The Star Witch

by Linda Winstead Jones

  She studied the stone, sparkling blue against her pale hand even by faint candlelight. She had never longed for pretty things that were not meant for her, but she did find herself admiring the sight of that ring on her hand. It was...pretty.

  But that wasn’t the reason she’d accepted Liane’s gift. When she got out of the palace, the proceeds from the sale of this jewelry would finance her search for her sisters and maybe even the rebuilding of the cabin on Fyne Mountain.

  Isadora stripped down to nothing, donned her night shift, and then brushed her hair and braided it. Nighttime preparations done, she climbed into bed. Spring was coming, but the nights were still cold. She drew the warm coverlet to her chin.

  She was so tired, sleep should come quickly. It did not. Instead, she found herself replaying the conversation over dinner, imagining the way Lucan Hern had looked at her, and experiencing once again that dance deep in her belly. Liane said she needed to feel pleasure once again, that she needed a man. Isadora was insistent that she needed no one and nothing, but in the bed alone on a cold night she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Liane was right.

  Maybe the wizard who had cursed the Fyne witches had unknowingly done them all a favor. Love alone could be a curse. Loving Will had certainly changed and weakened Isadora. Even now, long after her husband’s death, her love for him made her vulnerable in a way nothing else ever could.

  She was so lost in thought her heart almost burst through her chest when the door to her chamber flew open. Mahri, again, was her first thought when her heart resumed beating. The girl refused to knock! Her second thought was that Liane must need her. It was too early for the babies to come. Even another two weeks would make all the difference in their health and chance for survival.

  But it wasn’t Mahri at all, she saw as the intruder moved toward the bed, and the candle that was carried by the soldier at his side lit one half of his face.

  Isadora clenched her fists tight beneath the covers. What was Emperor Sebestyen doing here?

  He carelessly drew the covers off her body, commanded her to sit, took the candle from his sentinel, and ordered the armed man from the room. Again, Isadora’s heart beat too fast and hard. As far as she knew, the emperor had been unfailingly faithful to his wife, in the past couple of months, at least. If he had changed his mind about his fidelity, there was an entire Level of willing women for him to choose from. Like Lucan Hern, he did not care for witches and witchcraft. Why was he here, looking up and down her body as if judging her in a purely male and sexual way?

  “You’re pretty enough, I guess,” he said when they were alone and the door had been closed behind the sentinel.

  Isadora stood so she’d be in a better position to fight if she had to. “Pretty enough for what, my lord?” She didn’t care who this man was, she wasn’t going to allow him to touch her.

  But he didn’t touch her. He stared insolently, but he did not touch.

  “My wife cares for you,” he said almost distantly, as if he didn’t know what it felt like to care for a friend. “I’m not sure why, but she does. However, the needs of a country outweigh the reluctance of one woman.”

  “What sort of reluctance?” Isadora asked in a soft voice.

  Emperor Sebestyen looked her in the eye, and she saw in him the violence and depravity and arrogance she had heard so much about. But she also saw something unexpected: love. He did love his wife.

  “Captain Hern wants you in his bed, and what Hern wants he will have.”

  She blinked fast and her knees weakened. “You can’t be serious.”

  “If you think I would come to your room in the middle of the night to play a joke on you, you’re mistaken,” he said coldly. “The outcome of the war is at stake. Please Hern, do as he asks, and he will join my imperial forces and the war will soon be over. Think of the lives you’ll save, simply by bringing the war to a speedy end.”

  Isadora tried to force her knees to be strong and steady, but they wanted to wobble. She hated that indication of weakness; there was no time for weakness in this place.

  “That’s a nice argument,” she said, “but somehow I don’t imagine bringing the Circle of Bacwyr into Columbyana will save lives.”

  The emperor smiled. “Perhaps not, but it might save your life.”

  “Are you threatening me, my lord?”

  “Not yet. If threats becomes necessary, I will gladly use them.”

  The emperor stared at her breasts, which were barely covered by the thin fabric of her worn nightgown. In defense, Isadora crossed her arms over her chest. “What if I refuse?”

  The emperor sighed. “If you say no to Hern’s attentions, then the Circle will join the rebels, and they will likely win this war. The rebel forces are growing; that is what I hear. Some of my soldiers have deserted to join them. Common men who should care nothing for who rules have joined them. Arik’s forces are stronger than they have ever been before, but they are not quite strong enough. An allegiance with the Circle of Bacwyr will elevate them to the strength they need to defeat me. They’ll storm the castle and kill me, and my wife, and my son.”

  “The rebels would not kill a child!”

  “He is to be heir to the throne, and therefore he is a threat to Arik’s supposed right to rule. They will most certainly kill him. And you, I imagine. All the sentinels you have come to know, Mahri, Gadhra. I imagine they might let the concubines live, since they will be of some use, but everyone else in the palace will surely die. Is the sanctity of your celibate body more precious than all those lives?”

  “It isn’t that—”

  “Would you allow my wife and child to be murdered in order to maintain your virtue?”

  “Offer him another woman,” she said hotly.

  “I offered him any woman in the palace. He wants you!”

  For a moment, Isadora stared into the emperor’s eyes, unable to believe what he was telling her.

  “Say yes,” he said softly, “and when this war is over I will give you anything you want. Freedom, treasures, luxuries beyond your imagination.”

  “I want my sisters and the cabin your soldiers burned to the ground.”

  “You shall have it all. I have the power to make it happen, Isadora. All you have to do is lie with one man, for the duration of his visit. Who knows? You might even enjoy yourself.” The emperor moved in closer and lowered his voice, even though there was no one about to hear his words. “You can save us all, Isadora Fyne. To be honest, I care little for my own life. I am trapped in this damned palace and will always be trapped here. But I will not give up my rightful place without a fight and I will not allow the rebels to harm my wife and child. Liane deserves more happiness than I have had a chance to give her, and my son deserves to have a long life. I want to see Liane happy, and I want to watch my son grow to a man. Nothing else matters.”

  Did he really care for his family so much? In truth, the emperor did not seem to be a man who cared about anything or anyone but himself.

  Love weakened even him.

  “I can’t do as you ask,” Isadora whispered.

  He laid one strong hand on her shoulder, and a thumb stroked against her throat. “I have tried to be gently persuasive. I have tried to do this nicely. Damn it all, I am sick of those who defy me at every turn. I am emperor, and no one, least of all a witch who lives by my grace, answers my requests with no. Here’s your position, Isadora Fyne. You’re to offer yourself body and soul to Lucan Hern. Give him whatever he wants of you, and no matter how depraved and immoral his desires might be, you’re to make him believe you enjoy them. Fake your delight in his touch, even if he does not please you well. Make him need you in the way that a man can come to need the woman who takes his fancy.” The stroke of that thumb became so hard it was painful, and when Isadora tried to back away, Sebestyen pulled her back and grasped her throat.

  “I want to know every word Hern utters about the Circle of Bacwyr and their plans. How many warriors are they, have they regained the
ir full strength, how many are leaning toward joining Arik. If he’s planning to betray me, I need to know it before he leaves the palace.”

  “You want me to sleep with Hern and spy on him,” Isadora said, her voice raspy.

  “Yes,” Sebestyen said almost happily. “And if you don’t, I’ll personally kill you. Liane likes you, and she’ll be sorely disappointed, but a man can only abide so much, even for his wife’s sake.” He leaned so close she could feel his breath on her neck. “Don’t play the shy innocent with me, witch. I know you killed Father Nelyk.”

  Isadora’s heart skipped a beat. “I did no such—”

  “I don’t know how you did it, but I know. I won’t punish you for that murder, though I certainly could do so. In a way, I understand. You’re not a midwife, you’re a warrior, just as Liane was once a warrior. You are not a passive woman satisfied to sit back and take what comes to you. There is a soldier within you, Isadora Fyne. Hern is the enemy, and if the first weapon you use against him is your body, then use it well.” He dropped his hand and backed away. “He expects you in his bed within three days. I will give you two.” He held up two long, slender fingers. “Don’t disappoint me, Isadora. Those who disappoint me have a habit of disappearing.”

  The door closed behind him, and Isadora dropped onto the bed, her knees going weak once again. She pulled her knees to her chest and huddled as she hid beneath the covers. Two days. Two days! Damn Lucan Hern. He had come into the palace and with one request ruined all her plans.

  “Willym.” She whispered her husband’s name. “Tell me what to do. Help me.” Of course, Will didn’t answer. He had not answered her call for a very long time. He was well and truly gone, and she was on her own. If she had never needed him, she wouldn’t feel betrayed and hurt now. He was not here to help her. No one was here to help.

  Would the rebels truly kill Liane and her babies if they stormed the palace? Would they murder the sweet, innocent, and annoying Mahri? Kane would not commit such atrocities, at least she didn’t believe he would, but there were other rebels, and not all of them would be so noble as the man who was surely Sophie’s husband by now.

  It was Isadora’s calling to protect the innocent around her, but she couldn’t believe the only way to do that was by becoming Lucan Hern’s strumpet.

  She’d suspected that Liane was right and the visitor from Tryfyn had a sexual interest in her, but she’d never imagined that he’d be bold enough to order her to his bed, particularly when he believed her to be a royal relation. Liane’s suppositions about Isadora’s own desires were wrong. Well, not entirely wrong, but rather incomplete. There was an animal magnetism about the man that elicited a physical response that many women might mistake for desire or even for love. Isadora was not so frivolous.

  Maybe Lucan Hern did awaken something inside her, but Isadora preferred for that part of herself to remain asleep, as it had since Willym had died. She was stronger than the baser longings of her body, and if she did one day decide to take a man into her bed again, it would be after she had left this palace and regained some semblance of control over her own life.

  She had two days to find a way around the emperor’s edict.

  Chapter Three

  Lack of sleep made Isadora cranky, as she administered the empress’ medicines and examined the pregnant woman. Twins always came early. Often nothing could be done to save them if they came into the world too soon, but if Liane could keep those babies inside her for another two weeks, perhaps a month, then all would be well.

  All would be well until Liane’s husband discovered that she was carrying twins, not one large and difficult child, and that she and Isadora had known all along that there were two sons, not one. The line of ascension could not be muddied.

  “What’s wrong?” Liane asked as Isadora helped her to sit up, her back resting against a mountain of pillows.

  “I did not sleep well,” Isadora said sharply.

  Liane just smiled. “You were dreaming of Lucan Hern, I imagine. I told you, Isadora, you want—”

  “I was not dreaming of Captain Hern,” Isadora insisted. “Your husband paid me a visit last night.”

  Liane’s smile disappeared, and her pretty face paled. “He didn’t,” she whispered.

  “You misunderstand,” Isadora said sharply. “Your husband expects me to...to give myself to Hern, as if I were one of the Level Three concubines to be given away on request.”

  “Oh.” Color returned swiftly to Liane’s face. “Is that all?”

  “Is that all?” Isadora leaned in close. “No,” she whispered, “that’s not all. The emperor said he knows I killed Father Nelyk.”

  Since Liane was not at all surprised to hear the news, Isadora realized how the emperor had come by his information.

  “At first I thought he’d be upset if he knew you and I had a hand in Nelyk’s death,” the empress said, “but it became clear to me that he was not at all disturbed so I told him—”

  “I didn’t kill Father Nelyk.”

  Liane’s eyes widened in obvious anger and horror. “What do you mean? Nelyk attacked Ryona, and there were others, too. He threw a pregnant girl into Level Thirteen and left her there to deliver her child, his child, in filth. He was—is, apparently—a lecherous, depraved, power-hungry—”

  “Calm down before you hurt the babies and yourself,” Isadora ordered. “Nelyk won’t be harming anyone else, I promise you. He might be dead, but I didn’t kill him.” Liane lay against her pillows and pouted. She was becoming quite the expert at sulking. “What did you do?”

  Isadora remembered the night too well. She’d been forced to choose in an instant. Death or life? Dark or light? She still wasn’t certain she’d made the right choice. “I cast a spell that made him decide. I asked him, ‘Where does a man like you belong? What would the God you claim to serve consider proper punishment for the crimes you have committed?’ Nelyk rose from his bed and donned a crimson gown, and together we walked down the stairs to Level Twelve. At his order the guards on duty opened the hatch in the floor, and he jumped down.” By that time, of course, the priest had been bordering on insane. “I cast a spell to make the prison guards forget what they had seen, and I walked away.”

  Liane seemed appeased. “A quick death would have been kinder. It might’ve taken Nelyk weeks to die down there.”

  “He chose,” Isadora said in a lowered voice.

  “In any case,” Liane said as she dismissed Father Nelyk with a wave of her hand, “I told Sebestyen that if we ever needed an assassin no one would suspect, you’d be perfect. If he asked you to sleep with Hern, then he must have that possibility in the back of his mind. Too bad. It would be a waste of a perfectly good man.”

  “Hern asked for me,” Isadora said. “In fact he demanded me.”

  “That’s very romantic,” Liane cooed.

  “It is not!”

  “Fine. It’s not romantic at all. It’s erotic. It’s thrilling. It’s flattering, Isadora. Do you not see that? A man like Lucan Hern can have any woman he desires. He can have his pick of the women on Level Three, and even those who are not concubines would surely be happy to oblige him in all ways.”

  “He needs to choose anew,” Isadora said sharply. “I don’t want him or any other man.”

  Liane reached out and took Isadora’s hand. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t feel the deep, telling tremble.

  “I have said all along that you need a lover to help you get over your husband’s death. Will is gone, but you live. You live, Isadora. You don’t love Hern the way you loved your husband. I understand that, truly I do. But sex isn’t always about love. Let Hern adore you for a while. Let him pleasure you and find pleasure in you. If you must close your eyes and pretend—”

  “Not that,” Isadora said quickly. “I can’t...I can’t pretend.”

  “Then look Lucan squarely in the eye while he makes love to you. Understand fully that life goes on, and that there’s much enjoyment to be had.”

&
nbsp; Liane actually believed her convoluted reasoning. Maybe she’d had to believe, in order to survive so long in this place.

  “Your husband says he will kill me if I don’t lie with Lucan Hern.”

  “He probably will,” Liane replied without emotion. “I would stop him if I could, but my influence only goes so far.” The empress leaned slightly forward and whispered, “I still need you, Isadora. My babies need you. Don’t choose death over meaningless sex just to spite Sebestyen and Hern. Turn this situation to your advantage. They think you are weak, but you’re not. They think they are in control, but we have a strength they will never understand. They believe they can scare you with their threats and demands, but you are stronger than they will ever know. Take control of the predicament and make it your own. That’s what I’d do in your position.”

  “How?” Isadora whispered. “How do I take control when none of the choices made are my own?”

  “Do not be afraid,” Liane said with the confidence of a woman who had learned to deny her own fears. “When the time comes, walk into Hern’s bedchamber with your head held high. Look him in the eye, smile, order him to do as you please. Don’t ever let him see that you’re afraid or uncertain.”

  “That’s not who I am.”

  “Perhaps not,” Liane said lightly. “Perhaps the witch Isadora Fyne is too noble and virtuous to behave in such a way.” The smile that crossed her face was positively wicked. “My cousin Isadora, on the other hand, is an entirely different type of woman.”

  Emperor Sebestyen provided sentinels to spar with Lucan in the courtyard, as he had requested. He beat them all, in swordplay and in spear work, wounding a few in an insignificant fashion but being very careful to kill no one. He did not call on his gifts as he sparred with one inadequate partner after another; he did not prepare mentally as he would if he were going into battle. Such an advantage was unnecessary.