“No,” she answered in a soft voice. “I just want it to stop. The battles and the waiting and the intrigue. I want it to go away.” She wanted her life to be simple again.
“War isn’t over until someone wins.”
“That’s...stupid.”
“Stupid?”
Isadora sputtered. “Yes, stupid.”
Lucan did not seem insulted, which was a good thing. After all, war was his livelihood; killing was his gift.
“I have given my word,” he said again. “Emperor Sebestyen kept his part of the bargain in sending you to me, so I must do the same.”
She pinned his arms to the mattress—not that he couldn’t escape her hold if he wished to do so. “Do you really think that I would be here if I had not decided for myself to be your lover?”
He sighed. “No.”
“Then Sebestyen has given you nothing. The only bargain that exists is between you and I.”
In a move so strong and quick and easy that it took her breath away, Lucan freed himself from her flimsy hold and reversed their positions so that he hovered over her. His weight pressed her into the mattress; his body heat warmed her. She was helpless, unable to move in anything more than a subtle way.
And yet she liked being here. Lucan had always given her power in this association. He had never used his physical strength against her.
She had never used magic against him, and she could do just that, now that her powers had returned. A softly spoken spell, an influence he would not be able to deny, and he would do as she asked. But Lucan did not know she was a witch, and if she had her way, he never would. She would not risk exposing her magic in that way, or any other. For once in her life, she wished not to be a witch. She was just a woman, and for now Lucan Hern was her man. Any influence she had over him had to be genuine. Real. There could be no magic in it.
“Emperor Sebestyen is a bad man, Lucan,” she whispered. “You don’t want to ally yourself with him.”
“It is your contention that the bargain I struck concerns only the two of us?”
“Is anyone else in this bed?” she snapped.
He smiled down at her. “No.” He kissed her throat, and then her chest, and then the valley between her breasts and the soft swell to one side. “Fine. I accept that argument. I will bargain only with you. What do you ask for in exchange for coming to Tryfyn with me?”
“What?” She tried to sit up as she responded to his question, but Lucan’s hold was much more steadfast than hers had been, and she found herself pinned to the mattress while he continued to kiss her.
“You heard me, Isadora. Come home with me. Stay. And in return...” He continued to kiss and caress her body until she closed her eyes and wallowed in the sensations his mouth aroused.
It was a ridiculous notion, so why was she actually considering saying yes? Juliet and Sophie still needed her, she was almost certain of that fact. When the curse took Kane’s life, Sophie would need her sisters’ love and support, and heaven only knew where Juliet might be.
And then there was the matter of Lucan’s distaste for witches. If he knew what she was, he would not touch her this way. He would not talk of taking her home with him, or tell her she was beautiful, or teach her how to fight, or laugh with her, or listen...all of that would go away if he knew. She could hide that part of herself from him now, but if they stayed together, eventually he would learn the truth.
“I cannot be a part of so much death,” she said. “It drains me in a way I can’t explain.”
Lucan kissed her flat stomach. “That is why you ask me, in our instructions with the sword, to show you how to stop a man without killing him?”
“Yes.”
He was relentless in caressing and kissing her. “Even though death is a part of who I am, and that death repulses you, might you still consider coming home with me? You would never need to see battle. I would protect you from that, always. You would be a part of my home, not my call to war.”
Yes, yes, yes... “Maybe. After the empress delivers her...her child.” In the heat of the moment, she had almost said children. She could not share that secret, not even with Lucan.
“What do you need from me to make this alliance happen?”
She felt like she was flying, like her body was not her own. A moment more, one more well-placed kiss of those lips, and she’d agree to anything he asked of her. “Walk away from this palace,” she said while she could still think. “Keep your warriors in Tryfyn and away from this conflict.”
“And if I do as you request, you will come with me?”
“Yes,” she answered quickly. “Yes.” And then she stopped thinking, gratefully and completely.
Lucan watched Isadora dress in the light of dawn that broke through his window.
He was about to risk everything for a woman who shared his bed, and he had no second thoughts about the matter. There were many other women in the world, but none as fine as this one. And he wanted her.
His instincts told him Isadora was right about Emperor Sebestyen being a bad man. The way she continued to be under guard when they went to the courtyard for lessons in swordplay told him she was a prisoner here, not a guest. He would not allow her to be any man’s prisoner.
The Star of Bacwyr sparkled on her finger. “You must choose a more suitable gown for travel, when the time comes for us to leave.” The time would come soon, of that he had no doubt. “Something sturdy and warm, unlike this lovely gown.” She was trying to dress, but he hampered her efforts. She did not seem to mind.
“I hope you realize that I would not allow any man but you to see me in this frock.”
The statement warmed him more than it should. He possessed a part of Isadora no man ever had or ever would. “We will travel light and quickly. You may wear the ring you favor, but you must leave everything else behind.”
She glanced down at the ring. “Sometimes I think you like this little piece of jewelry more than you like me.”
He should...but did not. “It is small and insignificant.”
“I am growing rather fond of this silly little ring.” Isadora waggled her hand at him, and the Star flashed. “It feels quite at home on my finger.”
She had promised to give it to him, days ago. Now, it didn’t matter. He would return the Star to the Circle; it would simply be delivered there on Isadora’s finger.
“We must plan our escape soon. You and I, Franco and Esmun, we will leave here together.”
“And Elya,” Isadora said as she pulled the lavender sleeves up and wiggled her hips until the gown was in place. “We can’t possibly leave her here. The emperor will take his anger out on her and the baby she carries—your niece or nephew, in case you have forgotten that fact. Trust me, Sebestyen will have no qualms about taking his anger out on an innocent.”
Lucan sighed. “And Elya.” A cumbersome pregnant woman would slow them down, but he knew Isadora was right. They could not leave her behind. “Must we wait for the empress to deliver?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mostly dressed, her hair unbound and falling over her shoulders and down her back, Isadora walked to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Because I gave my word that I would stay until it was done.”
Lucan was accustomed to having his way. No woman had ever disobeyed or argued with him before. He found it annoying. “So I am to break my word to have you, but you will not do the same for me.”
“No more than a few days, Lucan. I promise. Soon. The empress’ pregnancy is complicated. She needs me.”
He draped his arms around her, and she just stood there. He wanted her, he even needed her, but he had not been totally honest with her.
“I told you I would never lie,” he said.
“Yes, I remember.”
“That means there will sometimes be unpleasantness between us, when I am forced to tell you a truth you do not want to hear.”
“As you are about to do now?” she asked, not sounding at all concerned ab
out what might come next.
“Yes, as I am about to do now.” He tipped her face up and looked her squarely in the eye. “I want you more than I have ever wanted anything for myself. But I cannot marry you, Isadora. When the time comes, wizards of importance in the Circle will choose my bride. You will be mine, and no one will be allowed to disrespect you, but we cannot be wed.”
Isadora did not flinch, and there was no reaction in her dark eyes. No tears of anger or disappointment sparkled there. “I never said that I cared to marry you, Lucan.”
He had been afraid he might hurt her with the truth, and yet he was the one who felt a pang of something that might be called regret. She did not want him?
A knock on his door had him reaching for his sword, but Isadora patted his arm and walked away. “No need for weapons,” she said. “I recognize that knock.”
He did not put the sword away until Isadora opened the door and he saw a mousy woman in a brown maid’s uniform standing in the hallway, her face pale and her hands clasped tightly.
“What is it, Mahri?” Isadora asked.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” the maid said in a loud whisper. “The empress sent me to fetch you. It’s time. It’s time!”
Chapter Ten
“No, this way,” Mahri said, as Isadora hurried toward the lift that would carry her to Level One and the empress. Mahri pushed her way into the stairway that wound tightly the entire height of the palace, and there she ran not up but down.
Isadora followed. “Where is she?”
“The empress awaits you in her old quarters on Level Five, where she lived in the weeks after she and the emperor married.”
Of course. At this hour of the morning the emperor was still abed. Liane had likely decided it was safer to move to another room than to take the chance that she’d be able to kick her husband out of his own room, when the time came.
Isadora had spent many nights in the Level Five quarters herself, before Liane had insisted that she move to Level One so she’d be near at all times.
Two of the empress’ sentinels were posted at the entrance to the apartment. One of them was Ferghus, who knew very well that the empress would soon give birth to twin sons. Isadora caught his eye as she entered the room; he already looked guilty.
As the door closed behind her, Mahri ran into the narrow hallway that led to the bedchamber. Liane’s shout echoed off the walls.
“What took you so long?”
“I was only gone a few moments, my lady.”
“No, you were gone much too long.” The empress’ sharp eyes fell on Isadora. “While you were off fucking your pretty warrior as if you had no concern in the world but his cock, these damned pains began. I tried to wait until Sebestyen left the bedchamber for the day, but by dawn I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Isadora did not take offense at the empress’ bitter words. Childbirth pains had made even Sophie curse.
“You should not have made your way here on your own,” Isadora admonished.
“I did not come alone. Mahri and Ferghus escorted me.” The empress flicked her eyes to the trembling maid. “Go fetch Isadora a proper work dress. I don’t want childbirth fluids staining one of my favorite frocks.” After Mahri had rushed from the room, Liane looked squarely at Isadora. “Ferghus and Tatsl will guard the main door, but there’s a secret passageway in this room. Sebestyen knows his way in. You must find the entrance and block it.” Liane pointed to one comer of the room, not far from the window that looked out on new morning light. “It’s over there, somewhere.”
“Why did you come here if you knew there was a secret passageway?”
“It was the only place I could think of. The passageways are everywhere, and Sebestyen knows them all. At least here I know the general location of the door.”
Many of the hidden doorways were so well concealed, finding them was next to impossible. Isadora searched the grout between stones for spaces that should not be there, but she found none.
Her efforts were on Liane’s behalf, for Liane’s protection, so she did not feel that it was inappropriate to call upon her magic. She held out her right hand and whispered, “Tymet.”
The ring she wore began to glow, and Isadora was so startled she almost snapped her hand back to her side. But instead of reacting in that way she allowed the glow from the ring to feed her own powers. It did just that, until her hand was drawn sharply downward and the outline of the doorway was revealed in shades of blue.
“No wonder you could not find it,” she said. “It’s not a proper doorway at all but a very low opening. Anyone who used this would be forced to crawl to make use of it.”
“Are you sure?” Liane sounded truly surprised. “Sebestyen never crawls, not for anyone or anything.”
She could find something handy to wedge in the narrow crevice the spell revealed, as she did in Lucan’s room each night, but as her powers were returning, that was not necessary. With Lucan she was forced to hide her magic, but with Liane that wasn’t the case. Kneeling on the floor. Isadora ran her fingers along the revealed crevice and whispered powerful words her mother had taught her. She ended the incantation with the word “Sintar,” and the secret entrance to this room was securely sealed.
Isadora returned to Liane, who lay upon the bed, pale and sweating and terrified. The empress was not one to admit to her own terror, but Isadora saw the fear very clearly.
“You look very fetching in my castoff gown, even though you don’t have the proper curves to fill it out.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“I didn’t think you cared to wear any of my more seductive gowns. Lucan Hern seems to have brought to life a new aspect of your nature.”
“Yes, I suppose he has.” She had not come here to talk about Lucan or aspects of her own nature, but it was likely that during the day she and Liane would have more time to talk than usual. Talk of such unimportant matters might make the hours pass more quickly for the mother-to-be. “I wanted him to think I was pretty.” The fact that she cared about such an inconsequential thing was a cause of wonder to her.
Liane smiled weakly. “Captain Hern has always thought you pretty, Isadora, from the first time he laid eyes on you.”
“A man who wants a woman in his bed will often see that which he wishes to see. There is no explaining how their minds work.”
“I doubt you have ever cared much for Lucan Hern’s mind,” Liane teased. “And you are very attractive, in an unusual fashion. Have you not seen the way some of the sentinels look at you?”
Surely the empress was suffering from delusions. Talk of her own beauty—or lack of beauty—made Isadora uncomfortable, so she set to straightening the covers over Liane’s body. “How long since your last pain?”
“While Mahri was gone to fetch you,” Liane said. “It hurt,” she added, as if she were surprised. “To the very depths of my bones, it hurt. How long before the babies come?”
“A few hours,” Isadora replied. Since there had not been another pain since she’d arrived, delivery was certainly not as near as the empress believed it to be.
“A few hours?” Liane shouted, sitting up awkwardly. “This can’t possibly go on for hours. You can make it better, you can make them come faster.”
“It is best that the babies come in their own time.”
Liane accepted this statement, somewhat, and leaned back. “How can we expect to keep Sebestyen out of the room for that length of time? I will probably have to see him at least once, but he cannot be in this room when the babies are born.”
There had been a time when Isadora would not have believed that any man might be a danger to his own child, but that had been before she’d met Emperor Sebestyen.
Minutes later, Liane suffered a long and painful contraction. She grasped the sheet and tensed, and made a long, moaning sound. When Isadora took the empress’ hand, Liane squeezed so hard bones crackled, and the moan turned into a litany of curses befitting the most battle-hardened sent
inel.
When the contraction was over; Liane closed her eyes and relaxed. “Hours,” she said weakly.
“The time will pass quickly,” Isadora said optimistically.
Liane gave her a glare which revealed very clearly what she thought about that weak promise.
Isadora continued to hold the empress’ hand. “You know, it was in this very bed that I saw Willym for the last time.”
“If you weep, I will kill you. I cannot bear to listen to you whine about your dead husband while I am in pain.”
Isadora smiled. If she did not know Liane, she would take offense. The empress could be harsh at times, and she did not play games of decorum. Perhaps she should be allowed her social failings, given the course of her life. Captured as a girl, made a sexual slave to the emperor and his men, called upon to kill. In spite of all that, Liane had not only survived, she’d flourished. She’d found love with the most unlikely of men, and she cared deeply for those few she deemed worthy: her husband, Mahri, Ferghus, Isadora. And most of all, the children she carried inside her.
“Thoughts of Will no longer make me weep,” Isadora said. “I loved him, and he loved me, but our time together is past.”
“You love Captain Hern now, is that it?”
“No, I don’t love him.” She couldn’t, no matter how tempted she might be. “But he has made me see that life goes on for the living. A woman should only mourn for so long.”
“I told you that a thousand times.”
“Yes, I know.” Isadora smiled. “But Lucan communicates in a different and much more persuasive way.”
“I imagine he does.” Liane relaxed against her pillows. “Be careful, or you’ll find yourself in my position, pregnant and cursing the man for touching you, ruining a perfectly good body, and bringing you incredible pain.”
“I don’t have to worry about that for a while,” Isadora said lightly. “According to the Circle wizards, Lucan’s first son will be born in two years. There hasn’t been a boy child born in the Fyne family for so long no one remembers when it might’ve happened.”
Again she thought, but what of his first daughter? Perhaps the son the wizards saw were the result of his politically planned marriage. Maybe she would give him daughters...and then again, maybe she could not. Or simply would not.
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