splattered man leading a quinar with a limp form draped over
its broad back. The acrid tang of blood and sweat corrupted
the crisp night air.
“Laila!” The name burst from her lips. She rushed to her
sister’s side.
Beneath the pallid skin of Laila’s throat a faint pulse still
throbbed. Blood soaked the makeshift bandages binding her
chest.
Disturbed by the sentry’s cry, people emerged slowly from
the castle. They rubbed sleep from their eyes while they
struggled to walk and dress at the same time. A small crowd
formed around Kyne and Sianna.
“Help me get her to the infirmary.” Swallowing her sick
fear, she directed two young men to lift Laila from Hakan’s
back and carry her into the castle.
Over Laila’s body, Sianna’s eyes locked with Kyne’s angry
glare. He’d heard her involuntary cry. He now knew Laila’s
true identity, the depth of her lie. Did he understand what he
would lose if Laila died?
He leaned toward her, blood tricking from a cut on his cheek
and staining his torn clothing. “What other lies do you conceal?”
His whisper scraped her raw conscience. “Althea, please
see to Rul Cathor’s injuries.” She pulled herself away from his
silent accusations and followed Laila into the castle.
Kyne brushed Althea aside and berated himself for not
seeing the obvious sooner. Everything he’d learned about Sianna
had told him she could not have seduced and betrayed Aubin,
but he’d clung to that scenario, never guessing the truth.
DiSanti had two daughters. Laila and Sianna. Despite
Kyne’s best information, DiSanti had managed to conceal this
fact. He’d hidden Sianna’s existence from everyone.
Unwilling to brave his angry scowls, the small crowd
dispersed back to their beds. None seemed to have heard
Sianna’s startling revelation, which was just as well. Hatred for
DiSanti would put both women’s lives in jeopardy.
Did she carry Aubin’s child? Was that small living link to
his brother doomed to die because of his failure and Sianna’s
silence?
Brushing aside the few who attempted to see to him, he
turned Hakan over to the stable master and stalked into the
castle.
Inside, the castle was awake. The scent of baking bread
and frying meat floated through the great hall as Betha
supervised the morning meal. A few sleepy-eyed children played
quietly near the hearth while their mothers stirred the embers
to flame.
In the infirmary Althea and Sianna bent over Laila’s
motionless body. Katya stood to one side ready to fetch and
carry as directed. Several other people formed a ragged circle
around the women.
Helpless to do anything but watch, Kyne slipped into
Althea’s chamber.
“Welcome home, my lord. How went the battle?”
“DiSanti’s force was defeated, but he escaped. With any
luck Prince Timon’s men gained control of the palace in DiSanti’s
absence. Hamon and the rest have gone ahead to act as
reinforcement. I’ve sent messages to the other rebel leaders to
strike now while DiSanti is off balance. His commanders need
to be neutralized before they can regroup and seize power. The
ministers must be convinced of the power of the rebellion.”
Thoughts of the coming struggle sapped Kyne’s resolve.
He sank into the chair next to Graham’s bed and massaged the
bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. “Many will die
before this is over. Je’al was killed and Lisha was injured.”
“How badly?”
“It will be a miracle if she survives.”
“You believe Sianna will provide that miracle. Why else
would you risk climbing the trail in the dark?”
“Perhaps. I only know I couldn’t just stand and watch her
bleed to death. She is Laila DiSanti. He has two daughters.”
“It makes sense, but how did he keep Sianna a secret all
these years?” Graham’s dark brows pulled together. “After
Sianna had been here awhile, I couldn’t believe her capable of
plotting Aubin’s murder. I could barely accept she’d lain with
him. She wears innocence like a cloak.”
Heat flashed through Kyne. How sweetly she bestowed
that innocence on him even as he thought her guilty of Aubin’s
foul murder.
“Nor do I believe Laila plotted with DiSanti to kill Aubin,”
Graham continued.
“Neither do I. But I believe she and Aubin were lovers.
She commands the liking and respect of the people. Either she
truly hates her father, or she is an extremely clever spy, but
none of her actions or those of DiSanti bear this out. On the
battlefield she saved me from DiSanti. He struck her down
without a qualm.”
Kyne sank into a chair. Shoulders bowed, he buried his
face in his hands. “She carries Aubin’s babe.”
Graham touched Kyne’s shoulder. “Seek your bed. There’s
naught for you to do but pray. If any can save the woman and
Aubin’s child, Sianna can.”
***
Sianna straightened and groaned as her back protested the
motion. Her work was done. The immediate danger past, Laila’s
life now lay in the Eternal One’s hands.
Outside, long shadows signaled the coming night. A hush
hung over the great hall, broken only by the clink of crockery
and the murmur of voices. Over the sour stench of blood, the
aroma of Betha’s cooking tantalized Sianna’s nose. She hadn’t
eaten since the previous night, and then only lightly.
“You’ve done all you can. Go eat. Rest. I’ll sit with Lisha.”
Though tempted, Sianna looked at Katya and hesitated.
Blood covered Katya’s hands and clothing. Red streaked her
straggling blonde hair while exhaustion painted dark circles
beneath her eyes and etched lines around her mouth. “But,
you....”
“Go. Don’t worry about me. When Althea awakes I’ll
retire.” Katya waved her hand toward the old healer, asleep on
a nearby pallet. “And there are others who will gladly sit with
the woman who saved their Rul’s life.”
Sianna sighed and nodded. Would they be so eager if they
knew the truth? More than their father’s blade imperiled Laila’s
life. Sympathetic eyes followed her progress across the hall,
but guilt turned the love they tried to wrap around her into a
funeral shroud. Watching these people’s affection turn to hate
would be a bitter brew to swallow.
Heart and feet heavy, Sianna headed up the stairs toward
Kyne’s chamber. Warda hugged her side, his shaggy body warm
and comforting. Too soon the chamber door loomed before
her. Did he wait for her? Fear dissolved hunger. What answers
would he demand? Her hand drifted protectively to her belly.
What truths could she tell him?
The handle moved beneath her hand, and the door swung
inward. A cozy fire burned in the hearth, casting a flickering
glow over the dim, quiet room. Darkness sh
rouded the rest of
the chamber. Beside the hearth, a cloth-covered tray rested on
a table. The yeasty scent of fresh bread mingled with the smell
of spiced wine and roasted vegetables.
“Come in.” Low and gravelly, Kyne’s voice came from a
murky corner.
Sianna jumped, and the door swung shut with a bang behind
her. Warda growled and pressed close.
“Go lie down,” Kyne commanded the hound.
Warda turned his dark, liquid eyes to Sianna.
“Go,” she whispered.
Reluctantly, the hound lumbered to his spot by the hearth
and crouched in the shadows. His wary gaze moved from Kyne
to Sianna and back again.
“You’ve won them all to your side.” Kyne gave a humorless
laugh and stepped into the light. “Even Katya follows at your
heels. What will they say when they learn the truth?”
He had bathed and changed, but his battle with DiSanti had
left its mark. An angry red cut marred his cheek, and flecks of
blood soaked through the white bandage around his arm. Firelight
flickered over his chest, left bare by his open shirt, and cast a
sheen of red to the still damp hair falling over his shoulders.
Like an angry god he stood straddle-legged, fists clenched at
his sides, the cords of his neck taut, eyes cold and hard.
A shiver flowed down Sianna’s spine. She struggled to
reconcile this merciless stranger with the man who had so gently
introduced her to passion. Stiffening her resolve, she moved
toward him.
“Will you kill me now? Or may I eat first?”
Surprise and confusion drew Kyne’s brows together. “Kill
you?”
Sianna slid into the chair by the table and looked up at him.
“That has been the plan all along, has it not? Use me to draw
my father into your trap. Kill him, then me as punishment for
our crimes. Why do you hesitate? I don’t carry Aubin’s babe. I
am DiSanti’s daughter. Kill me, and part of your vengeance is
done.”
Why did she taunt him? Deep inside she knew he would
not raise his hand to her. But could he accept her — love her
— despite her parentage? The words continued to flow withoutaccord from her lips.
“Oh, I forget Laila. Yes, she is pregnant. But can you be
sure it is Aubin’s babe? No? Well, I suppose even you would
balk at the murder of an innocent. So Laila will live until the
child is born. You think you still need me to save her and the
babe she carries? Be assured I have done all I can. The rest is
in the Eternal One’s hands. You may kill me without risking the
babe.” Laila’s babe.
Kyne stormed forward. “What nonsense do you spout?”
His fingers bit into her upper arms as he yanked her up. “May
the Eternal One give me peace. I do not kill innocents.”
Face to face, her feet dangling above the floor, she looked
into his stormy eyes. “Reveal my true identity to your people,
and they will do the deed for you.”
“No!” She felt his horror before he released her and turned
away.
She staggered against the back of the chair. Warmth from
his denial spread through her and eased the chill of loss that
had settled around her heart. Though he had not spoken the
words, he was as aware of the strange bond between them as
was she. The knowledge did nothing to solve the dilemma they
faced, but a spark of hope flared in her breast. Should she tell
him of the newer, more fragile bond they also shared?
“Eat,” he commanded roughly. “There is a bath prepared
for you.” He pointed to a screen blocking a corner in front of
the hearth then stalked toward the door. “Then sleep. We will
speak of your future in the morning, when both our tempers are
calm.”
A thin wisp of fragrant steam wafted across the room from
the heated, waiting water. She sagged into the chair. Tears
burned the backs of her eyes. Though Kyne spoke of her
comfort and her future, his stony gaze and tone told her he had
hardened his heart to her. He might not kill her body, but without
him, her ka would surely perish.
Kyne did not return that night. The next day passed in a
blur of activity. Despite his words of the night before, he never
approached her throughout the day. At times she felt his gaze,
but when she looked up he would be gone.
Under Sianna’s healing touch Laila’s condition stabilized
and improved. Late that evening, Sianna retired to Kyne’s
chamber. He did not join her.
The next two days passed much the same. Tension coiled
like a living thing inside her.
On the evening of the third day a royal messenger arrived.
When Kyne broke the seal and opened the folded parchment,
Sianna felt a blast of emotion from him—anguish—then nothing.
She fled to his chamber.
As the sun crept over the edge of the mountains, Kyne
entered his chamber. Warda stirred briefly and gave a low growl
until he recognized Kyne’s scent, then he closed his eyes again.
Aside from the crackle of the fire and Warda’s whiffling snores,
the chamber lay still and silent. Sianna watched Kyne settle
himself near the hearth. He ran a hand through his hair then
rested his head against the back of the chair.
She slid from the bed and padded to his side. Other than
the weariness he wore over his broad shoulders like a rain
heavy cloak, he guarded his emotions well. Without conscious
thought she sought out the tight muscles of his neck. Strong
and sure, her fingers massaged the knots. In a sensuous cascade
the warm black silk of his hair fell over her hands and forearms.
His moan of pleasure-pain at her touch startled her. She started
to pull back, but he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and
held her hands to his neck. Fire sizzled up her arms and burst
like lightning in her belly.
“Touch me, sweet healer. Cure me of this mad obsession I
have for you.”
Sianna gasped both at his words and as he pulled her around
and into his lap. Through the fragile crystal silk of her nightdress
she felt the hard evidence of his desire and smelled it on the
musk that rose from his skin. She pressed her palms against
the warm, solid wall of his chest. His breath fanned her cheeks.
When his mouth sought and found the sensitive skin of her
throat, her head fell back, and her answer melted in the liquid
fire of his kisses. The past ceased to exist. Tomorrow was a
lifetime away. Only here and now held meaning. Eager hands
stripped away clothing.
Limbs entangled, they tumbled to the fur rug in front of the
hearth. Lips touched. Bodies fused.
Afraid any hesitation would recall the barriers between
them, they came together in a frenzied rush. Kyne plundered
Sianna’s soft mouth and body as if to imprint himself on her, not
caring if she cried out in passion or pain. She seized the moment,
aware that beneath his heated kisses and savage loving he hid
something from her,
a desperate need.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Don’t,” he growled against her lips. “You’re the daughter
of my enemy. I cannot love you back.” With a hair-roughened
knee, he spread her thighs and plunged into her.
She accepted his invasion with a small gasp. “You may lie
to yourself, but you cannot lie to me.” She met him thrust for
thrust.
Raw passion banished rational thought and drove her
mindless with physical need, until she screamed her release
and he spent himself within her.
Afterwards, they sprawled naked across the fur rug, the
night air cool against their sweat-dampened skin. Eyes closed,
Kyne’s chest heaved. His skin glistened in the firelight. Anxious
to share the heat radiating off his large body, she wiggled closer.
At her touch he rose and turned his back to her. She shivered
from more than the chill air.
“Get dressed and come down to the hall.” After dressing,
he strode out of the chamber.
Though he hadn’t hurt her physically, her ka felt bruised
and torn by the contempt in his voice. A blush of anger heated
her skin. His words proved he hated the very blood that ran in
her veins, yet she accepted his kisses and more without protest.
Like a faithful hound she waited on his convenience. She pulled
her torn nightdress over her nakedness. Pride, long subdued by
the Sisters’ training, and more recently by guilt, rose within her
and stiffened her spine.
Legs trembling she stood. Despite her father’s crimes, no
longer would she beg at Kyne’s feet for crumbs of affection.
Sixteen
Kyne leaned against the stone mantle while the hall came
slowly to life around him. When he scowled, a young boy sent
to tend the morning fire scurried away.
He straightened and crumbled the prince’s message in his
fist, tempted to toss the thing into the fire. Loyalty and common
sense prevented him. But could he obey the prince’s command?
When his parents were murdered on DiSanti’s order six
annum ago, he took on the burden of raising and protecting
Katya and Aubin, as well as the responsibility of leading the
rebellion. Others looked to him for strength and guidance. They
searched in vain. He had none to give.
How he missed his younger brother’s quick wit and
Hendricks, Elysa - Crystal Moon.txt Page 22