by Jasmine Walt
Face burning with humiliation, Lukan glanced at the two guardsmen standing outside the double doors leading to the hall. Their impassive faces showed no reaction. That didn’t mean they weren’t judging him—and finding him wanting. He could imagine them thinking their next emperor was a spineless dolt for tolerating his father’s abuse. As much as he feared his father, Lukan feared their contempt more.
He bowed low to Mott, ending with a mocking flourish of his arm. “Just another attempt at giving you a heart attack, sire. Wouldn’t that just make my day?”
The emperor’s jaw clenched. “Don’t try me, Lukan. The only thing stopping me from having you whipped is that girl.” A thumb jerked at the door. “Now get in there and conquer the Norin bitch. I need grandsons.” Red cloak swirling around his ankles, the emperor turned to the guardsmen. “Open the door.”
16
Axel positioned himself in a corner against the beaten bronze paneling that gave the Bronze Hall its name. From here, he had a perfect view of the room and everyone in it. Not that he had much to watch—Lukan and Tao were late again. That wasn’t going to improve the emperor’s mood, and that wasn’t good news, considering Lynx’s dress.
She paced back and forth across the brown-and-cream checked floor. The strain in her eyes, and the abrupt swaying of her lithe body in that short black dress reminded him of a caged animal.
A sudden urge to comfort her hit him.
Shocked, he quickly quelled it. As much as he liked Lynx, she was a tool in his hand, nothing more.
Kestrel sighed. “How much longer must we wait?” She perched on the edge of a blue satin settee facing the doors at the head of the room. Sweaty hand prints stained her bunched skirt.
Axel wasn’t going to reply, but Lynx’s head jerked to face him, demanding an answer. “Lukan isn’t known for his punctuality. Tao’s different. Like me, he spent his childhood and youth in the military, so he should know better, but—”
“And Lukan?” Lynx demanded. “How much time did he spend in the military?”
Axel clicked his tongue. “Not a single day.” That had been the cause of most of Lukan’s beatings from Mott—the one’s Axel and Tao had taken for him.
Lynx rolled her eyes, and he could almost see her wondering what she and Lukan would have in common. Axel could have told her: absolutely nothing.
The door handles clicked.
Lynx froze. Her eyes, laced with panic, flickered to Kestrel. The impression was gone in an instant.
Lynx, for your own sake, turn that fear into submissiveness.
The doors swung open to reveal Emperor Mott, with Lukan and Tao trailing behind him.
Axel shot Lynx what he hoped was a please-cooperate-with-me look and stepped in front of her to hide her dress from the emperor’s immediate scrutiny.
She didn’t shift out of his shadow.
Axel sighed with relief and bowed to his uncle. “His Magnificence, Emperor Mott, Supreme Ruler of All Chenaya and the Conquered Territories.” He gestured to Lukan. “His Imperial Highness, the crown prince, Lukan.” And he smiled at Tao. “And His Highness, Prince Tao.”
Kestrel leaped to her feet and sank into a low curtsy. Behind him, Lynx gulped. Then, she stepped out to face Mott. Axel held his breath.
After a moment’s hesitation, she bobbed a knee. Probably a major concession from a Chenayan-hating rebel, but it was not nearly good enough to satisfy his uncle.
Axel damned Bear under his breath.
As expected, the emperor’s complexion changed from bronzed olive to blotchy red. A single vein throbbed in his throat.
Axel rushed to finish the introductions before his uncle ruptured something. “Sire, may I present the Princesses Lynx and Kestrel of Norin?”
The only reply was a sharp intake of breath. It didn’t come from the emperor. Axel swiveled to identify the source of the interruption. It was Lukan.
Of course.
Bottom lip hanging, his cousin gaped at Lynx’s slim form, packaged in the leg-baring black dress. All he needed was to start drooling.
Despite Lynx being Lukan’s betrothed, Axel stiffened.
The emperor’s head snapped back to face Lynx, flinty eyes scrutinizing her with pitiless implacability.
Lynx returned his stare with a defiant blue beam of her own.
Axel grimaced, doubting anyone on the planet had ever withstood Mott’s glare, let alone tried to intimidate him. Hadn’t anyone in Norin bothered telling Lynx that challenging Emperor Mott was a dangerous pastime? Still, Axel held his breath as Mott directed his malevolent stare back to Lukan.
Axel doubted his cousin even noticed. Lukan was transfixed by Lynx, lost, drowning in an ocean of pheromones.
The emperor swung back to Lynx, fixing her with a predatory smile. “Princess Lynx, may your time in the Heartland be fruitful, and may all your children be sons.” Mad Mott pounded out the door, clearly expecting the rest of them to follow him.
Axel shook his head, unable to believe the emperor’s unexpected reaction to Lynx and her dress. But then, with someone as crazy as Mott, anything was possible.
When neither Lukan nor Tao moved to follow their father, Axel gestured to the door. “Come, Lynx, Kestrel. The dining hall is this way.”
Before Lynx and Kestrel moved, Tao grabbed Axel’s arm. “You are joining us for this dinner, aren’t you?” Tao sounded desperate.
Axel knew his limits. To be trapped for hours watching his cousin salivate over Lynx was more than he could cope with. “I’ve done my bit. Now it’s up to you.” He left the hall without a backward glance.
Lynx watched Axel leave with something akin to panic. His face and manner were familiar, a possible foil between her and Lukan. As stupid as it was, her stomach clenched at the thought that, by leaving, he was throwing her to the wolves.
She sucked in a steadying breath and fixed her eyes on Lukan. I’m here to marry this man. Get used to it.
Lukan offered her his arm. “My princess.” He cocked his head toward the door.
Lynx laid a tentative hand on his forearm. Her confidence soared; Lukan’s arm shook. She shot a sideways look at his face. Serene and handsome—regal, even—it showed none of the tension she could feel in his trembles.
So her betrothed knew how to put on a convincing show? It was an act far better than her own. Perhaps Lukan Avanov had things to teach her about surviving here.
Lukan must have noticed her scrutiny because he gave a half laugh as he steered her toward the door. “I trust you aren’t planning to knock my teeth out like you were during the summer.”
“That all depends on you.” Lynx smiled at him. “Treat me like an equal and not a plaything, and we should be—” Her voice trailed off. She was about to say fine, but that was a lie. She would never be “fine” with a Chenayan.
Lukan snorted as he led her down a wide passage, painted with an intricate hunting scene mural. “We’re getting married, Lynx. In two days, all this . . . unease between us will be a thing of the past. Or at least, that is what I’m hoping for.”
A shiver trilled down her spine, but she suppressed it, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She was honor-bound to marry this man. Something she could never forget, no matter how much his touch chilled her.
They passed a group of high-born. The men’s jaws dropped, and the women tittered. The women wore jeweled-colored, bustled gowns in the richest silks.
They made her black, cotton-and-lace dress look shabby. For the second time since leaving home, Lynx’s cheeks burned at her clothing—something so pathetic that, in the past, she’d never spared a second thought about.
The high-borns’ reaction obviously didn’t please Lukan, because he smacked his hand hard against his thigh.
The noise ripped the group from their gaping. Heads bent, they dropped hasty bows or curtsies.
Lynx shot Lukan a tentative smile, grateful he’d rescued her.
Once past the crowd, Lukan ruined his gallantry by saying, “I don’t appreciate other
men ogling what’s mine. In the future, please ensure you dress appropriately. I’m sure Mother Saskia provided you with a list of approved styles.”
Lynx bristled; he still hadn’t agreed that she was his equal and not his toy. She forced a calm she didn’t feel into her voice. “Marriage doesn’t buy me, Lukan.”
Lukan stiffened next to her. “I’m to be your husband. I think that’s enough.”
They reached a doorway into a dark space.
Lynx steeled herself against her racing pulse as Lukan swept her into a room dominated by a long, baronial table. Heavy tapestries draped the walls, absorbing the torchlight. Still, from what she could make out, the room was easily twice the size of the Norin council tent. That made it the second largest brick-and-mortar room she’d ever seen, after the assembly hall where she’d first sighted Lukan.
Nothing here reminded her of home.
Mott’s booming voice cut short her musings. “Lukan, Tao, show the princesses to their seats. I can’t be bothered with introductions.”
Lynx did a quick head count as Lukan guided her to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair at the head of the table opposite Mott.
Fifteen men—the current leaders of the high-born families the she-witch had spoken about, Lynx presumed—flanked both sides of the table. Candles on the table cast eerie, waving shadows across their faces, but from the combined weight of their watchful gazes, she guessed they were here to inspect her and Kestrel.
The susurrus that rippled through the room as she stepped closer suggested both shock and amazement at her dress.
It was becoming tedious.
Many an eye turned to the emperor; clearly, his high-born were as surprised as she was by his tacit acceptance of her rebellion. The emperor sat in his throne-like chair, surveying the gathering with a hard line to his jaw.
Another spurt of confidence shot through Lynx, and her steps lightened. What did it matter what these people thought of her and her clothes? She knew who she was and what she was doing here. She’d marry their arrogant crown prince, find the answer to their guardsmen’s powers—and then spend the rest of her life looking for a way to destroy them and their empire. The brazen idea sent a secret thrill of delight down her spine.
She forced herself back to reality.
The only other woman in the room sat to Mott’s right. Lynx knew Mott’s wife had died in childbirth, delivering Tao. Or that is what rumor said. He had never remarried, so she guessed the twenty-something beauty with hennaed hair and a sapphire next to her right eye was his mistress.
The rasping of wood on stone pulled Lynx’s attention back to Lukan. His hand rested on the back of her chair. He waited for her to sit before sliding into a chair next to her. So close to him, their elbows almost touched. She just managed to resist the urge to pull away. How was she supposed to get physical with him when she couldn’t bear his touch?
He leaned in, and she could feel his hot breath on her exposed cleavage. “You certainly know how to stir things up. Warn me, is this something you plan on continuing with once we’re married?”
Could he read her thoughts? Lynx’s chest tightened, and her breathing stuttered.
“Lynx, are you okay? You’re very pale.” Like a lifeline, Kestrel’s voice reached her from across the table.
After another deeper, more calming breath, she muttered, “It’s the heat. Winds know, there’s no ventilation here. But I’m fine now.” She forced a smile at Kestrel and Tao.
Although she had seen Tao before, she was struck by his beautiful blue eyes and silvery blond hair. He needed only beads and feathers in his hair and a change of clothing—no Norin would be seen dead in a brocade waistcoat—and he could pass for a raider. It was strangely comforting, if illusory.
“Heat?” Lukan asked, his voice low, probably to prevent the attentive high-born sitting around them from hearing him. “I suppose you would think that, after living in a tent.”
“You say that as if living in a tent would be beneath you.”
“I’m merely pointing out the differences.” Lukan leaned back in his chair and looked away. His rejection was obvious.
Not sure what to make of it, Lynx turned her attention to Kestrel. Her sister’s eyes glistened with . . .
Lynx leaned in closer for a better look. Kestrel’s eyes were overly bright, although no excitement blossomed on her face.
Then Lynx understood. Tao was blond.
Lynx’s heart melted for her. It seemed neither of them wanted their future husbands.
Tao whispered to Kestrel, “That’s Lady Nithena, my father’s mistress.” He pointed to the woman sitting next to Mott.
Kestrel looked away, probably not wanting Tao to see her tears.
Lynx came to her rescue, asking the only question she wanted answered. “The sapphire next to her eye? What does it signify?”
“That she’s high-born. Diamonds for the emperor and his sons.” Tao gestured to himself and Lukan. “Emeralds for high-born men, and sapphires for women. Oh, and Axel and his father are the only ones who wear rubies. But you probably know that.”
It wasn’t the answer Lynx hoped for, but she could hardly expect Tao to pour out all the Chenayan secrets over dinner. And he’d been more forthcoming than anyone else she’d questioned about the stones. She smiled at him as a waiter placed a steaming dish of something that looked ominously like snails before her. Swallowing her disgust, she reluctantly picked up a fork.
All conversation dwindled, partly because every attempt was met by a halt in the low chatter coming from the high-born. Only Mott’s voice continued, unabated, as he regaled the company with exploits of past hunts.
Eventually, Tao placed his dessert spoon on his plate and said, “My father’s about to call for chenna.” His eyes trailed across to Kestrel.
Her sister seemed not to hear. She was watching Lukan, who swirled patterns with the remaining berry sauce on his dessert plate. He looked distant, too.
Knowing how much Kestrel had wanted to marry Lukan, Lynx again stepped in to help her until she felt ready to face Tao. “What’s chenna?”
Tao raised an eyebrow and then leaned forward, whispering. “Chenna? Come on, everyone in the empire drinks it. It’s our one unifying vice.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but Norin don’t drink chenna.”
Tao glanced over at Kestrel, frowned, then whispered, “Maybe you know it as Dragon’s Blood. But I don’t suggest you call it that. Not here in the Heartland.”
Ah! Now she knew what he meant. Every evening after dinner, Axel and Stefan had drunk a few shots of a vile-looking, blood-red drink. It reeked like pure alcohol.
Seeing an opportunity to learn more about Chenaya from a potentially talkative source, Lynx decided to play dumb. “Definitely no chenna in Norin, Tao.” She smiled at him. “Dragons are exclusive to the Heartland.”
Tao surprised her by smiling back, making the diamond next to his eye sparkle. “No dragons? What a shame. You really did miss out.”
Lynx blinked, twice. From his tone, she almost thought he could have done with a few less dragons in his life, too. That was intriguing.
She leaned forward. “Tell me more.”
“I assume you’re talking about chenna?”
“Of course.” She could hardly say otherwise. She glanced at Lukan, but he was still studiously ignoring her.
“It has the tendency to fry the brains of the uninitiated.” Tao shot another concerned look at Kestrel, but his gentle flirting with Lynx seemed lost on her sister.
If Lynx weren’t so disgusted with her own partner, she might have been tempted to nudge Kestrel under the table. Instead, she said, “Well, that sounds just like your typical dragon.”
“You could say that,” Tao said. “Emperor Thurban first distilled it to give his troops courage while they ravaged our neighbors. I think he described it as ‘expanding the boundaries of our empire.’ Or that’s what my history professor said.”
Lynx sucked in a breath. Tao’
s grimace suggested that he didn’t approve.
Watching him closely, she said, “It seems, nowadays, bits of jasper, surgically inserted next to the eye, have replaced the chenna.”
Lukan lurched forward. “Don’t listen to my brother, Lynx. He’s about the worst example of a Chenayan you can get.”
“Really?” Lynx replied, annoyed that, after ignoring her all evening, he would interrupt this conversation. “Well, that’s maybe why Tao appeals to me. It seems neither of us like dragons”—she paused—“blood.”
“Give it a few weeks, and you’ll be drinking it,” Lukan replied with annoying confidence. “And then you’ll be a true Chenayan.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Lynx picked up her goblet. “I’ll stick to mead.”
Tao laughed, a spontaneous, joyous sound, alien in the turgid atmosphere. Lynx’s heart soared when Kestrel’s head shot up. Her sister studied Tao as if seeing him for the first time.
From the top of the table, Mott demanded, “Share the joke, Tao.”
Laughter silenced, Tao replied, “It would not improve with repetition, sire.”
“You have disrupted the evening with your raucous noise. Now explain.”
Lynx froze as Tao’s mouth opened and closed, and then he stuttered, “I apologize, sire, but I was merely pointing out the merits of chenna and mead.”
She let out a breath, impressed that Tao hadn’t implicated her in the discussion.
“What is there to discuss, you stupid boy? Chenna beats mead every time.”
Tao’s fair skin burned, but he kept his focus on his father steady.
His defiance was lost on the emperor, who waved a finger at his seneschal, standing at his shoulder. “Chenna.”
Lady Nithena stood, saying, “Come, princesses, let’s leave the men to their drinks.”
Lynx’s mouth sagged. No Norin man would expect women to leave just because he wanted a drink, and no Norin woman would ever obey such a ridiculous command. But she and her dress had caused enough trouble tonight.