by Jasmine Walt
Lukan brought his whip crashing down against the closest tree. His horse spooked, almost tumbling him from the saddle. That’s why he rarely resorted to violence. It invariably went wrong for him.
When he brought it under control, he shouted to Axel’s retreating form, “I may have to put up with you controlling every other aspect of my life, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you play with Lynx. She’s mine, and I intend on marrying her.”
Axel laughed at him.
Hatred burning in his chest, he set off after Axel toward the palace and Lynx. He had not gone more than a few paces when his cousin reeled his horse around.
“Now what?” Lukan demanded.
“I have a stag to kill.”
Before Lukan could reply, Axel kicked his horse into a fast trot, following the stag’s blood spoor. Lukan closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Axel had played him. Again. The challenge over Lynx had been nothing more than a ruse to lure him back to the palace so Axel could claim his trophy.
Or was it?
His cousin’s sense of honor was a curious thing. Leaving an animal dying in the forest was unacceptable to Axel, but stealing Lukan’s betrothed if it served him? The Axel he knew and loathed wouldn’t bat an eyelid about that.
Lukan hesitated, torn between his two prizes.
Moments later, he spurred his horse on toward the palace.
As doubtful as he was about his marriage to Lynx, he wouldn’t stand back and let Axel win. Not this time.
Making her want him as much as he wanted her was a greater trophy than another pair of antlers hanging on his wall.
23
Count Felix had arranged a masked ball to celebrate Lukan’s betrothal to Lynx.
As usual, Lukan was late.
This time, however, his tardiness was unintentional. Lukan needed to see Lynx tonight if he was to claim her as his prize. Unfortunately, the ride back to the palace took much longer than he’d anticipated.
Hair still damp from his shower, he raced down the passage toward the ballroom. He caught his reflection in a large gilded mirror and stopped short. His waistcoat and breeches looked disheveled. He pulled them straight, then noticed his knee-high boots lacked their usual high-gloss finish. He hopped on one foot, trying to polish the one boot against the other.
His valet had been loath to let him leave the apartment, but he’d overruled the man. Although Lukan was undecided about the curse, he’d crawl naked through barbed wire before he suffered the humiliation of Axel claiming Lynx. If Axel had ridden off to take care of the stag, it was likely he hadn’t yet returned, but Lukan wasn’t taking any chances.
He changed feet, giving his other boot a cursory polish, and then took a deep, calming breath before slipping a dragon mask over his head. After a last look in the mirror, he strode into the lobby adjacent to the ballroom.
It was time to turn all his charm on Lynx.
She was waiting for him; Tao and Kestrel, too. Hardly surprising, as the ball couldn’t start without him. Irritation sparked off them as they paced the floor. He would have to rectify that. His eyes slid over them, taking in Tao’s raptor mask and the dramatic fanned peacock tail covering Kestrel’s face, finally stopping at Lynx.
Her lithesome body had been given curves by her shimmering black corset and bustle. He relished the illusion, knowing she would be just as beautiful naked. Visions of her bare legs wrapped around him set his blood racing. He swallowed hard and focused on the rest of her. Black gloves wreathed her arms, and her hair was piled untidily onto her head. Blond tendrils curled down the side of her mask, making him want to reach up and pull her hairpins out, one by one.
And her mask? It was perfect. Black. Understated. A panther’s face, which magnified the brilliance of her blue eyes.
She’s like some feline goddess, he thought, half-bemused, half-amazed. A cocktail of emotions, some old, others new, surged through his body: passion, longing, hunger, even adoration that anyone could be so beautiful, so aloof. She’s a temptress, sent here to drive me insane with lust.
He shook his head, knowing logic and reason, the lodestars of his life, had no place among his feelings for Lynx. Here he stood, looking at the woman who might deliver a son who would slit his throat while he slept, and he didn’t care. That she was capable of training her son to lead an army against him was also not in question. Thorn was no idiot; he would not have trained her to take over his raiders if she couldn’t command men on a battlefield. None of that information was enough to stop the hardening in his groin.
Struggling to control his wayward breathing, Lukan stopped at her side. “A panther. Do you purr as well as claw?”
“Only time will tell.” Lynx turned to face him, and he wished to see her expression. But then, the mask wasn’t such a bad idea because she couldn’t see the hunger for her on his face, either.
He reached for her hand and led her toward the ballroom. “There’ll be a receiving line,” he explained, using the silky voice he reserved for female conquests. “Count Felix will have dragged in all our nearest and dearest, the people with whom you’ll mix on a daily basis.”
“So in Chenaya, you have a masked ball on the night you’re supposed to meet people?” Lynx shook her head. “That’s novel.”
He happened to agree. “That’s Felix for you. It’s all a power play, his way of proving he knows everyone, regardless of how they try to hide from him.”
Lynx made a grating sound in her throat. “He takes some getting used to, that uncle of yours. The words living dead spring to mind.”
Lukan laughed. “He has chronic sinusitis. Apparently, he was quite sickly as a child.” He glanced at her to check if she was still listening. She appeared to be, so he added, “It’s done nothing to improve his temper. But it’s your back you need worry about, so don’t get on the wrong side of him.”
“I’ll bear it in mind,” Lynx muttered, so low Lukan had to lean in to hear her.
He paused at the open set of doors. “You ready for this?”
“As I’ll ever be. At least the room looks inviting.”
The gilded room was brilliant with candlelight and flaming torches. A long line of flamboyantly attired guests, faces hidden behind exotic, absurd, or beautiful masks, waited on their pleasure. Minstrels gathered on a stand at one end of the room. At the other, a motley-clad collection of fire-eaters, jugglers, acrobats, and clowns, some leading dancing bears, stood ready to entertain. The heady scent of jasmine, musk, and neroli permeated the air from incense burners along the walls.
Lukan smiled, understanding how Lynx, who’d lived all her life in a tent, found it overwhelming. Anticipation, more than excitement, trilled through him. Her naivety was to his advantage. If he played his dice right, by the end of the night, Princess Lynx of Norin would be his to tumble. His smile broadened into a grin when Lynx tugged on his arm.
“I want to dance.”
He squeezed her hand. “All in good time. The night is still young.” But he stepped with her into the hall.
The buzz of conversation stilled as he led her to where Count Felix waited at the head of the line. His uncle creaked a small bow and then waved to the beautiful people. Understanding the imperious gesture, Lukan took Lynx’s arm and walked her past the bowing high-born while Felix called out names and titles Lukan knew she’d never remember or connect to their owners.
Lynx greeted Lev and his friends when Felix introduced them, raising Lukan’s eyebrows that she had started making contacts already. She stopped him at her uncle, Bear. The emissary wore the tiniest possible mask over his eyes.
Felix didn’t give her a chance to do more than exchange a brief hello before he hustled them on to the next in line.
It was a cue Lukan decided to follow. The less she had to do with her fellow Norin, the better. Maybe distance would help tame her.
Thankfully, Axel wasn’t in the line, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t returned to the palace. His cousin bowed to no one but the emperor.
>
Only after the last introduction did Felix signal to the minstrels. A hunchback with a pointy beard chanted a haunting dirge. Other dwarfs accompanied him with zithers, lutes, and pan flutes, so beloved by Chenayan musicians.
Before now, Lukan had never given much thought to their music. It was something that just happened when he wanted to dance. Still, it must have sounded enthralling to Lynx because she stood riveted and wide-eyed. He imagined her gaping behind her mask. Clearly, the music they listened to in Norin was very different than this. He ringed her upper arm above her glove with his hand. Her flesh was warm, the muscle firm under her skin. He liked it. A lot.
“It’s a ball, Lynx. Not a recital.”
Her eyes darted to him and then back to the minstrels. “I’ve never heard anything so . . . Well, nothing quite like it. How do you dance to a—?”
“Like this.”
Lukan slid one arm around her, trailing his fingers down her back. She tensed, then relaxed into his touch. Encouraged, he slithered his hand to her hip. With a possessive tug, he pulled her toward him until their bodies were almost, but not quite, touching. His right hand found hers, and he linked their fingers together.
Her body was still stiffer than he liked. She also seemed unsure of what to do with her other hand, letting it dangle at her side.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Hold my hip like I’m holding yours. And keep your feet away from my boots. I’ll do the rest.”
She hesitated, and then her fingers touched his trousers, slung low on his narrow hips.
A cloud of butterflies looped through his stomach. He caught her scent—the clean, crisp smell of soap and water, refreshing in its plainness after the heavily perfumed atmosphere. He longed to bury his face in her neck, to drink her in. But it was way too soon for that.
Time to dance.
Lukan caught the music on an up beat and swept her to the middle of the floor. Tao and Kestrel followed. He danced in silence until they had done a full circuit of the ballroom, then other couples joined them on the dance floor. No longer the center of attention, he leaned into her and tried some small talk.
“So what music do you listen to in Norin?”
“Lively music. Not . . . death stuff, like this. We like to celebrate when we dance.”
“Oh, so this doesn’t seem like a celebration to you?” Lukan sensed her hesitation, and he smiled, deciding to be magnanimous. “Don’t bother answering. How did you enjoy your first hunt?”
Lynx took a moment to reply. “I loved the ride. But I’m more of a plains girl. Forests don’t set my heart on fire.”
“That’s unfortunate. Most of our leisure time is spent in the forest. When we’re not dancing to sad music, of course.” He let his hand trail up her back, caressing her through her corset.
Lynx squirmed, and her breasts brushed against his chest, igniting his heart. He pulled away before she felt it galloping.
Fighting to keep his voice steady, he asked, “So you like riding?”
“Yes, but not sidesaddle.”
“I noticed.” The idea of Axel leering at her legs made him scowl. “You have a way of turning the established order on its head.” Instantly regretting that, he forced his face to relax; Lynx must not see anger in his eyes. He tried again with an attempt to get her talking about herself. Women liked that. “Tell me about your other passions.”
She laughed self-consciously. “You can’t be serious?”
“Put another way, what do you do with your time when you’re not riding horses?” As he said it, he remembered that she was a raider. Raiders existed to track and kill imperial guardsmen. That’s what gave them their wild, ferocious reputation.
It brought her role in the Dmitri Curse back into full focus.
Lukan mentally kicked himself for that reminder. As he cast about for a new topic of discussion, he saw Axel, unmistakable even in a mask, dancing next to them with his sister, Malika. No mask had yet been made to hide Malika’s explosion of raven-black hair. Her head rested on Axel’s shoulder, and he whispered something in her ear. Probably his plans for stealing Lynx. They both laughed . . . and Lynx stumbled.
Startled, Lukan looked down at her. She was staring at Axel, her eyes disbelieving.
Then, he understood.
Even after Felix’s name game, Lynx wouldn’t know Malika was Axel’s sister. With a sapphire next to her eye, Lynx must have thought Malika was just some high-born. Now she clearly assumed Malika to be Axel’s girlfriend. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
The stab of jealousy—and rage—that pierced Lukan was breathtaking.
He stiffened, and it took all his self-control to maintain his regal bearing. Even then, his voice was sharper than usual. “Come on, Lynx,” he demanded, “it wasn’t that long ago you were in Norin. You can’t have forgotten what you liked to do.”
Lynx tore her eyes away from Axel and his sister. “I—I love music, and I play a few instruments.”
Lukan twirled them to the opposite side of the ballroom, away from Axel. Ostensibly avoiding a steely-eyed knife-thrower entertaining a small crowd of onlookers, he pulled her even closer to his chest. But he didn’t trust himself to speak, so they danced in silence. Lynx cleared her throat a couple of times, but whatever was on her mind, she kept it to herself.
Finally calm enough to risk speaking, he said, “Your uncle delivered a musical instrument here for you. A stringed thing that looks like a lute gone wrong.”
Lynx sighed, and he wondered if it was relief due to the arrival of her instrument or the thaw in the conversation. “It’s called a fiddle, and it’s nothing like a lute. We’ve played them in Norin for centuries, long before Thurban invaded.”
Lukan’s flawless dancing faltered, and he missed a step. Why did she have to bring up Thurban? Was she familiar with the Dmitri Curse? There was no way of knowing, given that the very mention of the word Dmitri by a Chenayan subject resulted in death.
Lynx didn’t comment about his fumble, but her hand drifted away from his hip to her hair, her fingers twirling as if she were searching for a particular lock. Her hand jolted her mask. Lukan pulled it back in place, noticing her hand did not return to holding him.
He blamed Axel for that.
Lynx finally spoke. “Lukan, I’ve decided I hate masked balls. What do you think Count Felix would say if we ditched these silly things?”
With Lynx’s attraction for Axel messing with his mood, the last thing he wanted right now was to lose the protection of his mask. Keeping his voice light, he said, “As my soon-to-be crown princess, you’re supposed to set an example, not a new trend.”
“Pity. I seem to be particularly good at starting new trends.”
Even though he heard a smile in her voice, he changed the subject. “Is your fiddle playing any good?”
A harlequin leading a bear by a chain moved past them, drawing away Lynx’s attention. He nudged her, pulling her back to him. It irked that he had to. The evening wasn’t going well.
“I’ll leave you to judge that, Lukan. Someday I may play for you.”
“You can play tonight during the dinner break. I instructed my valet to place the fiddle in one of the reception rooms.”
Lynx’s mouth opened, then closed.
Taking advantage of her uncertainty—was she surprised at how personable he could be?—he asked, “What else did you do today?”
“I met Tao’s falcon, and he sent her to hunt. I can’t believe she came back. But she did.”
This line of conversation had potential, so he danced her over to a quieter section of the ballroom. “Why do you suppose she does?”
“Training, I suppose. That’s what Tao said. But, to be honest, I can’t see why she would come back to be a prisoner on some man’s arm.”
Lukan hesitated, then took a deep breath before saying, “Maybe it’s because she loves him.”
“Do wild creatures love like that?” she asked doubtfully.
He wondered if she
had guessed his double meaning yet. “I don’t know, Lynx. You’re the panther, you tell me. What does it take to bring in an unfettered girl who bows to no authority?”
Lynx jerked away from him. “I thought we were talking about Tao’s falcon.”
“The same principle applies, I think.”
Lynx was silent for a moment. “Love and respect. Tao loves and respects Bird enough to give her freedom.”
“But Tao still keeps her in a mews at night and only lets her fly when it suits him,” Lukan said triumphantly. “Is that your idea of love?”
His words made Lynx’s blue eyes chill. “Hardly. Four hundred years ago, Thurban found out that it’s impossible to own a Norin, no matter how many cages you wrap around them. We will always follow our own star. The best you can do is to hope you’ve pinned your heart to the same constellation.”
The blood rushed from Lukan’s face. “And—and what constellation are you following, Lynx?”
“A Norin will never bow to the Dragon.”
So much for Lynx being pliable. But then, he shouldn’t have expected anything less from a rabid Norin. The Dragon constellation had held the northern point in the sky since Thurban conquered her country; that’s why Chenaya’s first emperor had chosen the Dragon as his crest and his religion. It was a constant reminder to the Norin that they had lost and the Avanovs had won. To worship the Dragon was to acknowledge that victory.
Lynx’s son in the vision had vanquished that Dragon.
Lukan forced a casualness he didn’t feel into his voice. “Well, thanks for clearing that up. So, if my heart is pinned to your star, then we stand some chance in our marriage?”
Lynx laughed self-consciously. “Winds know, Lukan, I have every motive in the world for marrying you. If the marriage works, though, is a different matter. For that, there needs to be chemistry—not just lust. We probably both need to work on that.”
Lukan shook his head, unsure of what to make of her.
Her body drove him crazy with lust, but her . . . Norinness caused him a different kind of craziness: outrage at her lack of respect to the Dragon, the throne, and therefore him.