While the next knight prepared his weapons and Preece leaned on his sword to catch his breath, Moreya ripped the coif from her head and strode onto the battlefield.
"Warmonger, I challenge thee!"
The feminine shout effectively silenced the crowd. Then a low murmur rippled around them as Moreya marched closer, purposely tossing her head to free her long tresses. The light mountain breeze caught several gentian wisps and sent them swirling around her face. She glanced up and scanned the horizon, already detecting a dark speck approaching from beyond a crag in the arête.
"You have publicly repudiated our lawful marriage, openly denied that I am your Waniand lifemate. By the code of your own kind, the lifemate bond cannot be severed by verbal renunciation. It cannot be legally nullified by court decree or invalidated by holy clerics. I am forsaken, yet still not truly free. Unless one of us is slain. I demand that honor be served, and I be given the right of trial by combat."
"You are a madwoman!" he snarled. "I knew you would not leave me in peace, Yune witch! Someone drag her out of here."
"Nay, 'tis my lawful right to demand combat and royal resolution of my claim. You know this, High Chancellor." She glanced over at the king, who glared back at her with icy eyes as hard as those of her furious husband. Taroch rose to his feet and slowly nodded.
"The choice of weapons is also mine by right," she called out. A dark shadow blotted out the sunlight directly above her. Moreya did not flinch, did not turn, did not in any way show the slightest surprise when a young firedrake landed a few yards behind her and began to hiss. "My dragon against whatever weapon you think can save your miserable hide, Warmonger!"
The dragon growled and whipped its tail, which almost knocked Moreya off her feet as it passed within inches of her body. She knew she would be safer if she actually backed closer to the animal. She glanced over her shoulder at the beast, then turned back to her opponent husband.
But he was not where he'd been standing before.
He'd also moved closer to the firedrake, circling around to place himself where he could draw the beast away from Moreya. The dragon spat a glob of acid spittle at Preece and snapped its jaws in warning.
Other knights took up swords and lances. They slowly edged closer, began forming a circle around the beast. Preece's focus never left Moreya or the firedrake, but his voice rang out with harsh authority. "Nay, do not interfere! The dragon will not harm her, but will attack you, do you approach any nearer. Retreat."
Preece laid down his broadsword. The dragon hissed once more.
Preece stared at Moreya for a long moment, then spoke low so only she might hear his words. "I...I remember." His entire body shook.
"We tried to sail to Ataraxia," he rushed on, "But Sieffre betrayed us. We were arrested on the vessel. You used Bourke and the firedrakes to save me and Lockram, but you could not break free."
"You freely admit then that I've spoken only the truth? You do know me?"
"The dragon brought back all of it. I know you are Moreya Fa Yune, my wife. 'Tis true you are my chosen lifemate. We blooded one another, maidenhead and man pouch."
Moreya began to tremble. Preece was too close to the panting beast, only mere feet from its head and baleful eyes that glowered with hostile distrust. Moreya should edge closer to the dragon. Mayhap it would leave Preece and only seize her, or take to its wings without capturing either human. She stepped forward one pace.
Then from the corner of her eye saw King Taroch leave his high viewing dais. He thrust guards and tournament participants aside. He walked directly toward the lists. And the crouching firedrake.
"No, Your Highness, go back!" she cried out.
"Tarochin, hearken to what she says," Preece shouted. "He's come for her, but I'll not let him take her away. She is my lifemate. 'Tis true. I have regained my memory, and all is as she swore. I must give my life to protect her. You must not approach the monster."
The king did not bother to acknowledge either Moreya's caution or Preece's assertion. Taroch strode within a few yards of the young firedrake and spoke in a strange tongue. The dragon ceased whipping its tail, and gave a soft snort. The king repeated his unfamiliar phrase again. The firedrake shuffled away from all three humans, beat its powerful wings, and soared aloft.
The king turned to Moreya and Preece. "A most remarkable ending to our royal tournament. I declare my high chancellor once and still Glacia's Royal Blade, honorable champion of the Waniand throne. I caution all present here to note what they have witnessed. The chancellor's lifemate summoned a firedrake as her weapon of choice. Do you raise arms against me and mine, the mightiest of all beasts shall be our allies."
Several noblemen from adjoining realms began ordering their servants and squires to pack and prepare to journey home at once. More than one highborn lady had swooned. Maids-in-waiting waved fans or clumps of bitter herbs in attempts to revive their mistresses. A few knights stood rooted in place, hands still on the hilts of their weapons, gaping up at the now empty, placid skies.
Moreya stared at the king, astonished anew by his close resemblance to her husband as they stood together. She was even more astonished to accept that whatever Taroch said to the dragon, he'd accomplished what she never had in all her years of dealing with the creatures. : Hhe'd inspired the beast to leave them in peace.
She turned her gaze to Preece and saw his thoughts mirrored her own. He studied his cousin as though seeing the man for the first time, then swung his eyes to hers. He walked up to her, then fell to his knees in the dirt before her.
"I am most humbly sorry, Moreya. There is much I've lost. Confusion still beclouds my mind. But I recall saving you from a firedrake's aerie in Dredonia. 'Twas when I found you there, bedraggled and so unblenching, that I chose you for my lifemate." His lips quirked. "You and your bedamned glow."
The king scowled at them, then waved a hand to summon a flank of guards. The men loped quickly to his side. Taroch kept his voice low so the spectators still clogging the stands could not hear his words.
"You will take my cousin to his quarters and confine him there under arrest until further notice. The woman comes with me."
Now Taroch glared at Moreya. "Do not open those lips of yours until I give you leave to speak, lady, or I will have your tongue cut out. I wanted a day of glory, not havoc. I heard the tale of the scheduled execution, how firedrakes decimated the stage. I should be grateful you summoned but one to slay my cousin. But he is your lifemate, as you both now affirm. Intent to harm Preece is a violation of our blood code and the laws of this realm. How quickly you abuse my royal pardon."
Moreya stared after him. She allowed herself to be dragged in his wake by a pair of royal guards without offering the least struggle. She would have been frightened, if not for the strange glint in the king's eyes. She'd glimpsed the same look once or twice in her husband's. The gleam of secret amusement.
She'd tried to kill her husband by summoning a dragon to a tournament. Their new ruler - her husband's first cousin - seemed to find the attempt diverting. His tone had been harsh, but Moreya knew he intended no genuine harm should befall her. How she could be certain of that, she couldn't explain.
Except that, in retrospect, perhaps it was not so very odd. She was led off to greet whatever punishment would be meted out, thinking all the while that she and the young Glacian sovereign had much in common. She smiled even as she was escorted to a solar deep within the heart of the keep, there to await private audience with the king.
Dragons. The Warmonger.
Very strange topics on which to build mutual rapport.
Either would make a fair enough place to start.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"My cousin told you Waniands are forbidden to make deliberate false statements, did he not?"
Moreya spun at the unexpected question. The king entered the chamber where she'd been held for the past hour without a sound. She saw he wore soft leather slippers that would be soundl
ess on the stone floor. She'd not been watching for anyone, but wool-gathering, staring out the narrow wind slit as the tournament visitors dismantled their tents and straggled away from the lists.
"I never did understand why Waniands should be different than people of other bloodlines. Truth can be warped or inverted to suit the moment."
"Not by Waniands," the king said. He reached into a bowl of fresh fruit on a side table and plucked out an apple. "We do not distort or speak what we know to be untrue. That is not acceptable in our code."
Moreya answered, "Mayhap Preece's years with other races taught him to alter his ways."
"I spent months with him in Ataraxia before sailing here. He trained my men in combat, led the assault on this castle, and continues to serve as my most trusted advisor. When you and the clerics presented your petition for a pardon, Preece surreptitiously gazed upon you. He avowed he'd never before met you. Fense tarried to protest that, insisting he personally had performed a ceremony uniting you and Preece in marriage."
"He did."
"And there is a record of this ecclesiastical ceremony. I shall soon receive written proof by special messenger."
Moreya curtsied, aware belatedly that she'd never treated this Waniand monarch with the respect she'd grudgingly shown Cronel. And that fat monster had maimed and ultimately destroyed Glaryd, possibly murdered Moreya's own father. He'd never done a thing to earn Moreya's homage. Taroch had granted her a pardon. And she had greatly disappointed him with the scene today.
She rose slowly, her gaze remaining fixed on his face. "I do not know what you want from me, Your Highness. I already told you of my history with your cousin, the Warmonger. He told me Waniands do not lie, yet he lied about knowing me. We met inside this very keep. He was ordered to escort me to Greensward. His failure to do that is why he was arrested and taken before the royal tribunal."
"He not only failed to deliver you as bride to another, but wed you himself," Taroch said. Moreya nodded. She was certain Fense had already explained the complicated tale so King Taroch would understand it. Yet it seemed he was at least partly confused. "Did you wed him only to thwart the prince?"
Moreya stiffened. Despite the fact she knew most would view her motives in so simplistic a light, she knew there was more underlying her reasoning. "Nay, Sire. I had made the choice to sail with Preece to Ataraxia. I chose a new life in that realm over an arranged marriage in Greensward. Not to spite Velansare, but to better my own circumstances. I wed Preece because it is the way of my people to join in matrimony, a rite proscribed by law and the holy church to sanctify the bond between man and woman. I did not wish to be regarded as Preece's harlot."
The king took a healthy chomp out of the apple and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "To be wed is your kind's version of lifemating, is it not? Forgive my ignorance, but the cleric gave me a lengthy and befuddling explanation having to do with brimstone and eternal damnation and sacred rites."
Moreya tried to suppress her smile. The young king spoke up again.
"My skull pounded when he was finished and I still did not fathom how all of that applied to my cousin. Residing my entire life with other Waniands, I have only vague understandings of such racial differences. Explain something further. If my cousin said he would make you his lifemate, why did you also marry him? Do you believe the ratifications of your people are superior to ours? If so, why taint yourself by association?"
Moreya vehemently shook her head. "Nay, Sire. Not at all. I sought to marry your cousin because I loved him."
She realized that explanation would be of little help. Waniands did not understand the concept of romantic love any better than they did clerical and civil laws on marriage.
"I was drawn to him: as a man, as a knight of strength and honor, as a friend, and as a lover. A husband is all such things to his wife."
"So this 'love' means you wished my cousin to mount you?"
They were alone. No one else heard the question or would hear her answer, but Moreya was still mortified. One did not tell a monarch that he was impertinent or that he had no right to ask such personal questions. Neither did one refuse to answer one's sovereign. Particularly one who was kin to one's spouse.
"Yes," she murmured.
"But you no longer desire such mounting?"
She'd turned her back on him. She knew it was a breach of etiquette, possibly itself another punishable offense, but she couldn't bear to meet his inquisitive gaze. "I..." Best she be as plainly honest as Waniands were. She turned back to face him. "I do not truly know, Sire. He abandoned me and caused me grief. Deep heartache," she added when Taroch's expression remained stoic. Mayhap Waniands did not know grief, either.
"So your intent today was to retaliate, even slay him," the king mused. "Unless my ears deceived me, you claimed the choice of weapons as challenger, then stunned all and sundry by selecting a live firedrake."
He reached inside his tunic and withdrew a sealed parchment. Moreya looked about frantically for some convenient crack in the floor where she might sink straight into the castle dungeon. Surely his warrant would send her there.
"How do you summon dragons?"
That accursed question! "By drawing breath," she blurted out. "They come when I am in the open, out of doors. I've never known why. But that is why I would go to Ataraxia. There are few dragons there. How did you send it away?"
"The wizard taught me an incant - " - "
The king's answer was abruptly lost as a swordblade ripped through the wooden door. The portal splintered and crashed open amid shouts and vicious curses. Preece stumbled in, bodily dragging four guards behind him.
"Tarochin, she misbelieved she had no other choice! I beg you, do not punish her! The fault in this is truly mine." Preece's blue eyes, hot with anger, yet weary as she'd ever seen them, pinned Moreya. "Mine, not hers."
Taroch looked most displeased. "I vowed you would be given audience - by Satan's spiked tail!"
Preece collapsed at his cousin's feet.
Moreya dimly heard the king bark orders at the guards and footmen who rushed forward. She felt hands grip her upper arms, knew strangers jostled her, vaguely recognized one was addressed as royal physician. When he seized Preece by the shoulder and turned him over roughly, Moreya pulled the dagger she'd bought that morn from the armorer and held it to the back of the physician's hand.
"If you wish to keep the use of all your fingers, you will gentle your touch. This is no ordinary man, but the lord high chancellor. The king's own cousin and my husband."
"Yes, my lady. If you will allow us to take him back to his personal chambers, we may attend him there."
"What ails him?" the king demanded.
The healer cocked his head, studying the patient before him. "He fought long hours in the sun and exhausted himself further wrestling with the guards. I have three men in the infirmary in need of stitching, thanks to your Royal Blade here. He's suffered a few cuts himself and lost some blood, but he should heal well enough with proper rest."
"He was tortured and severely weakened a year past," Taroch announced softly. "You are certain 'tis naught more serious than overexertion now? My cousin's welfare is of utmost concern."
Moreya was startled by the rough tone of the king's voice, by the fondness she read in his eyes and manner. Waniands might not have words for benevolent emotions, but it was clear they nonetheless experienced them.
The physician cleared his throat. "Your champion engaged a legion of armed men in combat this day. That he could yet walk, let alone batter down yon door and best a phalanx of guards attests to his rare strength and valor."
Moreya had to admit that was certainly true. She felt a swelling of pride in her own breast. Preece deserved the title of royal champion.
"Nay, rare untowardness," Taroch replied. "He is stubborn enough for a legion of men." The king glanced at Moreya and tucked the bit of parchment back into his tunic. "Go with these men to your lifemate's chambers, Lady Moreya. You shall be confined t
here to watch over my cousin while I decide your mutual fates."
Mutual fates?
Moreya's heart lurched. Earlier that same morn, a fate interwoven with Preece's was the last thing she'd wanted. Now, having witnessed for herself his enraged brawling...seeing him openly defying the Glacian throne - his cousin's throne - she couldn't help the surge of empathy she felt.
Whatever his reasons for denouncing her previously, he'd admitted that afternoon before hundreds of witnesses that she was his chosen lifemate. He'd made the admission whilst surrounded by dozens of other Waniands. He'd crashed through the solar door to come to her defense.
He loved her, whether the concept itself had meaning in his lore or not. Whether he could put a name to the feeling or not.
Preece remembered her and loved her.
She just had to make him see it.t.
**
Preece awakened, nerve ending by nerve ending. He lay in his wide bedstead, unclothed and sprawled on his back, with a light covering of bed linens across his lower body. His forehead throbbed. Aye, he'd been struck there - first by the butt of a guardsman's lance, then by plummeting face first to the solar's hard floor. He'd broken into the chamber because Taroch had been interrogating Moreya in there.
Moreya.
At the remembrance of the name, the absolute disaster that had been his life of late fully unveiled itself. He'd argued hotly with Bourke and taunted the mage into casting a bygones spell to erase all knowledge of Moreya Fa Yune. The strange memory gaps surrounding Glacia, Preece's arrest, and Cronel's assassination stemmed from that malevolent incantation. Fortunately for Preece, the wizard's spell was powerful, but not immutable.
Memories of Moreya had still intruded during his sleep, misleading Preece to believe he'd slowly been drifting into madness. Until that afternoon, on the tournament lists, when a dragon appeared out of nowhere and landed at the feet of a slight challenger with incredibly long, flowing purple hair.
Biondine, Shannah Page 23