by Gwynn White
He obviously said the right thing because, for an instant, Lynx’s whole demeanor changed. Her fists unclenched, and her face relaxed. Even her eyes took on a softer glow. It was quickly replaced by a stiffening of her back.
Her voice was icy as she said, “Don’t you ever forget it.”
He definitely liked this woman. More than was good—for both of them. He flashed her a lethal smile, designed to conquer her heart. “Fat chance of that.”
He headed for the stairs and the princesses’ first meeting with their future spouses.
Chapter 15
Lukan straightened his black velvet waistcoat, lining up the silver trim encircling the solid silver buttons. He examined himself in his huge, ebony-framed mirror and liked what he saw: a supremely confident male of the species, born to rule. A man no woman could refuse.
Just as well, he thought wryly, because today, looks are everything.
Lynx was arriving.
Correction. Lynx was here.
His bowels rumbled as if his insides had turned to water. Axel had brought her straight to the palace from the hub. She was waiting for him in the Bronze Hall.
Lukan was late, a small act of protest against his arranged marriage.
It was all he dared risk when even this much rebellion would incense his father. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with his father’s fists today.
No one knew better than he that his tardiness made no sense. It was common knowledge that he wanted Lynx. Trouble was, want didn’t equate to marriage. It was one thing to sleep with an alluring woman—that, after all, was one of the few perks of being crown prince. It was altogether another to be forced to marry a savage whose only obvious desire was to knock his teeth out.
A sharp rap sounded on his door.
Only one person ever knocked like that. Tao. Despite everything, Lukan chuckled. So, his brother was late, too. It seemed he wasn’t the only one showing his disapproval.
Without waiting for a reply, his brother poked his head into the room. “You ready yet? Our old man will be spitting blood by now.”
“Exactly what I intended,” Lukan said, with false bravado. He caught Tao’s eye in the mirror. “You too, it would seem.”
Tao grunted, and Lukan smiled, making no move to vacate his spot.
“Relax, Tao. Spitting blood is what our congenitally insane father does best. Pity he doesn’t cough up enough to kill him.” The words were enough to sign a death warrant for any Chenayan—well, any but the emperor’s own sons.
“Like we would ever be so lucky. A knife in the lung would work, though.”
Lukan sniggered at his own image in the mirror, and the diamond next to his right eye glinted right back. “If only life were so simple.” He eyed his brother’s reflection critically. Then, because he cared more for Tao than anyone other person on the planet, he said with concern, “You look terrible.”
“Wonderful. Just what I need to hear right now.”
“You could at least have brushed that straw you call hair.”
Tao blushed scarlet. Lukan instantly regretted that remark. Tao hated everything about his looks.
“My hair is not the problem here. And neither is the old man. Not really. You are.”
The accusation in his brother’s voice jarred. It always hurt that Tao didn’t esteem him as highly. To cover up his sadness, he rubbed his angular jaw; his valet had done a good job with the shave today. Not even a hint of a shadow darkened his face.
“So you have nothing to say? Typical.” Tao kicked the air with his boot.
“I’ve told you before. I’m not taking the blame for your marriage.”
“You should, you know. If you had a shred of decency. Which you don’t.”
In his more honest moments, Lukan admitted—to himself, at least—that Tao’s nuptials were indeed his fault. If he could have changed the situation, he would have. But he had no power over his father’s decisions. He and his father had never gotten on, but in the last few months, Lukan’s frustration with his father’s brutality had reached a breaking point. He had dared to raise a number of issues, the confounded Unity with Norin being one of them. That damn thing was a curse. A literal one. And his father knew that as well as he did.
As closely guarded as the secret was, every member of the Avanov family knew that the Unity, signed between Thurban and the Norin king after the invasion, formed the backbone of the Dmitri Curse on the Avanov bloodline.
Four hundred years before, Dmitri had declared that a Norin princess would marry a crown prince and she would give birth to a son who would destroy the Avanov dynasty and the empire. If the prophecy was true, Lukan doubted any method of birth control devised by man would prevent that child’s conception.
If Lynx was the Norin princess prophesied about, she would dump a traitorous son into his lap.
Not something any prospective emperor wanted.
Six weeks ago, Lukan had taken his courage in both hands and pointed out this undisputed fact to his father. His crazy old man had taken exception. But instead of the clash of fists Lukan expected, his father had announced that Lukan was to marry Lynx—and, even more inexplicably, commanded Tao to wed Kestrel.
Tao had been quick to challenge the injustice of the punishment. He’d pointed out that he’d done nothing wrong and wasn’t part of any treaty with Norin—cursed or not. In response, his father had flung a portrait of Kestrel at Tao. That had been the end of the discussion. It was typical of his father to punish one child for the infractions of another.
Tao sighed. “Come on, Lukan, you’re pretty enough. Let’s go get this done.”
Lukan clenched his fists, and before he could stop himself, he lashed out at the thick ebony framing his mirror. A crack shot through the glass, making him curse.
“Right, break the mirror,” Tao scoffed. “That’s your answer to everything these days, isn’t it?”
“Shut up, Tao,” Lukan said, instantly regretting his flash of temper.
Tao was right; in the last few weeks the internal rage he’d kept in check his whole life had flared more and more.
“You would be angry, too, if you had to marry a woman who could bring a cursing down on your head. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. As you well know.”
Tao’s mouth dropped. “Do you think Lynx is the one prophesied about?”
Lukan shrugged. “How the hell must I know? That swine Dmitri never said the Norin princess would be wearing a sign. Just that one of them would produce a son who destroys us all.”
“Our mother was a Norin,” Tao argued. “Couldn’t one of us be—”
“Of course not.” Lukan had never once considered that he might be that son—the idea was preposterous. His shrug turned into a sigh. “And to think that all I ever wanted was to tumble Lynx.”
“You still do,” Tao said. “Admit it. Curse or not. Now, can we please go?”
Lukan chose not to reply to that truth. He glanced at his wristwatch. He had only kept his father—and Lynx—waiting ten minutes. Another couple of minutes would be needed to make his point. “For someone who’s whining so much about his marriage, you’re disgustingly keen to meet Kestrel.” He yanked his ivory-handled brush through his shoulder-length dark hair with more force than was comfortable.
“I just want to get this over with.” Tao began to pace. “Do you think she’ll be . . . nice? I mean, she’s beautiful, but that’s not everything—oh, Dragon’s arse, I hope she’s easy to get along with. I’d hate to be shackled to someone who—”
Guilt nibbled at Lukan’s conscience. “I’m sure she’s fine—for a savage.”
Bound as he was to marry a Norin princess who came bearing a possible cursing as a wedding gift, the Dmitri Curse had effectively soured Lukan on all Norin.
In truth, Lukan didn’t know any Norin other than Lord Emissary Bear. His mother had vanished when he was a toddler, leaving him estranged from that side of his family. To him, Norin were wild, ferocious people with few social
graces. Lynx had proved that when he’d seen her at the palace. Hell, all he’d done was smile at her—okay, with intent. But she’d looked at him with such hatred that, for at least a moment, her beautiful face had contorted into something truly ugly.
He hoped she’d gotten over her pique.
Being late probably wouldn’t help, but just this once, he could not let his father walk all over him.
A light knock sounded on the door. A thousand snakes flailed in Lukan’s stomach.
Tao’s head shot around to look at him. “That’s it. The summons.”
Lukan nodded. Hands shaking, he flung his hairbrush on the dresser. With no further excuses to delay him, he said, “Shoulders back and head up, Tao.”
His brother rolled his eyes.
It infuriated Lukan that Tao wouldn’t ever take his advice. Carriage mattered—critically—if one wanted to make best use of the first three seconds of an introduction. Being regal took practice. Something Tao would never understand. He strode across his apartment and flung open the door.
A guardsman bowed low. “Highness, the emperor requests the pleasure of your company.”
Lukan suppressed a bitter laugh. He’d grow wings and fly before his father requested anything. He swooped past the man into the wide passage, which linked the private wing where he, Tao, and Axel lived with the rest of the palace. Tao trailed behind him. Lukan glanced up at an ornate oil lamp above him, one of many lining the wood-paneled wall.
The sconce held a tiny camera and listening device that recorded every conversation.
Now, beyond the safety of his private apartment, everything he said would eventually reach the ears of his Uncle Felix, in charge of security.
Only the Avanov family and their most trusted officers knew of the devices. The high-born, the priestesses, the guardsmen, and the servants went about their days in blissful ignorance. The unfortunate disappearance of those who complained about Emperor Mott or the Dragon would be blamed on the Dreaded—another technological creation his ordinary subjects, illiterate and taught nothing about the world before the Burning, could not have dreamed possible.
It was a system Lukan supported as long as his conversations weren’t monitored.
All activity in the palace thoroughfares stopped as everyone bowed low to Lukan and his brother.
He scoffed at Tao, who acknowledged them with smiles and nods. Further evidence of Tao’s lack of imperial qualities. Just as well his brother was second in line for throne.
The Bronze Hall was reserved for meeting lowly vassals, but his father had decreed it a fitting place to welcome Lukan and Tao’s future wives.
Lukan’s boot barely made contact with the marble floor leading to the hall when his father bellowed, “Are you two incapable of reading a clock? You’re a disgrace to the Avanov name. A waste of skin. Both of you.” An open hand lashed out, but Lukan ducked, and it flew wide.
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.”
Chapter 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 wa
s 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.”