“But . . .” Jazmene started.
Undene cut her off. “Your Majesty, don’t despair. You want my advice? Let them breed. He’ll seed her soon enough, and she’ll be worth even more to you. They will spawn a coven of witches and warlocks the likes of which Cormalen hasn’t seen for a thousand years.”
“But he only has a slight talent,” Jazmene sputtered.
“She has all the talent you need. He has the stamina to wield it. Plait their bloodlines together, and you’ll reap the strengths of both in the offspring.”
Merius finally found his voice. “Crude hag. You talk like you’re in a stable, and we’re prize horses. Get the hell out of here,” he demanded.
“When you reach my age, Quicksilver, you have no time for the niceties. You should be grateful to me for pointing out your,” she paused, “special gifts. There are far worse fates than being a witch‘s stud.”
Merius rose to do battle--I could see it in the set line of his blade-thin mouth, his taut, almost brittle movement, his blazing eyes. “Merius, no . . .” I grabbed his wrist.
At my touch, his aura exploded, a thousand sparks that darted around the chamber like silver hornets. A few hit my exposed arm with a brief sting that soon faded to a pleasant tingle, and I sighed, oddly comforted. The others were not so calm. The guards dropped on their knees and covered their heads, cursing as the sparks hit them. Toscar grabbed Jazmene and pulled her towards the door. Black marks appeared on the expanse of her skirt as the sparks charred small holes in the delicate fabric. She exclaimed at the sight, and Toscar crouched down to beat out the tiny streams of smoke rising from her skirt. Only Undene stood still, her face tilted up as if she lifted it toward the sunlight, the agape expression of ecstasy slackening her features. The intoxicating scent of searing liquor filled the air, Merius’s aura distilled. The sparks lit silver fires against the shifting shadows of Undene’s aura, and she sighed much as I had sighed at the tingling sting, her body swaying slightly. Merius and I stared at her, and he sank back on the bed, his arm circling my shoulders.
*Most bizarre evening I’ve ever had. He thought. *Why is that evil harpy swaying like that, like this is some kind of profane dance?
I paused. *I think she likes your aura.
He shuddered, then grimaced. “Dear God,” he said aloud.
“You didn’t disappoint, Quicksilver,” Undene said then, her tone languid and heavy as if it took more effort than usual to speak. The guards raised their heads and looked around wildly, then got to their feet. Jazmene and Toscar straightened from where they crouched near the door, though neither looked anywhere near as wild-eyed as the guards. I couldn’t imagine Jazmene ever looking wild about anything, even though her gown had almost caught fire--she did have a regal bearing even if she had none of the other traits a good queen should have.
“You mean, you deliberately provoked that?” I asked, my voice trembling. “All your filthy talk was just a way to anger him so his aura would . . . would perform for you? That’s, that’s . . .” I could find no words to spew the bitter black stew of my utter rage and disgust. Merius’s hand curled around my shoulder.
Undene grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “Little one, you’re quite the lucky witch, to have that in your bed every night.”
“You bitch,” Merius said with no inflection. “Get that bitch out of here. Now.”
Neither Toscar nor the guards hesitated--apparently they didn’t want another storm of fiery hornets. Toscar grasped Undene’s arm and led her from the chamber, the guards opening the door for them. Undene threw her head back and laughed, a loud cackling we could hear even after Toscar deposited her in the hall. After he returned, no one spoke. They just stared, their gazes boring into us until I couldn’t bear it.
“Merius, let me go--I feel ill.” I lurched off the bed and toward the urn on the table, the only thing I could pick out in my desperation that wasn‘t near the washstand and the broken glass. Merius followed, close as my shadow, and held my shoulders as I choked over the urn, too nauseated to care that they all watched me. Thank goodness I had eaten little earlier; otherwise I would have retched and made a real spectacle of myself.
“My dear, I apolo--” Jazmene started finally, stopped by my look.
“Save it, Your Majesty. I have no interest in hearing anything you or any of your underlings have to say at this point. I trust that Merius and I provided a good evening’s entertainment?”
Two white dents appeared at the sides of her forehead. The diamond edges of her aura appeared cracked. “All right,” she said, her voice too carefully modulated. “Since you seem determined to take insult, let me phrase my question another way. Is there anything you need?”
“Our freedom from this wretched place,” my voice broke on the word freedom as I started to sob.
“For pity’s sake, Your Majesty, get out of here. All of you, get out and leave us alone,” Merius said, enfolding me in his arms.
“Merius, I don’t take orders in my own palace,” the queen said, sounding tired for the first time since I’d met her. “However, I can see that both you and Safire are rather--unsettled. If I’d known what Undene was going to say, I never would have allowed her in here. Her age and great witch power make her unstable at times, and she says things that aren’t for polite company--”
“She has the filthiest mouth I’ve ever heard, and I’ve been to battle with lots of rough-edged Cormalen types, Your Majesty. I‘ve never heard anyone talk like that, especially considering Safire and I were within earshot.”
“A bath--I want a bath,” I said aloud. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling Undene’s shadow fingers still clinging to my hair, my skin, like rancid grease.
"That can certainly be accommodated. Anything else?"
"My sword, so I can cut out that crone's filthy tongue," Merius said.
“All right, that’s enough,” Jazmene snapped. “I’m doing my best to be conciliatory, and you still mock me . . .”
“Conciliatory? Conciliatory!” I screeched. “Offering us the common decency of a bath is being conciliatory? After you’ve tortured my husband and sent some mud-mouthed evil witch to spy on us? Forgive me, Your Majesty, but Cormalen beggars have better manners than you. If you expect me to paint under such conditions, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“Oh, my dear, you’ll paint. You’ll paint under whatever conditions I set for you, and at the moment, I should warn you--I am most displeased.”
I laughed. “Really? You’re displeased? I’m displeased too, Your Majesty. For the past several months, the first months of our marriage, you and your men hounded me into hiding. Now neither our family in Cormalen nor Lord Rankin has any idea what‘s happened to us. Then you imprisoned Merius, injured him, poisoned him, tortured him . . . and I was in his head for all of this, so when you tortured him, hurt him, you hurt me as well. Neither of us has had a decent night‘s sleep in a week.” A sob rose in my throat so that I had to stop for a moment to catch my breath. Merius gripped my shoulder, even his thoughts silent. “Now you threaten me again, and you think that will force me to create for you? Your Majesty, I’ll slay myself before I give you the satisfaction.”
I tore myself from Merius’s grip, my movement so sudden that not even he reacted soon enough. I reached down and grabbed a shard from the broken mirror, the edges slicing my hand. I could see the blood rising in red beads on the surface of my skin, but I couldn’t feel any pain. It was as if some other woman’s hand picked up the glass. The baby’s wail echoed in my head, rising to a scream that stabbed bright dagger blades into the inside of my skull and the backs of my eyes. The flash of light on the blades blinded me for an instant, and I raised my hands to my cracking head. When I could see again, I looked at myself in surprise. It was like encountering some other Safire in a dream. Trickles of blood ran down my arm like tears, but I still couldn’t feel the mirror shard cutting into my flesh.
“For Aesir’s sake, stop her, Radik--stop her!” Jazmene yelled f
rom a great distance.
Strong arms encircled me from behind, jerking me back to solid reality. Suddenly, my hand hurt, just a little sting where the edges of the glass bit into the skin. The baby’s scream stabbed inside my head again, a silvery light all I could see suddenly. I struggled against the arms, against the painful light.
“Shh, Safire, it’s me,” Merius breathed in my hair. I could hardly hear him over the baby’s scream.
“Merius?” I said, my voice sounding unused and raspy.
He kissed my ear, and the baby’s scream faded to a hiccupping caterwaul, then to a faint whimper. The light faded as well, the blinding silver heat becoming a cozy pewter warmth, soft as a cloud.
I sighed. “It is you.”
“Can you do something for me?”
“What?”
He reached up, toward my hand. “Give me the glass.”
“No--it may cut you.”
“It’s already cutting me, Safire.”
I gulped air and let him take the glass. He tossed it back on the bed--I heard the soft thump as it hit the tangles of bedclothes. The air against my hand stung, then burned. I drew breath through my teeth and closed my hand into a fist, which eased the pain of the cut a bit.
“Here, Safire, let me see your hand,” Toscar said, his boots crunching on the glass as he came forward.
I glanced up, met his cool, steady gaze, and clenched my hand against my chest, blood dotting the fabric of my shift. He reached for my hand, and I cringed against Merius.
“Safire, let him see it,” Merius said.
I shook my head. “I don’t trust him . . .”
“Sweet, it needs a bandage. Now.”
My gaze never leaving Toscar’s, I slowly extended my hand. His fingers were smooth, smooth but not soft, like touching warm marble. He turned my hand palm up, and I unfurled my fingers to show the shiny scarlet wound, a terrible flower blossoming on my skin. It hurt now, a sharp stabbing pain, and I gritted my teeth.
“You’ve given yourself quite a nasty cut. You should heal it before it gets infected,” Toscar said, his hazel eyes intent on my face. He probed my mind as he probed the cut, the intense indigo line of his aura chilling the air.
I stared at him. “Did you say heal it?”
“Yes.” He didn’t blink once. Did these people never stop prodding and poking?
“What makes you think I can heal my own wounds, Lord Toscar?”
“Radik,” Jazmene said. “Enough questions for tonight. Safire seems exhausted.”
Toscar nodded and proceeded to wipe the blood away with a damp washcloth. Then he knotted a large, clean handkerchief around my hand, his movements deft as if he had done this a hundred times. He gripped my hand, his eyes still intent on mine. Despite the pain, I fought him when he tried to draw my hand closer to him.
Toscar smiled thinly. “I’m not done, Safire.” I quit fighting his grip for an instant, thinking perhaps he was not finished with the bandage. He then raised my hand to his lips in a mockery of the typical courtly gesture, his sharp eyes never leaving mine. I snatched my hand away at the touch of his dry, cool mouth, wincing at the sudden movement.
“You’re a bit uncivilized, I’m afraid,” Toscar said. “But then that’s part of your charm.” He spared a look at Merius, and I knew then that this latest gesture was part of an elaborate prelude to their duel, some masculine ritual that I didn‘t quite understand.
Merius heaved a deep breath behind me, ruffling my hair. “Never touch Safire again, Lord Radish.” *Wish I could work up another storm of sparks—it would be a useful weapon if I could control it. His willingness to do anything to protect me, even after all my blunders, made the air catch in my throat.
The queen tittered, and Toscar’s smile stretched thin as a piece of parchment as he looked at me again. “On my estate, I used to set out snares for the rabbits,” he said. “One day, I accidentally caught a bird, a young egret that had lost its way. It was fierce and wild--the snare had hurt its leg.”
“What did you do with it?” I asked.
“I kept it. We clipped its wings so it couldn’t fly, and it lived with the peacocks on the lawn near the river edge.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because it was beautiful.”
“But it was made to fly and be free. You can’t own a wild animal,” I managed over the panic fluttering frail wings inside me.
“The egret eventually accepted its limitations--our lawn was comfortable, and it was safe there. There’s much to be said for security. I’d hate to see such a rare creature killed for sport. There are many hunters in this world, Safire--be grateful we found you first.”
Chapter Thirty - Merius
The click of the key turning in the lock awakened me. My eyes flew open, and for an instant, the harsh light of midday blinded me. “Damn it,” I muttered and fumbled for Safire amongst the mounds of scattered pillows. They had stripped away the sheets and bed curtains last night, leaving us only pillows and the duvet, so it should have been easier to find her. A few copper strands of hair across one pillow was the only visible evidence of her--at some point in the night, she had made a nest of pillows and curled up in it like a cat.
The door opened. A maid entered, her arms straining under the weight of a domed silver tray. Two queen’s guards flanked her. I sat up, my back against the bolster, and watched their quiet progress to the table at the foot of the bed. The maid set the tray down with only the faintest rattle. Then she glanced up and noticed me watching her, my arms across my chest. She started, her pale skin flushing, her young eyes wide. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen, apparently too young to have acquired the experienced servant’s sangfroid. She’d have it soon enough, working at this place.
Safire stirred then--I heard her muffled sigh. “Stay there a moment, sweetheart,” I said, touching her shoulder through the duvet.
“Merius?” she murmured, still half asleep.
*Guards and a maid in here--stay put till they leave.
“Her Majesty trusts you and your wife have slept well, sir,” the maid said, her high, childlike voice faltering as her words echoed in the vaulted ceiling. “Is there anything you require?”
“Thank you, but no. My only requirement is that we be left in peace.”
She started to speak, then put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I hope I didn’t wake you before. I tried to be so quiet . . . Her Majesty ordered that you were not to be woken, and . . .” she said in a rush.
“Katrina,” the older guard rumbled and put his hand on her shoulder as if to silence her.
“Wait, you were in here before?” I asked quietly.
“Yes, two times at least. So you didn’t hear me?” Her relief was palpable, in direct contrast to the sinking in my gut as I realized that I had slept through an invasion, not just once but twice. How could I have been off my guard so badly? I was a battle-hardened warrior, trained to sleep on my feet and be alert at the slightest noise. Father would never have slept through someone entering his chamber, much less his prison cell, if he’d ever had one.
*Merius, stop it. Safire’s inner voice held a touch of weary impatience. *I bet if Mordric had his ribs bruised, been held down and poisoned, had horrific nightmares every time he dozed off for a week, and then been tormented by that wretched Jazmene and her vicious lapdogs, he‘d sleep twelve hours straight through an earthquake if offered the chance. And I never realized till I was in your thoughts how much you’re a prisoner of your father’s example. If you compare yourself to him one more time and find yourself wanting, I’ll fling myself out the window.
“You can’t--there are bars on it,” I said aloud without thinking. The guards and the maid all started this time, and I realized they’d been watching me.
“What was that, sir?” the maid asked. “Do you need something after all?”
“No, thank you. Please leave.”
“Does your wife need anything?”
Safire suddenl
y rose out of the rough sea of pillows like a siren, startling everyone. “No, I’m fine,” she said. She ran her hands through her messy curls and then stretched. “Thank you--you’ve been most kind,” she continued as she offered a dazzling smile to the maid.
“My lady, you have such beautiful hair,” the maid exclaimed. “Like a flame--I’ve never seen hair that color before.”
“Thank you.”
“You know, my mother fixed all the ladies’ hair for the balls and such--she trained me. I could fix yours, if you like.”
“I’m sure you’re very talented, but I don’t think Her Majesty will be allowing me to go to balls anytime soon. It‘s a shame, for Merius and I do love to dance, but Her Majesty has her reasons.” Safire made Jazmene sound like some thin-lipped maiden aunt chaperone, too mean and jealous to allow her charges any fun.
*Watch this--these guards are accustomed to guarding other men. Then I heard the soft thump of Safire's feet finding the floor as she slid her legs out from under the duvet. “Oh, these tiles are cold,” she exclaimed with a shiver. “Whatever did I do with my slippers? I thought they were right here . . .” Barely were the words out of her mouth when the younger guard and the maid rushed over to help her. The older guard at least remembered his training and hovered at the foot of the bed where he had a clear view of me.
“How silly of me,” Safire said as the younger guard pulled her slippers out from under the bed like an overly eager pup wanting to please his mistress. “They were right there the whole time. Thank you--” she gave a slight pause, “What’s your name anyway?”
The guard clambered to his feet, his face flushed. “Ettore, my lady.”
“Well, thank you, Ettore.” She turned to the maid. “And you’re Katrina?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Then Safire turned to look at the older guard, the duvet slipping down a few inches as if by accident. “And what’s your name?” she asked him.
Tapestry Lion (The Landers Saga Book 2) Page 54