“I see. And is that sumptuous young male, Doral DeLorion, still your personal aide?”
“Yes, though he is not with me at the moment. Why do you ask?”
“He reminded me very much of you. Alone, either of you are enough to give a woman orgasmic daydreams for a month. The two of you together…” Her sigh verged on a moan. “Such a magnificent young male; I envy you, Magister.”
“He does not serve me in that manner, Gabriella.”
Gabriella examined Ari thoughtfully. Her teasing manner returned. “A pity. Such a waste. He is enormously gifted.” She laughed silently. “Ah well, it is a treat to see you again, Magister. You bring back fond memories.”
Gabriella bared her teeth in a wolfish grin.
His mouth quirked. His eyes cut away, then back to her. “Fond, no. Instructive, yes.”
Peregrine bit off a choke, and Gabriella cast him a sharp glance. “Follow me, young magister. I have plans for you and we have taken enough of Magister DeTano’s time.”
Ari and Gabriella exchanged respectful nods. As she strode off, Perry shot Ari a beseeching glance. Smiling slightly, he shook his head negatively in response to Peregrine’s silent plea. Ari almost took pity on the young man, but the portion of him still snarling in murderous fury at seeing Peregrine with Fleur held him back. She is MINE.
He watched thoughtfully as Mistress Gabriella shepherded the miserable fifth-level back to the High Enclave. Where did that thought come from?
Hearing a small intake of breath, Ari turned. Fleur stood quietly in the door to her chamber. A semi-transparent, rose-colored gown, held at each shoulder with a sparkle of gold, draped her delicate form. The dark tips of her breasts and vee of her mound hinted at her naked body underneath. Her pale hair flowed in wild disorder to her waist. Her lazy-lidded blue eyes beguiled with sexual satiation. His need to possess her punched him in the gut with a violence that left him disturbed.
“By Her Light, Perry must think I am the worst kind of monster. I did not know he was not allowed to…I would never have asked Perry if I had known. Four more months? How will he endure it?” She paused thoughtfully. “You don't need to answer. I have a very good idea how he feels.”
He looked at her sternly. “I warn you. You must let the cinnagin clear your body. I will not rescue you like this again.” A slight smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “If you ignore my warning again, you will learn all about living on the ‘edge’, sweet lady. And don’t think I wouldn’t enjoy it. Wicked of me, perhaps, but I love hearing women beg.”
She drew herself up to every diminutive, stately inch she possessed.
She laughed humorlessly. “Wicked? Oh yes, I have been cautioned about you from an appalling number of sources.” Exasperation colored her voice.
“Regardless, it is in your best interests to keep me well satisfied.” Tipping her head upward, she threw a challenging glance his way.
He raised his eyebrows amused at her defiance. “Oh?”
“House Constante wishes you to honor the contract you signed fifteen years ago.” She looked down at her hands. “My father is dying.” She reacted to his expression of surprise at her quiet statement with a sad smile. “Yes, it has been one of our better kept secrets. I have administered Verdantia’s business in my father’s name for the last year. My counselors felt the LFP would not be straightforward with a young, inexperienced woman and it would hinder our military efforts. ”
“No, they would have used you for their own purposes and the Haarb most certainly would have redoubled their attacks. You did well, Your Highness.”
“I won’t play games, Ari. I need you. I need your experience, your strength, your wisdom. I need ‘High Lord and Supreme Joint Commander, Camliel Aristos DeTano—diplomat, tactician, revered Verdantian military hero’.” She added almost inaudibly, “I need…” She wrapped her finger in a piece of ribbon hanging from her gown. “Do you think you could…” She sighed and shook her head.
He crossed to her, standing at arm's length to search her face. Her vulnerable, gentle appeal for his help pulled every testosterone-laden string in his body.
“Finish your thought. Do I think I could ever what?”
She shook her head. “It is not important.”
“So, you propose a marriage of political expediency. What about heirs? What about those softer feelings women seem to want? What about love?” His eyes never left her face but she betrayed no emotion.
“I should like at least two children with you. After that…” She shrugged. Pink crept up her neck to her cheeks. “And of course, a partner in the Lesser and Great Rites.”
She turned and walked to a table holding a chess set and started to rearrange the pieces.
“As for softer feelings…” She glanced at him quickly, then turned away. He heard the steady tick of the timekeeper on the far table. “I would hope you could come to like me—a little.”
The game pieces were now in complete disarray.
“I am not indifferent to you, Your Highness.”
Several chessmen rolled onto the floor. Her back straightened. “So two heirs and an inexperienced partner in the rites don’t put you off?”
“You are a very beautiful woman. Having sex with you is not onerous.” A wry smile crooked his mouth. “I have enough experience for ten people and I rather like children.”
“And the other? The ‘liking’?” She stood motionless. He didn’t think she took a breath.
“It is difficult not to like you, Fleur.” And I have quit fighting it.
Her posture relaxed. “So, you will consider it?”
“Yes. I will consider it.”
She nodded silently. Ari left her standing in her antechamber, her back to the door.
* * * * *
Mistress Gabriella stared at Patricio. “By Her light, Ruprecht. What happened to your eyebrows?”
Elder Patricio glared at her. “I was leaning over a cold brazier. It ignited suddenly. Now, what did you find out?”
“Patience, Ruprecht. Patience. Your spies were correct. The conte and his aide maintain a strictly platonic relationship.”
She swung her gaze up and down the corridor. It irritated him. One would think she didn’t want to been seen with him.
She faced him again. “He said DeLorion did not serve him in ‘that manner’.”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing, is easy with that man.” The elder sighed heavily, exasperated beyond belief.
“Perhaps Contradina did more damage to DeLorion than we knew,” he theorized. “I wonder if there is a physical problem. You would think… They have been in such close proximity. The conte’s celibacy is very out of character.” Patricio raised a brow in question.
Gabriella shrugged. “It is more likely the non-fraternization order he issued when he took command. The visconte is his subordinate. DeTano is too honorable to violate his own orders.”
The tall brunette returned her gaze to Elder Patricio. “When are you going to tell him?”
“I think it best to get the princess legally joined to him before I bring up the visconte. I still don’t know how that will fall out.” Patricio sighed tiredly. “He has not said he will marry her. We desperately need DeTano’s cooperation. For the first time in 450 years, the necessary genes might come together.” Patricio’s raspy voice rose on a note of excitement, then fell. “But I can’t get the confounded man to stay in one place long enough to test it. That man is a mystery to me. After all these years, I still cannot anticipate DeTano’s response. Dealing with him is like juggling balls of energy plasma, and no matter how delicately I move, he still explodes in my face.”
Gabriella eyed him without sympathy. “I told you fifteen years ago not to manipulate him. He is far too intelligent and headstrong. He should have been told the possibilities. You have consistently mishandled him. His estrangement from the palace and the L’anziano is on your head.”
“Fine. So help me, damn you. You know what is at stake. He told me himsel
f, Verdantia spoke to him, told him of another. If those three can be brought together in the Chambre Cristalle, they could generate infinite amounts of workable energy. Think, woman! Think of the possibilities. They might be another Tetriarch. We must have the three of them together.”
“Try some diplomacy, Ruprecht. Try asking the man. It won’t work unless they are willing. I suppose you could have the king command his obedience but that didn’t work very well the last time you tried—did it?” She eyed him disdainfully. “How many years did DeTano stay off-planet? Ah, yes, seven. And you should put something on those burns.”
Patricio watched coldly as she walked away. Diplomacy—pftt—I’m going to the king. DeTano won’t leave Verdantia in the middle of this war.
* * * * *
“Conte DeTano.” A palace page called Ari’s name as he crossed the stone courtyard toward the stables to check on Grey. “Yes?”
“You are summoned to attend the king. He is in his solar.”
“I have been off-world for years. I am not familiar with the palace. You will have to show me the way.”
“Yes, Your Lordship. If you will follow me, please.” The page turned on his heels and walked off. Ari trailed along.
The king's solar turned out to be some distance from the courtyard, hidden in the immense, sprawling complex of the royal palace. He was thoroughly lost by the time the page brought him to a door like tens of others they had passed. I should have dropped breadcrumbs.
The armed sentry standing to attention at the door took one look at Ari, asked him to wait and vanished behind the door. Several minutes later, Elder Patricio appeared. “Conte DeTano, please, enter.”
Elder Patricio? What in the seven hells of Jurossa? Whatever happened to the man’s bushy eyebrows?
Ari followed Patricio through a high-arched hallway into a bright, sun-lit room. The soaring ceilings and twenty-foot windows gave the stone-tiled chamber an airy spaciousness. The lush plantings of potted citri trees, ferns and exotic flowers scented the air with a fresh, earthy smell. Tucked into an ell in the room almost submerged in robes and furs was the king.
Ari fought to hide his shock. Though Fleur had warned him, Ari was unprepared for the wasted husk of a man before him. There had not been a whisper of his condition outside the palace.
From a tactical standpoint, the silence made excellent sense. The Haarb would love to know the king was deathly ill and that illness would certainly have made dealings with the LFP more difficult. The palace had controlled any gossip admirably, assisted, he was sure, by the Haarb’s sixteen month siege.
“Conte DeTano.” The king's feeble voice was barely audible. Pulling a shaking hand out of his robes, he motioned to Ari. “Come closer.”
Striding up to within two feet of the king's chair, Ari dropped to one knee and bowed his head respectfully. “Your Majesty. How may I serve you?”
“Rise, Conte DeTano.” The king scrutinized him for a long moment. “Our daughter tells Us you discussed honoring your marriage contract with Our House—that you promised her an answer.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I have.”
“You are taking your own damned time,” the king observed sourly.
Ari cut his eyes to Elder Patricio. The elder's neutral expression betrayed nothing. What had he done to his eyebrows? It was very distracting.
“With respect, Sire, there is much to consider,” he replied.
“Humph, with respect,” the king snorted sarcastically. A hacking cough cut him short, wracking his frail body. With a shaking fist, he held a blood-stained linen cloth to his mouth. His head fell back weakly when the spasms passed.
“We don’t like you. We cannot like your reputation. We cannot like you as consort to Our daughter and We don’t care about the L’anziano’s damned contract.” The king pointed a shaking finger to a folded sheet of parchment bearing his official seal. “That is the King’s Warrant stripping you of rank and confining you to your estates under penalty of imprisonment. I signed it four years ago when Ambassador Santorini returned from Triton without his junior envoy. We are very tempted to implement it to remind you just who it is you defied!” The king doubled over in a spate of coughing, dabbing at the bloody spittle dotting his lips. Under control once more, he lay back and eyed Ari silently.
Skewered by the king's acute scrutiny, Ari stood stiffly. The king’s response was warranted by his own appalling reputation. His failure to return with the rest of the diplomatic party denoted a willful disregard for the authority of his king, his parents and the L’anziano. Surely, though, his actions of the last three years counted as credit against his previous twelve of rebelliousness.
“We are not blind to your actions of late, however, particularly your care of Our daughter following the Great Rite,” the king said begrudgingly, as if reading Ari’s mind. “Elder Patricio has assured Us both Fleur and Verdantia could be in no better hands.”
The king gave an aggravated grunt. “Patricio continually dissuaded Us from dissolving that contract and incarcerating you in a dark prison to rot until you came to your senses. Did you know he has been your champion for years?” Watching Ari’s face, the king rasped dryly, “Ruprecht told Us you might find it hard to believe.”
“And—Ruprecht—would be correct.” By Her light, what a ghastly name. Ari raised an inquiring eyebrow and regarded Elder Patricio steadily.
“It would be a tragedy to lose your genes,” commented the elder blandly.
Ari tried, belatedly, to suppress a sarcastic snort.
“Conte, Ruprecht, please.” The king closed his eyes. “Conte DeTano, We are dying. Our daughter will shortly assume Our crown. The Haarb eviscerated our Parliament and House of Lords. They sold two-thirds of our population, scattering them among the stars.” He paused, panting, attempting to catch his breath. “Our daughter, when she succeeds Us as Queen, will be burdened with restoring orderly government to Verdantia and reconstructing our society. Never in its history has House Constante been so challenged. She needs a consort who will support her. She needs a man of experience and honor, not some,” the king lifted his head and confronted Ari, “licentious opportunist.”
Only the king’s stertorous breathing disturbed the quiet as he continued to examine Ari with cold antipathy.
Ari’s impassive mask gave no hint at the rage boiling inside him.
“Sire,” Patricio interjected into the uneasy stillness. “Do not be misled by the court gossips. They paint Conte DeTano as a trifling profligate whose greatest talents are in bed. They gravely misjudge him. He has an excellent mind. Among the LFP, the conte is widely respected as an unusually effective diplomat and a brilliant military strategist. His leadership unified our scattered, isolated forces into an effective fighting unit under a single command. The men and women who serve under Conte DeTano are devoted to him and he has demonstrated his loyalty to Verdantia repeatedly. Your Majesty, Conte DeTano is very capable—very, very, capable.”
The elder rubbed at the healing puncture under his chin. “I know from personal experience to what lengths the conte will go to keep Her Royal Highness safe.” Elder Patricio caught Ari’s eyes and bowed ever so slightly, a hesitant, wry smile tipping the corners of his mouth.
Ari had always been aware he provided juicy meat to the busy character assassins and duplicitous sycophants surrounding Verdantian aristocracy. He was indifferent to that. They were nothing to him. But to be defended for years by Elder Patricio? That took him down at the knees. Ari studied the elder with careful consideration. He works from some ulterior motive. I am certain of it. What is his real objective? He ridiculed himself, inwardly. No doubt, all will become clear when the elder’s machinations have shaped me to his purpose.
Silence continued to fill the solar for interminable minutes as the king stared at Ari with blatant dislike. A live coal of antagonism glowed in Ari’s gut. Finally the king spoke.
“Thank you, Ruprecht. We have always found your judgment sound. You have been a good friend
.” The king smiled slightly at Elder Patricio before turning a hostile eye toward Ari. “So, Conte DeTano, what do you say?”
“Sire.” Ari bowed. At the king’s impatient gesture, he continued. “If it pleases Your Majesty, House DeTano will honor its obligation to Principessa Royal Fleur Constante.”
The king grunted. “Our choices are limited and Patricio is willing to speak for you. So, Conte DeTano, it seems it must please Us.” He closed his eyes and sank back into his furs. “We don't want an elaborate funeral. Bury Us quietly. Our people have seen enough death. We prefer they celebrate your nuptials and Our daughter's coronation.” He shifted uncomfortably, bringing the bloody cloth up to wipe his mouth. “You may leave Us.”
And with that, I am dismissed! Bowing once again to the king and, surprising even himself, to Elder Patricio, Ari left the sunlit room and attacked the maze of corridors, winding his way back, he hoped, to the stables of the L’anziano. He blamed his abstraction considering his stunning audience with the king for becoming wholly, thoroughly, unreservedly, lost.
Her, by the seven hells, that is all this morning needed.
“Ari? What are you doing down here?”
“Your Highness,” Ari acknowledged. “I was trying to find the stables. Feel free to go about your business.”
“You succeeded in finding the laundry.” The corners of Fleur’s eyes crinkled. “You rode fifty-some miles, cross-country, at night, chased by a Haarb patrol and you cannot find your way from the palace to the stables?” Her mouth quivered.
Mouthy little witch. Ari gave her “the look”—the one that stopped hardened soldiers dead in their tracks.
Her smile widened until she wore a ridiculous grin.
Damnation. Ari gave a bark of laughter. “It is rather absurd.” He grinned back at her. Their joint laughter echoed against the stone walls.
Running her arm through his, Fleur smiled at him sweetly. “Follow me, my intrepid, directionally-challenged warlord. I will lead you where you need to go.”
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