“You’re bringing Mother?” Ember gaped at him. “There’s no place for her in this. What of the attack?”
Her father shrugged. “I do not wish to endanger my wife, but do you not think it would raise questions if your mother wasn’t in attendance at your own wedding?”
She frowned. “Make an excuse. Say she is ill and cannot travel.”
“And what of Agnes?” he replied. “Will you keep your sister from the wedding as well?”
Ember glared at him, caught by the truth of his words but hating them.
“Lady Morrow,” Mackenzie offered gently, “none of us want harm to befall your mother or sister. I will assign one of my most trusted men to protect them when the battle begins.”
Resigned to the strength of their argument, Ember asked, “And who will go to the rift?”
Kael smiled at her. “Those of us who wouldn’t dare show our faces to congratulate you on your wedding.”
“And how will you gain access to the keep?” Mackenzie frowned at the Conatus knights. “I know of only two entrances, neither of which would let you pass unnoticed.”
“We have unusual means of travel that will allow us to bypass the guarded entryways,” Lukasz answered.
“Hmpf.” Edmund eyed Lukasz warily. “More of this magic, I suppose. I do not wish to know of it, for I blame such things for our current sorrows. Witches and sorcerers be damned.”
“Not all magics bring evil to the world,” Rebekah chided, earning a bitter glare from Ember’s father.
“We’ll rely on yours to close the gate,” Mackenzie added.
Tamur spoke up, frowning at the group. “You are all familiar with this keep. Are you certain the room in which the rift is found will be unguarded?”
“My sister only posts guards at the door when she is holding court,” Cian answered.
“Eira holds court now?” Kael’s eyes widened.
Cian’s jaw clenched, and she nodded.
“Her lust for power has overwhelmed all else,” Father Michael said sadly.
“And this creature, Bosque Mar.” Kurjii frowned. “Though he is not human, you expect he will be present to witness the marriage.”
“Bosque has taken a special interest in Alistair,” Ember answered. “I cannot imagine he would be absent for such an important event.”
“I’m afraid that raises another matter,” Father Michael said, his voice troubled. “Though I know not if it affects our plans, I would not be blind to a threat that may exist.”
“What is it?” Lukasz asked the priest.
“As Lady Morrow says, Bosque Mar favors Lord Hart,” Father Michael replied. “And he has put Alistair to work within the catacombs and given him the assistance of Hamish, who was once a formidable cleric.”
Ember tilted her head, looking thoughtfully at Father Michael. “Alistair spoke to me of this work. He said it was a special task given to him by Bosque.”
“I fear what occurs in the tombs beneath Tearmunn’s manor,” Father Michael said. He met Ember’s gaze. “Lady Morrow, though I do not wish to further endanger you, you are the most likely person to discover what occupies Alistair’s days.”
“I will do what I can,” Ember said quickly. It wasn’t that she was eager to take risks, but that the strategy they’d adopted at her suggestion would mean every day was a day closer to a wedding she didn’t want. Uncovering the mystery of Alistair’s work for Lord Mar would offer a welcome, if dangerous, distraction.
“Very well.” Mackenzie grunted, pushing himself out of his seat. “I believe we have settled all that we can for now. A hard road lies ahead, and I suggest we feast while we can.”
Mackenzie left the chamber and the others filed out after him. Ember began to follow, but a hand caught her wrist, holding her back. Barrow looked down at her. He’d been unusually silent, but Ember didn’t have to ask why.
When they were alone in the room, he turned her to face him. His hands rested on her hips and he pulled her close. In silence, his fingers moved up the sides of her body, over her shoulders, down her arms to briefly clasp her hands. Then he slid his hands through her hair as he bent to kiss her. Ember knew their embrace would be brief, that neither their circumstance nor this castle afforded them time and space enough for the intimacy she craved. Nothing could be done to change that. When their lips parted, Ember felt a hollow ache beneath her ribs.
Barrow kissed her cheek before resting his forehead against hers. They didn’t speak, and Ember didn’t want to. Words wouldn’t bring what she longed for.
EIRA GAZED AT ALISTAIR. The young knight had been holding his breath while she considered his petition. She briefly toyed with the idea of seeing whether he’d turn blue in the face before she gave answer. Love made such fools of otherwise worthwhile men.
“This is what you truly desire?” Eira asked, frowning at him.
“I know it’s a large sum, my lady.” Alistair gasped the words. “I’m sorry that Lord Morrow seeks to punish you because I would marry Ember instead of seeing her the wife of Gavin Mackenzie.”
Eira tapped Edmund Morrow’s letter on the arm of her throne. Ember’s father was a pathetic, selfish man, but money was of little consequence to Eira. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“I love her,” Alistair said quietly, lowering his gaze.
“Very well.” Eira looked to Ember, who stood alongside Alistair. The young couple had requested an audience the moment Ember had returned from Eilean Donan, despite the late hour. Eira had deigned to see them in her own bedchamber and had summoned Bosque to attend the meeting as well.
The pair kept stealing glances at each other, like children who’d been caught breaking rules. Eira observed them with a mixture of amusement and befuddlement.
“Lady Morrow, your father asks for the wedding to take place while he remains at Mackenzie’s castle.”
“Yes, my lady.” Ember smiled shyly at Alistair. “But I do not mind. I would sooner be married to Lord Hart than wait another day.”
When Ember looked upon him with love, Alistair thought his heart would burst. “I also do not wish to wait.”
Eira crumpled the letter in her hand so she wouldn’t groan at their sickeningly sweet words.
“A week from today will provide enough time for arrangements to be made,” Father Michael offered.
“Next Friday?” Eira glanced at Bosque, who as usual stood to her left. “What say you, Lord Mar?”
Bosque smiled at her, mischief dancing in his silver eyes. “I believe Lord Hart should not be denied his heart’s desire. Let the wedding take place Friday.”
Eira held his intent gaze, wondering what he was up to.
“I shall make arrangements.” Father Michael bowed.
“Take Lady Morrow with you,” Bosque told the priest abruptly. “We require a private audience with Lord Hart.”
A flicker of discontent passed like a shadow over Ember’s face, but she curtsied and followed the priest out of the great hall.
Alistair watched until they were gone, then turned to Bosque. “Is something amiss?”
“I don’t know,” Bosque answered. “What has she told you of the gathering at Mackenzie’s castle?”
“That her father has changed little.” Alistair’s voice was gruff, indignant on his beloved’s behalf. “He would have married her to Mackenzie’s son but for her pleas to be wed to me. And as you know, he assented to that only by promise of payment.”
“And nothing else?” Bosque frowned at Alistair.
“There’s the matter of Agnes,” Alistair offered.
Bosque laid his arm over the back of Eira’s throne. “The bribe requested for Agnes should be denied.”
“What?” Alistair replied in alarm.
“Don’t fear for your wedding, Lord Hart.” Bosque smiled at him. “We won’t revoke the offer to pay to restore Agnes to her father until after you and Ember are wed.”
Eira turned in her seat to look up at Bosque. “You want to keep the girl here?
”
Bosque nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “She remains valuable. Particularly as a means of preventing any missteps on the part of Alistair’s new bride.”
“You want to continue to hold Agnes as a hostage?” Alistair asked.
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Bosque replied. “But Agnes offers a rare opportunity for you, Alistair. I’m surprised you haven’t thought of it yourself. Your mind is too full of love, I suppose.”
Alistair grimaced, and Eira laughed.
Straightening in an effort to restore his dignity, Alistair asked, “What have I missed with regard to Agnes?”
“You’ve done a marvelous thing,” Bosque told him. “And the reward you shall reap is a terrible army like the world has never seen. An army fearsome for its strength and its absolute loyalty to you.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Alistair said, but his brow was furrowed in confusion.
“But now you have only six warriors to raise for this purpose,” Bosque said. “How do you propose to increase their ranks?”
Alistair opened and closed his mouth, but could give no answer.
Bosque smiled at Eira. “As I said, his mind is too full of love.”
Eira nodded, but asked, “I confess I do not see how Agnes fits into his vision.”
“Submission, duty, and loyalty are qualities not only of warriors that serve their king,” Bosque said, answering Alistair rather than Eira. “Such traits are even stronger within families.”
“Families,” Alistair repeated.
“Witness Lady Morrow herself,” Bosque told him. “She risked her life to return to her sister, to protect her… and to be with you, of course.”
One corner of Bosque’s mouth turned up, and Eira wondered if Bosque was mocking Alistair.
When Alistair still didn’t speak, Bosque began to show frustration. “Agnes is with child. A child that will be devoted to its mother and to those to whom its mother submits.”
Alistair’s eyes suddenly went wide.
“Yes.” A slow smile spread across Bosque’s mouth. “I want you to continue your trials, Lord Hart… with Agnes.”
“But Ember—” Alistair shifted on his feet.
“If you worry that my counsel would anger your beloved,” Bosque said smoothly, “consider this: if Ember is to be your wife, she must serve you, obey you. How do you think she would respond to the miraculous work you’ve accomplished thus far?”
Alistair blanched, making it obvious to Eira that he’d kept his love for Ember strictly separate from his collaboration with Bosque.
“I agree,” Bosque told Alistair. “She may not understand the greatness of it, only because it will be strange to her. But if you make her sister a part of it, she will be forced to accept what you’ve done.”
“I will think on this, Lord Mar.” Alistair’s face had gone gray, but he bowed. “May I take my leave now?”
“Yes.”
When Alistair was gone, Eira asked, “Are you worried that Lord Hart will falter in his loyalty?”
Bosque shook his head. “If he harbors doubts, they will fade with the novelty of his love.”
“I hope you’re right,” Eira said. She stood up and stretched, weary from the long day.
“I am.”
“Soon you and Lord Hart must show me this marvel he’s created.” Eira began to unbraid her hair, thinking to seek her bed.
“Alistair will take you to the catacombs soon.” Bosque came close to Eira, and when he reached up to touch her loose copper waves, she became still. “He is wise to let the beasts know him alone, to trust him completely, before he introduces them to others.”
Eira didn’t answer. Bosque continued to stroke her hair.
“I should sleep.” Her voice hitched when she spoke, and she stepped away from him.
“Why do you shrink from me?” His voice was like silk.
“I—” Her heart was beating much too quickly, making her breathless. She looked away, gazing at the window but not focusing on anything.
Following her retreat, Bosque stood very near, but didn’t touch her. “Eira.”
Laying his fingers against her cheek, he turned her face to look at him. “I have not known desire for a woman before you called me forth from the nether. Now I find it consumes me. I can think of little else.”
Eira felt dizzy. She moved away from Bosque again, but her path led her to the side of her bed. She turned around and found herself facing him.
“Will you deny me?”
The doubts churning beneath Eira’s ribs finally surfaced. “I confess, Lord Mar, I find your words of passion difficult to believe. No man has ever spoken to me thus.”
“What man would have courage enough to believe he could win you?” Bosque laughed. “You exude power. Men are small creatures, easily cowed by those who challenge their sense of self-importance.”
He leaned closer, his breath touching her cheek. “Men fear you, but I promise they have also wanted you.”
She turned her face, and his lips met hers. Bosque pulled back, and Eira gasped when he took off his shirt.
“I haven’t assented to share my bed with you.” She put steel into her voice, but her gaze traveled over his broad shoulders, the strength of his chest and abdomen.
“And I haven’t forgotten that.” Bosque smiled at her. “But if you would consent to touch me, I would like to know the feeling of your hands on my skin.”
Eira’s fingers twitched, aching to trace the lines of muscle that covered his bare torso. She dared to rest her palm just below his collarbone. His skin was so warm under her fingers. Heat seemed to flow from the point of contact up her arm, spreading over her limbs.
“Lie with me, Eira,” Bosque murmured, holding her in his gaze. “Perfect our union. Make it complete.”
Slowly, waiting for her to object, Bosque reached for the front of her tabard. When she didn’t try to stop him, he pulled the long garment over her head. He leaned down, kissing the spot where her pulse beat rapidly at her throat.
Eira’s hand stole around Bosque’s neck, her fingertips brushing his soft hair.
“I spoke to Alistair of the loyalty inherent within families, sealed by shared blood,” Bosque whispered against her skin. “As long as a child born from the line of our union walks the earth, a gateway between this world and mine can be opened.”
“How can you be sure I’ll conceive?” Eira placed her palm on her stomach. She’d abandoned any thoughts of bearing a child years ago; the idea still struck her as absurd.
“There will be more at work here than passion,” Bosque said, lifting his head to look at her. “There is also the power that I bring. Consent to this union of body and blood, and you will bear my child.”
“No one has limitless power,” Eira told him. When his eyes narrowed, she worried she’d gone too far. “I meant no insult.”
“You are the only creature in this world or mine I would let speak to me thus,” Bosque told her with a thin smile. “Your words are true enough. My powers do have limits, but in the matter at hand, those limits are naught.” Regret, or perhaps sadness, crept into his eyes. “What I cannot do is grant you eternal life.”
Taken aback, Eira said, “I never wanted immortality.”
“Then you are unlike most men and women,” Bosque told her. “When wizards and conjurers call upon the least of my creatures, immortality is often the first thing they demand.”
He folded her hand in his strong grasp. “I can give you threefold years beyond other men, and in these years, you will not age. You will remain as you are now. Strong.”
Moving his grip to her wrists, he pulled her closer. “Beautiful.” His lips nearly touched hers.
Eira asked with hesitation, “If I will not age, why must I bear this child now?”
“I would give you leave to wait as long as you like,” Bosque told her. “Were it not for the risk of losing you.”
“You think I will try to sever our bond?” Eira couldn’t imagine want
ing to rid herself of Bosque. She craved his presence, felt lost when he was absent. She wouldn’t name their bond one of love, but it was nonetheless powerful, irresistible even.
Bosque released one of her wrists and traced the line of her collarbone. “You are loyal, Eira. And we desire the same things. I do not fear your leaving. I know you would not abandon me, just as I would never forsake you.”
“Then what do you fear?” Eira asked, trying not to be distracted by the light touch of his fingers on her skin.
“You are and always will be a warrior,” Bosque answered. “And there are many battles to come. Though I can offer you powerful allies, helping to secure your victories, when my queen goes to war, she may lose her life.”
Eira nodded. Bosque’s words won him yet more of her admiration. Despite his hopes for her, he didn’t suggest she stay hidden away in a keep, safely distant from any bloodshed. He wouldn’t deny her true nature, her hunger for the fight.
As she fell silent, Bosque bent closer. His lips followed the path of his fingertips. The touch of his mouth on her skin stirred a new hunger in Eira, one she’d never expected to feel. Bosque trailed his lips over her throat and up her neck. His tongue flicked her cheek, and his teeth closed lightly on her earlobe.
“Tell me, Eira.” Bosque repositioned himself, placing an arm on either side of her, trapping her against him. “What is it you want from me?”
Adrift in a sea of sensation—the sound of her quick breaths, the rising heat of her skin—Eira knew too well what her body craved, but her mind balked. She turned her face from him, trying to steady herself.
“Your touch is that of a man.” Eira forced the words out. “But—”
Bosque finished for her. “You fear what I truly am.”
Eira met his gaze. “I do… Should I?”
“I don’t know,” Bosque said, his expression thoughtful. “I can’t predict what your reaction would be to the form I take in my own world.”
He glanced down at his bare chest. “But it would not likely appeal to you as this body does.”
Eira felt blood rush to her cheeks as she faced the truth of his words. Was her desire so plain, the ache within her so easy for him to detect?
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