by Shea Godfrey
“Just give it to me.”
“Then close your eyes.”
Emmalyn growled and closed her eyes, though but a moment later she heard the hinges of the door and looked. “Where are you going?”
Darry turned on her. “You’re bloody well impossible, Em. I left it in the hall, is that all right with you? Close your eyes!”
“Is it very big then?” she asked, smiling.
Darry stared at her.
Emmalyn closed her eyes. “Is it big?”
“Not too big,” Darry answered. “But the box is very pretty. If you look before I say you can I’ll take it back, I swear to Gamar.”
“Fine,” Emmalyn said. “I promise.”
Darry proceeded into the hallway and pulled the door closed.
Lord Royce Greyson stepped away from the wall, a smile spreading like sunlight across his handsome face. He was six feet tall and his shoulders were strong beneath his dusty black jacket and tunic, his unshaven face dark with stubble. Royce straightened his jacket and sword. Darry liked the way his clothes fit his well-built frame. They were a bit dusty from their ride on the furious road south, but he was a handsome sight nonetheless. And I’m not in love with you, my friend.
Darry chuckled at his boyish smile. “I don’t suppose you brought her anything, did you?”
Royce frowned.
Darry took his hand and pressed a small brightly wrapped box into his palm. “Men,” she said. “Put it in your pocket,” she ordered, and he did so. “And people wonder why I seek my pleasures elsewhere.”
Royce’s eyes lit up and he planted a kiss on her cheek. “I shall pay you back.”
“Darry?” Emmalyn called. “What in the seven hells are you doing?”
“Keep your eyes closed, woman!” Darry yelled over her shoulder. She unbent his collar, patting some of the dust away, then licked her thumb and smoothed down the twist of curling hair above his left ear. “I’m fixing the paper!” she called. Darry met his gaze. “They are combs for her hair, in case you’re wondering. And you’re damn right you’ll pay me back. They’re from Master Fina’s.”
“You’ll make me a fine sister, Darrius. Like the one I always dreamt of but never had. Thank you.”
Darry flushed at the words and took him by the shoulder. “Wyatt has some rather smashing clothes that will fit you for the fête. I’ve set them on his bed. And please, Royce, remember that though you’re betrothed, if our mother finds you in her daughter’s rooms in the middle of the day, you shall be running for the Green Hills with the entire guard intent upon your ass.”
“Darry?” Emmalyn called.
“Are they closed?” Darry asked as she pushed the door inward, Royce crowding her from behind. She elbowed him in the stomach and he retreated.
“They’re bloody well sewn shut.”
Darry opened the door completely and pulled at Royce’s jacket, sending him forward. The expression on his face when he saw Emmalyn made Darry’s heart skip, not only in happiness but with envy. He stood very still as he took in the sight of the woman he loved, and after a few seconds Darry shoved him again.
Emmalyn’s head tipped to the side. “Is that you?”
“All right, Em,” Darry said. “You may open them.”
Emmalyn obeyed instantly, her gaze catching on Darry for but an instant before her shoulders jerked at another person standing so close.
Royce touched her face as their eyes met. “Look at your hair,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful, Emma.”
Emmalyn shook her head in shock, then threw her arms about his neck. “Royce!” Her hands slid through his hair as his lips lowered onto hers.
Darry smiled in satisfaction as he pulled Emmalyn close. She turned away and picked up her packages.
Emmalyn’s hands moved down his chest as they kissed. She slipped them about his waist and then his hips. “Wait, Emma,” he mumbled against her mouth. His hands went to her face and he kissed her again, ignoring his own plea.
Emmalyn pulled back. “Not the hair, love.”
“All right,” he whispered as his hands dropped to her shoulders. “Darry said,” he tried to speak and then kissed her again. “Your…mother would…”
Emmalyn gave a start. “Darry,” she said. I said it was a sort of Solstice gift. Darry was gone and the chamber door closed tight against any intrusions. “Darry,” she said again.
“You can’t keep touching me there,” Royce said quietly, “and expect me not to mess up your hair.”
Emmalyn laughed. With slow and deliberate purpose she drew her right hand around, stopping at his belt buckle, then inched lower to touch him elsewhere. A lovely tremble tripped along her spine when his body reacted. His fingers caressed her mouth as his eyes darkened with want.
“May I touch your hair now?”
The need within his voice made her knees weak. “Yes,” she answered, moaning as his lips covered hers once more.
*
Darry stood upon the balustrade and considered Jessa’s door.
She had been gone only a short time, yet she had waited for this moment since her first night on the road. Sitting beside her small fire and enjoying the night air, she had looked back to the south and wondered what Jessa’s day had been like. She had wondered what color her sari had been and if her hair had held more braids or less. Their number seemed to change each day and counting them had become a lovely pastime that Darry indulged in as often as possible. She had missed making Jessa laugh, or at least trying to. Jessa’s delicate humor made her feel special, somehow, that such a beautiful woman had been charmed by her, if only a little.
She had realized as well that she liked very much how quiet Jessa was. Life was never quiet for Darry, and she had not known how much she would enjoy such a thing.
Of her many thoughts while she was away, those of Jessa had been uppermost. It pleasantly surprised her how much she now welcomed Jessa’s presence in her daily life.
Just to be next to her made Darry happy, and Jessa’s scent of jasmine haunted her in a pleasing manner throughout her days. She was not immune to Jessa’s beauty either, but she supposed that could not be helped. The way her sari curved to her breasts and draped about her hips enthralled Darry. I’m only human…and I’ve done nothing untoward. Anyone with a bloody heart that beats would notice how sweet her body is.
She kicked the dust from her boots, feeling trapped as she tried to put her attraction aside. I’ve not forgotten why she’s here or who she is. But we can be friends, just as we pledged. There’s no harm in that, even though I find her… Darry let out a long breath. Find her what?
“Bloody well fucking lovely,” she whispered. But just friends. Somewhere deep in her heart she knew it was true, despite her thinking of Jessa in ways that she should not. They were friends, and it had been some time since she made a new friend. Remembering that innocent pledge once again, she stepped forward.
Radha opened the door to her knock.
“Lady Radha.” Darry gave a slight bow of her head. “You’re looking well on this fine day.”
“And you are looking road-worn, Princess.”
Darry chuckled. “Yes, but that’s because I wore out the road.”
Radha laughed.
“I was wondering…” Darry faltered. She shifted the packages in her arms. “I mean, would it be all right if I spoke with your Lady for a few moments? I know she must be busy preparing for the fête, but I would just like to pay my respects. If that’s all right?”
“Would you stand in wait?”
“Of course,” Darry answered with a grin. “I would wait forever if needs be.”
Radha studied her closely and Darry stared back, wondering suddenly if she had said something wrong. The old woman moved and Darry let out a nervous breath as she disappeared into the chamber.
Radha pushed open the door to the expansive privy. Jessa stood with a towel about her legs as she dried her body from the bath. “You have a visitor.”
“Unles
s it is the Queen, Radha, I don’t want to see anyone before I have to. Please send them away.”
“As you wish,” Radha answered.
Darry pushed the packages more tightly beneath her left arm. Maybe she won’t want to see me. Maybe you should’ve just—she straightened as Radha approached. “She will see me?”
“No. She’s very nervous about this evening.”
“Why? Did someone say…” Darry realized her tone was too forceful and she stepped back. “My pardons, Lady, I didn’t mean to…” She let out a breath of frustration. “I mean, has someone made her feel, did my brother—”
“She is afraid they will make her sing.”
Darry considered Radha’s answer, imagining herself standing in the Jade Palace and singing before its entire court of strangers, of being judged so openly and made to perform for the pleasure of others. And though Jessa was known as the Nightshade Lark for the beauty of her voice, no doubt it was not as pleasant as some might think to be on display in such a manner. Standing before the future King of Arravan, caught beneath his appraising eyes as the whole world watched, could be demeaning.
“She’ll not have to sing, my Lady,” Darry said with confidence. “You have my word.”
“And how will you stop such a thing if the court desires it?”
“I shall think of something.”
“No doubt,” Radha said. “Off you go then, child, to wash the road from you, I should think. Before your mother sees you thus.”
Darry bowed her head and stepped back. “Lady Radha.”
Jessa walked from the privy, tying her robe as Radha closed the door. “Who was at the door?”
“It was not the Queen, so what care do you have?”
“One day you shall be dying and ask for help in one of your riddles, and no one shall lift a finger to save you for want of knowing what you really need,” she said sarcastically.
Radha laughed, picking up the dress. “She was not a queen, it is settled.”
“Yes, thank you old woman, for telling me what I’ve…” She raised her eyes slowly. “For telling me—Shivahsa!” Jessa cursed, rushing to the balustrade door and throwing it open. The door crashed against the chair beside it as Jessa stepped over the threshold.
Darry turned at the disturbance and smiled as Jessa slid in a rush onto the terrace in her bare feet and robe.
“Jessa,” Darry said as her eyes followed the fall of dark hair to where Jessa’s robe fell open between her breasts. The garment was tied loosely about her waist. Darry raised her eyes quickly at the stirring within her, her attention caught yet again by the silken fall of Jessa’s hair. At least a dozen—
“Where have you been?” Jessa’s hands played with the tie of her robe. “Are you all right?” She took hold of Darry’s right hand and caressed the fading cut on her palm, the slight wound but a pink line of irritation.
“All is well,” Darry said, suddenly very content as Jessa’s touch warmed her blood. “I wanted to see you.”
“Yes.” Jessa smiled as Darry’s fingers curled about her own. “Yes, you as well.”
“I know you’re getting ready, but I’ll—”
“Where have you been?”
“I rode north to bring a friend home for the fête tonight, and for the Solstice celebrations to come.”
“A friend?” Jessa asked. “An escort?”
“No,” Darry answered, curious as to the spark within Jessa’s eyes. “Emmalyn’s betrothed, Royce Greyson. He was stationed in Marban. His family holds lands along the Lanark River and he was detained by orders from the Commander there to make maps, but our Longshanks is of a higher rank.”
“I hadn’t known Emmalyn was to be married.”
“They wait to make the announcement until after Jacob and Alisha’s ceremony. Emmalyn has no wish to steal from Alisha’s joy. You will keep their secret?”
“Of course,” Jessa said.
“She doesn’t want the fanfare again either, I suppose.”
“Again?”
“Again?” Darry asked, smiling.
Jessa laughed softly. “You said ‘again.’”
“Ah, yes.” Darry tried to keep her mind from drifting. Jessa had fewer braids than she had first thought, and she paused to collect her words. “Emmalyn is a widow.” She stepped closer, smelling the scent of jasmine and finding it most pleasant and yet more subtle than she remembered. “Her first husband was killed when he fell from a horse. It was a terrible accident that took him soon after they were wed. They were married during the summer festivities, like the ones that fast approach. It can be a sad time for her.”
“So you sent for him.”
Darry shifted her parcels, looking sheepish. “Well, sort of. It’s not really my place, but I had something that Longshanks wanted badly enough in exchange for his help in bringing Royce home. A horse named Dragon.”
Jessa stared at her for several heartbeats, then laughed with pleasure. “You traded your horse so your sister could be with her beloved?”
Darry looked at the stones between them, enjoying the sight of Jessa’s toes. She shrugged. “He is named so for a reason. He’s a most ornery animal and his breath is very hot before he tries to bite you.”
“A good bargain then,” Jessa said softly, liking the way Darry looked when she was uncertain. Her brow would come down and a shyness would steal into her posture, so much strength and force of will made almost quiet.
“Yes.” Darry shifted her packages once again and stepped back. “Your hair is so very beautiful, Jessa.” Then she murmured, “Bloody hell,” as if her words had leapt forth before she could think better of it.
Jessa lifted her hand to her braids, thanking the gods for them since Darry admired them. “Thank you.”
“I should let you finish getting ready.”
“Yes, I suppose…and you as well? Your hair?”
“Bentley shall have to help me with it.”
“Lord Greeves?”
“For certain. He likes to, actually, though don’t tell him I told you. He wouldn’t speak to me again, I think, should that secret get out.”
Jessa tried not to laugh. “I will say nothing.”
Darry backed up another step. “I thought of you while I was away…and I missed seeing your face. It is nice to have a new friend.”
“Yes,” Jessa said. I missed your face as well, Darry. I missed…I missed so many things about you.
“Do not be nervous tonight, with so many people. It’s only a party, yes?”
“I know. I shall try not to be. I will look for you.”
“Then I shall look forward to being seen,” Darry said. “Princess,” she bid, and bowed her head.
Darry turned and walked away. Jessa gazed across her strong shoulders and down the center of Darry’s back, then drifted lower still. A hard wave of pleasure turned within her stomach and bled downward, lighting within her thighs. She swallowed awkwardly and let out a rough breath. The way you walk, Princess. Like the panther you are named for.
“Will you stand for all the world to see?” Radha said from the door as Jessa jumped in surprise. “Without your veil? In your robe and naked toes?”
Jessa laughed, hurrying back into the room and hugging her. Radha slapped at her arms and Jessa kissed her cheek. “Finish my dress!” she said, though she had no anger in her voice.
Radha pushed from the embrace with a flutter of shawls and black fabric. “Next time ask who it might be that is knocking at your door.”
Jessa shut the door and flopped onto her back. You make me feel so alive, Darry. She smiled slowly, feeling the heat on her cheeks. She tipped her face away from the room, not trusting her feelings to Radha. I am awake now.
Her blood moved with excitement and her thoughts raced, tumbling this way and that. Her skin tingled with expectation, her hands still wanting to touch Darry just a little, just a bit. When she did so, Jessa could feel Darry’s strength, could feel it invade her own body and her flesh react, becoming st
ronger in return, becoming more of what it should be.
She felt like a woman in Darry’s presence. A woman. Not a piece of chattel to be wagered like coins on a table. She felt her body like never before, and each movement she made had a purpose somehow, as if she were meeting a need she had never known was there.
She had no idea what Darry would say next, none at all. And she would respond without her normal care, which was wonderful. It was so astonishing to speak her mind without censure or caution. Anything she said would be acceptable, somehow. No matter what passed her lips, Darry could be trusted with it.
And the way your eyes fill with warmth. You always look so pleased by what you find, even though it’s only me. And I like it when your tongue is nervous for want of the right word, Darry. I like it so very much.
Chapter Eight
Cecilia surveyed the great hall of Blackstone Keep and considered the evening to come with a strict eye for details.
The hall was filled to capacity. The entire Court of Arravan had turned out for the formal fête to welcome the Lyonese Prince and the woman who might marry the heir to Arravan’s throne. The doors to the two minor halls that bordered the vast chamber had been thrown open to allow for their numbers, and the white stone solar as well. The gardens beyond were lit with hanging lamps to ward off the darkness.
The dais at the north end of the room was occupied by a troupe of Greymear musicians, lute players and more than one bodhran, the largest of the skin drums standing as tall as the man who wielded the batons. Arravan flutes and fiddles of varying sizes were evident, and a hurdy-gurdy as well, the instrument known mostly within the walled city of Sha-Kiram on display and ready to produce its unique sound.
Along the north and east walls, long tables stood end to end, their surfaces covered with platters and bowls of food, everything from spiced meat delicacies to colorful displays of sliced fruits and sweet breads.
The massive tapestries that hung upon the walls had been cleaned and brushed, depicting everything from the Durand family tree to the battle of the Ishlere Plains. Ornate poles extended from the balcony, the platform bracing the chamber upon its southern end. Flags hung down and swayed gently, the Lewellyn crest of Cecelia’s family and the Durand shield bold and colorful as they flanked the silver, black, and blue banner of Arravan.