“Merius, don’t pick at him. He’s been most gracious, considering his usual manner in company,” Eden said. Her voice was a husky alto, which I imagined she used to good effect on men. No wonder Dagmar had been so critical--this woman would make many jealous wives. She even had amber eyes, mesmerizing as any predator’s gaze. I found myself drawing closer to Merius, protecting him. Her eyes met mine, and she arched her brows and smiled slightly, as if she knew what I was thinking.
“Good evening, Safire. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Eden, Merius’s distant cousin.”
“I know. Merius has spoken of you.”
“He has?” She smiled again, amused. “Nothing good, I’m certain.”
“He said you spend your time ministering to starving orphans, praying with consumptive nuns, and mending poverty-stricken monks‘ undergarments.” I was so uncomfortable that I said the first thing that came to my tongue, my mind disengaged with shock at the idea that my father-in-law and this woman were secret lovers.
After a moment of stunned silence, Merius guffawed, and then Eden followed with a throaty laugh, her aura sparking again. “That’s not fair. You’ve told her all my secrets, Merius, and I know none of hers, save that she’s a wit.”
“I’ll become a wit with a whip, if you don’t take your seats,” Mordric grumbled. “The roast will be burned at this rate.”
I trailed Merius to my seat at the table, my mind in a tumult. Merius looked at me as he pulled my chair out. *What is it, sweet? Your thoughts are suddenly all a jumble.
*Just tired. All these people, all these auras--it’s a lot to take in.
He nodded and claimed his place beside me, soon engaged in a conversation with Cyril, who sat on his other side. I ate and drank, barely tasting anything, glad everyone else was preoccupied with food for the moment and not saying anything clever to me that I would have to respond to. Their silence gave me the chance to retreat into myself and consider what I had seen and what it meant. It was only later, when the musicians began to play and Merius pulled me into a lively dance that I came back to myself.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Merius’s hands gripped mine as we turned ever faster, the room whirling around us in a blur of color and sound. The air rushed in my ears, the violins and drums and flutes at a fever pitch, and I screwed shut my eyes.
“I’m falling!” I screeched, certain for a terrifying, wonderful instant that the ground would drop away and I would be left whirling in mid-air.
Merius laughed, then grabbed me to him. “That better?” he panted as we swayed in time to the music.
I gave a breathless chortle and rested my forehead against his solid shoulder, the hall gradually stopping its mad revolution around us. I saw other couples still dancing, a lively, foot-stomping dance that lent itself well to making up steps, one of Merius’s favorite things to do. He particularly seemed to enjoy moves that left me gasping for breath and dizzy as a drunken goose.
“And you love it.” He grinned, hearing my thought. “You want something to drink?”
I nodded, and we navigated through the kaleidoscopic maze of dancers till we found the edge of the hall where there stood a row of wine and ale casks. As I waited for the manservant to pour me a goblet of wine, the world constricted and darkened for an instant, and suddenly I felt back in the middle of the floor, whirling out of control. The knot at the top of my laces dug into my right side like a stitch, and I gasped.
“Safire?” Merius gripped my arm. “Are you all right?”
His face came back into focus, his features slowly resolving themselves from the dizzy blur around us.
“I’m fine,” I managed. “I think I need to loosen my laces.”
“Here, let me help you.”
“That’s all right.” I shrugged off his hand and started toward the door. “Dagmar went upstairs to give Flavian his midnight feeding. She’ll help me.” *With the mood we’re both in, if you help me loosen my laces, it won’t end there, and I still want to dance some more tonight.
His furrowed expression sharpened to another grin. He drained his ale and set the tankard down with a clank as I made my way for the door. The last glimpse I had of him before I went through the archway leading to the rest of the house was him approaching one of the younger Casian girls, a quiet sixteen year old named Beanca with pretty nut-brown hair. She visibly blushed when he kissed her hand and led her to the dance.
Loath as I was to see him dance with someone else, particularly someone younger than me and just as pretty, I was relieved that he would be distracted from trying to read my thoughts for the moment. Besides, if he had to dance with someone else, Beanca was a good choice. A sweet girl, she was pretty enough to be much better at flirting than she was. Likely she would grow out of her shyness--I had been shy around men at sixteen, and I had certainly grown out of it. Now Eden--I imagined she had never been shy around men. That husky laugh, those amber cat eyes, that suggestive wit. She had husband temptress stamped all over her. Of course, Mordric was no one’s husband, hadn’t been for awhile, unless I counted those years Arilea’s ghost had plagued him.
Mordric and Eden couldn‘t have been lovers for long. Not only had he been in Sarneth for the last several months, Arilea’s ghost had kept him from seriously considering other women before then. And he had to be seriously considering Eden, since the potential scandal of their relationship would be enough to stop him if it were a mere flirtation. How would Merius feel, if he knew? I shook my head--I had no idea. I should have some idea. He was my husband, the only man I’d ever been in love with, and we shared a mind bond. How could I not predict how he would feel? Probably because I didn’t even know how I felt. I was still in shock, my mind frantically pawing over the few facts I knew. I wished I could talk to someone about it, but the two people I usually confided in--Merius and Dagmar--were in the thick of it with me. Best to forget I’d ever sensed the connection between Mordric and Eden. After the misery of his marriage to Arilea, Mordric deserved happiness where he could find it, and I was in no place to judge his choice.
I was almost to the back stairway when I smelled it. The faint scent of ambergris, an earthy sweetness like dry rot on old wood. I paused, bemused, uneasiness gnawing my insides. When had I last smelled ambergris? It seemed like a long time ago . . . my brain, slow from too much talk and wine and dancing, finally caught up with the rest of me, all my instincts telling me to get out of here before Peregrine . . .
A hand shot out of the darkness and gripped my arm. “I saw your sister come this way and thought you wouldn’t be long to follow,” whispered Peregrine. I knew that deep silky tone, like a snake’s hiss.
I opened my mouth to scream, then swallowed. If I screamed, those assassins would make short work of Peregrine, and while I couldn’t stand the swine, I didn’t want to see him dead. Nor would Mordric appreciate the hassle of trying to explain a prominent merchant’s mysterious demise in Landers Hall, particularly when the reason the assassins guarded us--my witch talents--could get me burned at the stake. Probably Merius too as my warlock accomplice.
Pleased with my new ability to think before I screamed, I said coolly, “I thought you left after the feast, Sir Bara.”
“Is that all you have to say to me, false jade?” He moved out of the doorway where he’d concealed himself. His eyes gleamed down at me--I had forgotten he was so tall, as tall as Merius. I wondered how I was going to get loose without making a scene and summoning Merius or the assassins, either of which promised disaster.
“I was never yours, so I don’t see how you dare call me false,” I spat. “I would have thought you’d long since found another woman to torment.”
“You think me so inconstant?” His teeth flashed in a wolfish smile. “Sweet, I pursued you for three years.”
“Because of your own folly. Give it up, Peregrine. I‘m a married woman, for God’s sake.”
“But you’re not married to me, and that’s what I want.”
“
You‘re making an ass out of yourself.” I twisted in his grip. “God, I hate you.”
“Hate--such a strong emotion for a man not your husband. Haven’t you ever wondered about that, why you hate me so much?”
“No.” I glared up at him, our eyes locking. Everything went dim like it had earlier during the dance, and I found myself unable to look away. My head spun. I swallowed over the suddenly dry lump in my throat and worried I would faint. That really would be disastrous. What was wrong with me? My laces were tight, but hardly tight enough to make me collapse in a dead faint. The ambergris was suddenly everywhere, overwhelming me. The choking scent snaked into my nostrils, down my throat, burning my lungs, and I shut my eyes and shook my head. It was him--that was what made me so faint. He would steal all my air with his presence until he smothered me, the brute. I gasped for air, my eyes flying open. He still stared down at me.
*How could she marry that whoreson Merius?
I opened my mouth to speak, to curse at him, then realized that his lips hadn’t moved. I was hearing his thoughts. I gaped at him, sagged against his hand as I listened to the rapid escalation inside his mind.
*She should have been mine, my sweet fey wench with the scent of cedar smoke always in her hair and her ivory skin. She’ll be mine yet, just wait. My patience is lethal. Right time'll come to use the Ursula’s Bane. Once she's had a whiff of that--keep her out for hours, plenty of time to hide her away . . . of course, need to be certain of the effects. Can’t always trust what those greasy SerVerinese traders say. The last thing I want to do is harm her. Look at her, ready to spit at me like some half-starved wild cat. If she only knew what I could give her, do for her . . .
I realized his intent the instant before his mouth bore down on mine. Despite me shaking my head violently, he still captured my lips under his, the ambergris of his aura burning the blood in my veins.
Oh God, oh God. I instinctively shut my eyes against the images flooding my mind, as if that would help. All shutting my eyes did was make the images even more vivid. All the things he wanted to do to me, years of fantasies fed by thwarted lust and a sick imagination. An undeniable heat rose in my loins in response to his disgusting thoughts. Some wicked, hitherto unrealized part of me apparently wanted him to do those things. And now I was the wife of his arch rival, a prize to be won at any cost. I felt dinner roiling in my stomach, threatening to come up my throat. I wondered vaguely if I was going to be ill. I gagged, and he finally loosened his grip just a little, enough to release me from his dark kiss.
“See what you’ve been missing, pet?” he murmured.
“Let me go, damn you,” I gasped, fisting my hand. “Merius! Merius!” I heard myself yell, my voice hoarse, the ambergris still burning my lungs, my throat. I punched Peregrine as hard as I could, my ridiculous struggles ending with him laughing and pinning both my arms behind me in the vise of his grip.
Then I saw them, vague shapes as indistinct as ghosts floating silently from shadow to shadow in the hall. I squinted my eyes. Two of them--likely the other guarded Merius, still in the banquet hall. A shaking started inside, a tremble that only worsened the more I tried to stop it.
"What the hell?" Peregrine muttered. *Who are they? Didn't know the Landers had bodyguards he thought.
“I suggest you let me go, if you know what’s good for you,” I said, my voice uneven.
“You should heed her, Peregrine,” Mordric said, startling both of us. We had been staring in the direction of the assassins while Mordric had apparently come down the staircase at the opposite end of the hall and approached us, as quiet on his feet as any assassin. He drew his sword with a metallic hiss.
“Sir,” Peregrine started, then stopped when Mordric lightly rested the blade of the sword on his wrist.
“Leave now, lest you find your hand on the floor beside your boots. You never come here again, understand?”
*Damn him, damn him and his meddling. One of these days, I’ll challenge the graybeard, and he’ll eat his words and his blade. Peregrine’s thought held a distinct whiff of petulance, and I bit back a hysterical giggle. Slowly, Peregrine let go of my arm and stepped back, his eyes shifting from Mordric to the other end of the hall where the assassins had been. They had melted back into the shadows, but we all knew they were there, which was likely why Peregrine went without a fight.
“Wait here,” Mordric said to me. He jammed the point of his sword in Peregrine’s back, pushing him toward the back entrance. His command was hardly necessary as I found myself unable to move. My eyes darted from this shadow to that, wondering which ones hid our protectors. Protectors and captors--the assassins had orders from King Rainier to seize me and Merius and bring us back to Sarneth if they deemed we were in life-threatening danger. I didn’t want to burn at the stake but I also didn’t want to be locked away as some king’s pet witch. I drew a deep breath, inhaling fresh air in my lungs to chase away the last lingering hint of ambergris. Damn Peregrine--how dare he accost me, force me to hear his wretched thoughts? How had I heard his wretched thoughts? Merius was the only one I was supposed to be able to hear. Merius and I had a mind bond. Peregrine and I certainly didn’t have a mind bond. I hated the swine. The last thing I wanted was him in my head.
“Are you all right?” Mordric suddenly asked, his hand curling around my elbow.
I gasped. “Oh, you startled me. How do you manage to be so quiet?”
“How do you manage to get into so much trouble?” he retorted.
“I don’t know, sir. Thank you for rescuing me.” I gave him what I hoped was my most appealing look. “How did you get here so fast?”
“Little witch,” he muttered. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you all evening. I worried that Whitten would hear about the feast and figure the distraction of the crowd would be a good time to cause some mischief. What did Peregrine want?”
I grimaced. “Me. Do you know I could hear his thoughts? Just when he was touching me, but . . .”
“Hear his thoughts?” Mordric’s brow furrowed slightly. “You mean like you hear Merius’s?”
“Sort of, except I don’t think Peregrine could hear me. I could just hear him . . .”
“Did he know you could read his thoughts?”
“I don’t think so.” I swallowed. “He was thinking about Ursula’s Bane, how he wants to use it on . . . on me.”
Mordric’s hand tightened on my elbow. “That blackguard. I bet he paid a pretty copper for that--a drop of that stuff is akin to buying liquid diamonds. You need to watch yourself better.” He shook my arm to emphasize his point. I knew what he meant--if the assassins had been forced to kill Peregrine, they likely would have seized me and Merius and carried us off to Sarneth.
“Yes, sir.”
Mordric’s gaze ran over me, a speculative gleam suddenly lighting his eyes. “So you can hear Peregrine’s thoughts when he touches you?”
I nodded. “I don’t understand it--it’s never happened before.”
“Likely some effect of the mind bond with Merius,” he said. “The point is, do you think you could do it again? At a court ball, perhaps?”
I suppressed a smile, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate my amusement at such a moment. There he went, spinning a plot the way a spinning wheel made yarn from wool. He couldn’t help himself, no more than Merius could help scribbling all over his council notes. “I think so."
“Now listen, I need to learn more about Peregrine’s plotting with Emperor Tetwar. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s where he got the Ursula’s Bane. I don’t want you risking your silly neck, so when you talk to him, you do it in a crowded place. A ball would be ideal--you could dance with him and casually mention the SerVerin Empire, ask him what it’s like. That will naturally lead his thoughts to Tetwar . . .”
“But Merius always goes to the balls with me--he’ll never let me dance with Peregrine.”
“Leave that to me.” Mordric offered a grim smile. “I’ll give him so much work in the evenings he’ll ha
ve to let you go on your own sometimes.”
“But . . .”
“I said leave it to me.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“What do you think of Eden?” I asked Merius later, when we were alone in his old chamber and preparing for bed.
“I don’t trust her,” he grunted, pulling off his boots and tossing them in the general direction of the wardrobe. I had long since stopped straightening his boots, considering my energy better conserved for other uses. “She eavesdrops.” He yawned before he heaved himself to his feet and tramped over the washstand. “It’s been a long day--I’ll be glad to hunt tomorrow.” He plunged his face in the basin before he found the washcloth and soap. He rubbed the soap over his skin and made some suds before he plunged his face into the basin again.
“She eavesdrops?” I prompted.
“Father uses her at court all the time for spying. Anyway, the point is, I don’t trust her,” he finished, his voice muffled as he toweled his face.
“I know, but what do you think of her?”
“Why the sudden interest in Eden, love?” he asked as he turned from the washstand, unbuckling his belt.
“Here.” I went over to him and helped him with his buckles, buttons, and shirt laces, knowing he enjoyed the attention. “I’m just curious, Merius. She seemed clever and not afraid to show it. It’s not often I meet another woman I could hold an interesting conversation with.”
“She is clever--I’ll grant that. She’s loyal to the Landers, as long as it suits her. She could be a friend to you, perhaps, though I’d rather you not have much to do with her. I don’t trust her.”
“You keep saying that, but why?”
“She has loose morals . . .”
“Meaning she doesn’t keep a virtuous bed,” I finished for him. “That could be said about half the men I know. That could have been said about us, before we wed.”
He smiled, tolerant. “I think sometimes you live to argue.”
“So argue back.” I curled my hands into fists on his chest. “Tell me why you don’t trust her. I want to hear what you have to say.”
Phoenix Ashes (The Landers Saga Book 3) Page 5