by Renee Wildes
It proved a fast-paced combination of galloping and bounding with a great deal of Loren whirling her about the room. Dara was laughing and breathless by the time the song ended. “That’s more like it.”
Sirona told Verdeen to start up an arelle. “Lorelei is very fond of an arelle. This you must do, and it is easiest of all. Just follow Loren.”
Dara watched Sirona and Falak with awe and a little envy. They were so in tune with each other, and so much in love they moved as one. After a moment or two, Loren took her into his arms and they began the dance, as well. Dara stopped trying to count, relaxed and just followed Loren’s lead. It was a great deal easier then.
He pulled her closer, to an intimate distance surely less than was publicly proper. She blushed as his thighs brushed hers, as his body crowded hers. Pulling her forward, pushing her back, twirling her in a tangle of cloth and limbs. Lord and Lady, the yielding of her own body felt entirely too symbolic, like making love on the dance floor. In front of everyone.
“You move well together.” Sirona smiled. “You shall be the envy of the ball.”
“We’ll be a topic of conversation. Intruding mortal corrupting an innocent prince and dragging him off on a dangerous quest.”
Loren’s arm tightened, drawing her even closer. “I would not have it any other way,” he whispered.
Dara’s cheeks heated and she glanced over to meet Falak’s amused gaze.
“I fear we have other duties at the House of Healing. Brannan expects us. You shall do just fine, Lady Dara.” Falak kissed Sirona’s hand, his lips lingering. “Later, love?”
“Out,” Sirona ordered. “Afore I melt into the floor.”
“My ego thanks you.”
“Your ego needs no encouragement, sir. Now get.”
Falak laughed. “Aye, ma’am.”
Loren kissed Dara on her forehead, but ’twas like a brand on her heart. She watched as he and Falak left. Emptiness nagged again. Next time she saw him, she’d ask him about that.
Dara had never envisioned such a place as the royal spa. She flinched when the attendants undressed her, but no one commented on the slave brand. The attendants scrubbed them head to toe with sand-textured citrus foam that left Dara’s skin glowing and tingling. Her hair was twisted up out of the way and she was led into a pool of warm, milky fluid. Sirona and Verdeen were waiting for her there. The—water?—smelled somewhere betwixt flower and fruit, and Dara found it very soothing. She leaned her head against the headrest until a light chime and the attendant’s voice stirred her. She rose from the pool. Two attendants worked on her hands and feet, removing calluses from her softened skin. They led her to a padded table for a hot oil massage with the scented oil Lorelei had introduced her to. Lastly her hair was brushed with the same scented oil.
For the first time, she felt like a lady, a pampered princess. She wondered what it would be like to have this to look forward to, every day of her life. Then she envisioned herself getting wrinkled and old, Loren’s once-loving gaze turning from attraction to revulsion, to pity. She shuddered. Don’t be a fool. This is only temporary, a pretty dream.
Draped in fresh white linen, Dara followed Sirona and Verdeen back to her rooms. The few male servants and guards stared at her as she passed, and she shivered at the veiled heat in their eyes. What was wrong with them?
Grateful to escape, she yawned as she stepped through her doorway. “I’ve never felt so relaxed in my life.”
Sirona smiled. “Go rest. I shall see you at the party.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
“What are friends for?”
Friends. Were they? Was Sirona sincere, or merely polite for Loren’s sake? How Dara wished she had his gift of empathy. But she didn’t. She had naught extraordinary, not even clothes of her own. What would the evening hold in store for her? A common mortal asking for aid. Why should they help her? What did they care for the world beyond their perfect realm?
What if they said nay? What if they even forbid Loren to aid her? What would she do then?
She had to convince them. Whatever price they demanded in return, she’d pay.
Chapter Ten
Dara stared at the wisp Verdeen held. “That’s like no ball gown I’ve seen.”
“Precisely.”
Dara stared at the layers of gauzy material in many shades of yellow and gold, orange and red. “I’ll look like a campfire.”
“These shalt help,” an amused voice said from the doorway.
Dara turned to see Lorelei standing there with a velvet jewelry case in her hands. “Forgive me, madam.”
Lorelei waved away her apology. “Try the dress on.”
“Here, let me help you.” Verdeen dropped the material over Dara’s head, twisting and knotting the various scarves into an x-shaped bodice with two waistbands. There was a diamond-shaped opening over her navel, tying behind her back at her true waist, and a second banding at her hips from which multi-layered scarves hung, forming the skirt that fluttered to the floor. Long scarves hung down her back from the knots at her shoulders, leaving her arms bare. Her back was also bare but for her long hair.
Dara frowned in the mirror. Her skin still shimmered from the spa oils. “I’ll freeze.”
“It is a warm evening. Now, try these on.” Lorelei revealed a full set of fire opals.
She’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life. Dara reached out a shaking hand and pulled out a dangling earring that flared with flashes of red and green. Verdeen helped her put them on, then the matching bracelet, anklet and ring. Dara stared at the single remaining piece. It looked like a miniature fishing net. “What is that?”
“It drapes over thy head, like so.” Lorelei pinned it to Dara’s hair.
Dara shook her head at the weight.
Verdeen tucked a single flaming tiger lily into the bodice. “Perfect.”
Dara looked down at the slave brand. “Can’t we hide this?”
“Not tonight.” Lorelei shook her head. “It shalt bring thy quest into a more personal light. It is a battle scar, Dara, naught more.” She changed the subject. “I knew those stones wouldst be perfect, youngling. Thou dost them proud.”
“I’ll return them in perfect condition.”
“Return them? They art thine now, youngling.” Lorelei’s eyes twinkled at her. “I shalt see thee at the party.” She handed the empty case to Verdeen and left.
Dara looked at Verdeen. “I feel ridiculous.”
“You look wonderful. Just wait until Prince Loren sees you.”
The sun just kissed the horizon outside Dara’s windows when a knock sounded at the adjoining door. “Dara? Are you ready?” Loren called.
“’Course I’m not ready. Wait ’til you see what they’ve stuffed me into this time.”
Verdeen opened the door and curtsied. “Highness.”
Loren entered. “Keeping Lady Dara out of trouble, Verdeen?”
“With great difficulty.” Verdeen shut the door.
Dara sighed. “Oh, get up, Verdeen, afore you strain your back.”
Loren froze as he turned his attention to Dara. Heat flared in his eyes. “Verdeen, await us downstairs.”
Verdeen curtsied again and showed herself out, shutting the door.
Loren locked it.
Dara’s sucked in a startled breath. His gaze traveled down then up again…slowly. Possessively. Her body tingled at the frank desire on his face, and she rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “You’re staring again. Don’t blame me for this one, either.” His long silence unnerved her. “Well, say something.”
“I would, could I find words.” His voice was hoarse and sent a shiver down her spine. “Where is the rest of it?”
She rolled her eyes. “They carted it off to the stables for insect netting. This is all they left me. I look like a heathen idol, don’t I?”
“If you were, a thousand men would change their religion.” Catching the blasphemy, he made a sign of supplication to the Lady. “If you wanted our cau
se to be visible, you succeeded. Everyone shall wish to meet you. None shall even notice me.”
She snorted. “Doubtful. The wanderer returns, heroic, covered in glory and still unwed. All the mamas will throw their daughters at your feet.”
“You are the only one I want.” Loren reached out to stroke a hand down her glistening arm. Dara trembled and stepped closer. She loved the way his eyes darkened, the way her body tingled at the open appreciation and desire on his face. Her pulse pounded in her throat, and she swallowed nervously as she raised a hand to trace his lips with her fingertips. He captured her wrist in his hand, turning it to place a burning kiss against the sensitive skin there. She gasped in reaction, and his eyes ignited.
The blood shimmered in her veins. She’d give anything to have him look at her that way forever. “We should go—”
“In a moment.” He pulled her flush against him. “I would have you to myself…for a bit.”
The hard planes of his chest thrilled her, and she softened against him. He stroked a hand down the bare skin of her back, and she whimpered. “Careful, you’ll squash my flower.”
“I shall get you another one.” He nuzzled her hair aside to lip at her ear, flicking his tongue against her neck and nipping her shoulder. “I need to hold you…touch you…taste you.” His mouth captured hers, his tongue surging in to duel with hers.
Dara’s head spun. She clung to him, overwhelmed by desire. Her body awoke, alive with need. Everywhere he touched caught fire. She arched against him with a gasp as his hands lowered to cup her backside and haul her into a burning erection. Half shocked, half intrigued, she rubbed against him. The ache within her intensified and she shook in his arms as he caressed her backside and his lips devoured hers with a hunger that bordered on desperation.
Trembling, on fire, she clung to him as he crowded her back into the hard, gilded surface of the door.
Door. Party.
She tore her mouth from his. “Loren, wait. Stop.”
“In a minute.” He slid a hand under the material of her top and found her breast, tweaking her nipple into a point of hot need.
Dara barely remembered her own name, but struggled to focus. “Loren, they’re waiting for us.”
He groaned, and pulled back. Her body ached at the loss. Frustration glittered in his eyes. “Forget the party. Stay here, with me.”
Oh, how tempting that was. She frowned. “I think your family would notice. I don’t want to offend your grandparents. Asides, I’ve never seen fireworks afore.”
“We shall make our own fireworks.”
She placed a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say another word. I swear, you could tempt a nun. Now enough. We should go. If Sirona had to fetch us two nights in row, we’d never hear the end of it.”
He grinned, pulling the crushed flower from her bodice and replacing it with a fresh one from the nearby vase. “A nun?”
Dara’s cheeks flamed anew as the cool water from the stem trickled down the heated skin of her belly. “Where’s the party?”
“Out in the courtyard.”
Dara froze with her fingers on the door handle. “Must we meet all?”
“Lord and Lady, nay. I shall introduce you to the ministers, the chief mages and some close friends. This is just a party.”
A dark part of her flinched. Her world enslaved while his family attended a birthday party? She had no time to spare for frivolity. She couldn’t allow herself to become distracted. People were counting on her.
Dara started down the winding marble staircase, Loren right behind her. Downstairs, they came upon Cedric waiting with a very tense-looking Verdeen. Dara froze, and flushed guiltily. If he even suspected the reason for their delay…
The high king bowed over Dara’s hand. “Well met, daughter. I am glad thou shalt share in the celebrations.”
“I confess, Sire, I hope to meet some to help with our current situation. Time presses us.”
“The appropriate parties art already forewarned. I would not hesitate to say they shalt seek thee out.” Cedric turned to Loren. “May I walk with thee?”
“Of course, Father.” Loren rested a casual hand against her back and waited as Cedric placed Dara’s hand atop his. The three of them strode to the main entryway, where two royal guards in formal livery snapped to attention as they opened the doors.
Dara noticed the soldiers’ eyes lingering on her legs as she passed betwixt them. “Bloody campfire dress.”
Cedric and Loren exchanged a look. The king smiled at Dara. “Wouldst thou save me a dance later?”
“O-of course, Sire. Verdeen?”
“Would the first arelle suit you, Sire? It would be the third dance of the evening.”
“Perfectly.” Outside, Cedric waved his free hand at the display. “Well, what dost thou think of our gathering?”
Dara stared. “Amazing. Like a bard’s tale.” A rainbow of people milled around while pages circulated with trays of appetizers and wine. Kitchen staff put finishing touches on the buffet table. Musicians tuned instruments while squires lit torches.
Seeing their king approach, all conversation ceased and everyone bowed low.
“Rise,” Cedric stated. “Relax and enjoy the evening.” He turned to Dara. “I see Elio. I believe thou hast met?”
“Aye,” Dara said, intimidated. She’d no idea why Lord Elio affected her so. “But I’d greet him anew.”
Lord Elio was speaking with Brannan and Cianan as they approached. All three men turned to greet their king, but all three gazes froze on Dara. Lord Elio was the first to recover. “Greetings again, child of man,” he rumbled. “Cedric, I am glad thou wert able to get free so early.”
“I threw everyone out,” the king confessed. “They wouldst have nattered at me for hours yet had I not.”
Loren grinned. “Royal prerogative?”
“What good is being king if none do as I say?”
Brannan and Cianan bowed to Cedric and Lord Elio. “Excuse us, Majesty,” Cianan said.
Cedric waved them off as he accepted wine from a page. “Go. Enjoy thyselves.”
Loren frowned at his younger brother and growled. “You may cease staring now.”
Brannan blinked. “Nay, I do not think I can. Lady Dara, you are beyond description.”
“Hardly.” Her skirts fluttered around her. “Just call me a campfire and be done with it.”
Cianan snickered. “One any man would warm aside.” He held up his hands, laughing as Dara rounded on him. “Peace, vertenya. Any man with eyes shall be most attentive tonight.”
Loren’s were the only eyes she cared about.
Loren drew her closer and handed her a glass. “We seek aid for Arcadia tonight,” he told Brannan and Cianan. “Stay sharp for the mages Gwendolyn and Anika.”
“Raun and Alani alert,” Cianan said.
“Let us get this over with.” Loren slipped an arm around Dara. “My Lord of the Treasury, Raun ta Pietr and his daughter Alani.”
So this was Alani. Like Cianan and Falak, Alani had black hair and eyes the piercing blue of a shadowed glacier. About as warm as one too. “Greetings, Lord Raun, Lady Alani.”
Alani looked down her nose at her. “Loren, be she part of the entertainment? Dancing girls should bow to their betters.”
Dara stiffened.
Loren intervened. “May I present Lady Dara Kahn Androcles?”
Raun reddened. “Alani, apologize at once. That was beyond rude.”
“Well, one can understand my error when she shows up wearing a slave brand and the garb of a sensuri.”
Dara went cold and still. Now she knew what that word meant.
“Peace, vertenya,” Cianan warned.
Brannan stepped forward. “May I offer you a glass of wine, Lady Alani?”
Alani glared at the arm Loren had around Dara’s waist. “I would speak with you, Highness.”
“We have naught to say. My grandparents have arrived. Lord Raun, please excuse us.” He led Dara away as
Brannan and Cianan moved to prevent Alani from following. Loren glanced at her sideways. “I am sorry for that. Alani fancies herself my wife. The feeling is not mutual. She is the reason I stay away so often and long.”
Dara bristled. The image of Alani in Loren’s bed made her blood boil, and she froze. How many times had she seen a couple of local girls fighting over a village lad? She was not one of them. What cared she of Loren’s future plans? “Send her packing and be done with it, if you don’t want her.”
It couldn’t be simpler. She wouldn’t put up with unwelcome attention—why did he?
“Her father is my father’s oldest friend and now, as Lord of the Treasury, he is one of the most powerful men in the kingdom.”
Politics? Was that so much more important than personal happiness? What were the rules in this land? Villagers had the right to choose. Wouldn’t a prince have even greater power and freedom? Dara turned to face him. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“This trouble has naught to do with you and your troubles are much more pressing than mine. It is naught I cannot handle.”
Pari and Lorelei approached. Dara was grateful for the interruption. “Happy birthday.” She smiled.
“I thank thee, youngling,” Pari replied with a slight bow.
“Thou hast met Alani?” Lorelei asked.
“Aye.” Dara kept her voice carefully neutral.
“Well, I shalt introduce thee to some friends of mine,” Lorelei said. “I wouldst introduce thee to Gwendolyn, an earth mage, and Anika, an air mage. I hath summoned a metal mage, but I hope this person shalt stay to help with Jalad as well.”
“That leaves fire,” Loren said.
“It does.” Pari’s face was impassive. “The Goddess shalt provide that person at the opportune time.”
Two women approached. “Happy birthday, Pari,” the younger said.
“I thank thee, Gwendolyn,” Pari replied. “Loren hast returned with one who couldst use our aid.”
Gwendolyn nodded to Dara. “Greetings, youngling. I understand thou hast a demon running amok in thy lands. I am certain we can put it back from whence it came.” She turned to Loren. “I heard thou wert made Lady’s champion. Thou shalt play a key role in this, as well.”