The Stones of Kaldaar (Song of the Swords Book 1)

by Tameri Etherton

  “I would like that very much, but I’m afraid I don’t know where my travels will take me next.” She looked at Hayden, who shrugged in answer. “I suppose I could ask Faelara.”

  Tessa nodded enthusiastically, sending her fair curls bouncing and bobbing around her head, fighting against the pins meant to keep them in place. “Please, do.”

  “Have you met many princesses on your travels?” Eliahnna asked in her quiet voice. “I am ever so keen to learn about the other kingdoms. Princess Sabina has been very kind to help me with the Summerlands. She’s been telling me about a sea king whose citizens are merfolk. Have you ever met a mermaid?”

  “I’m afraid not. The closest I’ve ever come is reading a story about a mermaid named Ariel,” Taryn offered.

  “The Eirielle is not a mermaid,” Sabina protested. “That’s just a tale mothers use to frighten their children into good behavior.”

  Marissa enjoyed the heat coming from the Summerlands princess. Like Eliahnna, it was rare to see her angry or upset. Tessa’s outward show of discomfort at Taryn’s statement, followed by Sabina’s angry retort, genuinely confused Taryn.

  “I’m so sorry. I, uh, it was a fairy tale.” Again, her hands trembled slightly.

  Marissa sipped her tea with quiet contemplation. If Taryn was playing them, she gave a skilled performance. The game became immensely more interesting with the dawning understanding Taryn knew nothing about herself or the others. Marissa traced a fingertip around the rim of her cup, wondering idly what her mother would think of the pretty girl. Moreover, what would Taryn think when she found out her companions were her sisters?

  A shadow teased the edge of Marissa’s vision, and she turned to see the disgusting little weasel, Lord Herbret, standing to the side of the group. He cleared his throat, pulling their attention to him. Lady Celia followed a step behind, a smirk on her lovely face. Marissa studied the pair, not at all liking the thoughts that scampered through her mind. There would be time for questions later, when she had Celia alone in her rooms.

  “Herbret, don’t be droll. This isn’t the Crystal Palace. You don’t need an official invitation to join our group.” Marissa gave him her most beguiling smile, the one she knew made his cock jump and his knees weaken. As expected, he shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the front of his trousers as he took a seat opposite Sabina.

  Introductions were made with Herbret lingering overlong on Taryn’s fingertips. The girl vibrated with suppressed anxiety, which further intrigued Marissa. She was a puzzle, for certes. Unsure of herself, and yet carrying a confidence Marissa admired.

  An unbidden memory seared her thoughts, yanking Marissa back to the storm ravaged night Taryn was born. The stench of death, the bright light when Nadra placed the baby’s hand on the sword, were as real to her now as they’d been thirty-five seasons earlier. She could hear the sound of Lliandra’s sobs for the exiled princess and the dead prince. Tears Lliandra did not share with Valterys the next day when she had so callously told him his son was dead, never mentioning another child.

  Hidden in the shadows, no one saw Marissa that night nor did they notice when she began investigating why her mother would lie. By accident, she discovered the prophecy and the reason her mother was frightened enough by the child to send her away. And then to order her death upon her return.

  Hayden stood, jerking Marissa from the past. Making his apologies, he excused himself from the group, but not before a long glance at Sabina.

  “Well, that was rude,” Celia quipped to Hayden’s retreating back.

  While she was reliving the past, Marissa had obviously missed something important. She fixed her thoughts firmly on the present. “Hayden? I don’t think he knows how to be rude. Something must’ve upset him,” Marissa offered, hoping her comment hit the mark.

  Herbret leaned closer to Sabina and whispered words that made her go pale, which, considering her sun-kissed complexion, was remarkable.

  “Indeed,” Celia said, her gaze lingering on Herbret as he pawed Sabina’s gown, a dribble of spit making its way down his chin.

  Marissa stifled a shudder. Once again she thanked the gods she could decide who her lovers would be and didn’t have to rely on the generosity of the court to appoint her a husband.

  “Would anyone like to take a walk in the gardens?” Taryn asked and half rose before Celia interrupted her movement.

  “Please, stay a bit longer. The sun is so harsh this time of day, I can’t possibly tolerate it.” When Taryn resumed her seat, Celia continued, saying in complete innocence, “It is my understanding you are here as a special guest of the duke. Might I inquire how it is you are acquainted?”

  “The duke is an old friend of my grandfather’s.”

  “And what House does your grandfather hail from?”

  “House? I don’t understand.”

  “All noble families have a House name.” Tessa explained. “Was your grandfather titled?”

  Taryn glanced at Celia and then Marissa. Again, that look of recognition crossed her face. Marissa instinctively pulled her power close. “I’m not really sure.” Taryn said, “He never mentioned it if he was.”

  “I’ve never known a nobleman to not to associate with his House, so he must not have been titled.” Celia said knowingly.

  Taryn shrugged, “Then I guess he wasn’t.” She glanced yet again at Marissa, a frown creasing her youthful brow, “Your eyes are lovely, Princess Marissa. Such an unusual color.”

  “I take after my father in looks. His eyes were a deep aubergine. Mine are more lavender in shade, which is much more becoming, don’t you think?” She tossed her black curls over her shoulder and blinked to catch the light.

  Taryn started to reply when Tessa interrupted them. “I heard you were attacked by a band of thieves on your way to Paderau and Prince Rhoane fought them all by himself.”

  Marissa corrected her little sister. “It was a gypsy gang. And Myrddin was the one who held them off while the others made their escape.”

  Taryn looked from one to the other, her eyes widening. “Rhoane is a prince?”

  “An Eleri prince,” Tessa offered. “He’s so handsome! I told Mother that if I were older I should marry him, but she told me that he’s been betrothed since before anyone can remember.”

  Marissa watched the interplay of emotions cross Taryn’s face. So, Rhoane hadn’t told her who he was… Curious.

  “I didn’t know,” Taryn said in a small voice.

  “I’ve heard Offlanders are ignorant of many things; I shouldn’t be surprised that court etiquette is among them,” Celia said in a cheerful voice.

  “Lady Celia! Don’t be so horrid to our guest. If Prince Rhoane didn’t feel the need to tell her he’s royalty, he probably had a reason for it.” Eliahnna gave her older sister a scathing look before turning to Celia. “Apologize to Taryn.”

  Eliahnna was right, of course, but Marissa couldn’t help the surge of delight Celia’s teasing brought.

  Her friend gave a dramatic sigh. “I suppose that was ungracious of me. Won’t you please forgive me?”

  Eliahnna would not back down. “Mother won’t take it well if I tell her you’ve been rude to Duke Anje’s personal guest. Taryn’s ignorance of court politics is not to be demeaned, but perhaps, gently reversed.”

  Her sister rarely stood up to anyone. If Lliandra found out Celia had treated Taryn poorly, there would be serious repercussions.

  Marissa nodded her agreement and said with an imperious tone, “You’re absolutely right. We’ve no reason to criticize your upbringing, Taryn. Not everyone is as fortunate as we are. I hope you don’t think we share Lady Celia’s opinion.”

  “Of course not,” Taryn stammered, clearly unsure what had just happened. “It’s fine, really.”

  Herbret snorted something about “ignorant Offlanders” then tried to cover it up with an obsequious display of gratitude toward Eliahnna. All the while, his hand reached closer and closer to Sabina. The Summerlands princess sat froze
n in place, a look of terror etched on her beautiful features.

  “Sabina,” Taryn said, standing so suddenly the others jumped in surprise. “You look like you don’t mind the sun. Won’t you please join me in the gardens? All this sitting makes me anxious to stretch my legs.”

  Sabina sprang from her place on the couch, almost knocking over Herbret in the process. “I would love to. Thank you.”

  Eliahnna cast a quick glance at Tessa before the two of them followed the older girls from the room. Left with just Herbret and Celia, Marissa let out a low chuckle. “Herbret, what ever did you say to poor Sabina. She was positively death-struck.”

  Herbret reclined into the chair, his paunch clearly visible beneath his waistcoat. “I simply mentioned some of the pleasures she and I would share once we are betrothed.”

  “Did my mother give you permission?”

  “Not yet. We’re still negotiating.” A sly smirk made him even less attractive. Beneath the smile were horrors Marissa doubted even she could bear.

  “Until you have it in writing, you must be more discreet. The wrong word from one of my sisters,” silently Marissa included Taryn in the list, “and you’ll find yourself without a bride.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration.” His simpering annoyed Marissa. “Since when do you allow Offlander trash in your company?”

  Taryn made a huge mistake by protecting Sabina from Herbret. He was not a man who forgave easily, and he never forgot a slight.

  Marissa ignored him and stood. “I think I’ll take some fresh air before retiring to my rooms. Herbret, I’ll see you at dinner. Lady Celia?” She didn’t wait for a reply, knowing Celia would follow.

  When certain no one of consequence could see, she slipped into an alcove with her lady. Her lips sought her friend’s with a hunger women rarely aroused in her.

  “You are a gem, my sweet Celia. Come to my rooms tonight, and I will reward you further.” She pinched Celia’s breast before leaving the woman gasping in her absence.

  Marissa hurried to her rooms, clearing her mind of Celia, focusing on what must be done. Whatever happened at Ravenwood, Valterys needed to know that Hayden lived and Taryn traveled with Myrddin. Sparks of her Mari shot from her fingertips as she cursed that fool Zakael and, to a lesser extent, herself. How Hayden had survived the poisoned sword, she couldn’t understand. No one should’ve been able to undo her spells.

  The sword.

  Marissa spun to her left, heading to the wing where Taryn was sure to be staying. It took a few inquiries, plus a touch of her Mari to compel the servants to forget they’d told her where to find Taryn’s quarters. It was in a part of the palace she remembered well. A delicious courtier had once stayed on the very same floor as Taryn. A thin smile broke across her face. She could traverse every secret passageway hidden behind the walls. If Taryn had the sword, she would find it.

  The secret door swung open with a slight creak. She paused in the darkened hallway, unsure whether Taryn’s maids were in the chamber beyond. When no sound came to her, she pushed aside the heavy tapestry, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  The bedchamber was small but adequate for someone of Taryn’s supposed rank. To Marissa’s trained eye, nothing looked out of place. She felt along the walls for a place large enough to fit a sword. A set of three cupboards lined the wall opposite the bed, two of which opened at her touch. The third remained locked. When she sent a thread of Mari through it, a shock of cold ran over her skin. Someone had placed wards on the cupboard.

  She had set about untying them when voices in the outer room disturbed her progress. A moment before Baehlon—the giant knight her mother favored—and two girls came into the bedchamber, she slipped into the corridor. The secret door clicked shut, and she stood for several moments, breathing heavily.

  When certain Baehlon could not hear her footsteps, she raced to her rooms. Two of her maids from Talaith and two the duke had lent her jumped when she entered the suite, flushed and out of breath. She gave orders to the duke’s girls that would keep them occupied elsewhere. To her ladies, she gave a gold crown and bade them to find any information they could about the duke’s special guest. They were to discern who Taryn spoke with, where she went, what kind of food she ate—anything at all. When her maids had gone, she locked the door, placing several alarming wards on it for good measure. She needed complete privacy, and although her maids were accustomed to her peculiar entertainments, it was best if they weren’t there for what she needed to accomplish.

  She called forth her seeing bowl and several strips of fabric. Before she struck the flint, a funnel of smoke issued from the bowl, snaking its way up her mirror, coalescing into words.

  Will be in Paderau by the twin moons.

  Marissa stared at the mirror before blowing the words into the air. Would it be just Valterys, or would Zakael join them, as well? The all too familiar jag of lust ran the length of her. The last time she and Zakael were alone, he’d wrapped her in his Dark Shanti, giving her the most exquisite pleasure; it was almost better than their lovemaking. Almost.

  But there was no time to think about her physical needs. There was much to do to prepare for their arrival.

  Chapter 15

  DINNER at Paderau Palace did not mean sitting at a quiet table, partaking of a meal with one’s immediate family. The event was orchestrated, timed perfectly to His Grace’s wish. A hierarchy existed in the seating arrangements, and when the duke led Taryn to a table with the princesses, she tried and failed not to notice the stares of the other diners. He held a chair out for her between Sabina and Tessa, both of whom seemed pleased to have her as a dining companion.

  Duke Anje signaled the start of the meal, and servants in fine livery brought out dishes on stunning silver trays. Exotic birds Taryn didn’t recognize were cooked and then reassembled to look as if they were still alive, their feathers so meticulously placed Taryn didn’t know where to cut. Freshly caught fish stared up at her, while other dishes—she hoped they were beef—glared at her with dead eyes. It was most unappetizing.

  Servants roamed the tables, cutting through the masterpieces and serving slices of succulent dishes. More food than Taryn had ever seen in one place drifted through the hall, balanced on the servants’ fingertips. They drank wine and toasted the duke when he stood to give thanks to his guests. He welcomed them all to his hall and bade them good fortune. When he confirmed the rumors Empress Lliandra would be at Paderau to celebrate Hayden’s birthing day, as he called it, the room vibrated with excitement.

  Hayden rose to thank his guests for honoring him by attending the masques. They held their glasses aloft, toasting the young marquis. When he winked at Taryn, Sabina pouted until Hayden looked her way, raising his glass.

  Throughout the meal, performers walked among the tables, juggling knives to the astonished cheers of the guests. A group of tumblers entertained them with gasp-inducing tricks while minstrels strolled the room, singing jubilant tunes. The dazzling display of pomp surprised Taryn. On their journey to Paderau, the duke seemed low key, but the spectacle of wealth at his palace, and the extravagance of the evening reminded her that people weren’t always as they appeared. Sometimes they came with a title.

  With effort, Taryn avoided looking at Rhoane, who sat at the high table beside Marissa. Although she couldn’t say why, she was bitterly hurt and angry with him for concealing not just his betrothal but that he was a prince. Not that it should matter, but it did. The rational part of her mind argued that a title did not change who he was, but somehow Taryn feltless than because of it. When he was just Rhoane, he was like her. Regular. Ordinary. Not a prince betrothed to a princess.

  When dinner concluded, Hayden offered to escort her and Sabina on a walk through the gardens. He was uncharacteristically quiet as they meandered through the sculpted hedges, surrounded by the heady scent of summer blossoms. Taryn made idle chatter while the other two would comment or nod but made no effort to offer conversation of their own. It was as if th
ey both had forgotten how to speak.

  They sat on a bench beneath trees laden with ripening sargots, a fruit that looked like an orange but tasted more like a mango. Taryn loved them from the first bite she’d taken at Ravenwood. After Taryn expended herself of topics, she stood to leave.

  “What are you about?” Hayden asked, a note of alarm in his voice.

  “I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day, and I can’t help but think of that wonderful bed in my room.” She plucked a sargot from the tree. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Sabina said, standing slowly.

  “Stay here with Hayden. There’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy such a lovely evening.”

  Taryn wove her way through the garden room with its glass ceiling and tall windows that afforded grand views. Several clusters of people milled about, and Taryn kept her head down to avoid being snagged into conversation. She slipped through the door and wandered down a darkened hallway before she realized she’d made a wrong turn. Voices a few feet away made her pause.

  Marissa’s throaty words floated toward Taryn. Instead of leaving, she kept near to the wall, inching closer. “Mother misses you, as do we all. You really should spend more time at the palace, Rhoane.”

  Taryn’s heart jerked in her chest.

  “I have been busy, Marissa. You know that.”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Tessa practically announced your betrothal today. Mother will be here tomorrow. You could make it official then.”

  “Do not start with that again.” A cut of anger sliced his words.

  “But Rhoane,” fabric rustled against fabric, “if not now, when?”

  Taryn spun to leave, catching her foot on a chair. The room twisted for a brief second before her head hit the floor with a resoundingthud. Marissa muttered a curse, and then Rhoane was standing over her.

  “Taryn? Are you all right?” He looked more concerned than angry.

  “I was trying to find my room, and I got lost.” Ignoring Rhoane’s outstretched hand, she pushed herself up. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”