Taryn trotted past wearing a ridiculous costume of short pants, a loose-fitting black top that did nothing for her figure, and work boots. She called out instructions to the men on the field, waving her hands to emphasize her words.
“She’s rather remarkable, don’t you think?” Tessa asked in her breathy little girl voice.
“She’s odd.” That was Eliahnna. Honest. Blunt.
Lliandra remained silent, her eyes tracking Taryn’s every move.
“What is the purpose of this game?” Marissa asked no one in particular.
“Does it need a purpose?” Sabina answered, her gaze fixed on Lord Valen’s bare chest.
“Hayden seems rather adept at it,” Marissa teased. To her right, Herbret twisted the ring he wore on his pinky finger. If he worried it any harder, he might cut off the appendage. Marissa derived a small amount of satisfaction at seeing him upset. He’d taken the empress’s silence regarding his betrothal request as approval and had been far too lax in his comportment. Herbret’s money meant he could afford to offend Marissa, but his lack of royal blood and lesser title meant he needed her on his side. Something he’d forgotten in the last few weeks.
Their eyes met, and Marissa’s smile dripped treacle, it was so sweet. Herbret looked momentarily nervous, then sat up straight and met her smile with one of his own. Acidic enough to burn through the sugar.
Defiance wasn’t like Herbret. He was a coward when it came down to it. She doubted he acted alone, which meant someone had to be coaxing him. Whoever it was, Marissa would find him and destroy him. No one took what was rightfully hers, and Herbret had been her pet for too long. He knew enough about her indiscretions to make him dangerous but not enough to derail her plans.
Marissa licked her lips, a slow turn around the fullness with her tongue, making certain Herbret watched. Slowly, so as not to draw attention to herself, she stroked Sabina’s long locks, bending over to whisper in her ear. “You deserve a man as virile as young Hayden. I don’t know what mother is thinking letting Herbret petition for your hand.”
Sabina’s huge brown eyes fluttered up at Marissa, a look of cautious terror brimming in them. “She what?” A slight tremble started in her hands, working its way to the rest of her body.
“Shhh, now. Don’t worry so. I’ll speak with mother and sort everything out.”
Gratitude, raw and unabashed, glowed on her face. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Marissa continued stroking Sabina’s silky hair, delighting in the closeness it afforded. “Don’t say another word. You’re like a sister to me.” From above her dark curls, Marissa met Herbret’s uneasy stare. Accepting defeat, he blinked and looked away, but not before Marissa saw unbridled hatred burning in his eyes.
“Blood and ashes! Did you see that?” Tessa paced along the edge of the tent, her little hands balled into fists. “He missed the ball!”
“It’s only a game, Tessa. There is no reason to get so worked up,” Lliandra chided.
The players ran in a group, kicking the ball to each other. Marissa didn’t think any of it warranted the excitement Tessa showed. When the ball was kicked to Taryn, she gracefully ran a short distance, keeping the ball between her feet and then kicked it between two posts that had been erected at the far end of the lawn.
The lords cheered and circled her, talking in exaggerated tones that reached those sitting in the shade. Whatever she’d done, the men thought it worthy of praise. Heaps of it, by the sound of their voices.
The group gathered in the center of the lawn where someone dropped the ball. Several men converged on it, trying to get it away from the rest. One lucky man managed to capture the ball, and ran, less gracefully, several paces, before kicking it to another player.
A crowd had gathered on the lawn by now. Soldiers and servants stood shoulder to shoulder cheering and yelling taunts to the players. With each turn Taryn took, the spectators called out her name. Marissa watched the interplay between Taryn and her teammates with increasing interest. The court’s favor was fickle at best, but that afternoon, Taryn was the definite favorite.
If it were anyone else, Marissa wouldn’t give her a second thought, but Taryn posed serious problems if she became too popular. Marissa sent a strand of her Mari toward Taryn. Instead of tangling around her ankles, Taryn leapt over the Mari as if it were nothing more than a stick. Bewildered, Marissa sent another, stronger thread toward the girl. Again, she dodged the Mari, snuffing it out with the heel of her boot.
“See how she deftly handles the ball,” Tessa began. “I hear she is equally skilled with the sword. Today she taught the soldiers hand-to-hand combat.” There was a dreamy quality to Tessa’s voice that grated on Marissa’s nerves.
“She is a treasure, to be sure,” Marissa offered, putting as much enthusiasm as she could into her tone. “Would you like to join them?”
Tessa’s face lit up with eagerness. “I would indeed. Do you think I could?”
“Tessa,” Lliandra began, using the timbre she reserved for special disappointment, “I don’t think it would be proper.”
Tears filled Tessa’s eyes. “Yes, Mother.” She took her seat beside Eliahnna, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on her crossed arms.
The ball dropped, the players raced after it. They ran, they kicked, they cheered. Marissa was bored of it all. She sent one last charge of Mari at Taryn. Her power wrapped around Taryn’s legs, taking her down with a satisfyingthump.
A collective gasp came from the crowd.
As graceful as a carlix, Taryn rolled to her feet and brushed off her legs. When she jogged back to the group, Marissa noted a slight limp in her gait and smiled to herself. She cast a lazy glance over the crowd before turning back to those seated in the tent. Her gaze fell upon Herbret, who watched her with troublesome intensity. He gave a small salute and pivoted, leaving her to stare at his ample backside as he left the tent.
A short while later the game ended with congratulatory remarks and cheers for Taryn. The geniality lasted well into the evening, giving the second masque an air of excitement. The lords who had played with Taryn enjoyed their elevated status, with ladies lining up to dance with them. As for Taryn, she stayed close to Sabina much of the night, danced only with Hayden or Rhoane, and left well before midnight bells.
At second bell, Marissa excused herself from the party, wanting nothing more than to return to her rooms and curl up in the blankets, sleeping until tea the next day, but she’d promised Zakael she’d meet him at the inn. For half a heartbeat, she debated whether she should beg off. The pull of his Dark Shanti was too strong, though, and she headed toward the gardens, avoiding as many courtiers and servants as she could.
The party would continue for several more bells until the morning light, even into the next day if Hayden wished it. Three masques over three nights, each themed and outlasting the previous party. Marissa scoffed. It was a ridiculous display of Anje’s wealth, but if the stupid man wanted to waste all that gold on his only son, who was she to argue?
“Your Highness, may I speak with you a moment?” Herbret’s clammy hand wrapped around her wrist with a familiarity she resented.
“Not now, Herbret.” She withdrew her arm from him, ignoring the need to wipe it on her gown.
“Please.”
Marissa stopped short. Herbret did not beg. Ever. “What is it?” She kept her tone neutral, but inside, she thrilled at the neediness she saw in his face.
“You have to help me gain your mother’s support for my petition.”
“I don’t have to do anything, especially not for someone whose loyalty has waned of late.”
His beady eyes, set too close together and making her think, not for the first time, he had descended from trolls, shifted from side to side with nervous energy. “You’re right. I apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me. Love, perhaps. This union with the princess—I need it.”
“Why, Herbret? Why her? She has no ShantiMari, and you
don’t need her coin. What does she offer you?”
His eyes darted to the left, then right, and then to her breasts where his gaze lingered. “She has ties to the southern shipping routes. I need those merchants in my favor. There have been increasing pirate attacks in the southern seas that have nearly crippled my fleet.”
Plausible, but not the whole story. Marissa took a deep breath, lifting her breasts to just below his nose. “Losing your ships would be tragic. I’ll speak with Mother. But Herbret…” She waited until he pulled his gaze to her face. “I need to know you will never defy me. If we’re to have a partnership, we must trust one another.” She ran a finger down his sweaty cheek, pausing to rake a nail over his lower lip. “We make such a good team, you and I.” She ran her fingers through his hair and Herbret shivered into her touch, his body vibrating with suppressed pleasure. “There’s something I need from you, but I can’t tell you now. Come to my rooms tomorrow, and we’ll chat.”
His reply was a low moan punctuated with an elongated, “Yessss.”
“Your Highness.” A youthful voice sounded just behind her, and Marissa turned to see one of the duke’s servants bowing low.
“Yes?”
“Your mother would like a word. If you’ll come with me.”
Marissa yanked a few strands of Herbret’s hair and patted his cheek. “Be a good boy. All will be well.”
She followed the servant in silent fury. If she hadn’t stopped to deal with that twit Herbret, she’d be in Zakael’s bed this moment. Not on her way to see the empress.
Lliandra beckoned her forward when a maid announced her arrival. Her mother wore one of her more demure sleeping gowns, which covered little of the woman’s voluptuous curves. The years had been good to her mother, Marissa admitted grudgingly. Still beautiful, with a body men craved, Lliandra ruled with as much strength and passion as she put into her lovers. To Lliandra, mating was nothing but an extension of her duties as an empress.
“Leave us,” Lliandra commanded her maids. When they’d gone, she handed Marissa an ornate silver brush and settled into her chair.
Marissa dutifully began combing her mother’s luxurious tresses, being careful not to snag the bristles.
“I called you here to discuss your plans with Zakael. Is he still in Paderau?”
Marissa kept the brush moving, not wanting to give Lliandra reason to doubt her. “Of course not. He left after the debacle last night. I don’t know what possessed him to come here.”
“Good. We don’t need any further distractions. Taryn has gained too much favor, it would be impossible to eliminate her now without questions, therefore, I want you to ingratiate yourself with the girl. As yet, she knows nothing, and I’d like to keep it that way. At least until Talaith.”
Lliandra’s eyes, deep blue pools of glass that shone whether there was light in the room or not, met Marissa’s gaze in the mirror. “We can’t expose her until we’re in the capital city. Valterys knows this, which is why, I believe, he sent Zakael. To force our hand. Taryn must be accepted at court.”
“She’s never used power. Are you sure she is the one?”
Lliandra winced as the brush caught a snarl, and Marissa tensed, waiting for the expected lash. “I am sure. ShantiMari or not, she is the Eirielle. Tomorrow is the last masque. We’ll return to Talaith a few days later and then I’ll publicly declare her in front of the court.”
Marissa’s mind spun with the implications. “You can’t possibly arrange everything while you’re here. Why don’t I return to Talaith now? That way, I can have the ceremony in place for when you return.” A fortnight alone with Zakael at the Crystal Palace—it was almost too good to be true. “That would give you nearly two weeks to get close to her, study her, learn her weaknesses.”
Lliandra tapped a finger on the vanity, her nail making atick sound with each tap. “Yes, that might be for the best. You would do that for me? I know how you hate planning these things.”
Marissa bent and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I would do anything for you.”
“I know you would, my love.” She pointed to her head, and Marissa resumed her brushing. “Have you decided on a husband for Sabina?”
“I think the Danurian would be to our best advantage.” Marissa said with genuine enthusiasm. She wanted the handsome man for herself, and the quickest way to get him to Talaith was a betrothal to Sabina.
“Lord Aomori?” Again, thetick,tick,tick of her nail on wood. “I thought perhaps he would make a good match for Eliahnna. She’s coming of age in a few seasons, and we need a strong ally in the west.”
“We don’t have the time to wait for her to mature. We need strength in the west now.”
“Lord Herbret has petitioned for Sabina’s hand.” Lliandra said without much enthusiasm.
Marissa kept her face blank. “Has he? What does he hope to accomplish?”
Lliandra waved as if swatting an irritating bug, “I’m not sure, but keep an eye on him. He’s planning something, and I need to know what.” Lliandra reached back and took Marissa’s hand in her own. “They found Liago’s body, by the way.”
Marissa frowned. The name meant nothing to her. “Who?”
“My lover. By the marks of ShantiMari on his throat, it appears he was strangled.”
“I’m sorry, Mother. I know you enjoyed his company. Do they know who killed him?”
Lliandra’s eyes bore into hers. Her mother knew. Knew she’d been the one to murder her lover, but Lliandra had no proof. “No.”
Marissa wound her arms around Lliandra and gave a comforting squeeze. “Perhaps you’ll find a new concubine here. There is a delicious looking Ullan who’s been shadowing you. I hear they are wicked healers. He could help mend your broken heart.”
Ullans were notorious for their alternative ways, often employing pleasures of the flesh in their healing rituals.
“Perhaps I will.” Lliandra stood to embrace her daughter. Her soft lips covered Marissa’s, her tongue sought the warm comfort of her mouth.
Marissa returned the kiss, moaning against her mother as Lliandra’s fingertips pinched between her legs, finding that little button of pleasure and rubbing hard. Her body jerked in response, releasing the pent-up energy she’d been saving for Zakael. Wetness pooled between her legs. Her body trembled.
Lliandra pulled back slightly, a triumphant smile lighting her face. The hard slap across Marissa’s cheek stunned the younger woman. Heat flamed from her neck to her temple, but Marissa kept herself steady as best she could.
“Liago was dispensable, yes, but when you killed him, you betrayed me. I will not suffer your vanity again.” Lliandra smoothed Marissa’s hair, cooing the words she spoke. “Be careful with your heart, my love. Zakael won’t be so easily disposed of, or forgotten. Now go.”
Shaken from her mother’s words, and her touch, Marissa left the empress’s rooms, mentally listing what needed to be done. First was to put that Ullan in Lliandra’s bed. Marissa needed her mother distracted, and a good lover always did the trick. Next was to speak with Sabina. There had to be a reason Herbret was willing to risk his favor with her for a worthless girl.
Chapter 20
TARYN stood outside the duke’s rooms debating whether to knock or leave before she made a fool of herself. The door swung open, and Oliver, Hayden’s valet, gasped at seeing her, then ushered her inside.
“I was about to go looking for you. Come in,” he said, a hand to his heart.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” She placed a hand on his arm, balancing the cake with the other.
“That’s all right, dear. I’m getting on in seasons, is all.”
They walked down a long hallway to the duke’s private dining room where Sabina and the younger princesses were already seated. Duke Anje sat at the head of the table, with Rhoane to his right and Baehlon his left. Faelara chatted with the giant knight and looked up when Taryn entered.
“There you are. We were beginning to worry.” Hayden greeted her.<
br />
Taryn held out the small cake she’d made. “This is for you. Carga said it’s your favorite.”
Hayden took the cake from her, admiring the decorative frosting she’d painstakingly applied. “Apple spice?”
“Yep. I made it myself.”
“You can cook?” Faelara asked, surprised.
“Technically, this is baking. But yes, I can cook. Before I ran around with you lot, I used to cook for Brandt all the time. He could barely boil water.” She snort-laughed. Then laughed at her snort.
“I will remember that for the next time we travel.” Faelara promised.
Taryn sat down beside Sabina and held up her glass for some wine. “As long as someone else gets to peel potatoes. But first, a toast to the birthday boy.”
They ate a light meal and laughed at the duke’s stories about Hayden’s childhood—everyone except Hayden. His mischievousness wasn’t as humorous to him as it was everyone else. Myrddin stopped by as the meal concluded to give Hayden a leather-bound book of ancient myths and legends. When the rest of the gifts were given and well wishes for a prosperous season were made, they drank cups of spiced grhom.
“I’m sorry I don’t have anything else to give,” she said with a sheepish grin. “Not that I’d know what to get a marquis anyway.”
“This,” Hayden said, holding a forkful of cake, “is the best present I’ve ever received. And it’s delicious.” He plopped a piece in his mouth and chewed with exaggerated delight.
“There is one other thing Taryn can give you,” Anje said cryptically. “Fighting lessons.”
Taryn stared at the duke, unsure if he was joking. “But you said no.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Hayden whooped and caught Taryn up in a hug, spinning her around the room. When he set her down, he kissed her full on the lips. Silence clung to the air as Hayden stepped back, aware of his actions and their audience. He bowed first to Taryn and then to Sabina, muttering an apology. Then, to Taryn’s horror, Hayden bowed low to Rhoane. The Eleri prince waved him off with a shrug. Faelara broke the awkward moment, congratulating Hayden, and fussing over him to be careful in the training yard.
The Stones of Kaldaar (Song of the Swords Book 1) Page 17