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

by Tameri Etherton

  She turned away, leaving Taryn to stare at her, open-mouthed. When the servant approached, only then did she remember herself and regain her composure.

  In the hallway, Taryn let loose a stream of expletives that would make a soldier blush. At that moment, Rhoane made the unfortunate mistake of arriving at Lliandra’s suite.

  “Now you show up. I can’t believe you left me to deal with her on my own.”

  Rhoane looked at her, perplexed. “I was told to meet with the empress at this time, and I assumed you would be here, as well.”

  “Well, I was told to meet her earlier.” She glanced back at the door. “She is so fucking annoying.” Taryn glared at each guard in turn. “If you so much as mention a word of this to her, I swear I’ll arrange it so you never want to make babies again. Are we understood?”

  The guards swallowed hard and nodded.

  Taryn turned her fury back to Rhoane. “I’ll thank you not to tell Her Majesty every detail of our relationship.”

  “I have not told the empress anything about us.”

  “Then why did she just tell me to resolve our problems? You’ve been ignoringme, not the other way around. I sent several notes to you, but you never replied.”

  Rhoane looked positively flummoxed. “I thought I would give you time alone, nothing more. As for notes, I have not received any from you.”

  Taryn was about to challenge him when the door flew open and the empress stood before them. “What is all this shouting about?” She looked first at Taryn and then Rhoane. “Your Highnesses, I expect better behavior from both of you. Really, you do need to work on your communication skills. You always seem to be fighting. Whether it be with a sword in your hand or words on your lips.”

  She motioned for Rhoane to enter. “Prince Rhoane, I’m happy you could make it on such short notice.” She addressed Taryn. “Princess, you may go now. Quietly.” She waved her hand in dismissal before closing the door.

  Taryn seethed in the hallway while trying to decide what she hated more—duplicitous politicians or game playing Eleri princes.

  Chapter 30

  THE woman sat at her dressing table, powdering her once-magnificent breasts. She hummed a pleasant tune and regarded herself in the mirror. When she saw Rhoane’s reflection, she jumped, a slight squeak coming from her sultry mouth.

  “Naughty boy! You scared poor Nena. Is it your wish to kill me?”

  Rhoane chuckled good-naturedly at her melodrama. “Not at all, beautiful Mistress.”

  “No. How many times do I have to tell you this? You do not call me ‘Mistress’ unless you share my bed.” Her eyes narrowed, and a sly grin cracked the heavy makeup she wore. “Is that why you have come today? Finally, you will give Nena what she longs for?”

  “I am afraid not. I am only here to make certain the crown princess is well cared for.”

  “You know I cannot discuss my clients. I will only say that Armando is the best I have, and he gives the princess exactly what she requests.”

  “I should hope so. She comes here frequently enough.” He knew for a fact she was two doors down at that very moment. If he focused his concentration, he could hear her. He did not so desire. “That is far more valuable than her coin, I would think.”

  “In this business, reputation is all you have.” Nena fluffed a strand of her luxurious copper hair and winked toward the bed. “It’s a shame to waste, no?”

  “It is a shame, but you know I am promised to another.”

  “Nena knows about the mysterious golden beauty.” Her tone became serious, and Rhoane sat forward in his chair. “You know Nena would never compromise her business relationships, but I have heard rumblings that some at court do not believe she is the empress’s daughter. Sword or no, there are those who count her false.”

  “I would be surprised if there were not.” He stood and took the madam’s hand in his own. “I was at her birth. She is Lliandra’s legitimate daughter. If she was not, do you think I would be able to deny your charms?”

  Nena actually blushed crimson and giggled like a young maiden. “Flatterer.”

  Rhoane employed an Eleri trick of folding time and left her rooms, chuckling to himself at Nena’s exasperated cry. To her, it appeared that he’d been standing before her one moment, and the next, he’d disappeared. In reality, he simply made the minutes slow for her and leapt from her open window. Only his people knew how to manipulate time, and even then, few could manage it without serious complications.

  He rode Fayngaar through the streets of Talaith, delaying his return to the palace. Lliandra’s meeting with him earlier that morning had not gone well, due in part to her refusal to hear his plea about Marissa, but more so because of the arrival of his father’s messenger.

  When he finally returned to the palace, his kinswoman Janeira tapped a booted foot against the packed dirt as he rode into the stables. As tall as most Aelan men, Janeira was King Stephan’s fiercest warrior. “You are late.”

  “I had business to attend. Why are you not dressed for dinner?”

  “I am without escort.”

  Propriety mattered to the Eleri, but since Janeira had arrived unannounced, and with his father’s demand that he return to the Narthvier at once, Rhoane cared little about her discomfort. A fact, he was certain, would be shared with the king. “I am here now. Let us change and arrive at the feast together.”

  Half a bell later, Janeira gracefully curtseyed to the empress, her long leg extended in the Eleri tradition. Deep slits up the side of her floor-length skirt allowed ample views of her tanned limbs. Janeira’s short top of green silk, embroidered on the edges with gold thread, did little to contain her breasts, and her arms and midsection were bare. She wore her dark hair in braids that hung to the dimples above her buttocks.

  A few of the men closest to her stared appreciatively until their gazes met Rhoane’s. A few brazenly took one last glance at Janeira before drifting off. Most of them had never seen an Eleri woman, and Janeira was among the most beautiful of his race.

  Janeira rose, adjusting the gold chain she wore around her slim waist. To the Eleri, it signified she was unavailable, but for some reason that thin piece of jewelry sent spasms of desire through the Fadair, the non-Eleri. Sometimes, Rhoane just didn’t understand the Fadair mind. She was promised to Rhoane’s brother, Bressal, and even though she wore the gold chain, she had not yet accepted Bressal as her mate but was considering him.

  After greeting the empress, Rhoane led Janeira through the crowded ballroom, scanning the area for Taryn. He’d not seen her since the altercation outside her mother’s rooms, nor did he see her now.

  Lliandra sat on her ornate chair, overseeing the proceedings with a satisfied smile. When they met earlier, she’d made it clear to him that nothing should go wrong that evening. She was livid at having an Eleri arrive unannounced and order her around for the Eleri king. At least they had that in common.

  It wasn’t like his father to dabble in Fadair politics. Rhoane had kept quiet to the empress, waiting until he had a chance to speak with Janeira about his father’s plans, but Janeira, it seemed, was more loyal to their king than he. She would say nothing on the subject, save that he and Taryn had been summoned to the Weirren Court, the seat of the Eleri king, and his home.

  “These Fadair are repulsive.” Janeira seethed when another courtier passed, openly gawking at her near-nakedness. “They think not with their minds, but with their cocks, wanting only to satisfy the moment.”

  “That is an unfair assessment. Some of these men have shown restraint.” Rhoane resented the way Eleri believed everyone to be beneath them. For some of his people, calling other races Fadair was the worst kind of contempt they could show.

  Janeira scoffed as she glared down Lord Herbret’s watery-eyed appraisal. “Do they not realize the power they waste in trifling endeavors? They know nothing of what it means to share one’s body, to allow the exchange of ShantiMari to strengthen both parties. They are like children. Easily a
mused, easier still to lose interest once they have obtained what they chase.”

  “They worship in their own way. It is different, not necessarily worse.” He surveyed the few riders who had come with Janeira. They stayed off to the side, speaking only to each other. The Eleri didn’t understand the customs of people outside the Narthvier, nor did they wish to, which made it difficult for Rhoane.

  “They use something sacred for personal gain. They are disgusting.”

  Rhoane let it drop. The visit was not off to a great start, and he couldn’t risk offending Janeira. If she gave a negative report to his father, it was unlikely the Eleri would revoke hissheannaor accept Taryn as theirDarennsai. Both of which needed to happen.

  Sabina dipped a brusque curtsey, her glare uncharacteristically cold. Her greeting to Janeira was the opposite, warm and inviting. The women dressed in similar clothing, which was to say, not much at all. Sabina wore the traditional attire of the Summerlands, a filmy gown that covered her breasts and lower regions, but left her midsection and most of her legs bare.

  Hayden barely contained his desire as he stood beside the princess, only looking away to speak with Rhoane and Janeira. To his credit, Hayden didn’t gawk at Janeira’s dress as others had, but Rhoane saw the telltale flush to his cheeks.

  A familiar laugh brought Rhoane’s attention away from his companions. He turned in time to see Taryn spin around the dance floor, a wide smile on her face. A pinch of jealousy stung his insides, but he kept his face calm. Since the morning she showed him the looking glass, he’d kept his distance to let her sort out her feelings, but seeing her laughing with another man brought forth unwelcome thoughts.

  When Janeira asked after the couple, Sabina said, “Princess Taryn and Lord Aomori. You remember him, don’t you, Rhoane? We met him in Paderau when Taryn made us dinner.”

  Rhoane did remember him. He came from the Danuri Province but was fostering with Lord Tinsley. His family was one of the wealthiest in Aelinae. Not only that, he was young and quite handsome.

  “Why does she dance with another man if she is your betrothed?” Janeira asked.

  Sabina looked at Rhoane with one eyebrow raised. “Yes, Prince Rhoane, why does she?”

  The tone of her voice and slight shake of her head meant she knew Rhoane had been avoiding Taryn. By way of answer, he bowed to Sabina before leading Janeira to the dance floor, where he kept his kinswoman far from his betrothed.

  This was not the meeting he’d envisioned for the two. It wasn’t Taryn’s fault he’d been scarce the past few days. In an attempt to find the truth of Taryn’s allegations, he’d followed Marissa.

  Aside from meeting with Armando, Marissa rarely left the palace. Once, she’d roamed the gardens for several bells, stopping to sit atop the seawall at the farthest edge of the orchard, and staring out to sea. Even Rhoane’s surreptitious conversation with Hayden hadn’t garnered anything useful. Marissa had been with someone in the servant’s quarters the night they arrived in Talaith, but Hayden had no idea who.

  Even with that piece of information, Rhoane hesitated to think it could be Zakael. He’d actually managed to convince himself it wasn’t Zakael Taryn had seen at the ball in Paderau, that she had been mistaken. He’d known Marissa all her life; she was a devoted daughter, not just to Lliandra, but to the throne. She would never jeopardize Aelinae’s future.

  Of the notes Taryn had mentioned, neither he nor his valet had received them. A few quiet inquiries left him no closer to finding the mysterious papers, either. Somehow, from Taryn to Rhoane, they’d disappeared.

  For most of the evening, Rhoane kept Janeira busy with introductions to powerful nobles who could benefit the Eleri. As much as she believed the Eleri didn’t need the Fadair, Rhoane knew differently. Having lived with them, he understood how the races were intertwined in a way the Eleri could never imagine.

  Although he appeared to pay her no mind, Rhoane kept watch over Taryn, grimacing each time she laughed or spun around the huge dance floor in another man’s arms. She’d been drinking more than usual that night, and each time their eyes met, it was as if she challenged him to stop her. Suddenly his plan to give her some distance didn’t seem like such a great idea.

  “May I have this dance?” Marissa slipped beside him and placed her hand on his arm.

  “The empress was worried about you,” Rhoane said once they were away from Janeira. Marissa should’ve been to the feast bells earlier. The stench of her whore’s sex lingered.

  “I had another engagement, but I’m here now.” She pressed herself into him, sliding her fingers down the front of his tunic to the top of his breeches. “I see your betrothed has found herself a new love.” She flicked the front of his pants, and he grabbed her wrist.

  “This is unseemly of you.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry, Rhoane.” In a breath, her whole demeanor changed. She sagged into him, pouting beneath her fluttering lashes—the same little girl trick she’d used on him countless times over the seasons. It wasn’t cute any longer.

  “You are drunk.” He noticed a bluish tinge around her neck, as if a bruise were just forming. A protective surge overcame him. “What has happened to you, Marissa? Did someone harm you?”

  “Hardly.” She scoffed and flicked her wrist with dramatic flair. “It’s you, my darling, I’m worried about. I wasn’t wrong when I said your betrothed has found someone new. I have it on good authority that Aomori has sampled the fruits of your love.”

  Rhoane glared at her. “You go too far.”

  Her breasts rose and fell in a shrug. Her low-cut gown of pale lavender matched her eyes. A challenge stirred in them, and something else. Remorse, perhaps? “Lady Celia saw them in the garden earlier. They thought they were being discreet but clearly not. I don’t know how Sabina can bear it. She confided in Taryn that Aomori was going to petition the empress for her hand. To be betrayed by your friend like that, it must be awful.”

  They moved to the side of the dance floor where Rhoane slowed their movements, but could not temper the pounding of his heart or the rush of blood to his ears. “Celia is mistaken. She loves gossip more than power. I would not put my trust in anything she says.”

  “Dear Rhoane, you are bound by your Eleri ethics, but you forget Taryn is not. She didn’t swear an oath when she was a child. Don’t look so shocked. Only mother and I know about your oath, and I would never tell a soul. I’ve grown rather fond of my sister and hate to be the one to tell you this, but you have to know—Taryn is trying to break your bonds.”

  He caught Taryn watching them from the other side of the room. She looked frail and alone to him. Aomori laughed at something another lord had said, but Taryn ignored him. The sadness in her eyes touched Rhoane. He shook his head. “You are wrong, Marissa. Taryn has more honor than that.”

  “For your sake, I hope so. You don’t want to be bound for all eternity with a woman who does not want you.” The dance ended, and Marissa ran a finger along Rhoane’s jaw. “You deserve better than her, Rhoane.” The musky scent of her sex wafted after her as she moved through the crowd.

  Although he’d been promised to Taryn since birth, he’d had less than two moonturns to get to know her. He didn’t like the predicament Marissa and Taryn created. If they both told the truth, they betrayed not just him but the entire realm. The problem was that he had no reason to doubt either woman. Yet he couldn’t forget the image he saw in Taryn’s looking glass of Zakael touching Taryn as if they were lovers. Rhoane’s ShantiMari boiled through his veins.

  From across the room, Janeira shot him a look of warning. He didn’t need her to remind him what could happen if Eleri ShantiMari was unconfined. The image of his mother consumed in flames of power was forever embedded on his heart.

  Taryn’s laughter cut through the ballroom, too loud, too forced. She grabbed a goblet from a passing servant before Marissa caught her in a dancer’s pose and spun them both onto the dance floor. Aomori held Sabina in his arms, a league between them
while Hayden watched the pair with jealous hunger in his eyes. Rhoane hated the games nobles played. Hated the way they used lives for their own entertainment. Hated the fact he’d been lured into their schemes.

  At the helm of it all, Lliandra sat on her throne observing the guests with a calculated coolness that unnerved Rhoane. Nothing happened in her kingdom without her knowledge. If Marissa was bedding Zakael, Lliandra would know. If Taryn had bedded Aomori, the same. For a heartbeat, Rhoane wondered if Lliandra had orchestrated the tryst between Taryn and Aomori. It would serve her well to break Rhoane’s bonds with Taryn. Without his influence, Lliandra would be free to manipulate her daughter.

  He roamed the room, scanning the area periodically while Janeira danced with an aging nobleman and Taryn lounged on overstuffed couches with the other princesses, wine goblets filled, and plates of faerie cakes overflowing before them. They talked and laughed and drank. Except little Tessa, who neither spoke, nor ate. Something was wrong. He sensed it. Could almost feel the darkness creeping in. Ready to take hold, to strangle the light.

  “I’ve seen happier faces on pigs ready for slaughter. What’s got you so down?” Baehlon leaned against the open window, sucking in the scant breeze. “Gods, but it’s hot tonight.”

  Rhoane glanced at his friend, noting the sweat on his brow, the stains beneath his arms, “Are you ill?”

  Baehlon shook his head, and the golden bells chimed. “It’s Faelara. The blasted woman insisted I dance with her.” He patted his belly, “I’ve been lax in my training.”

  Rhoane nodded absently, his attention on Janeira’s approach. He turned back to Baehlon and motioned toward Taryn. “She has had enough for one night. Can you escort her to her rooms?”

  Baehlon didn’t question his friend but went to quietly speak with Taryn. She gave him little fight and left without a glance in Rhoane’s direction. Janeira watched Taryn’s exit with a look of disgust on her face. He could just imagine her report to his father—that Taryn was nothing more than a silly girl who couldn’t control her drink. The Eleri would never accept her asDarennsai.