Blade's Edge

by Val Roberts

  Her eyes widened just slightly, though she made no effort to cover herself, and she was nude. At least he'd gained enough trust that she wasn't embarrassed to be naked in front of him. “You can't be thinking ... how would you know?” She blinked and her face smoothed into a mask, as if the pieces had suddenly come together. It was almost a relief. “Leone told you."

  "Leone recognized me.” The truth, all of it, no matter how ugly it would sound. “My full name is Blademir Ericsal von Stassos.” Your enemy. Your lover. Gods willing, your mate.

  Although her eyes narrowed, she didn't look all that surprised. “So are you the heir, or the spare?” It confirmed that she'd had suspicions, had been piecing together small bits of information, and had already come to an unpalatable conclusion. So be it.

  "I am the Barian Crown Heir,” he confirmed, “and I love you."

  "Oh, please.” She sat up again, gathering the covers around her, and crossed her legs in a half-lotus. “If you want to get laid, just say so. Don't start lying about that, too."

  "I'm not lying."

  "Yes, you are. If not to me, then to yourself.” Okay, he hadn't been quite sure what reaction to expect, but stark disbelief hadn't been on the short list. “I'm willing to believe that you're having some sort of an emotional reaction to the stress of the past couple of days, but this is a little extreme, don't you think?"

  "What?” he asked, stalling for time to regroup.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You can't be in love with me. You don't even know me."

  "Don't I?” He leaned closer to her and cupped her face to make her look him in the eyes. “I know what it feels like when you cry—like a rusty knife ripping out my intestines. I know what you look like when you're fighting for your life. I know what I feel when I'm inside you, and I know I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy."

  She regarded him with that masked stare for a moment. “What's my favorite color?"

  "Blue,” he said without conscious thought. “Dark, midnight blue, the color of Silvergard uniforms.” The mask cracked in astonishment, and he took the breach as an opportunity to slide his arms around her waist and pull her closer. “I also know that in the morning you're going to have a long talk with my old friend Llamass, and then he's going to bond us for life, because we'll have every reason to believe you're carrying our child."

  "No we won't,” she came back, although she looked even more startled. “I've been taking maidwort."

  Ah, it was the herbal contraceptive. “Who gave you the maidwort?” He pulled back far enough to cover her abdomen with his palm. She nibbled her lower lip and he felt a surge in his groin. Her expression closed again. “Taryn?"

  "Leone gave it to me.” It was a factual report, which meant she was holding in rage with all of her considerable will. He had to break through that wall if he was going to make her see that Leone hadn't betrayed her trust but had included him within the circle. “Does Galen know?"

  "He knows who you are, and he knows I love you.” He rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach and admitted to himself that Galen had known before he did. “I had to let him know I was serious or he would never forgive me.” He felt his lips quirk in a soft smile. “He threatened to do unspeakable things to me in defense of your honor."

  "And the others?” If anything, she seemed even more guarded.

  "I didn't say anything, but they know I care about you.” He leaned forward. “And they respect you as much as I do.” No response. “I don't know if they've figured out that you're their next queen yet."

  That elicited a response—not the one he had hoped for, but at least the one he had expected. She pulled away from him, scooting back into the corner of the small bed where it was butted up against the walls.

  "No.” Her voice had dropped by almost an octave and there was no room for negotiation in the answer. Then she lifted her hand to the scar, her touchstone, and he knew she was saying it to hope, not to him.

  "Taryn, don't.” He pulled her hand away. “It's not like that."

  "How long will it be before you get bored and go looking for pleasure somewhere else, leaving me alone in a culture I don't understand and don't want to understand? How is it not like that?” Her eyes burned as she stared at him. “How would any kind of permanent bond make me anything more than a Bariani slave once this infatuation wears off? How could it possibly be not like that?"

  "Because.” He opened his mouth and groped for words, but nothing came to him. He'd already told her he loved her, what more could he say? He had to try. “It's not. I don't know what you've been told about Barian culture, but slavery—any form of slavery—has been outlawed for centuries. Marriage is a partnership between equals. You are my equal. And I can't let you go back home and be killed. You're too important to me to ever allow that."

  "I'm not important.” This time her voice was strong, and the anger was bleeding through. She got up on her knees, leaned close to his face and almost yelled it. “I've never been important, never been anything more than a lever, a tool to achieve something else."

  Her mouth was so close, those smoky blue eyes snapping fire. She was so beautiful, so very much alive, and he wanted her at that moment more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life, but he had to make her understand first.

  "You are to me.” He took a deep breath and bared everything. “You are the most important woman in the dozen worlds, the mother of all my children, the bodyguard covering my back. I've known you for three days and I can't imagine my life without you in it.” He had no idea where the words were coming from, but as soon as they were out he knew they were all true—right down to the bone marrow. “I'm not going to wake up tomorrow or fifty years from now and wonder what I was thinking.” She said nothing and he felt his pulse speed up. Something was squeezing his chest, making breathing difficult. Didn't she understand he was baring his soul? “Say something."

  "What am I supposed to say?” She looked at the wall. “Thank you for ruining my life and turning me into your brood mare?"

  "Your family ruined your life, sister or mother doesn't matter, but they weren't there for you. I get the feeling they've never been there. Leone was there, and she still is. She wants you to be happy as much as I do, Vixen."

  "Don't call me that!” She gathered her legs under her and jumped off the bed over his head. By the time he got to his feet she was almost to her scabbard. If she pulled that saber, he was a dead man, because she had reflexes like a cobra and she was deep in an icy rage. He grabbed for the only thing within reach, her hair, and pulled her back to him.

  "I'm sorry,” he murmured to her cry of pain and surprise. “I don't want to hurt you.” He kissed the back of her head. “I never want to hurt you, Taryn.” She writhed against him and tried to pry his hands off her body.

  "Let go of me, you animal!” When prying didn't work, she struggled to get away from him and he had to use every bit of his upper body strength to keep her where she belonged. “What did you offer Leone to make her sell me out?"

  "I told you, she didn't sell you out. Leone loves you like the sister you should have had.” She stopped struggling, but she was breathing unevenly, which was a bad sign.

  "Let me go.” She sagged against him and it felt so good.

  "I'm never letting you go,” he said into her hair, closing his eyes and savoring the way she fit against him. It was like sinking into his favorite chair after a long day, only better. “I can't keep you safe if I let you go. I won't know you're unhappy if I let you go, so I can't fix whatever's wrong."

  She sobbed with her whole body, but it was from anger and frustration, not defeat. His Vixen would go down fighting, using her last breath to curse her enemies. All she had to do was figure out how to distinguish them from her friends. He turned her around and tightened his arms in support, gently walking her back to the bed while she leaned into him and slid her hands up his chest to cling to his shoulders. By the time he got her there, she already had herself
under control, so he picked her up and laid her back on the sheets that were still warm from her body.

  "Better?” he asked as he leaned over her. She sniffed again and her lower lip trembled, ever so slightly. He knew she wouldn't want to cry again, so he kissed her. She whimpered, a small noise of desperation and confusion, and then she opened to him, pulling him down onto her like a compass needle seeking a pole. Everything else faded into triviality as he surrendered to her heat, touching and tasting, slowly working his way down her luscious body with special, gentle attention to her wound before he buried his face between her thighs and drank her in.

  Taryn squirmed and moaned, digging her fingers into his scalp. At that moment, all he wanted in life was to give her pleasure, to prove her trust hadn't been misplaced. If they could come together here with trust and love, there was hope for them. He licked and suckled and stroked until she convulsed and melted back into the mattress, but his work was only beginning. He slid off the robe and let it drop to the floor as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her peace, then carefully stretched out next to her and pulled her close again.

  "What happens when you tire of me?” she asked without opening her eyes. He kissed her shoulder.

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  Chapter Fourteen

  "Nothing, because I will never get tired of you."

  "You will.” She turned onto her side and pushed hair out of her eyes. “Statistically you will seek another lover in two years."

  "We are not a statistic.” He pulled her to him and kissed her, reveling in her taste. When he moved between her legs, he promised himself to take it slowly. The sooner he climaxed, the sooner he had to leave her alone in this cell when he never wanted to leave her alone again. He groaned as he pushed into her wet, willing flesh, had to fight for control to keep from bucking like a wild animal when she sighed her acceptance of him.

  "Taryn, my only love,” he murmured, “look at me.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him, tears of fury gathering while he started moving gently inside her. He didn't want the anger, even if she had banked it down to a physical reaction. He fought the need as long as he could, but when she was breathing in deep gulps he couldn't stop himself. He thrust as deeply into her as he could in long, desperate strokes while she stared up at him, hating him and wanting him, and he gave her everything he had. Taryn's body arched, her nails raked down his back and he was coming, and coming, long and hard, emptying his seed into the ripe womb of the woman he loved.

  "Mine. Oh Gods, yes.” Belatedly, he realized he had gasped it out loud as he tried to raise himself onto his elbows, unwilling to retreat any farther from her than that.

  "You should go.” She was still trying to catch her breath, but already backing away from him. Unfortunately for her, he wasn't about to be abandoned a second time.

  "Oh?” He dipped his head and kissed her lightly. “You really need to work on your pillow talk, Vixen.” She tried to push him away, her hands sliding on his sweat-slick skin.

  "I'm serious. You got what you came for.” He rolled to one side and came up against the wall. Apparently, penitent beds weren't designed to be occupied by more than one.

  "Did I?” He pulled her onto her side so he could look into her eyes. Sated, but still angry. “Did you miss the part about this being permanent? I'm not going anywhere.” At least not until she internalized the facts. There might be a hell to pay in the morning if he were to be found with her, but he wasn't about to leave her when she was still angry, still denying their deep connection.

  Frustration joined the anger. “You are impossible."

  "Get used to it.” He sat up to pull the covers over them and every muscle protested. Thank all the gods they wouldn't have to spend a fourth day on horses. “Voice command. Lights out.” The room pitched into darkness as he settled her against him more comfortably, almost content because he'd finally found the one woman he wanted for the rest of his life and she was with him.

  Taryn listened to Blade's breathing and wondered how he could sleep when the world was slowly crashing down around her. Again. He wanted her to make a choice, to abandon everything she had ever thought and believed, but she knew he wasn't telling her the whole truth. After he had what he wanted he hadn't even bothered saying it again, which was a sure sign he hadn't meant those three words.

  He didn't love her.

  He meant to use her to force Barian's will on Zona by mixing the royal lines and that was all. Well, almost all; there was the male penchant for possessiveness and ownership in there as well, or he wouldn't have called her “mine” with such satisfaction. She had told him the truth when she'd said she had never been more than a tool, so that wasn't what was making the cold lump in the pit of her stomach. No, she was used to that, which meant the cold lump had to be because she had fallen in love with her enemy and knew she would be cast aside when he found a woman who could truly stand beside him as an equal. For example, one who already knew how to read a Bariani book and didn't have to have the mechanism explained to her.

  Tears welled in the darkness, but she couldn't allow them to fall. The water would wake Blade and let him know his deception had not been successful. She blinked hard several times and tried to control her breathing so that he wouldn't know, but he sensed it on some level anyway, tightening his arm around her and murmuring something unintelligible in his sleep. Finally, she buried her face in his neck and willed herself to unconsciousness, but it was a long time coming.

  She watched from a balcony as Blade announced to a crowded assembly that he had taken a consort, then removed the veil from a woman standing next to him. Talyn stared up at her from Blade's side, her eyes glittering and triumphant—and the cell door slammed open, yanking her from the horrible dream with a small shriek. Wait, hadn't they been here before?

  Blade was already rolling, pulling her down off the bed to the floor and pushing her under him, trying to protect her by using his own body as a shield from the attack. But she, for once, wasn't the object. Still disoriented, but with the sense of déjà vu rapidly dissipating, she could only watch as four large men in Sanctuary robes pulled him away from her. He fought like a wild thing, connecting with fists and legs—even sending one of the Sanctuarians flying across the small room to crash into the wall and shake something like plaster from the ceiling, but more came in until there was a sea of male bodies all bent on subduing the Barian Crown Heir without hurting him. There wasn't even any room for Taryn to try to help, too much noise for her to tell him to stop before he injured himself.

  It took six of them, one on each of his arms, two for each leg, to hold him still enough for another to wrap him in some sort of cloth before they passed him, still struggling, through the door. The man who had hit the wall stirred a little, then climbed shakily to his feet as Taryn watched, spellbound. Blade had fought odds of eight to one just to stay with her. She could hear his enraged cursing for another ten seconds or so, and then the clang of the Enclave door.

  It was over.

  She gathered the bedclothes around herself and stood in a daze, hearing the first notes of dawn birdsong just as the Santuarian who had showed her to this place quietly stepped into her cell.

  "Truthtester Llamass requests that you visit him in your study at the second hour past dawn if that is convenient, Your Highness.” He picked up the robe Blade had been wearing the night before, then fixed her with a look of polite inquiry. Hysterical laughter bubbled up and threatened to get out, because the situation was so surreal. He stood there as if the heir to the throne of the most powerful nation on Timarron hadn't been forcibly removed back to his proper sphere of existence a minute or two before.

  "What is the subject of the interview?” she asked, matching him formality for formality and ignoring the fact that she was wearing only a sheet and some kind of blanket that crackled if she moved it too much.

  "His Royal Highness Blademir has asked that your recollection of the events in Balsom three days ago be recorded wi
th the Enclave.” He folded the robe with care, thereby avoiding looking at her. “The truthtester agreed that this would be a good thing."

  "I see.” She stood and dropped the bedclothes, just to see what he would do. He looked her in the eyes. “Am I to be allowed to break my fast before the inquisition?"

  "But of course.” His eyes twinkled again, as they had the evening before. “Since the new moon celebration is over, you can eat here or with the rest of the Enclave in the refectory, as you wish. When you are ready, use the communication system to call me and I will either bring your meal or lead you to the refectory."

  "And how do I do that?” she asked with only the tiniest hint of acid in her voice. “Tie a note to the talon of a pocket dragon?"

  "Nothing so imaginative as that, Prince Taryn.” He brushed an imaginary piece of lint from the robe draped over his arm. “Simply say the word voice, followed by the word command, then the word communication to activate the system. My name is Hideo. Saying that will connect you to me."

  "I think I can manage that.” She turned her back to him. “I would like to eat in the refectory, please."

  "Then I will leave you to dress.” She heard the door close quietly behind her and began sorting through her remaining clothing, looking for something suitable to wear.

  The refectory was a large hall filled with round tables and perhaps a hundred men, most in robes, all eating and talking. The tables were covered in white linen and each had a small vase in the center filled with three or four stems of winterbells, giving an overall impression of a grand salon in a palace rather than the dining hall of a religious order. Nor did Taryn see a mess line in evidence as Hideo gestured her into an empty chair at the table holding the rest of her traveling companions, except for Blade. They all stood.