Raven took the blanket, shook it out, then folded it into a roll, which he strapped to the saddle. "I’ve evidence of that," he said dryly. "Whose arse got caned when you broke your mother’s prize urn?" When she was silent, he nodded. "Aye, Sweeting, it wasn’t yours!"
"But you got your first kiss that day when you told them it was you!"
"That’s not all I got that day, if I remember correctly." He chuckled, thinking of the tongue she had slipped into his mouth, shocking him beyond speech.
"I’ve heard there are things one can do—"
He cast her a warning look.
She grinned. "I intend to—"
Raven held up his hand. "I’ve no desire to hear what you intend until we are safely Joined, then you can do with me what you will, wicked woman."
Miyoshi laughed, then covered her mouth with her hand, as if realizing her father’s men or other ears might be listening in the forest glade.
With a shake of his head at her wide eyes and embarrassment-stained face, Raven threaded his fingers together and held them below the stirrup for her to mount. As she placed her booted foot in his hands, he was amazed at her insignificant weight as he propelled her into the saddle. Once she was settled, he mounted behind her, bracing her back against his chest so she would be comfortable.
"I am hungry," she sighed.
"Aye, so am I."
Not daring to light a fire the evening before, for fear the smoke would lead unwanted guests to their campsite, they had eaten dried meat and stale biscuits. Between them, they had only two strips of mutton and half of a hard biscuit to last until they reached Serenia. What little food they’d managed to steal before riding out to meet they had pilfered from their respective homes—his from the apartments of state where he lived with his father—the Ambassador from Serenia—and hers from the palace.
"I may spend every coin in my possession on food once we reach Crandellton." She twisted in the saddle as he kicked their mount into motion. "We may have to temporarily postpone the Joining until I have had my fill of meat, Saur."
He looked into her playful eyes. "I’ll give you plenty meat, Lady," he replied wickedly, wagging his brows. "More than you may be able to handle with ease!" With that, he kicked the horse into a slow trot, expertly maneuvering the chestnut through the forest stand.
"Evil man," she commented before they passed close to a roaring waterfall, where all sound was extinguished, save the tumble of the water.
Around them, shafts of sunlight speared through the trees. Butterflies flitted amongst the greenery. Their steed kept a steady pace, its hooves making little sound on the blanket of fallen leaves. Miyoshi’s long black hair lifted and fell with the cadence of their mount’s step. Her skirts flapped against Raven’s corduroy-clad legs. His arms were around her, his hands firmly on the horse’s reins. Together they rode, long accustomed to traveling in that manner.
* * *
Miyoshi closed her eyes, reveling in the hardness braced against her rump and the rub of Raven’s arms along the sides of her breast, the clamp of his muscular thighs outside her own. The gait of the horse was exhilarating and she wiggled against the pommel.
Raven placed his mouth to her ear. "I know what you’re doing. Stop it."
"You stop it," she returned, giggling at the sudden movement against the cleavage of her rump.
"You are a shameless bawd!"
He shocked her by doing something he’d never done before—he covered one of her breasts with his hand and nearly unseated them both when she jumped.
"Raven!" she gasped, feeling the heat of his palm through the material.
"Be still," he commanded. His breath in her ear caused ripples of sensation through her body. "You’ve been baiting me all morning, now suffer the consequences!"
Though her face burned, Miyoshi experienced what she had dreamt of since puberty. Raven’s hand gently kneaded her flesh, his palm traveling in a slow, tight circle around her turgid nipple. There was just enough pressure from that strong sword hand to cause intense pleasure and make the throbbing between her thighs increase.
"Raven," she sighed on a long breath of contentment.
Laughter rumbled deep in his chest. "Does that please you?"
"Um hum," she mumbled, closing her eyes.
"What about this?"
Her eyes opened as his tongue darted into her ear, lapping at the spiral. Biting her lip to keep from crying out, and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d shocked her, she kept still, squeezing her eyes closed and enduring the exquisite torture.
"Saucy wench." He caught her earlobe between his teeth.
Miyoshi melted against him, pressed his hand tightly to her bosom. Her breath came in shallow pants and her heart thundered.
""Now, think on that for a while and quit squirming."
"Quit squirming? How do you reckon I can do that now that you’ve practically raped me?"
"Try," he said hoarsely.
"Hard to do when you’re…" She felt him leap against her backside once more, then groaned with the anticipation of that steely strength doing to her what the serving girls of the keep had told her men did to women.
"Have you no fear of it, Milady?" one cook’s assistant had asked her.
"I fear nothing my husband to be will do to me."
"Well, I’d fear Prince Riain, if’n I was you!" another girl insisted. "He’s a Chalean berserker like his people before him!"
Miyoshi had no fear of Riain Cree, for she had no intention of marrying him. Though their fathers had made the arrangements, neither she nor Riain had been consulted. When she heard of the betrothal, she soundly rejected the offer.
Unfortunately, she’d had no voice in the matter.
"I would rather Join with a mongoose!" Miyoshi had shouted. "Besides, I am already betrothed!"
Her mother had laughed. "For the love of Alel! To whom? Raven Saur?"
"Aye," Miyoshi’s brother sighed. "The lowly son of an ambassador is not marriage material for the daughter of the house of Shimota."
"He may be the son of a lowly son of an ambassador, as you so rudely put it, Kiaku," she grated, "but he has more royal bearing than Riain Cree will have in ten lifetimes. And a thousand times more honesty!"
"You’ve never met the man," her father fumed. "How can you compare him to the Saur boy so unfavorably?"
"I have heard the tales of the Chalean berserkers, Father. Raven is—"
"The matter is closed," her mother pronounced. "You will Join with the House of Cree and that is all there is to it!"
"Discussion is at an end," her father added.
Now, Miyoshi sighed as she stroked Raven’s arm under her breasts.
Even with her eyes closed, she could picture his handsome face as clearly as though she was looking at it. With his midnight hair and emerald green gaze, he was a striking man who caught the eye and whimsy of every passing maid. Six feet tall with broad shoulders and narrow hips, a rock-hard belly and wide, heavily furred chest, Raven Daniel Saur was a man well respected at Binh Tae palace. He was devastatingly handsome, strong, capable, and as powerful on the training field as he was in the saddle. He was a warrior’s warrior, and the tournaments he had won since his coming of age numbered in the hundreds. Men instinctively trusted him and listened to his counsel.
And Miyoshi had idolized him since the day he had crawled over to her cradle and pulled himself up to peer within.
Six months younger than Raven, Miyoshi had tagged along behind him since learning how to crawl like a faithful puppy. They had shared food and measles and colds, chicken pox and mumps and stolen wine from the cellar.
And Miyoshi Shimota had every intention of sharing the rest of her life with this beautiful man.
Even if it meant hiring an assassin to rid her of the threat of Joining with Riain Cree.
Chapter 10
* * *
Queen Christina Cree paced the sunlit solarium of her hostess, the Empress Mariah Shimota, as the
Empress sat watching. The two women had been friends since childhood and had taken their initiations into the Daughters of the Multitude at the same time. Though it had been nearly ten years since the two had been able to meet face-to-face, they regularly exchanged long letters. Companions in their youth, they were devoted friends in their adult years.
"What concerns you the most, Christy?" Mariah inquired softly.
Christine stopped pacing and turned to her friend. "I am not upset with your daughter, Mariah," she was quick to say. "If she loves the Saur boy, then she should be allowed to Join with him."
Mariah winced. "Keito will not allow our only daughter to Join beneath her station in life."
"Pompous ass," Christine pronounced. "Didn’t I tell you not to marry him?"
The Empress smiled. "You did not take into account that I loved him."
"I loved my Rysalian stallion, but I did not marry him!"
"Some of our friends said you did the next best thing and married a Chalean." Mariah giggled, putting a delicate hand to her lips.
Christine made a decidedly unladylike snort, rolled her eyes, then recommenced pacing. Hands clenched behind her back, skirts swishing, the Queen of Chale was a study in agitation. "I cannot believe they allowed that crazy woman to go free!"
"What did the Oracle tell you when you went to the Shadowlands?"
Riain’s mother flung out a dismissive hand. "She bid me not question the will of the gods and Their ladies, but this is one time I refuse to sit idly by when my child is in danger." She locked gazes with Mariah. "And yours as well!"
Mariah looked down at her lap. "Aye, mine," she agreed, closing her eyes to the danger in which Miyoshi had been placed.
"Do you blame Riain for this?"
The Empress snapped up her head. "No, of course not!"
"Most women would."
"I am not most women, Christy, and neither are you."
Christine shrugged. "Yet I’ve been of little help to my son these past years."
"Stop blaming yourself for Riain’s abduction," Mariah chastised. "You were ill and—"
"Not paying attention!" Christine said fiercely. "Had I not been so concerned with my own ailment, I would have been able to stop Riain from venturing out that day." Tears filled her eyes. "And he would not have been imprisoned in the Labyrinth!"
"We can not watch our children every minute of every hour of their lives. The gods, Themselves, put such obstacles in the paths of Their charges. What will be, will be!"
"And if Miyoshi dies at the hand of that demented Northzoner bitch?" Christine grated. "Will you tell me then that it was the gods’ will?"
Mariah shook her head. "But if I have done all that I could to protect her and her life is still forfeit, I will accept what the gods have decreed."
"That’s a bunch of hog spittle!" Christine hissed. She pointed a finger at her friend. "And I thought you had more backbone!"
"What is it you suggest we do?" Mariah threw back. "Our children are in danger and neither of us wants something to happen." She came to her feet, her slight frame trembling with the adrenaline rush of confrontation. "What do we do?"
"Make another trek to the Shadowlands."
"We have both journeyed there. We have beseeched the Oracle and asked for the Great Lady’s help. What more can we do?"
Christine’s eyes narrowed to thin slits of vengeance. "We seek retribution for that one at Vent du Nord!"
Mariah’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes widened. "You can’t be serious!"
"Deadly serious."
"No," Mariah whispered, her lovely face blanched of color. "Whatsoever good we do will be returned threefold, but evil…" She shuddered, then lifted her gaze to Christine. "The evil will be returned tenfold."
"I’ll take that chance."
"No! The rebound might not be on us, but on our children. Have you not thought of that?"
Christine grabbed her friend. She punctuated her words with savage little jerks on Mariah’s forearm. "We can not stand idly by while that virago at Vent du Nord sends assassins after your daughter and kidnappers after my son! We must do something now!"
Mariah jerked away her arm, rubbed at her bruised flesh. "Let the men handle it. Keito has sent his warrior’s after Miyoshi. Your Aidan is having Riain watched. No one can get within a ten-mile radius of your son."
"Will you go with me or not?" Christine asked.,
"I will not."
The two stared at one another for a long moment, then Christine nodded. "I know you are frightened for your child, and I respect that. All I ask is that you do nothing to hinder my magik should I be given a way to rid the world of Suzanna de Viennes."
"The Oracle will not help you in this. Mark my words. What will you do, then, Christine?"
Christine Wynth Cree could not answer, for she knew had she told Mariah her alternate plan, the woman would have had her thrown into the dungeon for her own protection.
"I kept my child from being Joined to that whore after she seduced him. The Oracle saw fit to grant my request. I see no reason she would deny me now when Riain’s life and the life of a fellow Daughter’s child is at stake."
"Be careful, Christy. You do not always keep the clearest head when angry."
Christine’s expression softened. She put her arms around the diminutive Ionarian woman. "Don’t worry. I’ll protect our children."
***
Seldom had the Oracle ever turned down a request from Christine Cree—but this time, the Omnipotent Entity who controlled the Shadowlands of the Daughters of the Multitude squelched all hopes the Chalean queen had regarding effectively stopping the lethal plans of Suzanna de Viennes.
"The gods have spoken, Daughter," the Oracle chastised Christine, "and you must allow Their will to go forth as planned."
"How can you stand by and allow one of our own to be murdered?" Christine challenged.
"It is not of my doing, Daughter." The Oracle seemed as saddened by the coming tragedy as Christine. "But Mariah Shimota’s sacrifice will not be in vain."
Leaving the Shadowlands with a broken heart and a mind seething with revenge, Christine fled to her native Oceania. It was here on the black sand beach of her childhood that she sat, arms encircling her raised knees, and stared out to sea, tears flooding her vision. She was Miyoshi’s godmother, and though she had not seen the child since the christening, Christine would have been her sponsor into the Daughterhood when the girl turned of age.
"I cannot allow this to happen," Christine said as she batted away the scalding tears. Overhead a gull screeched in commiseration.
Since her own sisterhood had refused to help, there was but one avenue to which Christine could turn and she was loath to make the first step in that direction. Yet she saw no other option, no path to tread to a safer solution to her problem. With her heart heavy and fear flooding her mouth with a sharp metallic taste, she lowered her head and wept bitterly.
"There is no other way," she cried. "No other way."
* * *
Rhiannon Chastayne did not look up as the door opened. The magik sayer sat hunched over her cauldron, fanning the rising fumes as she stared into the bubbling brew. "Seat yourself, Milady," the witch known as the Windweaver bid her visitor. "I am almost finished."
Christine looked about, her nose crinkling at the condition of the quarters. The windows were grimy and the rushes needed changing on the floor. Combined with the stench coming from the cauldron, the smell of mold and mildew combined to make the Christine nauseous and a bit dizzy.
"You had no trouble finding your way here?"
"No trouble," Christine mumbled as she sat on the edge of the room’s only chair. She looked around, half afraid something would scuttle out from amongst the rushes to run up her skirt.
"Is it true what they say about World’s End?" Christine asked, then wished she hadn’t, for the woman turned to face her.
"What is it they say?"
Christine looked away from the keen green eyes f
astened on her. "That once you enter the keep’s doors, you can never leave."
Rhiannon smiled. "Aye, ’tis true." She went back to her stirring. "And be glad it is."
"How so?" Christine asked, a frown creasing her forehead.
"It is of no matter." The Windweaver withdrew the ladle from the cauldron and hung the heavy wrought iron utensil on a hook beside the fire. While using her apron to wipe the moisture of the fumes from her hands, she walked to the dirty window and looked out. "You have brought me the required payment."
Christine hesitated. She stared down at her hands. "There are those who fear you."
"Fear," Rhiannon said, turning from the window. "Aye, there are those who fear me and with good reason."
"How so?" Christine could hear her heart thundering behind her rib cage; her palms were wet with perspiration. She was one of those who feared the Windweaver, though to her knowledge, she had no reason to.
"He is most beloved of your get, is he not?"
Christine blinked. "You mean Riain?"
Rhiannon nodded.
"I love all my sons."
"Aye, but this one you love more than the other three. Is that not true?"
Christine squirmed. She hated to admit that she loved one of her four sons more than the others, but Riain did hold a special place in her heart. Perhaps, she thought, it was because he was the youngest. Or because he had suffered as her other sons had not. Or maybe it was simply because he required more attention than his brothers.
"You need not answer," Rhiannon said. "I can see the way of it." She walked to the cauldron. "Do you have my payment?"
Christine felt the presence of the packet in her pocket. The weight had been heavy as she made her way to the witch’s hut. Her imagination working overtime, she could almost feel the thing burning a hole in the material.
"Please give it to me," Rhiannon commanded.
Christine hesitated, fearing the consequences of her actions in dealing with the Windweaver and her ilk. It was said these women had been about even longer than the Daughters of the Multitude and had been causing trouble for mankind since the spark of First Light.
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