Beneath the Thirteen Moons

by Kathryne Kennedy

  “And I won’t look at you,” she added, staring past his shoulder. It was her only defense against his allure and she knew she’d best get in the habit of avoiding his gaze if she wanted to keep any of her self control.

  His voice gentled to a whisper. “What happens when I look at you water-rat? What are you so afraid of?”

  Mahri didn’t appreciate the husky tone of his voice, even if her body did, already responding to it with shivering warmth.

  “As if you don’t know,” she snapped. She pointed at his half sister, hoping to distract him from his determined attempts to stroke her arm. “Is that S’raya?”

  Korl turned and looked across the table while he joined in the applause as the bone-dancer finished her performance.

  “How did you know?”

  “She’s been looking at me with enough venom to make a viper proud.”

  Korl laughed. He’d been doing that a lot, this evening. “She’s been foiled again, you see.”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t know anything about anyone around here. I sense all kinds of currents but can’t fathom them. I don’t belong here, Korl.”

  His fingers traced a pattern through the fine hair along her arm. “You will—just give it time. And I’ll help you in any way that I can.”

  He caught her hand and cradled it in his own. Mahri stared at her palm while he traced a finger lightly along the creases. It pleasure-tickled.

  “Your arrogant self-confidence will get you killed one of these days,” she predicted, hoping to shake him up, just a little.

  He laughed again. “It’s what keeps me alive.” His voice deepened. “It’s what got me you.” His fingers traced a circular pattern on her palm and against her will she spread out her hand to give him better access. She hadn’t known her skin could be so sensitive there.

  Korl stroked and caressed while he spoke, but as she wished didn’t look at her. “The king named S’raya as successor when they couldn’t find me. As first-born with Master Tolerance I will inherit the crown. I have a younger brother, older than S’raya, but he doesn’t have Master tolerance for zabba. As next eldest with enough Power to rule, S’raya would inherit.” He grinned. “They all assumed I’d died after so long in the swamps. They couldn’t know I had you to look after me.”

  Mahri humphed. He’d saved her life more than once and he knew it. Was he trying to remind her of that? If so, he was more devious than she’d ever thought, this charmingly sincere man.

  “Anyway,” Korl continued, “I’m the only one in the way of S’raya’s schemes for the crown. When you kidnapped me she thought her dreams had come true. And she didn’t even have to kill me herself.”

  Mahri gasped. He said it so matter-of-fact.

  Korl shrugged. “She would’ve you know, with that boyfriend of hers, when they chased after us in the cove. If it weren’t for you.” His fingers stilled on her palm. “But now I’m back and all her plans for power are ruined. Father plans to announce the change of succession tomorrow.”

  “Aren’t you afraid she’ll try to… kill you again?”

  “No. Are you?” She pulled away her hand. He caught it and settled it back on his thigh. Strong fingers stroked her palm again. “Sorry. Couldn’t help but wonder. Anyway, if I should die within the confines of the palace, with wards of Power everywhere, she’d be the first suspect and wouldn’t stand a chance for the crown, even if somehow proven innocent. S’raya’s unscrupulous, but not stupid.”

  Mahri fought against him a moment, their hands struggling under the table, both of them looking anywhere but at each other. Then Korl realized that she wanted his hand on her own thigh and began to stroke her fingers across his palm.

  His breath caressed her ear for a moment. “That feels incredible.”

  Mahri bit her lip. He still obeyed her, not looking at her face anyway, but his eyes were fastened to where the neckline of her gown arched in a deep vee. She’d thought her chest had felt uncommonly warm.

  “Stop that,” she snapped.

  He let out an exaggerated sigh.

  “That doesn’t explain,” Mahri continued, stroking his palm in an almost-apology, “why S’raya looks at me with such hatred.”

  “You were her only hope.”

  Mahri’s fingers stilled when he didn’t continue and began to stroke only when he spoke again.

  “All right. She thought that my marrying a water-rat would change my father’s mind about the succession.”

  She dug her nails into his palm. “How so?”

  “Let go of my—you’ve got claws like a treecat!” He shook his hand in mock pain and laughed. “I’ll be scarred all over from loving you.”

  “Aya.”

  “And enjoy every minute of it. Don’t think you scare me, little girl. Now, somehow S’raya thought that the people wouldn’t accept a root-smuggling-water-rat-Wilding as their future queen, that marrying you would ruin my chances for the succession.”

  Mahri frowned, glancing around at the group of Royals who looked at her as if she were some wild animal, waiting to pounce on them. “And it hasn’t?”

  “Of course not.” A layer of hauteur settled over his shoulders. “The people know that I’ll make a better ruler than S’raya, regardless of my chosen lifemate.”

  Mahri jerked to her feet. She’d never felt so belittled. Her mouth gaped like a fish out of water as she gathered the breath to tell him exactly what she thought of him. Korl’s face tightened and he caught her arm and dragged her to the dance floor. An orchestra had started playing sometime during their conversation, the bone instruments creating a haunting melody that floated around the ornately carved wooden walls.

  Korl twirled her around the polished floor, faster than the music called for, making her pant with the effort of keeping up while she struggled in vain to get free from the circle of his arms.

  “Let me go.”

  “Not until your temper cools.”

  Mahri noted with satisfaction that he gasped for breath as well. Faces spun around her, eyebrows raised and mouths aflutter with speculation.

  “People are staring!”

  She’d almost twisted free when Korl flung her backward in a dip, and she scrambled to hold onto him instead.

  “They’re trying to figure out this new dance of ours.” He yanked her upright, Mahri pushed away from his chest but he caught both her arms, slammed her back against him and they both grunted.

  “Being with you,” he panted, “is like waiting for a whale’s spout to blow.”

  Mahri opened her mouth to curse and he dipped her again.

  “The trick is to anticipate the moment of eruption,” he paused while he spun her twice, “and divert the spray,” another dip, and she heard the bones in her back pop, “in a different direction.”

  The musicians had watched their prince and struck up a tune that had them stomping their feet with the liveliness of it. When Korl whirled her past the stage, Mahri flung the players the filthiest look she could summon.

  “Will you listen now?” panted Korl.

  Mahri didn’t have the wind to reply, so she just nodded her head.

  “S’raya thought, they all thought, that we weren’t really Bonded.” Korl threw her away and back, using her arm like a whip. “After all, it hasn’t been done in generations.”

  He did a sort of trot around the room, bouncing her right along at his side, then came to an abrupt stop and bowed to her. “Now, you’ve made my right for succession even stronger, for you’ve doubled my root-Power. That wouldn’t exactly make you a friend to my sister.”

  Mahri curtsied, aware of all the eyes on them, and tried to stretch out the stitch in her side.

  “I see,” she gasped.

  So that was why he took her as lifemate. To secure the throne. And he thought this confession would make her feel better? When she’d already thought he’d taken her as lifemate just to save her?

  Mahri couldn’t stop the sinking feeling when she realized this, but she could, as al
ways, take refuge in her anger. She cursed him roundly, even using a few of Vissa’s most colorful expressions, until she realized that the music had stopped and her voice echoed throughout an abruptly silent room.

  Korl’s face turned hard as bone, and he nodded toward Master R’in. The old man’s eyes glittered with Power and she found her muscles contracting into an awkward curtsey.

  “You’re overly tired,” announced the prince for the benefit of the watching Royals. “I’m sure you’d like to retire to our rooms.”

  Mahri felt the muscles in her neck wobble, glared at the old man when she felt him lock her jaw. Korl took her hand and kissed it, grazing her skin.

  “If you cannot behave like a lady,” he muttered, “then I must help you do so.”

  Mahri could only glower at him, helpless against Master R’in’s Power. Did he think to turn her into his puppet? To avail himself of her root tolerance when needed, then parade her through the palace under someone else’s control? The bars of her cage were more confining than she could’ve ever imagined.

  Chapter 16

  MAHRI PACED THE SPLENDID LENGTH OF KORL’S ROOMS, ignoring the feel of chi-fur beneath her naked feet, the sumptuous tapestries that covered the walls, the glittering mosaics that adorned picture frames and table legs and wardrobes. All she could think of was the humiliation of being marched from her own reception with her muscles controlled by the Power of Master R’in.

  If she’d harbored any hope that her life in the palace would allow her any amount of freedom, Korl had thoroughly squashed it by giving that command to the Seer. She had to escape this luxurious prison and the man who sought to make her into something she wasn’t. She had only to figure out how.

  Mahri strode over to the balcony, giving the lace dress a savage kick where it lay on the floor. She’d stripped it off so that she only wore the silk pantaloons and thin top of underwear, feeling more comfortable with the ease of movement, but yearning for the sturdier snar-scales of her traveling clothes. She didn’t care who might see the new princess of Sea Forest so scantily clad; she hung onto the railing and let the breeze ripple through her unbound hair while she breathed in great gulps of it.

  The moons had just come out and the canopy of trees glowed beneath their light, throwing shadows in multiple directions. The Palace Tree was the largest, oldest one in the forest and the rooms were carved out of the outer bark at nearly the very top of it, making the view breathtaking with its scope.

  Trapping her within the tree walls with extraordinary effectiveness.

  Jaja, thought Mahri, any luck?

  Her monk-fish answered with a muffled chirrup, dropping an oyster shell full of whipped seaweed. She turned and looked at him.

  You were supposed to be sniffing out zabba, you little scamp. Not your next meal!

  He held out his webbed hands in a helpless gesture and shrugged, his whiskers dripping green goo. He sat on another pink table, much larger than the one in the other room they’d been imprisoned in, with an even greater selection of cold foods and drinks. Mahri sighed. Too much temptation for such a small monk-fish.

  I need zabba to escape, she chided. And your nose is better than mine in seeking it out. Did you try the connecting rooms?

  Jaja shook his head, stole one last look of regret at his interrupted feast, and bounded through an arched entryway.

  She watched him go with a sad smile. It amazed her how easily she took for granted their ease of communication. Before, she knew her pet sensed her feelings and caught a glimmer of her needs, yet she was now convinced that he understood every word she thought at him. And since her overdose, she knew that she’d understand him just as easily if she allowed the removal of that barricade from around her mind.

  Mahri shook her head, still trying to comprehend the alterations within her. It had to be the overdose and the new pathways that had been forged inside her that allowed her to See the thoughts of the creatures of Sea Forest. At first she’d thought that it might be the Bonding that had changed her, but Korl could only See into her mind, he’d never shown any ability with anything or anyone else. Maybe that was why he was so intent on entering her mind again, but she couldn’t allow herself to yield to that final possession. She’d been very… content, with her life. Before Korl.

  As if she’d conjured him up, the double doors opened and the prince of Sea Forest entered the room. He’d removed the jewel-studded jacket, loosened the ties of the silk shirt so that the golden smooth skin of his chest peeked through. His leggings outlined every muscle before disappearing into the top of tall, black boots. Mahri tried very hard to retain her anger at him.

  Korl removed the ceremonial sword from his hip and tossed it outside the room before shutting the doors. “Do you intend to destroy every room I put you in?” he asked as he surveyed the shambles of his apartments.

  Mahri shrugged. She’d desperately searched for zabba before giving up and hoping Jaja would sniff some out. She hadn’t paid any attention to the clothes she’d tossed out of wardrobes, the drawers she’d left open, the cushions she’d overturned.

  Korl grinned and removed the crown of crystal from his head, setting it on a small table shaped like a curled ocean wave and topped with a slab of polished shell. He advanced on her, his face alight with purpose, every movement of his body speaking of his intent to possess her, his words an afterthought to this goal.

  “You have an astonishingly filthy mouth, Mahri Com’nder. Quite inappropriate for a delicate princess.”

  “I’m not…” began Mahri, and then he shook back his head, strands of pale gold curling across his brow, whispering along the collar of his shirt. His lids half-closed, thick lashes shadowing them, smooth neck exposed and vulnerable. She wished she knew how he did that.

  “I’m not a delicate anything, and if that’s what you wanted you should’ve taken a courtier for a mate.” She fisted her hands and advanced on him, refusing to let his virility distract her from her rightful anger. “And if you ever, ever, allow someone to control me again, your next taste of zabba will be your last. For I swear I’ll rip the Power from you so fast you won’t have time to—”

  “I apologize.”

  “Fight me off, and then I’ll—”

  “I said I’m sorry,” he injected again, this time lowering his voice to that deep timbre and brushing his fingers across her cheek.

  Mahri stepped back. “What?”

  “I had to do something and it was the only thing I could think of. Do you have any idea what you were saying?”

  “No.”

  She suddenly realized that a Royal, a prince, no less, was apologizing to a water-rat. A lowly born smuggler and Wilding that wouldn’t even be considered fit to lick his boots. The entire situation reeked of absurdity.

  Korl raked his fingers through his gold hair. “You made Lady Katra faint.”

  “Over just words?”

  “Well, she faints over something at every ball, probably laces her corset too tight, so don’t let it bother you too much. But you had half the men in the room stunned with admiration and every woman red with embarrassment. Where’d you learn to curse like that, anyway?”

  “Vissa.”

  Korl scowled. “I should’ve guessed.” His fingers went from cheek to the side of her neck, and on to play with the thin material across her shoulder. “By the way, you looked beautiful tonight in that dress. But I like you in pants the best.”

  Mahri shivered. His fingers moved so gently across her skin that she gritted her teeth against the pleasure of it. “Don’t try to change the subject. I want your promise that you’ll never do that again.”

  “Agreed, but you’ll also have to make me a promise.”

  “Aya?”

  His hands traveled down her arms, his eyes held her in thrall, and she watched his lips moving with an intense fascination. “Try to control that temper of yours and quit jumping to the wrong conclusions.”

  “Such as?”

  “Thinking that I took you
for lifemate for your Power! It’s obvious to anyone with half a brain that the succession is mine and that would be the last reason I’d take anyone for my mate, Bonded or no. Do you know what the Royals are doing right now?”

  Mahri shook her dark red hair.

  His hands lowered to both sides of her waist, enclosing her with their heat. “They’re placing wagers on us.”

  “Wagers?” Mahri’s eyes were half-closed, her lips opened in unknowing invitation as his hands curved around her back, pulling her forward into the hardness of his body. He’d charmed the anger from her again with his silken words. Or was it that her passion smoldered so close to the surface of her rage?

  “Mmm hmm,” breathed Korl, pulling her pelvis against his loins. “Odds are that one of us won’t survive the wedding night.”

  Mahri reached up and twined a curl of gold around her finger, then plunged her fingers into the mass of his hair with an overwhelming feeling of wicked luxury.

  “That’s ridiculous,” she murmured.

  “Aah, but they think you’re a savage, my dear. Capable of quite anything. They saw lust in your anger, but no love in your eyes. Can you blame them for what they’re thinking?”

  And he didn’t wait for a reply, so impatient with words that he swung her into his arms and carried her through the archway.

  “Jaja, get lost,” he commanded.

  Her pet looked up, saw the edge of that pink food-laden table through the doorway, then lifted an inquiring brow at his mistress. Mahri held onto Korl, her arms wrapped around his neck and the musky scent of him filling her senses. They’d come so close to joining again that she should’ve known it would only be a matter of time. But she’d always imagined them together in the swamps, not in a palace bed… in a place where she no longer felt like she knew him.

  Jaja chirruped with impatience, wanting that food but unable to move until she reassured him that she wanted him to go. She felt Korl’s eyes on her but refused to meet them, instead her gaze focused on the carvings on the headboard of the bed. Swirls of water and a pod of narwhal floated across the surface of it; fisjewels, glittering scales, and pearls embedded in the design. The open sea, where no boundaries limited freedom.