Children of the Sun

by Linda Winstead Jones

  If she were not so pure, would Ciro still want her? Could she somehow make herself unattractive to him, and in doing so save herself from his intentions? Surely there were other women in Columbyana and beyond who possessed the pure soul Ciro seemed to need, women who would welcome his attentions.

  No. Rayne shuddered. No decent woman would welcome those attentions, not from one such as Ciro had become.

  She did want to marry and have children someday, but she did not want them to be Ciro’s children. She certainly did not wish to share a bed with him.

  Though she was a quiet and well-behaved woman, Rayne had always kept her eyes and ears open. In the past there had been many female servants living in this house. Her father had even kept a mistress here for a short while, but that odd woman had left in the middle of the night and never returned. In listening to the other women in the house as they spoke of personal matters, Rayne had discerned that lovemaking could be nice enough if the man was gentle and thoughtful.

  Ciro would be neither, she suspected.

  The man she studied now, the man who held her life in his hands... she wasn’t yet entirely certain about him, but she did not believe him to be evil, as Ciro was.

  Hours passed, and Lyr Hern did not move from his chair, did not seem anxious about whether or not his men would find what they sought above stairs. The light outside Rayne’s tiny window died as night fell. Gradually, the sounds from above lessened, as the men from Tryfyn ran out of places to destroy and search.

  Segyn, the stocky bald man, finally came downstairs. The failure was easy to read on his face. “Nothing, my lord.” His eyes flickered to her. “Should I pry the truth from her?”

  It was a fear Rayne had not yet thought to suffer, that they might try to force the information from her through torture or intimidation. Fortunately she did not suffer that fear for very long, as Lyr shook his head.

  “No. In the morning, Rayne will lead us to the dagger and we will escort her to a place of safety, as she requests.” With that, he turned to head for the stairs. “Don’t leave her alone. Set up a watch so that she is under constant guard.”

  “You plan to wait until morning?” Rayne snapped, yanking once against her chains. “You’re going to leave me here all night?”

  At the foot of the stairs, Lyr stopped and turned to face her. “You claim to have been here for many months.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then one more night should be of no consequence. Your chains allow you to reach that comfortable-looking bed, and I spot a chamber pot beneath that bed. In a short while I will send down food for you and your guard. Everything you need is here, and knowing you are where you should be will allow me to get a good night’s sleep.”

  Rayne pursed her lips. “You can trust me. You can—”

  “Can I?” he interrupted. “No, I don’t believe I can trust you, Rayne, daughter of Fynnian, betrothed of Ciro.”

  She could argue that she had chosen to be neither, but Lyr appeared to be a man who did not change his mind often. “I will see you in the morning, then,” she said calmly, moving toward her bed. She could endure one more night in this basement. She could wait a few hours before making her escape.

  All that was left was to find a way to hide from Prince Ciro. Forever.

  ***

  Once morning arrived and Rayne was free of her chains, she became more obstinate, insisting that things be done her way. Lyr could’ve insisted with the tip of his sword that she immediately uncover the crystal dagger, but he did not. He studied her, trying to discern the true aspects of her personality. After all, he would be traveling with her for some time, in order to deliver her to a safe place. Where would that place be? He was not very familiar with Columbyana, aside from the few places he had been to visit family. Perhaps he could take her to the Southern Province and Aunt Sophie’s family, but that was very much out of his way if he was to rejoin General Merin and the emperor’s sentinels in the fight against Ciro.

  Til stood guard at Rayne’s door as she bathed and changed her clothes. His men had searched the house well, and there were broken pieces of furniture and holes in the walls to mark their passage. It was a shame, since this had obviously once been a very nice house. In the current situation, that could not be considered of any importance. Ciro had to be stopped, and the weapon which was hidden in this house was necessary.

  Lyr paced in the hallway, patient at first, then less and less so as time passed. They needed to retrieve the dagger and begin their travels. Taking the woman would slow them down, and they did not have a moment to waste. He was to collect the dagger, rejoin Merin, and then march on Ciro.

  According to the Prophesy of the Firstborn, it would be Lyr who took the demon’s life with the crystal dagger. It was his destiny to destroy Rayne’s betrothed. Perhaps it would be best that she not realize his purpose in seeking out the dagger.

  Finally, she emerged from her room looking fresher and somehow daintier than she had when she’d entered. The dark blue gown she wore was, thank goodness, well suited to travel. The skirt was full to accommodate sitting a saddle and it was not too long; he could see her ankles above low-cut and apparently sturdy boots. Her hair had been pulled back and up in a simple style which would not require constant care. Perhaps Rayne was not entirely senseless, her association with Ciro aside.

  Even though she had dressed sensibly, Rayne didn’t look at all sturdy. She would not be able to travel at the pace to which he and his men were accustomed, and they could not afford to be slowed in their travels. The sooner he found a place to deposit her, the better.

  “The dagger?” he said simply.

  She looked him in the eye. “Give me your word that you will escort me to a place of safety.”

  “Again?”

  “Yes, again. You have made it clear that you don’t trust me. Why should I trust you so easily?”

  “I give you my word, again. I’m of the opinion that you have little choice but to take me at that word.”

  Rayne’s chin lifted. She appeared slightly defiant and very annoyed. “Follow me.”

  She led the way down the hallway, taking her sweet time, walking regally and with a gentle sway of her hips. She walked past disassembled tables and broken vases as if all was as it had been and should be. No, he did not trust her, but she was quite a woman in her own unique way. Why had Keelia not warned him of her? Why had she not told him that he would meet a woman who was trustworthy? Or not. If the danger was great, surely his cousin would’ve seen some warning. No, Rayne was nothing more than an annoyance, and he did not need the guidance of a seer to know how to handle that annoyance. He would keep his word, but he would also locate the place of safety she sought as soon as possible.

  Rayne led him and the others into a large bedroom which was in shambles. She sighed as she surveyed the room, but did not stop to study what had once been a fine bedchamber. Part of the sad state was due to his men and their search, but there was long neglect at work here also. The men who had been living here for a long period of time, Ciro’s Own, he assumed, had not been concerned with cleaning during their time in this house.

  Rayne pushed aside a broken chair and gently kicked away a table leg. The tapestry which had once hung on the stone wall before her already lay on the floor, dusty and torn. “This was my mother’s room,” she explained as her pale fingers traced the grout between large gray stones. “After she died, my father refused to allow anyone to change things. He was not a loving man, but I do believe he cared for her in his own way. Otherwise, he would’ve turned the room into a study or a library, he would’ve married again and put another woman here, don’t you think?”

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  Lyr had walked with her into the room, but his men remained in the hall and at the doorway. “I have no idea what your father was like, nor do I care. He aligned himself with Ciro, that is all I need to know of him.”

  Again, Rayne sighed. “Are all men so dreadfully single-minded?” />
  Lyr did not bother to answer as Rayne’s hand stilled on the wall.

  “It’s been a long time since I opened this secret hiding place. There are many like it throughout the house, but this one was my mother’s. My father was a bit distrustful, and he kept many secrets.”

  “Even from you?” Lyr asked.

  “Always from me,” Rayne said so softly Lyr was certain that only he heard her response. “My mother kept her own secrets, but she shared them with me. I haven’t been in this room for many years, but I remember well the last time we were here together.” Her fingers pressed and then slapped again seemingly ordinary stone. She worked at the stone above and below the one she had chosen, with no results. “I know it’s right here,” she said, frustration creeping into her voice.

  Lyr began to suspect that he’d been tricked. There was no secret hiding place, and this woman had no idea where the crystal dagger was hidden. Perhaps she thought he would take her with him in any case. Perhaps she thought him incapable of returning her to her basement prison. If that was her way of thinking, she did not know him at all. He would send someone back to release her when he was a few hours away, but if she did not produce the dagger, he would not take her with him.

  Not that he could afford to leave this house without the crystal dagger.

  “Rubbish,” Rayne snapped, slapping her hand against the stone wall.

  If all else had not been silent, Lyr would not have heard the gentle clicking noise or Rayne’s sharp intake of breath. She worked at the stone again, and this time it swung open. The stone—which was not a proper stone at all—was hollow, and inside there rested a large blue gem on the end of a gold chain. He saw no weapon of any kind.

  Rayne reached into the space. She took the necklace in her hand, and studied the gem as she removed it. “This was my mother’s,” she said softly. “She always said it would be mine one day. I had almost forgotten it.” She dropped the jewel into a deep pocket of her gown, and then she reached again into the hollow in the wall, her hand delving into the shadows.

  With reverence, she removed a weighty object wrapped in purple velvet. She held it with both hands, though it was not very large and did not appear to be horribly heavy. Rayne turned, and offered the object to him on outstretched hands. “If my memory has served me well, this is what you seek.”

  Lyr stepped forward and took the purple-wrapped object from Rayne’s hand. She seemed oddly glad to be rid of it. With his back to his men, Lyr peeled away the fine fabric. Sunlight streaming through an uncovered window hit the crystal and blinded him for a moment. He closed his eyes and turned about so his body would block the sunlight, and with dots dancing before his eyes, he looked down at the weapon in his hand.

  He had never seen anything like it, and for a moment he was awestruck. The hilt and the blade were carved from one piece of crystal. In some places the crystal was murky gray and pink, in others it was completely clear. The blade seemed to be very sharp, and he wondered how such a weapon had been crafted without destroying the stone from which it was made. It appeared to be fragile and mighty at the same time.

  The colors inside the crystal began to move, drifting like clouds across the sky. A moment later the weapon spoke to him in a voice only he could hear. In his mind it whispered, I have been waiting for you, Prince of Swords.

  Lyr quickly rewrapped the weapon, and once it had been covered, the voice—and the certainty that the weapon was alive—was stilled.

  “My mother made that dagger,” Rayne said in a lowered voice.

  “How?”

  “I remember watching her work,” Rayne said. “She began with a large crystal and gently worked away those pieces which were not necessary to the finished weapon, or so she said. Late at night in my room, by early morning’s light in the garden... she worked.”

  “To what purpose?” Lyr asked.

  For a moment he thought Rayne would not answer, and then she said, “My mother was very much opposed to violence of any kind, but she said one day this weapon would be needed.” Rayne shrugged her shoulders. “I was young. That is all I remember.” She looked him in the eye. “I have never trusted another with this secret, but I trust you, Lyr Hern. Do not disappoint me.”

  Lyr did not want to be made to feel as if he owed this woman anything. “You mentioned that there are other such hiding places in this house,” he said sharply, ignoring her offer of trust.

  “A few, if they have not been found and ravaged in my father’s absence.”

  “Show Segyn where they are.” He turned to his first in command. “Use your discretion in choosing what to take and what to leave behind.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Segyn responded. “M’lady, after you.” He gave Rayne a sweeping bow and stepped aside so she could move into the hallway.

  When he was alone, Lyr studied the object in his hand. He considered unwrapping the weapon to see if it would speak again when revealed, but in the end he decided not to.

  He had always known that the crystal dagger he was meant to collect would possess some magic, but he had never expected that it had a life of its own.

  ***

  Keelia was anxious to leave the palace in Arthes, but she had vowed to remain with her cousin Ariana as long as she was needed, and she was still very much needed.

  When they’d arrived at the palace weeks earlier, Ariana’s first responsibility had been to dispatch her younger sister Sibyl and their brother Bronsyn. Their brother Duran, who had returned to Ariana’s army in the company of Lyr and a handful of Circle warriors, was to escort his younger siblings to safety before returning to the fight. Duran, a fine sentinel, was still irked that Ariana had sent him away before marching off to fight Ciro, but that didn’t stop him from doing as he had been told. Keelia suspected that he’d expressed his anger to Ariana privately, but would not allow others to witness his demonstration of emotion.

  Sibyl had served her purpose, keeping the emperor alive even though her talents as a healer were not enhanced as Ariana’s were. The younger sister did have healing gifts, and she’d used them well.

  Emperor Arik was now remarkably restored. It had taken more than one healing session with Ariana, and the sessions always left her horribly drained. But they had worked well, and Arik was fit once again.

  Still, Keelia saw death around him. No matter what she or Ariana did, he would not live to see the first snow of winter.

  Keelia stood at the window of her fine suite and looked to the east. “He watches,” she said softly. “He watches and waits.”

  Joryn came up behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist. “Do we stay here and fight him?”

  “No.” Some things were meant to be and there was nothing to be done to change them. Some decisions made for the right reasons would lead to disaster. “Ariana is most desperately needed with the sentinels. Much as she would like to stay here and keep watch over her emperor, it is not meant to be.” She glanced over her shoulder, glad for the strength Joryn gave her. “She cannot save him from what is meant to be, and neither can we.”

  All they could do was warn Arik that Ciro was no longer his son, that the thing inhabiting his child’s body was a demon bent on destruction. The emperor’s guards could be warned, the emperor himself could be warned, but in the end it wouldn’t matter.

  Ciro was coming, and he would take the palace.

  Chapter Three

  Since Lyr and his men never bothered to ask if one of those oddly disguised hiding places had been located in her bedchamber, Rayne didn’t feel as if she were lying when she neglected to guide them to it. It wasn’t as if what she’d retrieved from that particular space was of any consequence to them. They were personal items, keepsakes which had belonged to her mother. A few pieces of jewelry. A journal her mother had kept when she’d first married—a journal Rayne had read again and again, each time becoming entranced by the words which were filled with light, filled with the woman she remembered.

  Words which abruptly stopped,
midway through the journal. Rayne had often wondered why, but in her heart she knew. At this point, her mother had realized what kind of man she’d taken as her husband, and she no longer wished to preserve her dreams and thoughts. The journal of those happier days was a wonderful remembrance of her mother.

  The jewelry she might need to sell in order to survive, at least for a while.

  Since Rayne had never been beyond the boundaries of her father’s land, she wasn’t sure how she would live after Lyr and his men left her in a safe but strange place. Perhaps someone would take her on as a housemaid, or she could find work on a farm of some sort. She’d always loved working outdoors, tending her garden and watching things grow, and she really wasn’t afraid of hard work. Yes, that seemed almost an ideal solution. A farm. A simpler life.

  First, she had to make her way down the mountain, and that was not as easy as she had thought it would be. While she had ridden on occasion, her outings had been limited to a small enclosed field beyond her garden. She was not an accomplished or adventurous horsewoman, and the trail which led from the house where she’d lived her entire life to the valley below was steep and treacherous. She held on to the saddle horn tightly, waiting for the moment when she’d be thrown from the gentle mare.

  Neither Lyr nor any of his men seemed to have trouble keeping their balance. They did not slip and slide, they did not even wobble. Annoying as he was, she could not help but think that she’d chosen wisely in picking her rescuer. Lyr Hern was more than capable. The dagger her mother had fashioned was in good hands.

  Her entire life was about to change. Rayne was certain, deep in her heart, that she would never make the journey back up this mountain to the only home she had ever known. Her father had left here with Ciro, and she had no doubt that the man who claimed her as his beloved was not only dark, but evil. Wrong to the pit of his soul. Even if her father managed to come to his senses and extricate himself from the prince, a return to their previous lifestyle would not be possible. Unless Lyr and those he fought alongside defeated Ciro completely, she would never be entirely safe.