Children of the Sun

by Linda Winstead Jones

  The Isen Demon wished the woman to be pure in all ways, but was it already too late for that?

  No, the demon whispered. Emperor Ciro is concerned with purity of the body. I care most ardently for the brightness of her soul. That is what matters to the babe she will carry.

  Phelan cared nothing for Ciro and what he wanted, but he did want to please the Isen Demon. How else could he get all that he wanted when the world turned to darkness?

  “Now?” Phelan whispered. “Do I take her now?”

  Soon. When the opportunity arises, take it. Kill the warriors, take the woman, bury the crystal dagger deep.

  Soon. Phelan was anxious to make his move, but considering what Lyr was capable of... he had to plan carefully. While the other slept, perhaps. Then again, if he could catch the Prince of Swords unaware, that would do just as well. His limbs tingled with excitement as they rode away from the mass grave where the woman had demonstrated her magical ability, an ability she claimed she’d known nothing about until this very day.

  He was not concerned by the demonstration of magic. Forcing a plant to bloom out of season couldn’t exactly be used as a weapon, not against him and certainly not against the Isen Demon.

  Soon.

  He could hardly wait, and in truth—why should he? The sooner he had the others out of the way and Rayne in his grasp, the sooner his charade could end. Yes, it was time.

  ***

  It had been difficult for Lyr to keep his questions to himself as they traveled well past dark. It would not do for his men to realize how curious he was about Rayne’s supposedly newly discovered powers. How could she have possessed such a gift and not known about it until now? She’d mentioned often that she kept a garden. Did she not find it unusual that she could ask her plants to grow and they obeyed?

  He needed to know the details of her gift. Was she a fertility witch like Aunt Sophie? Would she get pregnant if he sneezed in her direction, or were her gifts exclusively directed to plant life? He had given little thought to babies when he’d lain with her. It wasn’t as if women regularly found themselves with child after one night. Yes, that was possible, but he considered it unlikely.

  Unless she was like Aunt Sophie.

  Segyn and Swaine slept, and Til kept watch. Even though their journey had been uneventful, they were all unsettled by the day’s findings. The destroyed village, the sense of dread that still lived there, they reminded them all of what they were fighting against, and how difficult that fight would be.

  Rayne tried to go to sleep, but it was obvious by the way she tossed and turned on the ground that she was not sleeping—and sleep was not coming anytime soon. The discovery of her father’s body and the revelation—or unintentional display—of her magical talents left her unsettled.

  Lyr was a bit unsettled himself, truth be told.

  He made his way to her by moonlight alone. His night vision was quite sharp, and on a night like this one there was no need for a fire. So far their journey had been blessed with good weather and a lack of obstacles, but he didn’t think that was likely to last.

  He leaned down, knowing Rayne was awake. “I would have a word with you,” he whispered.

  She rolled over to look up and directly at him. Yes, she appeared to be innocent enough. “A word?”

  “A word.” He offered his hand to assist her, and she took it. That simple touch, her hand in his, was like taking lightning into his palm. On his palm and in his blood and into every nerve of his body. He tried very hard not to let his reaction show. His response was entirely physical in any case, and in the end unimportant.

  He drew Rayne to her feet and led her away from the camp. They would not go far, but he didn’t wish to wake those who slept. Til watched as Lyr and Rayne walked away from the small camp. He nodded in acknowledgment, and then glanced at the sleeping soldiers. Tonight his job was an easy one, and he was likely grateful for it after a day which had not been at all easy.

  Lyr and Rayne walked into the deeper shadows of a forest, where the leaves were turning red and gold and blue. Soon those leaves would fall and cover the ground and the trees would be bare, but on this night the trees were lushly alive.

  “You said you had no magic,” Lyr said, his voice soft and accusing.

  “I didn’t. At least, not that I knew of.”

  “You made those plants grow and bloom. Is that not magic?”

  “Of course it is, but it’s not something I’ve ever been able to do in the past.” She bit her lower lip. “Not that I was aware of, in any case. Maybe it’s my father’s bracelet or his ring.”

  “You have them on you?”

  “Yes. Tiller said it was all right. He helped me—”

  “I told you to take nothing,” Lyr interrupted. He’d told Til, too. Everything about that ruined village reeked of darkness, and it should’ve all been buried with the remains.

  “I have nothing of my father but for those two things,” Rayne argued. “Surely it can’t matter—”

  “They come from a dark place, Rayne. You realize that as well as I do.”

  She dropped her head. “The truth is I might need them to live on, once you leave me elsewhere. I have some of my mother’s jewels, but I don’t know how long the proceeds from their sale might last.”

  He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look him in the eye. “I will not let you starve or live beneath yourself,” he promised. “I will not simply drop you in a strange place and leave you to your own devices.”

  “I thought that was the plan,” she said. “How else am I to hide myself?”

  “I don’t have all the answers,” Lyr said, “but I do know that I won’t leave you.” He felt his brow knit. “Was that the reason you asked me to have sex with you? Did you know that once that was done, I would feel responsible for you to the pit of my soul?”

  “No,” she whispered. She lifted her skirt. Even in the dark, he could see the fabric bag that was strapped to her thigh. She carried her valuables much as he carried the crystal dagger, close against the skin.

  She opened the bag and drew out the two gold pieces. “Do you really think there’s darkness in these?”

  “Yes, I do. I learned at an early age that good and evil both remain in the things they touch.”

  Rayne did not ask again. She drew back her hand and threw the jewelry she’d taken from her father’s body deep into the forest. The gold pieces made soft sounds as they broke through limbs and leaves and finally landed on the ground a good distance away.

  “If they are the reason for my ability, then it is now done,” she said without regret.

  “If they’re not?”

  Rayne placed one hand on Lyr’s chest. “Maybe it was you. Us, more rightly. I swear, I did feel as if I reached another place in my very soul when I... I... well, when we...”

  “After what we shared, I would say there is no need for shyness.”

  “I suppose there’s not.” She took a deep breath. “The pleasure I experienced in your arms was not only of the body, it touched my soul. I felt it there, I’m sure of it. Perhaps my gift was resting there until you roused it.”

  “That is unlikely.”

  “Is it? Is that theory any more unlikely than a magic that might’ve been trapped in two pieces of gold?” Her hand settled boldly on his penis, and he grew quickly. “I believe there is more magic in what we shared than in any wizard’s words or talismans. I believe the magic of the universe might awaken at the soft sound of two bodies coming together.”

  “It was only—” Lyr began.

  “It wasn’t only anything,” she said breathlessly. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you have not thought endlessly of being inside me again.”

  It had not been his intention, when he’d led Rayne into the darkness, to do anything but talk. But the way she touched him, the way she spoke so seductively and innocently, changed his intentions.

  “Do you want me now?” he whispered, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck.<
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  “I do, more than ever. More than I thought was possible.”

  There was no soft bed, no undressing or arousing or games. He was hard, she was wet, and it seemed they tumbled together without thought or design. She freed him, he lifted her skirt, and moments later he took her with rough tree bark at her back and her thighs wrapped about his hips.

  Last night her room had been dark. Tonight the moonlight illuminated her, and her worse-for-wear traveling dress covered the skin he longed to see. He had touched her delicate flesh, he had reveled in it, but he wished to see. He wished to see the swell of her breasts as well as touch. He wished to study the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip. Even now he could be still and remove her gown, showing patience and restraint and care, but he did not.

  Lost in her tight warmth, he forgot all else. There was no gentle instruction of a virgin, not tonight. It was as if they’d become animals, as if they’d lost control and obeyed the commands of their bodies without the interference of their minds. Lyr never lost control. Never.

  If losing control meant this kind of intense pleasure, he should allow himself the satisfaction more often.

  Rayne moved against him, she moaned as she ground her hips against his and very quickly found release. She gasped and clutched at his hair. Her thighs tightened around him and he felt her tremble in every bone of her fine body. Her inner muscles spasmed around him and he climaxed in response.

  To the soul, she’d said, and at the moment he could not argue with her. This was certainly unlike any controlled, well-planned liaison he’d shared with any woman in the past.

  As Lyr returned to the world, he noticed that leaves fell all around their joined bodies. Red leaves, plump and colorful, dropped en masse, though the color was not easy to see at night. Rayne lifted her face and smiled as the leaves rained down.

  She took his face in her hands and kissed him. The kiss was deep and enthusiastic and filled with emotion. Her lips danced over his, her tongue fluttered and explored. The rustle of falling leaves surrounded them, and Lyr felt them pile up at his feet. He heard a sharp cracking sound, a crackling of the bark as the tree grew more quickly than was natural. The rustling sound was like the wind, or the rush of a brook, but there was no wind, no rushing water. There was only Rayne, daughter of the dead wizard Fynnian, betrothed to Ciro, lover to Prince of Swords.

  “I do not think it was my father’s gold that awakened my magic,” Rayne whispered as the leaves fell. After a hard day where there had been no joy, Lyr heard joy in her voice.

  ***

  Rayne was glad to put miles between herself and the village where her father had died. As she rode along, she wondered if Lyr had any idea that he had helped her so much when he’d led her into the forest last night. Not just for sexual pleasure, not that she was complaining about that part of it, but for the simple and wondrous act of being with a friend.

  Lyr was her friend, wasn’t he? Perhaps the only true friend she’d ever had.

  Tiller sometimes looked at her and almost smirked, as if he knew what had happened last night. He’d been too far away to do more than suspect, and in truth she didn’t care. Lyr did care, however. He’d made it clear his men were not to know the true nature of their relationship.

  Friendship.

  Sex.

  Love?

  Maybe.

  When they stopped for an afternoon break, Segyn left the care of the horses to Til and Swaine and swaggered to her with a smile on his face. “Do you think you could make any bush grow the way you made the flowers grow?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “The ability is new. Untested. I honestly don’t know what I can do.”

  “I ask because I spotted a yettle bush right over there.” He pointed to the south. “Have you ever had a yettle berry?”

  “I’ve never even heard of them,” she confessed. “Are they tasty?”

  Segyn rolled his eyes. “Tasty indeed. Sweet as pie with just a touch of tartness to tease the tongue. They’re very rare. I had wondered if there were any yettle berry bushes left in the world, that is how rare they are. They sprout early in the summer, but it occurred to me that if you can make flowers when there should be none, perhaps you could make berries as well. I suspect Lyr would enjoy a bite of something sweet on a warm afternoon.”

  The very thought made Rayne smile. Lyr didn’t take time for many pleasures, she had learned that about him. If she could feed him a few sweet berries when there should be none, what a gift that would be.

  Segyn led her to the bush, and Rayne knelt down before it. Lyr was not about, so if she was successful, the berries would be a surprise. Lyr had gone to the stream where Til and Swaine had taken the horses, and there he would likely shave quickly with a small, sharp knife. Last night his beard had been quite rough, so it was time. He would return with smooth cheeks, and she would feed him sweet berries—if she could make her magic work again.

  She pressed her hands into the dirt at the base of the bush. She could almost feel a part of herself seeping into the soil, feeding the plant with a magical energy. “Can you give us lovely berries, even though the time has not come?” She began to sing, as she had yesterday, and in moments the growth began. The leaves quivered, and soon small blooms opened. The blooms dropped, and berries appeared. At first they were red, and then they turned a dark purple.

  The growth stopped.

  Rayne began to pick while Segyn looked on. “There are so many! Everyone will be able to have a few, and if they’ll keep well enough, perhaps we can pack what’s left for later today and tomorrow.” She looked over her shoulder to a smiling Segyn. “Would you like to help me pick?”

  “After you take a handful to m’lord, I will pick some for myself.”

  Rayne had so many berries she ended up carrying them in the folds of her skirt. Til and Swaine should have some fruit, too. After all they had done for her, she was glad to be able to give them something, even if it was just a handful of berries.

  There was a rough path of sorts that led to the stream. She arrived just as Lyr was washing off his freshly shaved face, and with a smile she presented the berries, which rested on her skirt, to him. “Yettle berries,” she said. “Segyn says they’re very sweet and tasty.”

  He studied the fruit. “I have never had these berries.”

  “Neither have I, but Segyn says they’re sweet as pie and that’s good enough for me.”

  Lyr took a handful of berries and popped one into his mouth. Another followed, and then he smiled. He did not smile often, so this smile was particularly gratifying. While he ate, she offered Til and Swaine some of what she’d gathered, and they both took greedy handfuls.

  They had both taken big bites, tossing several berries at a time into their mouths, when Lyr fell.

  Rayne turned, not sure what to think of what she’d just seen. Lyr fell, landing on his face. He was so graceful, she had never seen him so much as stumble. The breath he took—face in the dirt—was a labored one, and a moment later his hand opened to spill berries across the ground.

  “Are you choking?” Rayne dropped to her knees. The berries she’d caught in her skirt scattered, rolling away from her as she turned Lyr onto his back. His face was taut and slightly contorted, and his hands were clenched. His throat worked oddly, and for a moment she believed that he was truly choking.

  Tiller fell, followed by Swaine.

  Rayne looked at the berries she’d dropped. They were poisoned! How could Segyn have made such a mistake? She screamed for Lyr’s next in command and in very short order he was there, as if he had been waiting for her call.

  “I think this is the wrong sort of berry,” she said frantically. “They all ate a few and then they fell, and... I think they’re dying.”

  “You didn’t eat any?” Segyn asked.

  “No, I was—”

  “A lady always serves others first.”

  How could he be so calm? “Do something!” she commanded. “They’re dying!”
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  “They’re not dying,” Segyn said in an even voice as he stepped past her and drew his sword. “Not yet.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lyr couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. His arms and legs felt heavy, as if they were not his own.

  She’d poisoned him. Just as he’d feared, Rayne had never been who she’d appeared to be. She’d seduced him, made him care about her, and now she was going to kill him for her true lover—her beloved Ciro.

  Segyn stepped into the clearing. He obviously hadn’t eaten any of the poison berries. Rayne spoke to him, but Lyr could barely hear her treacherous words. His blood was rushing so fast he couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. Making excuses, no doubt. Trying to explain away why three men lay helpless while she looked on. Segyn saw through her. The Circle Warrior drew his sword. Lyr tried to shout no, but he wasn’t sure why. Rayne poisoned him and his men, so it was right that Segyn kill her. Still, he wanted to scream no.

  Segyn walked past Rayne to the bank where. Til and Swaine lay, no doubt as helpless as Lyr. He couldn’t see them, not in this position, and he couldn’t turn his head for a better view. Segyn was likely checking to see that they still breathed, that they could be saved. Could they? Could any of them be saved?

  With effort, Lyr shifted his eyes just enough to see Segyn raise his sword and bring it down again, not once but twice.

  Rayne screamed. He heard that well even through the rushing of blood in his ears.

  Segyn moved to Lyr. He stood above, his sword grasped easily in one hand. For a moment the Circle Warrior studied him from that position so far above, and then he smiled widely and something in Lyr’s heart died. Segyn was his friend, a man he trusted above all others, and somehow he had done this terrible thing. Not Rayne, but Segyn. Or were they working together? Had Rayne seduced Segyn as well? Had she been playing a deadly game from the moment they’d found her bound and supposedly helpless? It didn’t matter how this had come to be. Segyn’s participation was a betrayal of the worst sort, a betrayal that cut to the core.