Khari'na Made (Muse Book 1)

by Jean Winter

  Great Creator, if only I could just see it for a minute—soak in its sacred writ.

  Oh, she was asking a lot, she knew it! However, there probably wasn't any harm in bringing the box down for a few minutes. She could heft its reassuring weight and hold it on her lap. At least that would be something. It would help reaffirm her mission and remind her of the bigger picture.

  Standing on the stool, Lyra pushed the linens out of the way and pulled the box out over her head from its protective cloth. The rows of tiny knobs nestled on the underside in a grid about two by three inches became visible. Oh yeah. The locking mechanism. And no one but the prophet knew the combination. Lyra grimaced. She had forgotten for a moment that she wouldn't be able to open it up, anyway.

  She placed the lovely, ornamentally carved box on her lap and knew that the wooden slats were only inserts for show. This thing was solidly lined and framed in ludicrously strong selminum—an ancient, very rare metal. Without the combination, it would have to be blown up to get inside it, and then the contents would be obliterated along with the container.

  Lyra closed her eyes and thought about what this precious, sacred artifact meant to her people—and to the world, only the world didn't know it yet. She calmly pondered these things with her hands atop it, almost feeling it call to her as if it knew she was its sole protector and would lay down her life for it in a second. A warmth that could only be described as peace pooled reassuringly within her.

  “Lyra?”

  J'Kor was in the great room! Lyra scrambled to return the box to its hiding place. J'Kor called her name again and she hurriedly arranged the linen sheets back over it. “Yes, my lord. I'm in here,” she answered, hopping off the stool and setting it back beside the vanity just as it had been.

  J'Kor strode in while Lyra curtsied low and formal.

  “I brought you something,” he said shortly, and before Lyra had time to react, he pulled from behind his back a large, freshly killed rabbit, dangling in the air by the hocks.

  “Oh!” Lyra stepped back in shock. The furry, limp head swung lightly, one wide, glassy eye pointing straight at her.

  “But you will probably like these better,” he added.

  A modest bouquet of colored, fragrant lilicanth was presented next, obviously freshly cut from somewhere, and Lyra couldn't help but gasp in pleasant surprise. He had earned that one.

  “And you would be correct, my lord,” she said, tentatively accepting the flowers and bringing them to her face for a delicious whiff. “Thank you.” She murmured this with as much sincerity as she could muster for her slave owner.

  His nod was grave, evidently having decided it was important that he make this concession of peace, and he held up the rabbit once again. “But seriously, this is dinner tonight. Do you know what to do with this?”

  “I can roast it, certainly, my lord, uh, once it is skinned and gutted.” She shifted uncomfortably. Rabbits were not part of her expertise.

  A ghost of a grin appeared. “No' to worry. I can show you how.”

  Following him to the kitchen, Lyra regarded her small bouquet. “My lord, I didn't know you had these growing around here.” She was more surprised by his apparent quick forgiveness, but she was not about to bring that up. What was the saying? Don't look a gift thresher in the mouth?

  He pulled out his large cutting board and lay the rabbit on it. “You have no' noticed them out by the pond?”

  Lyra responded quietly, “I have not yet taken any liberty to explore the grounds, my lord.”

  She put the flowers in a vase and began to fill it with water from the sink while J'Kor took to contemplating the wooden surface before him. He finally said with some surprise, “You are absolutely correct. You have been here nearly a week and I have no' yet given you a tour. Only, I do no' suppose you would want that rectified in this weather.” He glanced out the window at the persistent, light drizzle.

  Lyra's carefree laugh startled even her. “Are you kidding? What weather, my lord? I love the rain.”

  J'Kor eyed her curiously. Then turning back, he raised his butcher's knife. “It is settled then. We will get this roast started and you will receive the grand tour this very afternoon.” Thwack! The rabbit's head tumbled off the cutting board at the edge of the counter into the waiting trash can below.

  J'Kor's skinning and gutting of the meaty animal was quick and efficient. He had it ready to be placed whole in a pan for seasoning within ten minutes. While he added some supplemental vegetables from the ice box, Lyra made a comment on the dwindling supply of certain perishables.

  “No worries. Tomorrow is market day. I will show you how to get there and from whom I like to buy. Eventually, you will be able to make that trip yourself.”

  There it was, another allusion to long-term residence here. Lyra wasn't sure what to make of it. And if he was planning to keep her, had he also planned out when he would end the platonic nature of their relationship?

  After showing her his favorite spice rub and placing the whole thing in the heated oven, he retrieved a poncho for Lyra while she tied up her boot laces. She was nearly grinning from ear to ear by the time she draped the waterproof article over her. She couldn't remember the last time she had so blithely ventured into the rain just for the pleasure of it.

  “So did you take some 'rest' time for yourself earlier?” he said, as they stepped off the porch together into the cool drizzle.

  “Why yes, my lord. I did.” She hoped to Geniven's end this was not just the start of another argument. “And that meant the world to me. Thank you.”

  To her relief he just nodded and started her tour at the rabbitry—a much more pleasant place now, in Lyra's estimation. As they continued back outside, she tipped her hooded head up to the sky to let a few drops splash lightly upon her nose and cheeks. Ah, nature!

  Somewhere in between his natural spring pond and a perimeter stroll of one of his fields, J'Kor casually took Lyra's hand to hold. It was … nice—when there was no particular pressure to allow him further liberties, that is. They spoke of his beautiful, ancestral farmland, the differences in weather tendencies nearer the coast as opposed to Lyra's mountain region, and this season's plans regarding the livestock and his crops. They passed tall, moisture-laden grass stalks, enticing Lyra to reach out every so often just to let the soft blades run through her fingers, making the fresh, green scent waft upward.

  Occasionally, J'Kor would stop her to show a particularly beautiful view or make mention of a tree or hollow which held special childhood memories. Lyra didn't know when the conversation got turned to her, but, in a moment, she became aware that for the last several minutes she had been telling him all about her children. Rorn. Verise. Little Iyalyn. Flustered, she stopped in mid-sentence and looked around. They were at the edge of the yard by the barn. J'Kor was casually leaning against a fence post, stroking the back of her hand in an absent-minded manner as he listened attentively. She flushed.

  “I think the temperature is dropping, my lord,” she said, removing her hand from his and wrapping her arms about herself. “May I go back inside and see how dinner is coming?”

  He straightened as if in some realization, too. “Oh, o' course. I will be in after a while.” Then J'Kor smiled at her—a genuine, kind smile. “Sugarpip, I canno' tell you how much I loved hearing that you would like to take a walk in the rain. Thank you for the lovely stroll.”

  Then he walked away with Lyra staring after him. Who is that man and what is going on in his head? Just when she thought she had him figured out, he went and tipped her off balance again. Dang! Kadent J'Kor was beginning to itch under her skin less like an infectious rash and more like a compelling tingle. Lyra bit her lip in consternation.

  He's toying with me, isn't he, Father?

  At dinner, he continued fostering the congenial atmosphere, so much so, that afterward, Lyra was introduced to his favorite card game. By bedtime, they were arguing spiritedly over whether or not he was cheating.

  “You
told me I was not allowed to pick up another card and you just took two!” Lyra indignantly accused.

  J'Kor laughed, taking yet another card from the draw pile. “I said you could no' do it when it was no' your turn.”

  “Well, it is not your turn anymore now, buster,” Lyra said, slapping her hand over his. “I just played a set.”

  J'Kor impassively slipped his hand out from under hers. “These cards are retroactive. You started your turn too fast.”

  “I did not,” Lyra retorted, swiftly plucking up the card he was tucking neatly into his hand.

  But J'Kor cleanly caught her wrist over the table. “Ah, but you forgot about the 'whammy' rule. It says cheating is allowed if the player can get away with it.”

  This made Lyra shoot to her feet. “Well, I am not going to let you get away with this one, so give it up now and I might not report you to the authorities.”

  He stood, too, decisively removing the card from her grasp. “Oh, is that a threat?”

  “Definitely, my lord.”

  His smile was brilliant and he brought her hand to his lips. “Then I yield to the lady. You win.” Letting her hand go, he tossed his cards across the table and sat down with a yawn and a stretch, his eyes positively laughing.

  Stoically, Lyra cleaned up the cards, relieved to turn away when she was done because she was having the hardest time keeping a straight face. Today's unexpected, albeit pleasant, interruptions had not let her finish her chore list, so Lyra started down the hall toward the laundry room where she still had some washing and clothes pressing to do.

  “And where do you think you are going at this late hour?” came J'Kor's voice from his seat.

  “I still need to finish my chores, my lord.”

  “Um, no. You have only one more job I expect o' you today and is no' going to happen in there.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “What does my lord require?” Lyra said, cringing inwardly. She looked back at J'Kor watching her, relaxed, confident and grinning.

  “Come to bed, Lyra,” he said, “We have an early start tomorrow. I like to have first pick at the market.”

  Lyra was wary as she began her bedtime routine. She was not quite at ease with what he meant, but a few minutes later she understood for certain that he wasn't implying anything else when she saw him enter his office—where he stayed long after she went to sleep.

  The next morning almost felt routine. They ate breakfast together and he dictated for her a shopping list. Then after some necessary morning chores, Lyra met him outside as he hitched Whinnee up to the wagon. He gave her a, “You look beautiful this morning, Sugarpip,” and they were on their way.

  A few minutes into the drive, he yawned.

  “You came to bed very late, my lord,” she ventured softly.

  “Oh, did I wake you? Sorry about that. I had a lot o' business to take care o'. Bills, records ….” He finished indistinctly with a shrug.

  The local market was not far and they commenced shopping under a bright, clear sky. J'Kor introduced her as Mistress J'Kor to the many merchants and grocers he knew by name. Fortunately, not too many in this place eyed her knowingly as the controversial, expensive khari'na from the auction, and Lyra relished in the anonymity. She got plenty of curious looks as the new, chosen woman of Lord J'Kor, however. He was clearly a respected and favorite patron of the shopkeepers and their progress was slowed by the many, small conversations that developed as J'Kor would ask considerately after family members by name. Lyra didn't mind in the least. The people were friendly, it was a beautiful day, and she felt quite free to be at ease here.

  At a flower cart, J'Kor bought her a single, long-stemmed white lilicanth, saying, “Happy one- week anniversary, my Lyra.”

  She took it with reservation. “I am sorry the week wasn't actually more so, my lord.”

  “Well, the way I see it, Sugarpip,” he said, leading her along the avenue again, “my home has never been cleaner, my Jos'lie never happier, I am eating better than in years, I am already ahead on my spring work load, and thanks to you, I still have a healthy, experienced sheepdog. That sounds like a pretty good week to me, despite other things.”

  Lyra almost didn't know what to say. He was kind of sounding like a real friend. “My lord is very kind with his summation. Thank you.”

  She was taken to one more vendor, a candy vendor, where J'Kor introduced her to a new, exciting flavor. They called it donnee and it was glorious—a confection concocted from a certain velvety, dark brown bean, ground up, combined with nectar granules and oil, cooked, then allowed to cool and harden into chunky bricks. Donnee bean plants only grew in tropical regions in the south seas, but were quickly gaining in popularity. Lyra took another taste and began to wonder how well this flavor might combine with a couple of her other favorite treats.

  On the drive home, Lyra pondered her “anniversary” blossom sitting in her lap. It looked remarkably like the one Hundt had put in her hair at the auction, the one whose giver had never made himself known. She remembered how much seeing it had buoyed her spirit. She peeked over at J'Kor in the driver's seat, wearing his floppy, heavily used work hat, and whistling to himself in the late morning sun.

  # # #

  “My lord, was it you?” Lyra suddenly asked.

  “What?” Kade looked down at Lyra sitting so peacefully beside him. His determination of yesterday to keep giving her space was paying off. He even dared to believe she was beginning to respond to him in subtle ways. Though, whether or not this progress was worth the torture of keeping his distance and swallowing his pride remained to be seen.

  “This.” Lyra held up the lilicanth he had bought her. “At the auction. Was it you who left it on the floor for me to pick up?”

  Kade looked at her strangely. “You found that on the floor? I thought it was a part o' your outfit. You already had it when I first saw you.”

  She actually seemed a little disappointed at his denial. “But, why lilicanth, my lord?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The petals across the bed, the bouquet from yesterday, and now this. It just made me think that maybe it was you.”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “Well, I wish I could take the credit, but your secret admirer, evidently, did no' admire you enough to put his money where his anonymity was.”

  She giggled. “Seriously, my lord, I am sensing a theme here.”

  “I just like the smell, I guess.” Kade was not about to admit that he had a favorite flower. “And when I saw that one on you, I assumed they were your preference. Did I guess wrong?”

  “Oh, no! Lilicanth are my absolute favorite. They remind me of home—” She suddenly went quiet.

  There was his next chance. Extending an arm round her waist, he slid her closer, and with a little kiss to the top of her head, said, “I am sorry that you are missing your home.”

  The reward for this effort was worth it. She leaned into his shoulder and breathed an emotional sigh.

  Kade wondered how long he could keep this up, though. He was already sore from another extremely rigorous wood chopping session last night in order to make sure he was absolutely exhausted before joining her in bed. On the plus side, the time spent cutting helped release his tension and he had also gotten a lot of good busywork done in his office. Come on, old boy, you can do this. Her shell was already thinner.

  At home, Kade found a message waiting for him on his receiver. Sal. Dance lesson. Tomorrow afternoon. His house.

  He grinned. He had no real excuse not to go. He wasn't behind on work, and the excuse to engage in close physical contact with Lyra under Sal's supervision could not be ignored (even though Kade was certain his friend would not so much as blink an eye if he chose to carry Lyra off to a room before they left).

  Which you will no' do.

  Not yet.

  He dutifully kept his distance the rest of the day, chopped another half cord of wood, and spent the evening listening to another game on the voicebox while Lyra c
urled up on the nearby sofa with a book. This time, after a brisk “good moonrise” before going to hide out in his office for a couple more hours, she surprised him by stopping in the open doorway after finishing her nighttime routine.

  “My lord, are you going to work late again tonight?”

  She was so beautiful in the flowing nightgown with her long hair softly billowing about her skin.

  “Aye, my Lyra. Do you need anything?”

  “Oh, uh, no. Good moonrise, my lord.” She bent her knee quickly and walked away.

  It wasn't very long before Kade's lids were drooping heavily; he had already started out the day sleepy from the night before. Kade plodded tiredly to his room and stripped down, studying Lyra through the gloom. She was not yet entirely asleep. Okay. One tiny little liberty for himself. Call it desensitization. Kade climbed in and let one hand lay lightly against her back.

  They both, eventually, fell asleep.

  The morning's first light breathed its salutation and Kade became aware of Lyra stirring against him. He rolled ever so slightly closer and let his fingers rest on her hip, breathing in the scent of her hair at the top of her head, feeling her warmth sink into him. Gods, Lyra. This is the way it ought to be.

  Then she awoke fully.

  “Good morrow, Sugarpip. Did I tell you that Sal is expecting us again today?” He rolled away like he had just woken up in that position, himself.

  Her drowsy, unguarded answer was like velvet to his ears and a discussion began on the day's work. She dressed in the closet. He remained in the room, but seeing that the door was left open just a crack, Kade couldn't resist letting his eye linger, catching flashes of skin as they spoke. She had very nice skin.

  Her smile at him when she emerged was so open and trusting, however, that Kade felt a twinge of guilt for looking. He avoided her eye as she spoke happily of what she was going to cook him. She was even humming to herself by the time she was cleaning up breakfast.

  Kade left to attend to his morning chores, but paused just outside the door to listen and watch her secretly through the front window. It all felt so right. She looked so right—moving about his home, greeting Ahskr with a playful scratch behind the ears, casting a wondering glance out the window in the direction he was supposed to have gone. Kade smoothly stepped away before she saw him.