Khari'na Made (Muse Book 1)

by Jean Winter

  “That is true.” Darn her! “Thank you, my lady. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Everything looks perfect, 'Na Lyra.”

  The couple decided to take a walk for a tour of the property before Lady Pryn shed her outerwear and as they left, hand in hand, the sound of Ahskr's enthusiastic approach of his master and the newcomer could be heard. Parting the curtain, Lyra saw Lady Pryn doing her best to keep her composure with the overenthusiastic animal. She even tried to give him a few, hesitant pats. Then J'Kor said something she seemed to like and when he bent for a kiss on her cheek, she positively glowed.

  Lyra's fingernails dug into the curtain's threads. She wanted to—to—well, she didn't know what she wanted to do. So forward! What brass! Charming the wits out of that woman all the way to his bed. Lyra really hoped she would be able to duck out speedily after dinner before she had to watch much more of this sick schmoozing.

  It was only about fifteen minutes later that the pair was tromping back up the porch steps. It had begun to sprinkle. “Oh my!” Lady Pryn laughed as she pranced in. “Few things spoil a perfectly good walk so quickly as a dismal, untimely rain. Do you no' think so?”

  J'Kor cordially murmured agreement as he helped her with her cape, gloves, and hat. A whine at the door let everyone know Ahskr was hoping to come in and all eyes went to the guest.

  “Oh, er, aye, please do no' make the poor animal stay outside on my account,” she tried, “if it is your habit to let him into the house. He will go lie down somewhere out o' the way, right?”

  Lyra quickly intervened. “He can be in Jos'lie's room with me tonight, my lord,” she offered as she took the steaming pot of tea off the stove and placed it on the tray.

  “Thank you, 'Na Lyra,” J'Kor said. “I think that is a good idea.”

  “Aye, thank you, 'Na Lyra. How kind o' you,” Lady Pryn added.

  Lyra carried the large tray with the tea plus a small assortment of cakes and breads she had baked earlier to the low table by the sofa before she let the dog in.

  “My poor boots,” Lady Pryn grinned with a girlish pout. “I am afraid they were no' meant to be traipsing through farm mud. Evidently, I did no' pack very well for this visit.”

  “Well, did you pack your toothbrush?” J'Kor asked.

  Lady Pryn giggled. “Aye.”

  Lyra was forced to hear J'Kor's saving answer as she led the damp Ahskr from the room.

  “Then I think you are covered for tonight.”

  More giggling. Gag! Followed by several seconds of silence. Double gag!

  After closing Ahskr in, Lyra was reluctant to go back. She was afraid of what she might find. When she did, however, J'Kor and Lady Pryn were merely seated next to each other, helping themselves to Lyra's spread, though the flirting and private conversation still carried all too easily across the room.

  Thankfully, things grew quieter at dinner. Lady Pryn was very complimentary of Lyra's cooking though she mostly sifted through the dishes. “Delicate constitution,” she explained apologetically. Dessert, she declared, was “scrumptious”—after barely consuming half a slice.

  Lyra went about cleaning up the meal at a furious pace, eager to be done with her duties. After a glance or two from J'Kor, however, she forced herself to slow down so she wouldn't be so loud. The smothering, amorous atmosphere just had to be endured a little longer.

  Eventually the coin came out for magic tricks to the delight of the attentive lady. That was when Lyra had to leave for a few minutes. Her head pounded and her stomach was in upheaval. Was she coming down with something?

  She splashed some water on her dirt-flushed face in the bathroom and tried to breathe slowly. Then Lyra suddenly became aware that the applause and chatter had died down. She listened harder. Nothing.

  Something beyond her control made her creep down the hall to peek at J'Kor “plucking” a flower out of thin air. That same something didn't let her turn away as he tucked the blossom into Lady Pryn's hair, nor when he brought her head closer for a long, lingering kiss. A sharp and heavy sensation dug into Lyra's chest. She started seeing spots.

  Then, the obvious finally hit her like a slap in the face.

  You are jealous.

  In horror, Lyra stumbled backward into the hall's dim light. That's ridiculous!

  She wanted her snort of derision to come out as vehemently as when she was told she was a mage, but the intensity sorely lacked. No. No! She really did want him to develop a good relationship with someone else. Then they could have an easy, working partnership until she could figure out how to run away more successfully. As for tonight, Lyra was just disgusted with his eagerness to … and—and Lady Pryn's willingness to be ….

  Lyra's retreat took her back to the bathroom mirror and she stared down her reflection while vivid anamneses of J'Kor played across her vision: his mussy hair in the mornings when it was all pushed to one side, his rich, deep laugh, the way he held her when they danced.

  Reading together.

  The way he interacted with the children.

  His warm breath on her neck in bed …

  You liar! the voice of truth accused. You are so jealous it's actually making you sick, and you can't stand to see him touching another woman in that way because you want him so badly it is driving you crazy!

  Lyra shut her eyes tight. “No. No.”

  But she knew it was true.

  So what did this mean? Did she love him? No, it couldn't possibly be that. He was a Stranger. They were from totally different worlds. It would never work. She cared for him, though. That was undeniable.

  Blast you Kad—I mean, J'Kor!

  Footsteps sounded in the hall and she dried her dripping face just in time for J'Kor and Lady Pryn to appear together in the open doorway holding hands. Grrr.

  Ugh. Holy Spirit, take these feelings from me!

  “Are you finished in here?” J'Kor said, regarding her as if he were seeing her for the first time tonight.

  “Yes, yes, I am finished. Sorry to be in the way, my lord.”

  She hurried out and another small laugh twittered from Lady Pryn. “I guess I did no' think about the whole household having to share just one powder room.”

  Lyra kept cleaning up the kitchen while J'Kor meandered back out alone to start something crackling and cozy in the fireplace. The last dish was almost put away when Lady Pryn skipped into existence again. “Ooo, Kadent, a fire?” she crooned, kneeling close beside him to watch. “How handy you are. What a perfect addition to this delightful evening.” And her hand reached for his thigh.

  Bang!

  Two pairs of startled eyes shot toward Lyra.

  “Sorry,” Lyra apologized meekly. She had accidentally closed the cabinet door a little too hard. But at least now she was finished. “I think I am all done here, my lord. Do you have any more need of me tonight?” Please say no. Please say no.

  Another inquisitive study and then J'Kor turned to his date. She smiled demurely up at him. “I think we will be able to take care o' ourselves now, 'Na Lyra,” he said. “Thank you, and good moonrise.”

  “Good moonrise, my lord. Lady Pryn.” Lyra curtsied and left as fast as she could without breaking into a run.

  In Jos'lie's room, she flung herself onto the trundle, curling up into a tight ball. You don't want him. You don't love him. This new woman is a good thing! Lyra wanted to believe it so badly. At about the tenth repetition, however, the closest thing within reach got pitched against the wall. The unfortunate object happened to be her pillow.

  It thumped hard then landed on top of the small desk, knocking over a jar of colored pencils and making Ahskr raise his head in curiosity. A light knock sounded at the door.

  “Lyra? Is everything okay in there?”

  Shoot!

  In a panic, Lyra rolled off the bed and started scooping up pencils. “Yes, my lord. I just accidentally knocked something over.”

  “Did something also hit the wall?”

  “Um, yeah, that was me
. I tripped and hit the wall. And knocked something over.”

  Silence.

  “Lyra, open the door.” The order was soft, but definitely more than a request.

  With a rapid smoothing of her hair, she took a deep breath and turned the knob. Nonchalant. Be nonchalant. “Yes, my lord?”

  J'Kor's shirt was partially unbuttoned (the sash was already gone) and he was holding a big, fluffy quilt he must have just retrieved from the linen closet. He leaned in for a quick survey of his daughter's room. “Why is your pillow on the desk?”

  “Because I put it there.” Lyra did her best to sound like it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do and why in the world would he ask such a thing?

  His penetrating, soul-reading gaze fell on her with full force. Don't gulp. Don't sweat. Don't fidget. Don't look away.

  “Lyra, you have been acting funny tonight. Are you upset … about Shasmae?”

  CHAPTER 17

  He was in full interrogation mode. She wouldn't get away with anything but absolute truth.

  “Sir, I think the Lady Pryn is lovely and kind and trying very hard to show how accepting she is of you. She obviously likes you a great deal. I agree with your mother. She might make a very good match for you.”

  That was the truth. Unfortunately. No, not unfortunately! Ugh!

  J'Kor said nothing. He seemed to be debating her answer.

  “She is waiting for you, sir,” Lyra finally prodded. “And I thought I was off duty.” What does it matter anyway, you schmuck? You don't like me anymore, remember?

  “Oh, Kadent!” came Lady Pryn's singsong prompt from the great room. “Do you need help finding that blanket?”

  Another second, and J'Kor quietly turned away, heeding the call. Lyra blew out her breath she had been holding and, listing against the door frame, listened to J'Kor address his guest. Apparently, they were going to spend some time in front of the fire before heading—Oh no! Lyra remembered she had left her nightgown in the closet.

  A minute of deliberation passed before she decided to just take a peek—again—and see if she wouldn't be interrupting anything “important” to hurry past and get it, as well as a change of clothes for the morning. She hugged the wall as she moved. It had turned quiet again, though that could mean a lot of things.

  Her careful peer into the room showed J'Kor and Lady Pryn seated on the blanket before the fire, talking softly. It looked safe enough. Lyra was about to make some noise to respectfully alert them to her presence when Lady Pryn suddenly shifted to better face J'Kor and took her hair down, letting it fall in glorious, softly curling cascades about her shoulders. She leaned in, kissing him warmly, her fingers making furrows through his hair.

  Lyra's vision fuzzed. She didn't know why she couldn't turn and go back to Jos'lie's room. She didn't want to see this. She didn't want to see him respond in kind. Lady Pryn moved closer, encouraging J'Kor to reach for her as her lips made kisses down the side of his neck. Then, ever so slightly, J'Kor's eyes flicked toward Lyra.

  With a gasp she sprang back out of sight. Had he seen her? She suddenly felt like some sick, wretched lurker who had nothing better to do than spy on people for her own morbid pleasure. Get out of here. Get out of here now!

  She slipped back into Jos'lie's room, locked the door, and grabbed the blanket off the trundle. Now she was grateful for the already filthy frock as she scrambled out Jos'lie's window to the damp ground. Lyra wrapped the blanket securely around her—thank goodness it had stopped raining—and strode off into the darkness, hoping if she could get out of sight of the house, it would help her think less about what was happening in it.

  Her wandering took her along a fence line where one of J'Kor's flocks was bedded down for the night. Lyra found some relief from her troubled thoughts among the sounds of the contented animals and other lullabies of the gentle evening as she merged with embowering darkness. She strolled the entire perimeter of one pasture. Then, not wanting go back inside until she was so tired she could drop off to sleep immediately, she started on another.

  It was perhaps two hours later that, exhausted, grungy, and cold, Lyra was tossing her blanket through Jos'lie's bedroom window and following behind. Wearily, she stripped down and dumped herself onto the trundle. She was too tired to care that her pillow still lay on the desk.

  The smell of brewing bean tea roused her. Had she overslept? No. The pink and purple wall clock over Jos'lie's desk said it was still somewhat early, but someone was definitely moving around the kitchen. Perhaps J'Kor was still charming Lady Pryn by personally making breakfast for her. But he had specifically requested that Lyra make pop tarts.

  With nothing else to wear, she donned her dirty frock from yesterday and tried to prepare herself for whatever sight of the couple she might behold. Lyra made sure to make noise as she let herself and Ahskr out, but J'Kor was alone in the kitchen in pajama bottoms and a thin shirt. He was just pouring himself some tea, hair already combed.

  “Good morrow,” he said with a casual nod.

  “Good morrow.” Lyra cast wary eyes around for signs of his lovely guest. “I am sorry I was not up earlier to make your tea for you. I figured you would be sleeping in.”

  He shrugged. “No' a problem.” Then he took in her appearance. “Did you sleep in that?”

  “I took it off for bed, but I did forget to take some extra clothes into the room with me.”

  “Oh, well you can go get changed before you start breakfast, if you like.” J'Kor took a sip of tea and Lyra looked to his bedroom door, slightly ajar.

  “I would not wish to disturb Lady Pryn, sir. Isn't she still asleep?”

  Another sip and he leaned back against the counter. “No. She is gone, in fact. She left earlier.”

  Lyra started. “But I thought she was staying through the day to attend your mother's event with you.”

  The man stood utterly at ease as he regarded the contents of his cup. “We decided it was no' going to work out between us, after all.”

  “Sir! … I am sorry things did not turn out as you had hoped.” Something seemed off. Lyra had a hard time believing Lady Pryn did not want to be with him, not after that show of last night.

  “It is all right.” He smiled. “Do no' worry about me.”

  Lyra stood in shock.

  Surely he was feeling great frustration and disappointment, but his body language and tone revealed nothing. He was so perfectly relaxed. What in the world had happened? They were getting along so well last night. Uncomfortably so, in fact.

  Then an ugly thought came that perhaps one night of physical gratification was all J'Kor really wanted. Lyra tried to dismiss it. She didn't want to think of him as that kind of man.

  She was dying for more details, but with a nod, J'Kor simply took his cup with him to the bedroom breakfast nook and proceeded to watch the sunrise. Lyra changed in the closet then approached him. “Do you still want me to make those pop tarts, sir?”

  “No, thank you. I think whipping me up some eggs will suffice just fine for this morning.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

  “Well, aye.”

  Lyra waited expectantly.

  “Please feel free to take it easy today and give yourself plenty o' time to get ready.”

  “Ready?”

  “For the spring gala.” J'Kor finally looked her fully in the face. “It seems I am in need o' a companion.”

  “Sir! A-are you sure you want me to go with you?” She knew her track record at Caldreen'n public gatherings was well below satisfactory. And he was still supposed to be so disappointed in her.

  “Aye, I am.” And J'Kor went back to gazing upon his pond sparkling with every ripple.

  In bewilderment, Lyra went about making breakfast.

  By the time she was folding laundry in the wash room, she had managed to get over most of the morning's shocking revelations. She even began humming to herself, deep in thought, almost content. A creak of the door caused her to look up, but Lyra's ready smile
for J'Kor faded when she saw the look on his face.

  “It looks like Nim is back,” he muttered. “Her carriage is almost in the yard.”

  Drat! What did that woman want now? She followed him out to the porch and watched an agitated Nim get helped down by J'Kor. Her one thresher appeared rather winded.

  “Lyra! Lyra, dear! I need your help!” Nim called to her, breathless. Lyra hurried down the steps.

  “What's wrong?”

  “It is Pol Weet's youngest.” She looked at J'Kor. “The boy was mauled this morning by one o' their churung dams. Apparently, she had given birth last night and little Jank snuck away during breakfast to try to go see the baby.”

  The color drained from J'Kor's face. “How bad is he?”

  “Bad.” Nim's voice trembled even as she said it. “I just hope he is still alive by the time we get back. Come along. Hurry!”

  Lyra felt sick with the thought. “What do you—?”

  “You know exactly what I want you to do,” Nim snapped. “Now get in the surrey immediately.”

  Lyra turned anxious eyes on J'Kor. “Go!” he urged. “I will be right behind.”

  Queasy and cold, Lyra sat beside Nim in the lightweight two-seater and it jolted forward. “Nim, I really don't know what I'm doing with this healing thing.”

  “A problem that could have been remedied if you had been a little more cooperative in working with Dr. Wyk last week,” the woman admonished. “You can learn a lot from him about the art.”

  “But Nim, I don't want—”

  “It is no' about what you want,” Nim retorted. “It is about the needs o' others, and what you can do for them.” The surrey sped along, kicking up dust behind it, and she paused to compose herself. “I would think that a woman o' your experience and character would understand that better.”

  Guiltily, Lyra swallowed the admonition from the Caldreen'n Stranger. The woman was right—about the helping part. This supposed “gift” of Lyra's, however, she still didn't know how to look at it.

  Then Lyra remembered Jon in her dream last night. He had said she needed to be thinking about her singing. Greatly humbled, Lyra spoke over the gallop of padded feet and the wind whistling in her ears. “Tell me what you know about his injuries.”