Khari'na Made (Muse Book 1)

by Jean Winter

  “I will wake you in a few hours when it is time to get ready to leave. It will be fine if we are late,” J'Kor said after she was tucked in comfortably.

  You're kidding. After what I just went through? “Do I have to go?” Lyra moaned. “Can't you just say that I'm sick or something? You know I have trouble blending in, anyway.”

  “Mrs. Woodrose, will you please go with me?”

  A request? What was it with him today?

  “Why?”

  J'Kor passed his fingers through his hair. (Darn, he was so cute when he did that!) “Because, I hate going to my mother's events looking unattached. She is always trying to set me up with someone, which is why I rarely accept her invitations anymore. Please.” He looked at her beseechingly. “I would much rather spend the time with you than alone, anyway.”

  The rush of pleasure that tried to trill up her spine was coldly reprimanded. He had just had a planned one-night stand, after all! “Okay, but let me see how I feel after this nap. I don't understand yet what this exhaustion from the healing is about and I don't know how long it will last.”

  “O' course. And if you really are feeling sick, I do understand.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Sweet sleep began to overcome her.

  “Kade,” he corrected softly.

  “Thank you.” That was not going to change.

  “Oh, and by the way,” J'Kor said, pausing on his way out, his back to her, “in case you were wondering, because I think you might be, I did no' sleep with Miss Pryn last night. She left soon after you went to bed.”

  The door closed and Lyra's eyes snapped wide open.

  The revelation shocked her to wakefulness for only so long, however. Her body's need for complete rest soon dragged her down to insensible slumber—a strangely peaceful, insensible slumber.

  A knock caused her to stir.

  “It is time to get ready. Do you feel better?” said J'Kor, poking his head in, hopeful.

  Sitting up and stretching, Lyra assessed the state of her body. “I think so.” She felt much better, actually, though her voice was still scratchy. “I guess we are a go for tonight,” she said, not too enthusiastically.

  J'Kor only grinned. “Good.” He stepped into the room, already mostly dressed and polished—in a light, gray-green military dress uniform.

  Oh man, why was she such a sucker for him in formal wear? He noticed her looking him over.

  “Mother's political rally events are always formal,” he said with a smile, “and everyone is expected to dress their patriotic best.” Politics! A certain face came to mind—a face she needed to avoid at all costs, but J'Kor read her thoughts, adding, “But I know for a fact that D'Pendul will no' be in attendance tonight. I wired Mother and checked on the final guest list. He is away on business.”

  Lyra breathed a sigh of relief. “What shall I wear then?”

  “Do no' worry about that,” he said, grinning mysteriously. “I got you covered.”

  After her shower, Lyra found J'Kor strumming gently on his six-string in the great room as he waited for her. The intricate picking made a haunting, flowing melody she had never heard before.

  “I was right,” she said. “You do play it better.”

  “Oh, I am afraid I have gotten quite rusty in the last several years.” His fingers deftly picked a few, quick arpeggios, making Lyra grin.

  “So, will you show me now what you want me to wear? It's not that skimpy red thing is it?”

  J'Kor laughed at the face she made. “No. I have a different look in mind for you tonight. But it is no' back yet. I am having it altered, so you will feel more comfortable. It should be along soon.”

  “You did that for me?”

  “I happen to know a great seamstress who does no' live far down the road. I dropped it off this morning after leaving you and Nim at the Weet's.”

  After snapping her jaw shut before J'Kor could read too much into it, Lyra mumbled a grateful thank you and grabbed a thick slice of leftover sweet bread from yesterday to munch as she went to the vanity closet. She was starving again.

  “Do no' thank me before you have seen it,” he called after her. “My taste in gowns is questionable, remember?”

  An unusual energy enveloped Lyra as she made herself ready. She couldn't deny her intense curiosity over J'Kor's mystery gown. The music picked up again, but did not last long. Someone had arrived at the house.

  Lyra brushed on a final stroke of blush and went out to see that, sure enough, it was Mejhisk and Maryn in his grand carriage. A large box was handed to J'Kor who gave a nod of thanks and brought it into the house. Then, to Lyra's great surprise, the couple followed, all dressed up, too!

  “Are they coming as well?”

  “Oh, did I forget to tell you?” he said too innocently. “This is a double date. Mother always invites Sal to come along with me. I think she realizes I am more likely to attend that way.”

  Lyra regarded Mejhisk's approach with hesitation. How was he feeling toward her?

  “Lovely.” His grin was touched with incertitude, but he gave her a kiss on the cheek. If not forgiven, at least a truce.

  Maryn told her, “I hope you like what I did. I spent all day on it.”

  “Maryn, I am sure I will love it, no matter what. I do not deserve such kindness from you.” The latter was addressed to them both in apology.

  Mejhisk flipped fingers into the air and his crooked grin reappeared. “Oh, nonsense,” he said. “And call me Sal.”

  “Okay,” Lyra nodded shyly, “Sal.” A frown bent J'Kor's mouth, which Lyra astutely ignored.

  “Shall we get this on you and see if it works?” Maryn said like she was anticipating showing her work as much as Lyra anticipated seeing it.

  In no time they were hiding in the bedroom to play dress up.

  The gown turned out to be one of the ones Lyra had altered for general size just the other day, the one she had most admired—a sweeping, elegant evening gown of gold brocade. It's modesty problems were that of a lack of sleeves and a neckline that V-ed in a narrow slit all the way down to the midsection. Maryn had sewn a section of white satin between the V and strung it with shiny ribbon back and forth all the way up like a stylized corset. Then she showed Lyra the matching, white satin shrug she had made to cover her shoulders.

  Lyra encased Maryn in a big, unabashed hug, squishing the dress between them. “Thank you! This is so thoughtful. It's just perfect!”

  “Well, let us make sure it fits, first,” Maryn laughed in her shyness.

  It fit perfectly, of course, and Maryn helped her finish her hair. She was just tucking the last curl in place with a hairpin when J'Kor was heard at the door asking if they were ready. Maryn let him in while Lyra strapped on some shoes. She knew they were quite late in getting away.

  “Do you like it?”

  Lyra looked up with a broad smile. “I do. I could not have done a better job on it myself.” She stood and turned a circle. “What do you think?”

  J'Kor's eyes did not leave hers. “You look perfect.”

  Then, checking to see that Maryn had returned to Sal, he closed the bedroom door. “I want to give you something else, too.”

  CHAPTER 18

  From a pant pocket, J'Kor brought out a tiny, gold-papered box. He turned it in his fingers a few times then finally held it out to Lyra without a word. Guardedly, she took the gift, lifting the lid.

  Tears sprang to Lyra's eyes as she saw, curled up uniformly on a piece of fine cloth, her old necklet—Jon's necklet—repaired and polished. Emotions reeling through her, only one word made it out.

  “Why?”

  “Well, it belongs to you.”

  Lyra laughed. “No, I mean, why are you doing this? All of this?” Her motion indicated her gown and the whole way he had been acting today.

  “Is this no' what friends do for each other? Try to help each other be happy?” His smile held a trace of pensiveness. “And I want you to be happy, Lyra”

  J'Kor took th
e necklet from the gift box and undid the old clasp. Then reaching behind Lyra's neck and starting at one end, he wound it around the twisted strands of the joining necklet he had bought her so that the thin chain blended in to the more substantial one. Ending up at the back, J'Kor joined the two ends together again.

  “Will this work all right for you?”

  His humble question was irresistible. With a small sob, Lyra turned and embraced him fully. “Thank you,” she whispered haltingly.

  He hesitated before deciding it might be okay to return the gesture. After a few seconds, he said, “So, has this made it to your list?”

  Lyra giggled through her tears, “What list?”

  “Your list o' acceptable touching.”

  His grin went all the way to the crinkles at his eyes and Lyra stepped back, slightly embarrassed. “Sometimes. Maybe,” she allowed, and his rich laugh caused her insides to do flip flops.

  J'Kor opened the door. “Shall we?”

  Lyra begged a moment to clean up her eyes and dry her cheeks first. She gazed fondly at the reflection of her necklet—necklets—in the vanity mirror, wound together in perfect harmony. Then she grabbed a thick shawl on her way out in anticipation of the cooler drive back home.

  In the great room, Sal had Maryn cuddled on his lap. “Well, it is about time. I was beginning to think that perhaps you had changed your strange tune, Lovely, and were finally giving poor Kade here—” But Sal didn't finish his sentence when he saw her. He whistled instead. “The next time I am confined to my bed in a horrid sickness, will you promise to come heal me looking like that?” J'Kor's warning glare, however, made him retract with, “Granted, I do prefer bared, soft shoulders, myself.” And Maryn's exposed shoulder was given a warm kiss. “Mmm, much more touchable.”

  “Come along, lover boy,” J'Kor drolled. “We are already going to miss half the dancing as it is.”

  This got Sal moving.

  One more peck of his khar's skin and he stood, hefting the giggling Maryn in his arms and carrying her out the door all the way to his carriage. Lyra and J'Kor followed in more traditional fashion.

  “More dancing?” she said.

  “Every fine event must have dancing. It is Caldreen's national pastime, after all.”

  Lyra laughed. “I thought that was disc.”

  The ride to the capital went much faster than Lyra thought possible. Granted, Sal's carriage was superbly outfitted with a top of the line suspension system as it moved swiftly along behind two strong threshers pulling the lightweight coach with ease. Furthermore, at a way station about halfway, they transitioned to a rented taxi on runners that slid even faster on the murodium tracking the rest of the way.

  It was the company, however, that most helped the time to slip away. Lyra and Maryn fell into easy conversation over sewing and art and Maryn's latest projects while, spurred on perhaps by Lyra's reminder, J'Kor and Sal slipped into analysis and debate on how the competitive disc season was progressing.

  The beautiful twilight settled into an even more beautiful evening as they journeyed onward. Every once in a while, Lyra had to touch her necklet, and every once in a while she would catch J'Kor's small grin as she did so. Every once in a while his arm, draped behind her along the back seat, would shift and his fingers would brush over her shoulder in a gentle stroke, and every once in a while she would catch herself staring over at him long after he had finished speaking. A period of inward scolding would follow, yet, when he happened to lean across her to point out the city through the window as it appeared around the bend, Lyra didn't mind at all when he let his hand fall casually to rest over her knee. Then J'Kor gave it a squeeze.

  Okay, not so casually.

  Oh, Lyra, what are you doing?

  The J'Kor family mansion, nestled near the city center in a fashionable neighborhood, was not so large as Salkin Mejhisk's. However, what it lacked in size, it made up for in style. While Sal's held a sprawling country charm, the Lady J'Kor's household was set up to host the elite of power and influence in the nation.

  They slid up the circular drive to the stone walled courtyard that marked the formal entrance. Its colorful potted plants and graceful statues accentuated the impressive fountain in the center that towered over the impressed guests. Brightly lit torches lined the walls. Tall, fluted columns bordered either side of the covered entryway. Through wide, arched windows was seen evidence of a very well attended, very high-class event inside.

  “Wow. You grew up here?”

  “Aye. Rather tiresome, really. I could no' touch anything, I was no' supposed to get my clothes dirty, and no pets.”

  Lyra grinned at him.

  Sal and Maryn went ahead while J'Kor helped Lyra down. He brought her hand up for a kiss and covered it with his own. “Lyra, I need to tell you something before we go inside.”

  “What?” He had another surprise prepared for her?

  “D'Pendul is no' on the guest list … but Malig'ahnt is.”

  “What?”

  “He is here, and it would be in your best interest to publicly apologize to him.”

  “You want me to do what?” Lyra cried, pulling from his grasp.

  “The committee has still no' made its final determination regarding his charges against you, and a formal, sincere apology—”

  “Wait. How long have you known he would be here?”

  “… I found out earlier today when I spoke with Mother over the wire. She thinks it is the best thing you can do to help yourself, and I agree.”

  “Well, what if I don't agree?” Lyra retorted a little more hotly than intended. “And thank you, by the way, for withholding important information from me again, sir.”

  J'Kor bristled. “Why do you think it is a bad idea? Are you no' interested in taking every opportunity to ensure your own safety?”

  Disgusted, Lyra turned away. But he was right. Unfortunately. “I don't know if I can do it. What if he gets physical again?”

  “I doubt he will try anything here, but if he does,” J'Kor paused as if he knew his next words would leave a bad taste in his mouth, “then you must humbly take his strike, and thank him for it afterward.”

  Lyra's teeth gritted within her. Meek. Submissive. It was the right strategy. Drat.

  “You need to do this, Sugarpip.”

  Lyra pressed fingers to her temples. “Why couldn't you have told me earlier today and given me time to prepare?”

  “I was afraid if I told you too soon, you would no' want to come and make up an excuse for staying home.”

  “You are probably right about that,” she said, turning on him.

  “And I really wanted you to be with me tonight.”

  “I know,” Lyra droned, “because you do not wish to look too available.”

  “Because,” he countered, pointedly, “there is no one else I would rather have at my side.”

  Oh, my goodness!

  Dangerous. Very dangerous.

  “… Okay,” she relented. “But I'm such a coward I will probably screw it all up by laying him flat at his first accidental twitch.”

  Now J'Kor laughed. “Give yourself more credit, Sugarpip. We both know you are no coward.”

  Well, right now she wanted to be. With a grimace, Lyra said, “Okay. Let's go.”

  “That is my girl.” And J'Kor laced his fingers through hers. “I will be right there with you. I promise.”

  Upon entering J'Kor's childhood home, they immediately spotted Lady Pryn, looking very well put together and surrounded by suitors. Lyra watched the young noblewoman and J'Kor acknowledge each other with a nod. His: reserved, but cordial. Hers: with a flitting glance at Lyra before turning up her nose to go back to her attendees. Sal approached, unusually stolid.

  “The rumor is,” he murmured darkly, “that you threw yourself shamelessly at Shasmae to get her to spend the night with you, then became embarrassingly clingy when she left as quickly as possible this morning.”

  Lyra was floored by J'Kor's response.<
br />
  “Good.”

  Sal's response to that floored her even further. “Brother, are you sure you are okay with letting that be the story?”

  “Aye. It will let Shasmae save face.”

  Lyra regained control of her faculties enough to say, “What are you talking about? You told me you didn't sleep with her.”

  The best friends exchanged looks and Sal went off to find his khar for a dance.

  “That was the truth,” J'Kor said, leading her toward a valet taking coats, “but not the whole truth.” They handed off her shawl and he took a moment to straighten her shrug's collar. “Shasmae is beautiful and kind and intelligent, and she was willing and trying to please, as I am sure you noticed. I was trying to enjoy her company as well, but before things got very far, I realized we had a problem.”

  “What was it?” He had had everything in place: a romantic setting, a gorgeous, willing woman, a house essentially to themselves.

  His brow turned troubled. “We were both trying. She was trying to like my home, my reality. I was trying to appreciate her tastes. We were both trying very hard to make it work.”

  Lyra still didn't understand. “It looked to me like you were making it work. Quite well.” Some of the intense jealousy she had felt last night blossomed once again in her chest and she went to work at his bow sash that was crooked again. How he ever survived tying that thing on his own before she came along—

  “No, it was no' working. At least no' for me.” And J'Kor's smile turned almost sad as he gently brushed back a loose strand of hair from Lyra's face. Then he let his hand linger to cup her jaw. “I decided,” he said, “that it was no' worth trying so hard to make it work. No' when I have experienced how effortless it can be. Like it is with you.”

  Lyra's heart skipped three beats! Four! Four and a— “Sir—”

  “Kade.”

  Lyra shut her eyes. “My lord,” she corrected tersely. They were in public after all, though no one was nearby. “How in the world can you make that conclusion? I have been nothing but frustration and trouble to you.”

  “Dancing at Burhnee's?” he calmly reminded.