Khari'na Made (Muse Book 1)

by Jean Winter

  “No, Sursha! I told you before, he has been a gentleman.”

  “So, what, then?” Sursha shot back. “Look, Lyra, I can appreciate what he has done for you—for all of us, in fact—but that does not obligate you to marry the man! He is not one of us. He is a Great Army soldier. You can't possibly feel any—”

  “I love him, Sursha.”

  The admission stopped Sursha's rant dead in its tracks.

  Lyra continued quietly, “I know that sounds crazy, but I do.”

  “No.” Shaking his head, Sursha knelt before her and placed supportive hands at her knees. The taut line of his mouth softened a bit. “He is manipulating you somehow into thinking you love him. Good God in Heaven, Lyra, Jon has only been dead a matter of weeks! Please. Listen to reason.”

  Tears welled up in Lyra's eyes. Sursha reminded her so much of Jon—the thick, unruly curls, the broad face, the stocky build.

  “Sursha,” she said, swiping at the latest flush of tears and sitting up a little taller, “how long has it been?”

  “Well, it has been nearly seven weeks.”

  “Wrong.” Lyra turned steady eyes on her belated husband's younger brother. “It has been seven weeks, three days, and two and a half hours. Sursha, no one remembers Jon's death more keenly than I. I was there, for Heaven's sake! He was killed right before my eyes.” At Sursha's somewhat ashamed lowering of his head, Lyra's voice softened. “I have missed him so much, he has been haunting my dreams. I think about him every minute of every day. I still love Jon, Sursha. I always will. We are sealed for time and eternity, remember? And I can't wait to be with him again, someday.”

  Then Lyra paused for a long look at J'Kor, standing in uncomfortable silence with Bishop Peerz Whetfield. “But, Sursha, I think about him every minute of every day, too. He is there in my heart along with Jon, the kids, you, and everyone else I love. I can't explain what happened.” Now it was Lyra's turn to hang her head. “In fact, my greatest worry right now is that his feelings toward me may have cooled. He has sacrificed everything for me.”

  “Lyra,” Sursha groaned.

  Okay, fine. It seemed he was going to need a different kind of persuasion. Lyra took her brother-in-law's head in her hands. “Sursha, look at it this way. You know how the implants work. I have to stay with him … and I don't want to be living in sin.” Bending to kiss him on the forehead, she gently reminded, “I do not need your blessing, just, please don't try to stop me.”

  It was a long moment before Sursha finally grumbled some kind of assent. He took her into a hug. “I just hope you know what you are doing,” he whispered.

  “Me, too,” she offered frankly into his ear.

  She got a half smile for that and he finally let her go.

  When she returned to Peerz, he watched her very carefully. “Sister Woodrose, do you wish to … marry this man?”

  A noise from the far end of the courtyard interrupted Lyra's intended answer as a pair of men came through the front gate toward the house. J'Kor swore softly.

  “They are here early. Everyone, please, this way.” He motioned toward a side gate that led to other gardens. “The fewer people that see you here, the better.” They all got herded to the other side and J'Kor closed the gate securely behind him before turning to Lyra. “I have an appointment with these men. They are my lawyers and I am afraid they are going to take up my time for the next couple hours. If … if we are going to be married,” he nodded politely to Peerz, “it has to be now. I know your friends wish to be on their way and out o' the city before nightfall.”

  “Right now?” Lyra's mouth hung open. She was suddenly painfully aware of how she looked, how she was dressed. Right now?

  No flowers? No wedding swathe? No special event? No nothing!

  Their joining ceremony would be the more formal occasion!

  “Sister Woodrose?” Peerz inquired again.

  Lyra rubbed at her forehead, and J'Kor watched her from the gate. That steady gaze. Enveloping. Consuming. “Yes! Yes, I do.”

  Peerz's turn to J'Kor took an eternity. “And you, sir? Do you wish to wed this woman?”

  “Aye.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Lowet, who had essentially kept quiet and out of the way during the whole proceeding, shook his head wonderingly while Sursha stood next to him, expression hard as stone. Lyra, meanwhile, resorted to staring at the ground. She suddenly couldn't meet eyes with any of the four men standing around her.

  Holy Father! Was this really the right thing to do?

  “Well,” Peerz said with a scratch of his head, “I suppose all I really need is a pen and some paper to document this.” A mumble came from J'Kor that he had something on him they could use and Peerz turned to his friends. “Brother Woodrose? Brother Path? Would you be willing to act as witnesses?”

  Lowet offered an affirming grunt.

  Sursha, a small, resigned nod.

  It all became a strange, hazy dream. Lyra was not aware exactly when J'Kor came to her side and took her by the hand, nor when Peerz placed himself before them and began to speak. Lyra hardly heard a word. Her pulse pounded in her head as more fears and doubts rang clangorously through it. Men spoke beyond the gate as a servant showed them into the house. Leaves overhead rustled lightly in the late spring breeze. Sursha's eyes lay heavily on her as he stood rigid, brooding, to the side.

  At some point, she said something in the affirmative and J'Kor said something after that, but it wasn't until he shifted that she snapped out of her confused daze. She thought Bishop Whetfield had just asked if J'Kor happened to have any token to present her.

  “Oh, er, aye, as a matter o' fact,” he murmured, and from an inside, coat breast pocket J'Kor removed a familiar necklet—two familiar, intertwined necklets. At her surprise he grinned softly. “Sal found this—that night—when he strode through the front doors after subduing Serpahn's entire outer guard.”

  Lyra had to grin back. She was so happy to see the chain strands again—both of them.

  “I know there has not been any time to prepare,” Peerz said to the groom, “but would you like to say a few words?”

  J'Kor nodded, but it was a long moment before he seemed even able to get started. “Lyra, I know I am no' the husband you really want, nor is this the life you would choose, but—” He cleared his throat softly, as if afraid to go on and his fingers fiddled with the necklet in his hand. “Thank you,” he finally murmured, “for giving me a chance.”

  Lyra eyed him, mystified. What was she supposed to gather from that?

  Then Peerz was suddenly looking at her for a response. Oh dear. Now she understood J'Kor's hesitation. It had been two weeks since they had seen each other, their last conversation had not ended well, and so much had changed since then.

  This is your wedding. Say what you feel.

  “You have earned a lifetime of chances from me,” she mumbled back up at him. “You have been my guardian. You have been my friend. You became my savior, and now I want you to be my husband.” Lyra threw an uneasy glance toward their two witnesses. “… Really.”

  J'Kor didn't move. He just stood there like he wasn't sure he believed her.

  Finally, Lyra felt compelled to just take the necklets from J'Kor's motionless hand. It looked like she was going to have to put them on herself, or they might all be standing there, staring dubiously at each other, till winter solstice. Well … staring at her.

  Her nervous fingers, however, had problems with the tiny clasps at the back of her neck and Lyra grew even more fretful. Then stronger, gentle ones came to her rescue, taking over the job to a more efficient completion.

  The ordeal over, Lyra and J'Kor went back to facing Peerz. The poor man stood regarding them as probably the most conflicted and tense couple he had ever seen, but he nodded that they were doing just fine—even if it wasn't true.

  “Well,” he finally said, “in the sight of God, our Eternal Father, and these witnesses you may kiss your bride, Officer J'Kor. If you wish.”
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  In a moment, warm and calloused hands were lightly cupping her face; turbulent, gray eyes sought her soul; then soft lips brushed over Lyra's in a touch so light one wouldn't have known the difference from a passing breeze. A burning swelled inside, a vibration of body and soul that simultaneously rocked her to life and threatened to shake her to pieces, and Lyra became certain that the only thing keeping her upright was the gentle hold J'Kor had on either side of her jaw.

  Then it was over.

  He released her.

  Wait. He was done already? Their first kiss, not only as husband and wife, but … ever, and he was done? Lyra wanted to throw her arms around the Caldreen'n and try that again, a lot harder and longer. The reservations he may be feeling toward her didn't matter. The fact that they probably needed several hours to calmly talk things through and find out where they were at didn't matter. Lyra wanted more of that—whatever it was. She needed it.

  Lyra started to reach for the carefully combed head, but his husky murmur checked her. “Join me for dinner later?”

  “Uh … when?”

  “Half past seventeen o'.” J'Kor stepped back. “I am sorry, I have to go now. I will be in a meeting until then.” Straightening himself, he turned to Peerz. “Thank you, er, Bishop, for doing that for us,” he said, gripping the man's shoulder most respectfully. “I wish you good journey. The supplies I told you about are in the carriage's trunk.”

  Peerz returned the gesture and thanked him for his generosity. Then he quickly had J'Kor sign the hasty document of marriage scribbled onto the scrap of paper.

  The addressing of Sursha and Lowet was in much the same manner: “Good journey to you. I hope you find your loved ones well upon your return.”

  Sursha only mumbled, “Please. Take good care of her.”

  Lyra was still dazed as J'Kor turned back to her with a courteous bow. “Mrs. J'Kor.”

  Then he was gone. Lyra stared blankly after him.

  “Er, Mrs. J'Kor, would you please sign here and I will leave this document in your hands for safe keeping?”

  “Huh?” Lyra was going over the sound of that name in her head. Peerz held the paper out to her meaningfully and Lyra finally registered his words. “Oh, uh, yes.”

  The slightly rumpled paper had phrases written in Aultscryp of solemn testimony that Peerz had wed two people with the required number of witnesses. I'm married again. I am married … AGAIN! The enormity of the situation finally, fully hit her and Lyra felt a woozy.

  He needs you. The recurring impression pulsed through her again and a measure of peace embedded itself into her soul. No, this was right, and she would honor him for better or worse, to the day she died. Lyra signed her name next to J'Kor's.

  Peerz took the paper back and offered a gentle hug. “You will be fine, Lyra,” he whispered to her. “He is holding back, but the Spirit has born witness to me that he really does love you. I would not have gone through the ceremony, otherwise.”

  “Thank you, Peerz,” Lyra sniffed, eyes starting to redden again. “So, you are heading out now?”

  “Yes. We just need you to go get your backpack and you will finally be relieved of that heavy burden that has been yours to bear for much too long.” He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. They both knew she would gladly continue to bear the burden if she could return with them.

  “Uh, I don't have it” Lyra had to admit, cringing. “As far as I know it's still back in his home far from here. I haven't been there for two weeks. I'm so sorry.”

  A groan rose up from Lowet. “Well, then let's get going even faster. It looks like we have some more journeying to do before we can go home. Can you at least give us directions?”

  Lyra's nod was in the affirmative. She had been up and down that road to the capital a few times now and she was confident she could direct them. Peerz quickly got Lowet and Sursha's signatures, wrote a little more, himself, on the piece of paper, then presented it to Lyra who tucked her makeshift certificate of marriage into a skirt pocket.

  They walked together to J'Kor's carriage just outside the courtyard—brand new by the looks of it, with a stylish pair of threshers to pull it, too—convertible, modern sliding tracks, and all. Lyra inquired of her children and other family and friends. Sursha finally began to relax and Lyra was glad it was Sursha here instead of her real brother. Luk would have been even more obstinate and protective.

  None of them had been with the kids much longer than Lyra before they struck out to come find her, but she was assured that everyone was settling in just fine in the new locale with her sister's family. Rorn was stepping up to take charge of his younger sisters and be another man about the household. Verise and Iyalyn were faithfully praying for their mother's safety every day.

  Misty-eyed, Lyra made Sursha swear he would pass along her love and assurances that she was fine—not only to her children, but to everyone.

  “I don't think we will spread word around that you willingly married your owner, though,” he told her. “You can imagine the even greater ill will many are feeling toward this nation at the moment. It would not go over well.”

  “I understand, but perhaps some of those feelings will be smoothed over when my husband brings me for a visit.”

  Sursha started. “Has he promised to do such a thing?”

  “That is the plan,” Lyra said hopefully, happy to shed more good light on the man she had just married.

  At the carriage, the trunk was opened to reveal all kinds of traveling food, a few bed rolls, warm coats, a couple hunting knives, and … her backpack! Lyra yanked it out and tore open the flap. Yes! There was the Tohmu'vah, carefully wrapped in its cloth, ready for transport! Her heart filled with love for J'Kor once again as she turned tearful eyes to her astonished Believer brethren.

  Actually handing over the holy artifact, though, was more difficult than Lyra would have thought. She had grown to feel a special connection with it. But it didn't belong to her, and it needed to go back home.

  The sacred object, preserved and returned to Believer hands was a miracle as far as the men were concerned and emotion played in Peerz's throat as he said, “I suppose you might like some directions for your visit home, Mrs. J'Kor.”

  Out of caution, they determined that Peerz would write his directions to the new colony in Aultscryp on the marriage certificate at the bottom. No one was going to see that paper but J'Kor and her, and if someone did, it would take a fluency in the language to even notice the out-of-place, tacked on words.

  A little more last-minute visiting, and Lyra was all too soon giving long, emotional hugs to the three men and watching them climb into the carriage. J'Kor's driver had instructions to take them as far as the western outer limits. The vehicle was out of sight before, with another loud sniff, Lyra made herself turn back to the home. She sent a prayer to the heavens for their safe journey. She also thanked her Eternal Creator from the bottom of her heart for the opportunity to have seen them—and see them leave having essentially fulfilled their mission.

  Then heaving an emotional sigh and fingering her necklet, Lyra let a new anticipation begin to fill her breast. She had a dinner date.

  The antique clock on her new mother-in-law's shelf just inside the door read half past sixteen o'. She only had an hour to get ready! She hauled it back to her room, wondering what kind of plan J'Kor had in mind for them. As she showered she pictured them enjoying a simple meal over a small, corner table somewhere, or perhaps something involving a crackling fire. Or maybe dinner by candlelight in her room?

  Whatever. What really mattered was that they would finally have time to talk. Time unhurried. Time alone. Time for Lyra to work past that starched uniform and rediscover the other man hiding inside that she loved.

  Stepping from the bathroom, dressed, with her damp hair wrapped in a towel, Lyra met Martee walking down the hall who relayed a message from Lord J'Kor that she come find him in the grand hall for dinner.

  Oh.

  Well, it would stand
to reason that his mother would expect him to dine with her, though the image of the three of them seated together at one end of that long room caused Lyra's nose to crinkle. Drat. She was going to have to wait a little longer for that time alone.

  Lyra's hair was unruly now without the calming weight that used to be there and the prettiest frock J'Kor had left for her was only a step up from casual. Lyra grimaced at her very plain reflection. However, as she headed to the dining hall, the morbid thoughts of this far less than ideal wedding day began to fade. Her J'Kor never really cared about formality and elegance—at least, the old him didn't.

  A sound stopped Lyra just outside the doors. Many sounds, actually, from the other side. It was many people, talking and laughing. Uh, oh. Biting her lip, Lyra peeked inside.

  Oh, no, it was a whole party, about thirty guests in all, mingling about, slowly finding their seats!

  Near the head of the table, J'Kor stood in conversation with a few other men, two of which were dressed in uniform like him, and the ladies—double oh, no!—the ladies were in sparkling gowns bedecked in jewels! This was not good. Lyra was not prepared for this at all. Is this really what he intended for their first evening together?

  As if sensing her presence, J'Kor turned and they met eyes. With a small grin, he motioned for her to come to him, but when Lyra fearfully shook her head, his grin disappeared. Placing his long-stemmed goblet on the corner of the table, J'Kor politely excused himself from the circle.

  As Lyra watched his straight, formal figure cross the length of the room toward her, sudden, dark thoughts began to needle at her brain. Unnerving, alarming thoughts. Of course it was easy for him to agree to marry her that quickly in private. It would have no effect here in his outer, society life because no one could ever know! What had changed, however, was that Lyra didn't have any more reason to refuse him. Furthermore, this marriage essentially obliterated his one motivation to help her journey to her people. It would be so easy now to start making excuses to remain in the city for his new job and new responsibilities.