Rebel's Honor: Book One in Crown of Blood Series

by Gwynn White

“That’s . . . unfortunate that you’ve had a change of heart overnight.” Lynx bit her lip, thinking furiously on what to say to rectify this situation.

  Lukan turned to Axel. His cousin’s head was cocked to the side, grinning possessively at her.

  Red infused Lukan’s face. “Axel, am I to take it you send congratulations on our upcoming marriage?”

  “You know I don’t waste time with platitudes.”

  Lukan glared at Axel. “In your usual, annoying way, you haven’t answered my question. So I will ask it—”

  “Spare me, Lukan.” Axel held Lukan’s gaze with lighthearted but determined ease. “I give you my word, nothing would make me happier than for you and Lynx to both get what you deserve.”

  Lynx fiddled with her hair, feeling like an ostrich hen between two warring cocks. It was obvious the two men had played this staring game before. She wondered who would cave first.

  After a moment, Lukan dropped his eyes. Lynx raised her eyebrows in surprise. Lukan was intimidated by Axel? Why? He was the crown prince, and Axel a mere general who would have to swear fealty when Lukan took the throne—or whatever passed for fealty in the Chenayan court.

  Fascinated by this strange dynamic, she studied Lukan’s face. It was darkened by anger. Why he didn’t express that rage to Axel was yet another question to ponder.

  Voice devoid of any victory, Axel said, “Come, Lukan, let’s find some stags.”

  From his tone, Lynx guessed she wasn’t invited. It seemed she was right because, after an aching look at her, filled with yearning lust, Lukan rammed his spurs into his horse’s side, shooting forward into the gloom.

  Yet another gray area, Lynx rocked back on her horse. This place is seething with them.

  Axel turned to Lynx, his eyes soft and surprisingly caring. “I’ve read enough intelligence reports on you to know you can handle yourself in most situations. So, as much as you dislike it, this forest is no different from anything else you may have encountered. Remember, it’s just dark. Ignore that, and you’ll soon track your way to Tao.”

  He gave her a mock bow and disappeared after Lukan.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Furious with Axel for humiliating him in front of Lynx—not to mention flirting with her—Lukan engaged in no conversation, barring an occasional grunt, as Axel led him deeper and deeper into the forest.

  His cousin didn’t seem interested in conversation, either; his eyes scanned the ground for fresh game spoor.

  Face hard, Lukan hacked away at the overhanging branches and brambles barring his way, relishing an opportunity to vent his anger.

  As yet, he had no idea what to do about Lynx.

  After the distressing vision of her son—their son—and her army, followed by the game of tiles with Axel and Tao, sleep had been impossible. Before dawn, he’d left the palace to go riding, happily skipping his prenuptial breakfast. He’d hoped the fresh forest air and the absence of Felix’s ever-present cameras and recording devices would help him decide what to do about his upcoming marriage.

  It hadn’t.

  The problem was, every time he thought of Lynx, his manhood hardened. That made rational decision-making almost impossible. Why reject a woman when he craved her? And, despite the vision, he wasn’t yet convinced he was the victim of the prophecy. What a great shame to miss bedding the sexiest woman in Chenaya because of a curse that didn’t apply to him.

  Hours dribbled by, with no sign of a stag.

  Lukan’s horse quivered as it struggled through the forest up the mountain slope. Gullies, fallen trees, moss-covered rocks, and snagging creepers snaked across the spongy black ground, all contriving to make it an exhausting ride.

  He rubbed sweat from his eyes. It may have been cool in the forest, but he was steaming from exertion. With one hand, he unbuttoned his velvet waistcoat, wishing he could call a quit to the hunt. But that would be admitting defeat, tantamount to saying Axel was tougher than he was. Axel would exploit that forever. So, as long as Axel kept riding, he would, too.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Lukan pulled to a stop.

  Axel had dismounted yet again and studied the forest floor, looking for spoor. He looked up, excitement lighting his eyes.

  “Fresh tracks. Come.” Showing no sign of fatigue, Axel remounted.

  A stag flashed through the undergrowth to Lukan’s right.

  Whooping with delight, Lukan wheeled his horse around and set off after him.

  “He’s mine!” Lukan shouted to Axel as he jumped his horse over yet another fallen tree.

  Axel’s hard laughter rang out. “Not if there’s any tracking involved.”

  Lukan grimaced. Spending his youth in the archive and his observatory while Axel served in the military meant his cousin was, by far, the better tracker.

  The stag disappeared back into the brush. Lukan pulled his horse up, looking for an easy way around the brambles, thistle, and low-hanging branches.

  “If you want something, go and get it, Lukan,” Axel said, shooting his horse through the undergrowth as if it were lush meadow grass.

  Antlers swept back, the stag bolted deeper into the trees.

  “The motto of your life, isn’t it, Axel? Take what you want, when you want it, just because it’s there.”

  “Is this me you’re talking about, or you?” Axel shouted back, swatting branches away from his face. “Now shut up and ride, or the bugger will get away.”

  Considering the speed with which Axel was chasing Lukan’s trophy, he didn’t have time to object to his cousin’s command. He slapped his horse sharply on the rump with his riding crop and ducked low as it powered into the thicket. Cursing at the new collection of scratches he was garnering, he focused on the prize.

  It was high time he bagged a kill; his last few hunts had been dismal, with either Axel or Tao riding home with the antlers. His father had been particularly mocking about those failures. Despite being an adult on the brink of matrimony, that criticism still burned.

  Lukan pulled out his bow and arrow, but the brambles were too thick to consider shooting.

  Eyes wild, the stag broke out of the underwood. Kicking up creepers and mud, it wove through the trees, up the hill.

  Axel let fly an arrow, but it went wide as his horse stumbled. He swore. “The horses are too tired for this, and we still have hours before we get home.”

  “Yours, maybe. Not mine.” Lukan would not fail again. He kneed his mount around Axel and kicked it into action. It whinnied as he forced it after the stag.

  “Lukan, stop!” Axel called.

  Lukan ignored him, riding on. He had not gone more than twenty paces when he saw the stag silhouetted against a backdrop of trees, its magnificent antlers tauntingly close at hand.

  The perfect shot.

  He pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and sent it after the stag.

  It missed.

  With renewed energy, the stag sprang away into the brush.

  “Dragon’s curses.” Lukan let fly another couple of arrows and was rewarded with a triumphant twang as steel bit into flesh.

  The stag screamed. But instead of falling, it took off, scrambling through the trees. Lukan slumped in his saddle as Axel looked at him in disgust.

  “Nice shot, cousin. As much as it burns me, we have to leave a wounded animal in the forest.”

  “What do you mean?” Adrenaline and humiliation sent a spike of energy through Lukan. He kicked his horse into action, shouting over his shoulder, “The stag’s mine, and I have a perfect blood spoor to follow now.”

  “Have you been watching the time?” Axel didn’t move from his spot. “I’ll send some servants to take care of it.”

  Shocked by Axel’s unsportsmanlike comment—no one ever left a wounded animal in the forest—Lukan peered at the sky through the almost impenetrable canopy of trees.

  Dusk was creeping in.

  Trust the soldier to notice details like that.

  It fueled his irritation.
>
  “You’re quite capable of getting us back in the dark, Axel.” As Lukan set off, following the blood, he heard Axel swear.

  “There’s a ball tonight. Or have you forgotten?”

  Lukan groaned. Either way, he was going to earn his father’s ire. He made a quick decision. “We’ve tracked this confounded animal all day. I’m not stopping now for some stupid ball.”

  “Fine.” Axel swung his horse around. “I’ll take care of Lynx for you.”

  Wrong decision!

  Lukan’s blood turned to ice. His cousin had not gone more than a few paces when Lukan pulled up at his side. “The hell you will. She’s mine, so you keep your paws off her.”

  “Or what, Lukan?” Axel shot back, not even bothering to make eye contact.

  “You forget that I’ll be your emperor, Axel.” Lukan waved his riding crop for emphasis. “It will be in my power to cut you off from everything you value. Kill you, even.”

  Axel shrugged. “Please. Don’t make me laugh. You know as well as I do that you need my talents too much to risk losing me.”

  Lukan wanted to deny that he needed Axel, but he couldn’t. All his life, he’d known he didn’t have the stuff that made an Avanov emperor great, the same stuff Axel oozed from every pore. It was one of the reasons his father hated him.

  Axel, on the other hand, was the perfect Avanov. Axel’s brand of strutting, conquering arrogance had always been encouraged in Avanov men.

  Try as he might, Lukan could never match his cousin’s absolute confidence that everything he did was right, and that he would always win every battle. It went way beyond injustice. And Lukan was supremely tired of it. He twitched his crop, thinking hard about cracking Axel with it.

  That would give the bastard something to think about.

  Axel’s eyebrows quirked, first at Lukan’s grim expression and then at the crop. His cousin surprised him by saying, “Nothing would make me happier than you taking a shot, Lukan. After all, I’m the one who spent my childhood trying to teach you to stand up to bullies.”

  Lukan flushed, and his jaw locked mulishly. “My father wasn’t just a bully.”

  “True.” Axel rubbed his ribs, a telling gesture. His cousin had received more than his fair share of kicks from Mad Mott. “Still—”

  Axel eyed him expectantly, but Lukan knew he would have to be far angrier than this to ever risk hitting his cousin.

  Axel sighed, looking disappointed. After a moment, he said, “Lukan, we both know why we put up with each other. I’ll be your Lord of the Conquest, and you’ll wear the shiny emperor hat. You’ll use my brain, and together we’ll rule the world. That way, we both get want we want. Isn’t that right?”

  Lukan scoffed at the inference that Axel was more intelligent than he, but he wasn’t going to argue about that now. “That doesn’t mean Lynx is yours.”

  “I think we should leave that for Lynx to decide.” Axel kneed his horse into a fast trot. “She’s as intelligent as she is beautiful. She’ll figure out who to give her heart to.”

  Lukan brought his whip crashing down against the closest tree. His horse spooked, almost tumbling him from the saddle. That’s why he rarely resorted to violence. It invariably went wrong for him.

  When he brought it under control, he shouted to Axel’s retreating form, “I may have to put up with you controlling every other aspect of my life, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you play with Lynx. She’s mine, and I intend on marrying her.”

  Axel laughed at him.

  Hatred burning in his chest, he set off after Axel toward the palace and Lynx. He had not gone more than a few paces when his cousin reeled his horse around.

  “Now what?” Lukan demanded.

  “I have a stag to kill.”

  Before Lukan could reply, Axel kicked his horse into a fast trot, following the stag’s blood spoor. Lukan closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Axel had played him. Again. The challenge over Lynx had been nothing more than a ruse to lure him back to the palace so Axel could claim his trophy.

  Or was it?

  His cousin’s sense of honor was a curious thing. Leaving an animal dying in the forest was unacceptable to Axel, but stealing Lukan’s betrothed if it served him? The Axel he knew and loathed wouldn’t bat an eyelid about that.

  Lukan hesitated, torn between his two prizes.

  Moments later, he spurred his horse on toward the palace.

  As doubtful as he was about his marriage to Lynx, he wouldn’t stand back and let Axel win. Not this time.

  Making her want him as much as he wanted her was a greater trophy than another pair of antlers hanging on his wall.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Count Felix had arranged a masked ball to celebrate Lukan’s betrothal to Lynx.

  As usual, Lukan was late.

  This time, however, his tardiness was unintentional. Lukan needed to see Lynx tonight if he was to claim her as his prize. Unfortunately, the ride back to the palace took much longer than he’d anticipated.

  Hair still damp from his shower, he raced down the passage toward the ballroom. He caught his reflection in a large gilded mirror and stopped short. His waistcoat and breeches looked disheveled. He pulled them straight, then noticed his knee-high boots lacked their usual high-gloss finish. He hopped on one foot, trying to polish the one boot against the other.

  His valet had been loath to let him leave the apartment, but he’d overruled the man. Although Lukan was undecided about the curse, he’d crawl naked through barbed wire before he suffered the humiliation of Axel claiming Lynx. If Axel had ridden off to take care of the stag, it was likely he hadn’t yet returned, but Lukan wasn’t taking any chances.

  He changed feet, giving his other boot a cursory polish, and then took a deep, calming breath before slipping a dragon mask over his head. After a last look in the mirror, he strode into the lobby adjacent to the ballroom.

  It was time to turn all his charm on Lynx.

  She was waiting for him; Tao and Kestrel, too. Hardly surprising, as the ball couldn’t start without him. Irritation sparked off them as they paced the floor. He would have to rectify that. His eyes slid over them, taking in Tao’s raptor mask and the dramatic fanned peacock tail covering Kestrel’s face, finally stopping at Lynx.

  Her lithesome body had been given curves by her shimmering black corset and bustle. He relished the illusion, knowing she would be just as beautiful naked. Visions of her bare legs wrapped around him set his blood racing. He swallowed hard and focused on the rest of her. Black gloves wreathed her arms, and her hair was piled untidily onto her head. Blond tendrils curled down the side of her mask, making him want to reach up and pull her hairpins out, one by one.

  And her mask? It was perfect. Black. Understated. A panther’s face, which magnified the brilliance of her blue eyes.

  She’s like some feline goddess, he thought, half-bemused, half-amazed. A cocktail of emotions, some old, others new, surged through his body: passion, longing, hunger, even adoration that anyone could be so beautiful, so aloof. She’s a temptress, sent here to drive me insane with lust.

  He shook his head, knowing logic and reason, the lodestars of his life, had no place among his feelings for Lynx. Here he stood, looking at the woman who might deliver a son who would slit his throat while he slept, and he didn’t care. That she was capable of training her son to lead an army against him was also not in question. Thorn was no idiot; he would not have trained her to take over his raiders if she couldn’t command men on a battlefield. None of that information was enough to stop the hardening in his groin.

  Struggling to control his wayward breathing, Lukan stopped at her side. “A panther. Do you purr as well as claw?”

  “Only time will tell.” Lynx turned to face him, and he wished to see her expression. But then, the mask wasn’t such a bad idea because she couldn’t see the hunger for her on his face, either.

  He reached for her hand and led her toward the ballroom. “There’ll be a rec
eiving line,” he explained, using the silky voice he reserved for female conquests. “Count Felix will have dragged in all our nearest and dearest, the people with whom you’ll mix on a daily basis.”

  “So in Chenaya, you have a masked ball on the night you’re supposed to meet people?” Lynx shook her head. “That’s novel.”

  He happened to agree. “That’s Felix for you. It’s all a power play, his way of proving he knows everyone, regardless of how they try to hide from him.”

  Lynx made a grating sound in her throat. “He takes some getting used to, that uncle of yours. The words living dead spring to mind.”

  Lukan laughed. “He has chronic sinusitis. Apparently, he was quite sickly as a child.” He glanced at her to check if she was still listening. She appeared to be, so he added, “It’s done nothing to improve his temper. But it’s your back you need worry about, so don’t get on the wrong side of him.”

  “I’ll bear it in mind,” Lynx muttered, so low Lukan had to lean in to hear her.

  He paused at the open set of doors. “You ready for this?”

  “As I’ll ever be. At least the room looks inviting.”

  The gilded room was brilliant with candlelight and flaming torches. A long line of flamboyantly attired guests, faces hidden behind exotic, absurd, or beautiful masks, waited on their pleasure. Minstrels gathered on a stand at one end of the room. At the other, a motley-clad collection of fire-eaters, jugglers, acrobats, and clowns, some leading dancing bears, stood ready to entertain. The heady scent of jasmine, musk, and neroli permeated the air from incense burners along the walls.

  Lukan smiled, understanding how Lynx, who’d lived all her life in a tent, found it overwhelming. Anticipation, more than excitement, trilled through him. Her naivety was to his advantage. If he played his dice right, by the end of the night, Princess Lynx of Norin would be his to tumble. His smile broadened into a grin when Lynx tugged on his arm.

  “I want to dance.”

  He squeezed her hand. “All in good time. The night is still young.” But he stepped with her into the hall.