Bride by Command (24 page)

Offering beauty advice was so much more fun than mending. Extra earnings aside, she would have to talk to Jahn about this new employment. It was hideously tedious. Seeing Melusina and Anrid the other day, recognizing the amazing changes in their appearance and in their lives, made her long to do something more than mend crimson robes and linen shirts.

A rakish-looking man with a beautiful woman in tow rushed into the room from outdoors. No one else paid him much mind, but Morgana’s head snapped up at the intrusion. She felt unusually queasy, and the hint of illness made her cranky. “You’re not supposed to come in this way,” she said, annoyed that the couple was having so much fun while she was forced to mend an endless pile of clothing.

The dark-haired man who looked more than a little unscrupulous glared at her, and Morgana immediately regretted speaking.

“Do you not know who this is, girl?” Nattie asked. “This is Prince Alixandyr. He comes and goes as he pleases.”

Must be nice . . .
Before Morgana had an opportunity to apologize, Nattie continued. “Forgive her, m’lord. She’s new.”

“How was I to know he’s a prince?” Morgana asked. “He doesn’t look like much to me,” she whispered in a voice that carried more than she intended. Jahn was worth a hundred of this ne’er-do-well prince, she would imagine.

Nattie studied Prince Alixandyr with a more critical eye. “You do look a mite rough, m’lord.”

The prince smiled tiredly at Nattie and ignored Morgana altogether. Just as well. “I’ve had a trying journey and want only to rest for a while before I resume my duties. A few days of complete privacy away from prying eyes and questions are all that I need, and for that to happen, no one can know I’m home. Can I rely on your silence?” He looked about the room. “I ask for discretion from all of you, if you please.”

“How about discretion, a tub of hot water, and a warm meal?” Nattie asked. “I think I can even scrounge up some of your favorite sweet bread.”

Without warning the prince hugged Nattie, who squealed in surprise and blushed like a girl. He then kissed her cheek. “I would be forever grateful.”

Nattie tried to look proper as the prince withdrew, and Morgana could not help but smile. Perhaps the prince was not such a bad sort after all. A wearying bit of traveling might explain his rough appearance.

“I’ve never known you to be so gregarious, m’lord,” Nattie said with a smile. Then she glanced at the prince’s companion. “Would you like discretion, water, and food for two, m’lord?”

“I would.”

“You’ll have it,” Nattie assured her prince.

When the prince and his woman were gone, Nattie looked at every woman in the room with calculating eyes. “Not a one of you will say a word to anyone about who you saw here today. The prince has asked for discretion, and he will get it. Is that understood?”

Everyone nodded, even Morgana. Still, she had to wonder if anyone would care overly much about the return of Prince Alixandyr and a woman who was obviously to him what Melusina and Anrid had once been to the emperor. Princes were even less worthy than emperors.

And his woman had
no
need of Morgana’s beauty advice.

JAHN
made use of hidden passages to travel from one level to another on the occasions when there were many palace residents about, using the stairway between Level Eight and Level Seven. All the while, on the public stairway or the hidden, he wondered if he could pull off this charade much longer. He dreaded Morgana’s reaction to the truth, hated even more knowing she was going to be so angry she might never forgive him. Love or no, the string of lies had gotten out of hand.

Not all was lies. He did love her; she did love him. He had never expected to find love in this contest, but he could not deny that was what he’d discovered with Morgana. Could he keep it? Did she love him enough to forgive all that he had done?

After learning of Princess Edlyn’s death, he should’ve immediately collected Morgana from the laundry, told her the truth, and locked her away until she forgave him. The murder of a princess who might have many enemies and a tragic riding accident might have nothing at all in common, but he could not be certain of that until he had proof.

He could not pretend that nothing had changed, and he could not continue to hide from his responsibilities for many hours of the day, as he had in weeks past. An emperor did not work sunup to sundown like a blacksmith or a cobbler, but was on call to his ministers and his people at all hours of the day and night. With these newest developments, he knew he could no longer continue to live another, simpler life after the sun set.

Jahn waited for Morgana’s return in the room he had claimed for them, anxious to see her after a long day of meetings with his ministers. He needed to see her, he needed the respite he always found in her company.

He didn’t relish the idea of sending three unwanted women home when he took Morgana as his bride, any more than he looked forward to smoothing the waters with the king of Tryfyn or sending his condolences to Lady Verity’s family. He had no choice. When he’d begun this foolish contest, it had seemed like a lark. That was no longer true, as he found himself planning a lifetime with one special woman who was like no other.

The door opened and Morgana stepped into the room, bidding a sweet and tired farewell to Iann, who, at Jahn’s instruction, had “accidentally” run into her as she left the laundry, as one sentinel or another did every day. Ignorant of her status or not, Morgana was empress, and she deserved an escort. From now on, a single man could not suffice. How would he explain that away?

She smiled brightly when she saw him, even though her eyes were tired. Perhaps allowing her to work, as she’d said she wanted to do, was a mistake. An empress should have nothing to do but to make herself pretty and entertain if it pleased her and love her emperor. Morgana should be waited upon night and day . . . and she would be, very soon.

She walked into his arms and melted there, seeking comfort as he held her, sighing deeply.

“You’re tired.”

“I am,” she responded.

“Tomorrow you will not go to the laundry,” Jahn insisted. It was no small concern that two of the bridal candidates were dead. One had been an accident and one an assassination, but that did not make Morgana seem any less fragile to him.

She laughed lightly. “I will not quit because I have had a few long days. We will need the extra money when the babies start to come.”

Babies. Jahn’s heart leapt at the thought. There would be babies, of course, and he would not be at all surprised if Morgana was carrying an heir very soon. If she was not already with child. The production of an heir was important; it was the reason for this bridal contest. And yet, it was also secondary to what he had found.

“I’ve been given a raise in my salary,” he said. “We’ll have everything we need, and you will not have to work at all.”

“Why did you get a raise in your salary?”

He was tired of the lies, tired of spinning one story after another. “There are some things I cannot tell you,” he said. “Not yet. Just trust me in this. Let me take care of you.”

“I knew you were special to someone other than me,” she teased, and then Morgana rose up onto her toes and kissed him, and they shared the kiss of a man and woman who knew one another well. It was the kiss of lovers and partners, of friends and companions, of man and wife.

The way she undressed him was gentle and insistent, and he took great care with removing her plain linen shift. They came together in a way that was inevitable and important, and he was able to temporarily dismiss all the problems of a country, all the pains of his mistakes.

His flesh against hers, as they fell into the bed they shared, was a simple pleasure he had never before paid much mind. Morgana was different from other women. She was his. His wife. His empress. The last and only woman he would ever love.

“I am no longer tired,” she said as she kissed his throat and her hands roamed wonderfully. “There was a moment this evening when I thought I would have to ask Iann to carry me up the stairs, I was so weary, and yet now I feel a burst of new energy. My heart swells and my body sings, all because you hold me. You are magical,” she whispered into his ear. “Your magic has changed my life. How did I ever live without you?”

How did I ever live without you?
Those words seemed more important and heartfelt than the oft-repeated “I love you.” The words touched Jahn in a way he had not expected, and in another way they hurt. He did not deserve Morgana’s love, not yet. He would, though. He would earn her love again and again, if he had to.

He lost himself inside her, in a way he had come to need as much as air to breathe and water to drink. There was pleasure and more; there was joining and joy and shared release.

They lay entwined for a while, breathing hard and barely moving, before Jahn spoke. “I swore to you that I would protect that which is mine,” he said.

“You did.” Morgana ran her hand up his bare back, seeking connection even now.

“I promise you now that you will never want for anything in this life. I will give you all that any woman might possibly desire, and you will never again think to seek employment of any kind. You will be my wife and the mother of my children. That is all the employment you will ever need.”

“I only wanted to help . . .”

“I will provide; you will make our home. Wherever it might be,” he added, wondering how she would like their quarters on Level Eight when he introduced them to her. They were much finer than this room, and were worlds away from a rustic room over a tavern, a room which had become their first happy home.

As Morgana fell asleep in his arms, Jahn wondered . . . How forgiving was his empress? Was their love enough to overcome what he had done?

 

 

KRISTO
traveled well into the night, putting as many miles as possible between himself and the mercenaries he’d met with earlier in the day. They were ready for whatever might happen—Rikka had prepared them for every contingency.

As it had in days past, his mind went to Lady Rikka, former empress and broken female. She would be dead by now, one way or another. Had she bled to death or had her assassin Trinity been able to exact his revenge? He did not know, and frankly did not care. Kristo was more concerned with what lay ahead than he was with what lay behind. Rikka was dead, and that was all that mattered. He would miss her hatred and her bitter need for vengeance, but it wasn’t as if he needed her. She’d done her part, and she’d done it very well.

When he saw the palace rising in the moonlight, he smiled as he realized, for the first time, that his daughter was there. Not just in Arthes, not miles away waiting to be found, but in the palace itself. The knowledge came to him in a burst, clear and real and indisputable. He had worried for nothing. Lady Danya could be disposed of or dismissed, and Kristo would make his daughter empress and his grandson emperor. Emperor Jahn had done his best to keep peace, to amuse and pacify the people of his country, to keep the people happy and safe. What Kristo wanted, what his grandson would want, would be quite the opposite.

Absolute power awaited.

Without Rikka’s well-known name and political connections, gaining entrance to the palace would be a bit trickier for Kristo than he’d planned, but he did have Lady Danya to help him. The girl would do whatever he asked. There was no reason to tell her, just yet, that she wouldn’t be needed to fill the position of empress after all.

 

 

RAINER
positioned himself not too far from Lady Danya’s room, hiding in an alcove while she made her way down the wide hallway to retire for the evening.

She looked older and more tired with every passing day. A face which had once been beautiful was turning haggard and lined, as if she were being drained from the inside by something dark and ugly. The woman he saw treat everyone with disregard and disdain was not the woman he had come to know on the long journey from her home to Arthes, and on evenings spent talking and sometimes crying here in this palace—before she had callously dismissed him from her life.

Something was wrong. He should not care what bothered Lady Danya. She would make a totally unsuitable empress in so many ways. She was not pure of body or of heart, and she had not only
not
charmed the residents of the palace, she’d blatantly made enemies of many of them and simply annoyed the rest. If not for the tears she’d shed against his chest, if not for the handful of late-night conversations which revealed to him the real woman, he might think her cold and simply unpleasant, but something was wrong. Something was eating her alive from the inside out.

He should not care what it was, but he did. Danya was more than she revealed to others, and she had touched his heart. After she closed her chamber door, Rainer exited the alcove and sat on the cold stone floor to lean against the wall, taking a position where he could see the door to her bedchamber. It was going to be a long night, but he could not leave her alone. Even if she did not know he was here . . . he would watch over her, the only way he knew how.

 

 

JAHN
was not happy to be called away in the middle of the night, but it wasn’t as if he could sleep. When Morgana had awakened and he’d ordered a large, hot meal delivered to their chambers, she had eaten ravenously and spoken with vigor about her day, almost halfheartedly mentioning that she’d seen Prince Alixandyr and a woman slip into the palace in secret. She was not supposed to tell anyone that she’d seen the prince, but that didn’t include her husband, she argued. She could not be expected to keep secrets from him.

The prince was a rather rough-looking fellow, to hear her tell it.

So, Alix was here somewhere, and he did not want anyone to know. Not yet.