Bride by Command (31 page)

“I don’t care what you can do or what you can’t do,” he said softly. “You’re my wife. My choice has nothing to do with any damned magical abilities. I love you,” he insisted. “I never would’ve touched you if I hadn’t known you were the woman I’d spend my life with.”

If she was not careful, she would forgive him, she would agree to be his empress, and what good could come of that? She didn’t want to live a life built upon a lie. She didn’t want to look at him every day and wonder if—when—he would lie to her again. She had not truly trusted many people in her lifetime, and to live forever with the possibility of betrayal was unthinkable.

Besides, Jahn did not need an empress who had killed and would likely kill again. He did not need to share the burden of the murder she would always have to hide. It was best to push him away from her, as far and as completely as possible. “Never would’ve touched me, eh? I suppose that’s what you said to your good friends Melusina and Anrid.”

He went a little pale.

“It’s not that I expected the emperor to live the life of a monk,” she continued, letting her anger run a bit loose, “but no woman wants to sit down and listen to her supposed husband’s mistresses go on about how talented or fun-loving or . . .”

“I did not touch either of them or any other woman once I claimed you,” Jahn interrupted. “Say what you will, but I have been, and will always be, a faithful husband.”

Morgana fought to remain calm. “I’m sure the woman you choose to be empress will be glad to hear that. There are just a few days until the First Night of the Summer Festival, when your choice must be made. Will you two be married right away? Will it be a large ceremony or something small, with only a few family members and friends in attendance? I’m sure your bride will be lovely, no matter what sort of ceremony you choose to have.”

Jahn’s jaw hardened. So did his eyes. She was not the only one capable of losing her temper. “I am already married.”

Morgana took a brave step toward him, knowing it would not be good for her to get too near. She was vulnerable to him, still. “You’re not married, and you know it. What’s good enough for Jahn Devlyn, sentinel, means
nothing
to an emperor. A claim on a whim and a shared bed might be enough for peasants to call themselves married, but it’s certainly not sufficient for the ruler of a country.” She felt a sliver of ice in her heart but was easily able to restrain it, as Rainer had taught her. “You had your fun, My Lord Emperor. Now release me.”

“Never,” Jahn said as he stalked toward the door.

Her heart thudded too hard, but the ice there did not threaten to break loose. “You did say you’d let me go,” she reminded him.

“Perhaps I was hasty in making that statement.”

“So, I’m to be a prisoner here for the rest of my life?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Jahn snapped as he opened the door.

“You wouldn’t dare!” she cried.

Jahn glanced over his shoulder, and she saw pure frustration on his face. “Watch me.” The door slammed behind him, and Morgana soon sank into her chair. She could not stay here much longer; she was already too close to forgiving the man who had broken her will and her heart, and that would never do.

 

 

KRISTO
had taken his time studying the comings and goings on Level Seven. For two days he’d watched and planned and waited with great patience. Once, in the early morning hours, he’d traveled well beyond the palace walls to meet once more with the small army Rikka had assembled.

He’d also managed to claim a few minutes of General Hydd’s precious time. The general was one of those remarkable people who would do anything for what they believed to be right, no matter what that might be. Hydd believed Emperor Jahn to be ineffective, he was convinced that Jahn was making Columbyana weak, and so he was willing to lead a revolution which would oust the emperor in favor of a leadership which was not afraid of war. No, that was not quite right. He was working to put in place a leadership which would openly favor war and the spoils it would bring. If all went well, Hydd would lead the new army, at least for a while. Eventually he would be a hindrance, Kristo supposed, but for now he was necessary for leading the initial attack, if it was required, and for reorganizing the army once Jahn was dead.

Though he did not say so aloud, Hydd was hoping for an early attack. He wanted to see the new order begun. Since Morgana was already with child, that might be possible.

Rikka’s army was a sad collection of misfits, but they were deadly misfits who would do anything for the coin she’d promised. Some preferred the violence and the power of their mercenary profession, but most were in this game simply for riches. None of them questioned Kristo’s word that Lady Rikka was dead and that he and Hydd were now in charge of the operation. They were loyal to whoever paid them.

With his head down so his sometimes startling eyes were well hidden, Kristo walked toward Morgana’s door with a wooden tray held steady in both hands. Upon that tray sat a pot of tea and a plate of sweet cakes, as well as a pretty red-gemmed necklace Kristo had stolen from an intoxicated minister’s wife the night before. As he expected, one of two sentinels met him in front of the door they guarded.

“From the emperor,” Kristo whispered.

“I’ll take it in,” the stout sentinel said, reaching for the tray.

Kristo’s grip remained firm. “The emperor also asked that I deliver a message. Privately,” he added in a whispering voice. He could turn both these sentinels to stone and continue with his plan without this deception, but he did not want to show his hand so soon, nor did he wish to expend the sort of energy it would take to turn two men to stone. Transforming one man was tiring; transforming two was draining; more than that—a trial. Still, if it was necessary, he would do so.

The sentinels looked at one another briefly, then the fat one nodded his head. “All right,” the man said, as he knocked briefly and then opened the door. Kristo got a closer look at his daughter, who sat in a chair by the window. She wore the same ragged yellow dress he had seen her in so often of late, though there were finer gowns tossed about the room, on room dividers and wooden chests. The girl was stubborn, like her father.

She was drawing, passing the time as many fine ladies did, with pencils and paper. Did she draw flowers and birds, as a genteel girl might do? Or were her subjects more powerful and unusual? He wanted to see. Perhaps he would.

Morgana looked very much like her mother, but she had quite a bit of his strength. That was good. She would need that strength in the days to come. Kristo stepped into the room. His daughter was annoyed to be disturbed.

“From the emperor,” Kristo said, as the sentinel closed the door behind him.

“I want nothing from the emperor,” Morgana said, barely glancing his way as she made an angry swipe with her pencil. Not flowers, he would guess.

He’d always had difficulty reaching for and knowing what was in his daughter’s heart and mind. He could not sense her from a distance, not as he could so many others. He could not see clearly into her past or her future. Their blood ties meant she was too close for him to see clearly. Her strength also held him back. It was always easier to read the minds of the weak and spineless. Morgana was neither.

Even with her blood ties and strength, she could not hide her anger from him. Nor could she hide the life inside her, the son who would change everything. Standing so near to her at last, he also saw death. Death at her hand, death like that which he himself delivered on occasion.

Kristo placed the tray on a small table. “I have waited a very long time to meet you, Lady Morgana.” His use of her name drew her attention, and she finally looked at him. Kristo met her strong gaze with one of his own. “Do you recognize me?”

She shook her head and settled her paper in her lap. “No. I’m certain we have never met.”

“But we have. You were two years old when last I saw you.” Kristo stepped nearer his daughter, glancing down at her drawing. No, she did not draw anything so simple as flowers. An angel filled the page, wings spread and powerful, gaze stern and not at all heavenly. There was power in that angelic drawing. “Your eyes had just turned from baby blue to a green much like your mother’s, and your hair was even fairer than it is now. I swear, it was nearly white.”

“How do you . . .” she began, but Kristo was not ready to stop talking. Not yet.

“Your mother left me because I refused to give up my magic. She took you, and she walked away. I could’ve gone after you, I suppose, but I had better things to do with my time: I honed my skills, I tended the raw magic I had been given at birth, and I searched for more talents which could be learned. A family at that time in my life was just a distraction from what was truly important to me. It wasn’t as if your mother and I loved each other, after all. Our marriage had been arranged for us, and compliant children that we were, we simply did as we were told.” He smiled. “She regretted that decision many times, or so she told me in those months before she left. She said you would never have any man forced upon you, and yet now here we are and you are imprisoned by a man who dares to claim you. Your mother would not be pleased.”

Morgana had gone pale, so pale he was afraid she might faint. As she was still seated that would not be disastrous.

“You are my daughter, Morgana,” he said, as if she did not already understand. “We share a gift, you and I, and we also share a purpose.”

“I have no purpose,” she said, and Kristo could not help but note that her voice was very much like her mother’s, in accent and in tone.

“But you do, daughter,” Kristo said as he moved nearer the chair where his child, the next empress of Columbyana, the mother of the next emperor, a killer like him, sat. “Together you and I can claim a country and we can make the man who hurt you pay dearly for all that he has done.”

 

 

THEIR
walks in the garden had become a nightly event, but tonight a soft rain fell. Danya and Angelo stood at the doorway which led into the garden and watched the gentle raindrops wash over the plants and flowers.

Danya knew she would miss their walks when this part of her life was over. She would miss Angelo’s deep, calm voice, his steadiness, his friendship, and his undemanding kiss that had the power to rock her to her toes. While they’d walked she’d found herself opening up to him, sharing stories of her youth as she had in those days before she’d forced him from her life, laughing in ways she had not thought to laugh in years. She found herself holding his hand without ulterior motive and leaning into him when the nights began to turn cool.

In the past two days she had done her best to gently seduce Angelo, but he was not giving in as he should. He would kiss her and then put her gently aside, or else he would ignore her blatant offers of anything he might desire from her and say good night. She knew he wanted her, so why was he being so obstinate?

“We could go back to my chambers,” she said as the continuing rain made their evening ritual impossible. He would likely refuse her, but she had to try. Kristo would know if she did not even attempt to set their plan into motion. He was already annoyed that she had not yet managed to seduce Angelo and perhaps get herself with a fair-haired, magically gifted child, and he very much wanted this man who could sense certain kinds of energy dead before he saw too much of Uncle Kristo.

To her surprise, Angelo accepted her offer, and they climbed the stairs together.

Danya’s heart beat so hard she thought it might come through her chest, and the pounding didn’t subside when Angelo took her hand in his. Maybe her reasons for taking him as a lover were less than pure, but that did not mean she didn’t want him. Ennis was the only man she had ever known in an intimate way, and though he had aroused her, he had not always been kind. He had not loved her. The emperor barely knew her, and he did not like her at all—not that she’d given him reason to like her.

In any case, Angelo was her only chance to have sex with a man who truly cared for her. This was the closest she would ever come to love, she supposed. That was why her heart pounded.

She did not lead Angelo into the anteroom, which would have been proper for guests, but instead guided him into the main chamber where her bed waited. A maid or two had already been in to prepare the room for the night. Bowls of scented oil burned, giving off gentle light and filling the room with a sweet scent. A small fire burned in the fireplace, and the coverlet of her bed had been turned back, exposing soft pillows and exquisite sheets. A large bowl of warm water and a washcloth had been put out so she could wash her face before bed. A decanter of wine and a single glass had been placed by the bed, since lately she had not been able to sleep without taking a glass or two.

Danya didn’t waste times playing games or being coy, but turned and kissed Angelo in the way she had learned to kiss at his instruction. Softly, with emotion and gentleness and promise. She kissed him like a butterfly, rather than like a raven. She brushed her lips across his and waited for him to respond, instead of attacking him with anguished passion, as she had a few days earlier.

Angelo moaned gently against her mouth, returned the passion of her kiss, and then drew away. He did not wish to pull away from her; he did not wish to be apart. He wanted her.

Danya began to work loose the ribbons and hooks and eyes which held her low-cut fine gown together. The fabric was a startling purple that shimmered when she moved, and it showed her figure well. The garment had been meant to seduce an emperor, but it worked just as well for this man who—noble or not—often stole glances at her exposed cleavage. As she undressed, she kept her eyes on Angelo, who did not attempt to stop her, as she had thought he might. Instead, he watched with hunger in his eyes. He watched until she was standing before him in nothing more than an undershift made of a thin fabric which did nothing to hide her body.