Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1) (20 page)

The King merely smiled with a diabolic satisfaction, setting Gynevra's teeth on edge. It seemed that Ahron of Poseidonia enjoyed flexing his power over his people.

Moving deliberately beyond the grasping fingers, she sketched a cursory star of respect to Ianthe. Then closing her inner windows, as Zenor had taught her to do, and clasping her hands together over her solar plexus, she fixed each of her parents in turn with a steady gaze.

She'd been raised with the expectation of serving in the Temple and only on gaining womanhood had she known she wanted more. Even so she'd probably have agreed to serve if Ianthe had shown the slightest hint of maternal care or concern, or even tried to understand what had happened during the Sacred Joining at the Spring Fertility Rite. It had occurred to her over the last tonn of enforced seclusion that Ianthe had never shown her the loyalty of a mother and thereby hadn't earned the obedience of a daughter. On that morning when she'd stood before the wrath of the Archinus, a stone of rebellious, self-determination had been seeded deep within her in that place where love, duty, and commitment to her people should have been deeply grounded. She knew what was expected of her but—
meilad evintrod osudon
if she'd make such a sacrifice when it patently wasn't appreciated.

Chapter 11

He'd not yet invited her to speak but Gynevra decided the invitation was inherent in his granting of the audience. She'd not offer herself into his power by acting the supplicant.

‘My Lord King of all Atlantis, my Lady Archinus, co-creators of my physical being, I thank you for granting this audience to discuss my choice of Life Path. I've meditated over many moons and constantly over this last tonn in solitary confinement and can find no desire within myself to commit my life to the Temple. Therefore, Sire, I request you to contract a Life Union for me with a suitable Son of the Dragon.’

She felt Ianthe trying to laser through her defenses but Zenor had taught her well. Feeling rejected and betrayed by the Archinus only hardened her resolve. Where once the daughter might have responded from her inner need for a movuon, now she harbored only resistance. Ignoring the Archinus, Gynevra fixed her attention on the King—who was gazing at her as if perceiving other than her physical body.

Eyes clouded with visions, her sire was estimating her value to him. She'd always known she meant no more to him than any other Child of the Dragon but it had never occurred to her his lack of feeling would go so far as to consider her a mere instrument of profit.

The seed of rebellious self-determination already sprouted, strengthened. She'd find and cultivate that cold and mercenary part of him that was embedded in her own psyche and ensure what she was called upon to render was worth the prize. He'd also been trying to penetrate her thoughts. She knew by the tightening of the deep lines across his forehead.

‘For what was a Princess of the Realm put in solitary confinement?’ he demanded as if she'd mentioned nothing else.

The resentful fire of injustice blazed in her belly but as quickly as it flared, Gynevra extinguished it and returned her sire's inquiring stare with a flat, hard one of her own.

‘I stole my sister's Goddess essence by going out-of-body with King Cadal Isidor during the first Joining of the Gods in the Spring Fertility Rite.’

The King raised one dark brow. A hint of censure smoldered in his gaze but Gynevra maintained the high tilt of her chin and the steady modulation of her voice. She'd not admit to guilt or shame, however darkly it burned within her.

‘I was in solitary confinement for one tonn and during that time learned absolute control over my mind.’

A small, hard smile curled the perfectly sculpted mouth common to many Sons of the Blood, then the King grudgingly conceded, ‘You learned well, it would seem.’

He considered her lingeringly, and when she continued to stare uncompromisingly back, he said, ‘I hear impressive reports of your healing powers, Princess. I'm told but for your skills, the Prince of Trephysia would be lost to us.’

She knew he was trying to get her off balance so he could penetrate her defenses, but she'd created an invisible shield of energy from which his probes bounced like arrows off stone walls. The longer she held the energy the stronger it became.

Showing herself unfazed by his ignoring of her request she inclined her head and said, ‘Healing comes from the Goddess, Sire. It's universal energy. I'm merely the channel through which it flows. Nor was it his time to go. If the Gods had decreed otherwise, nothing I did would've made any difference. Thanks are due only to the Universe, to the Gods.’

‘It's being taken care of. However, we also thank you, Princess. You will accept a Gold Dragon as recognition and appreciation from your King and the realm.’

Dipping his hand into a gilded box proffered by a courtier, he withdrew an exquisite golden dragon that breathed ruby fire and hung from a circlet of beaten gold.

Unprepared for the honor he was bestowing upon her, tears she'd refused to shed in anger or bitterness came perilously close to the surface. Almost, Ianthe was able to pierce her mind. Slamming her inner gates against the intrusion she was rewarded by a whitening around her mother's lips and a smoldering light in her fine dark eyes. She'd be wanting to remind her daughter of the prophecy and her daughter didn't care if she never heard of the breara prophecy again. Bending her knee, Gynevra leant forward to allow the King to fix the precious accolade round her neck.

He was about to speak as she arose when his eyes fixed on the tiny obsidian bull, which slipped from the neck of her gown.

With a smile that made Gynevra shudder to her toes, he asked, ‘Why do you hide that which should be worn with pride?’

Pushing the bull back out of sight, Gynevra glanced at Ianthe's expressionless face, drew in a breath as if to answer, then stilled. After all what was she to say?

‘Do you not realize you've joined with the greatest warrior Atlantis has ever known?’

‘I do, Sire.’

The King clearly expected her to say more but knowing the less she said on the subject the better, she remained silent.

‘Do you not understand the honor of that?’ he demanded.

‘I don't believe honor actually came into it, Sire.’

A small part of her wanted to laugh at the thought of honor in connection with that joining in the grotto, but the far greater part of her suddenly wanted to weep oceans for a sister lost, a lover scarcely known. Neither emotion could she indulge, but must close her heart lest it compromise her mind.

Her father's virescent gaze smoldered over her silently for some time, then a slow smile blazed across the regal features that reminded Gynevra suddenly of Gotham whose smile had ensnared every priestess who'd come within his orbit in the Healing Temple. It had that same luminous, entrancing quality designed to entirely disarm its recipient. She was neither disarmed nor enticed to drop her defenses.

‘There was honor in it for him at least,’ the King persisted in a knowing drawl. ‘Such elaborate black obsidian light-tokens are rare—and there are many who wear the black obsidian light-token. You and he would seed magnificent Dragon cubs. Do you wish to unite with King Cadal Isidor?’

Gynevra couldn't allow herself even a fleeting vision of how life might be with the mighty warrior of Nyalda. Her feelings where he was concerned were far too volatile.

‘No, Sire, nor he with me. Though he has pledged me his siring services should I require them.’

The regal eyelids drooped a little, hiding the knowing eyes.

‘Are you seeded by him now?’

‘No, Sire. I’m a priestess. I may not—’

‘A pity,’ he interrupted, waving her to silence.

Over the hum of comment that broke out Ianthe leaned forward, and in a cold, imperious voice said, ‘I would speak.’

King Ahron turned and stared at her for a moment, one eyebrow slightly raised.

‘I'm sure your comments are of no consequence, Lady, since the Princess has indicated her desires which are obviously contrary to your own.’

Gynevra had never seen Ianthe treated as anything less than a supreme being and forgot herself enough to imagine sharing the sight with Phree and Mery, then cursed at the inner pain. What was she doing here when she wanted nothing so much as to bury her head in her clagren and cry?

What she was doing, a calm inner voice reminded her, was claiming her future and the only way to achieve that was to eschew the past, which now could not be changed. Her future depended on how she acquitted herself in the present. Firmly closing her inner doors yet again, she looked directly at the Archinus. Two spots of color rode high on her cheeks and a spark of fury lurked in the depths of her eyes but she appeared completely calm and unaffected by the King's repressive comment.

‘She must continue studying at Qrazil to eventually take my place as Archinus,’ she stated coldly.

‘You can't be asking me to believe you train only one initiate to Archinus capability?’ the King scorned.

‘No, Sire. But we have to remember the respected Lady Electra's prophecy—‘
Should the line of the Archini of Poseidonia descended of her bloodline be broken, then would Atlantis cease to exist
’.

‘Electra was on her deathbed, her mind sick and wandering,’ Ahron noted scathingly. ‘I'll have no commerce with the dead making rules for the living. There’s another female child of your line, is there not?’

Ianthe nodded, nostrils flaring slightly but showing no other sign of reaction to the King's rebuke.

‘Alienor, sired by Prince Gotham. She’s nine years old.’

‘Does she show any aptitude?’

‘Perhaps. But Gynevra has the gift of sight, as did Lady Electra and already she’s held in high esteem by the priesthood generally for her healing powers which are nothing short of phenomenal in one so young.’

Words of praise were rare from the Lady Ianthe's lips, such fulsome ones unheard of. Gynevra dropped her eyes, and her heart, to the floor. The Archinus would play every string to her lyre as it were, to achieve the music of her desire.

Fight or submit were her only choices and whoever heard of a Child of the Dragon submitting?

Caressing the golden dragon at her throat and the obsidian bull below it, Gynevra raised her chin and looked her sire straight in the eye. The energy of gold carried balance and positivity; useful enough in this situation but the vibration of obsidian encouraged clear-thinking and plain-speaking. Obsidian also offered protection against negative energies. Her resolve wasn't wavering, but Gynevra knew she’d stand little chance of achieving her objective should she be faced with the combined opposition of the King and the Archinus. He must therefore know her decision hadn't been lightly reached, nor would she be moved to change it.

‘What is your plan for your Life Path, Princess?’ he asked, his voice spuriously gentle in an attempt, Gynevra understood, to breach the formidable facade of the Archinus.

Recognizing the importance of the moment, Gynevra allowed her vision to turn inward, the dreams to unfold as they had so many times during her Life Path meditations.

‘As a Daughter of the Dragon, I'm well endowed with the desire to mate,’ she stated, knowing this wasn't a time to wrap facts in pretty euphemisms. ‘I know I need more than the infrequent sterile altar couplings available to the Archinus. I wish to join my life with a Son of the Dragon, to experience life outside the Temple. At the same time I believe I could continue to be a healer and undertake the Initiations into the Deeper Mysteries which would enable me to hold the position of Archinus should it ever become necessary.’

‘Is that possible?’ the King asked, turning to Ianthe.

‘It's not been done since Electra‘s time. An initiate commits her whole life to the study of the Mysteries. Training and practice is on-going over many years, which has been my own path. As each Mystery is mastered there’s another waiting. You know yourself, Sire, one must constantly practice with the powers learnt, or they’ll be lost again, just as an athlete must continually train to remain fit.’

Ianthe's voice was hard and unrelenting.

‘But we don't know it can't be done,’ Ahron persisted cunningly. ‘A daughter of the Paramount King and the Archinus of Qrazil, who's also a grand-daughter of the inimitable King Isidor and great-grand-daughter of the legendary Electra, who at a mere seventeen has achieved the status of hexad, must have greater potential than any other. Think you not, Lady?’

‘I don't feel comfortable leaving the fate of our people to such a chance,’ the Archinus almost snapped.

‘So, you believe Electra's words to be more of a curse than a prophecy,’ the King stated sharply.

‘No!’ Ianthe's denial was quick. Too quick? ‘The Lady Electra wouldn't have done such a thing.’

‘But you're asking me to overturn the Law which gives every Atlantean the free choice of Life Path, to use my authority to force Princess Gynevra to accept a Life Path of your choosing? The Law is as old as our beginnings, Lady. You wish me to overset it?’

Eyes locked together, King and Archinus communicated silently as if there were no one else present. Gynevra longed to know what passed between them but knew better than to try to intercept the thoughts. Her hexad brain would probably fry from the excess of energy. It was plain however, from the way the King's lip curled and his eyes smoldered that he wasn't happy with Ianthe’s response, however privately delivered.

Just when it seemed they'd spend the rest of the afternoon locked in ocular combat, the King spoke, his voice as soft as the breeze riffling the wall drapes and as cold and hard as the stone of the walls.

‘Only the Princess has the choosing of her Life Path. She has stated her desires. So be it. However, Princess Gynevra, since you have the potential to become a great Adept we request that you agree to share alternate quarters of the year between the Temple and your sacred partner. This would be a condition of your contract.’

The silence following the King's ruling was taut and brittle. Gynevra immediately sank gracefully to her knees, bowed her head and said, ‘I so agree. Thank you, Sire.’

‘The most suitable Sacred Partner for you, after King Cadal Isidor, is Prince Gotham of Trephysia. I believe he'll go no more into battle on account of his wounding. Therefore the logical next step for him would be to take a Sacred Partner, return to Fyr Trephyr and prepare for the time when he will rule. Would you have us approach him in this matter?’

Gynevra swallowed against the leap of her heart. It was becoming more and more difficult to maintain a state of emotionless control. She'd not dared to think gaining her objective would be so easy. Or so cruel.