Untouchable (22 page)

“I should call you Alix,” she said softly as they rode slowly—much more slowly than was necessary—down the path.

The body she leaned against jerked in surprise. “Why?”

“All those at the palace know you as Prince Alixandyr, do they not?”

“They do,” he said grudgingly.

“If you show up with a woman who calls you by another name, questions might arise.”

He shifted his body slightly, as if he had suddenly grown uncomfortable. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’ve gotten so accustomed to calling you Trystan, I’ll need to practice calling you Alix again until it feels right and natural.”

“It does not matter what you call me,” he said gruffly.

“In that case, I will start practicing now, Alix.”

Again he was startled. She held on to him, burying her cheek against his warm chest. “I will call you Alix until you stop reacting so oddly. Those at the palace will wonder if you jump every time I say your name, Alix.”

Her fingers raked against his side. She had not thought she would ever feel affection of any kind for the one who called himself Trystan, but now that she knew they were and always would be one, she loved that sad side of him, as well as the more noble Alix. If anything, Trystan needed her more.

No, Trystan needed
Alix
more, and she could be the one to draw Alix to the forefront once again.

“It’ll be dark soon, Alix,” she said. “Perhaps we should stop for the night.

“We can be in Arthes in a matter of hours,” he argued.

“I doubt if the palace will move if we stop for food and sleep and other pleasant activities.” She wanted to call him Alix as he made love to her. She wanted to say, “I love you, Alix,” while he was inside her.

“You’re right, of course,” he said. “One more night will make no difference to my plans.”

Sanura smiled and held on to Trystan—no,
Alix
—tighter than before. She wanted one more night to call to the light the man she loved, and she was going to have it.

TARI
carried the tin cup of water to Vyrn’s trembling, pale lips. The sun had just set, but they had stopped to set up camp hours ago.

Vyrn could barely put one foot in front of the other. His hands shook all the time, and after a few days of fighting his viciously rebellious bodily functions, he had nothing left to expel.

It was time.

Tari made him comfortable on his blanket, after being sure he swallowed a generous drink of the tainted water she’d been giving him for days. Even before she had revealed herself to him, she’d slipped the herbs into his waterskin. It had been very bold of her to sneak into camp and sully his water, but she had not cared what might happen to her if she got caught.

She had not cared then, and did not care now, because her life was over. It had been over since the moment she’d heard the soldiers and sentinels talking about her around the campfire, laughing at her appearance, openly abhorring the very thought of touching her. She did not care what the others thought, but Vyrn should’ve been better. He should think better of her. After all that she had done for him, he owed her that!

He looked as if he were drifting toward sleep, so she grabbed a hank of his hair and jerked his head very slightly off the ground. His eyes opened, but he was unable to focus on her. Dammit, she wanted him looking at
her
! She wanted him to know the truth.

“You have been so miserable these past few days,” she said with sympathy.

He nodded.

“Do you know why you have been so miserable?”

“I’m sick,” he said weakly.

“Yes, you are. You’re sick because I fed you herbs and grasses which tear up your insides and sap your strength.”

It took a moment for the truth to get through his muddled brain. “You . . . poisoned me?”

“Not precisely, no. What I gave you won’t kill you, Vyrn.”

He seemed relieved, but not for long. She held his own dagger to his throat. “What I gave you was meant to weaken you so I can cut your throat the way I cut Princess Edlyn’s throat. For
you
!” she said sharply. “I killed a woman whose only crime was to be disagreeable, and I did it for you.”

He tried to lift his hands, but could not. The last dose she’d given him had been doubly strong. “We’re going to get married and be rich and happy,” he argued, his words sloppy. “Why would you want to kill me?”

She grabbed one of his wrists with her free hand and carried it roughly to her stomach. “What do you feel here, Vyrn? A woman’s body or a sack of bones? Do you want to poke me one more time? If you do, I’m sure I can find a bag to put over my head so you won’t have to look at me.”

It took a moment for Vyrn to recognize his own words, and when he did, he went even paler, which was a feat. She’d seen fresh winter snow less white than his face. “When I said that, I was only covering for us,” he explained. “I couldn’t let the others know that you and I were in this together. I couldn’t tell them that I...loved you.”

“Even now, when your life is in my hands, you choke on the words.” She leaned down, placing her face close to his. “Say it again, and this time make me believe you.”

“I love you, Tari. All this, everything I’ve done, has been for you. For us.”

She wanted to believe him, she truly did. “I think I’m going to have your baby.” Only in the past few days had she begun to suspect that she might be with child. If she had not overheard that awful conversation, she’d be deliriously happy.

“A baby.” He managed to lift one trembling hand and touch her arm. “Isn’t that nice? You don’t want to murder your baby’s pappy, do you?”

Tari was set to cut Vyrn’s throat, but she hesitated. He did sound happy. Was it true that everything he’d said in camp had been intended to throw the others off their scent? Had he lied to the others that night? She did not fool herself to think that she was beautiful, that men lusted after her, but Vyrn had made her believe that he saw beyond the physical. Did he? Was it possible?

Vyrn moved more quickly than should be possible, grabbing her wrist, turning it sharply, and thrusting the knife into her side. His false face was shed, and he called her vile names as he twisted the blade. His strength was waning and all he could manage was that one thrust and a twist, but it was enough. Tari looked down at her side and the bloom of blood there, and knew he had killed her and their baby.

He fell back, exhausted by the effort of killing her. Sweat beaded on his face, and his eyes were more closed than open. She had to act fast while she still could. Life was slipping away; she felt it leaving her.

Without hesitation, Tari quickly swiped the blade across Vyrn’s throat. She’d done the heinous deed before; she knew what to expect. She did not wear an apron this time, so the blood that spurted from the severed throat sprayed across her dress, mixing with her own and even marking her face with vile droplets. She didn’t care.

“Why did you make me do this?” she asked as Vyrn’s body jerked and then went still. “Why couldn’t you love me?” Tears ran down her face, mixing with the blood there.

Killing him had taken the last of her strength, so Tari placed her head on Vyrn’s stomach, resting there very comfortably even though they were both drenched in blood. “You made me do this terrible thing,” she said. “It’s your fault, all your fault.” Her words had begun to slur, but she continued to speak to the dead man beneath her. “You should not have talked about me so horribly. You should not have lied to me.”

When Vyrn had seduced her into killing the princess, he’d promised that they would be together forever. Tari was pretty sure this wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but in the end he was entirely hers.

VERITY
was very happy to make use of one of Carina’s old nightgowns for the night. Who would’ve thought a plain, used nightdress that didn’t fit all that well could be considered a luxury? A nightdress, a bath, hot food, a roof over her head when the rain came—it was all heavenly.

She lay in the center of the large bed she had been directed to, and waited anxiously for Laris to join her. Now and then she fiddled with the amber stone of the lucky talisman, which she refused to remove even for sleeping. She did not have any proof that the love potion—which had been left behind with her things when poor Buttercup had run amok—was effective, but she did believe that this talisman had assisted her. She was not dead, and she’d found Laris. All in all, she considered herself very lucky.

Though the farmhouse was far from large, there were a number of small private rooms, as well as a loft above the main room. Privacy was a good thing. After so many days of seeing no one but Laris, she missed their private moments; she hated sharing him, even with his own loving family. Soon he would be here, and she would not have to share him any longer, at least not for tonight.

Verity was no fool. She knew what Laris had been asking when he’d informed her that she would have to share a bed. For weeks the possibility of what might happen had danced between them, but now that they had a proper bed and she knew his love wasn’t the result of trickery, everything had changed. Tonight Laris would do more than hold her in his arms, he would do more than protect her. Tonight he would make her his in every way. She was scared and excited at the same time, but still—what was about to happen was right and good, she knew it.

Once she was no longer a virgin, marrying the emperor would be out of the question. She didn’t care. Destinies could be changed. She did have
some
control over her own life and destiny! There had been a time when she’d wanted to be empress more than anything else, when she was certain she’d been born to be empress! Now all she wanted was one handsome, sweet sentinel to come to this bed and show her what a man and woman in love might be.

The door to the small bedroom opened, and a figure slipped inside. Maybe she should’ve left a candle burning, but there was a hint of moonlight shining through the uncovered window, and that should be enough. Verity closed her eyes and gripped the stone she’d been caressing. She held her breath and waited for Laris to join her on the bed. The mattress dipped as weight fell upon it, and a very soft, very female voice, said, “Good night. I hope you don’t snore.”

Verity sat up abruptly and looked down at Carina’s unmistakable head of hair, as Laris’s sister turned her back and settled down with a sigh. Before she could think of a word to say, the door opened again and the youngest sister, Fharis—easily identifiable thanks to her slim frame— walked in. She dropped to the other side of the bed and hunkered down quite comfortably.

“Are you going to marry Laris, do you think?” the girl whispered without preamble.

Before Verity could answer, Carina said sharply, “Hush, Fharis. That is not a proper question to ask. Go to sleep.”

“I only wondered,” the youngest sister whispered. “I always thought Laris would come home and marry Ellanie one day. So did Mama, so don’t say it’s not true.”

“Go to
sleep
,” Carina said again. “Tomorrow morning will be here before we know it.”

Verity lay back and tried to relax. The bed was large enough for two to be comfortable, but three? And who was Ellanie? The door opened again, and this time Verity was not surprised when the third sister, Robyn, slipped into the room. She shoved Carina to the middle of the mattress, where Verity was already lying quite miserably, muttered a tired good night, and laid her head upon a small pillow.

Verity snuggled into the mattress, disappointed and more than a little hurt. Was this what Laris had meant when he’d said she’d have to share a bed? Of course it was. Once again she’d misunderstood his intentions.

He loved her, she knew that. Did he not want her as a man wants a woman? Did he not believe that she wanted him? He probably thought she still wanted to be empress. A virgin empress, at that. She could not blame him, as she had never told him otherwise.

Somehow, she had thought she would not have to tell Laris how she felt. He should know, shouldn’t he? He should look into her eyes and see what she wanted from him. Didn’t love bring with it unspoken communication?

Apparently not.

Not that her actual communication had been without its problems of late. She had never told Laris that she did not wish to be empress. On many occasions she had told him that she would marry into that position. How was he to know otherwise? And still, she was annoyed that he did not.

Carina elbowed her, and Fharis kicked her ankle. The assault continued for a while before Verity became accustomedto the other bodies in the bed, and the girls all settled down to sleep—quiet and still.

It was quite some time before Verity found the same stillness and much-needed sleep.

“I
suppose we will reach Arthes tomorrow,” Sanura said as she laid her head on Alix’s bare chest.

“Long before dark,” he said. For a man who had once been so anxious to get to the palace, he did not sound happy about the prospect.

She placed her hand low on his belly, pressing it there, raking her fingers against his warm flesh. They were naked and entangled beneath a canopy of leaves. It was the only bed she’d known of late, the only bed she wanted. For now, lost in the forest, Alix was entirely hers.

“I will take good care of you,” he said gruffly. “No matter what happens in the days to come, I will care for you above all others.”

A part of him, the part which had craved control for so long, still wanted the throne and the power that came with it, but another part of him, the man she loved, wanted more. He wanted love and peace; he wanted the connection they shared. Would it be the same when they were lying in a large, soft bed as it was now when their bed was the hard ground and their roof was the night sky? Would he still love her?

Would he choose power over her?

“And I will care for you, Alix,” she said softly. “When you are well; when you are ill; when you are happy; when you are sad; whether you are emperor or not...”

“I will be emperor,” he said.

Arguing with him when he was in this state would do more harm than good, she knew, so she did not. Instead, she brushed her thumb across a muscle. He had so many fine muscles, and she was learning them all.

This afternoon she had noticed that his eyes had begun to change. Not the instant and remarkable change from light to dark that she had seen before, but a subtle blending. Streaks of light green now existed among the dark, as both parts of the man she loved merged. At the moment there was still more darkness, but every time she called him Alix, every time he questioned his intentions toward his brother, every time he realized that he loved her—the darkness became less pronounced.

Soon, if she was right, his eyes would be the light green she had first seen, light and beautiful green, perhaps marked with thin streaks that spoke of the darkness he could, and would, learn to control.

They slept awhile, and then they woke to make love without words. They simply came together as if being one were the most natural state for either of them. She called her lover Alix. She told him she loved him, many times. She found and gave pleasure in a way she had never known was possible, even though to give pleasure was her purpose.

No, to love was her purpose. She simply had not realized that until she’d come here and discovered Alix, this fractured man who needed her and her love more than she’d imagined was possible.

When they were joined, she could see deeply into his soul. Where there had once been light and dark in a constant battle, there was now a merging, a union—a truce of sorts. If she had more time before they reached Arthes, if she could have Alix to herself for just a few more days, she could be assured that the dark side would not win—she could be certain he would not kill his own brother.

But he could not be stalled any longer. If the one who had called himself Trystan was in control, he would kill his brother and take the throne, and Sanura would find herself the emperor’s favorite concubine. If it was her Alix who won, then the emperor would live and Sanura might very well find herself a prince’s wife.

Whatever the outcome, she was his. For better or for worse, bride or whore, in war or in blessed peace, she would be his.

It was for Alix’s own sake that she wished the best of him would win. No man should have to live with the blood of his own family on his hands, no man should allow ambition to be more important than love. And she knew that if he did kill his brother, the best of him, the Alix she had first loved, would never recover.

Sanura would spend her life comforting him, if need be, but she would much prefer their life to be a celebration. She wanted to give this man who had known little true happiness the best of this life.

As the sun rose, she shattered and cried out as release cracked through her body. She called his name:
Alix
. She clutched his body to hers and felt the love he would not speak for fear of giving too much of himself to her. He climaxed and gave of himself, filling her with the seed which would not make a child, not ever, not for her.

“You will never again sleep on the ground,” Alix whispered. “You will have the finest clothes, the most dedicated servants, the most brilliant jewels in existence. All will be yours.”

“I want only you, Alix,” she said honestly. In the new light of day she added, “Though a bath and warm food and a mug of cider would be very nice.”

“You will have whatever you wish,” he said, and in his own way that was
I love you.

“If you really mean that,” she said cautiously, “then reconsider your most immediate plans.”

His body stiffened. “No. I must follow through. I must take what is mine.”

She took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. His beard was rough with neglect, his mouth was a firm and determined slash, and his eyes were, perhaps, a bit brighter than they had been last night. It was hard to tell in this light. “I am yours,” she said confidently. “Nothing else matters.”

“How can you be so blithely accepting? I bound you, threatened you, mistreated you, and placed you in the path of galloping horses. I degraded you with my words and with my actions, all to get what I wanted and needed. I would do so again, if necessary.”

His words were harsh, but he had obviously forgotten that she could see inside him, that she knew his true intentions, his true self. “No, you would not,” she whispered.

He did not argue with her, but neither did he agree.

PAKI
and Kontar presented themselves at the Arthes palace and demanded to see the emperor immediately. They were not pleased by the response they received. First they were told it was impossible to have an audience with the emperor himself. They were dismissed by a lackey who was anxious to usher them out of the palace and send them on their way.

In fact, they received no respect at all until Paki told the attendant that the emperor’s brother had murdered Princess Edlyn and stolen a gift which was not meant to be his.

The lackey paled and then disappeared, ordering Paki and Kontar to remain where they stood until he could fetch someone who could handle the particular situation. Eventually a nicely dressed older man who introduced himself as Minister of Foreign Affairs Calvyno greeted them with an unfriendly and tight smile, asking about the impossible rumors they were trying to spread.

Paki had studied the language of this land more than Kontar, thanks to a pleasant and pretty kitchen maid from Tryfyn, so he did the talking. “We do not speak nonsense. Prince Alixandyr murdered Princess Edlyn and touched that which was not his to touch. We are here to take the life he forfeited.”

“You’re here to execute the prince for killing the princess from Tryfyn,” Calvyno stated.

“No,” Paki said plainly. “We are here to take his life for daring to touch a woman of the Agnese, a gift from the King of Tryfyn to your emperor and a treasure which was not and is not his.”

Calvyno licked his thin lips and wrung his hands. “I cannot believe that Prince Alixandyr would commit any of the crimes of which he is accused. He is a fine, upstanding man, a noble and selfless...”

“We saw him with our own eyes,” Paki said.

“You saw him kill the princess?” Thick eyebrows came together.

“No!” Kontar said, losing his patience. He drew his sword and threw it with a vengeance. It flew end over end past the minister’s head and then pierced the wall solidly. “We saw him touch Sanura.”

“Sanura, this gift of which you speak,” the minister said as he glanced behind him to the quivering blade.

“Yes,” Paki said, remaining calmer than Kontar. “I imagine there are those from Tryfyn who wish to make the prince pay for murder, but that is not our concern.” He hoped that they were first to face the prince. Given the lack of good fortune the soldiers had in their search for the runaway pair, it was very possible the prince would arrive here without ever having faced a Tryfynian blade.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs, a man who obviously had a difficult job, was silent for a few moments. Minister Calvyno studied his visitors, taking in their costumes, which were as strange to him as the long red robes were to Paki, and glancing more than once at the sword which was stuck in the palace wall.

When the prince was dead and Sanura had been either recovered or avenged, he and Kontar would find their way back to Claennis, Paki decided. He missed the sea, and the laughing women, and the air of home.

But he could not return home until this job was done.