Warrior (71 page)

kingdom. She was so lost in the

flowers, staring at their vivid colors

and thinking of how bleak her life

appeared, that she didn’t hear or see

anyone walk up to her. In fact, it

wasn’t until the person spoke that she

shifted, clutching her belly and

preparing to stand.

“You have no reason to fear me,

Majesty,” the elderly man said in a

soft, scratch voice. He sat beside her

before surveying her with wizened

eyes. “I am Anhur, one of the Morden

Seers.”

Jaisyn

continued

to

stare

suspiciously at him, and he laughed

softly. “I assure you, Majesty, that if I

meant any harm, I would have been

cut down before I reached you.”

She relaxed and took in the frail

man next to her. It seemed as if every

hair on his body was grey, and every

patch of skin wrinkled.

“I wish I could have met you earlier

but I was called to the mountains by

the Gods,” he told her apologetically,

giving her a friendly smile as if they

were old acquaintances.

Nodding, Jaisyn returned her stare

to the flowers, tugging her thick shawl

closer around her shoulders.

“You are troubled,” Anhur suddenly

said and when she turned to look at

him, he was staring out at the flowers.

“I am fine,” Jaisyn insisted, thinking

it time she should head back to the

castle. She had been out in the

gardens for hours.

“You are torn and confused, unsure

of where your life will lead from

here.”

Her mouth opened but he only

smiled before saying calmly, “I am a

Seer. Your people refer to them as

High Priestesses. I know how you

feel, why you feel it, and other things

that are beyond logical explanation.”

So, he could read her emotions.

Could he answer questions about the

past? She asked him.

Anhur turned back to the flowers.

“You are free to ask your questions,

but know the answers you receive

may not be to your liking.”

His answer puzzled her but she

continued on.

“If you know why I feel as I feel,

can you tell me why it is that I cannot

remember?”

He shrugged his thin shoulders

through the robes he wore. “You must

be specific, Jaisyn of Lytheria and

Morden,

if

you

wish

specific

answers.”

Clearing her throat and feeling an

embarrassed blush creep into her

cheeks, Jaisyn looked around to make

sure that no one else was in the

vicinity. “Why can I not remember

being with Bael?”

The Seer’s eyes closed briefly.

“You cannot remember because you

were not in your right mind when it

happened.”

Jaisyn sighed and felt tears sting at

her eyes. He was confirming her fears

about Bael. “Did I share a bed with

Bael?”

Anhur drew in a deep breath and

clicked his tongue lightly before

offering his quiet response. “There are

two answers to that question, Majesty.

I can give you both or you can ask

what is truly plaguing you.”

“What?” Jaisyn breathed, staring at

the little old man and wondering why

he wasn’t answering the question that

had plagued her mind for almost two

weeks. “I do not understand. Please

—”

“You must be more specific,”

Anhur repeated, this time turning to

stare at her long and hard.

“Have I lain with Bael intimately?”

A blush stained her cheeks at asking a

stranger so intimate a question, but

Jaisyn was desperate for answers.

Anhur stared at her for long

moments before he shook his head.

“No, you have not.”

Jaisyn was so relieved that she

forgot the rest of questions she had

lined up in her brain. Anhur stood,

offering her his wrinkled hand. She

placed her hand in his and allowed

him to pull her up. Something

transferred from his hand to hers and

he closed her fingers over it, smiling at

her all the while.

“It is a brewed concoction for a

mother’s health. Use one drop daily in

the tea you take. It will see that you

keep your strength for the birthing of

your son.” He paused and released

her hand, staring curiously at her face.

“You have her spirit, and you will

need it. If ever you wish to find me, I

can be found in the Sanctuary. Good

day, Majesty.”

He bowed and Jaisyn stared after

him in amazement as blue robes

billowed around him as he moved

slowly from the garden.

A son
.

Her baby—a boy. A child with

black, silken hair like his father, and

her golden eyes? Or golden curls like

his mother and grey eyes like his

father? She would give Vulcan a son,

an heir to carry on his legacy.

Her smile fell as she remembered

her husband’s current feelings to her.

He was on his way to Montak

because she’d given him reason to

distrust her. Only Lyria knew what

Vulcan would do to Bael once he

found him.

But Anhur said that she had not

slept with Bael. She clutched her

belly, and her eyes searched for

Anhur. If she had not slept with Bael,

then why had she awoken in his bed?

The questions she’d planned on

asking all returned and Jaisyn felt a

surge of fear pass through her belly.

She had believed Anhur because he’d

told her what she wanted to hear. The

big problem was that his answer and

her circumstances did not move well

together. If she had not been intimate

with Bael, why else would she have

awoken with his naked body draped

alongside hers? And what had he

meant by ‘her spirit’?

Anhur had disappeared. She began a

quick walk back to the courtyard,

hoping to locate him among the

numerous heads that she spotted. She

never once saw a grey head. She

heard the ringing of a bell and looked

to the skies. The sun was setting. It

was time for supper. As she headed

into the castle and up to her

chambers, she prayed that Varian

kept Vulcan rational when he dealt

with Bael. She could not live with de

Renald’s death on her hands.

***

The Northlands

Castle de Renald, Montak

“No, Bael! No! I don’t want to go.

You promised you wouldn’t send me

away again!”

The outraged shriek of the young

girl had servants stopping in their

tracks to look on as their little mistress

demanded of her brother what he was

unwilling to give. The top of her

mousy brown hair barely reached the

middle of the towering king’s chest

but she still faced him angrily. Tears

were gathering in her green eyes and

her small mouth trembled.

Bael sent them a withering glare,

demanding, “Do you not have enough

tasks to attend?”

They immediately scurried along

and Bael sighed, kneeling down

before his little sister. He had

promised her years ago, when she’d

been ten and Vulcan’s armies had

swarmed their lands, that he would

never send her away again if she left

that time. She’d bawled but had gone

willingly with his most trusted

warriors.

Avery was now thirteen and

although of a young age, accustomed

to having everything go according to

her wishes because he over-indulged

her. He’d been ten when his mother

had given birth to her, and although

he’d been excited to have a new

sister, he’d been saddened at his

mother’s passing. She grew up with a

drunkard of a father, numerous

governesses, and a brother who took

pleasure in making her laugh. She

loved him with the innocence of a

child, and if it was the last thing that

Bael did before he met the Gods, he

would see to it that she was taken

care of.

“One more time, elf?” he smiled,

hoping to quell the fear he saw, in

eyes that were very similar to his. One

of the translations for Avery’s name

was elf, and as soon as Bael had

found that out, he’d used it to address

her. She grumbled about it, but had

always been secretly pleased by the

name.

“For how long?” Her lips pursed in

a pout and she crossed her arms about

her chest.

“A week,” he lied immediately.

Avery’s eyes narrowed and she

sighed.

“One week,” she restated, before

nodding. “Where will I go?”

Bael pulled her to his body for a hug

and she wrapped her little arms about

him.

“Kadar. Vanna will go with you so

you won’t feel alone,” he assured her,

hoping the knowledge that her slightly

older companion was accompanying

her would take away some of her

reluctance to leave. His eyes looked

about the hall for the two warriors

who stood just inside the door. Kadar

was a few hours away from Montak,

and if Bael had to trust anyone with

his sister, he would trust the king who

ruled there. Kadar was one of the few

kingdoms in the North not under

Vulcan’s control. They had an

allegiance with the High King but did

not bow to him. That coupled with the

fact that Zarek Olgisson of Kadar was

a cousin and a fair man made Bael

willing to trust his most precious

possession into the king’s hands.

Bael stood, pulling Avery up with

him, until she squealed and demanded

to be let down. He walked her over to

the warriors at the entrance way and

placed her on her feet. She glared up

at him, but he only smiled, leaned

down to kiss the top of her head, and

rumpled her hair. That only earned

him a huff and another glare.

“Avery, Vanna is waiting for you in

the courtyard.”

With a sigh, she forced a smile and

stepped past the warriors to enter the

courtyard.

“Guard her with your lives,” Bael

said solemnly, staring the four men

directly in their eyes. They nodded

once and Bael removed the parchment

that he’d had in his tunic and handed

it the warrior closest to him. “Give this

to the king. He will understand.”

“
Liege.
” The warrior bowed and

nodded.

“Leave while it is still morning. That

way you will arrive in Kadar before

night falls.”

They bowed and turned and Bael

followed them out into the courtyard,

where Avery and Vanna were giggling

before the large carriage containing

expensive jewels and gold coins that

would see to it that his sister and her

companion lived comfortable lives in

Kadar. Her companion was two years

older, and had been orphaned when

her mother, his former castle-keeper,

died of the cough. Because Avery had

been so close to Vanna, Bael made

her Avery’s companion. A room had

been cleared for her, and usually

whatever he gave to his sister, he gave

to Vanna as well.

He was sending fifty of his best

warriors to escort Avery and Vanna to

Kadar, and most of them were

already mounted. Bael looked on as

the remaining four mounted and the

governess inside the carriage stuck her

head out and called to the girls.

Vanna, more docile than Avery,

immediately went into the carriage but

Avery turned and looked to the

entranceway, where he stood.

For a moment, Bael feared she

would run to him and refuse to go, but

she waved her hand and yelled, “One

week” before turning and hopping up

into the carriage. The carriage rolled

over the drawbridge, surrounded

heavily by armed, alert and dangerous

warriors.

Bael sighed in relief as he felt that

weight lift from his shoulders. Avery