A Magic King (9 page)

Criminy, she cursed silently as she tried to adjust to a less bruised position. Hadn't these people ever heard of pillows? Cushions? A rock would feel better than this bench. Perhaps if she'd been less interested in finding a distraction from her rear end, she would have been smart enough to avoid the topic. But she was looking for a diversion, and this was close enough.

"I mean," she continued. "You're King of Chigan, right? So why don't you have a carriage to take you to court? Or at least a horse. A king shouldn't have to walk, should he?"

"My lands are very rich and fertile. I am a wealthy man," he said stiffly.

She blinked at his huffy tone. "Well of course you are. I never meant to imply—"

"I owned a horse and a carriage. But my stallion was killed during the last Tarveen raid."

"The last what?"

"It is planting season. It seemed ridiculous to take two much needed horses from the plowing just to plod their way to Bosuny."

"I didn't mean to imply—"

"I am a fast walker and quite adept at catching rides."

"I'm sure you are—"

"And as you could see from the inn, I am a quite wealthy man."

"Geez, Daken. Relax. I was just curious."

"Now you know."

"Yeah. Now I know that you're real touchy about the silliest things."

"You think my wealth is silly?" If he sat any straighter in his seat, his back would break.

"Heck, no. Look, Daken, I think it's great you'd walk however many miles to Bosuny rather than take away some horses. I think it's noble of you. Many kings wouldn't do that."

His shoulders relaxed just a bit. "You think so?"

"Of course. You're obviously a king who cares about the well-being of your people over your own comfort. I think that's admirable."

He lifted an eyebrow and allowed his head to turn a little in her direction. 'Truly?"

"Truly." Good God, no matter what the planet, men's egos were the same.

"I was not always so concerned," he said, his face shifting into a rueful quirk of his lips. "In fact, I was incredibly reckless. But as second son, I was never supposed to inherit the kingship. When I did..." He shrugged. "Being king makes one reevaluate one's own comfort."

His little speech could have sounded pompous, but Jane found it endearing. It must have been difficult for him, first dealing with his parents' death, then his brother's. Add to that the sudden burden of a kingship, and it was no wonder he wanted some time to walk peacefully to Bosuny. Too bad she'd forcibly imposed herself on his solitude. And no wonder he wished her anywhere but with him.

"It must have been very hard on you," she said softly, an apology in her voice.

He didn't appear to notice. Instead, his thoughts seemed turned inward as he stumbled over his words. "These last two years have been... sad and difficult."

She reached out and squeezed his right hand. It was meant to be a quick gesture, one of comfort and friendship, but he wouldn't let it end. Shifting the reins to his left hand, he captured her fingers, drawing them up to his lips. He kissed her knuckles with a courtliness that made her cheeks heat.

She searched for something to say, but his gaze captured hers. His eyes, a brilliant royal blue and gold, sparkled with a happiness she'd never seen before. They seemed full of a promise that left her breathless with excitement. Then they hit another rut, and Jane's hand flew out of his to keep herself from bouncing out of the seat. Daken too, had to steady himself. With a muttered curse, he redirected his attention to the horses.

"That one hurt," she grumbled as she tried to ease forward off her more tender parts. "How much further is it?"

"Another day."

Jane groaned and wondered how she could possibly want such torture to continue indefinitely. But she did.

* * *

"So are you at war or something?" They were sitting alone beside a fire after dinner, the fur trader gone to check his wares. Jane was once again intent on learning as much as possible about this world. "I haven't seen any soldiers," she continued, "but everyone seems to carry weapons." She glanced uneasily at the bastard sword strapped to Daken's back. Even the fur trader wore a long sword and dagger. "I almost feel naked without a knife." She was teasing when she said it, but he gave her a long, considering look that took in her body from top to bottom.

"You are not naked."

No, she wasn't, but the way he looked at her made her feel like she was.

"And we are not at war," he said. "Aggression is forbidden by the Elven Lord. We carry weapons to defend ourselves against... beasts." She saw his jaw muscles clench over the last word, and that told her he was holding something back.

"Beasts?" she pressed. "Like the panther?" Their silent shadow had not shown herself since the village, but she sensed the cat's presence almost as surely as she sensed Daken's current emotional withdrawal.

"This is the heart of the Elven Lord's lands. It is relatively safe with few beasts. If you look closer, many of the weapons are for show or to eat with."

Jane nodded, remembering that yes, most people carried small daggers used more to cut their dinner bread than to defend themselves.

"The trader and I both live in lands on the edge of the Elven Lord's influence. The animals there are much less tame."

He covered well, his tone almost conversational. But Jane hadn't spent the last few days studying him without recognizing when Daken was being evasive.

"Is that how your family was killed?" she pressed. "Beasts?"

Daken sat very still, his gaze lost in the depths of the campfire. "The Tarveen attacked and killed my family."

"The Tarveen?"

"A race of monsters in the eastern region of my lands." He spit out the words like bad caterpillars.

"I take it they aren't pacifists?"

He glanced up, repeating himself as if he were impressing the basics on a witless child. "They are monsters who do not bow to anyone, much less the Elven Lord. They are animals that know only how to kill and eat."

Jane shivered at the implacable hatred in his voice. "So they raid your lands, and you're forbidden to fight?" That seemed rather stupid to her, even in her most anti-violence moments.

"We can defend ourselves, but it's hard against their relentless raids."

Raiding parties didn't sound like her definition of mindless animals, but she didn't press the point. "They killed your parents and your brother?"

His nod was a short, brutal slash of his chin.

"Is that why you're going to Bosuny? To ask for help against these Tarveen?"

He turned to her, his head lifted in surprise while the firelight flashed in the dark pools of eyes. "You are a quick innocent. I didn't think you would understand."

"You'd be surprised what I know about violence," she muttered. "So what is it you need? More weapons? Better defenses? What?"

Slowly he shifted his gaze from her, seemingly drawn to the pure heat of the fire. His mask of placidity, of gentle politeness fell away. What was left of his expression was a stark hatred that shocked her. It was a twisted thing that matched the tortured heat of the fire. His skin glowed red, and his eyes became flickering coals ready to incite violence.

"You misunderstand. In this land of sheep farmers and soft women, I am going to Bosuny to raise an army." His words were cold and low, and she knew with sudden shock that his whole being was focused on his private war with the Tarveen.

"An army? But I thought the Elven Lord forbid aggression."

"With or without the Lord's help, I will get men and arms. Then I will attack the Tarveen, and I will slaughter every one of them like the monsters they are."

"But," she stammered, still trying to absorb this new and violent side of Daken. "You'd exterminate an entire race of people? Men, women, and children? All?"

"I will kill every one of them." Then he turned his dark intensity on her, showing her the unshielded hatred within him. "And I will kill anyone who tries to stop me."

Chapter 4

Jane expected Bosuny to be a congested mass of people and animals fighting for a living among filth and degradation. After all, that was how she sometimes thought of modern day Boston, so how much worse would a city of this world be without sanitation, social security, or a solid police force? She prepared herself to be mobbed by beggars, choked by the stench, or even lynched as a witch for her odd clothing.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

Bosuny was a beautiful place of brilliant flowers in green fields, fat babies, and well-kept houses. The roads were made out of a cheery-bluish brick with sidewalks on either side in front of quaint little stores, cafes, and even what might be an office building or two. Looking down, she realized the streets were cleaner than downtown Boston and, as far as she could tell, free of homeless beggars or drunken derelicts.

By the time they reached the marketplace, Jane had fallen in love with the city. Even the central market square, which was indeed teeming with people, wares, and every sight, sound, or smell she could imagine, was clean, joyful, and a sheer delight to watch.

And the best part of all was the citizenry. She had worried that people would think her odd or worse, evil. As if the words "space alien" were tattooed on her forehead somewhere. But here, she fit right in. As far as she could tell, people of every race, breed, and color milled about the marketplace. Skin tones alone, whether natural or dyed, went through all the colors of the rainbow. Similarly, hair color and styles varied wildly. She had seen some of these races at the village inn, but nothing prepared her for the riot of human-type people and colorings that abounded.

Fashion generally consisted of tunics and trousers or leggings, although she saw a few sumptuous dresses with matching head gear on women. The well-dressed man appeared to wear fancy shirts and ties that seemed more like scarves.

She couldn't make out any of the languages spoken, although even her untutored ear could distinguish several different ones. By the time they had helped the trader unload his wagons at a fur booth, Jane felt a little shell-shocked from trying to see everything at once. Then she heard a familiar voice and a very unfamiliar belly laugh. Turning, she saw Daken, laughing for the first time since she'd known him.

"What's so funny?" she asked, craning her neck around a very fat woman to see the yo-yo type toy her son played with.

"You are, little fool. Your eyes are bigger than a full moon. Haven't you ever been to a market before?"

"Not like this I haven't."

She glanced back at him, as surprised by his happy, carefree expression as she was by anything in the market.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him as he started for an exit. "It is rather overwhelming, isn't it?" His voice softened with sympathy. "Come on. I'll find us some place a little quieter."

The moment she realized he intended to leave, she dug in her heels, drawing him back to her and the fair. Then, she let a slow smile pull up her lips as a delightfully wicked thought sneaked past her prudish defenses. "Daken, didn't I just see the trader pay you for driving the wagon?"

Daken nodded, his face growing more wary by the second.

"Well," she said, her head tilting as she pretended to think of something. "It seems to me that some of the money belongs to me."

"What?" He seemed more shocked than upset by her audacity.

"I did help you drive the wagon."

"You sat and complained about your backside."

"I kept you from falling asleep."

"On a buckboard?"

"I helped unload the furs."

"You carried one fur."

"I watched the horses."

He didn't argue that one, though his expression told her clearly that they hadn't needed her services there either.

"So you want to be paid for your... work." He toyed with his purse, letting the coins clink and rub together. "Exactly how much do you think you're worth?"

"More than you can afford, that's for sure," she shot back. Then she smiled. "Exactly how much did you get paid?"