Adrienne (4 page)

Malik raised his hand and Adrienne stumbled back to get farther away. She sucked in a surprised breath when a glass orb appeared out of thin air to float over Malik’s hand.

“This is not a joke,” he assured her.

“Okay, so you can do magic. Big deal. I’ve seen…”

He reached out with his other hand and pulled a sword out of the air. The same sword he’d used to kill Josh and Greg.

Adrienne tried backing away but ended up on the ground when she tripped on the bed cover.

Malik released the sword, which continued to float, and pointed at Adrienne. He gestured towards the ceiling.

She looked up, thinking there was something to see, then yelped as her entire body lifted into the air. Her yelp turned into a cry of panic when the blanket started to unravel. She grabbed at it to hold it in place and it fought against her.

“You can believe me or I can continue,” he said with a grin on his lips.

“I believe you. I believe you. Stop it. Put me down,” she yelled.

“As you wish, though I preferred to continue.”

The blanket stopped fighting with her and her feet were placed on the ground. She sat on the bed in relief. Her gaze stayed on Malik to see what he would do next.

“To answer your earlier question, I first have to explain the history of Ulan and Kakra.”

“Of who and who?”

Malik smiled. “I am confusing you and I am sorry.”

She was way past confused. Confused was the last rest stop before the eighty-mile stretch she found herself on now.

After a moment of silence, she asked quietly, “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“No, my lady.”

“But—”

A knock at the door cut off what she would have said next.

Malik glared at the door. “Come,” he snapped.

The woman from earlier entered the room followed by two younger women carrying trays. The older woman excused, “I am sorry to interrupt. I took as long as I could, Majesty.”

“Fine,” breathed Malik in frustration. He pointed to the table near the windows. “Put the food there and leave. I do not want to be disturbed once the door closes behind you. Is that clear?”

The woman nodded quickly. She signaled the younger women forward and followed after them but stopped when she chanced a glance at Adrienne. Surprise showed on her face. “Are you cold, Highness? I can use a warming spell—”

“Mushira,” Malik warned in a cold tone.

Adrienne grabbed on to the opportunity to keep the women in the room. “Mushira? Is that your name?”

“Yes, Highness. The two girls are Hani and Nimat. We are your lady’s maids,” Mushira answered with an encouraging smile.

Adrienne looked at the girls. They looked close to her age. They weren’t Asian—or, she should say, Asian-looking—like Mushira. This wasn’t Earth, after all, and Bron might not have an Asia.

Mushira had introduced the girls too quickly so Adrienne didn’t know which was which and couldn’t match their names with their looks.

The blonde girl to the left of the table was tall and willowy. The smile on her face looked like it was never far from the surface and her green eyes glittered with it.

The other girl was a head shorter than her companion and looked Indian—India Indian: brown skin, dark eyes and black hair. Like Mushira, the girls had their hair braided and wrapped around their heads in a crown.

Both girls stopped unloading food onto the table and curtsied to Adrienne.

She nodded at them with a wan smile, and then looked back at Mushira. “So, you’re the one who put me in this nightgown?”

Mushira must have heard the accusation in Adrienne’s tone. The woman bowed her head and answered quickly, “I’m sorry if the gown is not to your liking, Highness. My only excuse is that I have yet to learn your tastes and therefore couldn’t guess what you would like to wear.”

“Okay,” Adrienne said in complete dismissal of the woman’s apology. She didn’t care if the woman was sorry. She wanted to be decent. “Is there a robe or something around here that isn’t see-through?”

“Of course, Highness. I should have set it out for you as soon as you awoke. I was careless in that regard,” Mushira said in a shaky voice. She glanced towards Malik, then rushed over to the closet and rifled through it to find the robe. Once she pulled it out, she all but ran back across the room to present it to Adrienne. “Here you are, Highness,” she said with a quick curtsy.

Adrienne didn’t take the robe, even though she wanted to. It was perfect—orange, floor-length and terrycloth-esque. Her problem was with Malik. She glared over at him.

He turned his back before she could tell him to. Her attention stayed on him for another few seconds before she trusted he wouldn’t turn back.

Mushira helped her out of her blanket cocoon, and then she put on the robe. Adrienne wasn’t happy until the front halves of the robe completely overlapped, almost cutting off her oxygen, and the sash tied in one huge knot. She thanked Mushira.

Mushira stammered out another apology.

Malik yelled, “Out. All of you. Now.”

His tone made Adrienne flinch. She watched, helpless, as all three women curtsied on their way out the door. Nothing she could say would keep them there.

He smiled at her and she looked away from him to stare across the room. The food-laden table was in her direct line of sight. The smell hit her as soon as she looked at it, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before.

“Would you like to hear how I came to choose you, now, my lady?”

Adrienne ignored his question to move towards the food. Nothing looked familiar but it all smelled delicious.

She asked over her shoulder, “Can I eat while you talk?”

He joined her at the table before answering, “Of course. I would not dream of making you wait until the end of such a long story.”

Malik held the seat for Adrienne and she thanked him automatically. Her good manners ended there. She grabbed a piece of bread and bit into it before Malik rounded the table to sit.

The orb Malik had summoned earlier floated over to the middle of the table and grew. It stopped at the size of a small television. An impressive trick, but Adrienne was more interested in her food.

“Bron is a world in which magicks exist, Adrienne. Unlike on Earth, science never had a chance to stamp it out.”

Around a mouthful of meat, she asked, “Is there any way to skip to the important parts that explain why you kidnapped me?”

“A spell was cast to lead me to my perfect mate, and you are it, Adrienne.”

“By?”

“By what?”

“Who cast the spell?” Adrienne asked in annoyance. Malik’s grin made her think he was being purposefully vague to make her ask questions.

He tapped the orb. A tall Asian man appeared. Malik said, “This man.”

“Who is that?”

“Kenji.”

“Who the hell is…” she trailed off on a growl. It took a great deal of will to keep from throwing her knife at him. “You’re being obtuse on purpose. Stop it.”

“You told me to skip to the important parts, my lady. I do but obey.”

She sighed and decided to play along. “Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Whatever you were going to tell me. Just tell it your way.”

“Are you sure?”

She pointed her fork at him in a threatening manner and he laughed. The sound preceded a soft fuzzy feeling, like touching cotton. It made Adrienne want to laugh even though she felt annoyed, not amused.

Malik began, “Because of stipulations set forth by my ancestor, I must marry before my twenty-fifth birthday or I will forfeit my throne.”

“What does that have to do with me and the spell that found me?”

“You said you wished me to impart this information in my own way, my lady.”

Adrienne rolled her eyes, then signaled him to continue. She planned to ignore him and eat anyway; it didn’t matter what he said or how.

The soft, fuzzy feeling intensified.

Amusement tinged Malik’s voice as he continued, “In order to answer your question about Kenji and why he cast the spell, I must first explain about the feud that exists between Ulan and Kakra.”

Chapter Four

Forty-eight generations ago, Malik's kingdom of Ulan and its bitter rival Kakra were joined as one kingdom under the rule of Derex, Malik's ancestor. Foluke, the combined kingdoms, was the strongest of Bron's thirteen kingdoms.

“Earlier you said there were fourteen kingdoms,” Adrienne corrected.

“I assume you know simple math, my lady.”

She glared at him.

“Take away two and add one, that is thirteen.”

“Get on with it.”

Malik tapped the orb again. A red-headed man seated on a throne appeared. Beside him, a small Asian woman sat on her own throne. Two men, one with black hair and one with red, stood on either side of the couple. Malik pointed to the standing man with red hair and said, “This is Kakra.” He moved his finger to point at the man with black hair. “This is Ulan.”

“Let me guess, the kingdoms were named after them.”

“Yes.”

Ulan and Kakra were twins and bitter rivals in all things. Their constant fighting threatened to tear Foluke apart. Derex decided to split his kingdom along the Tano River and give each son their own kingdom to rule upon his death. He hoped this would placate his sons and the feuding would stop.

He was wrong. Each wanted to rule Foluke as a whole, not simply a part of it. Derex decided to use his sons' greed against them. He set forth two stipulations on the newly formed kingdoms: only legitimate sons could inherit, and the heir to the throne had to be married before his twenty-fifth birthday.

“Only kids born in wedlock can be crowned.”

“No, my lady,” Malik replied. “Only
sons
that are
conceived
in wedlock may inherit the throne.”

“There's no way to be sure the child was
conceived
in wedlock.”

Malik unbuttoned his shirt, smirking when Adrienne stopped eating and watched him. He felt her confusion return along with an edge of fear and a tiny hint of curiosity. His bride wanted to see more of him, and he planned to show her.

He peeled back his shirt and revealed his shoulder, tattooed with Ulan's crest—a coiled serpent. “This crest is magickal and only marks legitimate children, sons and daughters alike, though the daughters will never rule,” Malik said.

“Why not?”

“Derex felt women were too stupid and emotional. Kakra agreed. Ulan, however, married a competent queen who could help him rule. His son Kenji did the same.”

“He's the one who cast the spell?”

“Yes. Kenji cast a blood spell—the most powerful kind—that would flow through the generations from one Ulanian heir to the throne to the next. Each time, the spell would find the heir's perfect queen, who would be equal in magickal power and rule at his side.”

“I don't know magic,” Adrienne said in a cheerful voice. “That means I'm not the one you want. Feel free to send me home.”

Malik reached across the table to caress Adrienne's cheek. He didn't need to touch her but doing so proved his point faster. He asked, “Do you feel that?”

“Your hand? Yes.”

“No. Warmth. Warmth that makes your skin tingle and your body feel hot. Do you feel it?” he purred. Her small shiver was his answer. He leaned across the table. A smile curved his lips when Adrienne did the same.

Their faces were only a few inches apart. He could bridge the distance easily. Instead, he whispered, “What you feel is lust, Adrienne.
My
lust for you. That you can feel it is proof that you are my intended bride.”

Her lips parted and she gave a tiny gasp. She looked at him with wide eyes.

Malik felt the murmur of her lust on his skin. She had started to respond to him and he wanted to act on it. He couldn't. He needed to be wed to Adrienne before he could have her.

He threw himself back into his seat with an annoyed growl. “You are my bride and we will be married.”

“What if I don't marry you?” she asked. She met his eyes but he didn't see defiance, he saw curiosity, and felt it, too. “If Kakra comes to take your throne, just fight them off. You seem like a good fighter and, I'm betting, you make sure your army is full of good fighters, too.”

“I would lose,” Malik answered. “Only because Kakra would have the help of Kontar, our neighbor to the north. Derex made them our watchdog. He married his daughter Selene to Kontar's then-king and charged her and her descendents with the task of making sure Ulan's and Kakra's rulers adhered to his rules.”

“How long have you ruled, Malik? Where are you parents? Did they step down so you could rule?”

“Kakra had my parents assassinated. My mother when I was three and my father when I was ten.” Involuntary vehemence entered his voice.

Talking about his parents annoyed him faster than anything else, but Adrienne didn’t know that. While her curiosity didn’t cause his anger, the topic of his parents’ demises needed to be avoided.

“Why? Why would Kakra’s ruler kill them?”

“Hollace knows only greed. He probably thought I would be an easy target once my parents were out of the way, and then he could claim Ulan and re-form Foluke,” Malik said. “After my coronation, I had the palace moved to Ulan’s Eastern island and an entire navy placed between me and harm.”

“My God.” Her eyes searched his across the table. She whispered, “You’ve ruled Ulan since you were ten? But why? Wasn’t there a…a…what are they called?”

“Regent,” he supplied in a lackluster voice.

“Yes.”

“No. There are no regents. There are only rulers and heirs to the throne. That is the way Derex wanted it and that is the way it must be.” His words sounded bitter and tasted worse. Malik watched Adrienne for a reaction. Seeing and feeling her confusion and uncertainty made his anger ebb away.

He looked up at the orb, which had changed its image to show all the people and places Malik mentioned. His parents stared out at him. The pain of seeing them returned, even after all this time. With a small push of will, the orb went blank. His parents were gone—as they were supposed to be.

“How old are you now?”

“In three months I will be twenty-five.”

“Yeah, that’s right, you said that earlier. Sorry,” she said absently.