Blinded by the Sun (Erythleh Chronicles Book 4) (27 page)

But since... Surely she must have bled since, but the games, and the exhibitions, and then the proposal, then the arrangements for the wedding and the other ceremonies... she must have forgotten...

"As I thought." Shinu chuckled again. "Need I explain more?"

Lyssia put her hand on her stomach. It couldn't be, except that it likely was... It was certainly possible, definitely probable. "No. You needn't explain."

"You're tired, and hungry."

"All of which can be explained away by current circumstances."

"But you've missed your blood, and Mirta is losing her mind about letting the seams of your dress out."

"But it's only been two moons."

"Which is quite long enough for your belly to be swelling. Particularly since you've always neglected your appetite somewhat."

A child. Lyssia didn't dare hope that it could be true. She'd resigned herself a long time since to never knowing how it would feel to hold her own babe in her arms, to never seeing her own child laugh and stumble, to never feeling a tiny hand clutch her own. She was not ignorant, she knew the way by which children occurred. Shinu was right, two moons was long enough, if Kavrazel's seed had taken that very first night. Perhaps all her dreams would come true after all.

"Will you tell him?" Shinu interrupted her silent musings.

"Yes. There's no way to be more certain for some time, but he will want to know of the possibility."

Shinu nodded in agreement. "As long as you are prepared for him to carry you around on a velvet cushion all day."

Lyssia sighed heavily. She would have liked to have contradicted the Blood Father, but he was right. Once the king found out she was pregnant, he would likely treat her like spun glass. The thought had its advantages and disadvantages both. Lyssia smoothed her hand over her stomach and decided it was up to her to steer a course between the two.

~o0o~

Lyssia stretched against the luxurious sheets and felt Kavrazel do the same. Both were pleasantly exhausted following their exertions. The cool breeze from the open window brushed over her sweat-slicked skin. She hadn't passed one night in her own bed since the first time that she and Kavrazel had been together, and she found that she minded the sensation of being so far removed from the ground much less when the king's arms were around her. She could tell that he was on the edge of sleep, as she was. She took his hand from where it lay relaxed and limp on her thigh, and placed it low on her belly. She felt the heat of that innocent touch deep into her womb, and imagined the little seedling within her turning towards that sense of its father's presence.

"Mmmm." Kavrazel half turned and nuzzled dozily at her neck. "Are you trying to tell me you want a child?"

Satisfaction had its own glow. "I'm trying to tell you that it's too late to decide either way."

Kavrazel sat bolt upright, but did not remove his hand from her stomach. Lyssia laughed at the look of astonishment on his face, knowing that he was not displeased by the news in any way. "By mine and Shinu's reckoning, you'll likely be a father come the third moon of the new year."

"It can't be..." The king appeared to be quite insensible, which only made Lyssia more amused.

"Given that we've been doing what we just did almost every night for the last two moons, I assure you it can."

"No, I mean, I know it can... Only that it can't. It's not possible..." his stuttering adamance ignited a real fear in Lyssia. She knew Kavrazel wanted children; he hadn't mentioned that there would ever be any difficulty in the begetting of a child. He answered her look of concern. "It's not possible for one person to be this happy. It's not possible for one man to get everything he's always wanted all at once. It's not possible for life to be this perfect."

Lyssia's brow was still creased, but with rather more annoyance. "No it isn't. You're right." Now the king was scowling. "Yes, we're getting everything we've always wanted, but I think we've fought hard enough to deserve these rewards, don't you?"

"No." Kavrazel's expression eased. He smiled and brushed a light kiss against her shoulder. "No struggle could be worthy of this joy, but I'll take these gifts anyway. Gladly." His lips worked their magical way from her shoulder, across her collar bone, up her neck, along her jaw, to her mouth. "And I'll keep them with both hands."

"One thing, my Lord." Lyssia halted his exuberance with a hand to his chest. The king groaned at being denied. She knew well what that term of address did to him, the way that it excited him. "I'm only with child. I have not lost the use of my arms or my legs."

"But if you should hurt yourself." It was writ plain on his face that he did indeed intend to cart her around on a velvet cushion until she gave birth, as per Shinu's prediction.

"I haven't lost the ability to walk in a straight line and stay upright on the earth. I'll not submit to meddling, or coddling."

"Please..."

"A little, then," Lyssia conceded. "But if I tell you it's too much, you will listen to me."

"I won't make that promise."

"Then I'll extract one from Girogis to challenge you whenever I give the word. That should make you think twice."

Kavrazel groaned in defeat. "I'd prefer to keep this news as private as possible, for the moment."

"Then you better control your protective instincts, my Lord." Kavrazel groaned again, but there was real heat to the sound now. "Shinu and Girogis won't tell."

"Very well, minx. But in here, when we're alone, I'm free to treat you as I please."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way." Lyssia tried to stifle her squeal of pleasured shock as he rolled over her and kissed all the breath from her body, but it was a battle she was bound to lose.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Thirty-nine years - twenty-one of them spent ruling the country of Vuthron - and in all that time he had never once been nervous when performing his official duties. He was nervous today. There was much at stake, too much. The decision to end the trade in slaves had been well received, principally due to the generous compensation arrangements offered to every citizen who owned a Blood Slave. If the culture of Vuthron was to change, if the Vuthroans themselves were to offer the toast, then they had no need of their slaves, and that meant another mouth to feed, a burdensome one for many.

In some ways, that had been the fulcrum behind the acceptance of the decision. Many poor families, although glad of the extra pair of hands, were pleased to no longer be beholden to adding extra members to their household. The rich seemed not to care one way or the other. If anyone disagreed with the concept of Vuthroans offering their own blood for the toast, they kept their opinions to themselves. Only the most foolish would have disagreed with the logic of honouring Taan themselves instead of delegating the duty.

The slaves had been given the option to return home if they wished. They were to receive their own compensations, and they would be given safe passage. Kavrazel and Zella had colluded to form a covert group to discover any slaves that were being mistreated, any who might dearly wish to return home, but who were prevented from doing so by their covetous masters. Kavrazel hoped for better from his subjects, but he wasn't ignorant of the failings of people. He ruled over human beings, with all their flaws and perfections. Such inadequacies had to be anticipated and accommodated.

However well the changes might appear to have been received in such a short span, it was still a major cultural shift. They were riding the tide of his power, of his reputation, as the most fearsome and supreme monarch in all history. Kavrazel himself had been amused by reports of rumours that Taan had gifted Vuthron their most potent ruler with this very notion in mind. Some gossips were even whispering that his hair being the colour of rusted iron marked him out as Taan's living child, or the breathing embodiment of the god. He was not so conceited, or presumptuous, to pay much regard to such ridiculousness.

During such a time of change, Kavrazel knew that the level of danger to his personal self, and anyone that he held dear, was at its greatest. Even if he hadn't been mind-bendingly in love with Lyssia, he would have taken steps to protect her. Wedding her and crowning her as his queen might have been overkill if his feelings had been less, but as things stood, he could not overstate her importance to him. The wedding was as much of a warning as it was a ceremony; it was a statement of her importance to him.

The commotion of the ceremonies and festivities would be the most vulnerable time for an assassination. However unlikely, again, Kavrazel would anticipate and accommodate the foolish arrogance of those who might think they knew better. Multha's finest warriors were all present. Their armour and weapons had been polished and tended. Most common folk thought the attention had been paid in honour of the occasion. Everyone else knew that they were prepared in expectation that an attack could take place.

A contingent of those soldiers were waiting with him now. He was standing by the open carriage that was to take him and Lyssia to the temple, first for the inaugural Blooding ceremony, then for their wedding, then for the moment that she would be crowned as his queen. They weren't late, but Kavrazel was impatient nonetheless. Shinu had insisted that they be parted the night before, his excuse being that Lyssia would need to begin her ablutions as soon as possible in the morning. Kavrazel thought that the former Blood Father might simply have been being mischievous, but it would have been churlish to accuse him of such.

The sound of applause and cheering began to swell through the open doors of the castle. The noise must have been great indeed to reach him where he stood on the other side of the moat. He couldn't think what would have been the reason for such excitement, until he saw Lyssia appear from the shadows.

She looked fit to stand as the bride of Taan himself.

The dressmakers had captured the essence of flames in the swirling silks that bore all the hues of a raging fire. The shape of the dress was simple, fitted at the bodice and flaring into huge skirts, but the way that the fine fabrics had been twirled and twisted into place was spectacular. The sunset shades made Lyssia's dark skin glow, or rather, her skin gave light to the material. Her condition could not be discerned by anyone who didn't know, except that she was the very picture of vibrant, glowing health. Her eyes were luminous, made more so by Shinu's artful use of makeup. As she drew closer, Kavrazel could see that her hair, drawn back to expose her beautiful features and elegantly bare neck and shoulders, had been curled, and twisted with blooms of the deepest crimson.

He had to cough and clear his throat several times. He knew that if he were to try to speak, he would sound like a green lad on the cusp of manhood. He might have been embarrassed in the presence of the stern warriors at his back, but he knew that they were all equally dumbstruck. Even Girogis was devoid of a clever quip.

He had been silent and staring for too long. Lyssia began to look unsure as she approached. He could find no words, but he could just about make his feet work. When he reached her, he realised that he didn't know what to do with her. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and take her straight back through the castle to his chambers, or perhaps place her on a pedestal to stare at for all time. He could do neither of those things, and for all the reasons that he couldn't take her away and devour her, he couldn't embrace her and risk undoing all Shinu's artistry.

It took Kavrazel a moment to figure out where he could touch her without disturbing any element of her ensemble. He placed his palm against her neck, and let his thumb drift under her rouged lips.

"You are a vision."

"Fit for a king?"

"Fit for a god."

"I do not aspire so high. I want only the man before me."

"Good. I would battle Taan for you." He was edging beyond impatience to intolerance. Ceremonies be damned, he wanted to reach the point of the day when Lyssia had been declared his wife and they were alone in a place where he could strip her of all this wonderful artifice.

"Let us not begin the day by angering him with blasphemy." Lyssia raised her palm in suggestion. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Kavrazel took her hand and folded it around his arm. He escorted her to the carriage for their trip to the temple, and did not lessen his contact with her for a second, just in case he was dreaming.

~o0o~

The carriage ride had been borne on a tide of cheers and good will. The streets had been lined with people, crowded so deeply the some had climbed trees to obtain a better view. Somehow the majority appeared to have magicked flowers to bring along with them; single stems and small posies were tossed at the carriage as they trotted by. Fortunately, the speed of the horses, combined with poor aim, meant that he and Lyssia were only knee deep in floral tributes by the time they arrived at the temple. When the carriage door was opened for them, a small cascade of blooms fell out like a waterfall.

Kavrazel assisted Lyssia to the ground, and then, with Girogis at her other side and their retinue of soldiers following them, they ascended the temple steps. Kavrazel kept his pace sedate out of deference to Lyssia and the constraints of her outfit. By the time they reached the summit, she was leaning heavily on his arm, but she gave no outward sign of exertion. In all ways she maintained a perfectly regal attitude, even though the corsets must have been mightily uncomfortable and the weighty skirts surely had been tugging at her hips.

Kavrazel halted to give her another handful of moments to catch her breath, and turned to wave at the crowd. Lyssia smiled gratefully, and lifted her hand likewise.

"Thank you," Lyssia murmured.

"Just know that I would have you naked as soon as possible," Kavrazel whispered at her ear.

Lyssia turned a little towards him. "I'm not sure that's an appropriate way to speak to your queen."

"You're not my queen yet, minx. And besides," he brushed her lips with his, "I think it's the most appropriate way to speak to my queen."

The crowd, sensing a rare intimate moment, increased the volume of their chanting until the word "KISS" was discernible in the melee of calls.

"May I?" Kavrazel asked, mostly teasing, as well as conscious of the havoc he might wreak on her makeup.

"Yes, my Lord."

Lyssia was chuckling at his pained groan even as he pressed his lips to hers, swallowing the sound. He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her as close as her skirts and petticoats would allow. The voluminous material meant that she was almost bent backwards over his arm. The crowd grew wild with exhilaration.

They left the near riot behind, and entered the shadowed sanctuary of the temple. The atmosphere within the hallowed structure was quieter, more sedate, but filled with its own strange energy. There was a nervousness, not for the king or his bride, but for the children who would be announced as adults this day. The thick incense was comforting, a blanket against the vivid exuberance of the day outside.

Kavrazel led Lyssia to the dais in the centre of the temple. The crowd parted to make way for them, bowing as they passed, like wheat before the breeze. Kavrazel accepted, but did not enjoy, the obeisance. Tethva, who was waiting for them on the altar, did not bow. Kavrazel would have seen the arrogant priest brought to his knees, but it was neither the time or the place.

He could tell that Tethva wanted to say something, likely some inappropriate and cutting comment that he felt secure enough to utter because he was the Grand Master in the temple of the Fire God. Kavrazel was wearing his crown, his armour, and several of his weapons, but he knew it was as ill-advised as ever to strike the priest down, no matter how serious the affront.

As Tethva leaned forward, Girogis stepped in front of Lyssia and murmured at the priest, "Before you insult her or the king again, I would remind you of your manners. No one would be surprised if you were found to have sacrificed yourself to Taan, if you were to be so overcome by your supremely devout nature. You grow insolent, old man, and I tire of your attitude. Think on that."

That Girogis should be the first to lose his temper astonished Kavrazel. That Tethva was gaping like a fish out of water was so funny that Kavrazel had to cough into his fist to hide his chuckle. Lyssia had dropped her eyes demurely, but he glanced at her, and could see from the workings of her jaw that she too was trying to resist a fit of giggles.

"You would let your guard speak to me like that?" Tethva eventually managed to rasp.

"I would help him slit your throat and drain your body," Kavrazel responded in all seriousness. He wondered if Tethva would refuse to be part of the ceremony now, but he guessed, correctly it seemed, since the priest did not stomp away, that Tethva's need to be front and centre at all times was still motivating him.

They arranged themselves with Kavrazel and Tethva facing each other on the dais. Lyssia and Girogis were at Kavrazel's back, a step below the altar. He would have preferred to keep Lyssia by his side, but the lack of space made his possessiveness impracticable. Having Girogis by her side was the safest alternative situation that he could conceive of for her.

The crowd began to seethe as all those who were present to be part of the ceremony - the Vuthroans who had achieved their sixteenth year since the first moon - stepped forward. They crowded onto the dais, and where they wouldn't fit, they surrounded the platform. Tethva spoke words, self-important and overblown, until Kavrazel caught his eye and silenced him with a look. It was a day to pay homage to Taan, not for Tethva to glory in the sound of his own voice.

Kavrazel used his own blade to make a small cut in the wrist of each supplicant. Each one would only be required to produce a few drops, since they were so numerous. Tethva held the moulded silver bowl as they all added their blood in offering, much as Kavrazel and Lyssia had done on the day that they had begun to celebrate victory over the giants. Once they had all performed their duty, had all paid their blood price to the fire god, Tethva handed the bowl to Kavrazel.

"Blessings to Taan the almighty. May his power endure. May his will be right. May his enemies tremble before him. May his friends know the warmth of his blessings. May his fire burn forever."