Bride by Command (32 page)

“Have you decided to withdraw from the race for empress?” he asked, his gaze raking up and down her body.

“No. I intend to be empress in a few days. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I do want you, Angelo. We’ve been coming to this moment since the night you bloodied Ennis’s nose,” she said. “We’ve been headed here,
hurtling
here, to this bed, since the day we met.”

“You would invite me into your bed and then turn around and take another man as your husband,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You would give yourself away, offer yourself without compunction, without love.”

The word made her heart leap. “I didn’t say I don’t love you.” The truth of the words was painful as it sank in. She did love this kind man who deserved so much more than anything she could ever give him. She did love this man who looked at her now as if he were disillusioned.

“Why do you not ask for more?” he whispered.

“I am asking for everything you have to give.” Frustration was clear in her voice.

Angelo shook his head slowly. “No, you’re not asking for much at all. You give yourself away too easily, Danya. To Ennis, to the emperor’s command, to me . . . Why do you not demand more? You’re beautiful, and you’re smarter and stronger than you allow anyone to see. And yet you demean yourself more often than not. You don’t demand respect or love when you should, you just grasp for whatever you think you can take from life, as if what you desire might disappear in an instant if you don’t snatch it up in your greedy hands. I have tried to see into your heart, but in truth I don’t understand you at all. You have a good heart, but it is so wrapped up in desperation that it has been blinded. Your heart has been hidden for so long you don’t . . .”

“You don’t know me,” she snapped. “You don’t have any idea why I do the things I do.”

“Then tell me,” he said, moving close and wrapping his arms around her. “Something is very wrong, I know that’s true, and yet you hide the truth from me the way you hide everything else. I want very much to share this bed, or another, with you, but not until you’re entirely mine. I won’t share you, Danya; I will never share you. When you’re mine, only mine . . .”

“I can’t be yours!” Danya said, her mouth all but buried against his warm chest.

“When you’re mine,” Angelo said again in a calmer voice, “then we will share everything.”

Danya felt like she was falling apart, literally crumbling to pieces in this man’s arms. “If you don’t love me, if you don’t become my lover, he’ll make me kill you.” She shuddered. “I’ve done what I can to keep you alive, but if we’re not together, he’ll know. He knows everything,” she whispered, and then she grabbed Angelo and held on tight.

“Who?” he asked sharply. “Who do you think could make you kill me?”

Danya sobbed, and the truth broke loose. “The monster who has stolen my son.”

 

 

LONG
after the man who’d claimed to be her father had left her, Morgana stood silent and still at the window which overlooked the western fields. The moon shone on fields wet with the evening rain, alive with the coming of summer.

She wished that she could dismiss the awful man as an impostor and a liar, but he knew too much. The man who called himself Kristo Stoyan knew why Morgana’s mother had been so insistent that her daughter be allowed to choose her own husband. He knew about the power Morgana had never wanted, and somehow—some way—he even realized that she’d killed a man with her anger. He hadn’t threatened outright to tell others about the death, but the threat had been there, gently undeniable.

He also said that if she continued to work on control, as she had in days past, she would soon find other powers which would serve her well. Apparently Kristo could sometimes peek into the minds of others. Strong-willed people were tougher to read, he said, as were those who were close to him—like her. He saw flashes of the past and the future, and used his knowledge to his own advantage.

She was so glad Kristo had not been able to reach into her mind. He would not have liked what he found there.

He’d been anxious to tell her more about the power they shared, and Morgana had listened carefully—and she hadn’t liked what she’d heard. If she embraced the power and allowed it to come to its full strength, he’d said, she would one day be as cold as he was. Instead of a sliver at her core, she could be filled with the power and no one would be able to stop her.

All her life Morgana had wondered and even dreamed about her real father, a man she’d been told was dead. She’d imagined how much better her life would’ve been if he’d lived, how much he would’ve loved her, how close she would’ve felt to him. He would’ve loved her unconditionally, he would not have made her do things she did not wish to do. Childish fantasies of a father she’d never known had taken root in her mind, and she’d not put them away as she grew to adulthood, as she should’ve.

She’d always made a point of calling the man who’d raised her
step
father, as if she could not allow herself to think of him as a real parent, as if her real father would’ve been better, as if he would’ve loved her more.

And now she knew without doubt that Almund Ramsden was her father in every way that counted. He’d loved her, cared for her, demanded that she behave like a lady and learn all she could. And in the end he’d given her to an emperor.

He would never have asked of her what Kristo asked.

Sensing her anger and disappointment with Jahn, realizing that she was a prisoner here, knowing that she had blood on her hands—and yet not sensing her regret, an emotion he apparently could not understand—Kristo believed the two of them shared a need for vengeance. Morgana had allowed him to continue to believe that as he’d laid out his plans. To deny him would only make him take immediate action, and she knew what kind of action he would take. Kristo would turn Jahn to stone without a second thought, and she could not allow that to happen. He would turn the sentinels who guarded her to stone, and though she had been angry with them since learning the truth, they were still her friends.

She had not forgiven Jahn, but neither did she hate him. Hate was a poison; talking to Kristo for just a few minutes had proved that to her. She did not want to become like her real father—she didn’t want to let hate rule her life.

Understanding what kind of man he was, she’d allowed Kristo to believe that she was willing and even anxious to go along with his plan. Any other choice would lead to disaster. It would lead to immediate madness.

The child she had only suspected grew inside her was indeed real, if Kristo and his magic were correct. It was a boy, he said, an emperor who would share their powers. After she had held them in for so long, fighting for control as the day grew long, tears leaked from Morgana’s eyes. She did not want her child to share in her curse—she did not want him to struggle as she had.

She placed a hand over her stomach, fingers splayed. No, her child would not struggle. He would be taught from an early age how to control the abilities which were a part of his birthright, just as becoming emperor was his birthright. He would be loved and cared for, always; he would be warm, not cold.

But first, Morgana had to find a way to save her child’s father from the plans Kristo had set into motion.

IN
spite of Jahn’s promise to Sanura to remain out of sight until the First Night of the Summer Festival, keeping his presence in the palace a secret turned out to be impossible. A message from Alix had found its way to Jahn, and he could not ignore it.

Jahn waited in the ballroom for the appointed meeting with his brother, and he was not alone. Two Tryfynian soldiers, as well as the two guards from Claennis, anxiously watched the main entrance. All four of them were incensed by real or imagined wrongs, and anxious to do battle with Alix the moment they saw him.

There were armed sentinels in the hallway outside that door, sentinels who would charge in at Jahn’s command. But at Alix’s request there were none in the ballroom. The prince apparently wanted privacy for whatever he had to say on this night.

Jahn paid little attention to the massive main doorway the others watched so diligently, fully expecting his brother to join them by way of the hidden stairway which would allow him to move through the palace with some secrecy. Sure enough, after a short wait the inconspicuous doorway which was built into the wall at the back corner of the ballroom opened almost silently, and Alix appeared, his companion at his side.

Sanura, the woman Jahn had spoken with just a few days earlier, was now painted a lovely shade of blue. The blue cosmetic clung to her skin quite naturally. Though Jahn had heard that this was sometimes the case, he was still taken aback at the sight.

“Interesting,” he said as he took a moment to study the woman. He then turned his consideration to his brother, who looked rougher and decidedly more menacing than Jahn could ever remember. Alix had always been so careful with his appearance, so fastidious, so unerringly noble, but tonight he displayed a wild side which was unknown to Jahn. With others in attendance, now was not the time to comment on the changes he saw in his brother. “We are all here, just as you commanded. I understand you and I have some business to discuss, but why are these other men present?” Surely Alix knew that these men wanted him dead. They had all threatened to kill him, and if their claims were truthful, they had some right.

Alix ignored Jahn and guided his blue woman toward the others. Both Tryfynian soldiers placed their hands on their swords, ready to fight the man they blamed for the death of their princess. Sanura’s guards looked as if they were anxious to rush Alix and take his head here and now, but they did not. Not for the first time, Jahn acknowledged that being emperor had its advantages. Bloodthirsty as they were, these men were afraid to act in his presence—and with good reason. No emperor would stand back and allow a man to take his twin’s life.

“We’ll take care of the easy tasks first,” Alix said, walking toward the Tryfynians. He didn’t seem at all worried about the swords. Perhaps he knew, as Jahn did, that violence in this room would be incredibly foolish.

“You morons,” Alix said darkly, a dangerous timbre Jahn was not accustomed to hearing in his voice. “I did not kill Princess Edlyn. She was an annoying little twit and I won’t miss her, but I did not kill her. It was Tari, who did the deed at Vyrn’s insistence. I suspect the same person who attempted to have Lady Verity murdered also planned the princess’s murder, as well as arranging the scene to make it look as if Sanura and I were guilty.” He glanced back, and his eyes caught Jahn’s. “Someone does not wish my brother to marry, or so it appears. Since only one potential bride has arrived, I would suggest that the others have had challenges and accidents, and perhaps even more deaths, along the way.” He turned away, once again glaring at the Tryfynians. “Besides, if I’d wanted the princess dead, I could have arranged some method of death which would not have pointed directly at me. I’m not an idiot.”

The Tryfynian soldiers looked suitably humbled, their air of righteous indignation diminished. The hands on the grips of their swords fell away as they recognized the truth of Alix’s words. Jahn had not believed his brother capable of murder, but still, he felt a rush of relief at hearing the words from Alix’s own mouth.

Alix turned to the men who claimed to be Sanura’s protectors. “I understand and appreciate that when you tried to kill me, you were only doing your duty,” he said, “but you must realize that you are no longer in Claennis, and you cannot murder a man for innocently touching a woman.”

“Innocently?” one of the guards shouted.

“In theory,” Alix said, “it doesn’t matter. Blue on a man’s skin means death, unless he is the one, the only one, who possesses Sanura.”

“That is correct.”

Alix reached out and quickly ran his hand across Sanura’s arm, and then he raked the blue stain from his hand onto his bare chest. When that was done, he moved quickly, perhaps realizing how the foreign men would react. With lightning-fast moves he disarmed one guard and then the other, tossing the weapons across the ballroom. The scream of metal against stone rang in Jahn’s ears before the swords came to a halt a good distance away in this cavernous chamber.

Alix drew his own sword with strength and grace, and Jahn wondered if the man his brother had become would kill these unarmed men. He was certainly capable. But Alix did not swing his blade. His voice was a low rumble as he said, “If you cared at all about protecting Sanura, you would’ve used those weapons on the men who claimed to own her as if she were a pretty jewel or a strong horse. You would’ve used those blades to cut out the hearts of women who would rip her insides apart in the name of some damned man’s convenience. If you cared for her at all, you would not allow any man to
own
her!”

The two unarmed guards took a step away from Alix, and Jahn couldn’t blame them. The man they faced looked capable of anything.

“Go home,” Alix said, his sword remaining steady. “Sanura is now mine to protect. Be assured that if any other man ever touches her, I will do what you could not.”

The guards both looked to the blue woman as if for direction, and she nodded. One of them foolishly made a move toward his weapon, which lay several feet away, but Alix stopped him. “Leave the swords. You don’t deserve them.”

Without a word of argument, the two foreigners backed toward the Tryfynian soldiers and the doorway. Alix waved his sword in their direction, directing them all out of the room. He quickly closed the door behind them before he turned to face his brother.

Jahn had the sinking feeling the night’s drama had just begun.

“Now, on to our business.”

To watch Alix take care of the Tryfynians and Sanura’s protectors had been fascinating and even amusing, but Jahn was not amused to have those dark eyes turned on him with such hatred. As he’d watched and listened to events unfold, his mind had occasionally wandered elsewhere, most often to the woman who so ardently refused to forgive him. He wanted Morgana to remain at his side the way Sanura remained with Alix. He wanted the close bond these two so obviously shared—though he did prefer the natural color of Morgana’s fair skin to anything so outrageous as Sanura’s blue.