Bride by Command (33 page)

The bond Jahn desired, the loyalty Sanura showed to Alix, could not be forced or bought; it could not be decreed. Such a treasure could only be given. As emperor he could command much, but he could not command a woman’s forgiveness; he could not order Morgana to love him as she once had.

Jahn waited calmly, wondering what was to come, realizing that anything was possible. He held Alix’s gaze steadily, and was surprised by the depth of the fierceness he saw there. Something within Alix had broken loose, just as Sanura had claimed. Jahn had to admit that he’d been foolish to believe that his brother’s struggles were behind him. Had this angry man always lurked behind the prince’s steady face?

The brothers were surprised when Sanura placed herself between them, the dagger in her hand pointed at Alix’s heart very near to the place where he had stained himself with her blue paint. She whispered something Jahn could not hear, though he strained to catch her words.

Alix responded, a cutting pain in his voice. “You would kill me to save him?”

“No,” the blue woman replied. “But I would kill you to save you.”

“That makes no sense.”

Jahn sighed. None of it made any sense to him, either. His patience was at an end. “Cut my brother and I will kill you.”

“I know,” Sanura said confidently and clearly. “I understand completely.”

“I don’t,” Alix said. “I don’t understand this at all.” He took his gaze from Sanura and looked squarely at Jahn once again. “If she does manage to kill me, you will not harm her and you will not imprison her. Do you understand?”

“Not at all,” Jahn mumbled. When it came to women, he understood nothing. That fact became clearer to him every day.

Again, Sanura spoke softly, her words for Alix alone. Jahn could not understand—and perhaps he didn’t need to. The woman had spoken of releasing Alix’s dark side and of trying to contain it. At the moment, it appeared she was failing miserably when it came to containment. Her voice rose slightly and Jahn heard one statement very clearly.

“You won’t survive if you murder your own brother.”

“Let him go,” Jahn ordered with confidence. “Alix won’t hurt me. We’ve been through too much together. He’s my brother, for God’s sake. He’s my
twin.
” No matter what demons Alix battled, no matter what traitorous thoughts might’ve clouded his judgment, their brotherhood was stronger than any dark influence. Wasn’t it?

“You’re a fool,” Alix said, for the moment paying no mind to the woman and the knife she held on him in such a threatening manner. All his attention was for Jahn, now, and the darkness, the hatred, was palpable. “I
will
kill you, if I get the chance. I will take the throne, this palace, everything you possess.”

Jahn experienced a flash of anger, a rush of hurt, and all the frustration of the past days flooded through him. Apparently he’d been wrong to think that in the end brotherhood would mean more than ambition or hatred, as he had been wrong about so many other things. How had he gotten himself into this mess? He had gotten himself into it by starting the contest for empress, by lying to Morgana, by refusing to believe that his brother could ever be a threat.

“Do you want the empress I’m supposed to pick?” he snapped, thinking of the one woman who had thus far arrived for his consideration—the intolerable Lady Danya. “Trust me, you can have her!”

“I don’t . . .” Alix began, and then his words died away. For a moment he looked lost, confused, uncertain, and Jahn saw a hint of the man Alix had once been flicker across his face.

“Yes,” Sanura whispered.

A moment later, Alix easily and fluidly moved the threatening dagger away from his flesh, as he could’ve done at any time. He pulled the blue woman into his arms and gasped as if the blade had found its mark. The expression on Alix’s face was one of pain and release and sorrow, and he seemed to fight for every breath. For a moment Jahn wondered if the blue woman had somehow poisoned the man she claimed to love, and then . . . everything changed.

Sanura dropped the knife so that it clattered to the stone floor, and she jumped into Alix’s embrace, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She laughed and cried, and together the two of them dropped to the floor, where Alix knelt with the woman caught in his arms.

So, who was getting killed here tonight? Anyone? Jahn walked toward the entwined lovers. “I’m so fucking confused.” Did the blue woman intend to kill Alix or make love to him here and now? It was impossible to tell. “Is this woman yours?”

“No,” Alix responded. “No one can possess something so bright and beautiful as Sanura. No one can own her. But I am hers, heart and soul. I belong to her in every way possible.”

Jahn sighed. Good Lord, how sentimental his brother had become. A menace one minute, a softhearted fool the next. He half paid attention as the two declared their love for one another and Sanura made it clear that the darkness which had driven Alix to plan to take Jahn’s life would never be entirely gone—
great
—but was under control.

And then, in a moment of clarity, Jahn realized what had happened. This change in the situation—the change in Alix—had not come out of nowhere, as it had appeared to. Alix and Sanura had communicated silently. There was no other explanation for what he’d just seen. They had shared minds, shared hearts perhaps, and the result was a startling change in the man who had apparently been considering—no,
planning
—to murder his brother and take the throne for himself.

Alix and Sanura were happy and in love, and Jahn tasted bitterness in his mouth, felt that bitterness in his heart. This was what he wanted from Morgana. Love. Forgiveness. A willingness to start again and look to the future. He wanted her to think about the days to come, not the mistakes of the past.

Though in his opinion the past had been very fine. It had just been tainted with a few lies and deceptions. He hadn’t planned to kill anyone or take over a country, he’d just wanted a few days or weeks as a normal man without the responsibilities of an emperor. Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was, at least where Morgana was concerned.

Alix’s words came back to taunt Jahn, and he could not help but wonder if those words applied to Morgana as much as—or more than—Sanura.
No one can own her.

 

 

RAINER
held Danya long after she fell asleep. She was exhausted, shaken from a long bout of crying and confession. And what a startling confession it had been. No wonder her attitude had changed during their trip to Arthes! It all made sense now. The fear, the anger, the way she had sent Fai away and had attempted to send him away—more than once.

If he’d thought for a moment that Jahn might choose Danya as empress, he’d be obliged to share what he knew. He certainly could not allow her to become empress, not when there were plans to take over the throne through a traitorous bride and an as yet unconceived child. As it stood, he had time to consider how best to handle the situation.

If not for the child Kristo held prisoner, Rainer would spirit Danya away from the palace tonight and they’d start anew somewhere far from this place. But there was Ethyn to consider. Poor Danya, she had done nothing but consider the child for weeks, afraid of what might happen to him if she disappointed Kristo. What hell she had been living in.

Danya woke with a start, perhaps due to a bad dream. She threw herself into Rainer’s arms and held on tight, then slowly calmed herself as she realized where she was and that she was not alone. She cuddled into his chest and her arms went around his waist.

She still wore the undershift she’d stripped to when trying to seduce him. He had taken off his shoes and his jacket, but nothing more. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as much as he wanted Danya, but he wouldn’t take her this way. He wouldn’t allow her to think she owed him anything, or that sex was the only comfort she could find with him.

“I dreamed about Ethyn,” she whispered as she settled more securely against his side. “Sometimes I see him in my dreams as Kristo described him, and he’s playing and laughing. Other nights I have nightmares where he feels Kristo’s coldness and is horrified by it.” She shuddered. “I have to save my baby, no matter what it costs.”

“I know.”

“Even if it means . . .” Danya began, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“I will help you,” Rainer said. “Together we will save your son, and you won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do in order for that to happen.”

Danya tilted her head to look at him, even though it was difficult to see much detail in the room dimly lit with the little bit of firelight that remained. “Why?” she whispered. “Why are you going to help me?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do and because I love you.”

She sighed and then cuddled against him, and soon her lips found his throat. Rainer groaned a little, unable to stop the rush of sensation. He couldn’t take much more of this and remain distant, even though he knew it was what Danya needed. She could not continue to equate declarations of love with sex, not unless she was willing to put him in the same category as Ennis. That bastard.

“When this is all behind us, love,” he said, setting her aside. “When you are entirely mine.”

She looked at him oddly, as if she didn’t understand. Rainer sat up and directed his hand toward the fireplace, sending a burst of energy to the flames in order to increase the heat and the light in the room. Danya was cold, and he wished to look upon her. The energy which flowed from his hand was not visible like Morgana’s, but it was no less effective. It fed the fire, it caused the flames to leap and dance.

He did not use his gift often—there was usually no need for it, and to abuse any magical gift could lead to trouble. But at this moment he did not wish to leave the bed and Danya’s side, even though he refused to do more than hold her.

Soon enough she would have all of him, and he would not allow her to be sorry that she waited.

“Angelo, will you stay the night?” she asked gently.

“Yes, I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He used the same power he had used to fan the flames to gentle Danya’s energy, to gently urge her back toward sleep. Soon she settled down and returned to sleep—and hopefully better dreams.

 

 

IT
was the middle of the night when Morgana’s door opened and a dark figure slipped inside. If she’d been sleeping, perhaps she wouldn’t have heard or seen, but this had not been a night for sleeping. The light of the fire illuminated him well enough.

How many other nights had Jahn slipped into the room while she’d been sleeping?

She lay there, unmoving, while he shed his crimson robe and then very gently sat on the other side of the bed. He dropped his head into his hands for a long moment before lying down beside her, not reaching for her or speaking or making any demands, but simply lying there. He had not come bearing jewels or clothing or shoes tonight, he just brought himself. That was all she wanted, to be totally honest. She wanted the man she had fallen in love with. She wanted Jahn Devlyn.

It would be easy enough to pretend she was asleep, and just as easy to sit up in indignation and insist that he leave her bed and her room. But instead she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You’re awake.”

“Apparently so. What’s wrong?”

“You’re awake and you have not yet kicked me out of the bed,” Jahn responded.

“Not yet,” Morgana said, and then she rose up on one elbow. “How often have you sneaked into my bed since I threw you out?”

“Every night,” he confessed. “Sometimes for a long while and other times for a few minutes. You’re a deep sleeper,” he added. “Usually. What’s keeping you awake tonight?”

She could not possibly tell him all that was on her mind! Until she decided how best to handle the situation, she would have to keep her problems to herself. One thing was certain: if she told Jahn everything, Kristo would somehow know, and the man who called himself her father would not go away quietly if his plans were spoiled.

She would love to tell Jahn that she was carrying his son, but until she knew what tomorrow would bring, how could she? “I will ask you one more time,” she said testily. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something is wrong?”

“The sigh, the way you hold your shoulders, the very fact that you are here—they all tell me that something is wrong.” Why did she care? Why did she want to know why he gave in to that sigh?

“I have lost my brother,” Jahn replied. “He’s not going to murder me in my sleep, but . . .”

“I would hope not!” Morgana responded.

“But he’s lost to me all the same. I think he will be happy, which is very nice, but he has another life now, a life which will surely take him away from here.” Jahn turned his face to her. “I’ve also lost the woman I love, and I don’t know how to get her back. Brothers should move on, I suppose, but wives should not.”

“You don’t have a wife,” Morgana said, but with less anger than she’d said those words in the past few days.

“And speaking of wives,” Jahn said, “someone is apparently killing the bridal candidates before they even reach the palace. All but one, and she is totally unacceptable. Then there’s you, a woman I love who has refused to . . .”

“We’ve had this discussion,” Morgana interrupted, hiding the horror that rose within her. She knew what Kristo wanted. Was he killing the women he would consider her competition? Was she the cause of yet more deaths?

“You asked what was wrong,” Jahn said. “I tried not to answer, but you persisted.”

“I did, didn’t I?” She settled closer to Jahn than she should, glad of the companionship and the warmth, seeking her own sort of comfort. She knew she should remain angry with him, but compared to what her long-lost father wanted, Jahn’s lies seemed almost insignificant. Almost.