Bride by Command (40 page)

Tired as he was at this hour of the night, Jahn leapt up the stairs to Level Seven and Morgana’s chamber, only to find it empty. For a moment he surveyed the dark, lifeless room in horror, and then, with hope in his heart, he raced to his own imperial chambers, where he found his wife waiting for him. He’d never known such relief, such solace. She remained dressed in green, and her eyes were wearier than he liked to see them.

“Victorious and not a scratch on me,” he said with a grin, holding his arms wide.

Morgana did not smile as her eyes fell on a nasty tear in his jacket, a rip caused by a blade which had swung too close. “Don’t ever joke about putting yourself in danger, Jahn. It isn’t funny.” She sounded very much like a wife, and he liked it.

“I could use a bath,” he said, reaching for the buttons of his imperial crimson uniform.

“Not yet,” Morgana said, taking his hand in hers and looking into his eyes. “Tell me you’re sure. Tell me you really love me and you don’t care that I have a power I might not always be able to control. Tell me that you would want me as your wife even if I wasn’t carrying your son.”

“I’m sure of all of that and more.”

Morgana relaxed. “I had to be certain. Let’s go.”

“Go?”

He allowed her to lead him away from the bed and the bath he craved, down the stairway to the ballroom which had been the site of such excitement earlier in the evening. Four tired sentinels followed, as ignorant of Morgana’s plans as Jahn himself was.

“Last chance to change your mind,” Morgana whispered.

“Never.”

She opened the doorway to the ballroom and revealed a small but important crowd. Father Braen stood upon the dais, with Ramsden nearby. A battle-weary Blane was there, as were Iann and Sorayo. Even Calvyno, with a bit of color in his face, was present.

“It might not look like much, My Lord Emperor,” Morgana said, “but this is a wedding fit for the ruler of a country.”

“And his empress?” Jahn asked as he walked toward Father Braen with Morgana’s hand caught up in his.

“Yes.”

He glanced around the room. “Where is Rainer? I thought he might be here.”

Morgana lifted her chin. “While you foolishly fought even though it was not entirely necessary for you to do so, Rainer and Lady Danya were married by Father Braen. They are much too busy to attend
your
wedding.”

“I imagine that’s true.”

It took a short while for preparations to be made, for Morgana to say a word to her father, for Father Braen and Calvyno to arrange papers and signatures and such. Soldiers, tired and in some cases wounded, continued to trickle into the ballroom as preparations continued, and soon the chamber was filled. These men should be having their wounds tended to or claiming much-needed rest, but instead they came here in droves.

The sun was rising before Jahn and Morgana stood before Father Braen and said their vows, making what was already in their hearts official. The light that poured into the room was warm and filled with life. It was a new day. When Jahn turned about, determined to take his bride to their bed as quickly as possible, he was shocked to see that the room was filled—and that when he faced them, every man in the room dropped to a knee and lowered his head.

Jahn stood there for a moment, stunned at the response.

Blane made his way forward. “Most of them have never seen you fight before,” he said in a lowered voice, “and they were impressed.”

“I didn’t do anything extraordinary,” Jahn said. He had fought like the others, no more, no less.

“My Lord, you rode at the front of the line and you fought well. You did not hide behind others or cower upon a hilltop directing others. You drew blood, and more than once you came to the aid of a soldier in need.”

Morgana
tsk
ed in concern for a battle which was now over. “Honestly, Jahn, you could’ve hidden or cowered a little!”

He looked down at her. “No, Ana, I could not. Emperor or not, that’s not who I am. No more pretending, not with you or anyone else.”

“No more pretending,” she whispered.

They walked toward the ballroom entrance, where people made way for Jahn with respect and awe. When they were away from the others and climbing the flight of stairs to their chambers, Morgana added softly, “Next time there’s a fight, I’m going with you. Once I have my abilities under control, think of what an asset I might be.”

“You are . . .”

Before he could say “not,” she broke away and ran from him, laughing. He chased her up the stairs, and just before he caught up with her, Morgana looked up at the ceiling—or beyond—and said with a smile, “Mama, you were right.”