Bride by Command (6 page)

He started to walk away, and she grabbed his loose, dark blue sleeve to stop him. “Wait.” Even though she always refused his offers of marriage, she did need Gyl. He was the only person in the world she truly trusted. The only one she knew would love her, no matter what. Her money had bought the soldiers—the mercenaries—who followed her orders, just as it had bought the jewels and fine dresses she wore and the servants who saw to her needs. A shared hatred and quest for power had brought others to her. She needed them all, but only Gyl cared.

“You don’t understand what they did to me,” she whispered, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“I understand very well,” he replied. “It was a terrible injustice, but you have been clinging to that pain for too long.”

Surely if she told him again he would understand. “I tried so hard to be a good wife, a good empress, but Sebestyen wouldn’t let me. I tried to love him, I
did
love him, but it was not enough. He couldn’t keep his hands off his whore, and when he grew tired of toying with me, he and that harlot Liane drugged me and threw me into a hole in the ground. They made me watch as they touched and smiled, and then they tossed me into Level Thirteen to die.”

“But you did not die.”

A part of her had died, but she could not make her lover see that. She couldn’t even entirely explain it to herself. She was not the same wide-eyed innocent who had become Emperor Sebestyen’s fourth empress. “No, I did not die. I lived so that one day I could deliver retribution. I lived so that I could deliver justice.”

Again, Gyl touched her face. She loved it when he caressed her so, and she closed her eyes to revel in the sensation. “Living with hate has poisoned your soul, Rikka. We might’ve married long ago and had children of our own. We might’ve made a new and beautiful life free of revenge and plots and blackmail. You wouldn’t allow that to happen, because your revenge was more important to you than anything else in life. Why am I still here?” he asked with wonder in his voice. “I should’ve left you long ago, but I keep hoping you will see what your hate has done to you and you’ll forsake it so we can start anew.”

“Stay with me,” she begged. He sounded as if he were actually thinking of leaving her. She couldn’t bear to lose him, not when she was so close to the end, so close to all she desired. “Soon the worst of it will be over, and you and I can live in the palace in Arthes.” It would be some time before the plan came to fruition, of course. A marriage, a baby, a murder . . . those parts of her scheme would take months, perhaps years, but they would happen. And she would be there to see it all, to orchestrate and savor each step. “Together we will have everything we’ve ever wanted.”

“All I’ve ever wanted is you, Rikka,” Gyl said.

That was nice to hear, it was very sweet; but for Rikka no man could ever be enough, not while her hatred for what had been done to her lived on. She burned with her old pain and humiliation. She dreamed of killing two people who were long dead.

Seeing their children disgraced and in the ground would be the next best thing.

 

 

MORGANA
was pleasantly surprised to find herself relaxing somewhat as the days passed. One day became two, two days turned into three. She was concerned that her stepfather had not come for her yet, but it wasn’t as if the sentinel who had claimed her insisted on consummating the marriage right away. He didn’t even request that she do much work, though he did ask her to pitch in now and then. She did, glad to have an occasional chore, any chore, to take her mind off her situation.

Her pretty pale blue dress was already stained in a few places and showing the wear of travel. Almund hadn’t even given her time to choose proper traveling clothes! But at least he had allowed her to change into sturdy half boots instead of her usual slippers.

Perhaps, only perhaps, she had let go of some of her anger because Jahn had sworn he had no interest in the Ramsden lands and wealth. He could be lying, but somehow she did not think that was the case. Besides, it was best to keep control of her temper. Irritated as she was at the current state of affairs, she did not want her anger and frustration to lead her to yet another murder.

Annoyed as she was at the man and the situation, she had not once felt the growing icy cold that had preceded her flash of destruction just a few weeks ago. That surprised her a little, since she’d been alternately scared and angry and frustrated—as well as savoring recent moments of total relaxation and peace. Her emotions had been high on more than one occasion in days past, and yet she had not felt even a hint of a chill. Of course, Jahn hadn’t physically confronted her, not even in the smallest way. If he tried to take her as Tomas had, would she lose control and let loose a burst of cold, icy death?

Even though she did not know him all that well, she didn’t believe Jahn Devlyn was the kind of man who would do what Tomas had done. More than that, perhaps deep down some part of her realized she was in no danger while in his company, and that knowledge made it possible for her to keep her curse buried deep, where it could do no harm. Did something inside her recognize Jahn’s promise to protect as real and true?

Jahn thought she was beautiful and would make a good wife. If only he knew that she had killed a man. She was a murderess. She had not planned or wanted to take a life, but she did not think those details mattered much, in the grand scheme of things. A man—a less-than-honorable man, to be sure, but a living being all the same—was dead, had died a horrible death, and it was her fault. She could not escape that fact.

They had stopped for an afternoon break, a needed rest for the horses and for themselves, and Morgana found herself standing on a small, green hill looking down at a pond of the clearest, stillest water she had ever seen. The sun reflected off the surface as if off glass, and the trees at the edge of the pond seemed to grow toward the water as if they longed to jump in but could not, as their roots held them at a distance.

She took a deep breath of cool, crisp air, and felt a rush of peace she did not ordinarily experience settle in her heart and her soul. How unexpected, that she should find any peace at all on this journey. Did distance from her crime make it possible for her to relax? Was she running away?

Jahn walked down the hill to the edge of the pond, and she watched as he washed his face, his hands disrupting the stillness of the water, sending ripples to the center of the large pond. She would not remain married, and she was still mightily annoyed at him for stealing her away from her home, but she had to admit he was nice-looking, odd beard aside. He was pleasant in personality, and he was strong and protective. Worse men might’ve taken advantage of her stepfather’s heated vow, she supposed. If she were a peasant girl looking for a man to take care of her, he would do better than most. Much better.

Hadn’t she, not too long ago, dreamed of being such a woman, a woman with no responsibilities? No expectations?

No curse.

If Jahn annoyed her greatly over one thing or another, would the curse rise up to take him? Would his protective-ness keep her at a distance from the type of situations which would make the destruction within her rise past all her defenses? She did not know, and that was another part of her curse, perhaps the worst part. She did not know what tomorrow would bring.

Face washed and waterskins refilled, Jahn climbed the hill to join her. Though in days past Morgana had often made it a point to avoid talking to him, to avoid coming face to face with him for a moment longer than was necessary, today she stood her ground. He had given her no reason to fear him, no reason to run. She realized, for the first time, that she had slept more since leaving home than she had since Tomas had died. With a blanket on the hard ground as her bed and the sky above, she had slept.

“How long before we reach Arthes?” she asked, searching desperately for some reason to speak to the man who called himself her husband.

“Four days, perhaps five,” Jahn answered. “If the weather holds, I’d say four days will do it.”

“What will we do if it rains?” she asked, looking up at the clear sky. Springtime could bring unstable weather.

Jahn grinned. “We will get wet.”

“You said you would take care of me.”

“Getting wet is hardly a danger, unless you’re sickly and catch cold easily. Are you sickly, Ana?”

She should chastise him for calling her Ana, but did not. “No, I am not sickly. That doesn’t mean I like getting wet.”

“We don’t always get what we want in life, now do we?”

“My current situation proves that well enough,” she snapped.

His blue eyes twinkled, as if he actually liked making her angry. “It has always been my opinion that women rarely know what they really want. They might
think . . .
”

“You’re not serious . . .”

Jahn winked at her, and something terrible happened. Morgana’s heart skipped a beat. The man was maddening! He had that horrible beard and he’d kidnapped her—more or less—and he had no idea what women liked or wanted or needed. And for a moment, just a moment, she experienced what could only be called an intense liking for the infuriating man.

“You’ve got some color in your cheeks,” he said, his smile fading. “The sun’s been good for you, Ana.”

She did not tell him that she suspected it hadn’t been just the sun that added color to her cheeks.

With indignation, she turned her back to Jahn and stalked away. She’d taken only three steps before she realized she had nowhere to go.

 

 

DANYA
pursed her lips toward the mirror and fluffed her dark hair. “I don’t know why I can’t go to Arthes and take up residence
now,
” she whined.

Standing behind her, Danya’s mother—still pretty, dark-haired Rheta Calliste—glowered. “It would not be fitting for you to seem too anxious. There are more than six weeks, still, before the emperor will make his choice, and the journey to Arthes will not take much more than eight or nine days.”

Danya turned around and smiled gently at her mother. Frowning, or smiling too widely, caused unsightly wrinkles. Perhaps she was only twenty-two years of age, but she knew all about wrinkles. After all, she had four older sisters. “Mother, I might become empress. I might sit at the side of the most powerful man in all of Columbyana, I might give birth to the next emperor. Think of the jewels and the parties and the clothes. Think of the fine shoes! What woman would not be anxious about the possibilities?”

“Fine,” Rheta said pragmatically. “Just don’t make your excitement so clear for all to see. Every man, even an emperor, should have to work to gain the affection of his bride. You should display at least a modicum of indignation that you’re to be inspected, that there are five other women in the . . . the contest.” She whispered the final word, finding it distasteful.

Danya did not care how this reprieve had come about. She was going to escape! “That deputy minister of something or another has arrived to escort me, and he seems anxious enough to leave. Is it fair to make him wait while I dawdle?” True, the emperor’s man had said she could take all the time she needed to prepare herself for the journey. She could make him wait a month, if she insisted that she needed more time to prepare. But no, she wanted to escape
now.

“Yes,” Rheta said succinctly. “Remember that one day that deputy minister and many others might answer to
your
orders. He can and will wait a few more days while you prepare yourself.”

“Mother, I’m prepared!” Danya said impatiently. Oh, was she prepared! She could not wait to get out of this house.

“Well, let’s not allow the emperor’s servant to see your eagerness just yet, shall we?”

Danya could not tell her mother why she was so anxious to leave the only home she’d ever known. A part of her longed to tell everything, to cry and plead and confess, to lay her heart on the line and sob for what had been lost. But another part realized that this staid and proper lady she loved so much would not believe her. At the very least, she would not believe the details, and the details were very, very important.

Rheta would also be so disappointed and aggrieved—even if she did believe the tale in it entirety.

Danya’s mother waved a well manicured hand. “Besides, all your sisters and their husbands are coming here for a lavish farewell dinner, three days from now. I had wanted the party to be a surprise, but it looks as though I’ll have to tie you down to keep you from beginning the journey to Arthes for another three days.”

A cold chill walked up Danya’s spine, and in the mirror she could see that her face paled. She detested family gatherings.

“I would like to have my girls together one last time before you leave,” Rheta said in a gentler voice. “It’s difficult enough to see you go, and if the emperor chooses you and you remain in Arthes, then it will become even harder.” A mother’s expression was difficult to deny. “Please stay. Once the family party is done, you can race for Arthes and your destiny, if you’d like, though I think a few more days are not too much to ask.”

Danya, unable to speak, nodded her head. She would stay for her mother’s sake, but in truth the planned party was one more reason for her to run for Arthes as soon as possible.

And though she would not, could not, tell her mother, even if she was not chosen as the new empress, she would not return to this house and take up her position as the youngest and prettiest and, yes, silliest daughter of five. No, she wasn’t ever coming back here, and for that reason she would allow her mother one last family gathering. There would not be another with Danya in attendance.

JAHN
could not help noticing that as they moved closer to Arthes, Morgana glanced over her shoulder more often. As the final days of their journey unfolded, she insisted on stopping frequently, then watching their trail for her stepfather and those she believed he would surely send to collect her, once he realized he had been foolish to give her to a lowly sentinel—oath to God or not. Did she think that by stopping often she would give her stepfather the chance to catch up with them?