Tempest (22 page)

Cadeyrn lifted a boot, resting it casually on top of the dais’s bottom step, his hand playing with the blade at his side.

“I have long suspected trouble from Medeisia. You know this. These rebels are proof of that. There is unrest there.
Much
unrest. Raemon is marking anyone who has magical abilities as well as anyone who can read or write, especially licensed scribes. Each one of these rebels carries a mark on their wrists, a burning star for magery or a busted inkwell for scribery. The girl Blayne accuses carries both marks. She is also the daughter of Garod Consta-Mayria, the emissary I told you no longer resides in his hall, the one whose duties have been absolved. That alone is proof Raemon no longer intends contact with our country.”

Freemont climbed the dais and sat heavily on his throne. “So, Raemon planned to start war between Greemallia and Sadeemia ...”

“And in the process, take advantage of our weakness,” Cadeyrn finished. “He forced a scribe to write an order for Gabriella’s death. If Blayne intended to warn you, why intercept the Greemallian ship rather than return to Majesta?”

Freemont continued to massage his temple even as his eyes hardened. He motioned to the guards. “Take Blayne to the dungeons.”

“Release the girl,” Cadeyrn added.

Freemont stood again, his hand up. “No, the girl remains a prisoner.”

Everyone froze. My heart beat rapidly. The hands on my shoulders tightened, forcing my knees to press harder against the marble. It was uncomfortable even through the gown’s skirts. I could see my face in the floor. It was the first time I’d seen my reflection since leaving Medeisia. My face was thinner, my eyes wide and much bluer than I’d ever seen them. My dark hair was wild around my face, clinging to my cheeks. There was something terrifying about seeing myself. There was no fear in my gaze. There was grief and something deeper, something I’d never recognized. There was strength and influence, determination and resolve.

“Her power is great. Question that, Father,” Cadeyrn insisted.

The king’s eyes felt like a weight on my head. “She still committed a crime. We can’t be positive she wrote the missive under duress.”

Cadeyrn snorted. “You know what I’m capable of. She doesn’t lie. I would know if she did.”

“You’ve become too comfortable with your abilities,” the king argued.

“And if I have?” Cadeyrn asked. “I’ve learned to respect my abilities and trust in them. They have kept me alive for a long time, even when I’ve wished they’d let me die. This woman isn’t an ordinary rebel. She is the daughter of a nobleman, and she is the girl of prophecy. Call in your scribes because you are looking at the phoenix mentioned in the Book of Truth,” Cadeyrn revealed.

Freemont grew rigid. “The phoenix,” he breathed. “It’s not possible.”

Cadeyrn took a step toward me. “Do you not question why she travels with a wolf and a prince of dragons?” he asked. “She speaks to them, and she aids the dracon. She will bring peace to her people.”

I let my gaze move upward, my eyes finding the king.

Freemont’s face grew red. “At the cost of your life!” he thundered.

Cadeyrn stood still, unflinching. “What’s my life to peace?” he asked. “Her goal is to remove Raemon from power. He is a threat to us, whether you believe he is or not. I suggest we aid her in this endeavor.”

“We’ve removed the threat,” Freemont insisted. “You’ve ousted Blayne, and we know now to stay on alert.”

Cadeyrn stepped in front of his father, his tall frame looming over the king. “Raemon will be a risk until we remove him from power. This attempt on Gabriella is the opportunity to go to war on our terms.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Freemont asked.

Cadeyrn’s jaw tensed. “I am not wrong.”

His confidence was thrilling. It made me shiver, made his guards and the other rebels stand taller. Freemont gazed at us all, his eyes finally resting on me. I didn’t look away.

“So young to be so deadly,” the king said, his eyes hard. My heart froze, ice encasing it. Deadly. I wanted to clutch my chest but didn’t dare move.

“Take her,” Freemont ordered. “I won’t take any chances.”

The guards lifted me, jerking me to my feet as they forced my hands behind my back. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out as pain shot down my arms.

There was a roar, and I was thrown back down again as the men who held me dragged me across the floor.

“Do we kill it!” a man cried.

“Lochlen!” I screamed. “No!”

I knew without looking that he had transformed.

“Do it, and I will fight against you, Father!” Cadeyrn yelled.

The prince’s threat made everyone pause. Was he really so dangerous with a sword that his own people feared him?

I pushed myself off of the floor, turning to find Lochlen with his wings spread, his golden body lifted, his teeth bared. His massive frame took up most of the chamber, but it didn’t seem to impede him.

“You would dare rise up against me?” Freemont bellowed.

Cadeyrn’s sword was loud when he pulled it from its sheath. “To safeguard Sadeemia, I would.”

My guards had lost interest in me, their eyes on the dragon. It was then I noticed the dagger.

The guard next to me glanced periodically from the king to the dragon, his hand closing over a wicked looking blade shoved inside his surcoat. I stiffened as he drew it slowly, his gaze on Lochlen’s underbelly.

“Oran,” I whispered. I knew he’d hear me, even with my voice too low for human ears.

The wolf’s head rose from where he lay on the floor near Maeve and Daegan, his teeth bared.

“Cover me,” I ordered.

His dark eyes moved to mine before following my gaze to the guard with the dagger. The prince still argued with the king.

I went to my knees just as the guard drew back his hand, the dagger in his palm. Everyone was so distracted—by the dragon, the king, and Cadeyrn—they didn’t notice when I swung my leg out, cursing my skirts as I swept the guard off his feet. He landed with a loud cry to the floor, the dagger clattering to the marble. Rolling, I grabbed it just as Oran tackled the other guard, his gaping jaw opening over his throat. The man froze, his eyes wide.

I crab walked toward the chamber wall before using its support to rise to my feet, my knuckles white against the guard’s blade.

All eyes were now on me, weapons wavering as the king’s guard tried to determine who the bigger threat was, me or the dragon.

My breath came hard and fast as my gaze slid to the king. “If you allow any of your men to kill the dragon, your war will be with much more than Medeisia. I’ve seen the dragons’ king. I have bowed before him, and there is little mightier than he.”

Cadeyrn’s gaze locked on his father’s. “The dragon could destroy every man in this room with a single breath. He holds back now because he seeks the same aid the rebels do. Desperation makes the simplest men into warriors. It’s been too long since you’ve stood on your own battlefields, Father. Trust me when I say Medeisia is an enemy now, their king a bigger threat than any of us would like to admit.”

“His country is weak,” Freemont argued.

“And yet how often in history has the strong been felled by the weak?” Cadeyrn pointed out.

The king stood a moment in silence before he inhaled, the sigh deep as he lifted his hand.

“Stand back. No one will die today. If my son believes Raemon is a threat, then I will listen. We will convene in council on the morrow.” Freemont’s gaze flew to his son. “But though I agree with your assessment, I do not agree with you about the girl. I do not trust her. Remove her to the towers. She will be well taken care of there.”

Guards moved toward me, and I dropped the dagger, letting it clatter to the floor. My hands lifted so that Maeve, Daegan, Lochlen, and Oran understood I meant to go in peace. We needed the king’s help, even if it meant my surrender, my imprisonment. In the king’s mind, I was a threat to his son, and I could respect that.

Cadeyrn knelt suddenly, sliding his sword violently across the floor, the metal flashing as it swiveled, catching the guards by the legs. They fell onto their backs as Cadeyrn held out his palm, his sword returning to him as if it were called.

“I have the warrior’s right,” Cadeyrn announced. “By law, I am the girl’s original captor and may take her as my slave. I claim that right.”

I froze, my gaze going to Cadeyrn’s, my ears roaring. I’m pretty sure I shook my head. I even thought I heard Daegan and Maeve protesting as Oran growled ominously. Lochlen had calmed, and he watched as he often did, observing quietly as if he saw and knew everything.

Freemont gaped at his son. “The female war law is barbaric and has not been practiced in years.”

“And yet you have not abolished it,” Cadeyrn pointed out. “It is still my right. She will be taken to my chamber, not the tower.”

No! I flattened my palms against the wall, my eyes wide with horror. I knew Cadeyrn had a consort, knew that he’d shared his bed with another since his wife’s death. Was he saying I was supposed to do the same?

Freemont stared at his son. “You will be responsible for guarding her at all times. I can’t risk that. She could slit your throat in the middle of the night.”

“And yet, I have the right to risk it,” Cadeyrn stated, his tone final.

Freemont chose not to argue, his eyes going to Lochlen as the dragon transformed, becoming the russet-haired man with the disconcerting eyes once more. The setting sun in the sky above our heads cast long golden rays into the room, making his hair look like fire.

“My civility is short lived,” Lochlen announced. “The dragons choose Prince Cadeyrn. We will accept him as our military leader for any war that overthrows King Raemon of Medeisia. We will even accept him as the girl’s guard if you fear her so, but imprison her anywhere else, and I will destroy every man in this room and damn the consequences.”

I was still shaking my head. Over and over, I shook it. Daegan and Maeve looked just as startled as I did. What was Lochlen doing?

King Freemont’s jaw tightened. “So be it. The war council convenes tomorrow afternoon, and this matter will be settled once and for all. In the morning, we receive Gabriella, the princess of Greemallia, and my son’s future bride. Our alliance with Greemallia is needed now more than ever.”

The king turned, his hand over his eyes, his fingers rubbing furiously at his forehead. It seemed the only dismissal we were going to receive.

The king’s guard escorted us from the chamber while Ryon and Madden guided me sullenly away from the group. Oran followed.

I looked over my shoulder only once, my gaze meeting Lochlen’s. I shook my head, but his stare intensified. In it, I read his silent words …
trust me
.

Chapter 25

Ryon and Madden were tight-lipped, their gazes full of disapproval when they led Oran and I into a decadent upstairs room. Unlike the hall below, the castle’s second level was well decorated, the white stone walls covered in amazing tapestries and paintings, many of them ancestral. We had passed an open parlor and study before entering a hall with thick oak doors. Each one had a symbol carved in the wood, most of them celestial. There had been a moon on this door, a full moon. Grains of wheat had been carved around it. The Harvest Moon.

I didn’t have a chance to wonder much about its meaning before Ryon slammed the door in my face. I could hear the guards settling against its exterior, and I released a long suffering sigh before turning, my eyes sweeping the room.

Cadeyrn’s chambers were magnificent. There was a small living area with velvet cushioned settees and a large wine-colored throw rug before a massive hearth. Beyond it was his bed, an oak four poster with an equally dark comforter. It matched the rug.

Oran moved around me, padding across the floor before settling in front of the hearth. A low fire burned there, and I welcomed its warmth. I wasn’t sure if it was the setting sun or the thought of Cadeyrn sharing the room that made me so cold.

“I can’t do this,” I said.

Oran looked up at me. “He won’t touch you,” he promised.

I glared at him. “How do you know?”

The fire caught in the wolf’s eyes. “Because grief has a way of forming walls between people. Even if he still didn’t mourn his wife, I do not think the prince is the kind of man to force a bereaved woman.”

I was inclined to agree with Oran, but there was still a knot in my gut that tightened each time I heard a noise on the other side of the door.

I swiveled, my eyes catching on a large desk in the corner of the chamber opposite the living area. Large, potted plants sat on each side of it, the leaves dangling over the polished mahogany. The leaves shook when I stared at them.

“
Hello, child
,” they said.

I sighed, letting the plants’ words roll over me, comforting me.
 
I knew they didn’t need a reply; that they’d only spoken so I would know they were here.

I pushed my fist into my stomach and moved to sit on one of settees. I’d barely gotten settled when the knob on the door turned. I stood again, my palm flat against my belly.

Cadeyrn entered, his gaze finding me before moving away again. He didn’t say a word. He simply moved through the room before pausing next to his bed.

There was only one bed in the chamber, the massive oak four poster with its thick, feather-stuffed mattress. I refused to sleep with Cadeyrn. I wouldn’t touch him. I couldn’t.

The prince must have noticed my discomfort and took pity on me.

“There is an adjoining bed,” he said.

He reached toward the wall nearest him, placing his fingers inside a small niche I hadn’t noticed before. The wall slid back, revealing another four poster bed almost as big as the main one. I stared.

“Why are there two?” I asked.

I walked over to the wall and inspected it. It was a moving panel that pulled shut using a rolling system. If Cadeyrn had not opened it, I never would have known it was there. It fascinated me.

“This is a marriage suite,” Cadeyrn replied. “All suites have two beds; one for the husband, the other for the wife. There is a dressing closet behind the panel as well.”

I glanced between the two beds. A marriage suite?

“Was this the room you shared with your wife?” I asked, my voice low.

Cadeyrn didn’t look at me. He moved to his bed instead, untying his tunic at the neck. The Henderonian pendant he wore winked at me from where it lay in the v of his chest. I took his silence as an affirmative answer. He was offering me his wife’s bed.

“We don’t have marriage suites in Medeisia,” I said suddenly. Even I heard the tremble in my voice. “Wives share their husbands’ beds.”

Cadeyrn unfastened his sword belt and hung it on the bedpost nearest his pillow.

His gaze met mine. “Sadeemia is peculiar in its formalities. Noble women are often offered their own chambers or beds upon marriage. It doesn’t always mean they use them.”

I nodded. “So your wife shared your bed then?”

Cadeyrn paused. “Would it matter if she did?”

I heard the curiosity and annoyance in his tone, but shook it off, my gaze moving back to the bed beyond the panel.

“I just didn’t want to sleep where she slept,” I said quietly.

It didn’t seem right, my taking the bed of a woman who’d once been married to the prince.

“Then have no fear,” Cadeyrn assured me. “She never slept in the adjoining bed.”

Cadeyrn’s voice brought my attention back to him. He was watching me. Maybe my reaction was odd to him, but I couldn’t imagine ever sharing the things I had shared with Kye with anyone else. Because of that, I didn’t want to tarnish Cadeyrn’s own memories by invading his wife’s bed. It put me at ease knowing she’d never used it, that she’d shared her husband’s bed, especially since I had no intention of ever doing so.

Cadeyrn pulled his tunic over his head, and I quickly averted my gaze but not before I caught a glimpse of the tattoo on his skin. It truly fascinated me. It, like the pendant, was Henderonian. It told a story, but there were too many symbols in the knots and twirls of black ink for me to decipher it.

“There’s a dressing screen and a change of clothes beyond,” the prince offered. “I had my wife’s things removed, but a new wardrobe was commissioned in anticipation of Gabriella’s arrival. Some of them are already in this room. The others are in her betrothal chamber further down the hall.”

I walked behind the panel and found the screen. A clean dressing gown was draped over it.

“What does your tattoo mean?” I called out to Cadeyrn. “It’s Henderonian, is it not?”

I pulled my surcoat off and unlaced my gown, discarding it before pulling the dressing gown over my chemise. The prince hadn’t answered, and I stared at the screen separating us.

“Is it like the pendant you wear? Does it stand for your family?”

When the prince still didn’t answer, I peeked around the screen to find Cadeyrn sitting on the edge of his bed, his chest bare. He looked up, catching my gaze before I had a chance to duck away again. My cheeks flamed. It wasn’t him I was interested in, it was the story on his chest.

Cadeyrn sighed and patted his mattress. I joined him on the bed, but sat as far away from him as I could. He didn’t rebuke me for it.

Cadeyrn traced a finger along the design on his chest, following the black twirls as they moved around his breast and onto his stomach. “There is an old Sadeemian legend about creation and love. Unlike your country, we have only two gods, a god and a goddess. In the beginning of time, these two gods joined in marriage.”

The prince’s finger settled over a particularly complicated design, and I moved closer, squinting. I thought I saw a heart, but every time I tried to focus on it, it disappeared. An illusion. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I’d never have known it was there, lost as it was among the circles, knots, and lines. I sat back again.

“Their love was a great love,” Cadeyrn continued. “It was so great that they gave birth to many children who grew, and over time, inhabited our land. They prospered and multiplied. Their children were mortal children, born from the loins of a god but with the lifespan of a human. Those born with magic were considered more directly connected to the god and goddess, but they were not revered. Only the gods could be revered.”

Cadeyrn’s finger moved to his side. The ink looked angry, like furious waves upon a stormy sea. His voice lowered. “But power, no matter how weak or strong, makes many people greedy. A mortal woman, a virgin servant of the god, fell in love with him and grew envious of his wife, the goddess. Each day her hatred of their love grew, becoming so strong that she began to seek her own immortality, her own way to trick the god into loving her as much as he loved his queen.”

I found myself smiling despite the tense atmosphere in the room. “It is always a woman,” I said, “who leads the man to ruin.”

Cadeyrn didn’t disagree. “It does seem history favors the vengeful and beguiling female.”

My gaze wandered back to his tattoo. “Did the woman find a way to trick the god?”

“Aye,” Cadeyrn answered. “The woman was a powerful mage who practiced her magic with an obsessive vengeance, watching the goddess and studying her. Born a mortal, the woman could not take the shape of her goddess. However, over time she perfected a potion that fooled men’s eyes, a potion that made them see whatever the creator willed them to see. The woman’s success fed her arrogance and greed. If she could perform such magic, surely she deserved the god’s love. One night, she slipped the potion into her master’s wine while serving him, for then the gods lived in a palace on the mortal realm. Her spell succeeded, and she tricked the god into her bed. But the god’s immortality fought the magic, and the spell failed before morning. The god became aware of the woman’s deception, but as fate would proclaim, so did the goddess. The goddess was enraged. She fought heavily with her husband, and barred him from ever having contact with her again. Out of desperation, the god killed the mortal woman who deceived him and was forevermore shunned by the goddess and his people. This god became Sadeemia’s god of unrest, and the goddess became our goddess of serenity.”

I sat for a moment processing the story before I inhaled.

“The tattoo tells the entire story?” I asked.

The prince’s lips twitched. “A more condensed version, but yes.”

I stared at the design. “Such a tragic love story,” I whispered.

Cadeyrn watched me. “All love stories are tragedies.”

I thought of Cadeyrn’s murdered wife, and I thought of Kye. My hand went instinctively to my chest, clutching the dressing gown where the pain hurt the most. Tears threatened, and I swallowed. Were all love stories really tragic? It seemed history favored tragedies, but I’d read of great love stories, too. Happy ones. Peaceful ones. Kye had said the best kind of love hurt like hell. I grieved his loss, but I think it would have been worse if I’d never known him. I loved that I’d loved him.

My gaze met Cadeyrn’s evenly. “I’d rather love too much,” I said. “There is never love without hurt, but I’d rather hurt than to have never loved.”

With that, I moved to the bed beyond the panel, sliding it only halfway closed before climbing onto the feather-stuffed mattress. I heard Oran pad into the space to settle next to the bed, but he said nothing. The mattress was softer than anything I’d ever slept on, and yet I spent hours lying awake, my eyes on the open panel.

Cadeyrn moved in the room beyond, his shadow looming on the wall as candles flickered. I heard him cleaning his sword, and watched as his shadow form leaned over a sheaf of parchment. He mumbled to himself as he worked, repeating figures and ideas as he went over them, his voice too low for me to hear clearly. And he paced, tracing the perimeter of the room as if he were checking for dangerous dust bunnies. There were no windows in this room, no way to access it other than the door.

The prince paced so long I finally gave up on sleep, his restlessness causing me anxiety.

“Do you fear attack?” I asked, my voice loud enough to be heard beyond the screen.

The pacing stopped. “No,” he said after a moment. “I am less feared when out in the open. Attack is more likely to happen beyond the palace walls rather than within.”

I stayed silent, and he paced once more.

Sleep wasn’t easy for me these days; I relived too much in my dreams. But if it was hard for me, it seemed impossible for Cadeyrn. I’d not noticed this in the desert.