Fyne Sisters - The Star Witch Part 10

feel free to call me by my given name."

His name teased her tongue. She did enjoy the way he said her name, with just a touch of a Tryfynian accent and as if he enjoyed the taste of her name in his mouth. Still, calling him Lucan would bring them that much closer, and she knew some distance was best.

"You hesitate," he said in a low voice.

"I'm not sure I know you well enough to call you by your given name, Captain," Isadora argued.

He leaned down and kissed her throat. "Mere moments ago I was inside you. Do you still feel me there?"

"Yes," she admitted in a reluctant whisper.

"You slept in my arms, you kissed my mouth again and again, you rode me like a tigress. And yet you

say you do not know me?"

His scattering of kisses on her throat made her tingle from head to toe, and she closed her eyes. "I will consider your argument," she conceded.

He drew away from her reluctantly. "You have the stubbornness of a Circle warrior, Isadora." A smile barely touched his lips. "Though I have never seen a soldier near as pretty as you."

"I'll see you this afternoon," Isadora said as she opened the door to her room, handed Hern the candle he would need to find his way down the stairwell, and slipped into her own room. She closed the door, and for a moment after stood there with her hand over the cold stone of the doorway that was built into the wall.

She took a deep breath, turned...

And almost ran into the Emperor Sebestyen.

JULIET ROSE FROM her pallet and faced the morning sun. All around her, Anwyn soldiers slept. They had not made camp until very late, so she could not wake them so early. The trip had been a long one, and they needed their rest.

There was no hurry. She was not needed in Arthes just yet.

Her beloved husband Ryn awoke and reached out to lay his hand on her belly. That roundness was covered by gold silk. As Queen, she was not only allowed to wear the golden gowns that marked her station, she was required to do so. It was not a ch.o.r.e, as the gowns she had brought with her were cut amply, and many were sleeveless and short, as well, to allow her skin to breathe. She had taken to the Anwyn heat quickly and could no longer endure the binding frocks she had worn all her life.

She had grown large of belly more quickly than she'd imagined was possible, but of course when she conceived this child she had not known that the Anwyn Queen's pregnancies did not last nine months, as human pregnancies did.

In less than two months, Juliet would give birth to the daughter who would one day be Queen of the Anwyn, as her mother was now Queen.

"Full moon tonight," Ryn said as he kissed her shoulder.

"Yes, I know." For the next three nights, the Anwyn would change into wolves when the sun set. It would slow down their journey considerably. It would also be the last time the change came upon them, as they were moving too far away from the mountains and The City that fed their Anwyn magic.

"Isadora needs me," she added. "She's so strong, I've never before sensed that need from her. I don't want to fail her."

"You won't."

She was not so sure. As always, where her sisters were concerned, her visions of the future were cloudy.

As they watched the sun come up, Kei-the father Juliet had not met until recently-joined them.

"I don't care if you are a King," Kei said gruffly, "get your hands off of my daughter."

Ryn was wonderfully good tempered and did not take offense. Besides, he was getting accustomed to his father-in-law's brusqueness. "Not just yet," he responded without anger.

Kei just snorted, and then he sat beside them. "This is not our battle we're going into, Daughter," he said with his usual lack of grace. "The Anywn have no quarrel with the emperor or the rebels. I don't care who sits on the throne of Columbyana, and neither should you."

"We're not going into battle for a throne. We're going for my sisters."

"Half sisters," Kei muttered.

"Sisters," Juliet said precisely.

Kei muttered something she could not understand.

"Did you care for my mother at all?" she asked.

Her father's head snapped around, and he glared at her with eyes almost as golden as her own. Kei was a fierce Anwyn male, a rogue who had left The City to live in the mountains. "Of course I did. She was not my mate, but if I had not cared for her, I never would have laid with her. You know that is not the Anwyn way."

Kei had never told Juliet-or anyone else-that on the night when she was conceived, Lucinda Fyne had cast a spell that made herself look and sound like the mate Kei had lost. She had not tricked him; he knew very well that it was not his mate who lay beneath him. But there had been a comfort there that he'd needed at the time. In a way, Lucinda had saved Kei that night. If not for her gift of sight, Juliet would never know the truth of what had happened.

"Yes, I know it is not the Anwyn way," she said gently. "You have the opportunity now to repay Lucinda Fyne for giving you a child, and to prove that you did care for her, by fighting for her daughters. All of them."

He did not like that contention, but he didn't argue. For now, anyway. As Kei rose he looked at Ryn again and scowled. "Can't you keep your hands off of her for the span of a few heartbeats?"

"I'd rather not," Ryn responded truthfully.

Juliet leaned against her husband and rested her hand over his... and over their child. "We don't have much time," she said as her father walked away. She had seen in a glorious vision that the curse would be ended, and that it would not take Ryn or Kane from the Fyne women who loved them. And yet, all things in the future were susceptible to change. Decisions made, or not made, could alter what was to be.

"Time enough?" Ryn asked.

A sliver of forewarning sliced through Juliet, and her body jerked slightly. "I don't know."

THE WITCH HELD her breath for a long, quiet moment.

Sebestyen leaned closer to Isadora. She looked freshly tumbled, and there was a flush to her cheeks that he had not seen on her before. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What you asked... what you ordered me to do, my lord."

He felt a potent rise of anger within him. "I told you to make yourself available to our guest in whatever

way he chose, not to show him the secret pa.s.sageways of the palace." She herself should not know of

the pa.s.sageways. Only Liane could've instructed her. More secrets shared between the two women. "To give a visiting dignitary a tour of those secret hallways is considered treason, and is certainly cause for severe punishment." Death. Level Thirteen. Imprisonment.

Isadora's cheeks paled. "My lord, you asked me not only to lie with Captain Hern, but to earn his trust and to listen. Was I mistaken?"

"No."

"I cannot earn his trust merely by going to his bed as if I were no better than the concubine you have asked me to be."

Isadora had courage, which could be a very dangerous trait here on Level One. And yet, he did admire her bravery-foolish as it was. "What have you learned thus far?"

Again, she took a moment to consider her answer. "The opportunity for making inquiries which might be of use to you has not arisen. I must gain his trust before I am so bold."

"Surely you can offer me some information that makes your continued existence worthwhile." Isadora Fyne was not like other women. She did not wear her emotions on her face, as many females did. She was stoic, and it bothered Sebestyen that he could not read her innermost thoughts simply by looking at her face. Fear, treachery, happiness, truth. He saw none of these telling expressions.

"I can tell you what I know of his character, my lord," Isadora said. "Captain Hern is an unfailingly honest man. He seems unacquainted with intrigue and deception, preferring the brutal truth of a blade to politics. He strikes me as being a man of his word. If he makes a promise to you, he will not break it."

The report she gave was insufficient, but perhaps all she had to offer, for now.

Isadora still smelled faintly of s.e.x, and Sebestyen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The scent was so arousing, if he were willing to be unfaithful to Liane he'd have Isadora here and now-if he were foolish enough to touch a witch in that way.

He wasn't. And besides, he was faithful. It was an unexpected turn of events, to fall so deeply and completely in love with one's wife.

Apparently Isadora was doing as he had commanded, so he didn't have an excuse to kill her just yet. If Hern was besotted, she might even prove to be useful. "Anything you need in order to accomplish your duties, you need only ask, and it is yours."

Isadora lifted her chin. "Captain Hern wishes to teach me swordplay."

Sebestyen smiled. "Good. That means you have awakened his masculine protective instincts. Perhaps he will even wish to take you with him when he leaves."

"And what would you say if he asked for such permission?"

"I would say no, of course. You're mine, Isadora Fyne, and until I am finished with you, you're not going anywhere."

"Well, you needn't worry." Her voice was firm, but there was worry in her eyes. "This affair with Captain Hern is not a love match, as you well know. It's a political arrangement. It's loveless s.e.x in exchange for the information you desire."

Sebestyen leaned in closer and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply once again. "For all your protests, you liked it, didn't you?"

"That's none of your business," she answered crisply. "My lord," she added belatedly.

Her courage was quickly pa.s.sing over into impertinent territory. He could not allow this witch, this slave, to speak to him as if she were his equal. "Watch your step, Isadora. If the man finds out what you are, he'll kill you in an instant. You've heard him speak of witches. He cares little for your kind."

"I know," she whispered.

He lifted her right hand and studied the ring there. It was a simple piece, but the stone was large. "You wear this all the time now. Do you like it so much?"

"No," she said sharply. "It's stuck on my finger."

He held her hand and studied the ring. "I believe this belongs with the rest of the imperial jewels."

"Liane gave it to me," the witch protested.

"It was not Liane's to give," Sebestyen said as he rubbed his thumb over the stone. "This ring, and the other pieces that match it, once belonged to the favored concubine of the emperor, Iola. My great-grandfather had the jewels set for her, because the blue matched her eyes. Iola always wore this ring. It didn't come off her finger until she died." Sebestyen leaned closer to the witch and lowered his voice. "The emperor had her killed when he discovered that she had betrayed him. His love for her was so great that he could not bear to do the deed himself, but after she was dead he took this ring from her finger and packed it away, along with the necklace and bracelet, and no one wore them for a very long time. My mother had a liking for blue and did not care about the sordid history of the jewels, so she wore them on occasion." He c.o.c.ked his head. "What makes you think you could ever deserve the jewels that once adorned the emperor's favorite concubine... and my mother?"

"I will return the ring to you before I leave the palace, of course."

He smiled at Isadora. Poor, gullible girl, she still thought she might one day leave this place. "Of course you will," he said as he dropped her hand.

UNTIL SHE'D RUN into Emperor Sebestyen this morning, Isadora had been feeling very strong. Stronger than she'd felt in a long time. It was as if the light at her center had grown ten times brighter overnight. Her confrontation with the emperor had sapped that power, but as she sat in the tub of warm water, some of the power began to return. Slowly but certainly, her magic grew.

Isadora soaped her hands well and tried to remove the ring the emperor insisted belonged to him. She had no idea if the tale he'd told her about poor Iola and yet another mad emperor was true or not. She did not sense pain or blood or betrayal in the ring. In fact, it seemed to hold only positive energy. Still, one could never tell. For all she knew, Emperor Sebestyen had spun the sordid story for her benefit, to scare the ring off her finger.

What did Liane see in that terrible man? It was more than power, more than s.e.x. The emperor and empress loved one another, without fail. Love was a strange emotion that didn't always make sense, and it had ruined many a life-including her own.

Even when her hands were wet and soapy, the ring would not budge. It was almost as if... she held her hand out and studied her fingers and the ring... as if magic of some sort held the ring in place. It was not too tight, it did not bind or squeeze her finger. Since her own magic was growing stronger, she concentrated on the ring until she saw nothing else. She took deep breaths and caught in her mind's eye the light and the brightness of her magic. And then she whispered, "Release."

Nothing happened, so she repeated the word in the ancient tongue of the wizards, a language that was almost lost to the world. "Avar."

The single word spoken, she was able to remove the ring with ease. It slipped so easily off her finger, it was hard to imagine that just moments ago it had refused to move.

She placed the ring in the palm of her hand. Now what? The emperor wanted the ring returned to him, and Lucan had expressed an interest in the piece. His interest had been perhaps too strong, now that she thought back on it. The ring wasn't special in any way that she could see. It was pretty, but the stone was not spectacular, and the setting was relatively plain. What did they see in this ring that made them want it?

It was old, that was true, and perhaps there was a history to the piece, but the stone was far from precious. Liane wore more valuable stones each and every day, even when confined to her bed.

The safest place for the ring was likely on her own finger, so she returned it there. Sure enough, it slipped on easily, and then once again refused to slide off.

A year ago she had been living a different life, and she had been a different person. Sophie had given birth to Ariana in the spring a year ago, and the baby's father had been thought gone forever. Juliet had been safe and happy, caring for her sisters and those women who chose to seek her herbal a.s.sistance and advice about the future.

And Isadora had lived one day to the next, not at all concerned that those days did not change. She worked on Fyne Mountain, she protected her sisters, she provided common sense when they could not see for themselves what was best. And she'd mourned. Will's spirit had visited her on occasion, then, and on many nights-cold or not-she had walked away from the cabin to seek his ghostly visitation.

Now Will was gone completely and forever, Juliet and Sophie were far away, their fates unknown to her and to one another, and Isadora was offering protection for the empress and her children, and not only sleeping in another man's bed but reveling in the physical attentions he offered her. Just a year ago, she would have thought all those things impossible.

One thing had not changed. She could not, would not, fall in love with Lucan Hern or anyone else. The Fyne Curse had killed Will before his time. If she were to fall in love with Lucan-which she would not, she insisted to herself, not for the first time-he would not die. He was well past thirty. No, he would not die. Instead he would come to despise her. He would walk away from her and break her heart... not that she had much of a heart left for breaking.

Isadora pushed the men in her life, past and present, out of her mind, and sitting in the tub of quickly cooling water, she closed her eyes and found the spark of magic at her center. Yes, it had certainly grown. The spark was now a flame that burned steady and strong. She was spiraling toward her fate-destruction or protection, she still was not sure which called to her. But it did call, and as she sat in the tub she allowed the strength to grow and claim her, as it always had.

Love and the complications that arose from it were for mortals who did not know magic. Never again would she sacrifice who and what she was, who she was meant to become, for a man and the feelings he aroused. She would grow strong; she would embrace her magic once again.

Soon she would be powerful enough to make her way out of this palace, and no one would be able to stop her. No one.

LUCAN IGNORED THE four guards who had accompanied Isadora to the courtyard. They were alert, well armed, and vigilant. Was the emperor so concerned that something terrible might happen to his wife's cousin? Why else would Isadora rate four of the emperor's best sentinels?

Franco sat on a stool at the edge of the courtyard, looking bored. His sword was nearby, and if it came to a fight he'd be ready. Franco was always ready for a fight. The sentinels thought him to be a valet and paid him little mind.

Lucan gave Isadora his full attention, smiling at her as she acquainted herself with the sword he had chosen for her. It was short-bladed and light, but sharp, and every bit as deadly as his long sword. She hefted it this way and that and studied the swing of the blade as it cut the air before her.

For the exercise she had dressed plainly, and in blue. He liked her in blue, and he liked her hair in that long, simple braid that made her look like an ordinary woman, not an imperial cousin. She seemed more real this way, more attainable, more his, without the trappings of finery that were necessary for someone of her station.

He was a man accustomed to going long periods of time without s.e.x, and yet even after last night and this morning, he wanted Isadora again. She was like a drug that had worked its way into his blood, and he craved her. Maybe Franco could lead the sentinels on a chase, leaving him and Isadora alone in the courtyard so that he could make love to her beneath the sun. He wanted to see her naked in the sunlight, he wanted to watch her face as she shuddered and cried out in fulfillment. Yes, she was like a drug, and he yearned for her. He did not yearn for anything, ever, and yet- "Why are you smiling, Captain?" Isadora asked as she lowered her sword. "Did I do something to amuse you?"