Fyne Sisters - The Star Witch Part 2

Isadora laughed. "Don't be absurd."

"You won't share your exploits with a poor woman who has been confined to bed and ordered not to partake of such pleasures?"

"I have no plans to take a lover, and if I did, it would not be that insufferably overconfident Captain Hern."

"He has large hands," Liane mused.

"That means nothing," Isadora replied. "Besides, he has an obvious distaste for witches."

"Then don't tell him you're a witch. I believe he has already noticed that you are a woman, and when it comes to s.e.x, that's all that matters."

Isadora had closed herself off from her emotions for a long time, and she didn't intend to allow them to rule her now. Maybe the day would come when she'd want to take a lover. Not a husband to take Will's place, not a man to love and lose thanks to the Fyne Curse, but a s.e.xual partner.

Until tonight she had not even considered doing such a thing, and she refused to admit that Lucan Hern's presence had anything to do with the sudden consideration.

"Did you notice the way he moved?" Liane asked. "The man doesn't have a clumsy bone in his body. I suspect he's quite good in bed."

"That doesn't concern me," Isadora insisted, and yet again there was an unwanted response deep inside her body, a response that until this time only Will had elicited.

"I wish only to live vicariously through you." Liane pouted, but her eyes grew hard. "All you have to do is lie with Lucan Hern and share with me the details of the encounter. Will you not do me this one, small favor?"

"You want me to sleep with a stranger for your entertainment?"

"It isn't as if you don't need a man in your life, Isadora," Liane said impatiently. "I have never known a woman who needed to have an o.r.g.a.s.m more than you do."

The fun immediately went out of the conversation. "You go too far, Liane." Not that the empress had ever cared about going too far in any respect.

"I only want what's best for you, Isadora. I would not wish for you the life I led when I first came to this palace, where any powerful man who desired me could have me at the snap of his fingers, but neither do I wish for you a life of celibacy. s.e.x, done properly, is one of the true and simple pleasures of life, for women as well as for men."

The conversation would continue all night if Isadora told the empress that she could not sleep with another man while she still felt bound to her departed husband. They'd had that discussion before and never came anywhere near an agreement.

"I'll think about it," Isadora said as she repositioned the covers once more and smiled down at the pregnant woman on the bed. The emperor would join his wife soon, when his meeting with Captain Hern was over. The two men had adjourned alone to a private chamber near the ballroom after the evening meal was done.

Well, Lucan Hern was alone. Emperor Sebestyen was surrounded by armed guards, as always. These days, Columbyana was not a safe haven for anyone, not even the emperor. Especially not the emperor.

It was testament to how much Sebestyen needed Hern that the captain was not dead. Not yet, anyway.

IF HE DID not need this man, he'd have him killed here and now. Lucan Hern was trouble. What kept the Tryfynian alive was the fact that if they joined forces, he and the rest of his kind would be trouble for Arik and his rebels.

Sebestyen sat back in his chair and studied First Captain Hern. Hern was big and austere and had the build and facial expression of a true warrior. He was the sort of man Sebestyen usually went to great lengths to avoid. Still, every man had a weakness. All he had to do was find Hern's and use it.

Their discussion of war was brief and unsatisfactory. Hern refused to commit himself one way or another, though he did at least listen to Sebestyen's reasoning with proper interest. There had been a time when such a lack of commitment would've led the man to Level Thirteen, but not today. Today, Sebestyen needed the Tryfynian too much. It galled him to need anyone this way.

"During your stay, anything you need or desire is yours," Sebestyen said, calling upon his most cordial voice. "If your quarters are not to your liking, we will find something more suitable."

"My a.s.signed rooms on Level Four are sufficient," Hern answered without emotion.

Sebestyen took a deep, calming breath. Hern's rooms on Level Four were more than sufficient, comprising the finest and most elaborate visitor's chamber in the palace. In long years past, Kings and Queens had resided in that very room, and yet for Hern it was merely sufficient.

"If you give your approval for your brother to marry, we will of course be happy to a.s.sist with the details of the wedding."

"My brother wishes to marry one of your wh.o.r.es," Hern said without anger or derision. "I hardly think an elaborate wedding will be necessary, if I decide to give my approval."

A knot of anger formed in Sebestyen's stomach. Heaven above, he wanted to see this man dead. No offer was good enough, his hospitality was taken for granted, and the man did not fear the emperor before him, as he should. A lift of his hand, a silent signal, and Hern would be dead. Pity he needed the man alive.

"You've traveled a long way," Sebestyen said. "I'm sure female companions.h.i.+p would be welcomed, after such a journey. Do you prefer fair-haired women, as your brother does?"

"Unlike my brother, I do not choose my women based on an attribute so superficial as the color of their hair."

Of course, the blasted Tryfynian had to make things as difficult as possible. "I'll arrange for you to have a tour of Level Three. Any of the women there will be happy to spend the night in your bed, and you are welcome to as many of them as you require."

"No, but thank you for the offer. I'm sure it's well-intentioned."

No? What man turned down the opportunity to browse the emperor's fabled Level Three and choose whomever struck his fancy? Perhaps Lucan Hern, for all his size and apparent manliness, didn't care for women at all.

A spark of something new flashed in Hern's usually impa.s.sive eyes, an unmistakable light of interest that caught Sebestyen's attention. "I'm sure the women on Level Three are fine, beautiful, enjoyable females, but unlike my brother, I am rather discriminating when it comes to the women with whom I share my bed."

Sebestyen lifted his eyebrows slightly. Hern's refusal of the offer of Level Three and the odd reaction that followed was meaningful in some way. The man was not a eunuch, and it was obvious that something-or someone-had caught his attention. The captain's face was not quite so apathetic as it had been all evening.

"If you have special needs, I promise you that nothing you require is out of the realm of possibility." With any luck, Lucan Hern's special needs would be so perverted they'd make for fine blackmail.

"Your wife's cousin, Isadora," Hern said. "Is she married?"

When Liane had first proposed her little outing and the deception involved, Sebestyen had said no. But of course, Liane had gotten her way in the end. She was enormous, unable to engage in s.e.xual relations, overly emotional, demanding, petulant, and given to tears for no good reason. And he could not deny her anything.

"Isadora is a widow, I believe," Sebestyen answered in a calm voice.

"Newly widowed?"

Sebestyen shook his head. He did not know the details, but he had heard Liane and the witch talking, on occasion. They chattered, as women were wont to do, when they did not know he was nearby. "No. Her husband has been gone for several years."

Hern relaxed. "There is no other man in her life at the present time?"

Should he tell Hern that Isadora was a witch? That she was not a cousin, but a servant? A slave, if he were to be completely honest. She'd been captured and brought here against her will, and she did as he commanded. "No," he answered simply. "There is no man in her life."

"Good." Hern placed his hands on his thighs and straightened his already-straight spine. "I want her."

Of all the possibilities... "Surely you would prefer a woman more experienced and genial than my wife's irritable cousin."

"Only Isadora has caught my eye."

"But you have not yet seen the other pleasures this palace has to offer," Sebestyen argued.

Hern leaned slightly forward. "If it meets with your approval, my lord, I would like to make a proposal. We both know that the Circle of Bacwyr would be a great a.s.set to you in your war against the rebels. In fact, it could put an end to the conflict quite quickly. While others among the Circle have been speaking to Arik and his representative, I am First Captain, and I will be the one to make the final decision on with whom we will fight. The Circle will not be divided."

Sebestyen needed this man to make the right decision; his rule, his very life depended on it. "And if I'm hearing you correctly, Isadora in your bed will make the decision for you?"

"A willing Isadora, within the next three days." With that, Hern stood, ending the meeting.

It was Sebestyen's place to call an end to this session. It was his right and his privilege. But instead of bristling at Hern's arrogance, he smiled as he slowly rose to his feet. The Tryfynian could have Isadora, if it meant the support and the swords of the Circle of Bacwyr. But when the war was over and his reign was without opposition, the insufferable man would die.

EACH NIGHT BEFORE bed, Lucan did the exercises that honed his body and his mind. He shed all his clothes in order to remove any obstacles that might come between his body and his spirit and the powers of the universe and performed the hroryk elde, a deep meditation combined with slow, controlled poses of strength and grace. Usually his mind was blessedly clear as he performed the ritual, but tonight Isadora crept into his thoughts.

The ring she wore was certainly the Star of Bacwyr. Zebulyn had told him he would know the power when he saw it, and he had. The Star fed the magic that encircled Isadora. It was the reason his eyes had been drawn to her all evening, the reason she remained strongly and clearly in his mind, even now.

Lucan did not have inborn magic, but the wizards had taught him what they could. He had not been a good student when it came to languages, though they had tried. Spells and incantations disturbed him, and he had never embraced that craft.

But he had learned to see, as the wizards had instructed him. It was more than a warrior's instincts, his ability to discern what was true and what was not. It was a hard-won gift, one that took concentration, meditation, and strength to accomplish. Tonight he had been prepared when he'd walked into the emperor's dining hall, and he had seen an incredible power enveloping the empress's cousin. The Star was power; she possessed the Star; he must possess her.

Esmun was a fool for spreading his seed and his s.e.xual energies with abandon, but then the youngest Hern son had always been a fool. As a child, as a man... Esmun meant well, and he did have his own strengths, but where women were concerned he was without control. There was power in s.e.x when it was properly practiced. Power given and power taken. Energy of a commanding sort was exchanged to strengthen both partic.i.p.ants, if the choice was properly made. Esmun followed his c.o.c.k when it came to choosing his bed partners; Lucan followed his spirit.

It wasn't as if Isadora didn't want him. She might deny it in a foolishly feminine way that was likely meant to make him want her all the more, but she did find him attractive. She wanted to be in his bed as much as he wanted her there.

When the exercises were done, Lucan crawled into the bed in question. He remained naked, as he had been as he'd practiced the hroryk elde, but his weapons were within reach. His door was bolted, and he had experienced no trouble since coming here, but one could not be too careful. In any case, he always slept with his knives close at hand.

His blades would not help him in his current quest. The Star he had come here to collect could not be stolen; Zebulyn had reminded him of that fact many times. It must be freely given in order for the magic to survive and to thrive. In order for Lucan to become the next Prince of Swords, as he was destined to be, Isadora would have to give him the ring off her finger.

He had to be very careful until then. Over the years he had been prepared for this moment in many ways. There was much deception here-and he needed no magic to see that truth for himself.

Beware the witch.

The words echoed through his mind as he fell toward sleep. The woman who had enchanted and killed the last Prince of Swords, so long ago, had been a witch, and he would not forget that fact. Filthy, untrustworthy creatures, witches.

Lucan blew out the candle at his bedside and smiled in the dark. Charming the Star of Bacwyr out of Isadora would be pleasurable enough.

ISADORA QUICKLY REMOVED the gray and blue gown and stored it in the wardrobe in her chamber. Next the jewelry was removed. The necklace first. It was beautiful, but just heavy enough to become c.u.mbersome after several hours around her throat. The bracelet was next. Like the necklace, it chafed her skin, and she was glad to remove the piece and place it in the box the jewels had been stored in for so many years.

When she tried to remove the ring she wore on the middle finger of her right hand, it refused to budge. It didn't seem too tight; it wasn't at all uncomfortable or binding. But try as she might, the ring wouldn't slide off her finger. Maybe something in the meal she'd eaten tonight had made her fingers swell a little bit. Tomorrow would be soon enough to remove the last remaining piece of the set.

She studied the stone, sparkling blue against her pale hand even by faint candlelight. She had never longed for pretty things that were not meant for her, but she did find herself admiring the sight of that ring on her hand. It was... pretty.

But that wasn't the reason she'd accepted Liane's gift. When she got out of the palace, the proceeds from the sale of this jewelry would finance her search for her sisters and maybe even the rebuilding of the cabin on Fyne Mountain.

Isadora stripped down to nothing, donned her night s.h.i.+ft, and then brushed her hair and braided it. Nighttime preparations done, she climbed into bed. Spring was coming, but the nights were still cold. She drew the warm coverlet to her chin. She was so tired, sleep should come quickly. But it did not. Instead, she found herself replaying the conversation over dinner, imagining the way Lucan Hern had looked at her, and experiencing once again that dance deep in her belly. Liane said she needed to feel pleasure once again, that she needed a man. Isadora was insistent that she needed no one and nothing, but in the bed alone on a cold night she couldn't help but wonder if maybe Liane was right.

Maybe the wizard who had cursed the Fyne witches had unknowingly done them all a favor. Love alone could be a curse. Loving Will had certainly changed and weakened Isadora. Even now, long after her husband's death, her love for him made her vulnerable in a way nothing else ever could.

She was so lost in thought her heart almost burst through her chest when the door to her chamber flew open. Mahri, again, was her first thought when her heart resumed beating. The girl refused to knock! Her second thought was that Liane must need her. It was too early for the babies to come. Even another two weeks would make all the difference in their health and chance for survival.

But it wasn't Mahri at all, she saw as the intruder moved toward the bed, and the candle that was carried by the soldier at his side lit one half of his face.

Isadora clenched her fists tight beneath the covers. What was Emperor Sebestyen doing here?

He carelessly drew the covers off her body, commanded her to sit, took the candle from his sentinel, and ordered the armed man from the room. Again, Isadora's heart beat too fast and hard. As far as she knew, the emperor had been unfailingly faithful to his wife, in the past couple of months, at least. If he had changed his mind about his fidelity, there was an entire Level of willing women for him to choose from. Like Lucan Hern, he did not care for witches and witchcraft. Why was he here, looking up and down her body as if judging her in a purely male and s.e.xual way?

"You're pretty enough, I guess," he said when they were alone and the door had been closed behind the sentinel.

Isadora stood so she'd be in a better position to fight if she had to. "Pretty enough for what, my lord?" She didn't care who this man was, she wasn't going to allow him to touch her.

But he didn't touch her. He stared insolently, but he did not touch.

"My wife cares for you," he said almost distantly, as if he didn't know what it felt like to care for a friend. "I'm not sure why, but she does. However, the needs of a country outweigh the reluctance of one woman."

"What sort of reluctance?" Isadora asked in a soft voice.

Emperor Sebestyen looked her in the eye, and she saw in him the violence and depravity and arrogance she had heard so much about. But she also saw something unexpected: love. He did love his wife.

"Captain Hern wants you in his bed, and what Hern wants he will have."

She blinked fast, and her knees weakened. "You can't be serious."

"If you think I would come to your room in the middle of the night to play a joke on you, you're mistaken," he said coldly. "The outcome of the war is at stake. Please Hern, do as he asks, and he will join my imperial forces and the war will soon be over. Think of the lives you'll save, simply by bringing the war to a speedy end."

Isadora tried to force her knees to be strong and steady, but they wanted to wobble. She hated that indication of weakness; there was no time for weakness in this place. "That's a nice argument, but somehow I don't imagine bringing the Circle of Bacwyr into Columbyana will save lives."

The emperor smiled. "Perhaps not, but it might save your life."

"Are you threatening me, my lord?"

"Not yet. If threats becomes necessary, I will gladly use them."

The emperor stared at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, which were barely covered by the thin fabric of her worn nightgown. In defense, Isadora crossed her arms over her chest. "What if I refuse?"

The emperor sighed. "If you say no to Hern's attentions, then the Circle will join the rebels, and they will likely win this war. The rebel forces are growing; that is what I hear. Some of my soldiers have deserted to join them. Common men who should care nothing for who rules have joined them. Arik's forces are stronger than they have ever been before, but they are not quite strong enough. An allegiance with the Circle of Bacwyr will elevate them to the strength they need to defeat me. They'll storm the castle and kill me, and my wife, and my son."

"The rebels would not kill a child!"

"He is to be heir to the throne, and therefore he is a threat to Arik's supposed right to rule. They will most certainly kill him. And you, I imagine. All the sentinels you have come to know, Mahri, Gadhra. I imagine they might let the concubines live, since they will be of some use, but everyone else in the palace will surely die. Is the sanct.i.ty of your celibate body more precious than all those lives?"

"It isn't that-"

"Would you allow my wife and child to die in order to maintain your virtue?"

"Offer him another woman," she said hotly.

"I offered him any woman in the palace. He wants you!"

For a moment, Isadora stared into the emperor's eyes, unable to believe what he was telling her.