Fyne Sisters - The Star Witch Part 6

He wanted Isadora ready for him in all ways, and she would be. Eventually. How long was he willing to wait? They did not have much time here. He needed to accomplish his goals as quickly as possible, so the Circle could reclaim their rightful place and Tryfyn could grow strong again.

The needs of one man, or of one woman, were trivial in comparison.

EVEN THOUGH IT was still early in the morning, Isadora was awake when the door to her chamber creaked slowly open. For a moment she held her breath, wondering if Lucan Hern would be so bold.

But of course it was Mahri, who had once again forgotten to knock. Isadora sat up and glared at the skittish maid.

"I thought you might still be asleep," Mahri whispered. The girl was loaded down with clothing. The gowns she carried were elegant, like the ones Isadora had worn in her guise of the empress's cousin. But there were so many of them, and they were constructed of all sorts of fabric and colors. For a woman who had dressed herself in plain black for so many years, those colors were almost frightening.

"I've been awake for a while," Isadora said as Mahri deposited the armload of fine fabrics on the padded chair that sat in the corner of the room.

But not very long, to be honest. When she'd crawled into her own bed after returning from Hern's rooms, she'd expected a sleepless night. Her body trembled with release and anger and surprise long after the man's hands had ceased touching her. How dare he? How dare she?

Angry or not, she'd very soon fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep. She hadn't slept so well in years.

Mahri came to Isadora's bed and smiled in that completely innocent and guileless way she had. "I hear Captain Hern was very well pleased."

News did travel fast in this d.a.m.ned place. "Did you?"

"Yes. Apparently he is quite taken with you."

Isadora threw off the coverlet and sat. "Captain Hern is quite taken with the empress's cousin, a woman who does not exist." A homeless witch without a decent dress or a single silver coin to her name would likely not please him near as much.

Mahri sat on the side of the bed and lifted her feet off the floor in a girlish fas.h.i.+on. "An order has been issued that no one is to tell Captain Hern that you are not a part of the royal family. The emperor issued the command himself, and no one wants to displease him." The girl shuddered. "Emperor Sebestyen scares me. I would not wish to be the one to displease him."

"Of course the emperor scares you," Isadora said. Anyone in the palace who cared for their hide was scared of their unpredictable ruler. "What if the captain's own brother, Esmun, tells him that I am not the woman he believes me to be? They don't spend a lot of time in one another's company, but surely they speak."

"This was discussed, and the emperor even suggested that Esmun could... disappear, if necessary."

Isadora scoffed. The emperor knew no boundaries!

"But it was finally decided that Esmun Hern does not know enough about you to ruin the story. He only knows that you serve the empress, that you care for her and are her companion. Those are acceptable duties for a cousin. Most of the palace servants don't even know you're a witch. You don't stay on Level Seven, like the other witches, and it isn't as if the empress and emperor discuss such matters with those who serve them. Those few who do know, some of the sentinels and ministers, will be warned not to share the secret. You have no need to worry."

It was odd for Mahri to be so friendly, to sit on the side of the bed beside Isadora and converse. They had come to a truce of sorts, and Mahri was no longer afraid of the witch. But in truth they had very little in common. They were both female, and they both served Empress Liane; beyond that, they were as different as night and day.

"What's it like?" Mahri asked, her gaze flitting shyly to the window that looked out on a chilly, gray day.

"What is what like?"

"To be with a man... that way. I have heard that it can be wonderful, but I have also heard that it can be terrible. Which is the truth?"

She should not be surprised that the girl was a virgin. Mahri's life and position here were sheltered, and she did not have an outgoing personality. While her face was pretty enough, it was not extraordinary in any way. She would not draw many admiring glances of the men in the castle.

"Both can be true," Isadora said gently. "It depends upon the man and the situation."

Mahri cast a shy smile Isadora's way. "Which applies to Captain Hern?"

Anything she told the maid would likely find its way through the palace, probably within the hour. Isadora was tempted to tell Mahri that Hern was an inadequate lover with an unusually small male appendage, but she was wise enough to know that tale would come back to bite her. She and her lover had reached an agreement, and she suspected Lucan Hern was a man who abided by his word. He would not force himself on her... though if he touched her again as he had last night, she would very likely force herself upon him.

No, last night her body had responded with intensity because it had been neglected for so long. Tonight, and all the nights to come, would be different. She did not want Lucan Hern, she did not need him or anything he had to offer.

"He was more than adequate," she said in a calm, mysterious voice.

Mahri sighed and clasped her hands in her lap. "Do you love him?"

"Of course not!" Isadora stood quickly.

"I should not have asked," Mahri said as she, too, left the bed. "It just seems very romantic to have a man command you to his bed because he wants you above all others."

Romantic? No. Demanding, insufferable, and egotistical. But never romantic.

"His valet is quite handsome," Mahri said too casually. "Have you met Franco? We ran into one another at the laundry yesterday, and he was very friendly."

"I have not met Franco, but if I am to offer you womanly advice, it would be to beware of handsome and friendly men." Isadora opened her wardrobe and touched the dark blue everyday gown she wore so often. There was a brown and a gray fas.h.i.+oned much like it, simple, ordinary frocks that suited her life in this place. Hern liked her in blue. She reached past the gown she had intended to wear and grabbed the brown.

"No!" Mahri s.n.a.t.c.hed the plain dress from her hand. "I have brought you several new, pretty things to wear. Empress Liane insists that as long as Captain Hern is residing in the palace, you are to be her cousin."

DRESSED IN A spring green gown that was much too fancy for her tastes, Isadora placed her hands over the empress's belly and closed her eyes. Her powers seemed to have grown stronger overnight. She did not have Juliet's gift for divining the future, but this morning she saw many things as she touched Liane and her children.

"They are healthy," Isadora said. "Small, but well-formed and strong."

"He," the empress said in a lowered voice. "Not they. You don't know who might be listening."

Eventually everyone would know that Liane and Sebestyen had created twin boys, but the empress was determined to keep that news to herself, for now. The emperor would be furious, unless they could convince him that they had not known. That was unlikely.

How angry would the emperor be? Mahri was right to be afraid of the man. If Isadora allowed herself to be afraid of anyone, Emperor Sebestyen would be at the top of her list.

There had been a time when she'd had the power to cast a protection spell strong enough to keep men and danger and war away from Fyne Mountain. That spell had been broken, eventually, but it had held strong for many years. Did she have enough power to cast a protection spell over Liane and her sons now? Was the return of power she felt enough? Not yet, she suspected.

When Isadora stepped away from the bed, Liane asked, "All is truly well?"

"Very much so, yes," Isadora said.

The empress sat, with Isadora's help, and as she settled into her mountain of pillows, she smiled. "Tell me all about Captain Hern."

The heat in her cheeks might be a blush. She never blushed! "That is a private matter, my lady."

"He said you were magnificent."

"Yes, I know."

"And yet you cannot utter even one word of compliment for him?"

"I was offered to Captain Hern with no more consideration than a welcoming gift of wine and fruit, with no regard for my own wishes, and you want me to compliment him?"

"You're much too sensitive about such matters, Isadora. In the past I was offered to many men with no regard for my own wishes, but that doesn't mean I was fool enough not to enjoy myself when I was lucky enough to land in the bed of a real man."

Isadora c.o.c.ked her head and studied Liane. "You made the best of the situation in which you were thrown. You even embraced your situation, and the outcome was right, for you. You have said many times that you and I are alike, my lady, and in many ways that may be true. But I have never been one to easily accept what fate throws at me, when what comes is not of my choosing."

"You should," Liane responded, not taking offense at anything Isadora said. "There is a time to fight, but there is also a time to accept." She grinned. "You look beautiful in the green gown. Some of the dresses Mahri delivered to your quarters once belonged to Sebestyen's sisters, but a few were once my own."

"I a.s.sumed as much." Liane's discarded gowns would be the ones crafted of sheer fabric, or that sported a neckline cut to the navel. It had been very easy to discern which of the frocks had been made for the emperor's concubine, and which had been made for his more proper sisters.

She would go to Hern naked before she'd wear those seductive gowns.

The spring green gown fit relatively well, which was why she'd chosen to wear it today. Many of the others needed to be altered. She was not a talented seamstress like Sophie, but she could take a tuck here and there and lower a hem.

"Perhaps you are too shy to share details about your love life, but I can see that Captain Hern pleased you."

"You cannot see-" Isadora began.

"I can," Liane interrupted. "Your eyes are livelier than usual this morning, and your cheeks still display the flush of love."

"If my looks are improved this morning, it is because I slept unusually well."

Liane's smile widened. "I imagine you did."

Isadora turned to leave Liane. She had lots of mending and alterations to deal with, a ch.o.r.e that could be accomplished in the privacy of her room.

Before she reached the door, Liane called, "He wishes to see you this afternoon."

"What?" she spun. "I'm to go to his chambers tonight, but-"

"Apparently he wishes to woo you properly. You should be flattered."

"I'll have Mahri send the message that I'm too busy to be wooed," Isadora said sharply.

"You will go," Liane said, her voice sharper, less friendly than before. "Sebestyen wishes for you to befriend Lucan Hern and to listen. In the flush of his infatuation he might say something that we need to know."

"You wish me to spy, I know. Is tonight not soon enough? I have mending and alterations to see to today."

"We have seamstresses to see to the alterations, Isadora. Your job is to keep an eye on Hern." The empress lifted a pale, slender hand. "Seduce him, Isadora, night after night after night. Enjoy. Listen.

Remember. Last night you left his room quite early, I hear. Eventually you will want to spend the night in his bed. Some men talk in their sleep, and-"

"I have no desire to sleep at Lucan Hern's side."

Liane's features hardened. Pregnant and all but helpless or not, she could be a fierce and formidable woman. "I told you months ago that I did not know how long I could keep you alive. I did my part. Now it's your turn."

LUCAN FOLLOWED BEHIND an infuriated Isadora as she stalked down the wide corridor of Level Eight. Her pale green gown looked perfectly suited to a cold day-not that she was at all cool-and the skirts of that gown swished with the full force of her swagger. His eyes fell to her backside, which was too well hidden in the folds of fabric. He knew that backside to be firm and shapely, and he wished to see it again. Now.

The palace artists and entertainers lived and worked here on this Level, and several rooms of paintings and sculpture had been put on display for palace residents and guests. When he'd invited Isadora to join him for a tour of this Level, he had not expected such a violent response. Of course, he should have.

"It is perfectly reasonable for a man to ask permission to call upon his mistress, even in the middle of the day."

"I feel quite certain you have never asked permission to do anything," she responded hotly. "You demand, you push, and you take."

In two long strides, he had caught up with her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around. There were residents of this Level in the corridor, all of them briskly on their way somewhere else, but they very blatantly ignored the scene.

"I did not take last night," he said in a soft but stern voice.

She looked him in the eye, strong and unafraid. He had never before known a woman who was so incredibly unafraid. "Didn't you?" she whispered.

In that instant, he saw something besides Isadora's strength. Something he'd rather not see. Whether it was a touch of the wizards' magic or simple instinct that struck him with the knowledge, he couldn't be sure, but as he looked into her eyes he knew.

"You are still in love with your husband."

Isadora was so fearless, he was unprepared for the tears that sprang to her eyes. "You don't have the right to speak of him."

He raked a thumb across her soft cheek. "I understand he's been gone for several years. Is that not correct?"

"I told you, you have no right-"

"It's you who concerns me, Isadora. Not him."

Her lips thinned, and she was trying so very hard not to cry. "He's been gone more than six years."

"And how many lovers have you taken since his death?" He knew the answer before Isadora spoke, and it pained him more deeply than it should.

"None," she whispered. The tears that had threatened were gone, forced away by a strong will and an even stronger heart. "I had planned to live the rest of my life faithful to him, but you had other plans for me, didn't you?"

"If I had known-"

"You didn't ask, so you could not possibly have known," she snapped. "You have no concern for anyone's feelings but your own. You want, you need, you desire... Nothing else matters in your world."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was an undemanding and almost friendly kiss. "If you had pa.s.sed into the land of the dead first, and your husband was fated to live many years without you, would you have wanted him to live the rest of his days without a woman in his life?"

Isadora twitched, startled by the question. "That's not... it's different. And I told you, you have no right to talk about w.i.l.l.ym."

w.i.l.l.ym. A strong, common name, spoken with pa.s.sion. "Fine. I will say one thing, and then we will not discuss him again." He dipped down and placed his mouth near her ear. "If your w.i.l.l.ym loved you, he would not want you to live the rest of your days without touch, without pleasure, without affection."

"Perhaps not," she conceded, her voice as low as his and just as bold. "But I doubt he would want me to partake of those precious things with a man I do not even like."

Lucan drew away a little, so he could see her face well to discern if she was teasing or not. She was not. Women always liked him. Not that he'd had many dealings with females in his position in the Circle, but there were strong and beautiful women available for s.e.xual relations, and there were cooks and seamstresses and maids. They all liked him.

But he had never had anyone like Isadora in his life.

In spite of her strength and her stubbornness and her beauty, she was a woman like all others, and before he left this place she would like him, very well.

He took her right hand and raised it, kissed the knuckles gently, and touched the ring... the Star of Bacwyr. "You always wear this stunning ring. Does it have some significance to you? Was it a gift from someone special?" From her husband, perhaps, who might not have been so ordinary after all?

She yanked her hand from his grasp. "The ring was a gift from Empress Liane, and I wear it always because it's stuck on my finger."

It was not the answer he had expected from her. He blinked quickly. "Stuck?"

She wiggled her fingers at him. "Stuck. I've tried soap, lotions, and sheer muscle, and the ring refuses to budge."

"It's a very interesting and different piece."