Fyne Sisters - The Star Witch Part 7

Isadora scoffed at his admiration. "I'm so glad you like it. If you can get the blasted thing off without cutting off my finger, you can have it."

Just like that, so very easily and nonchalantly, the ring was offered to him. The ring and all that came with it. Power. Responsibility. The position of Prince of Swords. He grasped the ring and tugged, and sure enough it was stubbornly wedged on Isadora's slender finger. It did not move, but neither did it fit her finger so tightly it was binding. He would think the circ.u.mstance odd if he did not see the magic around the ring and the woman who wore it.

After a moment, he gave up the task. The Star of Bacwyr was not going to slip into his hand here and now, that much was clear. "Tonight, we will try again," he said as he took Isadora's arm and led her toward the room where a number of paintings of the Beckyt family, past and present, were on display.

THEY GREW NEARER the capital city of Arthes and the battles to come, but they moved too slowly. Sophie was anxious. The answers to her questions about Juliet and Isadora awaited in that city, and yet it seemed that everything and everyone hindered their progress as they made their way there.

The rebels grew more and stronger with every pa.s.sing day, and she understood that until Arik believed with all his heart that his army could take the palace, they would not move in that direction. She had been trying to convince him that a spring attack would be better than the summer siege he estimated. Her own powers would be much stronger before the new baby's birth. After that... she would still possess magic, but it would not be so powerful. She wanted to have every advantage when Kane went into the palace, as she was certain he would.

Sophie had almost given up on trying to end the curse that would take Kane's life by the end of summer. She'd tried, again and again, but she could not do it on her own; she knew that without a doubt. Juliet and Isadora would be necessary... if the curse could be broken at all. Some days, she wondered if she was kidding herself in believing that was possible.

This afternoon, she and Kane sat in Arik's tent, along with several of the leaders of the revolution. They were soldiers all, like her husband, but she did not sense goodness in each and every one of them, as she did in Kane. Some were ambitious, some bitter, some n.o.ble.

All of them were anxious to see this revolution done. Sebestyen would be ousted, and Arik would take his place. Then, maybe, she and her family would know peace once again.

Myls, a soldier who had been with Arik from the beginning, had recently rejoined the leader of the revolution-and their next emperor. He spoke in a solemn voice. "A highly placed representative of the Circle of Bacwyr is living in the imperial palace at this very moment. The First Captain," he added solemnly. "Lucan Hern."

"The warriors I met with have all but promised to support my cause," Arik argued.

"But they have not pledged you anything, have they?" Myls argued. "The Circle will not divide its warriors. They will take one side or another-the First Captain will choose-and when that is done, the battle will be decided."

"They might decide not to choose a side at all," Sophie said.

All the men looked at her. Many of them did not like allowing a woman to have such a high place among them. Others respected who she was and what she could do.

Myls did not like her very much.

"We will know soon enough."

"How?" she asked, when no one else would. "How will we know when the decision is made?"

Myls grinned at her. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile, and he did not do it well. "I have a spy in the palace."

ISADORA ALMOST EXPECTED to find Hern naked, waiting impatiently for her in his bed, when she was once again escorted to his room. Not that she would mind seeing him naked again, if she were to be completely honest with herself. No man could be as flawless as she remembered; no man could be built so perfectly. Lucan Hern was most definitely not perfect.

Tonight she had not even been served supper before the sentinels arrived at her small room to escort her to Level Four. As if it wasn't difficult enough to face the infuriating man, now she had to do so on an empty stomach. Mahri had been there to help Isadora dress in something more fitting for the evening, though she'd refused the initial offer of one of Liane's castoffs. The simply cut pale gray gown she'd decided upon had a low neckline to which Isadora was not accustomed, but at least it didn't plunge past the valley of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as many of Liane's frocks did. As it was, she kept tugging on the neckline, hoping to make it more suitable. Her efforts did not help matters at all. Isadora did not have Liane's curves, but she didn't care for displaying what little she did have... especially where Captain Hern was concerned.

As she made the too-short trip from her room to Hern's, Isadora resolved not to respond to his touch in any way. She would not cry and beg him not to touch her, but neither would she allow herself to enjoy what he offered. No matter what that might be.

Again tonight, he seemed to know she was approaching before the sentinel knocked on his door. It opened almost immediately. In spite of her musings, he was not naked, but once again wore one of his purple robes. He took her hand and drew her into the room, and the guards took up their stations outside the door, where they would remain until Captain Hern was finished with her.

Because she was hungry, she immediately noted the aroma that filled the room. Not incense or scented candles or oils, not tonight. Tonight, she smelled food.

"I thought we might dine together." Hern took her arm and led her to the table for two that had been placed just a few feet from the end of the bed. Matching chairs faced one another, and the small table was laden with an abundance of food. Her stomach growled. So much for not enjoying anything he offered.

Even though he once again wore the purple robe, he did not insist that she change clothes, as he had last night. He held a chair out for her, and she sat. He sat across the table from her and poured them both a gla.s.s of wine.

Hungry as she was, Isadora studied the meal with suspicion. "Is it drugged?"

"No."

She looked him squarely in the eye. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I do not lie."

"A man who does not lie." Isadora grinned. "I did not think such a creature existed."

He did not take offense. "I might not always tell you everything that's in my mind, but I will never lie. Honesty is one of the teachings of the Circle of Bacwyr. It is expected of all warriors." He lifted his own gla.s.s of wine. "What of you, Isadora?"

She lifted her own gla.s.s. "Deception is sometimes necessary in order to survive."

"Deception is never necessary; it is just often easier than the truth."

"I've never been one for taking the easy way out, but neither do I purposely choose the most difficult path."

His grin was startling, the dimple in his manly cheek oddly appealing. "Most women would've simply agreed with me that honesty is always best."

"And in doing so, they'd be telling you the first of many falsehoods."

"So you do tell the truth?"

"When it suits me."

It was unlikely that he would poison her, not when he was so obviously doing his best to impress. She ate, and so did he. She waited for the effects of some sort of potion-something to arouse or befuddle-but she remained clear-headed and determined not to enjoy anything this man had planned for her tonight. Except the fine meal, of course.

His manservant arrived to clear away the remains of the meal. Franco never looked at her, not directly, but if she was not mistaken, he did study her out of the corner of his eye in the brief time he was in the room. Mahri found the young servant handsome and charming, but to Isadora he was just another man. If he toyed with Mahri, she would... Isadora glanced away from the servant. She'd do what? Kill him? She couldn't do that, not unless she decided to embrace the dark side of her powers and leave the light behind. All she could do was warn Mahri that love was a curse for every woman, not just the Fyne witches, and she must always proceed with caution where the opposite s.e.x was concerned.

She was quite sure the naive Mahri did not know caution, especially not where matters of the heart-or of the body-were concerned.

After Franco departed, Isadora straightened her spine and waited for Hern's command. She didn't have long to wait.

"Sit," he said, leading her to a short sofa that was placed against one wall. Since it was a harmless command, she did as he asked. Of course, he sat beside her, and one long arm draped over her shoulder. Isadora stiffened, determined not to encourage him in any way. She did not want to enjoy any of this, but she did like the feel of his heavy arm across her shoulder and his warm body next to hers. There was a tightening response low in her belly, and she closed her eyes and did her best to chase it away.

He lifted her right hand, studied the ring on her middle finger, and then without warning slipped the tip of that finger into his mouth. That action did nothing to ease her discomfort, especially when he drew in his breath and tenderly sucked. Her heart lurched and her knees trembled, but she did not yank her hand away, as she could have. Hern eventually extracted her finger from his warm mouth. He kissed his way down the finger, kissed the base where her finger joined palm, and then he very gently tried to slip the ring off. As always, it remained solidly and steadfastly in place.

The failed attempt to remove the ring ended with a kiss on her palm, and Hern released her hand.

"Do you have any family other than the empress?" he asked, his tone conversational.

"What?"

"Family. Brothers, sisters, parents, children..."

"I know what family is," she snapped. "I'm just not sure why you asked such a personal question."

"I'm curious," he said.

Conversation was not something she had prepared herself for this evening. "I have two sisters," she said

tersely.

"Are you close to them?"

Her heart reacted to the question with a lurch. "I once was. Lately, circ.u.mstances have torn us apart."

"Where are they now?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

The hand in her hair was comforting and friendly, nothing more.

"What about you?" she asked, anxious to change the subject. "Do you have family other than your

brother Esmun?"

"Parents, both living and healthy, two other brothers, and three sisters, all younger than I. There are a fewnieces and nephews, as well.""Are you close to them?""No. I went to the Circle when I was six years old, and-""Six?" Isadora leaned forward slightly. "Your parents sent you away when you were six? That's not right." If she had given birth to Will's child, she would never have sent her away. Sophie would certainly never allow Ariana to be given to strangers to be raised. It didn't seem at all natural to send one's child away from home at such a young age.

Hern gently pulled her back against the sofa and his arm. "There is no need to be indignant on my behalf."

"I'm not indignant on your behalf," Isadora said harshly.

"My parents did not send me away," he explained. "I was chosen, as all Circle warriors are chosen."

"Chosen how?" She should not be curious, but she was.

"By wizards and warriors and instructors. They visit each of the clans every two years or so and choose those boys who are destined to be Circle warriors and wizards."

"At the age of six, they took you from your family in order to make you a soldier," she said, horrified.

"The Circle became my family," he countered.

"No wonder you and your brother Esmun are not close." She found herself growing comfortable so close

to Hern. His arm cradled her, and she could not make herself pull away. "You barely know one another."

"I was allowed to visit my family every year." He sounded as if he believed that sufficient.

"I have been apart from my sisters for a few months, and it feels like a lifetime. I can't imagine only seeing them once a year." She didn't allow herself to think overly often on how desperately she missed her sisters. She did not believe that Juliet was dead, no matter what Bors had told the emperor, and she knew Sophie's Kane would protect her with his life.

But she also knew, deep inside, that nothing would ever be as it had once been, no matter how she wished it to be so. She was facing a life of loneliness, something she had never imagined for herself.

"Why are you wasting your time talking to me?" she asked sharply.

"I don't feel that talking to you is a waste of my time."

"You know what I mean, Captain Hern."

He pulled her slightly closer, so that she was caught up tightly against his side.

"I would like for you to call me Lucan."

"Why?"

"It is my name, Isadora."

She already felt too close to this man. Anything more familiar would not be a good thing. Not for her. "I prefer to call you Captain Hern. It helps to remind me why I'm here."

"Why are you so difficult? I only want you to like me."

"All the conversation in the world won't make that wish come true," she responded.

"Really." He did not sound at all convinced.

"Just because you feed me and talk to me, that doesn't change the fact that I was ordered to be here."

"An insignificant detail," he said.

"Insignificant for you, perhaps, but not for me."

"Last night you did not seem to mind being here."

"This is not last night," she responded in a stern voice.

"Perhaps it will be even better."

"Unlikely."

"You might not believe it to be possible, but what is to be between us can be even more pleasurable