22 Nights (39 page)

Merin remained calm. “I don’t understand your concerns, Minister. There are other candidates more suitable . . .”

“There are not!” The minister lifted his head to glare at Merin. “You have no idea what has been happening here since you left, General. The emperor is livid. I have never seen him in such a state! He reminds me more than a little bit of his father, these days. I never thought I would see this, not in him.”

“Tell me,” Merin instructed, in a voice that left no room for argument.

Still sitting, Calvyno spoke, his voice quick. “Princess Edlyn was murdered, and for a time it was believed that Prince Alix took her life.”

“No,” Merin said softly. “He would not.”

“No, of course not. Prince Alix was here in the palace a short time ago, and while here he was married.” He took a deep breath. “His wife spends most of her time . . . blue.” He pondered this curious statement for a moment.

“What of the others?” Merin prompted, no doubt thinking of the attempt on Bela’s life. Perhaps the demon-child had truly not had a hand in the assassination attempt on Forbidden Mountain.

“Lady Verity survived an attack and made it here safely, only to decline the emperor’s offer and make off with a sentinel.” He shook his head. “Shocking. Lady Morgana refused . . .
refused
. . . to so much as present herself to the emperor. Her stepfather is mortified by her outrageous actions. I hear he threw her out of the house with nothing but the clothes on her back. I can’t say that I blame him.”

Bela snorted. “A woman should be allowed to . . .”

Calvyno lifted his head and glared at her, and she decided to end her protest there, for Merin’s sake more than her own.

The Minister continued. “Just a few days ago, what remains of Lady Leyla Hagan’s party was discovered, ravaged, all there dead.”

“There should be one more bride,” Merin said.

Calvyno straightened his spine. “Yes, there is. Lady Danya has been residing in the palace for some weeks now. She’s quite anxious to be empress. It looks as if she will get her wish when the emperor lines up what should be six potential brides and finds himself with one. He doesn’t even like her much.”

“Someone tried to kill Bela,” Merin said solemnly. “Before he died, the man who made the attempt said he’d been hired by Lady Rikka.”

Calvyno’s eyes brightened for a moment. “Lady Rikka! Yes, I suppose she would have reason to see the emperor and his brother unhappy, but to kill so many blameless women . . . it is not at all logical. Why would she go to such lengths? ”

“What about the one candidate who remains?” Merin asked. “Was an attempt made on her life?”

“No, but she arrived here much earlier than was necessary. Perhaps Lady Danya was safely in the palace before former Empress Rikka could make her plans.”

Bela thought that perhaps Lady Danya had a hand in it all, though killing the competition, with the help of an old, embittered empress, wasn’t exactly a subtle way to get what she wanted. She kept her opinions to herself, for now.

There was a brief knock on the door, and then it flew open and an older sentinel stuck his head inside. “Minister Calvyno, there is a young couple here who claim they must speak to General Merin immediately. It is a matter of life and death, they say.”

Calvyno waved his hand dismissively. “Send them away. We have more important matters to attend to.”

“But the man says he is General Merin’s brother.”

“Savyn?” Merin asked, stunned.

“That is the name he gave, General. Savyn Leone and his wife, Leyla.”

Calvyno paled again. Bela was certain that if he lost any more color, he would disappear entirely. “What are the odds that
this
Leyla . . .” the old man said, his words drifting off to nothing, much as his color had.

Merin took Bela’s arm, and together they headed for the door. Minister Calvyno looked as if he might remain in his chair for a while longer, but with a burst of energy he pushed himself up and followed in their footsteps.

“If this is the correct Leyla, and she is indeed married to your brother, I have to see it with my own eyes,” he mumbled. “Where does a former Minister of Foreign Affairs search for new employment, I wonder.”

Merin gave into a small smile and squeezed Bela’s arm possessively. “We’ll meet with the emperor shortly, love. It’s shaping up to be quite a memorable evening. But first, let’s go meet my little brother and his wife.”

Bela had lived in the shadow of magic all her life. She had touched enchantment, she had bathed in it . . . she had found a love she’d thought impossible. Was it a coincidence that Merin’s long-lost brother was here, now, on this very night? No, she knew too much of magic to believe in coincidence. Tearlach Merin was now surrounded by his family, as was right and proper. This strange palace was home, for now, and it would be a good home for as long as they were meant to be here.

She could not help but smile. She and the child she carried were a very large part of that family. They were his home. “Let’s,” she whispered.

Turn the page for a preview of the next romance
from Linda Winstead Jones

Coming March 2009
from Berkley Sensation!

WHEN
he had dismissed the last of his advisors, Jahn gave a tired sigh and sat heavily in the padded crimson chair which dominated one corner of his spacious and ornate bed chamber. There were times when he found peace in this private room he called his own. The bed was large and comfortable; the furnishings were finer than anything he had known before coming to Arthes; there was a fire whenever he wanted or needed one; and there was no skimping when it came to the scented oils which burned here and there, lighting the dimmer corners and adding a sweet scent to the air. Here there were no demands made of him. Those demanding moments took place in the ball-room or his suite of offices. This chamber, decorated in imperial crimson and made as comfortable as any man could wish for, was meant for pleasure and rest and peace.

But tonight Jahn could find no peace. What had he done? In a fit of pique he had set in motion a ridiculous contest which would end in his inevitable and unwelcome marriage. Perhaps he would have a bit of fun along the way, as he watched those around him scramble to make this concept work, but would it be worth the trouble? He could just as easily have instructed any one of his ministers to choose a bride for him. They all had very strong ideas about which woman would make the best empress. Every woman suggested was talented or intelligent or beautiful or came from a fine bloodline which would strengthen his ties with a country or a tribe. It wasn’t as if love or physical attraction would play any part in his decision, no matter how the game was played.

Being emperor had its advantages, and he was not ignorant of them. His word was law. Literally. If he wanted something, anything, all he had to do was ask and it was delivered to him. Loose women, his favorite type, cared only for pleasing him. He had his own army at his command. His days of indulging in physical labor and answering the command of another were over.

And yet he could not have the simple luxury of falling in love before marriage. He could not choose to remain unwed, even if such a lifestyle suited him. This extraordinary palace was often more of a prison than a home, and there were days when he could almost feel the walls closing in on him, as they did now. Marriage and fatherhood would only imprison him more surely.

He was trapped.

Still sitting, Jahn began to unfasten his long, cumbersome robe. He was damned tired of crimson, especially on this night when he had set the wheels of change in motion. One word and the sentinels who were positioned outside his door would fetch one or two of Jahn’s favorite ladies, and they would make him forget that he was as much a prisoner as a ruler. They would make him forget everything. Melusina, perhaps, or Anrid. Just the thought of them made him grin. Melusina had a wonderful laugh that always made him smile, and Anrid possessed large, white breasts so soft he could happily fondle them for hours.

Once he was married, he would give them up—he supposed. He
could
keep all the women he desired. He
could
continue to live as if he were not a husband, as if he had no bonds, no boundaries. His marriage could, if he so chose, be approached as if it were for nothing more than politics and for the sake of producing a child, and once the empress caught a babe, he could banish her to some remote corner of the palace, bringing her out for holidays and social affairs and such, while he resumed his lascivious lifestyle.

But he would not. Jahn was determined that he would not become his father. No matter what his weaknesses might be, he was a good ruler who put the needs of the people first, always. He had not been trained all his life for this position; he had not been born and bred with politics in his mind and his heart. But he knew how to make people like him when it was necessary, and he was good at surrounding himself with capable people who did their jobs well and in the process made him look as if
he
were capable.

And unlike his father, once he was wed, he would be faithful—even if it killed him.

Knowing his carefree days were numbered, Jahn found the energy to leap from his chair and rush to the door, the blasted crimson robe halfway undone. He opened that door swiftly to reveal four sentinels whose duty was to keep their emperor safe. Jahn’s eyes fell on Blane, a quiet and sensible and slightly rotund man who had been with him from the beginning.

“Melusina,” he said sharply.

Blane nodded once and turned away.

“And Anrid,” Jahn called after him. If his days were numbered, he might as well enjoy them all to the utmost.

 

LADY
Morgana Ramsden had crept from her soft bed, escaped through her bedchamber window, and walked a relatively short distance from her fine home to hide in the shadows of the forest and watch the servants and villagers dance around the bonfire and celebrate the season of life, of fertility. Morgana had heard whispers that for some it was also a season of sexual awakening, of virile men and welcoming women—a celebration of pleasure given and taken, of life begun. Knowing how protective her stepfather was, it was no wonder she was not allowed to attend such a common celebration, that she had been forbidden even to observe the festivities from afar. What her stepfather didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Morgana led a blessed life for the most part, a much easier life than those of the plainly dressed girls who danced around the fire and laughed out loud and flirted with brawny men. She watched in awe as a young woman with wild, dark hair all but pressed her large round bosom in the face of a momentarily startled man and then danced away laughing. The man recovered from his surprise quickly and followed, and he laughed, too. Any one of those girls would likely do anything to be in Morgana’s position, and yet she often envied them their laughter and freedom.

She was so intent on watching the revelers she did not realize Tomas Glyn was behind her until he laid a hand on her shoulder. Instinctively Morgana gasped, threw off his hand, and spun about. Her fair hair whipped across her face, and even though she was relieved to see it was a lifelong family friend who had surprised her, she remained angry.

“You should not sneak up on a girl that way,” she admonished. “You startled me. I would not wish to hurt you.”

Tomas smiled widely. “You? Hurt me? Impossible.”

“I might’ve been armed with a dagger or a small sword.”

“Are you?” he asked, his tone friendly.

“No, of course not, but I
might’ve
been.”

He moved a step closer. “A fine lady of your position should not be out here all alone. It is not fitting.”

The back of her neck tingled; she did not like the way he looked at her. “I am not alone now.”

“True enough.” Tomas looked past her to watch the revelry she had so recently envied. The peasants were far enough away that they could not hear whispers from the forest over their laughter and song. “Look at them. Aren’t they pathetic? Dancing around the fire and singing as if some god or goddess will bless them simply because they threw a party to see in the new season. I suppose they must take whatever small pleasures they can find, poor creatures.”

Morgana did not think the villagers pathetic, not at all, but neither did she wish to argue. “You won’t tell my stepfather that you saw me, will you?” she asked. “He has forbidden me to wander away from home on my own, and he would be livid if he knew I’d sneaked out at night. I shouldn’t have disobeyed him, I know, but I did so want to see the celebration.” In years past she had considered stealing away to watch one festivity or another, but this was the first time she’d dared to actually leave the house.