22 Nights (4 page)

Bela placed Kitty upon another rack, one which had been built just for that purpose. Like the few feminine adornments Bela possessed, Kitty sparkled. The special crystal from the mountains nearby was alive in a way that was difficult to explain.

Sometimes Kitty spoke to her. Not in a voice that could be heard with the ears, but with a whisper in the soul. For weeks on end Kitty would be silent, and then she would begin to speak again, spreading wonder into Bela’s life. Bela reached out and touched her fingertips to the crystal grip. Even though Kitty’s existence had been known of for less than three years, she was already legend among the Turis. Every warrior wanted her, and some wondered aloud why Bela Haythorne, a mere woman, possessed such a gift. Many thought that her father had allowed her to keep it, a special gift for a spoiled daughter. What they didn’t know, what very few understood, was that Bela had not chosen Kitty.

Kitty, a sword which was as alive as any person Bela knew, had chosen her. The village seer, a grumpy old man named Rafal Fiers, said that one day Kitty would choose another. But not today.

Bela heard the front door open and close several times. She heard raised voices that held a tenor of excitement. Kitty’s grip shone bright, as if she were excited, too. Could a sword feel exhilaration? Could it crave and want and feel? Kitty could, Bela knew it.

Her bed chamber door opened swiftly, without the courtesy of a knock.

“The main room,” her mother said briskly. “Hurry.”

Bela left Kitty upon her rack and followed her mother from the chamber. She should’ve expected what she found in the main room of her family home, but she had not. The sight took her breath away.

General Merin, better lit here than he had been when she’d seen him on the road, was on his knees, head down, hands tied behind his back. She could not see his face for the fall of dark curls which were surely the envy of many a vain woman. Tyman stood behind the general, the tip of his sword at Merin’s neck.

“Stop!” Bela cried.

Her brother lifted his head but not his sword. “We know what he did to you, Bela. He was foolish enough to come back here, and he will pay the price. As soon as he delivers his message to Papa, the general is going to die.”

Merin tried to lift his head, but Tyman forced it back down with a tap of his blade.

“You don’t understand,” Bela began. There went her heart again, pounding too hard and too fast. Why was she alarmed? Maybe it would be best if Merin was dead. Hadn’t she just threatened to take his head herself?

But not like this, and not for something that wasn’t his fault.

“I do not need to understand!” Clyn bellowed. “He took a husband’s rights, and then he rode away and did not look back.”

“It was my fault,” Bela said, the words hurting a little. She hated to admit that anything was her fault. “I insisted . . .”

“You were seventeen!” Tyman shouted. “He was a grown man who should’ve known better.”

Even from this distance, Bela heard Kitty’s urgent whisper as clearly as if the words were being shouted.
Tell all.

Bela took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her mother tried to calm her boys. They would not kill Merin right away, not until her father arrived and the message which had brought him here was delivered. There had to be another way. How could she tell her family what had really happened that night? It was mortifying.

“Fine,” Bela snapped. “Since it appears that you
must
know, I drugged the general until he was nonsensical, told him I was twenty years of age and a widow looking for physical comfort, and then I took off all my clothes and his and . . .”

“You didn’t,” Clyn said in a low voice which was much more frightening than his roar.

“I did,” Bela said, lifting her chin in defiance.

“She did,” Merin echoed.

“Why?” her mother wailed. “Belavalari, how incredibly imprudent!”

Bela sighed. Tyman still hadn’t moved his sword into a less threatening position. “I couldn’t do anything!” she said with evident annoyance. “Papa and you two said I was a maid who could not put myself in danger, that I could not fight or ride or wear the trousers you outgrew.” She rolled her eyes. “You all wanted me to become something I was not, to wear dresses and be coy with suitable boys who might become husbands. I lied to General Merin so he would take my bothersome virginity and I would no longer be a maid.”

“That is nonsense,” Tyman said. His sword shifted slightly to the side.

Bela looked her brother in the eye. “Is it? I don’t think it’s nonsense at all. In fact, I believe my plan worked quite well. Merin left, so I was not saddled with a man I did not want, and once you knew what had happened, you two felt so guilty for not protecting me more diligently that you allowed me to do whatever I wanted. By the time your guilt faded, it was too late to turn back.” Her trick had been childish, she could see that now, but it
had
worked.

Tyman’s expression hardened. “You do share some blame, in that case, but the fact is, the general took your virginity and did not marry you. For that alone he deserves to die.”

Bela pursed her lips. She had hoped it would not come to this, but she couldn’t let them kill Merin under false pretenses. If anyone killed him, it would be her. “That’s not entirely true.”

“You said he took a husband’s rights!”

Bela shuddered. That was a memory she could not forget no matter how she tried. “He did. He also married me,
before
the act was done, if you must know all the details.”

Tyman’s sword dropped away, and Merin lifted his head and looked at her. On his knees, bound, angrier than she had ever seen any man. He was still pretty, far prettier than her, but in this light she could see the years that had passed written on his face. A crease here, a toughness there.

“I did not marry you,” he said tightly.

Idiot man! Such lies would lead to his death, if he were not careful.

Bela remembered that night much too clearly, and there was no denying it now. “According to Turi custom, we are very much married, General.” It was the perfect marriage, in her mind, even though she had managed to keep her wedded state a secret until now. Merin was an absent spouse and she had her freedom. If her parents ever insisted that she needed to marry, if they ever tired of waiting for her to choose a mate and tried to force one upon her, she could inform them that she already had a husband. The marriage could be undone if there were no children, but not without both husband and wife present and participating in a ceremony not quite as simple as the marriage.

Her plan had been perfect. Until now.

There was stunned silence in the room, and her mother had gone so pale Bela was afraid the older woman might faint. Bela looked down at Merin, who seemed more angry than afraid. His eyes were so dark they looked more black than brown, so deep they seemed to be a bottomless pool of vitriol. She stared into them for a long moment before saying, “Welcome home, husband.”

MERIN
glared at Bela. As if it wasn’t humiliating enough to be in this position, bound and on his knees, inches from death, she had to complicate matters by lying. Why? Since she’d threatened to kill him already, he doubted her efforts were meant to spare his life.

He could’ve fought back long before now, taking down at least two or three of the Turis before they got him into this position, but he hadn’t wanted to kill or even wound anyone. His job here was one of peace, and it would be a bad start to take his sword or his fists to one of the chieftain’s sons.

That did not mean he would let Bela lie to save him.

“I believe I would remember marrying you,” he said.

She sighed and lifted her hands, palms up. Yes, she had grown up very nicely, filling out just a little in the breasts and hips. Her face was slightly more angular than he remembered, but was still perfectly proportioned and remarkably striking. That thick brown hair should be ordinary, but thanks to a glint of dark red it was not. Her mouth was a bit wider than was considered perfect, he supposed, but it suited her face, as did those perfectly arched dark eyebrows and the calculating eyes beneath. The gown she wore was simple, and it hugged her curves with a softness that was unlike the dresses of those women who lived and partied in the imperial palace.

She had given him a night he would never forget. And he had tried to forget.

“Do you remember that I brought you a bowl of warm cider and you drank it from my hands?” she asked, speaking to him as if he were mentally impaired.

“Yes,” he answered through clenched teeth.

“Do you remember placing the wreath of leaves upon my head?”

“Yes.”

“Then there was a kiss and a short and very clumsy dance.” Though she did not exactly demonstrate, she did stick out one long, slender foot and wag it gently.

“You drugged me. But yes, I remember.”

Bela’s mother rushed forward, taking command in spite of the tension in the air. “Untie him immediately,” she commanded.

Clyn and Tyman likely didn’t obey many orders—they were more accustomed to giving them—but they listened to their mother. In short order Merin found himself released and on his feet. Bela’s brothers were still not genial, not in the least, but they no longer threatened to kill him.

“There’s been a terrible misunderstanding,” Merin said, directing his words to the wife of the chieftain, since she seemed to be the only reasonable person in the room. “I’m not sure what happened when I was last here . . .”

Oddly, the older woman smiled. “It sounds as if my daughter tricked you into marrying her. The ceremony should’ve been witnessed, but it’s no less valid for its secrecy. You two would not be the first couple who sought privacy for reasons of pleasure and came back man and wife.”

Merin glanced at Bela for a moment, and then back to her mother. He had not imagined that night could be any more disastrous, but here they were, six years later, and it was most definitely worse. “Allowing that somehow we are indeed married, is there any way the marriage can be undone? ”

Bela pursed her lips. Clyn might’ve growled.

“Of course,” Gayene said. “Dissolving a marital union isn’t as easy as creating one, however. There are certain steps that must be taken.”

“Even if one party was not willing or well informed when the marriage took place?” Merin asked.

“Even so, I’m afraid.” The chieftain’s wife did not look particularly upset by this turn of events. In fact, he could swear she was pleased. She fought the smile that tugged at her lips, but she did not fight very well.

“How long does it take to perform these steps of dissolution?” Merin asked.

“I was certain you’d be killed in the war,” Bela said sharply. “I would’ve been very happy to be a widow.”

Merin glared at her. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Tyman all but shouted, directing his anger at his sister.

Bela rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “I would’ve told you all when word of the general’s death reached the village, and I could’ve made it a great and sad story, too. I might even have shed a few tears.”

“Thank you so much,” Merin mumbled.

Bela pinned smart moss green eyes on him, unafraid and unashamed when she should be cowering in humiliation for what she’d done. “But the stubborn man survived. I should’ve known he would not cooperate.” She turned back to her brothers. “If I’d let you two know that we were actually married, you would’ve tracked him down and brought him back. I didn’t want that, so I just told you that he’d taken my virginity and you could no longer treat me like an innocent maid. That was all I wanted anyway, though to be a widow would’ve been more acceptable in your eyes, I know.”

“What if there had been a child?” Clyn asked. “Then would you have told us the truth?”

Merin laughed. “Trust me when I tell you there was no chance of a child to result from this ill-advised
marriage
.”

“But Bela said . . .”

Merin raised a hand to silence the lot of them. This was a conversation he didn’t want to have with anyone, least of all Bela’s brothers. He looked to Gayene Haythorne. “When will your husband return?”

“Ah, yes, you have come to us with a message,” she said. “I expect my husband to return soon, but he’s often delayed by one sort of business or another, particularly after a celebration such as the marriage which took place tonight. Can you not tell us here and now what brings you back to our humble village?”

Nothing about the Turis was humble! They were maddeningly superior and prideful. “The emperor is in the market for a bride, and some ill-advised minister suggested that Belavalari might make a fine empress.”

In an abrupt change of mood, Bela’s brothers laughed. Bela herself paled considerably. Her mother only blinked. “Well, that won’t do, as she already has a husband in you, General Merin.”