Bride by Command (30 page)

“I have your poison.”

Danya’s eyes snapped open as Kristo stepped from the shadows. From his hand there swung a small leather bag which bulged with something deadly. Something which would end Rainer’s life and save the life of her child.

“I won’t need it right away,” she said, keeping her back to the door.

“Why not?”

“Before I can get Rainer to eat from my hand, he must trust me,” she snapped impatiently. “At the moment he does not.”

The deadly bag continued to swing from a cold hand. “You play with your child’s life,” Kristo teased.

Realizing that she had some power in this relationship helped Danya to be less afraid of the cold man than she had once been, and still she trembled. “You won’t hurt Ethyn,” she whispered. “You still need me.” She bravely took a step away from the door and toward Kristo. To cower with her back to the wall only made her appear weak. “The plan has changed. Rather than killing Rainer, I’m going to bring him over to my side.”

“He’s annoyingly and unerringly good,” Kristo said. “How could you possibly . . .”

“Sex,” she said boldly. “He wants me, and I am more than willing to give him all that he wants.”

Kristo’s eyebrows arched in amusement. “You cannot wait for your wedding night, Empress Danya? You’re so needful you’ll turn to another man mere days before you’re to take your vows?”

She smiled, though it took great effort. “I know what you want from me,
Uncle
Kristo. You want a child. You want the next emperor at your command. When we first met, you said as much. You told me that you and those you worked with were pleased that I had the ability to produce a son.” She wondered if there truly were others, or if he had lied. Perhaps he was just one lonely, evil man, working alone. No, someone had to be watching over Ethyn. “If I have two men at my service, then the event you most desire is doubly likely to happen soon.” She looked Kristo in the eye, glad at this moment that her chamber was dimly lit. “The emperor’s father had several wives and was wed to one or another for many years before he produced an heir. What if Emperor Jahn is like his father? What if you have to wait years for the child you want? Rainer is fair-haired like the emperor, so if the child looks like the man who sired him, no matter who that man might be, then all will be well.”

“You have given this some thought.”

More than he would ever know. “Rainer has magic, you know. Wouldn’t it be nice if the child inherited some of his father’s abilities?”

“I suppose.”

“Emperor Jahn is only a man,” she said with disdain. “He possesses no magic, nothing to offer his offspring. It might actually be best if I’m with child when I wed the emperor.”

“Perhaps that child should be mine.”

Danya held her chin high, hiding her revulsion. “That’s not going to happen. Touch me, and this alliance is over.” She’d made sacrifices and she would make more, but she would not allow this man to get near her.

“You’re quite confident.”

She glared at the cold man. His name was Kristo, she called him uncle for the sake of others, and yet she often thought of him as the hooded man. He should live that way, always in shadow. She had to reach deep to remind herself that he needed her, that she was not entirely at his mercy. “You will get your child and I will get mine. You will have control of the next emperor of Columbyana, and I will have Ethyn. Rainer remains alive.” She reached out and snatched the leather bag from Kristo’s hand. “Until he has served his purpose.”

 

 

MORGANA
listened diligently to Rainer’s teachings. Her curse was simply a form of energy, he said again and again. It was no different from breath or dance, laughter or tears. Control was not only possible, he insisted, it was necessary.

For this morning’s lesson they had traveled a short distance away from the palace, to a western field. She and her tutor were not alone; Jahn would never allow that. Six sentinels had accompanied them to the field, and though they remained at a distance, they encircled her in a protective—or imprisoning—manner. Six men, all armed and solemn! You would think she was an enemy of the state, the way she was guarded.

At least Jahn himself was not here, watching her lessons and trying in vain to convince her that his lies were not unforgivable.

Still wearing the faded yellow dress she had worn when she’d been Ana Devlyn, Morgana faced the large, empty space before her, where trees and grasses grew wild, and the gentle wind whipped them all about in a rhythm that had a song of its own. The sun shone, and she drank in the rays that reminded her of freedom and better days—days when she had not known of her curse, and later days when she’d traveled with a lying, no-good, conniving emperor who had made her believe he could keep the curse at bay.

Now she knew it would never be at bay. She had to learn how to control her curse—her
abilities,
Rainer called them—or else she would have no sort of life at all. Not here, not elsewhere. If she did not learn control, she would forever be a prisoner of her cur . . . of her abilities.

All morning they had worked on finding and identifying and claiming the root of her power. The icy energy was not beyond her control. It was a part of her—a gift, he said. Next had been finding how best to direct that energy. It was not enough to harness the beast, she had to know how to steer it. They had found her right hand worked best. All that remained was for her abilities to be tested.

“Find the cold center of the power,” Rainer instructed.

“But I’m not angry or scared,” Morgana argued.

“That doesn’t matter. The power is always there, and you must learn to hold it, or else it will hold you.”

Morgana closed her eyes. Cold. She did know, and had told Rainer, that the destruction began with a sliver of ice at the core of her being. She had worked to deny that sliver, so it was difficult to call to it now. She did not want to search out that chill; she wanted to send it away!

If she could not send it away, she would learn control. She had not been able to learn it for herself, and did not want to stay here so near to Jahn, but for the child that might be within her, she would do whatever was necessary. Her child deserved better than a mother who was constantly afraid of who—or what—she was.

“Find the sliver and contain it,” Rainer said. “Capture it; make it your own.”

Just as Jahn had done to her . . . Captured. Owned. Released.

There it was, that sliver of cold. Instead of pushing it away, as she had attempted to do in the past, Morgana mentally wrapped her hand around that sliver of ice. She felt the power. She claimed it.

“See that one red flower?” Rainer asked.

Morgana followed his gesture and saw the single red flower among the pink. It was taller and brighter and more beautiful than all the rest. “Yes,” she said. “I see it.”

“Freeze that flower but leave all those around it untouched.”

“I can’t . . .”

“Try,” he said gently.

Morgana stared at the red flower for a long time, while Rainer remained silent and patient. She acknowledged the power inside her, rather than trying to push it away, and so it did not explode; it did not overtake her. Eventually she lifted her right hand, as Rainer had taught her to do, and directed her cold power toward that one red flower.

There was a burst similar to the two she had experienced in the past, but instead of encircling her, the blue burst of energy flew forward in a sweeping motion. Her aim was off, and she crystallized not the one red flower but a dozen or so to the left.

“Very good,” Rainer said proudly.

Morgana turned to see that her tutor had retreated to a spot several feet behind her. “Very good? I missed, and you were so worried, you moved well out of the line of fire.”

He smiled. “I am no fool, My Lady,” he responded. “Your power is a mighty one, and you do not yet have complete control.”

No, but in a mere two days she had found, at last, some control. That little bit of mastery gave her hope.

“You’re tired,” he said.

“I am,” she admitted. She had never been one for sleeping during the day, but at the moment she desperately wanted a nap. “Control is exhausting.”

His smile was wide and bright, and Morgana wondered why she could not have fallen in love with such a sweet, uncomplicated man as this. Why did she continue to love a man who had deceived and humiliated her?

Love or no love, she was not going to stay here. She would not marry the emperor! No matter what Jahn said, he could not make her take vows. She glanced behind her at the stalwart guard, as she and Rainer returned to the palace. And one day . . . one day his guard would falter, and when it did, she’d make her escape. She couldn’t wait for Jahn to let her go, as he said he would.

Well beyond the green-clad guards, another contingent sat on horseback. Most of them were dressed in green, as were her sentinels, but at the center there sat one man in crimson, one man with flowing fair hair who sat on his horse and watched her from a distance. He did not approach, he did not ride away. He simply watched.

For a weak moment she wished he were close enough that she could see his face, and then she pushed the weakness away. That was not the man she knew, the man she had come to love. He was a stranger.

 

 

KRISTO
was called to the window of his too-small room by a power he knew well. It drew him there, it sang to him the way sex or love or laughter sang to other people. He watched for a long while before he finally saw her. His daughter, walking beside a familiar man who really should be dead by now, moved closer to the palace with each step, and with each step Kristo felt the power more clearly. The man who accompanied her and the guards who walked behind and beside her didn’t feel it, not the way he did. If they sensed even a drop of the power Kristo sensed, they would run for their lives.

He smiled. Morgana looked like her mother, but was stronger than that woman had been. Dressed like a beggar woman and wearing her hair in a simple twist, his daughter walked with the confidence of a lady. Of an empress. He should’ve stolen her away years ago, and might’ve if he’d known their paths would lead them here.

Once Rainer and Morgana were out of sight, once they were in the palace itself, Kristo ran from his chamber with great speed. He headed for the stairway and scampered down. Down and down and down, hoping he was not too slow. Sure enough, he passed the couple just before they reached Level Seven and entered the hallway there. He could not get close, as a contingent of guards was on her tail, but he saw her at last.

Rainer glanced to the side, recognizing Kristo as his lady friend’s uncle. Knowing the man’s powers of perception, Kristo had gone to great lengths to keep his distance, but they had dined in the same hall, smoked in the same gathering rooms. Morgana paid Kristo no mind at all, even though he looked her squarely in the eye and bowed with great respect. She had been hidden from him for a very long time, but being so close to her changed everything. Now that he saw inside her, he knew his plans had not been for nothing.

His daughter was powerful, she was a prisoner, she was angry—and she was already carrying the next emperor of Columbyana in her taut, flat belly.

Level Seven, that was where she’d been imprisoned. Now that Kristo knew exactly where Morgana was, they would not remain apart for much longer.

SHE
should’ve expected the emperor to be persistent, Morgana thought as she once again stared down the man who foolishly claimed to be her husband. Jahn had always been stubborn, no matter who he was or pretended to be.

Well, she could be stubborn, too.

There were now untouched jewels mixed in with the unworn shoes and gowns she’d set aside, rejected as they’d arrived. All the gifts had been delivered by the few sentinels who knew—at least to some degree—who she was. The men who had been guarding her for many weeks—for nearly the past two months!—had known all along that their “friend” Jahn was indeed their emperor. They hadn’t been doing him a favor, they’d been following orders! Morgana was displeased with them all. Their lies didn’t sting the way Jahn’s did, but still, they were lies.

“I knew you would be angry when you found out the truth,” Jahn said calmly. “But you cannot remain angry forever.”

She glared at him, trying to ignore the fact that he looked so imposing and handsome in his crimson imperial robes. He did not have a crown upon his head, but he could have, she supposed. His hair was worn loose today, as it had been yesterday, those differing shades of blond and brown mingling in an interesting way, and his jaw was so smooth she knew he had just shaved. For her? He knew how she hated his beard, and he did have a very nice jaw-line and cheekbones . . .

She should not find him at all handsome or appealing. He was a snake!

“Actually, I can remain angry as long as I’d like,” she said coolly. “I can remain angry for years, I imagine. Maybe even forever.”

Jahn stalked to the window and stared out of it as if there were something to see. “Deputy Rainer tells me your lessons are going quite well,” he said.

“I suppose that’s true,” Morgana said without emotion, even though her insides were roiling. Her instructions must be going better than she’d imagined, since she did not at this moment feel even a sliver of ice, even though she was furious with Jahn.

“Rainer says that with practice you’ll soon have complete control of your . . . your . . .” Jahn sounded like he was going to choke on his own words.

“My power to destroy everything in the path of my fear or anger,” Morgana supplied without stammering. “My curse. My magical abilities. I imagine no matter what you call my unusual capability, it isn’t exactly what you’re looking for in an empress.”

Jahn turned to face her again, and she wished he had not. Emperor or not, lies or not, this was the man she had learned to rely on, to need with all her heart. This was the man who had warmed her, who had made her hope and made her believe that the curse could be buried. This was the man she had fallen in love with. He looked devastated; she had never seen him so sad.