Bride by Command (37 page)

“Her uncle?” Rainer snapped as Whystler passed him, headed for the door.

“Yes. He and Minister Calvyno’s nephew helped to move her from the upper level, where she collapsed, to her own chamber, so she would be more comfortable. She was nonsensical, so I gave her a spoonful of sleeping potion to help her rest.” He shook his head and glanced at the bed and a resting Danya. “The emperor should know she is not fit before he makes his decision. Not that she’s likely to be able to make an appearance tonight, when the choice is made.” His voice turned oddly cheerful, for a moment. The physician didn’t want to see Danya as empress any more than other palace residents did.

“How long will she sleep?” Rainer asked, wondering what had happened to bring Danya to this low point.

“The drug affects people differently, but it’s unlikely she will stir before morning.” With that the physician nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Rainer moved to the bed and looked down on a pale, trembling Danya. He covered her with the blanket which had been kicked to the end of her bed, and then he lay down beside her, attempting to keep her warm. He wanted to track down Kristo and throw the man into a small cell on Level Twelve. Men like this one made Rainer wish Level Thirteen was still in use. If ever a man deserved to be thrown into a pit not fit for humans, locked away forever, it was Kristo Stoyan. But until Danya’s son was returned to her, nothing could be done about the man who had stolen the child and secreted him away, using an innocent child against a loving mother.

Rainer placed the length of his body along Danya’s, attempting to warm her. She was so cold! Her face was white as snow, and her skin radiated a chill which was entirely unnatural. He could not identify the energy, but was quite sure it had originated with Kristo. He ran his hands along her arms, he breathed warm air against her neck. Still, she remained too cold.

She would never forgive him if he did anything to endanger her son, but what was he to do? How could he save Danya and her child and the emperor, too? How could he do what was right?

A wave of sharp sadness radiated from the sleeping woman; it was unlike anything he had ever felt from Danya before. Rainer smoothed a strand of dark hair away from her snow-white face.

“What has that bastard done to you?”

EVEN
though it was early in the evening and the partying had just begun, the sounds of revelry reached Jahn’s ears, muffled through stone walls and his own distraction. Those who were ignorant—and those who were not—celebrated the coming of summer, when the sun was at its peak and the goddesses were heavy with child. Masked dancers had already begun to gather in the ballroom, where in a short time Jahn was expected to choose his empress.

It had seemed like such a simple, harmless contest on that First Night of the Spring Festival, when he had been tired of the constant nudging to take a wife, tired of the responsibilities that came with the small gold crown which sat so heavily upon his head tonight.

Thanks to his foolish contest, everything in his life had changed. Alix had taken a wife and was gone, no longer the steady and ever-present rock Jahn had always leaned upon. They would always be brothers, and perhaps one day they would be friends, as they had once been, but at the moment Jahn felt only a loss.

He’d had the very real concept of betrayal revealed to him in a startling and disturbing way. Perhaps he had not asked to be emperor; perhaps he had not fought for his throne, as Arik before him had fought. But no matter how he had come to be here, this was his place in the world, and he could never again forget that there were those who would do anything to have the power that came with this position. There would always be those who would kill for what he had been born to.

Not only his life had been changed by the events he’d set into motion. Princess Edlyn was dead, as was Lady Leyla, whose body had been found with what remained of her traveling party. An attempt had been made on Lady Verity’s life; he could hardly blame her for walking away from the palace and his contest for the simple life of a sentinel’s bride. There was still no word from General Merin and the woman he had been sent to fetch, the Turi barbarian Lady Belavalari. And Morgana—her life had most certainly changed.

Almund Ramsden had arrived in Arthes this very day and, to hear Calvyno tell it, was working diligently to gain an audience. Jahn had been able to avoid the man, as well as many others, but sooner or later he would have to face them all. What would he say to the man when they finally came face to face? Jahn was emperor and by law entitled to anything he desired, but Ramsden was a father, and he had rights of his own.

Lady Danya was the only one of the six women who was apparently unaffected by the events of the past three months. From what little he had seen of her, she already considered herself empress. Was she working with those who wished to take this country from him? Or was she simply lucky in avoiding whatever sad fate might’ve been planned for her? Tonight would be a shock for her, he imagined, since as far as she knew, she had no competition and would soon have the position she craved.

The door to his office burst open, and Jahn’s hand instinctively dropped to his sword. After all he had learned, he could not be unarmed when he faced what was to come. He relaxed when he saw Minister Calvyno and behind him General Merin, in the company of two women and a young man Jahn had never seen before. Since Merin had been sent to fetch one of the potential brides, at least one of these women must be Lady Belavalari. Judging by the ladies’ dress and attitude, it was clear which one was the barbarian.

“My Lord,” Calvyno said, paler than usual and obviously shaken. “These ladies are . . . dare I say it . . . potential brides for your consideration.”

Merin opened his mouth to say something but Calvyno continued.

“Rather, they would be potential brides if they had not already
married.
”

There followed a convoluted and almost amusing account, told in turn by all four newlyweds. What it came down to was that Merin had married Lady Belavalari, and his brother Savyn Leone had taken Lady Leyla—miraculously not at all dead—as his wife. The body found had been that of her chaperone, Calvyno explained. He was flustered and apologetic, but Jahn found himself amused for a blessedly peaceful moment.

Perhaps he had not ruined too many lives—other than his own—after all.

Of course, this night was not yet over.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jahn said as he approached the weary travelers. “You will be needed for the ceremony which is soon to take place.”

Merin’s shoulders squared. “My Lord, in case you did not fully understand, Bela is my wife, and Lady Leyla is . . .”

“Yes, yes, you’re all happily and blissfully wed. That does not mean I cannot put you all to good use before the night is done.”

He had some explaining to do, he supposed. Judging by the confusion and even anger he saw on the faces around him, those explanations were going to take some time.

“Minister Calvyno,” Jahn said, turning to the weary man, “fetch us some wine.”

“Gladly, My Lord.” The man all but ran from the room, and Jahn wasn’t certain poor Calvyno would ever return. It didn’t really matter. It was possible he had all the help he needed right here before him.

“Ladies,” Jahn said in his most charming voice, “please sit and rest. I’m sure it’s been a tiring day.”

And it was about to get more tiring.

 

 

MORGANA
allowed herself to be collected by two solemn sentinels and escorted to the noisy ballroom where soft music played and wine flowed. The grand chamber had been decorated with crimson banners and depictions of the sun in all its glory, bright and shining down upon them all, as well as a number of statues and statuettes of goddesses large with child. Morgana tried not to look too pointedly at those statues. She herself was not yet so large, but she would be, one day soon. She was no goddess, but she was—or would be—mother of an emperor.

Kristo kept his distance, but was never too far way. His eyes bored through her. She felt them, like daggers in her back. Did he know what she was going to do? What Jahn was going to do? She tried to tell herself that Kristo was only one man, that he could not destroy a country with his hate, but she knew in her heart that her father was much more than simply one man. He was an ambitious monster.

Jahn was not yet here, and she longed to see him. She needed to see him! Even though the ballroom was crowded and she could not see everyone, if Jahn was here, she would know. She would feel his presence, she was certain of it. Where
was
he? The ballroom swirled with color and light, with laughter and music, until Morgana felt dizzy as she searched for crimson and gold and distinctively streaked hair.

Her initial idea, when she’d told Jahn of Kristo’s plan, had been to lock the horrid man away. It was quite a risk, even if he could be spirited away quickly and imprisoned. Like her, he used his hands to direct his destruction, so if those hands could be quickly restrained, perhaps they could avoid disaster. Kristo could do too much damage in a short period of time, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration that he’d tell everyone about Tomas’s death. Worst of all, he’d tell Jahn. She had confessed many things to her husband as she relented to him, as she’d surrendered so much, but she had not been able to bring herself to tell him that she’d taken a life. That wasn’t necessary for what needed to be done. Perhaps it would never be necessary!

Jahn didn’t think locking Kristo Stoyan away would do them much good. First, they needed to know who was working with the traitor, how many and where they were. Getting one conspirator out of the picture would be only a temporary solution. No, they needed to unmask all those who worked with Kristo, preferably tonight. How else were they to move on?

When the crowd stirred and murmured, Morgana thought that perhaps Jahn had arrived. She turned, and saw with disappointment that it was a strange, tall man in official clothing who’d entered the room, escorting two women. One of them was a strikingly beautiful brunette who studied the crowd meekly, and the other was a pretty woman with chestnut hair in a long braid, a masculine manner of dress, and an attitude. She was not at all meek.

A lady dressed in gold and wearing a feathered mask loudly and drunkenly greeted the newly arrived man as Minister Calvyno. Calvyno spoke softly to the woman, and she shook her head. He spoke to several other people in the area, and got the same response. Finally, he found and spoke to Anrid. Morgana’s heart dropped. She had not seen Anrid or her friend Melusina before now, but they’d been here all along, lost in the crowd. Anrid smiled and pointed to Morgana, and when that was done, Calvyno caught Morgana’s eye and held it strongly. He waved her over, and after taking a deep breath Morgana headed that way. The crowd parted. It had begun.

Morgana was very aware that Kristo carefully watched her every move. One misstep, and he could use his power to cause the chaos he craved. He could turn a man to stone—or he could tell everyone what she had done on the last seasonal first night, and her life would be over as surely as if he had transformed and shattered her.

When she reached Calvyno, he gave her a tight smile. “I was so happy to hear of your
belated
arrival, Lady Morgana. These two ladies also arrived quite recently. Lady Belavalari and Lady Leyla,” he said with a casual and somehow distraught wave of his hand, “if you three will follow me.”

There was no time for introductions, and even if there had been, Morgana didn’t know what she would say. Keep your hands off my husband? You should’ve stayed far away from this place? Duck?

Calvyno led them all to the front of the room, where they were directed to a raised dais which was much too long for three women. Like horses at auction, they were to stand there, close but not too close together.

Morgana’s heart rate increased and her mouth went dry. This was not the plan. She and Lady Danya were to be the only ones here. Jahn would choose Morgana and she would refuse, which would spur Kristo into action. Only then would they know how deep this treachery went. Morgana looked out over the crowd, catching many a curious eye. There was no other way, she knew that, and still she was afraid. Jahn thought they would be able to handle whatever Kristo did, but she could not be certain. If Jahn choose her and she said yes, then there would be no violence here tonight. They would have time to come up with another plan, to find another way to uncover the traitors.

While she stood upon the dais, fighting panic, the emperor arrived.

Morgana could only imagine that Jahn caused this kind of stir whenever he entered a room. People stepped aside. They bowed and curtseyed. They stared after him with awe and admiration and respect—and even fear. He was a powerful man. She had never been more aware of that fact than as he walked toward her. Since learning his true identity she’d seen him in his crimson robes, but tonight he was dressed differently—though the color of his clothing remained the same. Trousers fit snugly atop polished boots. A perfectly fitted jacket was adorned with gold thread and buttons. His golden crown and polished sword caught the light. He smiled, but it was not the true smile she knew and had come to love.

He studied all three of the women who awaited his arrival, but his eyes lingered only on her.

And then he turned to look out over the crowd. “You have all come here tonight to dance and eat fine food and drink wine and, oh yes, to watch me pick an empress from among a special half dozen who have been deemed worthy. Sadly, Princess Edlyn lost her life on the journey, and Lady Verity of Mirham ran off with one of my sentinels. I’m not sure if I should imprison the rascal who stole her or offer him a higher rank.”

There was a smattering of uncomfortable laughter.