Consort (Beyond Ontariese 6) (4 page)

She swallowed hard and dropped her
gaze to her hands. The only problem she had was that she wished it
was more than a rumor. “Anything that keeps Betaul safe is fine
with me.” Indric made an odd sound, part sigh, part growl and she
looked at him. “Would you rather devise a different cover story?
I’m open to suggestions.”

His intense gaze searched hers for a
long, silent moment then he shook his head. “The rumor has
circulated for too long already. No one would believe us if we deny
it now.”

“
I’m sorry. I should have
realized this was reflecting badly on you.” Drakkin chuckled and
she glared at him. “It’s not funny. Indric has been very kind to
me. I should have realized people would think the worst of
us.”

Drakkin looked at Indric, amusement
clear in his red-ringed eyes. “And you have your answer, my friend.
Your ‘mistress’ is adorably naïve. Proceed accordingly.”

“
Fine. I’m naïve.” Cinarra
crossed her arms over her chest and scooted away from Indric. They
didn’t need to make her feel like an idiot simply because she’d
lived a “compartmentalized” life. “Can we please move on? Why did
you bring up Charlotte’s celebration?”

“
I think the wisest course
at this point is to proceed as if nothing happened,” Drakkin told
her. “The security measures here failed, so we must move you to a
new location, but a cover story is already in place to explain your
presence at Indric’s palace.”

And in Indric’s bed. The naughty
thought sent heat cascading from her chest to her abdomen. If only…
“So we move to the palace. Then what?”

“
We spend time together and
reinforce the illusion that we’re lovers.” Indric’s voice sounded
tight and rough, but she couldn’t interpret his expression. “Then I
escort you to the gala on Ontariese and introduce you to some of my
friends. That way if you choose to visit them at some point in the
future, we’ve established a connection that has nothing to do with
Betaul’s true identity.”

“
That makes sense.” She
sighed. Spending time with him was always pleasant, but touching
him and being touched by him would be torturous if it was only to
reinforce an illusion. “Charlotte and I speak frequently on the
metaphysical plane, but it will be wonderful to see her in person
for a change.”

“
Then it’s settled.”
Drakkin pushed to his feet. “I’ll leave the details to
you.”

“
What about Dravon?” Indric
asked, standing as well. “Would it be wiser to send him home? There
is a slim possibility that he was the target.”

“
Let’s leave things as they
are for now. I’ll let Givon know what happened and that we’re
exploring every possibility.”

Givon was Drakkin’s oldest son,
Dravon’s father, and current king of the mountain region of
Hautell. Cinarra had never met him, but his reputation as a wise
leader and devoted family man was impressive.

“
I appreciate your
assistance. As always.” They clasped arms, Drakkin smiled at
Cinarra, and then flashed out of sight.

Still stinging from all the talk about
her naïveté, Cinarra stood and tried to brush past Indric. He
caught her elbow and pulled her around to face him.

Tension moved across his features and
the rings in his eyes gleamed. “Do you honestly believe that’s all
this is? Obligation?”

Her heart leapt in her breast and heat
crept up along her neck. In the beginning she’d allowed herself to
imagine that he cared for her, felt more than rudimentary
responsibility for her and Betaul. But the fantasy only shined a
light on her isolation and made her feel even lonelier.

“
We’re friends.” When that
didn’t seem to please him, she said, “Good friends.”

He shifted his hands to her upper arms
as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her or shake some
sense into her. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you.
Never doubt my desire.”

“
But you never… Why wait
until now to let me know?”

“
When Drakkin brought you
here, you were traumatized and confused.” His fingers gradually
relaxed and he sighed. “And I had a wife.”

“
I could never trust a man
who would cheat on his wife. I’m glad you didn’t betray your vows
to Talya.”

His arm closed around her
and he pushed one of his hands into her hair, splaying his fingers
against the back of her head. “Talya no longer stands between us,
so I’ll make this perfectly clear. I’m tired of
pretending
you’re my mistress. It’s
my intention to court you.”

Before she could react to the shocking
claim, his mouth covered hers, the kiss firm yet patient. His lips
caressed hers, coxed and seduced as he deepened the kiss. Her head
spun and her body melted into the embrace. This couldn’t be
happening. She must have slipped into a fevered dream.

His tongue eased past her lips and
explored the interior of her mouth, determined yet tender. He
tilted his head, fitting his mouth more comfortably over hers. She
concentrated on the sensual slide of his tongue against and around
hers, savoring his scent with each deep breath.

He pulled back with obvious reluctance
and looked into her eyes. “If you don’t have feelings for me, tell
me now. It will not compromise our friendship.”

Her self-consciousness returned as the
sensual haze faded and he lowered his hands to his sides. A
relationship with Indric would be complicated and amazing, but she
was scarred and broken. He knew she was a refugee, that she’d been
held prisoner most of her life, but he had no idea all she’d
suffered or the extraordinary lengths that had been necessary for
her escape. She wasn’t even sure she was capable of trusting
someone enough to open her heart. Indric deserved more than she’d
ever be able to give him.

“
This is so sudden.” She
touched her lips with her fingertips, amazed by the emotions he’d
unleashed with a single kiss. “I don’t know what to
think.”

“
I didn’t ask what you
thought. I asked what you
felt
. It’s a simple question really.
Do you feel more than friendship for me?”

“
Yes. But I’m not
sure—”

Indric placed two fingers against her
lips and smiled. “I’m not asking for your answer now. I’m informing
you of my intention to court you. We’ll explore the possibilities
together.”

She turned her head to the side,
dislodging his fingers. “There are things you don’t know about me,
things your people would never accept.”

“
If I can accept these
things, so can my people.” His tone brooked no argument, then his
expression softened and he added, “I’ve known you for nine cycles.
What deep, dark secrets could you possibly harbor?”

She swallowed hard. He had no idea. He
knew there were forces on Ontariese determined to destroy her and
Betaul. But unless Lord Drakkin had told Indric the details of her
escape, there were still all sorts of damning facts Indric didn’t
know.

Rather than risk snuffing out this
romantic spark before it had a chance to catch flame, she tried a
subtle approach. “You’ve visited me for nine cycles; that much is
true. But our conversations have always been polite and
superficial. We really don’t know each other that well.”

“
Deepening our acquaintance
and testing our compatibility is what courting is all about.” His
hands gently stroked her bare arms, keeping her senses humming. “If
you decide this is not what you want, you’re free to walk away at
any time.”

“
And if I don’t want to be
‘courted’ by a king?”

A sexy smile parted his lips and he
swooped down for another kiss. “Then I’ll persuade you.” He
whispered the claim against her lips then released her and stepped
back. “Preparations must be made for you and Betaul. I shouldn’t be
gone long. Ametto has already called in reinforcements, so you’ll
be safe as long as you stay inside the house. Let Betaul sleep for
a couple of hours. I’ll return at dusk with an armed escort to
transport you and the boys to the palace.”

All she could manage was a stiff nod
as he kissed her hand and then flashed out of sight.

Cinarra stood in the middle of her
living room unable to move, barely able to think. The King of San
Adrin had just informed her of his intention to court her. She
wasn’t even sure exactly what that meant. Was he hoping she’d be
his mistress or his— No, he couldn’t want more than an affair.
Desire and affection were seldom deciding factors when a king chose
his mate.

How had this happened? Indric had
never indicated a sexual attraction to her, never stepped out of
his role as gracious host and trusted friend.

The floor creaked, drawing her
attention to the stairs just visible through a wide archway. Tall
and brawny, bald head gleaming like polished mahogany, Ametto
descended from the upper level of the house.

“
Is something wrong?” She
gave herself a firm mental shake. She couldn’t afford to be
distracted as long as the assailant was still out there. Not only
were Bataul and she at risk, Prince Dravon was her responsibility
as long as he was under her roof.

“
Not at all,” Ametto
assured her. “Bataul’s asleep and Dravon is entertaining himself
with a hologame. I’m going to do a quick perimeter sweep, make sure
the new team is positioned as I instructed them. Is there something
you need?”

“
No. Thanks for asking. I
think I’ll rest for a few minutes, collect myself before I start
packing. King Indric and Lord Drakkin are determined to move us to
the palace.”

“
Sounds like a good idea,
Madam Mazodie.” He always smiled when he said her assumed name.
Mazodie was the ancient Ontarian word for monarch and Ametto was
the only one of the guards who understood the irony. The others,
like the public at large, presumed she was Indric’s mistress rather
than Ontarian royalty.

She climbed the stairs and went to her
bedroom. Betaul’s signal was muted, as it always was when he slept,
but she found comfort in the familiar pulse of his unique energy.
She crossed to the bed and sat, feeling muddled and unsure. Why did
her life have to be so complicated?

With a frustrated sigh, she rubbed her
eyes. A hint of Indric’s cologne lingered on her skin, warm and
spicy, drawing her back into the pleasure of their kiss. She’d been
blindsided by his declaration, totally unprepared for his sudden
advance. When her thoughts were this chaotic, the only hope she had
for sorting through them was to talk it out with her sister,
Charlotte. Besides, Charlotte would want to know about the attack
on Betaul.

Calming her spirit with several slow
breaths, Cinarra summoned the metaphysical plane. The majority of
her abilities no longer required visualization. She could heal and
“see” without benefit of the metaphysical realm, but Charlotte was
on a different planet. Cinarra focused inward, blocking out each of
her senses until she hung suspended in tranquil emptiness. She
lingered a moment, allowing the darkness to caress and calm her.
Then she slowly opened her mind and formed her
surroundings.

Vivid blue with fluffy white clouds,
Earth’s sky arched high above her. Life in Operation Hydra had been
regimented and filled with horror, but it was all she’d known for
the majority of her life. That’s where she’d given birth to her
twins, Krysta and Belle, and watched them grow into extraordinary
young women.

She pictured herself sitting on the
grassy hillside overlooking the domed Center. Mountains rose all
around her, creating the wide valley in which the Center had been
built. In reality, the complex had been destroyed and the occupants
freed. Still, she used the image as an anchor, a brutal reminder of
all she’d survived.

Burying her fingers in the
wild grass, she reached across the telepathic link connecting her
with her sister. Charlotte responded with a nonverbal
ping
.

Do you have a few minutes?
It’s important, but not an emergency.

Charlotte flashed into view, dressed
casually in jeans and a bulky sweater, unusual attire for the High
Queen of Ontariese. “I always have time for you.”

Though they were twins, they no longer
looked alike. Cinarra’s being had been channeled into the body of a
female Mystic moments after the Mystic died. Cinarra’s physical
body had been destroyed, so the only alternative had been allowing
Cinarra’s energy to disperse permanently. Even knowing she would
have died without the transfer, Cinarra still cringed each time she
looked in the mirror. Her short, curly blonde hair should be smooth
and brown like Charlotte’s. Rather than the gently rotating eyes of
an Ontarian, Cinarra’s eyes were now concentric rings of varying
shades of blue. Cinarra’s features should be sophisticated and
regal rather than delicate and “elfin”, as Indric had aptly dubbed
her. And most disconcerting of all, the Mystic had been thirty
years younger than Cinarra, so she now looked more like her
daughter than her twin sister. The only advantage to the age
discrepancy was that it reinforced her role as Betaul’s
mother.

“
What’s the matter?”
Charlotte sat beside her yet pivoted so they could easily see each
other.