Crystal Moon (27 page)

absence. Hamon and the rest have gone ahead to act as

reinforcement. I’ve sent messages to the other rebel leaders to

strike now while DiSanti is off balance. His commanders need

to be neutralized before they can regroup and seize power. The

ministers must be convinced of the power of the rebellion.”

Thoughts of the coming struggle sapped Kyne’s resolve.

He sank into the chair next to Graham’s bed and massaged the

bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. “Many will die

before this is over. Je’al was killed and Lisha was injured.”

“How badly?”

“It will be a miracle if she survives.”

“You believe Sianna will provide that miracle. Why else

would you risk climbing the trail in the dark?”

“Perhaps. I only know I couldn’t just stand and watch her

bleed to death. She is Laila DiSanti. He has two daughters.”

“It makes sense, but how did he keep Sianna a secret all

these years?” Graham’s dark brows pulled together. “After

Sianna had been here awhile, I couldn’t believe her capable of

plotting Aubin’s murder. I could barely accept she’d lain with

him. She wears innocence like a cloak.”

Heat flashed through Kyne. How sweetly she bestowed

that innocence on him even as he thought her guilty of Aubin’s

foul murder.

“Nor do I believe Laila plotted with DiSanti to kill Aubin,”

Graham continued.

“Neither do I. But I believe she and Aubin were lovers.

She commands the liking and respect of the people. Either she

truly hates her father, or she is an extremely clever spy, but

none of her actions or those of DiSanti bear this out. On the

battlefield she saved me from DiSanti. He struck her down

without a qualm.”

Kyne sank into a chair. Shoulders bowed, he buried his

face in his hands. “She carries Aubin’s babe.”

Graham touched Kyne’s shoulder. “Seek your bed. There’s

naught for you to do but pray. If any can save the woman and

Aubin’s child, Sianna can.”

***

Sianna straightened and groaned as her back protested the

motion. Her work was done. The immediate danger past, Laila’s

life now lay in the Eternal One’s hands.

Outside, long shadows signaled the coming night. A hush

hung over the great hall, broken only by the clink of crockery

and the murmur of voices. Over the sour stench of blood, the

aroma of Betha’s cooking tantalized Sianna’s nose. She hadn’t

eaten since the previous night, and then only lightly.

“You’ve done all you can. Go eat. Rest. I’ll sit with Lisha.”

Though tempted, Sianna looked at Katya and hesitated.

Blood covered Katya’s hands and clothing. Red streaked her

straggling blonde hair while exhaustion painted dark circles

beneath her eyes and etched lines around her mouth. “But,

you....”

“Go. Don’t worry about me. When Althea awakes I’ll

retire.” Katya waved her hand toward the old healer, asleep on

a nearby pallet. “And there are others who will gladly sit with

the woman who saved their Rul’s life.”

Sianna sighed and nodded. Would they be so eager if they

knew the truth? More than their father’s blade imperiled Laila’s

life. Sympathetic eyes followed her progress across the hall,

but guilt turned the love they tried to wrap around her into a

funeral shroud. Watching these people’s affection turn to hate

would be a bitter brew to swallow.

Heart and feet heavy, Sianna headed up the stairs toward

Kyne’s chamber. Warda hugged her side, his shaggy body warm

and comforting. Too soon the chamber door loomed before

her. Did he wait for her? Fear dissolved hunger. What answers

would he demand? Her hand drifted protectively to her belly.

What truths could she tell him?

The handle moved beneath her hand, and the door swung

inward. A cozy fire burned in the hearth, casting a flickering

glow over the dim, quiet room. Darkness shrouded the rest of

the chamber. Beside the hearth, a cloth-covered tray rested on

a table. The yeasty scent of fresh bread mingled with the smell

of spiced wine and roasted vegetables.

“Come in.” Low and gravelly, Kyne’s voice came from a

murky corner.

Sianna jumped, and the door swung shut with a bang behind

her. Warda growled and pressed close.

“Go lie down,” Kyne commanded the hound.

Warda turned his dark, liquid eyes to Sianna.

“Go,” she whispered.

Reluctantly, the hound lumbered to his spot by the hearth

and crouched in the shadows. His wary gaze moved from Kyne

to Sianna and back again.

“You’ve won them all to your side.” Kyne gave a humorless

laugh and stepped into the light. “Even Katya follows at your

heels. What will they say when they learn the truth?”

He had bathed and changed, but his battle with DiSanti had

left its mark. An angry red cut marred his cheek, and flecks of

blood soaked through the white bandage around his arm. Firelight

flickered over his chest, left bare by his open shirt, and cast a

sheen of red to the still damp hair falling over his shoulders.

Like an angry god he stood straddle-legged, fists clenched at

his sides, the cords of his neck taut, eyes cold and hard.

A shiver flowed down Sianna’s spine. She struggled to

reconcile this merciless stranger with the man who had so gently

introduced her to passion. Stiffening her resolve, she moved

toward him.

“Will you kill me now? Or may I eat first?”

Surprise and confusion drew Kyne’s brows together. “Kill

you?”

Sianna slid into the chair by the table and looked up at him.

“That has been the plan all along, has it not? Use me to draw

my father into your trap. Kill him, then me as punishment for

our crimes. Why do you hesitate? I don’t carry Aubin’s babe. I

am DiSanti’s daughter. Kill me, and part of your vengeance is

done.”

Why did she taunt him? Deep inside she knew he would

not raise his hand to her. But could he accept her — love her

— despite her parentage? The words continued to flow withoutaccord from her lips.

“Oh, I forget Laila. Yes, she is pregnant. But can you be

sure it is Aubin’s babe? No? Well, I suppose even you would

balk at the murder of an innocent. So Laila will live until the

child is born. You think you still need me to save her and the

babe she carries? Be assured I have done all I can. The rest is

in the Eternal One’s hands. You may kill me without risking the

babe.” Laila’s babe.

Kyne stormed forward. “What nonsense do you spout?”

His fingers bit into her upper arms as he yanked her up. “May

the Eternal One give me peace. I do not kill innocents.”

Face to face, her feet dangling above the floor, she looked

into his stormy eyes. “Reveal my true identity to your people,

and they will do the deed for you.”

“No!” She felt his horror before he released her and turned

away.

She staggered against the back of the chair. Warmth from

his denial spread through her and eased the chill of loss that

had settled around her heart. Though he had not spoken the

words, he was as aware of the strange bond between them as

was she. The knowledge did nothing to solve the dilemma they

faced, but a spark of hope flared in her breast. Should she tell

him of the newer, more fragile bond they also shared?

“Eat,” he commanded roughly. “There is a bath prepared

for you.” He pointed to a screen blocking a corner in front of

the hearth then stalked toward the door. “Then sleep. We will

speak of your future in the morning, when both our tempers are

calm.”

A thin wisp of fragrant steam wafted across the room from

the heated, waiting water. She sagged into the chair. Tears

burned the backs of her eyes. Though Kyne spoke of her

comfort and her future, his stony gaze and tone told her he had

hardened his heart to her. He might not kill her body, but without

him, her ka would surely perish.

Kyne did not return that night. The next day passed in a

blur of activity. Despite his words of the night before, he never

approached her throughout the day. At times she felt his gaze,

but when she looked up he would be gone.

Under Sianna’s healing touch Laila’s condition stabilized

and improved. Late that evening, Sianna retired to Kyne’s

chamber. He did not join her.

The next two days passed much the same. Tension coiled

like a living thing inside her.

On the evening of the third day a royal messenger arrived.

When Kyne broke the seal and opened the folded parchment,

Sianna felt a blast of emotion from him—anguish—then nothing.

She fled to his chamber.

As the sun crept over the edge of the mountains, Kyne

entered his chamber. Warda stirred briefly and gave a low growl

until he recognized Kyne’s scent, then he closed his eyes again.

Aside from the crackle of the fire and Warda’s whiffling snores,

the chamber lay still and silent. Sianna watched Kyne settle

himself near the hearth. He ran a hand through his hair then

rested his head against the back of the chair.

She slid from the bed and padded to his side. Other than

the weariness he wore over his broad shoulders like a rain

heavy cloak, he guarded his emotions well. Without conscious

thought she sought out the tight muscles of his neck. Strong

and sure, her fingers massaged the knots. In a sensuous cascade

the warm black silk of his hair fell over her hands and forearms.

His moan of pleasure-pain at her touch startled her. She started

to pull back, but he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and

held her hands to his neck. Fire sizzled up her arms and burst

like lightning in her belly.

“Touch me, sweet healer. Cure me of this mad obsession I

have for you.”

Sianna gasped both at his words and as he pulled her around

and into his lap. Through the fragile crystal silk of her nightdress

she felt the hard evidence of his desire and smelled it on the

musk that rose from his skin. She pressed her palms against

the warm, solid wall of his chest. His breath fanned her cheeks.

When his mouth sought and found the sensitive skin of her

throat, her head fell back, and her answer melted in the liquid

fire of his kisses. The past ceased to exist. Tomorrow was a

lifetime away. Only here and now held meaning. Eager hands

stripped away clothing.

Limbs entangled, they tumbled to the fur rug in front of the

hearth. Lips touched. Bodies fused.

Afraid any hesitation would recall the barriers between

them, they came together in a frenzied rush. Kyne plundered

Sianna’s soft mouth and body as if to imprint himself on her, not

caring if she cried out in passion or pain. She seized the moment,

aware that beneath his heated kisses and savage loving he hid

something from her, a desperate need.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he growled against her lips. “You’re the daughter

of my enemy. I cannot love you back.” With a hair-roughened

knee, he spread her thighs and plunged into her.

She accepted his invasion with a small gasp. “You may lie

to yourself, but you cannot lie to me.” She met him thrust for

thrust.

Raw passion banished rational thought and drove her

mindless with physical need, until she screamed her release

and he spent himself within her.

Afterwards, they sprawled naked across the fur rug, the

night air cool against their sweat-dampened skin. Eyes closed,

Kyne’s chest heaved. His skin glistened in the firelight. Anxious

to share the heat radiating off his large body, she wiggled closer.

At her touch he rose and turned his back to her. She shivered

from more than the chill air.

“Get dressed and come down to the hall.” After dressing,

he strode out of the chamber.

Though he hadn’t hurt her physically, her ka felt bruised

and torn by the contempt in his voice. A blush of anger heated

her skin. His words proved he hated the very blood that ran in

her veins, yet she accepted his kisses and more without protest.

Like a faithful hound she waited on his convenience. She pulled

her torn nightdress over her nakedness. Pride, long subdued by

the Sisters’ training, and more recently by guilt, rose within her

and stiffened her spine.

Legs trembling she stood. Despite her father’s crimes, no

longer would she beg at Kyne’s feet for crumbs of affection.

Sixteen

Kyne leaned against the stone mantle while the hall came

slowly to life around him. When he scowled, a young boy sent

to tend the morning fire scurried away.

He straightened and crumbled the prince’s message in his

fist, tempted to toss the thing into the fire. Loyalty and common

sense prevented him. But could he obey the prince’s command?

When his parents were murdered on DiSanti’s order six

annum ago, he took on the burden of raising and protecting

Katya and Aubin, as well as the responsibility of leading the

rebellion. Others looked to him for strength and guidance. They

searched in vain. He had none to give.