Dark Haven (25 page)

“Not at all.”

“Something’s bothering you.”

Kiara reddened. “It’s nothing. Just—it seems so… public. The whole kingdom knows we’re locked in here, trying to produce an heir!”

“Do you think it would be any different, if we were off in a village somewhere? It’s the same for farmers or kings—except that farmers aren’t surrounded by guards.”

Her silk dress slipped across the bare skin of his chest and she wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder. “Maybe so.”

“Be grateful to my grandmother that she ended the whole custom of hanging a bed sheet out the window the next day to show that the bride was a virgin.”

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“Really?”

He shot her a wicked grin. “Carroway says that in the old days, many a couple brought along a rabbit.to sacrifice in order to bloody the sheet and save the bride’s reputation. Grandmother said it was a barbaric custom and not suited to a modern kingdom. So we’re spared that, at least.” The laughter subsided. “Something else is on your mind.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” she murmured. “The whole business of being betrothed from birth…I haven’t, I mean, I don’t—”

Tris drew back far enough to meet her eyes. “You couldn’t possibly disappoint me—in any way,”

he said. “We’re here. Together. Married. It’s what I’ve wanted since Westmarch, even though it seemed too much to hope for.” He paused. “I have an idea.”

He stepped toward the large four‐poster bed and let down the bed curtains, so that they completely hid the bed within. “Close your eyes,” he said, drawing her with him toward the darkened bed. “Now imagine that we’re back on the road—two nobodies from nowhere. We’re at an inn—one of the nicer ones, with a good fire and a nice dinner. We’re totally safe. Everyone else has gone out for the evening.”

Kiara gave a sharp laugh. “Like that ever happened!”

“You don’t know how often I wished it would. So here we are, just two outlaws on the road, nobody important, with an evening all to ourselves. Any ideas on how to pass the time?”

The passion of her kiss surprised him and he pulled her into his arms, letting himself fall 213

backward into the darkness of the bed curtains. His question required no spoken reply.

Late that night, Carina sat by the fire in the empty great room, watching the flickering coals. She looked up as footsteps approached. “There you are,” Cam said. “I got your note. What’s wrong?”

Carina held out a hand, and Cam settled his bulk next to her on the bench Carina had pulled close to the hearth. The coals had been banked, but the fireplace was so large that even so, it was almost too warm to sit close. “You’re going back to Isencroft tomorrow.”

“That’s not new.”

Carina sighed. “No. But until now, it was just an idea. Last year, when we thought you’d died in the slavers’ attack, I didn’t know how to function. We were in so much danger—the slavers, then the ghosts in the Ruune Vidaya— there wasn’t time to think. Everyone had bigger things to worry about. I didn’t burden them. But I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I missed you terribly.”

“I didn’t know where you were,” Cam said quietly, reaching out to push back a strand of dark hair from her eyes. “Soterius and Har‐rtuck pulled me out of the caravan wreckage. I would have died if they hadn’t dragged me to a healer. She was one of the Sisterhood, and she took me to a small citadel Jared hadn’t found yet. They had the elixir we needed to keep Donelan alive.” He took Carina’s hand in his. “That was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life—choose between going after you and saving the king. The only reason I found the strength to go back to Isencroft was that Soterius and Harrtuck promised me they’d find you.”

“One night, when we were at Westmarch, I had Tris search for you,” Carina whispered. “I was so relieved when he said you weren’t among the dead. But I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.

And now, I’m going away again.”

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“I didn’t like being away from you. You know what we always said—you were the brains and I was the brawn. Without you, I had to figure things out for myself.” Cam smiled.

“And from the stories Jonmarc tells, you learned to fight.”

“It’s time, Carina. We need to go our own ways. You’ve got a life waiting for you in Dark Haven.

I’ve got a job to do guarding Donelan—it’s more important than ever with the unrest back home.

There’s no one I’d trust more than Jonmarc to take care of you.” He grinned. “And I’ll admit, the daughter of the brewer’s guild master is my type of girl.” He tipped her chin up to meet his eyes.

“In time, you’ll get Jonmarc to Isencroft. And I’ll come visit—after you’ve gotten settled in.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ON the morning after the royal wedding, Shekerishet’s courtyard was busy as wedding guests made ready to depart. King Kalcen and his entourage left first, with Donelan and the Isencroft retinue leaving just before the supper bells. All day long, nobles took advantage of the 215

unseasonably mild weather to head for home. Jonmarc watched them from his balcony. From the hurry apparent in some of the nobles’ packing, he guessed that the attack had done more than an empty pantry might to hurry guests on their way.

Carina had been busy making her goodbyes to Cam and Donelan, taking up most of the day.

Jonmarc chafed at the delay to see her privately. It was after the seventh bells when the door opened into the sitting room where he waited.

“I was starting to get worried,” Jonmarc said, rising to meet her. She looked tired.

“After I said goodbye to Cam, I stopped by to check on Harrtuck. He’s going to be all right—but it may be a while before he’s ready for any real fighting.”

Jonmarc took her hand. “There isn’t any fighting to be done. He’s supposed to have a comfortable palace job now.”

Carina’s eyes darkened. “It’s not long before Tris will have to leave for war,” she said. “I hope for Kiara’s sake that you’re right.”

Jonmarc folded her into his arms, holding her close against him. Even dressed for court, the scent of her herbs and potions clung to her, a spicy, earthy scent. Her hand slipped up over his shoulder. He’d left the mail shirt back in his room, and her touch against the bruises from the fight made him wince.

“In all the excitement yesterday, I never took care of your shoulder.”

“It’s nothing.”

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Carina slipped her hand inside the neckline of his shirt. Her magic eased the pain of the deep bruises and pulled muscles from the battle. Jonmarc realized how much he’d hungered for her touch.

“Last night, when you were healing Harrtuck, I felt something—the way you touched my mind.”

Carina looked away and stepped out of his arms, as if his words had struck a nerve. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without permission.”

“When you healed with Tris and Car‐roway—was it like that, too?” The words tumbled out before Jonmarc could stop himself and he felt instantly chagrinned, knowing how petty and jealous he sounded, yet desperate to know.

“No,” she said, and Jonmarc was surprised at how deeply he felt relieved. “I just thought it only fair that you know.”

“Know what?”

“Know what it really means to be close to a healer.” Jonmarc heard sadness and fear in her voice. “Some men are afraid to take a healer as a lover. They say we steal souls.”

Jonmarc stepped up behind Carina and gently turned her to face him. “I’m not afraid,” he said.

“You can’t steal something that’s already been given to you.” He kissed her hard, surprised at the fervor with which she returned it. He let his hand slip down from her shoulder to cup her breast, and she did not pull away. Emboldened, he moved to the lacing of her bodice, and was surprised and pleased to feel her fingers working at the lacing of his trews.

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The thick Noorish carpet was soft and warm in front of the fire as he drew her down with him.

He had thought to move slowly, that she might be inexperienced, but he found that her hunger, her need, matched his own. Jonmarc knew her touch well as a healer. Now her hands moved across his skin as a lover, and he discovered how her gift could be used in much more pleasant ways. She met his eyes, and in that instant he felt the brush of her mind against his in an embrace as intimate as the twining of their bodies. If this is soul‐stealing, then let it last forever.

Later, when they lay together by the warmth of the fire, Carina giggled and lifted her head from his shoulder. “I guess now you’ll have to keep your word to Donelan and make an honest woman of me!”

“Don’t you remember what I told you about what it’s like out in the villages, away from court?

An offer of marriage made and publicly accepted—”

“Can’t get much more public than at the wedding of a king.”

“—a token gift and an oath,” he said, touching the shevir that glistened on her wrist. “And then, to act on the commitment…”

“So you’re telling me that we’re married?”

“Handfasted. As married as most folks get out in the real world. We can make a ritual wedding when we get to Dark Haven. I suspect Gabriel’s got it all planned.” He let his finger trace the silver strands of the shevir. “Lady Vahanian.”

Carina smiled. “I like that.”

He gave a wicked grin and let his hand slide down to her belly. “Perhaps we shouldn’t wait long 218

for that wedding. You might be racing Kiara for a baby.”

Carina blushed and looked down. “Healers can control those things,” she murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want—”

“A family?” he finished for her. “I’m thirty years old, Carina. Time to settle down. I want a family.

Our family. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

Carina’s grin was mischievous. “There’s no hurry.”

Jonmarc pulled her close, losing himself in the warmth of her embrace, the dusky scent of her hair, and the magical nearness that slipped inside his thoughts, making everything whole.

Jonmarc, Carina, and Gabriel left Shekerishet for Dark Haven the next evening. Gabriel’s carriage took them as far as Ghorbal, where the snows grew deep and the best roads ended. From Ghorbal, they made the mountain crossing on horseback. On the far side of the mountains, an elaborate sleigh awaited them, and vayash moru stood ready to take the horses to shelter.

Carina was grateful for the relative comfort of the sleigh. She huddled in the heavy furs, pulling her thick cloak tightly around herself. Even sitting close to Jonmarc, she could not get warm despite the box of hot rocks at their feet. Only Gabriel and their vayash moru driver seemed unconcerned by the bitter cold.

“I swear it’s colder than it was this time last year, when we made the crossing to Principality,”

Carina said, shivering.

“We were lucky. The snows held off until we were at Westmarch. They’re early this year.”

Jonmarc shifted in his seat to draw her closer.

Carina watched the forest slip by around them. “Between Gabriel and the ghosts, I feel safer 219

than the last time we passed this way.” Since Tris had regained the throne, the bandits and highwaymen were gone, halted as much by the restless guardian spirits as by the king’s troops.

“Tris said that once Jared was gone, some of the ghosts still wanted to stay on and guard the roads,” Carina added. “I swear they’re watching us.” She shivered. “Have you seen those wolves?

They’ve been keeping pace with us, just inside the trees. I’m surprised the horses haven’t spooked!”

“The horses are used to vayasb morn and ghosts,” Gabriel replied. “As for the ‘wolves’ they’re friends of ours. Vyrkin.”

Carina wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t argue. “Once we get to Dark Haven, you’ll warm up fast,”

Jonmarc promised. “The vayasb mom might not have much use for the big fireplaces, but once we got them repaired, they definitely heat up a room!”

Gabriel smiled dryly. “That’s one of the few things I still miss about being mortal—how pleasant the warmth from the hearth felt on my hands. The cold doesn’t chill us, but neither does the fire warm us. One of the trade‐offs of immortality.”

They found the inns along the way more crowded and prosperous than during their journey to take back Margolan’s throne. If the innkeepers wondered at their two guests who slept during the day and left at sundown, they said nothing, happy for the coin. Gabriel chose their accommodations, and Carina guessed from his manner with the innkeepers that their companion was well‐known along this route. Where Gabriel spent the days she did not know, but she was sure that the vayash morru had his own secret places.

“It’s hard to shake the feeling that we’re running from someone.” Carina’s voice was nearly lost under the scarf that kept the chill from her face. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad we’re not sleeping in cellars and crypts! But compared to the last time we came this way, it seems odd to travel so openly.”

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“Personally, I’m enjoying the chance for a warm fire and a real bed, and a room we don’t have to share with half a dozen other people.” Jonmarc chuckled. “Nice to be able to pay for it, too, instead of having Carroway barter for food or having to muck out stables.”

They reached Dark Haven twenty‐one days after leaving Shekerishet. Given the deep snows, they had made excellent time. The forest was long behind them though the vyrkin remained, loping at the same speed as the sleigh along the edge of the road. In the moonlight, it was difficult to tell whether the same pair of Vyrkin always accompanied them or whether many shared the duty, but each night when Carina and the others reached a stopping point, the vyrkin howled, as if searching for their fellows.

“There it is. Dark Haven.” Jonmarc pointed to the manor as they reached the top of the hill.

Carina leaned forward to get a better look at her new home. In the bright moonlight, she could make out the main rectangular shape of the great house, surrounded by smaller dependencies.

Two square towers rose a storey higher on each of the front corners. Light shone from the windows in the front of the manor house. Even in the moonlight, the dark stone building seemed commanding and ominous.