Destiny (15 page)

‘Yes, he is extremely handsome.’

‘Well, he only has eyes for you, my dear, and I would suggest you take advantage of that. Perhaps achieve a little jealousy of your own.’ Cook drained her mug noisily. ‘Well, I must get back to my steaming kitchen, my lady. We have the sweet pies and treats to be brought out next —I’m very proud of our marzipan fancies.’ And then she bustled off, with a wave to Lauryn.

Lauryn smiled to herself. Cook was right. If she was going to win Gyl’s attention back, she would not achieve it staring at him like some sad lap-dog. Regent Sylc was showing an uncanny interest in her and what was the harm in returning that interest? None at all, she decided, as she straightened her pale green gown which set off her eyes perfectly.

When she returned to her place, Regent Sylc stood politely once again and without so much as a glance towards Gyl, Lauryn took her seat and immediately fell into conversation with the man from Cipres. The night wore on and their talk became more intimate. At one stage he passed across a piece of candied fruit which had been rolled in sugar. No one, not even the King of Tallinor, missed Lauryn taking the Regent’s outstretched hand and somewhat seductively placing her mouth around the fruit he held, her lips just touching his elegant fingers which he then put into his own mouth to lick off the sugar which still clung to them. And when Sylc asked Lauryn if she cared to join in one of the dances, she readily accepted, making a small jest that he was so tall he might have to hold her off the ground.

They danced several times and not once did Sylc take his violet eyes from her sea-green ones. She held his rapt attention and surprised even herself by how much she enjoyed his attentions. Sylc was devastatingly handsome, a witty and intelligent companion, and his mannerisms were as elegant and fine as his garments, which were tailored from the purest cream silk and dark velvet—a fine catch for any woman.

Lauryn realised several pleasant hours had passed. She was pleased that she had managed to put the King
to one side for this evening and enjoy the company of this splendid man who seemed to have no hankering to share himself around, which made her the envy of most of the eligible women in the room, if not all of them. She had cast a surreptitious glance Gyl’s way only once since her return and found him glaring at her. In reply Lauryn doubled her attentions to the Regent. Gyl would learn tonight that her heartstrings were not to be plucked and then left unplayed. She liked the vision she had conjured and laughed coquettishly at something Sylc whispered in her ear, infuriating the King.

Gyl seethed. He felt like drawing his sword and running the Regent through. How dare he monopolise Lauryn in this manner—and their whisperings, laughter and flirtatious activities were not going unnoticed. This was humiliating, to say the least. He could have sworn Lauryn had felt the same way about him on the day of their ride and picnic. There was no doubting the affection in
that
kiss. Nay, it was not affection —it was much more than that. He had felt her desires—and, dare he say, her love—being returned in that long and passionate embrace.

Gyl had made love to many women in his time; far more than he cared to admit to. He had broken hearts too, but in truth he had never made any promises to these women. Their own desires had forced them to believe that he would be true to them; that, in lying together, they had reached some pact, some agreement of commitment. But not so. Gyl was a known flirt— he
readily admitted it himself and he was happy to carry that dubious honour. His mother had made it painfully clear in recent times that he was never to promise himself to any woman without consulting her. It had made him laugh whenever she put her hands on her hips and threatened him with terrible punishment. Now he understood. She had known he would be king one day, knew he must make an excellent marriage—for the girl he chose was destined to be a queen.

But his mother need not have worried. Gyl felt remote from women. As much as he enjoyed their company and the exploration and touch of their soft mouths on his skin, not once had he felt any connection of love. Herek had once spoken of chemistry. The Prime had admitted it was old man Merkhud, a former physic to King Lorys, and his father before him, who had said that until the humours were right between two people, then the love would never happen. Until that point, it was all lust and heated desires.

What Herek said had made sense to the young Gyl and so he comforted himself with the notion of chemistry when he found himself wondering why no girl could ever touch his heart. And then in a blink this one had…dripping with mud and answering him back—in a manner just short of insolent—she had sparked something in him. And then again in his mother’s private garden, she had fired him up and he had been so taken by the surprise of his feelings he had walked out on her and almost set off an argument between them. He recalled how he had searched her out in the Throne Room when the shocking news of the heir to Lorys was revealed and it was her calm flowing out to him across
the room which had steadied his nerve. Every flick of her golden hair, every casual glance of those gorgeous green eyes, every feisty riposte or gentle grin just hammered another nail of love for Lauryn into his heart—and he had known her such a short time! This must surely be the chemistry of which old man Merkhud had spoken, for Gyl could not help himself. There was no remedy for this powerful feeling; no drug which could alleviate the exquisite pain it brought now to his heart to see her so much as smiling at another.

He would not be able to take it much longer, her continued ignoring of him and her attentiveness to the Ciprean. Gyl had not exactly taken an instant dislike to the man, but within a few hours of his arrival he had loathed the very name Sylc because it was on the lips of every woman in the palace.

As Gyl churned his grumpy thoughts, Cook entered the hall to take some well-deserved applause as the last course was served with sweet wines, bringing with her a crown made from sugar crystal. It was transparent as glass and had been painted with luminous colours to look as if it were made of jewels. It was exquisite. She beamed as her staff presented it to their King, who graciously accepted it and made a toast to the finest head of kitchen Tallinor had ever been fortunate enough to enjoy. Cook bowed low and when she stood, her eyes—ever expressive —cast a severe glance towards the Princess, now once again seated close by him. Her face clouded into the look of reproach which had become very familiar to him over his years of growing up and stealing hot biscuits from her kitchen.

Could that be it?

Could it be that Lauryn was cross with him for favouring the Princess? Well, he had to be courteous to all of his guests, did he not? And perhaps she did not grasp how politically important it was for him to curry favour with all of the monarchs feasting at his table tonight.

He needed to ensure a smooth transition from Lorys to himself as King. He could not risk falling out of favour so early in the piece. Snubbing a Princess was a sure way to disgruntle a King, and risk alienating important and strategic neighbours. But Lauryn would not be thinking along these political lines, he realised. She would be feeling scorned perhaps and no doubt hurt by his inattention. It was true—he had deliberately avoided her gaze. But he needed to tell her that it was the only way he could keep his eyes, filled with unspoken desires, off her. It took all his willpower not to sneak a foot beneath the table to touch hers; or whisper something only she could hear. All he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and kiss her all night long—but not tonight. Tonight he had to play the role of King for all the realms on show at the palace.

Gyl felt sickened by the realisation that she had interpreted his activities tonight as a cooling of his desires for her. It was so far from the truth. He would marry her here and now if only he could. There, it was out! Spoken aloud in his mind, it could not be taken back. He wanted Lauryn for his wife. He needed Lauryn…her strength, her courage, her love. He suddenly could not care less if his mother approved or disapproved. He thought she would hardly consider it
the wisest choice but that would not deter him. He was King after all. He would marry whom he pleased.

How could he put things right? Tomorrow he would find a way. First thing in the morning, he would send a messenger to her chambers requesting a meeting.

As the coronation feast and its entertainment drew to a close, Orlac kissed Lauryn’s hand and then held her gaze steadily. His strangely violet eyes—an almost impossible colour—said all that he needed to. She felt her throat go dry. The message which he conveyed in this look was unmistakable, even to a maiden.

‘Thank you for this evening,’ she said. She felt her cheeks burning.

‘I feel the pleasure was all mine,’ he offered graciously, not yet letting go of the hand he had so recently kissed. She could feel his cool skin against hers. What was happening here? ‘In fact I believe I may have been too greedy tonight…perhaps I have kept you from the other guests,’ he added.

Lauryn could not help it; the truth was she felt immensely flattered. When she had set out to teach Gyl a lesson earlier in the evening, she had had no idea that her flirtations might lead her to where she now found
herself. She had to admit, in spite of deliberately provoking it for her own ends, that she had genuinely enjoyed Regent Sylc’s dashing company. Everything about him was cultured and sophisticated; any other woman would be falling into his arms. And yet there was something about the intensity of his interest in her; something curious about him she could not quite put her finger on. She felt sure her time spent with him this night had achieved her original goal—she could feel Gyl’s wrath and that was satisfying. But now she had the Ciprean all but tumbling her into bed. And what scared her more than anything this night was that his intentions did not shock her. In fact, she would have to show considerable willpower to resist him.

She decided to tell the truth, perhaps naively hoping it would help to work things out. ‘Actually, you have been something of a saviour tonight. I don’t know many of these people…none, in fact. The King —well, he is a friend—but he has been otherwise engaged.’

‘I noticed,’ he said, betraying no expression.

‘Yes…well, your company tonight has been extremely welcome and I have enjoyed myself.’ She hoped that might bring a gracious close to the evening’s proceedings and knew her inexperience with men was now glaring.

Orlac’s gaze intensified. In spite of the dozens of people milling around and saying their goodnights, Lauryn felt there was suddenly no one else in the room but the pair of them. It was as though the Regent had pulled her with him into some sort of private cocoon. She felt a sense of breathlessness within the powerful hold he suddenly had over her.

In her distraction, she tried to pinpoint what it was that bothered her about him. Staring into the curiously coloured eyes she was reminded for just an instant of her father. An odd comparison perhaps, but he too had eyes of such intense colour that if you had not looked upon them with your own, you would not have been able to picture their vibrancy nor, she believed, could one expect to see them ever repeated in any other face. Her father’s were of a colour to remark upon, and so was the colour of Sylc’s—a dark and yet somehow brilliant violet.

And in that moment of wonder she saw something in Sylc she had seen briefly in her own father. It was not merely the colour of the eyes which was similar—it was their vulnerability. There was a sorrow lurking behind those bright eyes, that brilliant smile and the smooth manners. The same sort of hurt she had seen in her father. His grief was over her mother—or so she thought—and she tried to imagine what had caused the same haunted look in Regent Sylc.

She faltered, drew back her hand, and the spell was broken. She was aware of all the people in the hall again, and particularly aware of a pair of royal eyes burning into the back of her head. It was time to make her exit.

‘I bid you farewell, Regent.’ She made a move to leave.

‘Not farewell I hope, Lady Lauryn, just goodnight perhaps.’

She nodded, smiled demurely and departed the hall as fast as she could, relief flooding through her.

In his chambers, as a small fire burned cheerily to warm the cool rooms, Orlac paced. He felt disturbed enough to unleash his powers now and bring this whole castle down around King Gyl of Wytton. The girl had unnerved him. What was it about her which tugged so strongly at him? Juno’s insight was keen. How had she phrased it?
Your own idea of perfect
—that’s right—and then she had gone on to describe none other than the Lady Lauryn, surely? Her description of
petite, almost fragile looking
fitted perfectly…he ticked off all the other points in his head, even the comment about her temper. He had noticed she was quick to fire, especially when she had felt slighted by the King and excused herself. Orlac was now certain Juno had seen a vision of this woman.

It was meant to be, then.

He had not realised he had been airing his thinking aloud and nearly cursed himself when Dorgryl joined his thoughts as though continuing a conversation.

Well claim her, then.

Orlac scowled.
Throw her over my back and ride off into the night with her—is that what you mean?

Something like that.
His uncle waited. When Orlac offered no further resistance but plonked himself heavily into a chair, he continued.
It’s perfect, boy! Think about this. You had in mind razing Tallinor to the ground, when in fact you can be far more subtle and disable the Tallinese King by stealing the object of his desires. I do so enjoy sophisticated intrigue. To humble a proud man by so insightful a move as taking what he most wants is so much more brilliant than just beating him on the field, so to speak.

What makes you think he’ll care a hoot?

Oh, I think he will. I think our King of Tallinor has set his heart on making Lauryn his Queen. I believe he will give chase and we can lead him and his soldiers a merry dance. We can belittle him and humiliate him and if it still pleases, we let you go about systematically destroying the Kingdom behind his back.

He paused, giving Orlac time to think about this.

You mean
literally
steal her?

Well, I don’t believe she’ll leave willingly.

I want her.

More than Tallinor?

It was a clever shift. Orlac felt trapped. No, he could not say he wanted her more than the demise of Tallinor, but if he was honest, Tallinor’s destruction did not intrigue him as much as this woman.

No. Tallinor can wait. My desires cannot.

Then she shall be yours, nephew. We can take her back to Cipres and you can make her the slave to your every desire, if you so choose.

What of Xantia?

What of Xantia! She is a pawn…nothing more. But she is cruel too; she will enjoy the intrigue as much as you.

Orlac’s thoughts refocused.
There’s something about Lauryn,
the god mused.
Irrespective of how much I desire her, there is another factor I can’t pinpoint.

I think I can,
his uncle said, the slyness back in his voice.

Tell me.

The deep chuckle made him feel anger and the Colours within him pulsed.

Steady, boy. I will tell you what I suspect.
He laughed again and Orlac hated him.
I’m guessing now because I have no proof other than what I can see through your eyes. You have never seen Alyssa Qyn but let me assure you that the Lady Lauryn you wish for yourself is the spitting image of Gynt’s Alyssa.

You lie!

I have nothing to gain by lying to you on this. It was when you kissed her hand, and looked deep into her eyes.
He sensed Orlac was about to fly into a rage.
Wait! Now listen to me. Lauryn mentioned Flat Meadows. Even you picked that up. I suspect that she could be the daughter of Torkyn Gynt and Alyssa Qyn. I can’t confirm it but I know he has children and that they have returned to Tallinor. Lauryn resembles Alyssa too much not to be related.

My niece!
Orlac roared.

Hush…let’s not wake the palace. I too need convincing. Call for a messenger now. Where is that servant of ours?

Orlac walked to the door and pulled it open. Outside, a man, clearly from the Exotic Isles, wearing the colourful costume of the nomadic tribes, bowed low. ‘How may I serve, Regent Sylc?’

‘Ah, Titus, fetch a palace page immediately.’

‘At once, sir,’ Adongo said, bowing low again.

Orlac closed the door and waited.

Where did you find him?
Dorgryl asked, thinking of the dark man outside.

He was amongst the palace servants. Juno picked him for me; said he was discreet and obedient. Perfect for this trip.

He looks at us strangely—as though he knows something.

You imagine things, Dorgryl.

There was a soft knock and Orlac admitted a young page, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Fortunately he had the presence of mind to bow, despite his fatigue.

‘Sir, my name is Ypek, I am a messenger. How can I help you?’

‘I wish you to take a message to the Lady Lauryn’s rooms.’

‘Yes, sir. Shall I wait outside whilst you write it?’

‘No, that won’t be necessary.’

Orlac moved to a very beautiful carved desk and picked up a quill. He dipped it into the inkpot and appeared to scrawl something on a parchment. Then he looked up, a puzzled expression on his face.

‘The Lady Lauryn…what is her family name? I wish to address her correctly.’

The lad was caught unexpectedly and found himself halfway through a yawn when the Ciprean made this query. He quickly composed himself. ‘Her family name is Gynt, sir.’

‘Ah good, as I thought,’ Orlac said, amazed at how angry he suddenly felt.

And rising on the crest of that anger was a red mist which overtook Orlac without warning. Suddenly it was Dorgryl’s voice which spoke.

‘Come here, boy.’

Ypek obediently walked over to the Regent and felt the cold, hard blade puncture his throat. He died without even the chance to cry out his surprise.

Dorgryl disappeared and Orlac was left panting and
breathless from the sensation but also from his own rage.

Wrap him in the rug before his blood stains the room,
Dorgryl commanded
.

In a silent fury, Orlac bent and rolled the corpse as instructed. Then he stood and breathed deeply before speaking.
If you ever do that again, Dorgryl, I will end my life. I will not give you this warning again. You will be forced to live within a mortal’s body for eternity —I’m sure that would only marginally improve on life in the Bleak. Hear my words, and heed them.

Now Dorgryl sounded sulky.
Well, you wouldn’t have done it, and the messenger would have become a liability.

What does it matter? I don’t care how many come after us. They can die at one push of my mind. Don’t interfere again.

Orlac opened the door. Once again Adongo bowed as his orders were given. ‘I want three horses saddled. We leave immediately.’

Adongo showed nothing on his face. ‘Your belongings, sir…the rest of our staff—should I stir them?’

‘No, I wish to leave immediately. Our stuff can be brought with the rest of our people who can leave tomorrow. I will meet you in the bailey.’

‘May I ask about the need for a third horse?’

‘No, you may not—go about your business.’

‘At once, sir.’

Lauryn heard the tap at her door. She felt relieved. At last. Gyl had come and they could straighten out their
gripes. She knew once he kissed her she would forgive everything and surely he could not hold a grudge when he discovered it was only his love she sought. She pulled on a silken robe, smiling that her night attire was rather sheer, which Gyl would find more than just amusing. Lauryn opened the door a crack and was shocked to see Sylc standing by it.

‘Regent! It is late…you cannot visit me now.’

‘I must talk with you. Please.’

Orlac was still burning with the anger of Dorgryl’s recent killing of the lad and the discovery of who this woman was—it made little difference to his need, of course, he still wanted her…and he was suddenly in no mood to be resisted.

‘No sir, I cannot permit you to enter my room at this hour. What would people think?’

She looked deliciously tousled from her bed but clearly she had not slept…perhaps had even been hoping for a late-night visitor and with regret Orlac realised it was not he she had hoped might come calling. He melted through the door and appeared behind her. She noticed him disappear from her limited gaze through the crack in the door and opened it further to see where he could have got to.

‘Lauryn,’ he called.

She swung around in shock, slamming the door closed in her movement. ‘How…how in the Light did you do that?’ Her face was pale and scared now.

‘Things are not always as they seem,’ he said, sagely. ‘I have come for you.’

‘Come for me? What are you talking about? How did you get into my room?’

‘Magic,’ he said, and used a spike of it now, directed towards her.

She collapsed and he caught her before she hit the floor unconscious. He smiled as he threw her over his shoulder, recalling his conversation with Dorgryl, who was mercifully silent throughout these proceedings. And then he flung open her wardrobe and grabbed a few items, including a stout pair of boots, which he tossed into a cloth bag and also shouldered.

He pushed with his Colours and Lauryn, still slung, a dead weight, became invisible. Orlac left her room and made his way from the southern tower towards the bailey. He encountered only two guards during this journey as the palace slept, and claimed to their expected enquiry that he was peckish. The guards said he’d always find something simmering in the pot in Cook’s kitchen. He thanked them and moved swiftly on, trying not to give the appearance of being burdened.

Outside, Adongo waited with three horses.

‘Take this bag and tie it onto one,’ Orlac said, slinging Lauryn’s bag towards his man.

Adongo deftly caught it. He could feel the thrum of magic but could not work out what was going on. He could also feel Lauryn’s presence close. Was she in trouble? He did not want to leave her but he had no idea what his master had in mind tonight, and the nagging feeling that Lauryn was somehow with him would not leave. He spent the next few moments trying to absorb his sense of her being nearby. How could this be? She was sleeping in her chambers. But he could not linger. Adongo made the decision that for the purposes of his disguise he must go along with his master’s wishes for
now. If he found they were travelling too far from Lauryn this night, he would contrive a way to make his escape and get back to her.