Firestorm (5 page)

***

"I tell you true, Marissa," Raina said the next morning, as they made their way through the palace corridors to the meeting with King Falkan, "I cannot work with the monk. It's as simple as that, no more, no less."

"And I say again," her friend persisted, shooting her a worried glance, "it's not that simple. You agreed yesterday to work with him." She grabbed Raina by the arm and pulled her to a halt. "Exactly what happened between the two of you last night? Did he say something to offend you?"

"He said nothing to offend me. And the matter of last night is closed. Do you hear me, Marissa? Closed!"

Raina jerked her arm from Marissa's grasp and glanced out the long window that faced onto the huge palace courtyard. People bustled about, some hurrying to household tasks, others self-importantly climbing the bank of steps that led up to the entry hall, intent on some sort of royal business.

All so normal, so commonplace, Raina mused like it had been yesterday and in all the days before. But nothing would be normal or commonplace to her anymore. Not after what she'd seen and experienced last night.

The confirmation of the rumors about Tremayne's supposedly unnatural powers was unsettling, but Raina had traveled the Imperium and could adapt to unusual beings and their unique abilities. She didn't particularly like teaming up with a man who might well be her better in warrior skills, but in time she would find some way around even his greater powers.

No, it wasn't his prowess with the blade that unsettled her and led to her sudden change of heart regarding joining him on the mission to Incendra. It was the strange and frightening emotions he'd stirred. Emotions like concern, protectiveness, and, worst of all, attraction.

Raina shuddered in revulsion. Attraction? For a man? Perhaps she'd misinterpreted her feelings. Perhaps it was but an admiration for a perfectly honed and superbly healthy body. She was a warrior, trained to respect her enemy, to assess him for his weaknesses as well as strengths so as to assure her own eventual triumph over him. And the monk Teague Tremayne, as exposed as nearly every millimeter of his body had been to her, was magnificent in every way.

Perhaps admiration was indeed all it truly was. But then why had she almost cried out in distress when he'd stabbed himself? And why had she reached out to him when he'd finally turned his face to her and she'd seen the terrible pain etched there?

Those questions, more than anything else, haunted Raina. She'd felt his pain, recognized it as so very similar to her own. The kind she'd carried deep inside ever since—

With a vicious wrench, Raina recalled her thoughts to the present. Nothing was served by wallowing in a morass of self-pity or regret. She'd finally taken control of that seething sense of impotence when she'd made the decision yesterday to return to Incendra and set the injustice to rest at last. But she could not return with this monk.

There was a greater danger in Teague Tremayne than in continuing to live with the memories of Incendra. Raina didn't know why she knew it; she just did.

She forced a smile. "Forgive me if I seemed a bit harsh a few seconds ago," she said instantly remorseful for the hurt she'd most evidently caused her friend. "I-I just don't want to . . . talk . . . about last night. Not quite yet, anyway. There's still too much to sort through."

"He didn't touch or hurt you, did he? That's all I want to know."

"Do you imagine me gone soft and helpless in the past few cycles?" Raina tossed her long braid off her shoulder and laughed. "No, sweeting, he didn't touch or hurt me." Not physically, at any rate, she added silently, torn once again by her conflicting emotions. "We didn't even meet, if the truth be told. I just . . . saw him."

Marissa's sudden look of interest gave Raina warning of how her words could well be misconstrued. She flushed. "It's not what you think," she muttered.

The chestnut-haired woman cocked her head, a teasing glint dancing in her eyes. "And how do you know what I'm thinking?"

"Never mind." Raina made an impatient motion with her hand. "King Falkan awaits us. We should be going."

"Indeed we should." Marissa strode out. "Brother Tremayne should be there, too." She cast Raina a surreptitious look. "He must give the king his answer this morn."

She had known she must meet the monk sooner or later, but suddenly Raina fervently wished it was later. Much later. No good was served, however, in revealing her reluctance to her already too perceptive friend. Though Raina could be as inscrutable as a stone statue when it suited her, she'd spent too many cycles in close friendship with Marissa to hide much from her for long.

"It matters not to me," she replied tersely as she walked along. "I told you before that I won't work with the monk. The king will have to take either him or me, and find another Incendarian to fill the second position."

Marissa shrugged. "Have it your way. I learned long ago not to argue with you when you get that obstinate look on your face."

"Obstinate? I'm never obstinate," Raina cried outraged. "I just know my own—" Her voice faded as they rounded a corner and she noted the monk standing but fifteen meters away, outside the closed doors of the royal reception hall. A stout doorman, garbed in the shimmering finery of his office, guarded the portals.

Raina's steps slowed. The monk, alerted to their presence by the sound of their footsteps, lifted his gaze from what looked to be an intent inspection of the tiled floor. Raina's breath caught once more in her throat.

Ice-blue eyes the color of a clear mountain stream locked with hers—eyes that assessed her dispassionately, then lowered once more to the floor. A surge of irrational anger filled Raina. How dared he discount her so quickly and with such lack of interest, when even the most fleeting memory of him last night set her own pulse to racing!

She was a warrior, curse it all! She deserved respect and consideration for that, if for nothing else. "The arrogant slime worm," she muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?" Marissa glanced at her. "I could've sworn I heard—"

"It doesn't matter. I can handle him."

Marissa shot her a disbelieving look. "Do you want me to introduce you, since you've supposedly never met?"

"No." Raina's reply was swift and terse. "There's no need for you to stay. You said Brace awaited you. I'm quite capable of dealing with this monk and the king."

"Ef, maybe I'd better stay." Marissa drew to a halt. "There are times when your blunt approach tends to . . ." Her words died and she looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Tends to offend, to anger, and irritate?" her friend smilingly supplied.

"Yes, if you must know the truth."

Raina chuckled. "Have no fear, sweeting. I haven't been leader of the Sodalitas for the past eight cycles without learning the proper time and place for my bluntness. I find, though, that a straightforward approach generally works well with males. They're not particularly known for their ability to perceive subtleties."

Marissa's mouth quirked wryly. "Well, be that as it may, have a care with the king. According to Brace, he's none too tolerant of rebellious or uncooperative subjects of late."

"No, I'd imagine not," Raina admitted. "And, as little as I think of the man personally, he has good reason to be concerned. The Volans are a grave peril to us all." Her friend took her hand and gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze. "I know you'll make the right decision."

Raina smiled grimly. "Yes, I will. You can be certain of that." She squeezed Marissa's hand briefly, then pulled away. "Go. Your husband awaits, and I've a monk to make the acquaintance of."

Marissa nodded and stepped away. "Good fortune," she silently mouthed, before turning and striding back the way they'd come. Raina watched until she disappeared around the corner. Then, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she turned and walked over to Teague Tremayne.

Teague watched her approach. Curiosity, for a moment, overcame his monkish discipline. The woman was quite tall and slender, and she moved with a sure, athletic grace. A warrior woman, if he wasn't mistaken.

His glance slid down her body once more, taking in her dark auburn hair in its severe braid, her sparkling green eyes, her fair skin, and the sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Teague found the freckles endearing, softening her in some inexplicable way. She wouldn't like to know that, though, he realized with a surprising surge of insight. She would pride herself on her warrior's prowess and presence.

He didn't know how he knew this about her, or why he even cared, but the certainty of the knowledge unsettled him. Teague had never let anyone get too close to him in any way, not even his fellow monks, save for the former abbot who'd died five cycles ago, carrying Teague's secret to the grave. And he certainly had no desire whatsoever to become attached to a female.

She pulled up before him, dressed in a belted green, long-sleeved tunic, black knee-high boots, and black breeches. The scent of her wafted to him on an eddy of air. Teague's nostrils flared, unconsciously inhaling her unsettling essence of fresh spring breezes and the hauntingly sweet valleria flower.

His instinctive, primal response startled him. In all the cycles since he'd left Incendra, he'd never felt any stirrings toward a female. True, he'd found many attractive, but no more so than a beautiful animal or an exquisitely wrought sculpture or a glorious sunset. But this female . . .

Well, there was just something about her.

She extended her arm in an Imperial greeting. "My name is Raina, leader of the Sodalitas of the planet Moraca. I'm supposedly the other half of this little twosome headed to Incendra."

He glanced down at her outstretched arm and buried his hands even deeper within the folds of his sleeves. "Please forgive what may seem to be my rudeness, but it isn't permitted for me to touch flesh with you. I have taken a vow of perpetual—"

"Chastity." Raina finished the sentence for him and let her hand fall to her side. "Nonetheless, it was but a common courtesy, not meant as an initial overture of seduction," she continued dryly. "You monks are rather full of yourselves, if you imagine every woman schemes to take you to bed."

"I am sorry if you see it so." Teague clamped down on his exasperation and forced a bland smile to his lips. Yes, there was definitely something about this female, and he wasn't so sure he liked whatever it was. "I meant no discourtesy."

"No," Raina muttered, "I don't imagine you did. It matters little, at any rate. I cannot work with you on this mission. Either you must give it up, or I. One way or another, I'm not the partner for you."

Her refusal intrigued him. He didn't want to work with her, either, but preferred that the rejection had come from him. He arched a dark blond brow. "Indeed? And why not?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Raina's mouth twisted. "I'm a Sodalitas. I don't particularly like, and definitely don't trust, men."

He smiled. "It seems our needs run parallel. I cannot work with females. It goes against my vows."

"Fine." Raina nodded her agreement. "Then all that's left is to inform King Falkan of our decision."

At that moment, the doorman, signaled by the loud, sonorous clang of a gong, turned and swung open the two tall doors. The intricately carved robur-wood panels parted to reveal the cavernous depths of the royal reception hall and the dais whereupon sat the king. Beside him stood Teran Ardane.

Teague glanced down at Raina, who, even at her unusual height, was still a head shorter than he. "Shall we go, femina? The king awaits."

Raina nodded and not even pausing for him to join her, headed out. Teague eyed her retreating back for an instant, then hurried after her. A cool head, a clear intent, a heart calm and gentle, he grimly intoned, prevail over all things, at all times . . .

This time, however, the ancient saying failed to ease the rising irritation stirring within him. What was wrong with him that a complete stranger, one he'd met but a few minutes ago, could unsettle him so easily? Perhaps he was more distraught over his dilemma regarding Incendra than he'd first imagined.

They drew up together before the royal throne and bowed. "Rise," King Falkan said. "I await the outcome of your decisions. Even now, time is passing, and each day we squander brings the Volans further and further into the Imperium."

His gaze shifted to Teague. "Well, Brother Tremayne? Have you decided to join the mission?"

"If you have need of me, Majesty, then yes, I will go to Incendra." Teague took a step forward. "But I cannot travel with a female. I have taken a vow to shun them and I cannot break it."

Falkan smiled. "In most cases, I would never ask such a sacrilege of you, though I must admit," he said, his gaze skimming Raina, "that a femina as fetching as this one would tempt any man, be he vowed or not. But this is one case where an exception must be made. Step closer, Brother Tremayne. I have something to show you."

He pulled a small scriptura pad from his sleeve and handed it to Teague. "I anticipated just such a problem and contacted Abbot Leone of the Monastery of Exsul. He has granted you a temporary dispensation from all your vows. He has also," Falkan added slyly, "ordered you to cooperate with me to the fullest extent."

Teague accepted the metal pad with the computer generated-message from his abbot, a cold fear gripping his heart. There was no way out of it, then. He must obey, or risk disobeying not only the king, but his abbot—breaking his sacred vow of obedience to him. But to travel and live and work in close quarters with a female for weeks, maybe months!