Hers to Command (3 page)

“
Thank you. I…” The elder closed his eyes and rested his head against the chair back. “Thank you.”

Opening h
is eyes, Patricio again sought out Ari’s gaze and held it. “Conte DeTano, you are the result of the best of Verdantia's blood. Fleur Constante is likewise. The
L’anziano
ask, once more, that you please reconsider your stance on…”

“
Stop pushing your agenda, old man.” Quiet menace laced Ari’s voice. “You have as much of me as you are going to get. Find another stud to breed on your precious princess.”

Patricio shrank into his robes and braced himself on the arms of his chair.

“I need two hours,” Ari continued. “After I bathe and rest, I expect her to be in the
Chambre Cristalle
ready to perform the
Great Rite
.”

He
left the door open behind him, resisting the urge to slam it.

* * * * *

Pulling her waist-length blond hair out of her way, Principessa Royale Fleur Constante, settled back into the deep satin cushions she had rearranged for the thousandth time. She tried to concentrate on the pages before her but her eyes refused to focus on the elaborately lettered lines. She had been lying there for hours trying to memorize a particular incantation to revitalize a small
diaman
crystal for one of the
Lesser Rites
.

Her
previous day had been a grueling, tense ordeal with the city’s governing council. At the end of a barely civil meeting that had run late into the night, she had retreated into her apartments. Still unsettled, she had tried to lose herself in the orderly calm of the
Libre de Diamantorre
.

This time, t
he normally comforting rituals could not compete with the hysteria building outside the palace walls. The Haarb’s sixteen-month siege was taking its toll on the populace and its governors and they were demanding to see the king. No matter how competent, his twenty-one year old daughter was an unwelcome substitute.
Father, I desperately need you to be well
.
I can’t keep your secret much longer.

The knock at her door provided
a welcome interruption to her troublesome thoughts. Sari, her childhood nurse, now her personal attendant, peered around the door.

“
My Lady, I am sorry to disturb you at such an early hour but there is a message from Elder Patricio.”

“
It’s all right, Sari.” Fleur shoved the heavy volume off her lap and stood up, taking the envelope from Sari’s extended hand.

Rip
ping open the note's seal, she read the scrawling message. Written in Elder Patricio's own hand, it verged on illegible.

“
Your Royal Highness, the day we prayed would never come is upon us. The diamantorre is failing. I desperately hoped there would be more time to prepare you for the Great Rite. It is not to be. I beg you, come now. Verdantia needs you.”

Patricio

As the meaning of what she laboriously deciphered reached her consciousness, her knees refused to hold her. The bed squeaked, protesting her rapid landing.

“
Sari.” Fleur’s eyes sought her beloved nurse. “We must prepare for the
Great Rite
. Lay out my robe and make a bath ready. I studied night and day for three years, but I never thought this day would come.” She couldn’t stop her fingers from twisting her bed linens into tighter and tighter coils. “This was my duty, to be prepared. Yet, I am not ready.”

Her
heart tried to pound out of her chest. Her vision grayed slightly and her tongue worked to moisten the inside of her mouth. Her eyes held Sari’s. Fleur gave a slight shake to her head. “I don't think I can do this.”

“
Oh my sweet pet!” Sari moved to the bed and gathered Fleur into her generous bosom. Sari’s softness pillowed her cheek and Fleur inhaled the comforting smells of childhood, the starch of Sari’s dress, a hint of the
citri
soap Sari used.
I would give anything to be that child again.

“
You amaze me with your strength. My own, you can do this.”

She wished she had Sari’s confidence.
“Sari, the
Great Rite
is not like…like…dealing with the
lesser magicks
. It concentrates the use of energy—potentially lethal energy.”
There is a reason it takes seven years of study to attempt it. I have studied only three.

Sari
tightened her hold, then pushed away to look at Fleur. She raised her hands and Fleur felt their warm clasp hold her face gently, a familiarity she hadn’t felt in years. Sari held her eyes with a directness that erased the difference in their ages and rank.

“
I never lie to you, my own. I will not do so now. It will not be easy, but I do not doubt for a moment what the outcome will be. You are a strong woman.”

Sari
dropped one hand, patting her cheek with the other. “Come now, my Lady, we do not possess an abundance of time. Let's make you beautiful for your
magister
.”

* * * * *

An hour later, Fleur stood before the ritual chamber door gowned in a robe of fine violet linen. Small golden cords tied the robe together at the top of her shoulders. Her blond hair spread out freely to cover her back and draped her shoulders with its fine, silky length. Inhaling deeply and raising a shaky hand, she rapped sharply on the ritual chamber's door.

“
Enter.”

She
recognized the raspy voice of Elder Patricio. She opened the heavy, wood-paneled door and entered the large, sumptuous chamber. The air tickled her nostrils, heavy with the scent of spices and the aphrodisiac
cinnagin
. The early morning sunlight streaming through tall windows spaced on three sides of the chamber washed the pale stone walls, warming them to an inviting gold.

Elder Patricio
, almost lost in his voluminous robes of office, slumped in a heavily carved wooden chair. She held him in great affection and thought he might feel some for her as well. He held a small, exquisitely jeweled box in his lap. As she approached him, he held her eyes in a solemn, apologetic gaze.

“
Please forgive this old man for not standing in your presence, your Royal Highness. I have been unwell.”

When she
softly exclaimed and made to take his hand, he brusquely shrugged her off with a light swat. “Don’t. Don’t. I don’t want sympathy.”

She
pulled her hand back. “As you wish.” She smiled slightly. “No sympathy.”

“
Your Royal Highness, I am unable to express the depth of my sorrow that we should come to this. I want you to know, my Lady, I summoned the most capable seventh-level
magister
this planet has ever known.” A pained expression crossed the elder's face. “There will be no repeat of that last catastrophe.”

She shrank inwardly.
“You are speaking of
Magistra
Felicity and
Magister
DeGregio. I could end up like her, couldn’t I?”

Fleur
paced the floor, crossing her arms and hugging herself, shuddering. She could still hear the guttural grunts and begging sobs echoing down the palace halls near Felicity’s chambers—the insane, gibbering laughter followed by animalistic screams when some palace guard or courtier forgot himself enough to lie with her.

“
Magister
deGregio survived the rite unscathed while Felicity lost her mind. It is vastly unfair.”

Elder Patricio
gazed at her anxiously. “I have failed you. I intentionally left you ignorant about the
Great Rite
. I had hoped…” He shook himself and straightened. “Now is a poor time to amend my shortcomings but indulge me, your Highness. Listen carefully to my words. You should know what to expect.” He smiled hesitantly. “You will want a chair, my dear.”

She
pulled a softly cushioned seat next to Patricio, sat and regarded him quietly.

The grief on his face surprised
her and she again placed a hand on the elder in comfort. This time he allowed her hand to remain.

“
I am so sorry, my dear,” he whispered.

She
petted his arm. “Neither of us thought it would come to this, Elder. I forgive you.”

“
You shouldn’t.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “You are well educated and practiced in our
Lesser Rites
.” His voice softened. “You have been an amazing student.”

S
he smiled her thanks but he looked away.

“
My dear, there is no comparison between the
Lessers
and the
Great Rite
. In the
Lessers
, those every-day rites that light our candles and braziers, that heal our wounded and till our soils, the
diamantorre
need glow only
colore rosso
prior to orgasm. The celebrants recite the energy-focusing mantras themselves and the rites are not performed in the
Chambre Cristalle
.”

Her unease deepened at
Patricio’s increasingly strident voice.

“
In the
Great Rite
,
cinnagin
violently escalates sexual arousal. The sigil crystals feed off this energy. Always, the
diamantorre
feed more heavily from the female partner, while the
magister
must channel the force properly. Regrettably, it is the
magistra
who pays the heaviest toll. It is very important that your
magister
maintain you at the razor’s edge of climax until the sigil radiates the
arcobaleno
, the purest of white lights.”

Patricio
scrubbed his face with his hands. His distress and his agitation pushed her ever closer to outright panic.

“
Once the
Rite
is sufficiently advanced, the energy drain is continual. If your arousal is not maintained, it will affect you mentally. If you should climax before the culmination of the ritual, your
magister
will bring you back up any way he can. It is a sexual hell, your Highness, for male and female.” His voice choked. “If either of you break? The
diamantorre
will not reenergize. The shield wall will fail. Sylvan Mintoth will fall to the Haarb.” He struggled for composure. “You will lose your mind.” He gave a tired sigh. “And you are right. It is quite unfair.”

He dropped his head, running his fingertips over the jewels covering the tiny box in his lap.
“If you are successful,
cinnagin
has a nasty side-effect you should…” His voice trailed off at her harsh gasp.

“
By the gods! Must I know all of this now?”

“
No, no,” he said. “You need not know all of this now.”

S
itting rigidly upright in her chair, she withdrew her thumbs from the holes she had punched in the cushion
. There really is no option. I cannot run away from this when so many have died to defend our planet. I cannot refuse because I am afraid.

She
placed an unsteady hand on his arm. “Elder Patricio.” She met his eyes. “We know I am the last option. You didn’t create this war. You didn’t make the
diamantorre
fail. You did your best. I am the Principessa Royale of Verdantia. This is my duty.”

Elder Patricio
covered her trembling hand with his. “Your Highness, about your
magister
, your partner in this rite, he is extraordinary, truly extraordinary. Trust him. I know this man. His skill is without equal. He will get you through this.”

I hadn’t even thought to question who my partner would be.
Oh, Goddess, not DeGregio!

“
Are you prepared, my dear? We can give you a little more time if it will be useful. Your
magister
is resting from a hard journey and would himself benefit from the additional time.”

What hard journey?
Where did he come from? There are only three seventh-level magisters still alive—DeGregio, DeFlores and DeLorion. The registry notes, “incomplete” by DeLorion.

Pulled from her thoughts
, Fleur responded with a tentative smile. “Thank you, Elder. Perhaps some time alone to compose myself and clear my mind would be good.” She cleared her throat uncertainly. “Who is he?”

“
High Lord DeTano.”

“The commander of our military?
A warlord?” She could not restrain her disbelief.