MOONDOCK (8 page)

No, Melane heard what Tarra tried to make her understand. Wylan would claim her no matter what Melane wanted. There was a chance, a way that she could enter this as an equal…the rites of purity.

Closing her eyes, Melane forced away the ugly memory now clearly embedded in her mind. There was still the soreness, telling of what happened. It was over. What she faced this night held more importance. It meant her life.

Wylan could deny her claim against him. Her knees shook at the thought of how he’d take her announcement. “Doing to him what he plans for me.”

His fury would fill his ocean’s vast expanse. His pride would rear up against her like a ball of fire. If she survived his wrath, Melane held little hope she’d sustain the blow of his expected refusal.

To fall prey to whoever claimed her was something Melane couldn’t allow.

If he betrayed her and refused her claim, somehow she would escape the fate that followed. Not even the well hidden guards about her would stop her flight to freedom.

“No wonder few elamies took the chance.”

Tarra was a brave woman to have faced Wylan’s father. She told Melane how she’d been caught by Cristare outside her father’s gate chasing a pet mog. How scared she had been. And the brutal purity test that followed.

“Thank you Tarra.” The drug left only a vague memory of what transpired and Melane felt grateful. What she still faced scared her beyond thought.

She hadn’t seen Wylan all day. If only she could see what his eyes held for her. The unknown became pure torture.

“Melane?”

She jumped at the voice.

“Child I’m sorry, I should have knocked.”

“It is I that am sorry. I have never felt such apprehension, not even when I went to battle against the hateful Kibras.”

“Have faith in him, Melane. He has too much of his father in him to turn you away. Just remember what I told you. Do not show any fear when the others step in.”

“You are asking me to look as if they please me?” Melane couldn’t keep the distress out of her voice.

“Yes. Oh Melane, you are so naive, I wish I had time to explain things. Just do it, make Wylan believe you could accept another.”

Melane couldn’t believe how the woman spoke about her son. She wanted her to claim him and yet, act as if she didn’t care if he accepted?

The girl’s eyes mirrored all her confusion, leaving Tarra frustrated that their time together was over. It had been all she could do to get Melane to accept her fate as it stood. She knew the girl would try to escape if Wylan refused her, and she worried that maybe she was wrong in making Melane do this. She could get hurt or killed should this fail. Tarra knew her son and her conviction about how he would react to Melane wouldn’t be stilled. “Listen to me. If he even suspects your feelings about his acceptance, he will deny you.”

“But…”

“Please Melane, you have no idea how many times I have seen him turn away from an elamie because she made the mistake of showing him she cared too much.”

Other elamies? A fierce rage soared at the thought, confusing Melane even more. She couldn’t possibly be jealous, berating herself for such a thought.

“Come Melane, we must go. Wylan is in the great hall with his generals.”

“The war?”

“Yes.”

“But should we do this there? I mean, it isn’t exactly the best time.”

How could she tell the girl it was the only time? Wylan had his own plans for the evening. There would be no challenge to delay his claiming of Melane. If Melane didn’t move first she would not have the chance. Besides, should her son disappoint her, his generals were the finest men in Moondock. Melane would at least be claimed by a man of quality.

“There will be no better time.”

~*~

Wylan sensed her presence before the men about him stopped talking.

She looked like a goddess. Dressed in white silk. Knowing the reason for the gown’s obvious statement didn’t detract from the enchantment of her ravishing beauty. The long tight sleeves fell away from her bare shoulders and chest. The shimmering material molded itself enticingly over the full, graceful swell of her exquisite breast. Beneath them a gold braid was tied, letting the gown find its own lines about her sleek ribs and full curved hips. Each step she took through the tall admiring men announced the vitality of the beauty in their midst. Wylan’s fingers flexed in yearning, the way her hair hung in a shiny black rope over her shoulder from the braided crown, played havoc with his male instincts.

Behind her, like a regal entourage, were his mother and her old elamies. Witnesses no doubt to the claim Melane would soon declare. Wylan thought himself prepared for his mother’s manipulations, but seeing the elamie again rocked all his resolves.

Stepping forward to meet her approach was a protective jester that made his jaw grind down. Wylan wasn’t capable of ignoring the meaningful stares that silenced his generals. He had the strongest desire to order them all out of the room, only his position and what all suspected was coming, forbade such an outburst.

Stopping, Wylan let his eyes race over her once again. Bowing slightly in an unexpected show of respect, Wylan knew above all else she deserved this from him. She was after all, a stranger that he brought into their world and was now facing a fate she had no way of escaping. Knowing what he did of her, Wylan didn’t believe she would accept any of this as gracefully as she appeared to be doing. Though one would never expect the turmoil in those aquamarine eyes was anything but the reflection of their jeweled brilliance.

Bestowing Wylan with a proper curtsey, she’d been taught since childhood to give in respect of his station, Melane said a silent thank you when her knees didn’t fail her. She did regret her formal act when her gaze rose, filling with the full sight of his overpowering presence.

The change from his leather hunting briefs was shocking upon her equilibrium. Tight, black satin pants covered the thick muscled legs and thighs, telling her rattled senses about every taunt line of his dominant power. At his iron waist a wide gold sash of metallic threading spanned the corded flatness. About his board chest was a white satin shirt with full flowing sleeves that cut deep, exposing the tight bronzed flesh.

Melane couldn’t make herself look any higher, knowing his eyes held the answer to the question yet unspoken. To voice it, she had no choice except to confront him. Calling on the courage that sustained her in battle, she raised her gaze and faced her destiny.

Black as Moondock’s night upon the waters reflecting the moon, his eyes captured her in their seductive power. Melane felt the rush of familiar weakness seeping into her body. The night heavens couldn’t be as overwhelming nor endless, but it was the reflection of his arrogance that finally brought her own pride forward. As she feared, Wylan was showing her exactly what she would face should she dare defy him.

The devastating promise tore through Melane at a wrenching velocity. In its wake, something took hold of her. Something unyielding, that said she could never let him see how deeply his rejection hurt. No matter what happened, Melane vowed he would never behold what this cost her.

Before her determination could speak out, one of his generals stepped forward.

Wylan forced himself not to move when Majok came to her side.

Melane gave the man a tentative smile. Brown flakes floating on gold instead of black were watching her. The man’s eyes held no less confidence in their striking depths. Her military training judged the man quickly, declaring he would be a worthy opponent. The smooth handsome features gave a hint of the fierce warrior that could come forth in a breath.

“I am General Majok, I don’t believe I have ever seen you before, elamie?”

Chancing a glance at Wylan’s stern features, her chin rose in defiance over the dark warnings his gaze held upon her. Catching Tarra’s nod of approval, Melane prayed the woman was right as she returned her attention to the General.

“I am sure that I, Melane, would not have forgotten if we had met.”

When he raised her hand and turned it over and proceeded to kiss her palm, Melane’s cheeks flushed in rosy heat for what he just implied.

Her breast rose sharply, pressing dangerously against the flimsy material over Majok’s blatant seduction. Was Wylan mad to feel such rage? This was ridiculous, never did an elamie earn his slightest concern for her flirtatious behavior. The burning truth that Melane didn’t compare to the others drove like a blade into his chest.

Before this went any further Wylan stepped forward. Every fiber in his body vibrated under the control he exerted not to reach out and pull her to his side. Where by all the gods she knew she belonged!

Melane almost faltered under the violent rage coming from Wylan’s dagger glare. Tarra’s hand at her elbow was enough warning to make her go on.

“Melane, it would be my pleasure to…”

Wylan cut off Majok’s next words before this went any further. “Majok, do you not have something pressing to attend to?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her surprised gasp over Wylan’s obvious anger. Oh, he was furious. Tarra was right, and the knowledge gave Melane back some of her failing courage.

Majok’s eyes flared dangerously at Wylan, making Melane’s hand touch his arm to break the heated contact. “General, I know how important you must be to be called away. Thank you for sparing me some of your time.”

His eyes softened back to their earthly tint, easing the hard fighting lines in his proud face. “It was a pleasure, Melane.”

To her relief he smiled. “If you should need my services, for any reason, just send a message. I am sure our King will see it is delivered.”

Swallowing her humor over his own dancing eyes, she gave him a respectful curtsey. “Thank you, I won’t forget your offer.”

Tarra was right, it wasn’t as she expected. These Selams were much too civilized, but the man’s meaning came through very clear.

Just as bold as Wylan’s gaze had been to her, Melane met his with a declaration of her own growing confidence. Following Majok’s departure, she let her eyes make contact with many of the admiring glances from his other men. Melane deliberately returned more than few nods with her smile of acceptance for their interest.

Wylan’s patience was breaking new ground. When he reached out to end her maddening display, only the men stepping forward at her defense told him how harsh his touch upon her arm had been.

“King Wylan, is something wrong?”

The imp knew exactly what she’d done. His awareness didn’t settle the blinding fury it wrought.

The vein at his neck was throbbing in a wild beat, reminding her of exactly what Wylan was capable of doing to her.

“Melane, is there a reason for your presence?”

Was he so eager to be rid of her, he was actually forcing her to do it?

For a second Melane lost her concentration.

Was the woman deliberately provoking him, by remaining silent? What was wrong with him? He was angry because she was refusing to speak the words, he but seconds ago, would have thrown up in her gorgeous face!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She couldn’t do this. Melane suddenly wanted only to run from this…from him!

Turning from Wylan, Tarra’s stricken look made her stop, but it was Wylan’s threatening tone and the victory in his parting remark that sent ice up her spine.

“Melane, I will join you…shortly.”

Taking a deep controlling breath she turned slowly back to stare at his retreating back.

“Wylan!”

He stopped and she watched as his shoulders flexed in warning before coming about to face her.

His eyes drove into her own, commanding her to end this now. Her head shook slowly against his seething demands.

“I have come to…exert my rights of purity.” He hated her for this, his eyes flashed in all their blazing rage. She was beyond heeding him. “I, Melane, claim you, King Wylan as my lifemate, as is my right as a pure elamie.”

He stepped towards her in such a menacing way it was all she could do not to bolt. When his fist closed she made her eyes meet his without falling.

“Do you accept me, Wylan?”

Tarra stepped up beside her, the women came around them, but he never took his eyes away from her.

“The elamie called Melane, has passed the purity test, as witnessed by these elamies.”

Two of Wylan’s generals stepped forward to protest the claim. Before they could speak, Wylan’s hand stayed their loyalty.

“Melane is pure, I will not contest the witnesses accounting.”

She couldn’t breathe, waiting for his next words.

“And I accept the elamie called Melane as my life partner, above all others from this night forth.”

Numbed by his acceptance, the dark coldness in his eyes made her head reel. Without thought Melane followed Tarra’s instructions. “I too accept Wylan, King of Moondock and the great ocean, as my life partner…forever.”

The condemning silence hung between them. The rage he held her trapped in, made the air vibrate as if lightening were striking too close.

The deed was done. He accepted her.

Melane knew it was a dark victory. The ache of regret tore at her chest. By all the earthly powers, she feared his hatred more than all his fury for what she just did to him.

“Go with Tarra.”

Biting her lip she held herself back from calling out when he turned his back to her. The cold dismissal sealed all her trembling beliefs.

Each step within the old elamies’ circle seemed to confirm the fear Melane did not allowed herself to voice. Wylan might never forgive her. Stopping at the door, she sought him. As if he could hear her thoughts, his eyes turned and found hers. Silently she asked him why he allowed it?

But, he refused to give the answer her heart desperately needed.

Dangerous Shadows

The marble felt invitingly cool against the noon sun. Leaning against the massive pillar Melane’s longing gaze went out across the glittering blue waters.

“…so free.”

Drawing her gaze away from what was now beyond her reach. “A week? How much longer will you deny I exist, Wylan?”

Not even Tarra’s excuses could camouflage what Wylan was doing. Leaving that very night, he took his troops out beyond the fortress. There had been no war. Melane was grateful for that. It seemed Gallen finally agreed to talk to Wylan after seeing his advance. Whatever the misunderstanding, Wylan defused the fire.

He returned to Moondock two days ago. “But still, you refuse to acknowledge me.”

The truth made her doubt that there had really been any reason for his abrupt departure that fatal night. Oh, he did know she existed. His armed guards were proof that he did not forget she remained in his quarters.

Yes, he would know her desire to flee this place. Why should he care? If she succeeded, he would be relieved of the unwanted burden. He even forbade her from seeing Rolley. Melane’s rage over that discovery could be heard throughout his fine palace. Even Tarra managed to avoid her until she exhausted herself in a violent tantrum. It wasn’t like Melane to give in to such a show of emotions. “Damn you Wylan! Ever since we met you have ignited a fire inside of me I cannot combat. Why won’t you let me go?”

The vibrant blue eyes dimmed to a dusky blue. More than just her heated emotions had shown themselves these last days. With the display of her temper came another more worrisome event.

When she lost her control over Rolley, Melane’s fury rushed through her, turning into a physical anger. Things beyond her reach in the room flew against the wall and crashed. Wylan’s things!

Looking about his chambers, her prison, she closed her eyes over the missing pieces. No one, including Tarra, saw how the destruction came about. Again she fought to still the uneasy quiver over the truth. The power inside her was making itself known in a most demanding way, forcing her to seek answers.

She found that by concentrating she could move objects at her will. After practicing with pillows, Melane tried larger objects. She paled the old servant who came in after one of her rearrangements of the furniture. Melane could actually lift chairs and the bed, without any more effort than a cushion.

There were problems. More than once an object under her concentration flew out of control and bashed up against the wall or tumbled over the slick marble floors. Having nothing else to occupy her isolated hours she kept practicing and learned how to harness the power, making it work by pure thought. The effort became almost a natural part of her, as if she always possessed this gift.

With its ease came other discoveries of her abilities. It appeared as if she opened a long locked door. One that once opened allowed everything to come tumbling out. And like a child with a new toy, Melane played with each new treasure.

The most amazing of her new abilities was to make someone play out a suggestion she silently put in their mind. She tested it on the servant, giving a harmless thought that made her pick up a pillow, throw it across the room, and then ignore the act as if someone else had done the deed. Melane felt terribly naughty, but her excitement soon took hold.

Tarra was her next challenge. Melane wanted to do this without igniting the woman’s suspicions. Wylan’s mother was already aware of Melane’s potential and Melane caught the woman’s knowing gaze on her, more than once, over the odd events these last days. She obviously suspected more than Melane’s temper had been at play.

Melane choose the time carefully. They were having lunch on the balcony. At first she used a small thing. Tarra absently told her one afternoon how she abhorred the succulent sour melons that Melane found so refreshing. Mentally telling the lady she now loved the dreaded fruit, she watched as Tarra took a large satisfying bite from a juicy slice. Shamefully, Melane experimented further, making Tarra leave and change into a blue dress she’d worn the day before. They were harmless suggestions, but they had been her own. It was a powerful feeling to know you could control someone’s mind.

A more startling gift came unexpectedly to Melane.

Longing to be away from the trouble surrounding her, she somehow made it happen. It was similar to the waking dream, but Melane was fully awake and in control of where she or her spirit went. She only used the power twice, because it was an awesome experience. She was more than a little wary of this ability and still unsure of its potential and the dangers…to herself.

Her longing to be outside with the open waters made it happen the first time. She found herself walking among the breaking waves as they rolled wantonly over the warm wet sand. The water felt warm and exciting against her skin, sending joyous tingles all over her as she raced through the foamy water.

At first she felt that maybe she only wished it to be so and imagined the whole experience. When she returned to herself, she found that her dress was dripping wet and her feet were caked with wet clinging sand.

Tarra happened to walk in at that same moment and discovered what Melane had only begun to realize. In stunned amazement the woman walked a full circle around Melane as she stood in the middle of the room dripping all over Wylan’s white fur rug.

Maybe it was Melane’s own astonishment or the lack of incriminating footprints, but Tarra immediately knew what happened.

“Child! Are you alright?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Helping her change, Tarra bombarded her with questions. Melane’s own excitement flowed in the telling, catching Wylan’s mother up in the marvelous accomplishment.

“Please Tarra, I want to try it again.”

“But you mustn’t, what if someone sees you?”

“Can they? No one saw me in the dream.”

Tarra was silent for some moments, while Melane anxiously searched the bright dark eyes, clapping and spinning about when they warmed in conspiring agreement.

“Alright we will test it. I will go to my chambers, you use this power and come to me. I will see you, if I don’t, take something from my dresser and bring it back with you, if you can.”

Pacing in nervous excitement, she waited to give Tarra the time to reach her room. Closing her eyes she willed herself to be in Tarra’s room, blocking all other thoughts and sounds away.

It happened so quickly Melane almost thought it didn’t worked, but she arrived, standing in front of Tarra’s searching eyes.

“Tarra?”

The woman jumped, her hands came out groping at the air. “Melane? I hear you, but I can’t see you. Can you hear me?”

Melane walked up before her. “Yes, I am right in front of you.”

“Touch me.”

She did as she asked by placing her hand on the woman’s flushed cheek.

“Like a fluttering breeze…Melane can you pick up something, my comb?”

Going to the dresser, she lifted the object Tarra stared at, paling the lady.

“Tarra please tell me?”

Breathlessly she answered. “I can see you, like a dreamy vision, not real, but there as a transparent image.”

When Melane released the comb, Tarra sucked in her breath. “You are gone.”

“No I am still here.”

“Try it again!”

Melane went about the room calling to Tarra, each time she took up another object. Holding up one of the woman’s gowns, Tarra seemed more comfortable when she could see her.

“Melane, how do you feel?”

“Like me, like nothing has happened. Only I am here.”

“But are you back in your room, as well?”

“I do not know.”

“I will see. Stay here, and then go back. I will wait there for your return.”

Melane grew increasingly nervous during the wait. The oddest feeling came over her, as if someone was pulling on her. Then it happened. She felt as if she were physically yanked off her feet and thrown backwards.

Melane found herself in her room on the floor, with Tarra hovering over her in a panicky state.

“Melane! Oh dear, what have I done to you? Speak to me.”

“I…I’m alright, just weak.”

Tarra helped her up and over to the bed. “Lie down and rest.”

“What happened?”

“I came in and you were here. I thought you had returned. I didn’t realize my mistake until I touched you.”

When the woman’s words faltered. “Tell me, Tarra, you must.”

“It was like touching…death. You were cold, a shell with no life in your eyes or body. I became frightened and called for you to return.”

“You drew me back, rather forcefully too. I had no control to stop myself.”

“This power needs much caution, Melane.”

“Ah, you are so right Tarra.” Melane had not tried to use it again, promising Tarra she wouldn’t unless she was there to guard her vacant being from an innocent intruder. There had also been the weakness that grew increasingly worse after her return. Tarra used the leaves to revive her. When Melane asked about them, Tarra told her Wylan found them in her things. Shemon must have put them there. Tarra informed her of the other times they were forced to use them. Melane didn’t like how very precious they were to her.

In the waking dreams, Melane lacked control over when they came upon her. These new found powers she did control. Manipulating people and objects took some inner thought, but Melane did not need the leaves to revive her spent strength. Her soft brow tightened. The separation from herself could only be used in the direst of circumstances. The irreplaceable leaves were too valuable to waste on frivolous yearnings.

Melane began to regret not having the full knowledge of her powers. She possessed little inkling how far she could travel away from herself or what the dangers might be.

Fearing for Melane’s safety, Tarra swore them both to silence. She told her there were those in Moondock that would want to use Melane’s gifts for dark purposes, making Melane shutter at the evil possibilities.

Neither of them spoke of it, but she knew Tarra was thinking of the threat for Wylan. “How can I help him, if he keeps me at a distance?”

~*~

The old servant entered the room, beckoning Melane to the waiting bath. With reluctant steps she crossed the rich sable tiles that reflected the creamy marble walls and graceful tapestries adorning Wylan’s chambers. Staying here among his personal things became extremely difficult. A small part of her felt warmly close to him, but objects were not the man. No matter how much they mirrored his commanding personality. Again she asked the question, why am I here?
Why do you force me to remain?

The request for her presence at dinner tonight came by messenger this morning. Melane wanted to refuse Wylan’s off handed invitation, but realized he expected such a reaction when his emissary confidently added, that the king would understand if she wasn’t up to making an appearance. Melane sent the Selam away without an answer. If she hoped to provoke Wylan into coming to her, she failed.

Tonight he would be entertaining Gallen and his entourage in a show of their mutual alliance. She would attend, if for no other reason than to declare she was now a part of his life. If he detested her presence so immensely, she hoped he would relent and let her go back to Cibrac.

Even his mother appeared appalled at Wylan’s behavior. Melane almost believed Tarra regretted what she instigated. Melane felt only the cold truth of his hate. If another claimed her she would have been gone from here by now. Only Wylan, would and did, realize her intent to escape, taunting her with his watchdogs.

Her heart was heavy. Wylan’s shunning hurt more than she would ever admit. Not pressing the real reason for her presence among these Selams, filled her with a gnawing guilt.

“The blending of two sect, two strengths.” Shemon’s prediction held its meaning clearer than Melane would ever have believed. It was the Lamar training she called on to guide her through the night ahead. For only she could know the pain she would be suffering in his presence. Wylan’s capture upon her heart was her prison. Only Wylan could defeat the marauding destruction he created.

~*~

“Melane, you are beautiful, stop fidgeting.” The gods must be blinding her son. How could he deny this girl?

“My hair?”

“Is perfect.”

Standing back, Melane gave herself a final critical check in the mirror. Her hair was done in a sleek style, pulled back in a ponytail, wrapped in pearls about the thick mass high on her crown. The long midnight lengths fell about her like a lacy veil. The striking blue eyes staring back at her matched the soft hues of the fitted dress. The rich folds molded themselves to her athletic form, encasing her in their exotic light. Tiny teardrop pearls, trimmed the deep cut of the dress over her breast. A flowing train from her shoulders completed the regal effect.

Smiling into her reflection she felt her confidence rise. Silently she dared Wylan to ignore her tonight.

Holding to her determination, Melane joined Tarra for the walk through the brilliantly lit halls. She still marveled over the beauty of Wylan’s palace. There was so much to see of his estate and she hungered to see the training grounds of his army. Unfortunately, the combat courtyard was forbidden to any elamie.

The inequalities were subtle, but nonetheless evident. This was the most difficult part of her new life. Melane discovered that Wylan’s household was unique for a Selam, due to Tarra’s status and now her own.

Approaching the grand ballroom the gay laughter and music could be heard floating throughout the halls. She never expected so many people. Besides the guest, there were jugglers, musicians and tumblers entertaining the colorful crowd.

Tarra seemed to sense Melane’s nervousness and remained close to her side as they entered the room. A servant passed, offering them goblets of wine. Its warming quality seeped through her, gently easing away the tension.

“…A beautiful…The elamie our king accepted…I wouldn’t have turned her away…He’s a fool, such a sweet trap.”

Shaking her head against the bombardment of different voices, they came from every direction, making her turn full circle. No lips moved and only sly looks gave evidence as to who might have said anything.