Prince of Fire (20 page)

The Grandmother felt a rush of unexpected relief. It had taken her death to bring it about, but Druson had finally chosen his path.

Vala sighed as her most inadequate student dropped to his knees to examine her wound. All Caradon had the ability to heal quickly, but a killing wound could not be mended fast enough to save the injured. It was the way of the world, and could not be changed.

"Don't bother with attempts at doctoring," Vala said. "The wound will kill me very soon."

"No," Druson said, but the truth showed in his eyes. He knew she was dying. "I'm so sorry, Grandmother. I didn't know she would... I couldn't even imagine ..." He sighed, and then his breath caught in a soft gasp. "All I saw was her pretty face and the way she smiled, and this is where it leads. I am the worst of fools."

Vala reached up and touched Druson's cheek. "There is no time for apologies. You were a poor student for most of your life, but you have something the others do not possess with such intensity. Will. Desire. Ambition. You have always longed for power. Heaven forgive me, I am about to give you everything you've ever wanted."

"All I want right now is for you to heal."

She ignored her student and moved her hand to his forehead. What she was about to do would either kill Druson, drive him mad, or make him incredibly strong. Others among her students were better suited for this gift, but she had no choice. She had to pass her gift to Druson, or let all her knowledge die in this small hut, long before the battle was done.

She let loose her powers, bundling her energies and her knowledge in bright white light and forcing that light from her soul, her mind, and her heart into Druson. He gasped, as she had known he would, but he did not move away or cry out. She. held him in place with her power, with
her
will and ambition. More than a thousand years of knowledge poured into a young man who had not been built for such a gift. He had chosen the right path when he'd taken the life of the murderous girl who'd bewitched him, but would he stay on that path? Would he use this gift as it was intended to be used?

Would he survive this infusion of knowledge for which he had not been made?

She felt the energy draining from her, traveling at great speed from her mind and heart into those of an unprepared lad, A man to most perhaps, but in her eyes still an untested lad.

When the transfer was complete, Druson stared at Vala with widening eyes. He felt the power within him, but he did not know how to control it. Not yet. She patted his cheek. "I give this gift to you as it was given to me long ago. In time, you will be able to access all the powers I have given you."

"I don't understand," he whispered.

"From now on, you will be called Grandfather."

It was with a touch of relief that Vala passed her gift and her burden to her worst student, and with peace she slipped away.

* * * * *

Keelia felt as if she itched all over. It was more than the excitement of moving closer to the wizard and his blasted stone; it was more than wondering if they'd find the wizard in time.

The timing was not quite right—she was weeks early—but there was no denying that she was going into her fertile time.

If she had sex with Joryn once it descended, there would be a child, without question. Her child would be half-Anwyn, half-Caradon, and fatherless if she could not save Joryn. How would she explain that to her son or daughter?
Sorry, dearest, but I had to kill your father before he turned into a monster and murdered us both.

Would the child turn to wolf or mountain cat with the coming of the full moon? That would not be known until the child was twelve or thirteen years old, unless she could somehow see the child's future in a way she could not see her own or Joryn's. Perhaps the eyes would tell. Green eyes meant cat, gold eyes, wolf. But even that was no more than supposition on her part. She simply did not know. Such a half-breed was unknown and unthinkable.

If it came to be, how would her people accept a prince or princess who had Caradon blood? She knew the wilder species to be kinder and smarter and more like the Anwyn than she had ever believed to be true, but could she convince others of that truth? Or would she and her child be shunned?

The questions nagged at her as she led the way from rocky path to green, from sunshine to welcomed shade. As the days passed, she and Joryn spoke less and less. They felt the weight of what was coming, they sensed the uncertainty. At night they made love and slept close and did not speak of their fears or wishes. Such discussions seemed useless, a waste of their precious breath.

These days should be filled with fear. She should be miserable. Her entire life had been one of ease and privilege, the life of a princess, the life of a Queen. But she was not at all miserable. There was purpose in her heart, and the nights with Joryn were everything she had always imagined a loving relationship should be. Perhaps he claimed not to love her, perhaps he said he would turn his back on her if she dared to speak the word, but still... there was beauty here. There was unspoken love.

She turned and waited for Joryn, and when he was beside her, she resumed walking up the leaf-strewn trail. "Do you have children?"

"No." He did not seem horrified or pleased, simply casual and uninterested.

"But you have told me yourself that there were many women..."

"I was very careful."

"Hmmm."

"What does that mean, this
hmmm
sound?" he asked.

She tried to remain pragmatic and logical, though she felt neither. "Since these were women with whom you did not have a bond, women you ... left behind, I suppose, then how do you know there are no children?"

"I told you, I'm very careful."

"Why? Why do you care if you leave a woman you will never see again carrying your child? It's not as if you'd ever know with any certainty, since the sexual relationships are temporary."

He stopped. "Oh, no. You can't be. It's not the right time for you to conceive; even I know that."

Keelia sighed. "And yet you sound aghast at the prospect."

He grabbed her shoulders and looked down at her, and she saw the flickers of fire in his eyes. That fire spoke of anger or passion. "You know some of the details of my gift, but you do not know all. Tell me you are not carrying my child."

"What do you mean, I don't know all?" She knew enough. If his talent was a hereditary one, he was wise not to scatter little fire starters across the land.

His grip relaxed. "It doesn't matter. Why are you asking these questions now? Are you ..."
Now
he sounded horrified.

She had told him she never lied, and that was the truth. "No, I am not. I am a day, perhaps two, from going into my fertile time, however. The episode will last three days. If you touch me during that time, we will make a child."

"Then we will refrain from sex during those three days."

He sounded so logical, which was what she was trying to be. "You have never seen an Anwyn Queen in her fertile phase. It may be necessary for you to restrain me."

For a moment he was speechless. "I... I can't."

"Then use your little trick on my throat and render me unconscious."

"I can't keep you unconscious for three days!"

Who was being illogical now? "You have already kidnapped me, rendered me unconscious, and imprisoned me. Why is this any different?"

"Because I know you now. Things have changed."

"You would prefer to ask me to tell my child that I murdered his or her father?"

Joryn blinked hard. "What I ask of you is not murder, Keelia, you can't—"

"No matter what word you prefer, the outcome is the same. Would you have me kill you while your baby grows inside me? Would you force me to tell our son or daughter that I was obligated to take your life so you would not become a monster? A child of our making would be faced with enough difficulties without that additional burden. To be ... to be ..."

His face relaxed and the expression became calm! No, more than calm. Numb. Cold. "Little steals your tongue. Shall I finish for you? You do not wish to bear a Caradon child."

Her lips pursed tightly. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Is that what I am? Ridiculous?"

Keelia threw her hands in the air. "I don't understand your problem! You said yourself that you do not wish to make a child. Surely you can see the hardships such a child would face. If not, then is your reticence a product of your hatred for my people? Are you simply disgusted at the idea of fathering an Anwyn babe?"

She waited for Joryn's quick denial, but he remained silent for a few long moments, and then he said in a lowered voice, "That's part of it, I suppose."

She'd made many concessions for her Caradon lover. She had ceased issuing commands, she had stopped trying to convince him that they were meant to be mated, she was trying her very best to save his life! And all this time, he despised her for the blood mat ran through her veins.

Neither of them wished to create a half-breed child in an uncertain world and still... it hurt She turned her back on him and began to climb once again. Knowing the truth would make it easier to keep her distance when she wanted him but could not have him. Knowing he was disgusted by the idea of her carrying his child would help her to maintain her dignity when her body demanded release.

No, during heat her body demanded more than release. It was fertile and demanded to be nurtured. The trance state which offered her release had done nothing more than keep her from going mad. It had never been sufficient. It had never been enough.

With Joryn so close, how would she manage to keep her hands off him? She glanced back to see him following at a greater distance behind than was usual. He did not wish to speak to her further, apparently.

A Queen should not suffer because a common Caradon magician thought poorly of her people, but as she climbed the mountain—still intent on saving him if she could—her heart broke a little.

* * * * *

Joryn had always embraced his freedom, so he had never before spent more than two nights with one woman. By that time he was always ready to move on. After all the nights he'd spent in the embrace of the Anwyn Queen, he should be mightily tired of her. Tired of her red hair, her slight body, her gold eyes, her pale skin, the way she cried out when her pleasure came, the way her body fluttered into his, the way she touched him.

But he was not at all tired of her, which made it difficult to keep his distance, especially now.

Though Keelia insisted that she did not want him, the way she looked at him said something entirely different. She watched him with hooded eyes filled with her own special fire; she moved with an increased sensuality. She licked her lips. Slowly.

They stopped for the night, and Keelia quickly removed her tattered gold gown. She sat upon a grassy slope and assumed the position he had seen her take once before, crossing her legs and closing her eyes, dismissing him entirely. Her breaths came evenly and deeply. Her eyelashes fluttered and her cheeks grew pink. She sighed.

He knew this look; he had come to adore that expression on her beautiful face. Somehow, she was having sex without him.

In no time at all, she threw her head back and moaned. Her body twitched, her lips parted slightly, and she gasped.

Joryn had vowed to stay away from the Anwyn Queen during these three days, but his body had not received the message, apparently. He was hard, and his hands itched to grab Keelia and wrap her legs around his hips. He longed to bury himself inside her.

Moving slowly, she rose to her feet and looked squarely at him. Her gaze dropped, so that she could see very well how she affected him. Once again, she licked her lips, and then she smiled and took a sensuous step toward him.

So this was the Anwyn Queen in heat.

"That was pleasant, but it was not entirely enough," she said. "You know what I need, Joryn. Give it to me."

He had to remind himself that she was not in her right mind. Not now, not for the next three days. If he left her with his child growing inside her, what a disaster that would be. Would she hesitate in taking his life, if it came to that? And if they survived with their souls and meir bodies intact, would the child bind them together forever?

The word "forever" still terrified him, and so did the idea of making a child. He had allowed Keelia to think that he was appalled at the idea of fathering a half-Anwyn baby, but in truth it was the fear of spreading his gift that held him in check.

An untaught child who could open doors into the land between life and death could cause disaster for himself and those around him. He might take friends there to play with the spirits and never return; he might bring unwanted spirits back with him into this world, where they could wreak havoc.

An untaught child with his gift might start an unchecked fire that would open a doorway that could never be closed.

Even though Keelia reached down and grabbed him, Joryn controlled himself. "From what I just saw, you don't need me at all."

"But I do." She stroked. "Visions and fantasies suffice when you are not present, but why should I settle for an unreal, unnatural fantasy release when you are
here."
She squeezed to make her point. "I command you to fuck me, Joryn."

He had a sudden vision of those claws of hers springing to life at an inopportune moment. Perhaps he should appease her for now.

"I cannot deny the Anwyn Queen when she commands me," he said, wrapping his arms around her.

She smiled, and her grip lessened. Her body slithered and pressed against his, and he felt a deep tremble pass from her body to his.

"Lie down," he whispered.

Keelia did as he commanded, lying on a bed of soft grass. When he did not immediately join her, she crooked one small finger at him and grinned widely. She knew she was irresistible. She knew no man would walk away from such an offer.

Joryn lowered his body so it was pressed to hers, and Keelia wrapped her legs around his hips. She was right
there,
wet and hot and tight and trembling. Her fingers speared through his hair, and she held on forcefully.