Prince of Swords (11 page)

“You've given this some thought,” Lyr said in a lowered voice.

“Yes. There isn't much to do as we travel but think.” She did her best to keep her voice detached and cool. “Since you saved me, perhaps you wouldn't mind having sex with me so as to make me unacceptable as Ciro's bride.”

“No,” he whispered.

Rayne wrinkled her nose. She had not expected him to refuse. “I can pay you,” she said with a touch of excitement. After all, he had said those bright women received money for their sexual companionship. Perhaps Lyr expected the same.

“No!” he said again, more adamantly than before.

She looked away from him and to the lamps that burned down the long hallway, trying her best to hide her disappointment. “Then perhaps you would be so kind as to order one of your men to do the deed. I will close my eyes, and I promise not to peek. We can do what needs to be done in the dark. I don't even have to know which man you send if he doesn't speak, so there will be no awkwardness in the days ahead.”

“Do you really believe that losing your virginity will save you from Ciro's intentions?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know what else to try at this point. Will you help me? Will you send one of your men to me?”

She was disappointed that Lyr had refused the chore himself, but she wouldn't let that disenchantment show. She had begun to consider the others friends, and surely it was better to lie with a friend than to blindly choose a man at her final destination, wherever that might be. Once she was no longer fit to be the mother of Ciro's child, maybe she would be safe. When that was done, she could begin her simple life. Did it really matter which man did the deed? Surely not.

Lyr opened the door to her room and ushered her inside. He examined the room thoroughly, which took mere moments as it was small and had only one tiny window which overlooked an alleyway. She had begun to think he wouldn't even answer her question, but as he was exiting the room, he stopped in the doorway and looked directly at her. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“After supper, I will send someone to you, if that is what you wish.”

She could not speak, so she nodded once.

“Be certain, as there will be no turning back once this is done.”

Again, she nodded. “Who will you send? I…perhaps it's silly of me, but I've changed my mind. I would like to know.”

“I haven't decided.” Lyr slammed the door behind him so hard Rayne felt the walls around her shake.

 

H
E COULD AND SHOULD SEND ONE OF THE MEN TO
Rayne's room. It wasn't as though Til or Swaine would refuse such an order. They were already smitten, and what man would refuse a beautiful woman when she made such a request? Maybe she was right, and losing the purity of her untouched body would be enough to save her from Ciro. Even the possibility was enough to give it a try. It wasn't as if she had decided to soil her soul with murder or hate.

No, she wished to taint herself with physical love. Perhaps it would be enough that she was no longer a virgin, but he doubted her soul would suffer. Everything she undertook was open and honest, and there was no darkness in that. Would it be enough to take a lover? Would knowing another man had touched her make her unattractive to Prince Ciro?

It was Lyr's watch, and he paced the hallway making almost no noise. The others slept, crowded together in one bed and happy for the comfort of a mattress, even if it was just for one night, even if that bed was shared. Rayne slept alone…or was she waiting for the man he had promised to send to her? Was she awake behind that door, perhaps naked, perhaps anxious, perhaps scared?

Perhaps she had changed her mind.

He unlocked and opened her door, slipping silently into the darkness. There was no light. The lone window at the back of her room was covered by a thick and dark shade that kept out the little bit of moonlight that otherwise might've seeped into the room. Lyr waited for a moment until his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then he moved toward the bed in the center of the small room. He could see little in this darkness, where no moonlight lit his way. Lamplight from the hallway through a crack in the door, and a small amount of moonlight through a slit in the shade, were all that lit the room.

Rayne's breathing was even, and he suspected she'd fallen asleep. After all, it had been a while since she'd eaten a good meal and rested upon a mattress. He could walk away and she would never know he'd come…but he didn't walk away.

Lyr sat on the edge of the bed, and Rayne's breathing changed. She sat up quickly. “I dozed off. I thought no one would come.”

“Have you changed your mind?” he asked softly.

She gasped, and then breathed deeply. “It's you.”

It would be best if she did not know he couldn't bear to send anyone else to this place. He couldn't explain that oddity, but it was undeniable. If he could've come to this bed and made love to her without ever revealing his identity, that would suit him just fine, but that didn't seem practical—or even possible. “Yes.”

Rayne drew her covers down. “I came to bed without clothes,” she said, obviously nervous. “I thought it would be best. Easiest, I suppose, is the right word. It might be difficult to wrestle with clothing in the dark, but I suppose we will have to deal with yours. Some of them anyway.” Her voice was soft, quick, and high. “You'll have to tell me what to do, or show me. Guide me, use your hands or…whatever…”

His
whatever
was hard, and he could think of nothing but sliding inside her soft heat.

Lyr leaned forward and silenced Rayne with a kiss, taking her mouth with his and swallowing her surprised gasp. Yes, she gasped, and twitched, and moaned. She moaned like a woman pleasantly surprised by the sensations of a kiss. She was naked beneath him, and while he could not see her as he'd like, he could feel her very well. One hand rose up and settled on his arm, warm and soft, with a woman's gentleness. In no time at all her mouth began to move against his. She needed no instruction when it came to kissing.

Segyn was right about this one; she could burn him well.

 

T
HE KISS WAS MORE PLEASURABLE THAN
R
AYNE HAD EXPECTED
it would be and she threw herself into it heartily. Lyr kissed her with skill and gentleness, but also with a passion she'd not expected. This was a chore which could be quickly done without any kissing. At the moment it did not feel like a chore, not at all.

Lyr had apparently shaved since leaving the supper table. His face was smooth. She touched his face and his jaw as they kissed, allowing her fingers to trace the sharp ridge of his jawline and the unexpected softness of his cheek. He was wonderfully warm, and she even liked the simple sound of his breathing so close.

She was no longer alone. For the moment she was a part of something larger and better, as if nothing mattered but this bed and this man who had come to it. Lyr placed a hand on her breast and caressed, and she was taken aback by the sensations that danced through her entire body. He brushed a thumb over the nipple and her response was so intense it surprised her.

In the midst of the pleasure, Rayne suffered a moment of doubt. Even though he touched her with such tenderness and skill, Lyr did not care for her. This was a task to be done, a necessary action which might save her from Ciro. It didn't feel like a necessary action and nothing more. She'd been grabbed in the past by men who cared nothing for her, and this was different. She and Lyr shared a bond. Man to woman, in the dark, there was something beyond what she knew to be real. Flesh to flesh, his hand on her body and their mouths linked, they shared something powerful. She felt it, but did he? Was she anything more to him than one of the bright women who offered themselves to any man who passed by?

Her doubts did not last. Lyr was kind and thoughtful, and at the moment that was enough. It had to be enough.

He laid her back on the bed and continued to kiss her, while his hands explored. She'd not expected this much attention. She knew the basic hows and wheres of sex, thanks to overheard conversations among the female servants, but no one had ever talked of what happened beforehand. Her body felt very warm and heavy, her heart beat steadily but too fast. And inside…inside she trembled and ached.

A man you barely know is about to be inside you.

The thought crossed her mind but was easily dismissed. She knew Lyr as well as she knew any man. He was noble and strong, he was serious and dedicated. His eyes were unflinching and as sharp as those of a hawk, and his touch revealed a kindness he did not express in any other way. Yes, he would one day marry a princess, but he was not married
now
.
Now
he was hers.

Lyr removed himself from her and very quickly undressed. She had wondered if he would simply open his trousers to take her virginity, but apparently he did not believe in half-measures in any area of his life. He had devoted himself entirely to this necessary deed, and she could only admire him for that. She could only be glad that he was the one.

She could confess to herself, though not to him, that she'd caught herself fantasizing about Lyr on occasion. Not about this, which was a new experience for her, but about small things like seeing him smile at her, or having him take her hand as she stepped across a rugged patch of land…or of being held by him. She had fantasized more than once that he might wrap his arms around her and hold her close, offering a much-needed comfort.

Lyr not only undressed, but set aside his weapons—including the crystal dagger, which was always on his person. When he was naked and the implements of death had been put aside, he joined her on the bed. He pressed his naked body to hers and kissed her again, only this time his mouth was on her throat, and then on her tender breasts. Rayne forgot everything else and allowed herself simply to feel. She felt as if she were falling, falling quickly toward something she could not wait for. Her body rocked toward his, her hands settled on strong shoulders and gripped the flesh which was like and yet so unlike hers.

He was determined to leave no part of her body untouched, unkissed. He had fine, full lips, and he knew how to use them very well. Those lips trailed across her chest and her belly, on her throat and the side of her neck. Soon she could not see or think, she could only feel, and what she felt was beyond her imagining.

Lyr spread her legs and touched her where she was wet for him, where her body pulsed and ached and screamed. A finger slipped inside her and she caught her breath as her back came up off the mattress and her hips jerked. A deep tremble grew and fluttered. Lyr did more than ensure that her body was ready for his, he aroused her. He teased her entrance until she shook to her bones and could not take a proper breath.

And then he was there, above her, pushing himself inside her, filling the aching emptiness slowly. His size was unexpected, but she did not hesitate to accept him and, indeed, to demand all he had to give.

He didn't move quickly, as he could've, but gave her body time to adapt before pushing deeper and breaking through her maidenhead.

Nothing mattered beyond this room, beyond this bed, beyond these two joined bodies. He stroked her slowly, moving in and out, almost leaving her and then plunging deep. The tremors she experienced grew sharper and quicker, and she found that her hips naturally moved in a rhythm that met his thrusts and urged him deeper and faster.

And then it happened. A powerful release fluttered, not only there where Lyr touched her but everywhere. She gasped and then lost her breath. Her body lurched and quivered, and she found herself holding her lover tightly as the pleasure she had not expected wiped away every other thought.

He drove deep again and then went still, quivering and filling her with the seed that might save her from the fate Ciro had planned for her, finding his own release and pleasure. As he gave her that gift, her hand settled possessively on the back of his head, and her fingers touched short strands of thick hair.

His head settled beside hers, and in a gruff whisper he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she answered breathlessly. “You did not hurt me. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised. Sex is quite fun, isn't it? I didn't ask you here for purposes of fun but out of necessity, but since you're here and we do seem to get along so well…” She wrapped an arm possessively around Lyr to touch his finely sculpted back and raked her foot along his leg. “Stay with me for a while?”

L
YR THANKED THE STARS THAT IT WAS HIS CUSTOM TO
ride at the front of their party. He didn't think he could look at Rayne and not somehow reveal that he'd been affected more than he should've been by their encounter last night. He'd gone to her bed intending to do what had to be done and nothing more, but when he'd found her waiting, naked…soft…
his
…everything had changed.

Maybe it would make a difference to Ciro's plans that she was no longer a virgin. She was so trusting, even in bed, even when she moaned his name and lifted her hips to his, that he was almost certain there was nothing she could do which would tarnish her heart or her soul. Lyr didn't know what criteria a demon would use when choosing a wife, but if bedding Rayne last night meant he wouldn't have to kill her, then he could not be sorry. As if bedding her had been a chore…

He'd do the same again, given the same circumstances. There was no way he could send one of these men to her bed, not when he had begun to feel so blasted proprietary about her. The unexpected sensation was a temporary inconvenience and would not last. He'd saved her, she'd helped him find the dagger, he'd given her his word that he would see her to safety. What honorable man wouldn't feel a bit proprietary?

A bit. Ha.

Segyn left his post at the end of the party and joined Lyr. “Something's wrong with m'lady,” he whispered, so none of those behind them would hear.

“What's the problem?”

“I don't rightly know, but she's been acting strangely all day.”

“Strangely in what way?”

“Look at her.”

Lyr hesitated, then turned his head about in a casual manner. Rayne looked fine to his eyes. A bit tired thanks to a lack of sleep, a little wistful, maybe a touch too happy with an added bit of color to her cheeks…“She looks fine to me.”

“She has not engaged Swaine or Til in conversation all morning, and you know how she likes to chatter nonsense. She thinks it makes the time go by faster.” The older man rolled his eyes, expressing his opinion of that idea.

“Maybe she's run out of things to say,” Lyr offered logically.

“Unlikely, m'lord. There have been many times when she's been content to chatter and say nothing at all. I suspect she might be up to something, and so her mind has wandered elsewhere.”

“What might she be planning?”

“Escape, perhaps. You didn't see fit to leave her in the village. Perhaps she'd just as soon settle there as continue on with us. We've been traveling at a steady pace for more than a week now, and she is unaccustomed to such travel.”

“She did not wish to stay behind,” Lyr said confidently.

“How do you know?”

“We discussed the matter.”

Segyn gave one of his snorts. “And of course she wouldn't
lie
to you and agree to whatever you might say and then turn around and do something else entirely.”

Lyr studied Segyn's rough profile. “You do not think highly of women, as a whole.”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, you can take my word as truth in this matter. Rayne did not wish to remain in that village. She is not plotting escape.”

A moment later Segyn said, “Women and war do not mix well.”

Lyr could not argue with that statement. “Is that what happened to your kitchen maid? War came between you?”

“That is a tale for another time, boy.” With that, Segyn turned his horse about and returned to his post at the end of the line.

 

I
T WAS ALL RAYNE COULD DO TO KEEP HERSELF FROM
humming as she rode along. She did smile on occasion, for no reason at all, and she found herself staring more often than usual at the back of Lyr's head. More than once she willed him to look back at her, to smile—as she had fantasized that he could—to give her a nod that no one else would understand.

But the only time he looked at her was at the urging of Segyn, for some reason. And even then, there was no expression of softness on his face, no acknowledgment of what they had shared last night—and this morning.

Perhaps the events of the past few months had changed her outlook on the world, but it seemed a waste not to embrace such wonders as the pleasure of physical love. Lyr had warned her sternly that no one else was to know of their liaison, and he had assured her it would not happen again. At the time she had nodded agreeably, but in truth she did not understand why. He was not promised, not as of yet. She was betrothed to a monster, but that was not of her choosing so she should not be bound by that promise. They were free for now, and they were wonderfully compatible. So why did he insist that there could be no more?

It was very wanton of her to wish for more, but she could not deny that she did. Perhaps those wishes alone would tarnish her heart, but she didn't think so. How could something so beautiful be a sin? How could the joining of two people, two souls, be anything less than pure?

Lyr didn't love her, and she could not say that she loved him either, but that didn't mean there wasn't some enhanced level of caring in what they'd shared.

And would share again, if she had her way. She'd lived a meek life, and look where it had gotten her! It was time to take the chances she had never before taken, to demand that which she knew to be right.

When they stopped to allow the horses to rest, she casually made her way to the edge of the road, where Lyr stood alone. “It's a lovely day for traveling,” she said, her voice loud enough for the others to hear if they wished to listen.

“Yes, it is.” He turned and looked at her, and if she wasn't mistaken, there was a touch of pain in his piercing eyes, eyes which were more narrowed than usual, as if he were looking into the sun.

“I'm much the better for my night in a proper bed.” Her smile was innocent as she rocked up onto her toes and back down again.

The pain in Lyr's eyes increased, and she could not help but notice that the deep blue of his eyes was the color she had always imagined the sea to be, though all she had was a hand-colored picture on which to base that assumption. Would she ever see the ocean? Would she ever dance? Would she live to love and bear children and laugh without fear?

Rayne took a step closer and lowered her voice. “Do you know what I have learned from my time as Ciro's prisoner, from my days when I thought I was doomed?”

“I have no idea, but I imagine you're going to tell me whether I want to hear or not.”

She didn't allow his dour mood to dampen her enthusiasm. “Every day is a gift.
Every day
, Lyr. We cannot live our lives based on what we plan for tomorrow or next week or next year, because those days might never arrive. Life is meant to be lived to the fullest, to be grabbed with joy and wonder and…and embraced.”

“When did you come to this enlightenment?” he asked dourly.

“Very early this morning,” she confessed, “as you were kissing the back of my knee and trailing your fingers—”

“Enough.” He lifted a hand to emphasize the single word. “We did what had to be done and that is all.”

“We did much more than was necessary, Lyr Hern, and you know it. Do I frighten you in some way?”

“Of course not.”

“Were you…displeased?” She knew he had not been, but wanted to hear him say so himself.

“No, but—”

“You are so dedicated to your duties as Prince of Swords, I imagine you often neglect Lyr Hern the man.”

“They are one and the same,” he said.

“Are they?” she asked. “Truly?”

She would've asked more questions, but Swaine joined them to inquire about the route they'd take that afternoon and into the next morning. Apparently there was an alternate route to the one they'd traveled on their way to her home, one which might be a day or two quicker. Rayne knew that revealing the nature of her relationship with Lyr to his men would without question end all possibilities of more, so she allowed the subject to drop
almost
entirely.

“Every day,” she said simply, and then she walked away.

Behind her she heard Swaine ask, “Every day what?”

“I have no idea,” Lyr responded convincingly enough. “You know how the woman rambles.”

Rayne could not help but wonder if their new route would take them into more villages, where there would be more inns and more beds—and privacy. As long as his men were watching, Lyr would reveal nothing of his feelings for her or for anyone—or anything—else.

 

T
O THOSE WHO DID NOT KNOW OR ACCEPT THE NATURE
of the war at hand, it appeared that Prince Ciro had returned home to comfort his ailing father. Arik, drained of much blood but still possessed of his soul, hung to life by a thread—but he did as Ciro instructed when his recently returned son pushed into his weakened mind.

Arik told the priests that his illness necessitated a passing of the throne to his son, and they agreed. Father and son made a few public appearances from the balcony outside the emperor's chamber, where Arik passed a scepter with trembling hands, and a priest placed a crown on Ciro's head.

It felt good.

When Ciro had come to Arthes, he'd expected to find more resistance among the people there, but he quickly discovered that there were many who chose to turn a blind eye to the truth. They did not believe what they'd been told. They did not believe that a demon could possess their prince. They wished only to live their simple lives undisturbed by politics, and he allowed that foolish wish to continue. For now. After he won, after all the armies that opposed him were defeated, they would discover the truth for themselves. By that time, it would be much too late for resistance.

Ciro continued to study the priests at his leisure, in no hurry to oust them all from the palace. There were only a few pure souls among them, and many of the souls he glimpsed were almost as dark as his own. Those were the ones he would call to his side as his power grew.

Emperor Ciro walked past those of his Own who guarded his father's newly appointed chambers. They bowed, as was right and proper, as he walked through the door to the small, plain room which was intended for a minor servant.

His father sat in a small hard chair, bound tightly even though any movement was increasingly difficult for the rapidly aging man. It was important that the former emperor not forget who was in power here, that he not begin to think that he might have a chance at escape.

If the former emperor were able to speak freely, those Columbyanans who were so anxious to dismiss the idea of evil in the palace would believe. That could not happen.

Alone with his father, Ciro pulled up a chair and unbound one feeble hand. “How are you feeling today, Father? Poorly, I see by your color and the fading light in your eyes.” Ciro pulled his father's thin wrist to his mouth and nipped the vein there, licking at the blood which seeped out too slowly. The old man didn't have much to give.

Except the soul, which Ciro was saving for later…but not much later. As soon as he had what he wanted, the old man's soul would be his.

The former emperor sobbed as Ciro tasted, a shadow of the man he had once been, the shell of a rebel who'd taken the throne from his legitimate half-brother.

Ciro didn't take too much blood, as he was not yet ready to remove his father from this world. There was still much to be learned from the old man, who had thus far been able to hide any knowledge he possessed. There was strength in the old man still, but it wouldn't last.

Arik would die broken, with
nothing
left of the man he had once been.

“I can take your soul at any time,” Ciro said as he laid his father's limp hand on his lap. “It is gray, tarnished by the lives you have taken and the lies you have told, darkened by your thirst for power and your willingness to start a war to get what you wanted.”

“I did what was best for Columbyana,” Arik whispered, as a whisper was all he had the strength for.

“You did what was best for Arik, you selfish bastard.” Ciro smiled. “Now, let's move on to the current war, shall we? Where is your army, Father? I imagine they'll be here soon enough, but it would be nice to know when they might arrive so I and my men can be prepared. None can challenge me for the right to the throne as you challenged your brother, but I imagine there are those who will fight me in any case.” If he knew precisely where the army was located, he could place his Own between them and Arthes. With luck, they'd never reach the palace.

He expected some kind of protest from his father, but the old man remained still. In fact, there was an unexpected jolt of life in the shriveled body.

“What are you thinking, old man? What has you believing there is even a shred of hope that I won't win this war?”

Was it his imagination, or did his father attempt to
smile
?