The Dawn Star (18 page)

Jade couldn't believe he asked such a question. He, the man they had kidnapped, whose life she had endangered when she took advantage of his honor, the man who had nearly died in the desert and then lay here on the edge of death for three days—he asked if
she
was all right.

“I am fine,” she said. “It is you we're worried about.”

“Just woke up…” He reached up and cupped her cheek. “I know I'm not supposed to touch you. But, Jade…I've thought about you every moment since that night.” His arm dropped back to the bed.

Something strange was happening inside of her. Desert men never revealed their moods. If she married Baz or Ozar, she would live the rest of her life with their lack of affection, their harsh worldview, and in Ozar's case, his wish to subjugate her will and body. All her life, she had assumed that her marriage would be a political and economic arrangement. She had accepted that. But with Drummer, that knowledge became a weight she loathed.

She longed for affection. Her parents had seemed to like her, or at least they never beat her. But neither had they shown love. No one had ever spoken to her like Drummer. No one looked at her the way he did, whether he was playing his glittar or standing on his head. He wouldn't try to conquer her. He would make her laugh. He would sing. Why the bloody blazes did she have to settle for a lifetime of misery? Was it too much to want happiness? She was tired of it all, so very tired.

Jade took his hand. She knew she should stop touching him. But she couldn't. She couldn't walk away.

“Drummer?” she began. But then she stopped.

He managed a wan smile. “That's me. Not that I ever drum anything.”

She went to the cliff edge—and jumped. “Marry me.”

His smile vanished. “Don't mock me that way.”

“I'm not.” She bent her head and kissed him lightly.

Drummer stiffened. Then he groaned and pulled his other arm from under the covers so he could embrace her. His passion had a subdued quality, banked by his illness, but that only made it sweeter. Right now, Jade would have promised him the world if he asked.

After a moment, though, he laid his arms back on the bed. When she raised her head, he said, “If your cousin comes in here, or if anyone sees us and tells him—truly he will kill me.”

Jade knew what she had to do. “Drummer, listen. Fieldson thinks we've committed terrible offenses against you. He's ready to declare war. Your niece's husband hulks at our borders. Both Taka Mal and Jazid covet the export trade of the Misted Cliffs. Jazid offers me a military alliance in return for marriage. Aronsdale is sitting in the middle of it all like a target. The political landscape isn't stable. Something has to give. Someone is going to launch an invasion, and I can't even guarantee it won't be me.”

“I know it's a mess.”

“Taka Mal needs a treaty. With Aronsdale.”

“Saints almighty.” He stared at her. “You meant it. About marrying me.”

“I can make a case that might convince at least some of my generals. It could bring peace between the Houses of Dawnfield and Quaazera, just as the marriage between your niece and Cobalt brought peace between Dawnfield and Chamberlight.”

“You're forgetting one thing.” His voice was growing stronger. “My niece is heir to the Jaguar Throne. That's why it worked. I'm heir to what? Nothing. I'm just a poor relation.”

It was true, however much she wanted to deny it. The treaty between Dawnfield and Chamberlight succeeded because each party brought enough into the marriage to make it worth the union. It put the Jaguar Throne back into the House of Escar and guaranteed Harsdown and Aronsdale wouldn't unite against Cobalt the Dark. In return, Cobalt swore he wouldn't seek dominion over Aronsdale nor invade Harsdown to reclaim the Jaguar Throne for himself. The next heir to the throne would be
both
Escar and Dawnfield.

It was a dangerous alliance. Taka Mal and Jazid needed to counter that threat. If Jade married Ozar, it might be a union forged in hell, but it would anneal their power. Their child would be heir to both the Topaz and Onyx Thrones. What offer could Drummer make? He had no throne, no riches, no army, nothing.

“Even so,” Jade said. “You are a Dawnfield through your sister's marriage.”

“No one would let us marry. Not your cousin. Not the atajazid. Not Cobalt.”

Jade scowled. “What will Ozi do? Attack Taka Mal and carry me off?” Knowing Ozar, he might try it if she pushed him too far. He wouldn't like it if she chose Baz over him, but she doubted he would try to stop the union. It didn't threaten his country, and it had been expected for decades. But if she married a Dawnfield, it posed him an entirely new set of dangers.

“Jade, this is crazy.”

“Perhaps not.” The more she thought about it, the more angles she saw. “Such an agreement would bind Aronsdale and Taka Mal to support each other. My House would agree not to align with Ozar against Cobalt. Cobalt would agree not to attack us. Aronsdale would agree to support my army against Jazid if Ozar protests my marriage and against Cobalt if he tries to stop it. Aronsdale will no longer be isolated, Taka Mal and Jazid on one side and Harsdown and the Misted Cliffs on the other.” She considered him. “It could stabilize the political landscape.”

He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. One of his curls stuck up over his ear. He didn't speak, though, and Jade felt her face grow hot with mortification. Her recitation about politics was probably about as romantic as having patters.

“I don't understand politics and military campaigns,” Drummer said. “I never have.”

“I didn't mean for it to sound so blunt.” Jade felt foolish. He didn't seem to want her.

Then Drummer said, “If you want me to marry you, and you think it will work—” his sudden smile was as brilliant as it was sweet “—I would be honored to be your husband.”

Jade felt as if a heavy carpet lifted off her shoulders. She wanted to laugh, to shout, to tumble in the silk sheets with him. But she could wait. They had their whole lives—which she hoped would be more than a few days.

“I'm glad.” Her smile broke through. “Very glad.”

Even with his face pale and drawn from his illness, his gaze could still dance with mischief. “But I'm too young for you.”

“What, twenty-eight?” She laughed, feeling light. “Five years. Almost six. I'm ancient.”

“Ah, Jade.” He pulled her into his arms and laid his fevered cheek against her head. “I can't believe this is happening to me. Maybe it's a delirium dream.”

“Then I'm having it, too.” Holding him, she pondered how to proceed. She couldn't tell Baz until she could ensure Drummer's safety. Nor did she want her cousin harmed. She did love him, as a sister would love a quarrelsome brother.

Ozar would be a greater problem. Given a chance, he might haul her off to that fortress of his and do saints only knew what to her. Before she could announce any betrothal, she needed to ensure no one killed, abducted, or tortured anyone else. She wasn't certain who to trust. If anyone. General Slate tended to align with Baz. Firaz could go either way. Spearcaster usually supported her, but he didn't respect Aronsdale, a country he considered weak. All her advisors would object to Drummer's lack of title.

Jade drew back and considered him. Drummer chuckled, a pallid echo of his laugh, but a blessing after her fears for his life. “Why do you gaze at me as if I'm a puzzle?”

She tapped his cheek. “I have to fit the pieces together so I can marry you without getting either of us in trouble or dead.”

His smile faded. “I don't see how.”

“I have an idea.” Jade kissed him soundly. “I have to take care of some matters.” She slid off the bed. “Wish me luck.”

Drummer was watching her with a strange expression, as if she were a wraith that would soon dissipate. “Do you have a shape?”

She peered at him. “Shape of what?”

“A ring, cube, anything like that.”

Puzzled, she took off one of the gold hoops that hung from a smaller ring in her ear. “Will this do?”

“It's perfect.” He held out his hand, palm up, and she set the earring in its center. Then he just sat. Jade shifted her weight, uncertain what this meant. He looked so drained and pale, she felt certain he should lie down again.

A sphere of gold light appeared in his hand.

Jade gaped at the sphere. “What is that?”

“For you,” he said softly. “A topaz sphere.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “I didn't understand about the pact. I'm sorry I betrayed your trust. But I give you my word now.”

The blood drained from her face. “How did you do that?”

“It's a parlor trick,” he murmured, seeming to tire. The light faded.

“I've never seen anything like it,” Jade said. Quietly she added, “But I will honor your pact.”

He offered her the earring. “Good luck, my Fire Opal.”

Fire Opal indeed. She liked the name. Soon she would give him hers. Quaazera.

C
obalt leaned over the rocks and looked down at the base of the cliffs. About ten feet below him, a large warrior in leather-and-bronze armor was swinging his sword—at Mel. She blocked the strike, but the force of the blow backed her up a step. As the warrior came at her with another swing, Cobalt's hand tightened on the spur of rock he was clenching, and he barely held back his shout.

Mel parried with her blade at an unusual angle and caught her opponent's sword in a twisting motion. It was a strange move, one she had used against Cobalt, odd enough that it slowed him down. It had the same effect on her opponent below. He hesitated, and she used her advantage to drive him back. He recovered fast, though, and his next parry knocked the sword from Mel's hand. He followed up with a thrust that Cobalt's heightened instincts comprehended could cut off Mel's head if it struck home—

Cobalt vaulted over the rocks and landed with a thud next to Mel, in front of the blade the warrior brandished at his wife. In reflex, Cobalt drew his own sword. His awareness of time jumped as it did in battle, where he felt as if he acted at normal speed and everyone around him moved in a strange, incredibly slowed time. The other man froze, his sword a hand's span from Cobalt's breastplate.

The warrior flushed and lowered his weapon. Apprehension washed across his face. With the threat to Mel past, Cobalt's time sense slowed to normal.

Mel sighed. To the warrior, she said, “Thank you.”

The man bowed deeply to her. “You fight well, Your Majesty.” He looked as if he feared Cobalt was about to slice him up.

“You may go,” Cobalt growled at him.

“Your Majesty.” The man bowed again and quickly set off toward the fields where the Chamberlight army had camped.

Mel turned a dour gaze on Cobalt. “What was all that for?”

He crossed his arms. “How do you expect me to react when a man waves a sword at my pregnant wife?”

“Ah, Cobalt.” She sheathed her sword and adjusted her armor. It bewildered him that she could dress so much like a man and look so womanly. Black leather did erotic things to her body. It made him want to take her to Taka Mal with him, and he couldn't do that. He had to broach the subject again, and he would have to say many words to make his point, but if he didn't put forth his best effort, his formidably articulate wife would talk circles around him until he ended up agreeing with her. This was too important for him to let that happen.

“Mel,” he began.

“Yes?” She was resting her palm on the ball that formed the end of her sword hilt. Green light glowed around her hand.

“Stop that,” he growled.

“It's only a mood spell.” But she released the ball, and the light faded. “Sometimes I think you make them.”

“Spells of emotion?” He couldn't think of anyone less likely than himself to wield them.

“Not emotion.” She hesitated. “Maybe not spells. But saints, Cobalt, when you fight, it's as if you have supernatural powers. I didn't think it was possible to move that fast.”

Ah. So. He pulled himself up. “I am indeed formidable.”

Her lips quirked upward. “And modest.”

“What did your emotion spell tell you?”

“You fear for me.”

“Yes.” Knowing one-word responses wouldn't be enough, he forced himself to continue. “You must stay in Alzire. I know you feel you must ride. You have the heart of a fighter. I know you can help the army. But you must, this time, listen to me.” No, that wasn't right. She always listened to him. She was always respectful. Then she went ahead and did whatever she wanted. “You carry our baby.” He didn't know how he could ever be a good father, but now that he had absorbed the thought of his child, he wanted intensely for it to be born.

“The army won't go into combat,” Mel said. “You're going to Taka Mal only as a warning, right?” She made the question a challenge.

“Yes,” Cobalt said, aware of the sun heating the hollow where they stood. Sweat gathered on his brow. “But any time you take an army somewhere, combat is possible. We will march along the Jazid border. The Atajazid D'az Ozar will bring out his army. Just in case. Queen Vizarana will gather hers. Just in case. It is too volatile. You must not come.”

She rested her hand on her abdomen in a gesture that seemed so instinctual Cobalt wondered if she realized she had done it. “I wouldn't fight.”

“Even so. You could be hurt.” He took her hand, awkward with the gesture. It wasn't that he didn't feel the affection it implied; sometimes he filled up with so much emotion for Mel, he didn't know where to put it all. He never knew how to express it; his attempts were foolish and clumsy. Nevertheless, he had to try. He could just forbid her to come. He could have his men hold her in the Alzire Palace. But if he trampled her spirit, she might take away the love that for some miraculous reason she gave him.

Mel was watching his face, and he suspected she was using her sphere to make mood spells even if her sword wasn't making light. Actually, he wasn't sure it
didn't
have a faint glow.

She took his hand in both of hers. “All right.”

Cobalt wasn't certain he had heard properly. “What?”

“I will stay in Alzire.”

“You will?” Now he
knew
his hearing had problems.

She laughed softly. “Don't look so shocked.”

“You never agree that easily.”

“You are more convincing than you know. It comes from your heart.” She placed his palm on her stomach, which as of yet showed no sign of pregnancy. “You are right, I must think of the child.”

Cobalt didn't realize how much he had tensed until his body relaxed. “It is good, is it not? Having a child.”

She smiled. “It is.”

“You will be a good mother.” He had no doubt about that.

“I hope so.”

He pulled her to him. Since they had been traveling with the army, they had less time for each other. Soon they would return to their duties, he to overseeing the Chamberlight forces and she to governing Alzire. But for a few moments on this warm afternoon, they could spend time with each other.

“Let us walk for a while,” he said.

She took his hand. “I would like that.”

As they strolled together, a thought came to Cobalt: He should enjoy this walk because it would be his last with her. He shook off the strange mood. They would have many such times. Of course they would. He couldn't bear to think otherwise.

He would annihilate anyone who threatened her.

Jade walked down the Sunwood Corridor. Its floor-to-ceiling windows let sunlight slant across the yellow wood. She passed mosaics depicting scenes from the history of Quaaz. Here was one that showed her many-times-great-grandmother from a thousand years ago holding a baby, the child who grew up to be Kaazar the Mighty, also called The Wise, the Quaazera king who had built this city.

She stepped through an archway into a large hall. On her right, a small arch opened discreetly into her Sunwood study, a comfortable room with an antique surveying glass mounted on a gold stand in one corner.

Sphere-General Fieldson had already arrived, escorted by the two men she sent to request his presence—her bodyguards, in fact. Leadership was about judicious governance of course, but having good bodyguards never hurt, either. They now stood posted at the door. She trusted these two, not only to protect her, but to watch that her cousin Baz or his palace spies didn't “happen” by and eavesdrop. Fieldson was across the room gazing out a floor-to-ceiling window bordered by murals of her ancestors. Sunlight slanted across his face, highlighting the lines around his eyes. His strong profile reminded Jade of statues she had seen during her visits to Castle Suncroft in Aronsdale.

She went over to him. “Light of the noon, General.”

He turned with a start. As he bowed, his tension seemed to crackle. “My greetings, Your Majesty.” His deep voice could have sounded threatening, except he always sounded like that. He was, she had to admit, an impressive envoy.

Jade gave him her most disarming smile. “Drummer woke up.”

Fieldson remained wary. “He is recovering?”

“He is indeed.” Anticipating his next question, she added, “You can see him if you would like. But first I wish to discuss something with you.”

The hint of a smile had started to show on his face, but now his defenses snapped back down. “I will engage in no negotiations, Your Majesty, until I am assured he is well.”

“It isn't a negotiation, exactly. Drummer and I have come to a decision.” She thought of the strange, unsettling light her intended had created. Then she put the disquieting memory out of her mind; she would have time to worry about it later. “That is why you and I need to talk.”

“I'm not sure I should listen to this,” Fieldson said. “But I confess, you have my curiosity. What is this decision?”

Jade felt as if she were walking down a gauntlet of words. One misstep and they could demolish her. “I can't tell you yet.” She held up her hand when he scowled. “I don't mean to be coy. You and I may want similar things, but neither of us is ready to trust the other. Please hear me out.”

“All right.” Despite his guarded manner, he seemed intrigued, as he often did in their talks, as if she were some exotic and beautiful animal. “What do you wish to say?”

“It has to do with protection.”

“For Drummer.”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “And for me.”

His gaze sharpened. “Protection against who?”

Jade gazed out the window at the garden, though she hardly saw the trellises heavy with fire-lilies or the dragon fountains outside that breathed water instead of flame. She didn't know how to broach the subject of her betrothal. If she misspoke in any way that could be interpreted as a betrayal of her throne or the House of Quaazera, it could have disastrous consequences.

“Has something happened to Drummer,” Fieldson asked tightly, “that you fear reprisals?”

“If only it were that simple.” She turned to him. “Aronsdale is in an unstable position, some might even say untenable.”

“People say many things,” he answered. “Talk costs nothing.”

“Oh, I don't know about that.” Jade regarded him steadily. “It can cost a kingdom.”

His face revealed nothing. But he had to know what she meant. He came from Aronsdale and had been a king's advisor even before he went to Harsdown to serve Muller Dawnfield.

“Go on,” he said.

“Consider geography,” Jade said. “On one side of Aronsdale, Taka Mal and Jazid are poised to challenge Cobalt Escar. On the other side of Aronsdale, the Misted Cliffs and Shazire are united to move against Taka Mal and Jazid.”

“I will believe an alliance between Jazid and Taka Mal,” Fieldson said, “when I see it.”

Jade knew he was probing. “Is it any less likely,” she countered, “than the devil's bargain the House of Dawnfield made with the House of Escar when Mel Dawnfield married Cobalt Escar?”

“You would know better than I,” he murmured, “what devils Taka Mal is willing to endure for the price of conquest.”

Devils indeed. She didn't want to dwell on her brutal suitor. “Aronsdale is ruled by the Dawnfields, and they are bound by their treaty with Cobalt. But suppose he conquers these desert lands? You don't know that he will respect the treaty when nothing is left to stop him.” She took a breath. “If the atajazid and I join forces, we might defeat Cobalt. Would we then turn against Aronsdale? Should they ally with their sometimes enemy, Cobalt the Dark? No matter how you look at it, Aronsdale is caught in the middle, and if they fall, so will Harsdown.”

“You paint a rather dire picture.”

“Do you dispute it?”

He didn't answer. Instead he asked, “I take it you have a point in outlining this state of affairs?”

“Perhaps a solution.”

Jade had the gratification of seeing his surprise. “If you have that,” he told her, “you are far ahead of the rest of us.”

“Aronsdale should ally with Taka Mal.”

He gave a startled laugh. “Why not? While we're at it, we could move the Blue Ocean to Aronsdale and flood the desert.”

She smiled slightly. “I'm not joking.”

“Never, in known history, have Taka Mal and Aronsdale allied. How would you convince your advisors? Your military?” He waited a moment. “Your cousin?”

“They aren't stupid,” Jade said. “We must ally with someone, or we are going to end up just like Shazire.”

“Why would you choose Dawnfield over Onyx?”

“The House of Onyx offers much to my House. An alliance has merit. However, I am a realist, as are my advisors. If I marry the atajazid, I could lose my throne to him.”

“You don't have to marry him to ally with him.”