The Immortal Prince (15 page)

He looked at her standing there in her exquisite, elegant green-silk gown, her hand on the latch, tall, beautiful, fiercely intelligent and ferociously independent, wishing—for a rare moment—that he was the sort of man who could appreciate what he had in Arkady, physically as well as intellectually. She deserved so much more than he could offer, and she asked so little of him in return. It seemed a very unfair arrangement.

He smiled. “If only you were a man, Arkady.”

“If only
you
were, Stellan,” she replied, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, and then she left him alone in the study to ponder the cruel twist of fate that had put the soul of the one person on Amyrantha who truly understood him in the body of a woman he couldn't bring himself to touch.

Jaxyn waited until he was certain the rest of the palace was asleep before he made his way silently through the wide palace halls to Stellan's room. He desperately wanted to talk to the duke. The unexpected arrival of Mathu Debree disturbed him a great deal. Kylia's arrival had been bad enough. There was no room in Jaxyn's plans for any more competition for Stellan Desean's affections, no matter how platonic. He needed to find out the reason behind the crown prince's arrival, certain there was something sinister in it.

“Arkady was right,” Stellan remarked, looking up as he heard Jaxyn locking the door behind him. “You really don't think, do you?”

“She said that about me?” he asked, crossing the rug to the bed. Stellan was stretched out on the cover reading by lamplight. It was his habit to catch up on the business of the estate late at night, when he was unlikely to be disturbed. Rain pattered softly against the windows, the earlier shower having settled in for a good long soaking. It would rain all night again, more than likely, a common enough occurrence in Glaeba at this time of year but one Jaxyn had a little trouble getting used to. The Glaeba of his youth had never been this soggy.

“She wants me to send you away while Mathu's here,” Stellan added, putting aside the document he was reading.

I'll just bet she does,
Jaxyn thought. But he'd learned the hard way not to malign Arkady to her husband. Stellan was irrationally protective of his wife. “She worries about you too much.”

“A not-unreasonable fear, I'm forced to concede, given that you've just sneaked into my room in the dead of night.”

“I locked the door.”

“Making your visit even more suspicious.”

“Why did you marry her, anyway?” Jaxyn asked, sitting on the bed and swinging his boots up on the coverlet. He leaned back against the bedpost, picked up one of Stellan's stockinged feet and began massaging it.

Stellan closed his eyes, murmuring appreciatively. “We were in a position to do each other a favour.”

“And how did she take the news on your wedding night that your interests lay…elsewhere?”

“Arkady knew about me long before we married. She caught me, actually, in the arms of a rather handsome young troubadour who'd been staying at the palace. His troupe was moving on. We were saying goodbye in the library when she burst in on us, demanding I release her father.”

“So she blackmailed you into it?”

“Hardly,” Stellan said, lifting his other foot so that Jaxyn could massage that, too. “She didn't care. She was more worried about her father. It wasn't until later that it occurred to me that Arkady had seen what she had and not said a word. She didn't express disapproval. She didn't try to use the information against me—and the Tides know she had reason enough to. She just shrugged it off. I'd never met anybody—man or woman—who'd reacted to learning my true nature like that before.”

“So out of gratitude you married the first woman who didn't condemn you?”

“You have very little compassion in your soul, Jaxyn.”

He smiled. “That's what makes me so irresistible.”

“It's what makes you so damned dangerous,” Stellan corrected, but to Jaxyn's relief he didn't say it with much conviction. “We'll have to be very careful while Mathu's here.”

“And how long will that be?”

“At the very least, until the king returns to Herino at the beginning of summer. Can you contain yourself for a month or so?”

“Aren't I always discreet?”

The duke frowned. “This will require more than discretion, I fear. As my wife so astutely pointed out earlier this evening, Kylia is an innocent and Mathu far from it. We mustn't give him any reason to suspect the truth.”

“Then we'll tell him I'm your masseuse, shall we?”

“Oh yes, Jaxyn, what a marvellous idea. That's not in the least bit suspicious.”

Jaxyn chuckled softly. “Your secretary, then?”

“That would involve you doing actual work, Jaxyn.”

“Ah, we can't have that now, can we?”

“There's really nothing wrong with telling him the truth, you know.”

“A novel suggestion.”

“You
are
Lebec's Kennel Master,” Stellan reminded him, a little impatiently. “There's nothing suspicious in that.”

“I thought you were the master here.” Jaxyn smiled at him and pushed Stellan's feet aside, leaning forward, moving the massage farther up his leg.

Stellan pushed him away distractedly. “Not tonight.”

Jaxyn leaned back against the bedpost with a frown. “Well, I can see having the crown prince as a houseguest is going to be a barrel of laughs, isn't it?”

“It's nothing to do with Mathu,” Stellan assured him.

“What is it then?”

“I've got a lot on my mind.”

“Anything specific, or are you just worrying for the fun of it?”

Stellan hesitated and then sighed. “The same old problem. My heir. Or to be more specific, my lack thereof.”

“Kylia's your heir.”
Clever little minx that she is.

“By default, only. I'm a scion of the True Families, Jaxyn. I'm expected to produce a son.”

“And Arkady won't oblige?”

“The problem is mine, not hers.”

Jaxyn nodded, feigning sympathy, although in truth, he didn't really understand Stellan's dilemma. He had been attracted to members of both sexes at various times. For Jaxyn it wasn't the gender, but the person—or what they could do for him—that he found attractive. If he'd been Stellan, he would have just closed his eyes, thought of Lebec and been done with it.

But that wasn't in Stellan's nature. He was an odd combination of a man who at once lived a terrible lie for the benefit of others while being unable to lie to himself.

“Perhaps you could prevail upon Arkady to seek aid…outside the marriage bed?” he suggested carefully, not sure of the reaction he was going to get. His concern that Stellan produce a viable heir was genuine. Jaxyn was almost as anxious as the king to see Arkady pregnant, horrified by the idea of Kylia as Stellan's successor.

Stellan merely shook his head, not in the least bit offended by the idea. “She's adamantly opposed to it. She fears we'd never be able to trust the man involved to keep our secret.”

“Unless it was someone you already trusted,” Jaxyn pointed out.

“Who did you have in mind, Jaxyn?
You?
”

He smiled. “Why not?”

Stellan actually laughed aloud at the notion. “For one thing, Arkady despises you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged. Jaxyn refused to believe Arkady was completely indifferent to his charms. “Women sometimes use one emotion to disguise another, Stellan. Even the practically perfect Arkady isn't above that.”

The duke remained unconvinced. “Arkady feels many things for you, Jaxyn, I'm sure, but I seriously doubt any one of them is desire.”

“That's not really the point, though, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it's not really her decision. She agreed to give you an heir. If you're not able to perform the task yourself, then you should be able to nominate a proxy, and she should accept your decision.”

“Forcing Arkady to accept a man she doesn't want just so I can have a son would be tantamount to rape.”

“Don't be so melodramatic,” he scoffed. “I'm not talking about raping anybody. Of course, she'd have to agree to it. But you have to
make
her agree to it.”

Stellan shook his head. “I know what her reaction would be.”

“I don't think you do, Stellan. Arkady might act as if there's snowmelt running through her veins, but I suspect you'll find it's an act she puts on to protect herself as much as it is to protect you.”

“And you'd do this selfless thing for me, would you, my love? Sleep with my wife?”

There was an edge to the duke's voice that set alarm bells ringing in Jaxyn's head. “I'd give you the son you crave, Stellan,” he corrected. “And I'd do it because of what I feel for
you,
not your wife.”

“Then perhaps you should speak to her yourself.”

“
Excuse
me?”

“Speak to Arkady,” Stellan repeated. “Put your eloquent case to her. If you can convince my wife of the nobility of your selfless offer and she agrees to it, then you have my blessing.”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” the duke assured him. Then he smiled. “Of course, I'm almost certain what her reaction is going to be, but I will enjoy watching you try.”

“You're
challenging
me to seduce your wife?”

“I suppose you could look at it like that.”

“You're insane!”

“Probably,” Stellan agreed. “But at the very least, you'll have to stop flirting with Kylia for a bit and while you're pursuing my wife you'll give Mathu something else to worry about. The king is far more understanding about adultery between a man and a woman, after all, than he is about the same sin committed between two men.”

“You really are losing your mind, you know, old boy.”

Stellan shrugged philosophically. “Ironic, don't you agree, that insanity is acceptable in our world, Jaxyn, and yet us loving each other is not?”

“You know me. I'm far too shallow and venal for such deep thoughts. Still, I do promise not to make things any harder on you,” Jaxyn assured him. He swung his legs onto the floor and stood up from the bed, adding with a wicked grin, “No pun intended. Don't stay up too late, eh? You've had a long day.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Being rude to me won't help your cause, you know.”

Stellan smiled tiredly. “Go to bed, Jaxyn. Your
own
bed.”

“Goodnight, Stellan.”

“We'll talk again tomorrow.”

“Perhaps. If I have time,” Jaxyn sighed as he headed for the door. “I may be too busy seducing your wife.”

“She'll say no,” Stellan called after him. “And if you're really lucky, she won't leave any marks.”

“We'll see.”

Jaxyn opened the door and glanced up and down the hall outside before he turned and looked back at Stellan. The duke had picked up the document he'd been reading when Jaxyn came in, a solitary figure wrapped in the warm yellow glow of the lamp beside his bed; a single puddle of light in the otherwise dark room.

“I suspect you don't know Arkady as well as you think, Stellan.”

With that final prediction, he closed the door behind him and made his way down the hall, back to his own room, whistling softly to himself.

Things were back under control,
Jaxyn Aranville mused.
Kylia would soon be made redundant.

And Arkady Desean was officially fair game.

It took another week and several more frustrating interviews with Kyle Lakesh before Arkady was able to pin down her husband to discuss what she considered the fastest and most effective way of bringing this farce to an end. She wanted to call the prisoner's bluff, and needed the approval of the Duke of Lebec to do it.

Arkady couldn't say why she was so anxious to bring her visits with Cayal to an end. At first, she thought it might be simply her dislike of Lebec Prison. After all, her father had died there, so she had little affection for the place. However, as she rode out to the prison each day with the silent and watchful Timms as her escort, her heart beating a little faster in anticipation of seeing her prisoner again, Arkady began to realise it was more than dislike for the building. It was Cayal himself who disturbed her and she couldn't—for the life of her—understand why.

That the young man was a consummate actor was beyond question. His story was flawless. He had an answer for everything and never once hesitated before providing one. He had not attempted to avoid her interrogation, never dodged a question. He was suspiciously anxious to cooperate, in fact, arrogantly insisting that once the Glaeban authorities recognised what he was, they would have no choice but to release him.

Warlock's reaction to him was equally disturbing and was the reason Arkady was becoming more and more convinced this man's story needed to be discredited urgently. From across the gloomy prison passage, the Crasii listened closely to her interrogation of the Caelishman, and although he clearly despised him, every word the would-be Tide Lord uttered, rather than expose his lies, seemed to reinforce the Crasii's opinion that Cayal was what he claimed.

Arkady didn't believe for a moment that Kyle Lakesh was really Cayal, the Immortal Prince, but she knew how much Crasii folklore centred on the Tide Lords; how critical the immortals' existence was to the Crasii understanding of their place in the world. The Tide Lords, according to their oral history, were the Creators. The Mother, the unnamed Tide Lord they believed responsible for their very existence, was spoken of in hushed and reverent tones and rarely mentioned to outsiders. The Tide Lords were the Crasii gods who had fashioned their race by blending humans and animals; the gods who had—according to legend—instilled them with the irresistible compulsion to serve. The relationship between the Crasii and their gods was ambivalent, however. They despised the Mother while worshipping her; resented the Tide Lords while being unable to refuse their commands…

Or they would be unable to refuse them if the Tide Lords were actually real,
Arkady reminded herself, as she knocked on the door to Stellan's study and let herself in without waiting for an answer. It was warm in the office, the fire blazing in the carved marble fireplace not really necessary on such a mild day. The rain had let up for the past day or so and the whole world seemed brighter for it.

Stellan was sitting behind his ivory-legged desk in his shirt sleeves going through one of the large, leather-bound estate ledgers, with Mathu leaning over his shoulder. The prince was still on his best behaviour and had done nothing, thus far, to embarrass either his father or his host.

“Good morning, Lady Desean.”

Arkady curtseyed elegantly to their guest. “Your royal highness. How are you this morning?”

“Bored senseless,” he complained. “I can't believe how tedious it is learning about tax collecting.”

“Tedious but necessary, I'm afraid,” Stellan reminded him. “We could do with a break, though. What can we do for you, Arkady?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Kyle Lakesh.”

The prince looked at them questioningly. “Who's Kyle Lakesh?”

“A Caelish prisoner currently incarcerated in Lebec Prison, your highness, who's claiming to be a Tide Lord,” Arkady informed him, figuring there was no point in trying to hide the details from Glaeba's crown prince.

“Really?” he said, resting on the back of Stellan's chair with his arms crossed. “How bizarre! Why would any man claim such an absurd thing?”

“It's not so absurd if the Crasii believe him,” she replied, taking a seat opposite the desk on one of the exquisitely carved and embroidered chairs Stellan's grandmother had commissioned to match the rest of the room.

“
Do
the Crasii believe him?” Mathu asked.

“The one in the cell opposite him does,” she told them. “And he's not very happy about it.”

“I'm surprised at you, Arkady,” Stellan said, leaning back with a smile. “I thought you'd have this chap on the run within a few hours of meeting him.”

“To be honest, so did I,” she admitted. “He's proving to be a much better liar than I anticipated. Suspiciously so.”

“You think there's something more sinister going on here than a simple attempt to avoid the noose?” her husband asked, frowning.

She shrugged. “I wish I knew. The man's Caelish, which might have something to do with it. He certainly has an answer for everything. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest to learn he'd been coached.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “If he's a spy, it would account for the ambassador's interest in him.”

Mathu's forehead creased in a puzzled frown. “Surely if this man's claiming to be immortal, your grace, then the quickest way of deciding the issue would be to kill him, wouldn't it?”

“Tried that,” Stellan said, glancing over his shoulder at the prince. “Which is the reason we're having this discussion.”

“You
killed
him and he didn't
die
?”

“We hanged him and he survived,” Stellan corrected. “We thought he was faking insanity to avoid a second—and more than likely successful—attempt.”

“So hang him again. That should settle it.”

“With the Caelish Ambassador taking an interest in his case?” the duke asked, shaking his head. “I think not.”

“There might be another way,” Arkady suggested carefully. She couldn't say why, but she wanted to be done with Cayal as quickly as possible and she had the means, if only Stellan would let her use it.

“I'm listening.”

“Cayal…that's what he calls himself…insists he has an unlimited ability to regenerate. He claims to have had a limb amputated that grew back. He even claims a Tide Lord named Pellys was decapitated and grew another head.”

Stellan looked at her, a little puzzled. “So…what do you want of me?”

“I need you to speak to the Prefect. And the Warden. Do you think they'll let me amputate something?”

Silence descended over the study. It was the prince who broke it. “Lady Desean, you can't be serious!”

“I'm quite serious, your highness.”

“But that's…barbaric!”

“It's also liable to be very effective. This man is very likely a Caelish spy, sent here to cause trouble as some sort of retribution for our refusal of Princess Nyah as your consort. As it was Stellan who delivered news of the refusal to the Caelish queen, it makes sense that any attempt at evening the score would start here in Lebec. But as well rehearsed as this man is, I suspect his story will change fairly quickly if he thinks we're serious about cutting off a few fingers so we can observe his immortality in action.”

“And when we have to give him back?” Stellan said, a little less shocked than Mathu. But then, he knew her better. “How do we explain away his missing fingers?”

“Why do we have to give him back?” Mathu asked.

“Because if he's a spy, we can trade him for one of our spies the Caelish are holding.”

The prince's eyes lit up. “We have
spies
in Caelum?”

“We have spies in a lot of places, Mathu,” Stellan assured him.

Arkady sighed when she realised what Stellan was telling her. Mathu was still looking a little confused, however. “I don't understand.”

“What my husband is saying is that if this man really is a Caelish spy, whatever we do to him, the same, or worse, will be done to our prisoners in Caelum.”

“You mean, we beat their spy, they beat ours?”

“We amputate a few fingers, they do the same,” Stellan confirmed with a nod.

“I'm sure it won't come to that, Stellan,” Arkady assured him with more hope than conviction. “Can I at least threaten to do it?”

“What purpose would it serve?”

“If he thinks he might lose a few fingers, I fancy the Immortal Prince's story will change very smartly.”

“And if he calls your bluff?”

“Then he loses his fingers.” She shrugged.

“Which means you're not really bluffing, are you, your grace,” Mathu pointed out with a grin. “I must say, I never realised how deliciously brutal you could be, Lady Desean. No wonder Stellan toes the line so diligently.”

Arkady glanced at Stellan with a puzzled look. He smiled. “Mathu is a little surprised I had the strength of will to refuse the offer of one of his ladies of the night in Herino.”

“I'm shocked you would even make such an offer, your highness,” she declared in mock dismay. “Stellan is a married man.”

“So I discovered, Lady Desean,” he chuckled, finding nothing amiss in the situation. “And a very faithful one, too, I'm happy to report.”

“Nonetheless, it was very naughty of you to suggest such a thing. Perhaps I should threaten to chop off a few of
your
fingers.”

“I believe you'd do it, too,” Mathu laughed. “But let's get back to this immortal of yours. Why not have him prove he's a magician by doing something magic?”

“Ah, now that's the true genius of his deception. According to our immortal, it's Low Tide.”

“And Tide magic was supposed to be tidal, wasn't it?” Mathu said. “So until the Tide turns…”

“He's helpless,” Arkady finished for him.

“Clever.”

“But surely you can trip him up in other ways?” Stellan asked. “Declan Hawkes asked you to speak with him because of your knowledge of the Tide Lords, Arkady.”

That news caught Mathu's interest. “Declan
Hawkes
is involved in this?”

Stellan glanced over his shoulder at the prince. “There's not much that goes on in Glaeba Declan Hawkes isn't involved in, Mathu. It would serve you well to remember that the next time you feel like doing something foolish.”

“My knowledge is gleaned from Crasii legends,” she explained. “Their histories don't relate to specifics about individual Tide Lords. It's sad to think so, but Tilly Ponting's wretched Tarot gives more detail about the Tide Lords themselves than anything in the Crasii legends I've been able to drag out of the few willing to share their oral histories with me.”

“Isn't that where your Caelish Tide Lord would have learned it too?” Mathu asked.

Arkady nodded. “That's what Tilly suggested.”

“Then perhaps you should check Cayal's story against her Tarot first, Arkady,” her husband suggested, “
before
we start torturing and mutilating prisoners?”

“Chopping off his pinkie will be quicker, dear.”

Stellan smiled. “Mathu was right. You
are
a barbarian.”

Arkady wasn't amused. “I'm more worried for my professional reputation. I find the notion of confronting our prisoner with a Tarot card I borrowed from an eccentric widow with purple hair more than a little disturbing, not to mention so scientifically unsound it doesn't bear thinking about.”

“Nevertheless, Arkady, I'd rather you eliminated that option before you take to him with a scalpel.”

Stellan had that intransigent look about him that Arkady knew well. She had no chance of winning this argument. She sighed in defeat. “Then I shall drag this charade on for a little while longer, shall I? Quiz our immortal with that unimpeachable historical record, the Tide Lord Tarot, as my only resource? I'm certain to trip him up
that
way.”

“Sarcasm does not become you, my dear.”

“If it's any consolation, I'm on your side, Lady Desean,” Mathu assured her cheerfully. “Chop off his filthy Caelish digits, I say!”

“Fortunately, you don't have a say in this, Mathu,” Stellan remarked, frowning up at the young man.

“Pity,” Arkady said, rising to her feet. “I have to go, I'm afraid. If I'm going to rip our clever spy's story to shreds using nothing but a deck of cards, I'm going to need to speak to Tilly on the way to the prison this morning.”

“And you won't be amputating
anything
without my express permission, will you, dear?” Stellan said in a tone that displayed a disturbing lack of trust in her intentions.

Arkady hesitated before answering, and when she finally did agree, it was with a great deal of reluctance. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

She smiled at Mathu. “And you thought Reon
Debalkor
was a bore?”

“You can leave us
now,
Arkady,” Stellan suggested, his good humour starting to fade.

“Yes, dear.”

“Will you tell us all about it at dinner, your grace?” Mathu asked.

“Every riveting word of his confession, your highness,” she promised. She glared at Stellan. “The confession I plan to scare out of our devilish Caelish spy with the judicious use of a Tarot card.”

“Good
bye,
Arkady.”

“Stellan,” she said with an elegant curtsey. “Your highness.”

Her husband made no further comment as she left the room, slamming the door ever so slightly on the way out, the only outward expression of her irritation.