The White Mists of Power (27 page)

She wandered down the path. The encounter with the king left her feeling tired. She should have been ecstatic, finally achieving, within a few short years of her mother’s death, the goals she had set for herself. But in the garden the game seemed like something other than a game. The king had a heritage to uphold, so he had to take another woman, even though he didn’t want her. And all of his children, murdered. Alma frowned. She remembered her mother speaking about such things and being shushed by her father. And she remembered the miscarriages, her mother’s offer of another, better herb witch, and the palace’s refusal. With the death of this last son, the king had a reason to be despondent.

Laughter floated across the bushes, children’s laughter. A shiver ran down Alma’s back. She never thought of children at the palace. She rounded a corner and saw that the door to the gate was open. On the walk outside sat dozens of children. Their clothing was ragged, their feet bare and their skin dirty. Geoffry sat in the middle of them, cross-legged, his lute around his shoulder. He began a ballad, and the children sang with him. Their voices were scratchy and out of tune, but he didn’t seem to notice. Alma had never seen him smile like that, eyes sparkling with a pure enjoyment. He ducked and leaned toward the children, calling them by name and flirting with them as he never did before the king.

“Dancing is easy,” Geoffry said. “If I were a head shorter, I would show you how. Colin, why don’t you grab a lady and show these ragamuffins how to enjoy music.”

Alma glanced for Geoffry’s companions, and finally found the one, Colin, sitting at the edge of the crowd. He was watching her. When he caught her eye, he smiled and stood up. He stepped over the children and stopped in the center, next to Geoffry. Colin took the lute and sat down.

Geoffry turned and stopped when he saw Alma. She held her breath, half expecting the pleasure to leave his face. It did not. He bowed in front of her and extended his hand. “May I have this dance, milady?”

The children were watching them. Dozens of expectant eyes. Alma glanced over her shoulder, but did not see the king. She took Geoffry’s hand. It was warm, dry. Colin played a simple, lilting melody. She stepped closer to Geoffry. He put a hand around her back, and her heart beat a little faster. He danced easily, gracefully, leading her as if he had danced his entire life. She whirled with him, finding his rhythm easily. Her fingers found the soft hair brushing his collar. The muscles in his back rippled, and his gaze never left hers. He smelled of warmth and sunshine.

He smiled, his lips slightly parted. He was inclining his head toward hers when something whizzed past her shoulder. He threw her to the ground, and she scraped her elbows. The children screamed and ran. Geoffry pulled his sword and crouched. Colin dropped the lute and pulled his sword. Alma grabbed the dagger she hid in the waist of her dress. She stood and glanced around. An arrow shivered in the gate where she had been standing a moment before.

Geoffry put a finger to his lips. He walked to the gate and examined the arrow. Another whizzed by, narrowly missing his head. He ducked, grabbed Alma’s hand, and tugged her away from the garden.

“Colin,” Geoffry cried. “Report this to the guards. I’m getting the lady out of here.”

“No,” Alma said, “report to the king. To the king only.”

She followed Geoffry down the path and to the cobblestone courtyard. No arrows whizzed past, and she sensed they were alone. They passed retainers, servers, and a group of jugglers practicing against the wall. Geoffry led her to a door on the far side of the palace and pushed her inside. The corridor was small and dark, filled with clothing, equipment and children. It had the faint smell of greasy food. Alma had never seen anything like it. Her breath was coming rapidly, but she felt as if she could run another few miles.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“To my quarters,” he said. “We can talk there.” He pushed open a small wood door and bent over as he entered. Alma did the same. His room smelled like the performer’s closet had–of soap and leather. A pallet rested on the floor, next to a rough wood table and a few chairs. A magician’s robe hung against the wall, and two lutes leaned beside it. He closed the door, leaned on it, and stared at her. Then he reached out and cupped her face with his hand.

“Are you all right, Alma?” he asked.

The warmth in his voice made her shiver. She ran her hands up the silk of his shirt, wanting to touch him. He slipped his hand beneath her hair and tilted her face forward. His lips met hers hesitantly. She pulled him toward her and opened his mouth, tasting him.

His hands slid down her neck, to her sides, finding her breasts and caressing them, sending little shudders of pleasure through her. Then he reached the back of her dress and unbuttoned it as his lips followed the path his hands had made. The dress fell, followed by the undergarments. She reached for the hem of his shirt to undress him, but he grabbed her wrists.

“Let me love you, Alma,” he whispered. He put his arm behind her back and led her to the pallet. She lay on the coarse blanket and reached for him. He took her hands and held them beside her, kissing her breasts, her stomach, working his way down. Her imprisonment frustrated her and she rolled over, trapping him beneath her. She untied his pants and pulled them off him. She rubbed the inside of her thigh against him, and he moaned, reaching for her. But she pinned his hands to his side and smiled at the urgency on his face as she slowly, ever so slowly, eased her body onto his.

Once she felt him inside her, she sat still. He gazed at her through half-open eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. She leaned over and kissed him. Then she released his hands.

He pulled her against him, and they moved, together. Their kisses, caresses became wild. She could feel his warmth inside her. The brush of his lips against her neck made her want more of him. She forced him deeper inside her and shuddered as an orgasm pulsed through her. He stopped moving, bringing his head up to watch her. His mouth was bruised, his eyes light brown, his hair covering his cheekbones. She reached for him again, and this time they rolled across the floor, touching, kissing, biting. Her hair fell loose, and he poured it over them like fine wine. His arms drew tighter around her, and they climaxed together.

“Oh, Alma,” he groaned, and buried his face in her hair. She held him, still shuddering, not wanting him to move. His weight felt good. She closed her eyes and ran her hands up his arm. A laugh bubbled inside her.

The door handle clicked as the boy released it. Geoffry didn’t move until the boy’s footsteps disappeared down the hall. Then Geoffry let go of Alma and helped her up.

“This is no place for you, milady.” His tone was soft. He brushed her off and helped her with her clothing. Then he finished dressing himself, his expression somber.

Too late she realized that he had been thinking something else about the attack. If she had listened, she would have found out instead of revealing her secrets to him. “I’m afraid I am,” she said.

“My name is not Geoffry and I have no lands!” His sharp words echoed in the tiny room. He extended a hand and helped her to her feet. “I’ve been lying to you, Alma. Maybe I am what I appear to be, a simple bard trying to survive.”

“No.” Her heart was pounding. The lethargy was gone. “You handle yourself like a lord.”

“Let me put this to you simply, milady. I am a bard. Bards know legends and stories. Bards are good mimics who live among gentry. Bards are also good thieves. I stole those clothes you met me in. And I made up Lord Geoffry of Kinsmail.”

“You’re lying.”

“Not now I’m not.”

They stared at each other, breathing as heavily as they had when they were making love. “There is no Geoffry of Kinsmail?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then who are you?”

“Does it matter, milady? I am not the king.” The bitterness in his tone shook her. And it didn’t matter who he was, whether he was gentry or not. She would become the king’s consort and could not have a relationship with any other man without the king’s permission.

“Then I am the one who must apologize,” she said. She put her hand on the doorknob. It was cool to the touch. “I let myself get carried away.”

“Alma.” He spoke her name as if it were a caress. “Be careful. Boton and Ewehl are the most dangerous enemies you can have. If you need help, come to me. They watch the king continually.”

“I will, Geoffry,” she said and left the room

Chapter 22

i

To the Lady Kerry:

I have met with the peasant Rogren. He claims that he has never seen Dasvid before and knows nothing of him. I believe this Rogren. He had no reason to lie to me.

I look forward to seeing you in less than a week. The palace has been abuzz with the news of the king’s new consort. Unless matters change, it looks as if the Lady Jelwra will hold that position.

Vonda

ii

Alma poured herself a glass of water, and sat on the window seat overlooking the courtyard. She wished that the day of the festival would hurry. Since her meeting with the king and her afternoon with Geoffry, she had not appeared throughout the palace. The king, when told of the attack, had frowned and told her to keep to her rooms. He placed two guards outside her door. She agreed, because she had wanted to think.

She reclined against the satin cushions. Vonda the spider lady was due. She had requested a meeting. Alma had already turned her away twice. Alma was now getting so bored that she decided seeing Vonda was better than seeing no one at all. She sipped the water, letting its coolness caress her throat. After seeing what spirits had done to her father, she drank nothing but water. She had a cool head and a sharp mind, and planned to keep them, even late at night.

A knock echoed on her door, and then it opened. Vonda scurried in, curtsied, and took the chair across from Alma without being asked.

“Please sit down,” Alma said, letting sarcasm into her voice. Vonda did not even apologize. She leaned forward.

“I have some information for you, milady.”

Alma glanced down at the courtyard. Geoffry walked past, talking with his boy Afeno. She sighed as she watched him, remembering the gentleness of his hands upon her body. “What information?” she asked without turning around.

“It is about the bard,” Vonda said. “And I am afraid it will cost you some money.”

Geoffry disappeared at the edge of the courtyard. Alma turned. “If you won’t speak freely, leave. The Lady Kerry pays you for information. I will not.”

“Not even if the information can save your life?”

Alma smiled. “I doubt that you would have such information. I will not pay you for anything, Vonda. You may leave.”

Vonda stood up. When she had almost reached the door, Alma said, “I hear that Lady Kerry arrives at the end of the week. When she gets here, I think I will tell her that her spy tries to sell information to other gentry. I don’t think that the news will please her.”