Untouchable (10 page)

“I’VE
lost their trail!” the Tryfynian soldier shouted, and Vyrn cursed aloud in the morning sunlight. The squat, incensed moron who was leading this search party of eight— four Tryfynians and four Columbyanan sentinels—had led them in circles. If Prince Alixandyr reached the palace and was protected, and perhaps even pardoned, by his brother, one part of the plan would’ve failed.

No, failure was the wrong word. Perhaps he wouldn’t get his bonus, but Princess Edlyn was dead and that had been his primary assignment. Even if Prince Alixandyr escaped “justice” for a while, in the end the result would be the same. If the emperor and the prince led the country into war over the death of a woman, they would both fall, and the bitter woman who had once been married to their father would have what she wanted.

Still, the prince’s immediate death would be both neater and faster. And the extra pay would be very nice. One could never have too much money.

“He will go to his brother for help, but not directly, I imagine,” Vyrn said calmly. “The woman is too difficult to disguise, and he will not leave his whore by the side of the road. We should check the nearest farmhouses and villages, and ask if they have been seen.”

“I suppose you think you should lead this pursuit,” the Tryfynian soldier snapped.

Vyrn looked the man dead in the eye. “Yes, I do. I have allowed you to lead until this point because it was your princess who was murdered, but this is my country, and the people in these parts will talk to me much more readily than they will talk to you.”

The man sighed, recognizing the wisdom of Vyrn’s plans. “I am tired, and I do not know the countryside. You may lead for a while.” His eyes hardened. “If I think for even one moment that you are purposely allowing your prince to escape, I will gut you.”

“I possess no loyalty for a man who would murder a defenseless woman, prince or not.”

The Tryfynian soldier, as well as the others surrounding them, nodded in agreement.

Gullible idiots, each and every one of them.

Vyrn changed the course of their chase, leading the party toward a small village they had passed through on the journey to Tryfyn, many weeks ago. The prince and his slut would need food, clothing, and soap. As he was at the front of the column and no one could see his face, he allowed himself a smile. Yes, they’d need lots and lots of soap. Someone, somewhere, would talk; someone would tell all they knew. He’d make sure of it.

It would be best if he could go alone, but that was not likely to happen. Still, he turned about—smile safely hidden away—and said, “I think we should split up into four groups of two. We can cover more ground that way.”

A couple of the men were not certain about the plan, but others recognized the benefit of covering more territory in a shorter amount of time.

“Rolf, you come with me,” Vyrn said, choosing the slowest of the Tryfynians to accompany him into the village.

It occurred to Vyrn as he watched the others pair up and ride off that if he could not find the prince, he could surely find a way to paint the man and his motives more clearly and more darkly. With enough evidence against him, there would be no hope for the prince. No hope at all.

AS
Alix and Sanura traveled toward the site of the camp they’d run from just yesterday, they walked more than they rode. On occasion he led the horse while Sanura rode, as her inadequate shoes were so ruined they were almost gone. Such pretty and delicate slippers were not made for hours of walking across rugged terrain. Neither was the woman who wore them, though she did not complain. Much.

As Alix had suspected, those who were not in pursuit had broken camp and headed back toward Tryfyn, no doubt to deliver the princess’s body to her father. Once that was done and the king was told that the prince he’d entrusted with his daughter had killed her in her sleep, there would be hell to pay.

He preferred to think of that hell, rather than dwelling on the hell in which he was currently living.

Wanting Sanura and realizing he could not have her had always been difficult. Having her, remembering the feel of her body and his together, being washed in the vivid memory of how he’d awakened this morning and then continuing to keep his distance was physically painful. If he’d had his way, if he were not the man he was, he would’ve stopped to relive that experience at least twice during this long day. Knowing they did not have a moment to spare, knowing those who were in pursuit might be closer than they realized . . . he would still gladly stop to relive the pleasure of being inside Sanura. From the beginning, this time, so that he could see her passion grow.

He worked at remaining alert and in command. All his life, he’d realized there was something different about him, something dark that others did not see. Fighting the dark impulses had become second nature to him, and yes, he had been foolish enough to think, on occasion, that he had won.

He had won nothing. That darkness would always be there.

Never had he expected that it was possible for the darkness to rise up and take complete control of his body and mind. Body, mind, and soul? Was everything of himself lost when the other was in command? It was worse than he had imagined it might be, so he fought for cool, calm control as he and Sanura traveled through the forest to retrieve her box of oils and paint and implements.

Though the company headed to Tryfyn had disbanded a day earlier, they would be moving slowly. It was impossible to travel quickly with that many women and the conveyance which would be necessary for the proper delivery of Princess Edlyn’s body. Surely at least one of the Tryfynian soldiers had remained with that group as a guard; perhaps more. Alix wished he knew how many men remained with those headed back toward Tryfyn, so he’d know how many he might have to fight for Sanura’s oils.

Alix had no doubt that he and Sanura could catch up— perhaps even by tomorrow morning, if they traveled for a while after dark. Once they had recovered the oil which was made for removing the damnable blue, he and Sanura could resume their flight from injustice.

He would love to have a few words with Tari, if the opportunity arose. Sanura was certain the maid had something to do with the princess’s death. To avoid war, he would have to prove that he was not in any way involved in the murder.

Even though he had not killed the annoying girl, and according to Sanura the other had not killed her, he still felt responsible. Princess Edlyn had been in his charge. If he had heeded Sanura’s warning that Vyrn planned violence, if he had been more diligent in seeing that the princess was well guarded, then she might still be alive. Instead, he had imagined the worst disaster that could befall them was for him to be forced to marry the disagreeable girl.

Sanura walked close behind him, rarely complaining about the long hours of travel, never asking him for favors or indulgences. She traveled very much like a soldier. A beautiful, blue, oddly happy, jingling soldier.

Before they reached the others, he’d have to do something about the noise she made when she walked. Sneaking up on even an untrained maid would be impossible as long as she jangled so. He had not insisted that she remove her decorative girdle and bracelets and anklets before now because he liked the music she made with each step. The sounds she made soothed him, even as they reminded him of what he could not have again.

She was Jahn’s, and he himself was irreparably broken.

Still, they had a long way to go before it would be necessary for her adornments to be removed, and until then he would allow himself the joy and the pain of listening to the music she made with each step she took. There were moments when he was certain the words to her song were “Not yours, not yours, never yours,” and still he took solace in the sounds.

It was the scent of something sweet and warm that broke the monotony of the day. Alix’s mouth watered. They had found plenty of water along the way, as well as bitter spring berries and a few edible but equally bitter weeds which grew near streams of cold water. The food they foraged kept them from going hungry, but the aroma which interrupted Alix’s thoughts was sweeter than any he had ever imagined. He stopped in midstride.

“That smells delicious,” Sanura said, her voice filled with an entirely different kind of desire than the one he’d been mulling over before the aroma had stopped him. “The source can’t be too far away.”

Alix turned to look at her, and found her as he had all day—smiling, gently joyous, filled with contentment in this time when she should be anxious and afraid. “We have no time for such distractions.”

“Surely it won’t take long,” she said, backing away from him. There was a devious sparkle in her eyes, one he had never seen before. She looked like an impish little girl set on something she should not have. Alix’s eyes were drawn down. Her slippers were in shreds. A gold anklet sparkled there, tempting and beautiful against her blue skin and the torn slippers. He sighed. They didn’t just need food, they needed inconspicuous clothing, blankets, a canteen, another horse, and sturdy shoes for Sanura. But first, they needed that oil. They were much too conspicuous in their current state of blueness.

“I never thought I’d stoop to being a thief.” Alix tied the horse’s reins to the low-lying limb of a tree near grass perfect for grazing, and he followed Sanura toward the scent that had captured their attention.

“I did not say I would steal the food which is creating that marvelous smell.” Sanura removed one bracelet, slipping it from her slender wrist and over long, lovely fingers. “I will buy what we need with this.”

No!
Would the loss of a bracelet harm her tune? Would she sound the same when she moved if she gave away even one small instrument? “You are blue,” he reminded her. “So am I.”

Sanura grinned widely. “I know.” This morning’s episode had not disturbed her at all. She was able to embrace the joy of the experience and forget all the reasons why it should not have happened.

She had called his darker side to the surface once before, when he had refused to flee from the camp without attempting to reason with his men. Had she done so again this morning, in order to get what she desired? Who— what—did she desire? Him or the other? The noble man he had fought to become, or a darkness concerned only with its own needs?

Alix followed Sanura, one hand on the grip of the sword he had found himself carrying when the other had gone deep and Alix had come to the surface to find himself rushing away from execution. It was not his sword, but it was a proper sentinel’s sword, and of a style with which he was familiar. He kept one hand on the grip, in case he and Sanura were headed toward more than food. She was drawn to the aroma of something freshly baked. He was drawn to her. In the early morning hours he had smudged her once flawless blueness, but she looked none the less beautiful. The curve of her hip, just above the low-slung skirt; the grace of her arms, bare and slender and long; the willowy movement of her legs, legs which had once been wrapped around him . . . all was perfection. He watched the sway of her hips, listened to the gentle song of her movements, and wished he were another man.

If he were another man, they could run and never look back. There were many sparsely populated areas of Columbyana where a man and a woman who did not wish to be found might live a very nice life. They could farm a bit, perhaps fish if they lived near the sea. He did know how to fish. They could build a small house, a home smaller but also warmer than the palace in Arthes which he now called home. They could make babies and laughter, and keep one another warm in the wintertime.

Foolish thoughts. Not only was such a life impossible for him, it was surely not what a woman like Sanura wanted for herself. She had had jewels and servants and the finest of clothes. A small, isolated farm and a fisherman husband were surely not what she desired from her life.

Not that such a choice would ever be his. He had responsibilities, and once he cleared up the confusion surrounding Princess Edlyn’s death, he would once again devote himself to those responsibilities. He was a prince; he was his father’s son.

Soon a small cottage was in sight. Puffs of white smoke drifted from the stone chimney. In a house this small, the cooking was probably done over the fireplace at the base of that chimney. He could picture it well, as he had grown up in a cottage no larger than this one.

Sanura looked over her shoulder and smiled at him, and his stomach dropped.

He shook off the hateful words, words he knew were not his own. “I won’t let you harm her,” he whispered as Sanura’s gaze returned to the cottage.

That “yet” was frightening, but not altogether unexpected. “Go away.” His words were so soft they could not rightly be called a whisper. “Damn you, go away.”

“I do not.”

Again, Sanura glanced at him. “Did you say something? ”

“No,” he said sharply.

Was it his imagination, or did the voice grow stronger as it spoke? As they stepped into a clearing, his eyes fell to the sway of Sanura’s hips. The thing inside him, the darkness he had fought all his life, wanted to make Sanura a slave to his own desires. Not a pampered possession as she had once been, but an abused and miserable thing.

He barely knew Sanura. They were lovers, they were partners on the run together, but he could not say that he knew her at all. And yet he realized without doubt that he’d take his own life before he’d allow her to be possessed by the other. He‘d said more than once that he did not know what horrors he might do when the darkness within him ruled, but in truth he
did
know. He knew too well.