Untouchable (7 page)

“A cup of tea, m’lady,” Tari said meekly. “The night is a bit chillier than it has been of late. I thought you might need the warmth.”

Sanura gratefully took the tea and wrapped her fingers around the warm cup. “Thank you.” Tari’s love had changed her, at least for now. She was not as harsh as she’d been before. She did not seem to hate the woman she was forced to serve. “Would you sit with me?”

Tari hesitated and then lowered herself into a comfortable and relaxed position on the floor. “If you would like.”

Sanura took a sip of the tea. It was overly sweet for her tastes, but she would not complain, not when the young woman before her had made such a friendly gesture. “I have never been in love,” she said. “Not the way you are now.”

Tari blinked hard and then took a deep breath. “Of course, you see the love in me, don’t you?”

“I do. It’s very enthusiastic and very strong, and it eclipses all else.” In that moment, Sanura envied the plain servant.

“I did not expect to fall in love,” Tari said. “It just happened. ” She narrowed her eyes. “How is it that someone like you has never been in love? You’re beautiful, and all the men want and admire you.”

“A man cared deeply for me once,” Sanura confessed. “I liked him, I admired him very much, but I did not find what you are now experiencing.” Unwavering devotion. Unquestioning fidelity. “The women of the Agnese do not love the way other women do.” Love had not been part of her training, it had not even been mentioned in her years of education. She took another sip of the tea, which was quite good. Nothing came free, especially not magical abilities. Perhaps thanks to her gifts she was incapable of the kind of love Tari had discovered. Perhaps the lack of love had nothing to do with her powers, but was a personal character flaw. Did she have no heart? Why had she never loved Zeryn this way? In their years together he had treasured her. He had treated her well. Until his untimely death he had been the perfect lover—the perfect possessor.

Could a woman love a man who possessed her so, even if he gave her everything he had to give?

Senseless, useless thoughts. She had grown too maudlin of late.

She would sleep deeply tonight. Her eyes were already heavy, and she stifled a yawn. The day had been a long one, and she looked forward to crawling beneath her blanket and escaping to the land of dreams for a while.

Before she knew what was happening, Tari had risen and was there, taking the half-empty cup, assisting Sanura into a prone position and placing the much desired blanket over her body.

“Sleep well,” Tari said, and again the warmth of love bloomed within her.

“I’m so tired,” Sanura said, and her eyes went to the cup Tari held carefully in one hand.

“It has been a long day.”

“Yes, it has,” Sanura admitted.

“You travel like a soldier, m’lady,” Tari said with a smile. “But you are not a soldier. You need your rest.”

It was true enough, and Sanura nodded. “Will you see the man you love tonight?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” Tari answered with joy.

The physical act of love combined with such emotion would be remarkable, Sanura imagined. The heat of passion combined with the warmth of heart would take any woman, trained in the arts or not, to a very special place.

“I wish I knew such love,” Sanura admitted with a sigh. “Perhaps it is not possible for me.”

Her body was not to be touched by any but the man who owned her, but what of her heart? Did she have a woman’s heart at all, or was she doomed to live a loveless life?

Sanura drifted off to sleep washed in Tari’s love, reaching for a love which was not and could never be her own. For a moment she imagined it could be hers. She imagined she was capable of choosing her own possessor and even loving him. Tari’s love was so deep it had wiped away everything else she was, at least for now. Perhaps the intensity would fade in time, but for now it was blinding.

When Sanura thought again of love, she saw Prince Alixandyr’s face.

Or was it Trystan’s face? In slumber, she shuddered.

VERITY
snuggled beneath a blanket of fur, protecting herself against the cold spring night. Her tent was sturdy and she had many blankets, yet still her blood was chilled. In Arthes, the nights would be warmer. She thought of that fact, hoping to bring warmth to her blood.

Even though she had begun to suffer the occasional doubt, she could not,
would not
, return to the city of Mirham and the cold home where she’d lived her entire nineteen years. There was nothing exciting in the province where she’d been born and lived all her life, and Verity longed for excitement. Although she was very well aware that others would also be vying for the position of empress, she was quite confident that she would be the one Emperor Jahn chose. After all, she
was
very beautiful. Her hair was soft and fair, and she had a nice womanly shape, and her face was flawless. Absolutely
flawless
. What man would not want her?

Besides, Mavise had been harping on Verity’s destiny to be the wife of a great man for many years, and there were the love potion and the lucky talisman to call upon, if they were necessary. A few tricks, in case the emperor was blind or foolish, couldn’t hurt.

She sighed and closed her eyes, pushing aside the new doubts which seemed to grow as they traveled nearer Arthes. She’d make a fine empress. Empress Verity. She’d have jewels and the finest of clothes and so many servants she wouldn’t be able to remember all their names. And oh, there would be grand balls every week!

Verity was not surprised when the tent flap opened and Laris slipped inside. She smiled, even though her mouth was hidden beneath the edge of her blanket and he could not see. Those pesky doubts faded away, at least for now.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

“Yes.” She did not move.

“I had to see if you were well.”

It was a ritual of sorts, a requirement for what was to come. “I’m cold,” she said simply.

A moment later he was there, slipping beneath the blanket and wrapping his arms around her. Verity sighed and melted into Laris’s warm, hard body. Here was the warmth she’d craved. Here were comfort and ease and even happiness. If not for Laris, this journey would be unbearable.

As was usual, his hands began to creep, gently and not too terribly bold. Verity did not mind a little hand creeping; in fact it was quite pleasant. His touch made her tingle, it made her more than warm, no matter how cold the night. They were close, their bodies crushed together beneath the blanket, so she felt the evidence of his desire pressing against her. Still, she was not afraid. Laris was entirely hers. She had seen to that, had she not?

Soon his hands strayed a bit too far. She rather liked the sensations which filled her as Laris caressed her breasts, breasts which were encased in the warmest nightgown she owned. She almost gasped when he cupped one breast in his large hand and placed his mouth against the back of her neck. She shuddered to her bones, and so did he. Lovely as this was, she was not entirely cruel, and she imagined his manly restraint could be stretched only so far.

“You know I must be a virgin when I wed the emperor,” she whispered. “He will expect it.”

“I know,” Laris said, the pain in his voice as evident as the erection which still pressed against her. “You have told me so many times.”

She soothed him with a hand on his broad, warm chest. He could not know that this denial was as painful for her as it was for him. “But once the wedding night is over, we can be lovers.” It was a thought which had only recently occurredto her, a thought spurred by the stolen moments when Laris was supposed to be guarding the camp. He refused to neglect his duties for more than a few precious moments, but they did have those moments.

“I don’t want to share you,” Laris insisted, and a hint of anger slipped into his voice. “I truly hope the emperor chooses one of the other women to be his empress,” he said sharply, “and then I can have you for my own.” He sighed. “But I know he will not. How could he choose another when he might have you?”

“There, there.” She patted his chest and snuggled even closer. “My marriage will be one of political convenience.” After all, the emperor was more than ten years her senior, practically an old man. If she decided not to use the love potion on the emperor, they could still get along quite well. She could have all the power and things she wanted, without the annoyance of an overly attentive and possessive husband. If that were the case, she’d likely want a young lover to keep things lively in the bedroom. Laris would do, she imagined. Yes, she imagined he’d do very well.

WITH
a start, Alix woke to a shrill, female scream. He’d slept so hard it took a moment for his head to clear. His initial reaction to the scream was one of concern, but given the current state of peace in the country and the disposition of his traveling companions, he quickly decided it was more likely that the princess had seen a snake or a frog in her path as she’d made her way into the forest for a private morning piss. He groaned as he rose to his feet, only to see a commotion around the princess’s tent. Tryfynian soldiers scrambled, and two maids, those who served the princess, held on to one another and cried—and one of them screamed yet again. It had been that scream to which he’d awakened.

The cause of the commotion was likely not a small, harmless creature which could frighten fine ladies with its very existence.

Alix reached for the sword which should have been close at hand, and was alarmed to find that the weapon was gone, not where he always placed it when he slept. The dagger which was always nearby was also missing. His stomach sank, and then his dismay was replaced with alarm. The soldier in him was on alert, ready to react to the next scene in this morning’s excitement and possible danger.

The elder of the Tryfynian guards came bursting from the princess’s tent, his face red and his sword in one hand. He was obviously ready for a fight. “The princess is dead, murdered in her sleep.” In the hand which did not hold his own ready weapon, he held a familiar dagger aloft. “Her throat was cut with this weapon. Who claims this? Who among us would do such a terrible thing?”

The weapon he held aloft was Alix’s, but he had certainly
not
murdered the princess. He stepped toward the scene of the tragedy, ready to explain that the dagger was his but that it had been stolen while he slept. The events of the morning were those of treachery and conspiracy, and they would need to work together to get to the truth.

Alix usually did not sleep so deeply that someone could come close and take his weapons without waking him. He had been a soldier before he’d become a prince, after all, and he still slept like a soldier. Lightly. One ear and one eye always alert.

Until now.

The two maids went into the tent where their mistress lay dead. The sound of their sobbing was muted, but even muffled by the tent those sobs spoke too clearly of sorrow and horror.

Thank goodness
, a part of Alix whispered.
The world is a better place with that one dead and gone.
He shook off the unkind thought. Edlyn had been difficult and sour, but she’d also been a woman—not much more than a girl, to be truthful. To wish her dead was heartless.

“The dagger is mine,” Alix said as he approached the angry soldier. “I assure you I had nothing to do with the princess’s death. Someone took the weapon as I lay sleeping and used it for murderous purposes, no doubt hoping to throw suspicion in my direction.”

The soldier turned accusing eyes to Alix. “You had words with the princess last night, before she retired.”

“I did.” Words he barely remembered. The journey had been a trial, and was obviously taking its toll. “But if I wished to kill her, which I did not, I would not be so foolish as to leave my own dagger at the scene. Obviously someone took advantage of our disagreement last night and went to great pains to make it look as if I did the deed.” But who? Yes, Edlyn had been disagreeable, but who in their traveling party would wish to do murder?

His eyes turned to Vyrn. Vyrn, who had brought him the cider before his unusually deep sleep. Vyrn, whom Sanura said had murder in his soul. She had warned him of the lurking violence, and he’d foolishly dismissed her concern.

One of the maids came bursting from the princess’s tent. “Look!” she shouted, holding aloft a thin yellow blanket. “Only one among us wears this damnable blue on her person.” The girl turned tear-filled, hate-filled eyes to Sanura, who until this moment had watched wordlessly and without emotion. “Why would you kill her?”

“I did not,” Sanura said, her eyes on the long, bright spot of blue which was stark against the yellow blanket.

It was Tari, the skinny red-haired maid, who stepped boldly forward. “They must’ve done the horrible deed together, ” she said in a surprisingly loud voice. She wanted to make sure everyone heard her words. “I did not want to speak of their secrets, but the prince and the whore have been lovers for many weeks.”

“We have not!” Alix insisted.

“I saw you go into her tent many times, sir,” Tari said. She was too brave for a lass who rarely opened her mouth in the presence of others. She was unusually confrontational for a plain, mousy maid. But he was without a weapon at the moment and she was surrounded by protective soldiers, so what was to stop her from speaking her mind—whether she spoke the truth or not?

How strange that while the other maids sobbed and held on to one another, Tari was dry-eyed and calm.

“I’m afraid I saw the same,” Vyrn said in a solemn tone of voice. He pointed to Sanura with an accusing finger. “Just a few nights ago I saw the two of them meeting after the sun had set and the camp slept, but I thoughtlessly turned a blind eye because I felt loyalty to my prince. I had no idea my blind allegiance might lead to a tragedy like this.”

Someone herded Sanura toward Alix, and the other members of the traveling party surrounded them accusingly. Alix heard the whispers, whispers not only from the Tryfynians but from his own sentinels as well. Two others besides Vyrn spoke of seeing Alix go into Sanura’s tent, on one night, at least. They spoke about the fact that the two of them had taken to riding side by side.

Alix searched for a friendly face, but found none. The four sentinels who’d accompanied him on this journey were not those he’d fought with just a few years ago. They knew him only as a prince, a politician, the emperor’s brother. Their respect was commanded, not earned. None of them would defend the murderer of a young girl, no matter how fractious she had been. Even Sanura’s guards, who stood apart from the others, looked shocked at the events which were unfolding.

Sanura sidled up beside him. The music she always made with her movements remained, but on this morning her tune was touched with fear. Alix wanted to reach out and place his arm around her, but of course he could not. Not only did her blue make her untouchable, he did not need to add fuel to the fire which was presently blazing.

“How do we know this is not a trick?” The one sentinel who had apparently not seen him sneak into Sanura’s tent asked his question in a calm voice. “How do we know the princess isn’t sitting in her tent, laughing at this scene she created? The blood on the knife and the blanket might’ve come from an animal. She might’ve set all this up to have a bit of fun with us. You cannot say she is averse to making trouble of any sort.” He nodded his head as if this explanation made more sense to him. Indeed it did, but Alix suspectedthis was no ghoulish prank, and nothing made any sense on this mad morning.

At the instruction of the eldest Tryfynian, a young soldier went into the tent where the murder had apparently taken place. He returned moments later with the princess in his arms. She was dressed in a white nightgown which was soaked in blood, as was much of her once fair hair. Her pale throat had been cut, and she was most definitely dead.

The sight of the dead princess only inflamed the crowd. The rumblings changed, they grew more insistent. There was talk of vengeance, of justice, of not waiting for a proper trial, which would surely be a travesty since one of the accused was the emperor’s brother. The only question seemed to be about the method of execution: decapitation or hanging.

Sanura looked at him and whispered, “We must run.”

Alix shook his head. “Evidence aside, there is no logic in these accusations, and as soon as a bit of time has passed, the others will see it. When these men cool off, they’ll listen to reason.” He knew them. They had traveled together for many weeks, they had followed his command and would soon rein in their overwrought emotions.

“No, they will not,” she insisted. “Paki and Kontar will try to protect me, but they care nothing about you, and even if they did, they have no chance against all these soldiers. They, too, will die. We will all die!”

“You’re panicking, Sanura,” Alix said calmly. “My sentinels will not turn against me. They’re just upset about the princess’s death, as we all should be. I can and will reason with them.”

Sanura stamped her slippered foot and turned to face him. There was fear in her blue eyes, a deep fear such as he had never seen in her. “I want Trystan, now,” she insisted.

He flinched at the unexpected sound of the name he’d used most of his life. “How do you know...” he began.

“Come, Trystan, come forth and save us,” she whispered.She leaned closer and added, “Get us out of here, and I will give you what you most want.”

Alix did not have to wonder what she spoke of. He knew very well what any man would most want from Sanura. His eyes were drawn to the swell of her breasts even now. Something deep inside him twitched.

“When we are safe, I will wrap myself around you and give you pleasure you never knew was possible. We will be lovers, Trystan, lovers such as the world has never before known, and I will be yours and yours alone.”

Why did she keep calling him Trystan? No one used that name anymore. His hands clenched into tight fists.

“Isn’t that what you want? Do not lie to me, Trystan. I see what you want. I know who you are.”

Alix heard the others claim that the murderous lovers were plotting something, and should be separated and restrained. He heard Sanura’s words, her offers, and in response he felt suddenly dizzy. The skies turned an odd, dull gray. His knees wobbled.

And then he was gone.

SANURA
knew the moment Alix left and Trystan emerged. His eyes went dark, and every muscle in his body tensed. He smiled.

“Please try not to kill anyone,” she whispered.

“Why?” he asked, his voice as soft as her own.

“I will make it worth your while, I promise.”

She knew what Trystan wanted most from her. Her body. Her complete surrender. He wanted to own her in the way his brother was meant to. His entire body stiffened at her promise. His eyes went impossibly darker, and she shuddered because for one long moment they were the eyes of a wild animal, not a man.

With her gift, Sanura felt the swelling, murderous intent of the crowd. Some were more intent on justice than others, but none could be called friend at the moment. Not one.

One among them laughed on the inside. It was Vyrn, who was very pleased with himself. Tari felt some regret for her part in this tragedy, but her love was stronger than her regret. The love Tari had found was so strong that Sanura had seen nothing else last night. She had certainly not seen treachery, even though it was now obvious that the tea had been drugged and Tari had taken a bit of the blue powder from the sacred box in order to point the finger at her, as well as at Alix.

Alix thought these men would listen to reason, but he did not feel what she felt, did not see what she saw. They were surrounded by hatred, anger, a need for vengeance which would not be quenched by any logic. Now that the shadows were at the surface, she expected Prince Alixandyr— Trystan—to do something which would save them.

She did not expect him to grab her and rake his beard-roughened cheek boldly and firmly against hers, but that’s what he did. She struggled against the assault, but it was already too late. He held her in a firm grip, hands on her arms to hold her in place as he scraped his cheek over hers. It had been so long since she’d been touched that she held her breath and quivered. No one was meant to live without the touch of another human being, no matter how unwise and uncaring that touch might be.

When Trystan pulled away his stubbled face was smeared with blue. So were his hands, hands which had touched her briefly and unwisely as he’d pressed their faces together. His grin and the touch condemned them.

“What have you done?” she whispered.

Paki and Kontar stepped forward, their every movement slow but determined. They drew the short, curved, very sharp swords they had carried from Claennis and lifted the blades in a threatening way. The soldiers and sentinels watched, stunned by their prince’s actions and the immediate response of the foreigners who were usually so quiet and unobtrusive.

Trystan reacted immediately. Instead of moving away from the two guards, he surged toward them. Determined as they were, they were surprised at the swiftness of his movements, at the laughter. They were then shocked at the accuracy with which the prince disarmed them and took the weapons they wielded.

The forbidden touch had not been foolish after all. Her guards were not as practiced as the soldiers and sentinels among them. The
appearance
of Paki and Kontar, their size, and their evident willingness to do what was necessary were enough to keep men at a distance. They had never been called upon to use their skills, because no one who did not own her had ever dared to touch her. Their presence was more ceremonial than truly threatening. Over the years they had grown careless—and Trystan had seen that in them. He’d disarmed them easily, and now gripped their swords with confidence, one in each hand, as he faced the others.

“The lady and I will be leaving. You!”—he nodded to the nearest sentinel—“ready my horse.”

“I . . . I don’t know...” The young man looked to Vyrn. Trystan responded by placing the tip of the curved blade at the sentinel’s throat. “You do not turn to him for direction, boy. I suggest you turn to me. I will have my dagger, too, and your own sword, if you please. Oddly enough, mine has gone missing.”

Vyrn nodded, and the young sentinel ran to do as he was told.

Trystan faced them all like a madman, a sword in each hand, a wicked smile on his face. If any among them had had doubts that he was capable of murder, they were now gone. “The lady and I are going to leave this inhospitable party. I suggest you do not give chase.”