Warrior (24 page)

then she cleared her throat and

deepened her tone as she answered.

“Aye, priestess?”

***

with the squire. She’d obviously sent

him on an errand, for she seemed to

be asking after something. He looked

over the squire once more, unsure of

what it was about the young man that

struck a nerve with him. He couldn’t

be more than sixteen, although tall for

his age, and he could surely use a

good scrubbing with all that dirt caked

onto his face.

“My lord, was there something that

you wanted from Jamie?” Ishat

suddenly turned to address him and

Varian stared at Jamie long and hard

for a few moments before dismissing

him altogether.

He bowed his head slightly as a

slight smile touched his lips. “No,

Priestess. Good day to you.”

Ishat beamed at him, a radiant smile

from a beautiful woman. “And you,

Prince Varian.”

***

Ishat and Jamie made their way over

to the Castle Temple. As soon as they

stepped in, Jaisyn surveyed the

temple. No one was there, save them.

“Thank you, Ishat,” Jaisyn told the

High Priestess immediately, knowing

that Ishat had gone against some of

her teachings to help her from her

predicament.

“You must stop this, my child,”

Ishat began as they walked to the

altar. “I know that you practice by the

lake with Malcolm and I know that

your husband will not find it amusing

should he find out.”

“My husband finds nothing amusing,

Ishat,” Jaisyn countered, although she

understood what the priestess meant.

When they arrived at the altar, Ishat

turned to face Jaisyn, a small smile on

her face. “Jaisyn, you have always

been the strongest of your sisters, the

most level-headed. What do you think

your husband would do if he finds out

that you have been spending time,

alone, with a Lytherian soldier?”

Jaisyn sighed. “How else am I to

practice my sword arm, Ishat?”

“Perhaps fighting is behind you

now, my queen,” Ishat told her

seriously and Jaisyn turned to her with

a hard glare. Was that a premonition

or an opinion? She hoped it was the

former. “Perhaps it is time to settle

yourself, to release old wounds, to

love your husband, to become mother

to a future generation—”

Jaisyn laughed harshly. “Ishat, I

hold no love for my husband, as you

well know. I only married him to

protect Mathilda from a miserable

life.”

Ishat pinned Jaisyn with a serious

stare and nodded. Turning away from

Jaisyn, she looked to the statue of

Lyria that sat beside the altar. “I have

prayed to Lyria numerous times,

Jaisyn. You are most compatible with

the king of Morden. Lyria approved

strongly of your marriage.”

Unsure what that was supposed to

mean, Jaisyn replied bitterly, “And yet

you betrothed my younger sister to

him.”

Ishat’s eyes left the statue to meet

Jaisyn’s. “Yes, we did. We had little

choice in the matter. If Wilhelm and I

had betrothed you to Vulcan, you

would have fled or found a way out of

it. The only thing that we could do to

ensure the marriage was to betroth

Mathilda and hope that you acted

according to character and took her

place.”

Jaisyn’s initial shock at those words

gave way to hot anger. Of course.

That made perfect sense. Her father

had no intention of marrying Mathilda

to Vulcan; he wanted her to marry

Vulcan. She would have cursed if she

weren’t standing in a holy Temple.

“What if I had not taken Matty’s

place?” Jaisyn asked very quietly,

clasping her hands together to keep

the violent trembling at bay. She was

too upset to speak above a harsh

whisper.

Ishat turned back to the altar. “We

trusted that you would and you did.”

“You will excuse me, Priestess. I

suddenly find the urge to be far from

your presence,” Jaisyn hissed and

spun around to leave Ishat to her

prayers.

“Jaisyn,” Ishat’s voice called out to

her as she was approaching the

double doors. “Everything that was

done was done to make sure that the

people of Lytheria would continue to

prosper.”

Jaisyn continued toward the doors.

She did not care for excuses. She’d

married Vulcan, thinking it had been

for the sake of her sister, when in

actuality, her father and her priestess

had planned it so. She felt betrayed;

worse, with Malcolm prepared to

leave Lytheria, she felt alone.

***

Varian had been searching for

Jaisyn when he’d come across a

pretty serving wench who’d beckoned

him close. In less than five minutes,

the serving wench—he forgot her

name—had been under him as she

screamed out the names of different

goddesses and he drove himself, and

her, to completion. Spent, and

invigorated,

Varian

had

righted

himself, and decided to go in search of

the queen once more. He’d recently

noticed

that

Jaisyn

usually

disappeared for about an hour during

the days. He hadn’t told Vulcan as

yet, because his brother would no

doubt try to scare it out of his wife,

and Varian had a feeling that that

would not work. On a lesser woman,

it would, but not on Jaisyn of

Lytheria. He was still rearranging his

breeches when he stepped from the

room, one of the many empty

bedrooms in the castle, and came face

to face with Isolde.

She was alone. An alluring smile

touched his lips and he easily pulled

the breeches together, smiling as a

blush stained her cheeks and her lips

tightened. He leaned languidly against

the wall.

“Well, Princess Isolde, from where

do you hail?” he asked slowly. His

eyes took in every inch of her face,

especially her soft pink lips. When he

was through with that, he surveyed

her neck, long and graceful, before

dropping his gaze to the dress she

wore. It was a demure piece: an off-

white day dress with intricate patterns

of red and green highlighting it. The

neckline was high—as usual—and it

flowed all the way to her ankles,

barely exposing the soft boots on her

tiny feet.

“I was unaware that I was to report

to you, Prince Varian,” Isolde replied

haughtily, glaring down her nose at

him.

Varian pushed off of the wall and

approached her. A look of fear passed

over her features before she narrowed

her eyes and tilted her face to the

side, as one does when a petulant

child is being irate.

He stopped inches away from her.

“Well, now you are aware, Princess.

Where have you been?”

***

His question was asked calmly,

without a hint of malice, and although

the smile remained, Isolde knew he

was serious. Very serious. Over the

past days, she’d learned to read him.

Unlike his brother, Varian always

appeared relaxed, but for all their

ruthlessness, they were the same. The

only difference was that with Varian,

you never saw it coming.

“Not that it is any concern of yours,

Prince Varian, but I took a walk

through the city.”

“Alone?” Varian asked softly.

“No.” Isolde’s eyes flashed fire as

she continued, “I was accompanied

by my sister, my ladies and our

guards, of course.”

“Of

course,”

Varian

nodded.

“Which sister?”

“My sister, Princess Mathilda.”

“And did you enjoy your walk?”

“I enjoyed the entire day, that is,”

she paused for effect, “up until now.”

“Of course you did,” he agreed and

stepped away from her. “I won’t keep

you any longer, Princess. I have no

wish to make your day even worse.”

With that, he walked around her and

headed for the staircase. Isolde shook

her head after him. She disliked

Vulcan Mor’an, but she was certain

that what she felt for his brother was

closer to hate than anything else.

***

“Where were you?”

Jaisyn had barely made it into her

chambers when Vulcan approached

her. He was in the solar, naked from

the waist up. She guessed he’d taken

a bath and from the smoothness of his

face, had been shaved as well.

Trying to think up a really good lie

that was somehow steeped in truth,

Jaisyn said, “I’ve been with Ishat.”

Vulcan came to a halt directly in

front of her, his eyes searching hers.

“In the Temple?”

Deciding

that

he

would

not

appreciate it he she told him that

she’d stepped foot off of the castle

grounds, she nodded and stepped

around him.

He followed her and Jaisyn felt the

heat of his body brush up against hers

as she came to a halt in the adjoining

room. She’d already asked Magda to

see to her bath so she’d been intent on

sitting on the soft cushions by the

window and waiting for the water to

be brought.

Vulcan’s arms circled her waist and

pulled her body against his. The

achingly hard part of his anatomy

pressed into her back and Jaisyn

gasped. Her hands reached down to

his, where they were clasped over her

belly, and she tried to pry them away.

She couldn’t do this. Not now. She

was sweaty and tired and not in the

best of moods.

Vulcan managed to nuzzle her hair

and neck before she escaped his

clutches and moved past the tub, over

to the window.

“What is the matter, wife?” Vulcan

asked, his voice slightly edgy. “Will

you deny me what is mine?”

Jaisyn turned to face him and said,

in what she hoped was a rational

voice, “Although I am your wife,

Vulcan of Morden, I am neither your

slave nor serf. I still belong to myself.”

“Is that what you think… wife?”

Vulcan asked menacingly, and Jaisyn

watched, surprisingly unafraid, as he

walked, or rather, stalked, over to her.

His large body blocked her view of

everything as he looked down at her.

“You are mine… to do with as
I see

fit
. And right now, Jaisyn, I see fit to

have you.”

Before she could bat an eye, he

grabbed her hand and placed it up

against the part of him that was

straining to be free of his breeches.

Jaisyn gasped. Vulcan had never put

her hand to him before. She tried to

pull back but his much larger hand

held onto her tightly. She gnashed her

teeth together and bit out, “Release

me at once.”

A rough chuckle escaped him. “You

defy me even when you know of the

pleasures I can give you.”

With that, he released her. Her

triumph was short-lived however,

when he picked her up as if she

weighed no more than a feather and

proceeded into the main chamber.

Jaisyn kicked and screamed and even

cursed at him but he didn’t release her

until they approached the large bed.

When he did, she found herself landed

in the middle of it, a heap of flesh,

cloth, and golden hair.

“You have no sense of decency—”

Jaisyn begun, prepared to give him the

sound tongue lashing that he deserved.

He was suddenly over her, his lips

against her throat. “Witch. You’ve

robbed me of my sense of decency,

among other things. What spell have

you used to bewitch me?”

***

Those words left her speechless for

a few moments as she stared at the

top of his head. That was all Vulcan

needed. He lifted his head and