Warrior (58 page)

He released her as if she’d burned

him and she watched as angry grey

eyes suddenly fell cold. Vulcan

nodded and a snarl twisted his

features.

“Of course, wife. I will do as you’ve

always insisted and listen to you.”

With those parting words, he stood

and made his way over to the

adjoining door.

“Wait!” her voice was sharp, and

Vulcan spun to confront her. She sat

utterly still on the bed, and the

curtains made it hard to see her

expression. “When are my sisters to

return to Lytheria? They have already

grown homesick.”

He hadn’t expected the question and

thought for some moments. “They

may return after I introduce them as

my wards, when the Season has

ended.” Vulcan continued to the door,

opened it and stepped through.

***

Jaisyn closed her eyes and listened

to the soft click of the door closing

before sniffling slightly, an effect of

the slight cold she had, and burrowing

her way back under the warm furs.

She hadn’t meant to tell Vulcan to go

to his mistresses, but after she’d

thrown out her accusation and he

hadn’t even had the decency to deny

it, she’d purposely tried to hurt him.

She knew kings took mistresses. Her

father had even had one. Granted, that

was after her mother’s death, but

Jaisyn wasn’t completely naïve. Still,

the thought of another woman with

her husband, the thought of Calista

with her husband, was enough to send

her into a wild rage.
Lady
Calista, she

scoffed as she thought of the title

placed before her name. She was the

unwed mistress of a king. In Lytheria,

she would be shunned; her family

disgraced. Calista Dakar was no lady.

***

“Vulcan is quite difficult to get along

with, is he not? I am guessing he is

quite different from the men to whom

you are accustomed? The men of

Lytheria?”

Jaisyn started on the comfortable

chair in the ladies’ salon and turned to

face Lady Mor’an, who was waiting

for her invitation to be seated. After

that night in her bed chambers,

Vulcan had continued to ignore her,

and apparently had taken her up on

her invitation to take Calista as a

mistress. It had pained her the first

week, to watch as they conversed

with such familiarity, but Lady

Mor’an had kept her busy with

preparations for the upcoming ball

that marked the start of the summer

season in Morden. Hundreds of

invitations had been drafted and sent

out. What seemed like thousands of

workers had been hired to decorate

the ill-used ballroom at Morden Castle

and Jaisyn’s sisters as well as her

ladies were busy overseeing that.

Vulcan had allowed Lady Mor’an to

prepare and hold the balls at the castle

she occupied in Winterly, another of

his estates he’d provided for his

stepmother’s use.

She used her hands to indicate a

seat for Lady Mor’an, which the

woman gladly took.

“My husband has his moments,”

Jaisyn replied cryptically, wondering

where Lady Mor’an was going with

this conversation.

The lady smiled, revealing her

perfect white teeth. “He is like his

father, Frederick, almost an exact

replica. Like his father, Vulcan is

quite handsome, in that dark and

primitive way, and like Frederick, he

is proud, stubborn, and cold.”

Jaisyn copied her smile, and waited,

sensing there was more.

“Men

like

Vulcan

are

not

accustomed to women such as you,

Jaisyn. In fact, they usually marry

submissive wives, Morden women,

who have been trained from birth to

serve them.”

Lady Mor’an’s smile faded slightly.

“Frederick married a princess from a

smaller

Northern

kingdom

that

bordered Morden. I met her once,

when my father brought me to court,

and you remind me of her. Beautiful,

proud, stubborn. Her name was

Eleanor.” Her voice drifted off and

her eyes seemed slightly glazed as her

memory surfaced. “I’m told she did

not wish the marriage, that she’d

wanted nothing but to remain in her

kingdom. Vulcan was but four years

old when she died, a short five years

after her marriage.”

“And you married King Frederick?”

Jaisyn asked lightly, wondering where

Lady Mor’an was going with this.

As if remembering she wasn’t

talking to herself, Lady Mor’an

blinked rapidly and smiled once more.

“Yes.” Suddenly, she waved a

dismissive hand. “How are you

feeling, dear? Has the morning

sickness passed?”

Jaisyn smiled and answered her

questions but when Lady Mor’an left,

she found herself thinking of what the

lady had divulged. What had she

meant by that statement, that men like

Vulcan usually married submissive

women? And why had she compared

Eleanor to her? Was it because they

had both been foreigners who married

her king? Lydia had changed the

subject abruptly, revealing to Jaisyn

that she had wanted to say more, but

had chosen not to.

At supper, she watched Vulcan as

Calista engaged him in quite an

animated conversation, with those

words running through her mind.

Had Lady Mor’an meant to imply

that Calista would be better suited to

be Vulcan’s wife?

***

It had been a tiring day and Jaisyn

had decided to take her supper in her

room and retire afterwards. Her ladies

and her sisters had opted to do the

same, as they too had begun to feel

the results of running around from

early in the morning in preparations

for the ball that was to be held

tomorrow. The Morden summer had

come, and with soft but cool winds.

The garden outside of the salon, had

sprouted little flowers.

She sat on her bed, her eyes

practically closing, as Asha combed

through her hair. When she was

finished, Magda handed her the herbal

tea. Jaisyn drained the cup, and

crawled under the covers, ready for a

long night of uninterrupted dreams.

She was asleep as soon as her head

hit the soft pillow.

***

Vulcan was surprised when Lady

Jane briefly entered the Great Hall to

announce the queen was indisposed.

Supper began as usual, but Lady

Calista found Vulcan to be unusually

quiet this particular eve.

He waited patiently until the

servants were removing the platters

from the table before excusing himself

and leaving the Great Hall. He moved

purposefully up the staircase, not

stopping until he came to his wife’s

chambers. Two guards were stationed

at the end of the hallway. Vulcan

pushed her door in, intent on

demanding why she hadn’t been to

supper, when he noticed that the room

was unusually quiet. The small fire

crackling in the corner was the only

sound coming from within. His eyes

searched out the bed and he saw a

bump under the covers. Closing the

door softly, he walked over to the bed.

His wife was sleeping. She was on her

back this time, her lips slightly parted.

Feeling the anger seep from his

body, he watched her for a few more

moments. He’d thought she had

avoided

supper

to

anger

him

somehow, but he now saw that she

was only tired. In the past weeks,

they’d spoken only when necessary

and only about things that had to do

with the castle, or the court season.

Vulcan had taken to asking Magda

about her health, and every time he’d

asked, he’d been reassured that she

and the baby were perfectly fine. By

now, Jaisyn was slightly over three

months with child, but with the

flowing gowns that she wore, it was

not obvious. Still, when she walked by

him, or stood before him, he found his

eyes lowering to her belly, looking for

an indication that their child was

growing there. An image entered his

mind, of Jaisyn balancing a crying

baby on her hip but just as soon as it

came, it went. Would she be that kind

of mother? Or would she be like Lydia

had been with Varian? Cuddling him

until she needed to host an event, or

entertain guests, and then foisting him

off on a wet nurse?

***

“Vulcan?”

At first Jaisyn thought that she was

dreaming, that she was caught in

some fantasyland where her husband

was staring down at her, his

expression open, his eyes curious. As

soon as his name escaped her lips, he

took a step back, his face closed once

more, and she heard a gruff, “Sleep”

before he turned and headed to his

room.

She might have sat up and stared

after him, but she was extremely tired,

and sleeping for mere hours had done

little to help.

***

Lydia had told Jaisyn exactly what

would be expected of her this night.

Lytheria held courts as well, but

nothing so elaborate as the ones of

Morden.

The

Lytherian

courts

consisted of balls, masquerades,

manor parties, and other gatherings,

that would last for a total of two

months of the year. It was informal,

with court being held wherever the

royal family wished. The Morden

court was very formal, with the first

ball of the Season being held by a

ranking royal, preferably at Morden

Castle, and the final ball being held by

a member of the royal family as well.

She’d been told that for this event, she

would be required to sit beside her

husband and smile, while nobles from

far and near paid their respects and

swore their loyalties. As the lady

schooled her about her behavior,

Jaisyn quickly came to realize that

tonight would not actually be so much

a ball as it would be a meet-the-royals

event.

So, she sat with her hands folded

neatly in the lap of her elaborate white

and gold gown, and watched as noble

upon noble was presented. Inwardly,

she sighed. She’d stolen a glance once

at her husband, who looked stoic and

a little bored. She smiled when at the

thought he must be suffering as much

as she was. Vulcan was a King, a

High King, but he was more warrior

than charming overlord.

As more nobles came forth and

bowed before them, she turned her

head slightly aside, to where her

sisters stood. They were both gowned

to perfection in the dresses they’d

ordered from Madame, and were

currently talking to each other. Isolde

wore a beautiful but demure pink

gown and had removed the cap from

her head for the night. With her hair

curled prettily, Isolde looked much

younger than her eighteen years.

Mathilda wore a charming yellow

gown that set off her eyes. As she

stared hard, she thought “SunFlower”

would be the appropriate name for her

sister tonight. She barely suppressed

the chuckle that would no doubt

mortify Lady Mor’an.

“Presenting…the King of Montak,

Bael Cristof de Renald,” the page

called and Jaisyn immediately turned

to face the man. Another king bowing

to Vulcan? Of course. Her husband

was overlord to many of the smaller

kingdoms of the north, just as he was

overlord of Lytheria.

Bael de Renald was alone. There

was no queen at his side, no sister he

wished to bring before the royal

family. He swept Vulcan with a

dismissive glance that bordered on

rude,

bowed