The Stones of Kaldaar (Song of the Swords Book 1) Read online

  Rhoane called her name, but she ran from them, not stopping until she reached her room. She slammed the door behind her and turned the key in the lock with a savage twist. Her breath came in jagged gasps as she leaned her head against the wood.

  When she turned around, Lorilee and Mayla stared at her. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was much harsher than she’d meant.

  “We’re to help prepare you for sleep, miss.”

  Taryn kept silent while they unpinned her braids, but when they tried to help her into a nightdress, she drew the line. They were getting too familiar with her, and boundaries needed to be set.

  THE next morning, Taryn woke early and slipped from her room before Mayla or Lorilee could arrive to help her dress. She wasn’t accustomed to having someone assist her with things she’d been doing her entire life. After wandering lost for a while, Taryn finally asked a servant to help her locate the kitchens.

  She knocked on the open doorframe, but the busy workers ignored her. Two steps into the interior, however, drew the attention of a woman Taryn’s height with dark curls and a pretty, heart shaped face.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, her gaze locked on Taryn’s face. A hum of voices tickled her mind, and her pendant thrummed pleasantly.

  “I don’t mean to be a bother, but I’d like something to eat.”

  “And you thought you could walk into my kitchens and help yourself, yes?”

  “Well, kind of. It seemed a bit silly to have someone bring me food when I’m perfectly capable of getting it myself.”

  The cook bit her cheek, making a hollow below her lovely green eyes. “And who shall I tell the duke is an impertinent guest?”

  Taryn grinned at the cook’s brashness. “Taryn, and I’m sure he won’t be surprised.”

  The humming heightened and then lowered to a hush. A subtle change came over the cook. “Ah yes. The mysterious guest of the duke. Sit here while I have a meal prepared for you.”

  She sat alone at a table while she ate, ignoring the strange looks and barely tempered whispers. They could say whatever they wished, she was not, nor would she ever be, one of the stuffy courtiers upstairs, and the sooner everyone realized that, the better.

  Meal finished, she called out her thanks to the cook, who gave a quick nod, adding, “You are welcome to dine in my kitchen anytime you wish.” A few maids looked up in surprise.

  Taryn inclined her head, hiding a smile. “I hope you can join me sometime.” The look on the women’s faces kept Taryn grinning wickedly all the way to the yard.

  After an especially brutal training session with Baehlon, Taryn sought refuge in her room but was waylaid by Margaret Tan. She bustled into Taryn’s suite, giving directions to her assistants and ordering Taryn to strip, all in one breath. Mayla and Lorilee scampered out of her way while she set up equipment in the sitting room. When Taryn saw the pile of clothing her assistant held, her stomach dipped at the growing debt she owed the duke.

  Taryn stood self consciously, wearing what Margaret Tan called ‘small clothes’, which were nothing more than a few strips of fabric, and willed the minutes to tick past. The seamstress and her assistants didn’t care if Taryn wasn’t accustomed to undressing in front of people. When one of the assistants stood to adjust her blouse, she blanched. Shorter than her by half a head with a face prettier than some of the girls at the palace, she’d mistaken him for female. She sucked in a breath as he tucked the fabric around her waist, certain he could hear her racing heart.

  Margaret Tan slapped her leg, commanding her to stop squirming. “Don’t mind Tarro. He doesn’t like girls.”

  The pretty young man looked up at her and nodded. “All of this,” he waved at her breasts and privates, “is wasted on me.”

  Despite his claim, she was mortified he’d seen her naked. She rushed through trying on each outfit. But when Margaret Tan held out her dress for the masque, Taryn’s breath caught. Brandt would have been overjoyed to see her in the beautiful creation.

  Ice blue gossamer folds swept the ground, with tiny rhinestones dotting the skirt, giving the gown a starlit radiance. The silk bodice hugged her form, accentuating her curves in just the right places. Tarro handed her matching silk slippers and a mask made of silver with light blue feathers.

  “It’s gorgeous. I feel like a princess.”

  Margaret Tan nodded. “You look like a princess. Now, take it off before you ruin it.” Tarro carefully hung it in the dressing room.

  As the seamstress arranged her supplies in a basket, Taryn surreptitiously looked through her fabrics.

  “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” Tarro’s vibrato voice whispered beside her.

  Taryn jerked her hand away, blushing. “I was um, looking for leather.”

  “Leather?” A wicked smile lit up his face. “For what?”

  “Well, pants for one, but also I want to make a ball. You know, to kick?”

  He shook his head, the smile growing wider. “You are a mystery. I like that.” He glanced quickly at Margaret Tan, “Let me see what I can do. Is there anything else you’d like?”

  Scribbling quickly, Taryn sketched out a ball and several items she wouldn’t mind adding to her wardrobe. Decent small clothes topped the list. Tarro took the paper and tucked it into his pocket with a wink and quick shake of his head toward Margaret Tan.

  After they left, she stared at the dress for a long time, wondering how much something like it would cost. She needed to find a job if she were ever to repay Anje. The only problem was she didn’t know what she was qualified to do.

  The warmth of the summer day beckoned, and she rooted through the clothes in her armoire until she found loose-fitting slacks and a deep-blue blouse. They were the closest things she could find to shorts and far more comfortable in Paderau’s heat than the fragile dresses Hayden had selected. She avoided the garden room and skirted the orchards to the river where she walked along the shore and mulled over her predicament. Her archeological skills wouldn’t help her unless Aelinae had a need for such a person, which she doubted. She could certainly learn a trade, but what and where?

  Rhoane moved in step beside her, startling her. “For gods’ sake, Rhoane. You scared the crap out of me.” The black court doublet and leather pants gave a dangerous edge to his look. As always, he wore Eleri boots polished to a high sheen.

  “I did not tread lightly. I thought you heard my approach.”

  “I was distracted.”

  “I spoke with Baehlon this morning. He says your sword work is coming along well and you taught him some of your fighting techniques. He is impressed with your speed and dexterity.”

  “He’s too stiff. He needs to do stretches to loosen up. Some of the other soldiers were watching and want to join us.” She glanced sideways at him. “Do you think Duke Anje would mind?”

  “I think he would be most grateful. A soldier can never be too skilled.” He took her hand in his, tracing the runes on her wrist. “I owe you an apology, Taryn. I should have told you I was a prince.”

  “Why didn’t you?” She cursed herself for the hurt that sounded in her voice.

  “It was, and is, important to me that you know me as a man before you see me as a prince.” His eyes sought hers. There was an emotion and meaning behind his words she didn’t fully understand.

  “I have to admit, if I’d known you were nobility, I don’t know whether my perception of you would’ve been different. I’d like to think not, but who’s to say?”

  “I appreciate your understanding.” He kissed her fingertips, holding them against his lips a moment too long before she pulled them free.

  They walked along the shore to where the massive Kiltern River split in two, making a natural moat around Paderau. Boats floated up and down stream, bringing goods from Ulla to Paderau and then on farther south to Talaith.

  “As for the other matter,” Rhoane said in a quiet voice.

  “Your betrothal to Marissa?”

  “I
am not betrothed to Marissa.”

  “I heard you talking last night.” Taryn absently traced the runes on her hand.

  “Marissa and I have been friends since she was a young girl. I have never once looked at her in any other way.”

  “So you’re not betrothed?”

  “Not to Marissa, no.”

  “Someone else then?”

  He glanced out over the river toward the north. “A betrothal is an agreement that two people will be married at some time in their lives. It can be broken, and I believe it should be if the two do not love one another. When I was born, it was foretold with whom I would mate. Eleri mate for life with only one partner, and I have known about this match my entire life. But the woman in question is as yet unaware. I will not force her to be my partner unless she loves me and agrees to the conditions set forth by the Eleri.”

  He stopped, and she turned back to him, not wanting to hear more about his betrothed and yet needing to know every detail.

  “Do you love her?”

  Rhoane took her marked hand in his and traced the runes with his thumb. “Tell me,Darennsai, why is this so important to you?”

  She liked the way her hand felt in his, the flow of his Shanti over her skin. She liked it a little too much. She forced herself to withdraw her hand, the words heavy on her tongue. “I’ve decided to ask the duke to help me find Nadra so that we might undo our bonds. I thought you should know before I leave Paderau.”

  “Where will you go?” A thrum of panic lifted the undercurrent of his words.

  “When I promised Brandt I’d stay with you, it was mostly so you’d help me avenge his death. But now, I don’t know, everything’s changed.”

  “Nothing has changed, Taryn. Not me, if that is what you are implying.”

  “I didn’t know you were promised to another. Not that I mind, but it wouldn’t be fair to her to have me hanging around. It will just be better if I go and leave you to your life while I make my own.”

  He took her hand again, rubbing his thumb over her runes. “I never meant to hurt you. If I had thought for one moment that someone’s loose tongue would cause you pain, I would have told you everything on that first day in the cavern.”

  “Brandt told me I could trust you. And I want to with all my heart.”

  “I will never lie to you, Taryn.”

  “You kept a couple of important details from me—that’s like lying.”

  “No, I was trying not to frighten you. I have lived a long time, and there is much to tell of my story. I did not want to burden you with everything at once. If we are to be friends, you will have to learn to trust me implicitly. I will have to do the same.”

  “You have no idea how much I’d like that, but I don’t like secrets.”

  “Neither do I. However, there might come a time when you will have the choice to tell me something that could hurt me or to keep it to yourself to save my feelings. I will understand, should that ever happen.”

  He kissed the insides of her wrists, and white heat twisted her gut. “Exactly how old are you, anyway?”

  “One hundred eighty-seven this past harvest.”

  “Seriously? How long do the Eleri live?”

  “Several thousand seasons if one is lucky.”

  “That’s a long time.” His betrothed was probably an Eleri princess, and they would live a long and happy life.

  “Will you postpone your plans until we reach Talaith? I know the duke enjoys your company and would be vexed if you left. Just until Talaith, and then we can send for Nadra, if you so desire.”

  She was close enough to feel his body heat, smell the scent of forest and loam that intoxicated her. “How long will that be?”

  “A fortnight or so.” He put his hand against hers, and the runes sparked to life. A tremor ran the length of her, igniting a flame that burned low and deep. A small moan slipped from her throat to her lips.

  Rhoane pulled away so suddenly she reeled back. “What’s wrong?”

  “I must go.”

  “Rhoane.” Taryn’s voice was low, needy. She reached for him but did not touch him. “I’ll wait until Talaith.”

  They stood apart for several moments, waves of heat pulsing from him to her and back.

  “Promise you will never doubt me again?” Rhoane said at last, his voice a raw whisper.

  “I promise.”

  He closed the space between them and held her face in his hands. His lips brushed against hers, tentative. Unexpected, but not unwanted. She gave in to the sensations of hot and cold that teased her nerves, making her knees give way. Rhoane pulled her against him, steadying her. His lips pressed harder, urgent in their need. She should stop him, remind him he was betrothed, but she let him kiss her.

  He tasted of crisp green apple and mint. Her hands scraped over his silk tunic to the base of his neck. When her fingertips touched his skin, searing heat pulsed through her, blocking out all thought save for Rhoane. He was ice and fire, love and death, lust and longing. His hands roamed over her back to her hair, stroking her braids before pulling them taut. His lips stayed on hers, his tongue exploring, probing, teasing until she buzzed with an impatient hunger.

  When he lifted his head, she swooned with the sudden release.“Tan rael danlith, Darennsai.”

  “What does that mean?” Through the fog in her brain, she could still feel his lips on hers.

  “It is an Eleri custom to wish one good fortune on their birthing day. Today you are thirty-five summers.” She was touched he remembered. For the better part of the day, she’d been trying to forget.

  “Best birthday gift ever.” She grinned, pushing aside the slice of guilt that nagged her happiness.

  “Today, you have reached your majority.”

  “My majority?” She tore her gaze away from his lips, from the slight redness and swelling she knew she’d caused.

  “For those with power, it is when their strength is fully realized. For those without it, is when they are considered adults and have no more allegiance to their parents. Although the latter is more a technicality because familial honor is strong on Aelinae.”

  His words sobered her. She had no family on Aelinae. No honor. No allegiance. A wave of sadness almost crushed her. “I wish Brandt were here.”

  Rhoane wrapped his arms protectively around her, and she resisted the urge to snuggle into him.

  “He is, Taryn. Every day he is with you; you just need to know where to look.”

  “Why did he have to leave Aelinae? Was he banished?”

  Rhoane’s chest rose and lowered with his deep inhales, his heart beating a fierce rhythm echoed by her own. The song of her sword played mournfully in her mind.

  “Banished? No. Brandt held a position of great importance to the empress. When we reach Talaith, I am sure she will explain everything to you.”

  No good would come of speculation, so Taryn pushed aside thoughts of Talaith and Brandt and the empress. It was her birthday; she didn’t want to be sad. Lifting her face to his, she asked, “Will you dance with me tonight? Margaret Tan made me this dress and Hayden taught me all those steps—it would be a shame to waste all their hard work.”

  His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I will dance with you if you let me train with you tomorrow.”

  “Deal.”

  He turned to leave but hesitated, his gaze razing the slacks and blouse she wore. “And to think you told me you do not wear gowns.”

  “I’m full of all kinds of surprises,Your Highness.” Her curtsey, reserved for the highest ranking rulers only, skimmed the ground.

  His chuckle drifted in his wake as he walked away, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. When they faded completely, she exhaled the breath she’d been holding.

  The kiss was for her birthday. It meant nothing.

  He wasn’t hers, could never be hers.

  Chapter 16

  THE ceiling of the grand ballroom had been painted in painstaking detail to resemble the night sky. ShantiMari stars t
winkled against the midnight background, and misty nebulae of pinks and purples scattered across the cosmic space. With the enhanced lighting, it looked magical, enchanted. It took Taryn several minutes to accustom her sight to that much ShantiMari, but eventually she was able to mute the threads until they were barely noticeable.

  The gems in Taryn’s gown caught the light of every candle they passed, winking in and out, casting rainbows of color across the floor. She fidgeted beside Baehlon, who looked resplendent in a crimson doublet and hose. His mask of gold feathers rested atop his braids, which he’d adorned with golden bells for the evening.

  “Don’t be nervous,” his deep bass whispered.

  High ranking men and women from all over Aelinae came to Paderau for Hayden’s masques. It was a tradition started after the birth of the duke’s firstborn, and it continued with his only surviving child. For the partygoers, it was a chance to reconnect with friends, discuss business, and of course, to mingle with nobility.

  Every style of clothing was represented, from the loose-fitting slacks of the Ullan men, to the tight, almost suffocating, leather corsets of the warrior women known as Sitari. Their scarred faces and blue, tattooed bodies were a stark contrast to the pale Aelan women. Feathers adorned masks, some covering faces but most resting atop dramatically styled hair. Jewels of every shape and color bedecked throats, arms, ears, and wrists—even ankles for the Summerlands women. The glittering array of wealth exposed Taryn’s plainness, assured her insignificance.

  Baehlon led her through the room, nodding in greeting to several people. Curious stares followed wherever they went.

  “See? They know I’m not one of them.”

  Baehlon’s soft chuckle caressed her battered nerves. “Thank the gods you aren’t. Pompous arses, every one. If you ever become like them, I’ll take a switch to your backside.”

  “You do, and I’ll do more than toss you on your back.”

  “There it is! Keep that fire, girl, and ignore what the court thinks.”