The Stones of Resurrection Read online

  She arrived at the training ring just as eighth bell tolled. Baehlon trailed a few minutes later, followed by twenty or so soldiers. They were well into their warm-up when Rhoane arrived, looking slightly less disheveled than he had earlier.

  The lesson went better than she could’ve hoped. The soldiers, all trained in fighting and weaponry, caught on to the forms quickly. After two bells, she called an end to the training with the promise of another lesson in two days’ time.

  Rhoane caught up to her halfway to the palace. Rivulets of sweat coursed down the sides of his face, and his tunic was stained from his exertion. “What is it you are fond of saying? That kicked my ass.”

  A little thrill trumpeted through her. If Rhoane found it difficult, she’d taught it right. “You did well today. I’m impressed.”

  “I will be feeling my age later, I am sure.”

  “Yes, you will, old man.” She glanced at the courtiers who mingled throughout the room. “I need to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  “Not here.”

  She rushed through the hallways with Rhoane beside her. Once they were in her rooms, Rhoane ensconced them in a ward for privacy.

  “At Ravenwood,” she began, not certain how Rhoane would react to what she had to say but certain he needed to hear it, “I saw Valterys in the hallway with you and the others. Don’t ask me how because I’m not sure. Anyway, he was demanding the sword, so everyone thought he put the damned thing over Hayden’s chest. But he went to the room you were standing in front of, not Hayden’s room. I didn’t think about it at the time because I was in too much pain, but this morning I realized that if he had been the one to put the sword over Hayden, wouldn’t he remember which room it was in? Hayden’s room was down the hall in the opposite direction.” She waited for him to process what she’d said.

  “If not Valterys, then who tried to kill Hayden?” Rhoane paced around the room, stopping in front of the windows.

  Taryn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I think it was Marissa.”

  His hands gripped the windowsill until his knuckles turned white. “It cannot be. She is heir to the Light Throne.”

  “And that means what?”

  “She is the crown princess and when Lliandra dies, she will become the next empress, the Lady of Light and sit on the Light Throne.”

  “Is it really made of light?”

  Rhoane chuckled. “Not of its own accord.”

  “Okay well, Light stuff aside, Marissa has the same color ShantiMari that was holding the sword over Hayden.”

  “Is it not possible for someone else to have the same as her?”

  Taryn did her best to explain the subtle nuances she saw. “From what I can tell, the color of one’s ShantiMari is tied to the shade of their eyes. I first noticed it in the cavern, remember, when you asked what lights I saw? Well, Brandt’s Shanti was amber, like his eyes, yours pale green, Zakael’s grey, etc. Then I started to notice everyone’s power has a certain feel to it, like a signature. Faelara’s is nurturing, Myrddin’s cool, yours protective. What I felt in my dream was the same as the ShantiMari at Ravenwood and, again when I met Marissa the first day in the garden room. It wasn’t until this morning that I put everything together.”

  Rhoane stood facing her, his face pinched with discord. “You must understand. I have known Marissa her whole life. She can be petty at times, but what you are suggesting is beyond treason.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry, Rhoane. I didn’t want to believe it, either. Everyone loves her. But if she’s the one who did that to Hayden, don’t we need to know?”

  “I cannot in good conscience call into question the motives of the crown princess. Still, you make a valid point that if she is involved with Valterys somehow,” he paused, shaking his head, “I hate to even think it, but we should watch her.”

  “We need someone on the inside, like Sabina.”

  His look told her he didn’t like the suggestion, but after a few moments, he nodded. “We must be discreet. Are you certain you can trust the Summerlands princess?”

  “No, but then again, I don’t know that I can trust you, either. That’s why it’s called faith. You need to have some in me right now, and we both need to have a little in Sabina.” Taryn pointed to her bedroom. “Someone broke in here last night, trying to steal the sword. Tell yourself that it wasn’t Marissa all you want, but my money’s on the woman who had suspicious blisters on her fingertips. My guess is, she’s playing both sides, and she’s the one who can’t be trusted.”

  “Unfortunately, right now that is all you have—a guess. Until we have proof, we cannot do anything to cause alarm.”

  A timid knock at the door startled them.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Rhoane asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Taryn opened the door to Margaret Tan’s assistant Tarro.

  “I have your gown for tonight. And this…” He held up a wobbly looking blob of leather.

  “Oh my God, you didn’t?” At Tarro’s sheepish look and slight blush, she threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you! I don’t know how I can ever repay you.” She took the leather sack from him and bounced it on her foot several times while Tarro hung her dress in the other room.

  “What is it?” Rhoane asked, his head cocked to the side.

  “A football. It needs air, though.” A mischievous smile crept up to her cheeks. “Do you think you could, you know, add a bit of ShantiMari to the ball, and make it airtight?”

  “Is this for the game you told me about?” Rhoane took the leather from her, rolled it in his hands, and examined it from all angles.

  “Yes. And if you give the ball some bounce, we can have a game later. Can you do it?”

  Rhoane pressed his hands together, squishing the ball. Slowly, it began to inflate until filled. Taryn squeezed it a few times before bouncing it on the floor. Satisfied it would do, she dribbled the ball around her room before kicking it gently onto a love seat.

  “Brilliant. Can you find Hayden and see if he wants to play? We’ll need at least ten people.”

  Rhoane looked unconvinced. “If that is your wish, I will seek out players.” His glance took in Tarro and returned to her. “As for the other issue, we will continue our discussion later.”

  “I’m breathless with anticipation.”

  He left with a chuckle and shake of his head. When the door clicked shut, Taryn turned to Tarro. “I need shorts, a T-shirt, and shoes. What have we got to work with?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The empress and her daughters sat beneath a small pavilion as they watched Taryn’s spectacle on the grass. Once word spread that the Offlander wished to partake of a ball game, Lliandra insisted her brood attend.

  Marissa fanned herself against the afternoon heat and stifled a yawn. Thus far, Taryn’s game consisted of twelve young lordlings dressed in breeches and hose, running across the lawn chasing a lump of leather. At least the lords were shirtless. That gave her something interesting to watch. She fixed her gaze on Rhoane; he alone wore a cotton tunic over his leather breeches. Damn him and his sense of propriety.

  Taryn trotted past wearing a ridiculous costume of short pants, a loose-fitting black top that did nothing for her figure, and work boots. She called out instructions to the men on the field, waving her hands to emphasize her words.

  “She’s rather remarkable, don’t you think?” Tessa asked in her breathy little girl voice.

  “She’s odd.” That was Eliahnna. Honest. Blunt.

  Lliandra remained silent, her eyes tracking Taryn’s every move.

  “What is the purpose of this game?” Marissa asked no one in particular.

  “Does it need a purpose?” Sabina answered, her gaze fixed on Lord Valen’s bare chest.

  “Hayden seems rather adept at it,” Marissa teased. To her right, Herbret twisted the ring he wore on his pinky finger. If he worried
it any harder, he might cut off the appendage. Marissa derived a small amount of satisfaction at seeing him upset. He’d taken the empress’s silence regarding his betrothal request as approval and had been far too lax in his comportment. Herbret’s money meant he could afford to offend Marissa, but his lack of royal blood and lesser title meant he needed her on his side. Something he’d forgotten in the last few weeks.

  Their eyes met, and Marissa’s smile dripped treacle, it was so sweet. Herbret looked momentarily nervous, then sat up straight and met her smile with one of his own. Acidic enough to burn through the sugar.

  Defiance wasn’t like Herbret. He was a coward when it came down to it. She doubted he acted alone, which meant someone had to be coaxing him. Whoever it was, Marissa would find him and destroy him. No one took what was rightfully hers, and Herbret had been her pet for too long. He knew enough about her indiscretions to make him dangerous but not enough to derail her plans.

  Marissa licked her lips, a slow turn around the fullness with her tongue, making certain Herbret watched. Slowly, so as not to draw attention to herself, she stroked Sabina’s long locks, bending over to whisper in her ear. “You deserve a man as virile as young Hayden. I don’t know what Mother is thinking, letting Herbret petition for your hand.”

  Sabina’s huge brown eyes fluttered up at Marissa, a look of cautious terror brimming in them. “She what?” A slight tremble started in her hands, working its way to the rest of her body.

  “Shhh, now. Don’t worry so. I’ll speak with Mother and sort everything out.”

  Gratitude, raw and unabashed, glowed on her face. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Marissa continued stroking Sabina’s silky hair, delighting in the closeness it afforded. “Don’t say another word. You’re like a sister to me.” From above her dark curls, Marissa met Herbret’s uneasy stare. Accepting defeat, he blinked and looked away, but not before Marissa saw unbridled hatred burning in his eyes.

  “Blood and ashes! Did you see that?” Tessa paced along the edge of the tent, her little hands balled into fists. “He missed the ball!”

  “It’s only a game, Tessa. There is no reason to get so worked up,” Lliandra chided.

  The players ran in a group, kicking the ball to each other. Marissa didn’t think any of it warranted the excitement Tessa showed. When the ball was kicked to Taryn, she gracefully ran a short distance, keeping the ball between her feet and then kicked it between two posts that had been erected at the far end of the lawn.

  The lords cheered and circled her, talking in exaggerated tones that reached those sitting in the shade. Whatever she’d done, the men thought it worthy of praise. Heaps of it, by the sound of their voices.

  The group gathered in the center of the lawn where someone dropped the ball. Several men converged on it, trying to get it away from the rest. One lucky man managed to capture the ball, and ran, less gracefully, several paces, before kicking it to another player.

  A crowd had gathered on the lawn by now. Soldiers and servants stood shoulder to shoulder, cheering and yelling taunts to the players. With each turn Taryn took, the spectators called out her name. Marissa watched the interplay between Taryn and her teammates with increasing interest. The court’s favor was fickle at best, but that afternoon, Taryn was the definite favorite.

  If it were anyone else, Marissa wouldn’t give her a second thought, but Taryn posed serious problems if she became too popular. Marissa sent a strand of her Mari toward Taryn. Instead of tangling around her ankles, Taryn leapt over the Mari as if it were nothing more than a stick. Bewildered, Marissa sent another, stronger thread toward the girl. Again, she dodged the Mari, snuffing it out with the heel of her boot.

  “See how she deftly handles the ball,” Tessa began. “I hear she is equally skilled with the sword. Today she taught the soldiers hand-to-hand combat.” There was a dreamy quality to Tessa’s voice that grated on Marissa’s nerves.

  “She is a treasure, to be sure,” Marissa offered, putting as much enthusiasm as she could into her tone. “Would you like to join them?”

  Tessa’s face lit up with eagerness. “I would indeed. Do you think I could?”

  “Tessa,” Lliandra began, using the timbre she reserved for special disappointment, “I don’t think it would be proper.”

  Tears filled Tessa’s eyes. “Yes, Mother.” She took her seat beside Eliahnna, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on her crossed arms.

  The ball dropped, the players raced after it. They ran, they kicked, they cheered. Marissa was bored of it all. She sent one last charge of Mari at Taryn. Her power wrapped around Taryn’s legs, taking her down with a satisfying thump.

  A collective gasp came from the crowd.

  As graceful as a carlix, Taryn rolled to her feet and brushed off her legs. When she jogged back to the group, Marissa noted a slight limp in her gait and smiled to herself. She cast a lazy glance over the crowd before turning back to those seated in the tent. Her gaze fell upon Herbret, who watched her with troublesome intensity. He gave a small salute and pivoted, leaving her to stare at his ample backside as he left the tent.

  A short while later, the game ended with congratulatory remarks and cheers for Taryn. The geniality lasted well into the evening, giving the second masque an air of excitement. The lords who had played with Taryn enjoyed their elevated status, with ladies lining up to dance with them. As for Taryn, she stayed close to Sabina much of the night, danced only with Hayden or Rhoane, and left well before midnight bells.

  At second bell, Marissa excused herself from the party, wanting nothing more than to return to her rooms and curl up in the blankets, sleeping until tea the next day, but she’d promised Zakael she’d meet him at the inn. For half a heartbeat, she debated whether she should beg off. The pull of his Dark Shanti was too strong, though, and she headed toward the gardens, avoiding as many courtiers and servants as she could.

  The party would continue for several more bells until the morning light, even into the next day if Hayden wished it. Three masques over three nights, each themed and outlasting the previous party. Marissa scoffed. It was a ridiculous display of Anje’s wealth, but if the stupid man wanted to waste all that gold on his only son, who was she to argue?

  “Your Highness, may I speak with you a moment?” Herbret’s clammy hand wrapped around her wrist with a familiarity she resented.

  “Not now, Herbret.” She withdrew her arm from him, ignoring the need to wipe it on her gown.

  “Please.”

  Marissa stopped short. Herbret did not beg. Ever. “What is it?” She kept her tone neutral, but inside, she thrilled at the neediness she saw in his face.

  “You have to help me gain your mother’s support for my petition.”

  “I don’t have to do anything, especially not for someone whose loyalty has waned of late.”

  His beady eyes, set too close together and making her think, not for the first time, he had descended from trolls, shifted from side to side with nervous energy. “You’re right. I apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me. Love, perhaps. This union with the princess—I need it.”

  “Why, Herbret? Why her? She has no ShantiMari, and you don’t need her coin. What does she offer you?”

  His eyes darted to the left, then right, and then to her breasts, where his gaze lingered. “She has ties to the southern shipping routes. I need those merchants in my favor. There have been increasing pirate attacks in the Southern Seas that have nearly crippled my fleet.”

  Plausible, but not the whole story. Marissa took a deep breath, lifting her breasts to just below his nose. “Losing your ships would be tragic. I’ll speak with Mother. But Herbret…” She waited until he pulled his gaze to her face. “I need to know you will never defy me. If we’re to have a partnership, we must trust one another.” She ran a finger down his sweaty cheek, pausing to rake a nail over his lower lip. “We make such a good team, you and I.” She ran her fingers through his hair and Herbre
t shivered into her touch, his body vibrating with suppressed pleasure. “There’s something I need from you, but I can’t tell you now. Come to my rooms tomorrow, and we’ll chat.”

  His reply was a low moan punctuated with an elongated, “Yessss.”

  “Your Highness.” A youthful voice sounded just behind her, and Marissa turned to see one of the duke’s servants bowing low.

  “Yes?”

  “Your mother would like a word. If you’ll come with me.”

  Marissa yanked a few strands of Herbret’s hair and patted his cheek. “Be a good boy. All will be well.”

  She followed the servant in silent fury. If she hadn’t stopped to deal with that twit Herbret, she’d be in Zakael’s bed this moment. Not on her way to see the empress.

  Lliandra beckoned her forward when a maid announced her arrival. Her mother wore one of her more demure sleeping gowns, which covered little of the woman’s voluptuous curves. The years had been good to her mother, Marissa admitted grudgingly. Still beautiful, with a body men craved, Lliandra ruled with as much strength and passion as she put into her lovers. To Lliandra, mating was nothing but an extension of her duties as an empress.

  “Leave us,” Lliandra commanded her maids. When they’d gone, she handed Marissa an ornate silver brush and settled into her chair.

  Marissa dutifully began combing her mother’s luxurious tresses, being careful not to snag the bristles.

  “I called you here to discuss your plans with Zakael. Is he still in Paderau?”

  Marissa kept the brush moving, not wanting to give Lliandra reason to doubt her. “Of course not. He left after the debacle last night. I don’t know what possessed him to come here.”

  “Good. We don’t need any further distractions. Taryn has gained too much favor. It would be impossible to eliminate her now without questions, therefore, I want you to ingratiate yourself with the girl. As yet, she knows nothing, and I’d like to keep it that way. At least until Talaith.”