The Stones of Resurrection Read online

  Lliandra’s eyes, deep blue pools of glass that shone whether there was light in the room or not, met Marissa’s gaze in the mirror. “We can’t expose her until we’re in the capital city. Valterys knows this, which is why, I believe, he sent Zakael. To force our hand. Taryn must be accepted at court.”

  “She’s never used power. Are you sure she is the one?”

  Lliandra winced as the brush caught a snarl, and Marissa tensed, waiting for the expected lash. “I am sure. ShantiMari or not, she is the Eirielle. Tomorrow is the last masque. We’ll return to Talaith a few days later and then I’ll publicly declare her in front of the court.”

  Marissa’s mind spun with the implications. “You can’t possibly arrange everything while you’re here. Why don’t I return to Talaith now? That way, I can have the ceremony in place for when you return.” A fortnight alone with Zakael at the Crystal Palace—it was almost too good to be true. “That would give you nearly two weeks to get close to her, study her, learn her weaknesses.”

  Lliandra tapped a finger on the vanity, her nail making a tick sound with each tap. “Yes, that might be for the best. You would do that for me? I know how you hate planning these things.”

  Marissa bent and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I would do anything for you.”

  “I know you would, my love.” She pointed to her head, and Marissa resumed her brushing. “Have you decided on a husband for Sabina?”

  “I think the Danurian would be to our best advantage,” Marissa said with genuine enthusiasm. She wanted the handsome man for herself, and the quickest way to get him to Talaith was a betrothal to Sabina.

  “Lord Aomori?” Again, the tick, tick, tick of her nail on wood. “I thought perhaps he would make a good match for Eliahnna. She’s coming of age in a few seasons, and we need a strong ally in the West.”

  “We don’t have the time to wait for her to mature. We need strength in the West now.”

  “Lord Herbret has petitioned for Sabina’s hand,” Lliandra said without much enthusiasm.

  Marissa kept her face blank. “Has he? What does he hope to accomplish?”

  Lliandra waved, as if swatting an irritating bug. “I’m not sure, but keep an eye on him. He’s planning something, and I need to know what.” Lliandra reached back and took Marissa’s hand in her own. “They found Liago’s body, by the way.”

  Marissa frowned. The name meant nothing to her. “Who?”

  “My lover. By the marks of ShantiMari on his throat, it appears he was strangled.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother. I know you enjoyed his company. Do they know who killed him?”

  Lliandra’s eyes bore into hers. Her mother knew. Knew she’d been the one to murder her lover, but Lliandra had no proof. “No.”

  Marissa wound her arms around Lliandra and gave a comforting squeeze. “Perhaps you’ll find a new concubine here. There is a delicious looking Ullan who’s been shadowing you. I hear they are wicked healers. He could help mend your broken heart.”

  Ullans were notorious for their alternative ways, often employing pleasures of the flesh in their healing rituals.

  “Perhaps I will.” Lliandra stood to embrace her daughter. Her soft lips covered Marissa’s. Her tongue sought the warm comfort of her mouth.

  Marissa returned the kiss, moaning against her mother as Lliandra’s fingertips pinched between her legs, finding that little button of pleasure and rubbing hard. Her body jerked in response, releasing the pent-up energy she’d been saving for Zakael. Wetness pooled between her legs. Her body trembled.

  Lliandra pulled back slightly, a triumphant smile lighting her face. The hard slap across Marissa’s cheek stunned the younger woman. Heat flamed from her neck to her temple, but Marissa kept herself steady as best she could.

  “Liago was dispensable, yes, but when you killed him, you betrayed me. I will not suffer your vanity again.” Lliandra smoothed Marissa’s hair, cooing the words she spoke. “Be careful with your heart, my love. Zakael won’t be so easily disposed of, or forgotten. Now go.”

  Shaken from her mother’s words, and her touch, Marissa left the empress’s rooms, mentally listing what needed to be done. First was to put that Ullan in Lliandra’s bed. Marissa needed her mother distracted, and a good lover always did the trick. Next was to speak with Sabina. There had to be a reason Herbret was willing to risk his favor with her for a worthless girl.

  Chapter Twenty

  Taryn stood outside the duke’s rooms, debating whether to knock or leave before she made a fool of herself. The door swung open, and Oliver, Hayden’s valet, gasped at seeing her, then ushered her inside.

  “I was about to go looking for you. Come in,” he said, a hand to his heart.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She placed a hand on his arm, balancing the cake with the other.

  “That’s all right, dear. I’m getting on in seasons, is all.”

  They walked down a long hallway to the duke’s private dining room where Sabina and the younger princesses were already seated. Duke Anje sat at the head of the table, with Rhoane to his right and Baehlon his left. Faelara chatted with the giant knight and looked up when Taryn entered.

  “There you are. We were beginning to worry.” Hayden greeted her.

  Taryn held out the small cake she’d made. “This is for you. Carga said it’s your favorite.”

  Hayden took the cake from her, admiring the decorative frosting she’d painstakingly applied. “Apple spice?”

  “Yep. I made it myself.”

  “You can cook?” Faelara asked, surprised.

  “Technically, this is baking. But yes, I can cook. Before I ran around with you lot, I used to cook for Brandt all the time. He could barely boil water.” She snort-laughed. Then laughed at her snort.

  “I will remember that for the next time we travel,” Faelara promised.

  Taryn sat down beside Sabina and held up her glass for some wine. “As long as someone else gets to peel potatoes. But first, a toast to the birthday boy.”

  They ate a light meal and laughed at the duke’s stories about Hayden’s childhood—everyone except Hayden. His mischievousness wasn’t as humorous to him as it was to everyone else. Myrddin stopped by as the meal concluded to give Hayden a leather-bound book of ancient myths and legends. When the rest of the gifts were given and well wishes for a prosperous season were made, they drank cups of spiced grhom.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have anything else to give,” Taryn said with a sheepish grin. “Not that I’d know what to get a marquis anyway.”

  “This,” Hayden said, holding a forkful of cake, “is the best present I’ve ever received. And it’s delicious.” He plopped a piece in his mouth and chewed with exaggerated delight.

  “There is one other thing Taryn can give you,” Anje said cryptically. “Fighting lessons.”

  Taryn stared at the duke, unsure if he was joking. “But you said no.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  Hayden whooped and caught Taryn up in a hug, spinning her around the room. When he set her down, he kissed her full on the lips. Silence clung to the air as Hayden stepped back, aware of his actions and their audience. He bowed first to Taryn and then to Sabina, muttering an apology. Then, to Taryn’s horror, Hayden bowed low to Rhoane. The Eleri prince waved him off with a shrug. Faelara broke the awkward moment, congratulating Hayden, and fussing over him to be careful in the training yard.

  Taryn moved away from the group, ostensibly to examine some portraits hung on the wall but more so she could clear her thoughts. Hayden’s kiss was nothing like Rhoane’s. There was no weakening of the knees and certainly no swooning. The kiss was nice but lacked spark. She touched her lips and recalled the strength of Rhoane’s lips on hers.

  “I have a surprise for you,” Sabina whispered, and Taryn jumped. She’d not heard the girl approach.

  “What is it?” Taryn said hesitantly, hoping her friend wasn’t angry with her for Hayden’s kiss.

  “Marissa has lef
t Paderau.” At Taryn’s look of shock, Sabina continued, “I’ve made a few inquiries, and I’m fairly certain her guest the other night is a visitor she’s had at the Crystal Palace.”

  “You’ve seen him?”

  Sabina shook her head. “They are too clever for that, but I’ve known she was sneaking a lover into the palace for a long time. My maid heard him arguing with the princess in the garden and recognized his voice. She wasn’t near enough to make out words, but she is certain it was him.”

  On impulse, she kissed Sabina’s cheek. “Thank you, my friend.”

  Sabina giggled. “No offense, but that’s not the kiss I had hoped for tonight.”

  Taryn squeezed her friend’s fingers. “Nor I.”

  At the third and final masque, guests dressed in either black or white with feathers and flowers attached to stylized masks. That night’s ball was themed a setante cuir, or hidden secret, the stark black and white meant to represent Light and Dark ShantiMari. As Taryn surveyed the room, and the ever more elaborate displays of jewels, she was glad she hadn’t grown up on Aelinae. A world where every lord or lady tried to outdo the other with a grotesque display of wealth. She shuddered at the thought.

  Taryn didn’t wear any jewels to the final dance, not even the exquisite sapphire and diamond necklace the duke had given her for her birthday. Her gown consisted of little more than a tight white corset and a flowing semi-sheer skirt split to her hip. She didn’t need to add jewelry to draw attention. She pulled her mask farther over her face to hide her blush and moved through the crowd, looking for her friends.

  The sound of her name made her pause.

  “Princess Marissa would never admit it publicly, but she knows that girl is an Offlander. The duke took pity on her because she’s an orphan,” Lady Celia said knowingly.

  “The princess says a lot of things,” a male voice replied. “Have you spoken to her?”

  “Once. She’s tiresome and ignorant. From what I hear, she’s just as powerless as that Summerlands slut.”

  Angry heat rose up Taryn’s neck, but she kept listening.

  “The princesses seem rather fond of her. Perhaps the crown princess was mistaken.”

  “Aomori, you are such an innocent. Those girls are nice to her because the empress commanded it.”

  Pain sliced through Taryn’s heart.

  “Once they leave for Talaith, they’ll forget all about that trash,” Celia added.

  “Your fangs are showing.”

  “I have claws just as sharp,” she purred to her friend. “Would you like to come to my rooms to discover them for yourself?” Her voice dropped in husky tones as she added, “No one needs to know. It will be our own setante cuir.”

  “As much as your offer tempts me, I’m afraid I must decline. I see your mother approaches. I will leave you two your privacy.” Aomori passed Taryn without noticing her.

  Taryn glanced around in time to see a majestic being, clad all in black, bearing down on Celia. She slipped away, only to be stopped by one of Lliandra’s courtiers.

  “Taryn,” he drawled, “it’s nice to see you out of those men’s breeches you so favor.”

  “Thank you, Lord Herbret.” She tried to move past, but he blocked the path. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m looking for my friends.” The corset was too tight, and her breath came in short gasps. She needed to escape the heat of the room.

  From the opening of his mask, his little black eyes wandered to her legs before settling on her chest. “Quite an improvement, yes.” A slug like tongue made its way around his lips before darting out and back in with alarming speed.

  A slow thrumming started within her, shallow at first, barely perceptible until it made its way to her ears, pulsing against her skull. The room grew warmer, and she tried to step around him again, wishing for nothing more than sweet, fresh air.

  A sweat-slicked hand wrapped around her arm, pinching her. Herbret’s acrid breath assaulted her nostrils as he hissed, “I don’t know where you came from, Offlander, but I’ve dealt with your kind before. If you think for a moment that any of these nobles will accept you and your tainted blood, you’re mistaken.” A crack of lightning flashed just outside the windows, startling the guests, but Herbret was too intent on her to notice. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to charm the duke, but your witchery won’t work on me.”

  “Is there a problem, Herbret?” Rhoane removed the man’s hand from her shaking arm, bending low to whisper in his ear, “Touch her again and it will be the last thing you do.”

  Herbret backed away, making apologies and claiming he was just trying to be friendly. Rhoane pressed his palm against the small of Taryn’s back and propelled her out to the garden.

  Dark storm clouds marred the peaceful summer night. Air, thick with unspent energy, stirred with an electrified current. The pounding in her ears was either her heartbeat or her pendant—she wasn’t sure, nor did she care. Rhoane’s Shanti spread across her skin, dulling the clamor, easing her rage. Even after her breathing settled, she couldn’t muffle the sound of Herbret’s taunts and Celia’s cruel words.

  “Thank you,” she said at last.

  “I am sorry for that, Taryn.”

  “I’ve dealt with worse.”

  They strolled through the garden in silence with Taryn stopping every so often to enjoy the fragrance from blooming roses. They reminded her of the pub’s small garden below the London flat she’d shared with Brandt. On the rare occasions they were home, Brandt would spend hours tending the flowers, coaxing them back to life knowing full well they would wither again once he and Taryn had to leave. She bit back a sob and crushed her nails into her palms until the homesickness passed.

  Gradually, she and Rhoane made their way to the orchard where they sat on a bench under sargot trees.

  “Tell me, what is pizza?” Rhoane asked at length.

  Taryn looked at him in surprise. “How do you know about that?”

  “It is in your thoughts often tonight.”

  “We agreed we weren’t going to read each other’s minds without permission,” Taryn said, an edge to her voice.

  The river lapped by in gentle waves, and Rhoane said, “I have not been entering your thoughts. You seem to be dwelling on this thing. It is difficult for me to avoid.”

  “It’s food from back home. Delicious and cheesy, and oh God, I so wish I had some right now. I could probably make it for you if Carga will let me use her kitchen again.”

  Rhoane took her hand in his and traced the lines of her runes. “Do you regret coming here?”

  She leaned against the bench, looking at him from the corner of her eye. “By ‘here’ do you mean Paderau or Aelinae?”

  “Either. Both. You know what I mean. Do you wish you had stayed where you were?”

  “There’s no point in looking back. This is my life now. I can either accept it or fight it. There’s more drama here than I’m used to, that’s for sure.” She plucked a leaf from a nearby tree and rolled it between two fingers. An acridness filled the air around them. She tossed the leaf aside and stared at the clear sky. Stars twinkled against a bed of deep purple.

  “Brandt and I had a simple life. We traveled all the time, which made it hard to make friends, but we had each other. That just sort of made everything okay. Still, I always had this sense that I didn’t fit in, like I was an observer in other people’s lives.” She glanced at him. “Does that make sense?”

  “And now? Do you feel you belong here, Taryn?”

  Celia’s words stung anew. “I want to, but it’s been difficult learning all the rules and customs. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing or where I belong.”

  He stroked her arm with his forefinger. “Do not try too hard to find an answer. In time, I am sure it will find you.”

  The thrill his touch brought was tempered by a wave of guilt. She gently took her hand from his. “I think I should be getting back.”

  “Have I said something to upset you?”

&nb
sp; “You’re betrothed, Rhoane. We shouldn’t be here.”

  He leaned back, exhaling and stretching his arms behind him. For several long moments, he stared ahead without speaking.

  Taryn shifted, impatient to be away from the pull of the water and romance of the night. “I saw what Hayden did today. In the duke’s room when he kissed me and then bowed to you as if apologizing. I won’t be your mistress, Rhoane. If that’s what everyone thinks, then they’re wrong.”

  He gave a curt laugh. “My mistress? Taryn, you have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Don’t pretend, Rhoane. I know I’m an Offlander. You’re just being nice to me because the empress commanded it.”

  He stood before her, his eyes a dark mystery. A spark of green ShantiMari flared away from him, and he took a deep breath. “Taryn, the empress did no such thing. You are not an Offlander.” His finger traced her jawline; his thumb pressed upon her lips.

  Taryn shivered against the night’s warmth. “Please don’t.” With all her will, she kept from pulling him close.

  “If that is your wish. I will escort you back to the ball.”

  They walked along the path in silence, Taryn not trusting herself to speak. Despite what he’d said, she was an Offlander and would never be his equal in status.

  When Taryn returned to her rooms, she waited until Lorilee and Mayla finished readying her for bed before checking the looking glass. Nothing had been disturbed. She asked it to show her Brandt, and his smiling face appeared in the ball. Wherever he was, it was peaceful. Unable to sleep, she sat in a chair by the window, staring at the shifting sky.

  Movement in the garden caught her attention, and she spied two lovers tangled in their ShantiMari. Streaks of ebony and gold whizzed around them. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist. She and Sabina were the only people she knew without power. Even Baehlon was able to perform simple tasks with his limited amount of ShantiMari.

  The lovers finished their tryst and ambled off, a soft orb drifting behind them. Taryn resented their love and their power. It wasn’t fair. But then, life never was. She blew out a deep breath, and the orb blinked out.