Consort Page 4

  “Are you saying I don’t have a choice? King Indric wants me in his bed so I should just make the most of it?”

  “Not at all.” She reached over and rubbed Cinarra’s back, the motion almost maternal. “First of all, I would never allow you to be bullied like that. If his courting becomes too intense, you’re always welcome on Ontariese.”

  “I’m not going to run away like a frightened child. If his courting becomes too intense, I’ll tell him to back the hell off. I’m not afraid of Indric.” When Charlotte’s only response was a soft laugh, Cinarra decided to delve deeper. “I’ve lived on Bilarri for nine years, but I don’t know much about their mating rituals. What exactly did he mean when he told me he intended to court me?”

  “Make sure Indric clarifies his meaning before you allow him to begin, but courting is generally the process Bilarrians use to choose a mate, not a casual lover. Bilarrians mate for life and some of them live for thousands of cycles, so they must be absolutely certain they’ve found the right person before they form the bond. As I understand it, courting is done in stages. Each stage determines a couple’s compatibility in a different area of the relationship.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “Activities are planned to see if the couple have compatible personalities and interests.”

  “But we’ve known each other for nine years. We’re a little beyond the ‘getting to know you’ phase.”

  “The next step is an examination to ensure that the couple is physically compatible to produce offspring.” Before Cinarra could object to the concept, Charlotte added, “Finally they’ll explore each other physically to make sure they’re sexually compatible.”

  Sex with Indric. Cinarra stumbled over the thought. She wasn’t intimidated by the possibility. In fact, he’d filled her fantasies ever since she came to Bilarri, but it had been three years since she’d been with a man and even then her experiences had been…confusing.

  A physical examination, on the other hand, would bring the entire courtship screeching to a halt. “He doesn’t know about the Mystic.”

  “Are you kidding?” Charlotte looked as surprised as she sounded. “You’ve been friends for nine cycles and you never told him that this is not the body in which you were born?”

  Cinarra drew her legs toward her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. “It never felt right to tell him.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “It’s not a matter of trust. I’m…” She struggled with the words, afraid she’d sound pathetic no matter how she explained it. “If all he’s interested in is this body, then he doesn’t really want me.”

  “You have to stop thinking like that. ‘This body’ is part of you now. The Mystic’s life is over. She has no place in this reality any longer.”

  “Maybe not, but she’s left me with one hell of a complication, especially if Indric wants more than a casual affair.”

  “The Mystic had no living relatives. I’ve triple checked to make sure there were no loose ends. You, Drakkin and I are the only ones who know the truth.”

  “You don’t think I should tell him?” That wasn’t the answer she’d expected from her stalwart sister.

  “You’ll have to tell him before you subject yourself to any form of examination, but I don’t think you need to go there until you’re certain of your feelings for him. If you don’t love him, or don’t think love will develop between you, that’s all he needs to know. If you don’t intend to become his lover, there’s no reason to explain the rest.”

  Cinarra stared out over the valley as all the possibilities scrolled through her mind. She wanted him, had for about nine years. But she cared about him enough to worry that becoming involved with her would cause him nothing but pain and frustration.

  “Any sage advice on how I sort all this out? Did you feel a connection with Tal immediately or did it build over time?”

  “When I first saw Tal, I was terrified. I spent our first few days together trying to escape him.” Charlotte waited until Cinarra looked at her again before she went on. “You might have interacted with King Indric for the past nine cycles, but you didn’t meet the man until today. He was married when Drakkin brought you to Bilarri and, as I said, Bilarrians mate for life. It would have been dishonorable for Indric to entertain feelings for another woman as long as Talya was alive. Honor means everything to Bilarrians.”

  “But Talya died five cycles ago. If he honestly cares for me, why did he wait so long to express an interest?”

  “Indric became prince regent when his father’s health began to deteriorate. That was ten or eleven cycles ago. King Laif wanted Indric to adjust to the new responsibilities while he was still there to assist with the transition. About the time Indric felt comfortable running the region, Talya died. Bilarrian custom requires a full cycle of mourning,” Charlotte reminded her. “And by the time he came out of mourning for Talya, the Senatern uprising had begun.”

  Cinarra nodded. “And shortly after the uprising ended his father died, so the timer started all over again.” She’d never thought about the events as obstacles until Indric pointed out that nothing remained between them. “This is the first time since I’ve known him that he’s been free to express his feelings. It’s just hard to believe he was pining away for me all that time.”

  “Was his marriage happy? Did you ever meet Talya?”

  “Of course not. Bilarrian society might be tolerant of mistresses, but it would still be scandalous if Indric’s supposed mistress were ever in the same room with his wife.”

  “I attended many of the same events as Talya, but I never exchanged more than a greeting with her. She seemed rather haughty. I think she felt Ontarians were beneath her.”

  “A sentiment many on Bilarri share.” Charlotte was doing her best to be helpful, but there were no easy answers to the questions buzzing through Cinarra’s mind. “Which means Indric will never be able to offer me more than his affection. If I remain within my persona, I’m a Bilarrian widow of no account. If I allow people to know the truth, I’m Ontarian. I don’t know which is worse.”

  “There is another option.”

  Cinarra shook her head. “Not really. Even if I tell Indric the truth about the Mystic’s origin, there is no way we can allow what we know to become public knowledge.” She looked at Charlotte again and sighed. “No matter what I do, I don’t see how anyone would ever consider me a suitable mate for a Bilarrian king. And I’m not sure I want to be his mistress.”

  “Talya was his third ‘suitable’ wife. I suspect he wants something different this time around.”

  Cinarra’s laugh sounded a bit sad. “Well, this will definitely be different.”

  Charlotte crossed her legs in front of her and absently picked at the grass. “Half the sector thinks you’re lovers already. Why has that never bothered you before?”

  “What they think of me is irrelevant. My only concern is Betaul. If it were not for him, I would have died in that bleak nothingness.” She had no idea how long her being had drifted in the incorporeal dimension, but Betaul had been kidnapped and the search for him had led her loved ones to her. “I owe him my life. His happiness is all that matters.”

  “Your selflessness is commendable, but I’m not sure it’s honest.”

  Shocked by the criticism, Cinarra stressed, “I mean every word.”

  “It’s not your sincerity I’m challenging, it’s your motivation.” Charlotte was the only one in Cinarra’s acquaintance who felt comfortable enough to be brutally honest. Everyone else was frustratingly careful not to upset her.

  That was why she always turned to Charlotte in times of trouble. Charlotte loved her enough to tell her what she needed to hear, not what she wanted to hear. “Meaning?”

  “I think you use Seth as a barrier—”

  “Betaul. Seth died nine years ago.” As had Krystabel dar Aune. Even in her mind Cinarra no longer used her birth name. She became Cinarra when she entered the Mystic’s body and
Cinarra she would stay, at least for now.

  Charlotte shook her head, undaunted by the interruption. “You use Betaul to insulate yourself from reality. I think you’re afraid of being hurt again, so you don’t allow yourself to feel anything.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I feel all sorts of things.”

  “I’m not talking about maternal affection or familial loyalties. Those come naturally to you. I’m talking about the emotions a woman feels for a man, passion, infatuation or just plain lust. How many lovers have you had in the past nine cycles?”

  Cinarra tensed. This wasn’t how she’d imagined their conversation going. She’d wanted Charlotte to help her unravel her thoughts, not tie them in tighter knots. “That has nothing to do with whether or not I should consider Indric’s proposal.”

  “It has everything to do with whether or not you can return his affection. Indric is a king. Every facet of his life is under continual scrutiny. As you pointed out, there aren’t political benefits to this joining. So he must have deep feelings for you or he wouldn’t have set this in motion. Even if he only wants you as his mistress, he will be criticized for his choice.” When Cinarra remained quiet, Charlotte persisted, “I know you slept with Kevin and I know his decision to accept the promotion hurt you terribly. But that was eight cycles ago. Has there been anyone else?”

  “Yes.”

  The one-word answer made Charlotte laugh. “This is going to be a very long conversation if you keep being so cagy.”

  They risked discovery every time they communicated, so their conversations tended to be about vitally important subjects, quick and to the point. Unfortunately this situation was convoluted and intensely personal. “There have been two others, but I was more careful not to become attached. As you said, I was crushed when Kevin chose his career over loving me.”

  “He never really loved you or he wouldn’t have been able to make such a choice. Were the other two part of your safety contingent as well?”

  “I don’t interact with anyone else.” Cinarra fidgeted in the grass. Her personal life had always been private. She never talked about it with anyone, even her sister.

  “Why are you so reluctant to talk about your lovers? I’m your sister. We’re supposed to share everything.”

  The comments so closely mirrored Cinarra’s thoughts that she narrowed her gaze on Charlotte’s face. “Don’t scan me. You know I can’t stand being probed.”

  Hurt sparked in Charlotte’s eyes then gradually her features smoothed. “I wasn’t scanning you. I understand you well enough to read your expressions. I would never betray your trust like that.”

  “I’m sorry.” She heaved a sigh and rubbed her eyes. Charlotte was wonderful, compassionate and supportive. The accusation had been unfair. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just off balance right now. I don’t know how I should react to Indric’s bizarre announcement. I didn’t realize he had feelings for me and now I’m not sure if he wants me as his mistress or…” She shook her head, dismissing the fantastical possibility that he’d meant exactly what he’d said before it took root in her mind. “He might have used the wrong word, but I’m sure that’s all he meant. He’s physically attracted to this body and he wants to have an affair.”

  Charlotte sighed, clearly frustrated by the conclusion. “He’s attracted to the Mystic’s body? Is it really so hard to believe that he could find anything in you to love?”

  The sadness in Charlotte’s eyes made Cinarra look away. If anyone saw the fractured, devastated soul that animated this borrowed body, they would be repulsed and terrified, or worse they’d find her pitiful. That’s why she fought so hard to keep people out of her mind. She projected images and received transmission, but never allowed anyone beyond her mental shields.

  “I don’t know what he wants,” she whispered, suddenly wishing she’d never instigated this conversation. Charlotte’s perceptive nature had taken them far too near the painful truth. Cinarra was no longer worthy of love. “I’ll find out before it goes any further.”

  “I guess the best advice I can offer is to be honest with Indric—and with yourself. If you’re not attracted to him, don’t let him pressure you. In the end, that will make you both miserable.”

  “It’s hard not to feel pressured when my entire existence is literally dependent upon his generosity.”

  “That’s ridiculous. First of all, Indric is honorable. He would never use your circumstances to pressure you to sleep with him. And if anything he says or does makes you feel that way, you pack up Betaul and come home.”

  Home. The word echoed through Cinarra’s mind as she hugged Charlotte goodbye and released the visualization. She’d never really had a home. She’d been so young when Doctor Hydran barged into her life that she could remember very little before her captivity. Life at the Center had been anything but hospitable. And even here, on Bilarri, she was an outsider, a fugitive, protected and provided for, but never really welcomed.

  She sighed and pushed away the depressing thoughts. She had volunteered to be Betaul’s guardian, and nurturing him had given her life purpose. She refused to regret the sacrifices she’d made. If her personal happiness had suffered because of her priorities, it was a fair exchange for her freedom.

  The conversation hadn’t been as helpful as she’d hoped, but one thing was clear. She was tired of hiding, tired of suppressing her abilities and concealing her true identity. Betaul was growing stronger every day. He was only ten and already he could control energy well enough to heal. He would benefit from multiple mentors and new challenges. The time had come for her to broaden his horizons and perhaps take some time off for herself.

  Which brought her back to Indric. She swung her legs onto the bed and curled up on her side, allowing his image to fill her mind. His declaration had been unexpected and exciting, nearly as exciting as their passionate kiss. It had been years since she’d felt so alive—or so confused. She still wasn’t sure where all this was leading, but she was about to be courted by a king.

  Chapter Three

  Nasrin, Queen of the Fire Islands, yanked open the massive bedroom door with a strength borne of fury. She slammed the portal closed and planted her fists on her hips, waiting for the trio on the bed to react. Their gasps and moans were so loud, and their pleasure so consuming, that no one noticed her entrance.

  Unbelievable!

  Eagin was sprawled on his back with a blonde straddling his hips and a redhead kneeling over his face. Typical. He could never decide what he wanted, so he generally tried to have it all. With short, staccato thrusts, he filled the blonde with his cock while his tongue pleasured the redhead. The women faced each other, their hands busy caressing while they kissed deeply and rocked back and forth.

  On any other day, Nasrin might have been entertained by the sight. She had given Eagin permission to enjoy any of the servants as long as they were willing, and these two were obviously willing.

  The blonde gasped and arched her back, moving her hips with a sudden burst of speed. The redhead bent to the blonde’s small breasts and sucked hard on her tight red nipples. Eagin dug his heels into the bed and bucked into the blonde. His muffled groans made it obvious he was about to come.

  Unwilling to let the scene play out, Nasrin summoned Fire’s sacred energy. She gathered it around her and drew it toward her, absorbing it through her skin until it vibrated deep inside her body. Her hair whipped out and crackled, the ends giving off sparks. Her eyes burned. She made a tight fist, constricting the flame into a compact burst as she flung it at the blonde’s bobbing ass.

  The woman cried out, clearly startled out of her sexual hedonism. “Your Majesty,” she cried, scrambling off Eagin and sinking to her knees on the far side of the bed.

  Another flame sailed across the room and landed between the redhead’s breasts. She screamed and followed the blonde’s example, deserting Eagin as she ducked beside the bed.

  Eagin pushed to his elbows and glared at Nasrin. “What is wrong with
you?”

  “Get out.” She shouted at the women before focusing her wrath on its source.

  Not bothering to gather their scattered cloths, the women fled.

  “They were willing,” Eagin protested, rubbing his still hard cock.

  “Where were you this afternoon?” The door banged shut, but Nasrin kept her gaze on Eagin.

  “I’ve been here all day.” The claim might have been convincing if his eyes hadn’t shifted away. He swallowed hard yet made no move to cover himself. “Why do you ask?”

  “You know damn good and well why I’m asking. You’re too big of a coward to get your hands dirty, so which of the boys was your henchman ordered to kill?”

  “Boys?” His confusion appeared genuine now. “What are you talking about? Indric’s whore only has one whelp.”

  “Yes, but Prince Dravon is fostering with your brother, or hadn’t you heard? Apparently, the young prince was bored, so Indric arranged a play date with his favorite bastard.”

  Dread made the rings in Eagin’s eyes look more brown than bronze. “Was the prince harmed? I wasn’t trying to start a war with Hautell.”

  The insinuation snapped her control. He wasn’t denying that he’d intentionally set out to harm a child. She flung herself onto the bed and straddled Eagin’s body, slapping him hard with one hand and then swinging at him with the other. “You useless fool! I do not make war on children!”

  He caught her wrists, preventing the second blow from connecting with his face. “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish.” With shocking strength and dexterity, he pushed her up then flipped her over onto her back. In an instant their positions reversed. She sprawled on her back, arms pinned to the bed and he knelt between her thighs. His body preventing her from closing her legs and lust ignited in his eyes. “The order was to frighten, not kill.”

  “Did you know Indric would be there?” She tugged against his hands, but he easily restrained her.

  “Of course.” A cruel smile parted Eagin’s lips. “That was the point. He needs to know how easily I can get to him if I choose to reclaim what’s mine.” He tossed back his gold-streaked hair, gaze narrowed and bright.