Duality (20 page)

Falak sputtered and began coughing. Sirona poked him in the ribs with her spoon. Hard.

Lorelei frowned at her eldest grandson. “I find this turn of conversation inappropriate for the dinner table.” The lights dimmed for a moment. “I suggest a change of topic.”

“Like the weather?” Falak teased.

Pari laughed the hardest of all.

***

The rest of the endless dinner passed uneventfully. Dara yearned to be away from Deane’s lustful gaze and Paulette’s nastiness. She should’ve eaten in her rooms. Loren’s homecoming shouldn’t have been wasted defending her.

Finally the dessert plates were removed and Cedric stood. “I am sure thou art much wearied by thy long journey,” he said to Dara. “I believe we shalt call it an evening. There wilt be time enough to exchange tales on the morrow.”

“Thank you, Sire.” Dara stood and turned to Sirona. “I look forward to meeting Verdeen. Thank you.”

Loren also rose. “If you would excuse us.”

Dara preceded him out of the dining room. As soon as the door shut behind them, she sagged against the wall. “What’s a
sensuri
?”

“Exactly what you suspect.” He placed his hands on her trembling shoulders. “I apologize. Paulette has ever been so.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “And Deane is a boor.”

She leaned against him, taking comfort from his warmth, his strength. “Such a
lovely
couple.”

“I suggest a walk in the gardens.” Loren dropped a quick kiss on the back of her neck. “I need some fresh air and moonlight to clear my head.”

She wished his lips had lingered just a moment more. Frowning at her wayward thoughts, she tried to distract herself. “Good idea not to have been armed.”

He chuckled. “They do not allow weapons in ministry meetings for much the same reason.” He stepped around her and offered an arm. “Shall we?”

They walked in silence through a series of corridors and rooms until Loren led her through a small unassuming door into paradise. Dara stared at the profusion of night-blooming flowers and colorful mage-lit fountains. She couldn’t have dreamt up a more romantic setting for lovers. “Why would anyone plant a garden just seen at night?”

“Being king means many sleepless nights. Granna wanted a place of peace and perspective. Would you sit or walk?”

The scent of the flowers was almost cloying, and Dara noticed their soporific effect. “Walk,” she answered, shaking off the creeping lethargy. “What are these flowers? I won’t be drugged.”

“Be at ease. They have a relaxing effect but shall not affect your mind nor bring you to harm. Trust me.”

Dara did. Now when had that started? She sat down on a bench and willed herself to relax. Willed the world away. Peace. Sanctuary. Moonlight poured over them. Loren’s silvery hair shimmered pale blue from the nearest lit fountain. She closed her eyes, letting the sound of the fountains and the scents of the flowers wash over her. Loren sat aside her and pulled her closer. She relaxed against the warmth of his body, hearing his heart beat beneath her ear. His clean masculine scent wove through the lesser scents of distant flowers. His was a familiar presence—she felt complete when he was with her, safe and comforted within his arms.

Such strong arms. Her savior, her anchor.

She snuggled closer, feeling oddly boneless. She loved his scent. She’d never had time to appreciate it afore. Now, in the magical stillness of the garden, it did odd things to her stomach, made her tingle in secret places. She almost felt the brush of his lips on the side of her neck, and quivered with the memory. What was it about him that made him so different from other men? Always afore men had left her indifferent. But not Loren. One touch, one kiss and she yearned to rub against him like a kitten. She wished this moment could go on forever. Purring, she nuzzled his neck.

“Dara?” Her name on his lips was the merest whisper.

She dragged open her eyes to look at him. His green eyes gleamed teal, dark with a heat that made her quiver with unspoken yearning. Loren slid a hand up her arm to curl his fingers behind her neck, caressing her skin with barely there tenderness. She leaned in closer, unable to stop herself. When he dipped his head to brush her lips with his, she met him more than halfway.

The kiss started out gentle, coaxing, as Loren worshipped her lips. But heat rose quickly, and Dara found herself growing needy, impatient. With a whimper, she opened her mouth under his, stroking her tongue across his lower lip. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him closer.

Loren’s kiss turned hot, aggressive. His arms tightened around her as his tongue stroked hers. Dara shook with need, and tension coiled deep within her. His lips moved to her ear, raining a trail of fire down the side of her neck. Eagerly, she tilted her head to the side. His fingers brushed the side of her breast, and she gasped as her nipple pebbled against her gown. Her body awakened with a need all its own. “Loren!”

She barely recognized the breathy whisper as her own voice. Loren shuddered, cupping her breast in his hand. Dara choked as his thumb circled her nipple, sending darts of almost painful pleasure deep into her. His touch made her reel, and she clutched his shoulders, digging her nails into the plush velvet of his shirt. A twinge of unease, uncertainty, shot through the haze of new passion. Her body protested, reveling in the shivers aroused by his touch.

Loren stopped, pulled back, forcing her to look at him. His face was flushed with passion, and his eyes glittered. “Easy,” he soothed, rubbing a hand up and down her back as if she were a nervous horse. “Do not be afraid. I know this is new for you. If you would stop, I shall.”

She
didn’t
want to, that was the problem. A part of her was all for dragging him off to somewhere more private—a part of herself she’d not known existed. Who was this creature of passion and fire that consumed every rational thought in a blaze of heat and need? She didn’t recognize herself—and that scared her.

Loren took a deep breath. “I feel your fear. What if we just walk about for a bit?” He rose, stiffly, and pulled her to her feet.

Dara bit her lip and fidgeted. She looked everywhere but at him.

“Hey.” He placed a hand under her chin and looked into her eyes. “You are beautiful, Dara. It is easy to get carried away under the moonlight, but I would never force you, or hurt you. Always you can trust me.”

She knew that, but had a sinking feeling it was herself she couldn’t trust. Rather than dwell on her own unexpected weakness, she changed the subject. “The party’s tomorrow night?”

“Aye. Everyone shall spend most of tomorrow preparing. Sirona and Verdeen shall take you to the spas. You may spend hours relaxing and being pampered. You have earned it after everything we have been through and still need to do.”

She wasn’t used to such luxury, or idleness. “I feel guilty leaving even a day unspent.”

“This is not a situation where we can just round up an army and charge off half-ready. Banishing a demon takes many people and very specific rites. The people we need to work with are going to be at the party. I shall introduce you.”

Dara took a deep breath, savoring a dozen unfamiliar flower scents. Moonlight and magelight created dappled shadow patterns on the cobbled walks. A light breeze cooled her still-heated skin as it rustled through trees which retained green leaves. How different this glorious place was from her own land. Was there no struggle? “It’s never fall here?”

“In Poshnari-Unai, nay. In the surrounding countryside we have planting and harvest seasons. In the Shadowlands on the edges of our realm there is a brutal winter coming, but we have power enough to keep those storms at bay. It is cool and we have rain and mists.”

What a waste, planting for the sake of beauty. Her own small gardens were given over to vegetables and healing herbs. But then she reconsidered. Anything that relaxed the mind and spirit would be welcome. She recalled Hengist’s frown lines and headaches. He needed a garden like this. When they returned, she vowed to see he got one.

If they returned. “I think I’m ready for bed.”

“Absolutely,” he acceded. “Sleep. Tomorrow shall be brighter. Things always appear darker to the tired mind.”

If only ’twere so easy. Dark was still dark.

***

After leaving Dara at her room, Loren came up to the library, his sanctuary. Voices stopped him afore his hand touched the door handle. The somberness of Cedric’s voice gave him pause. Hearing Dara’s name, his knees went weak and he slumped against the wall.

Pari chuckled. “The spirited mares throw the best foals.”

“They also throw the best riders.” Cedric sighed. “Thou felt the same things I did; not a male in the room wast unaffected by the girl. Pride, beauty, unbreakable spirit, overwhelming and undisciplined passions—we couldst almost envy the lad. The girl be dangerous. She bringeth passion to reason, conflict to peace, chaos to order. Duality be in her blood, her soul, her very nature.”

“Mystria left behind a powerful legacy indeed. We owe it to the old harridan to protect Dara—even from herself and her own divided nature.”

“The world shalt not welcome such as she. I worry if Loren hast strength enough to stand for her. To defend her.”

“He hast strength enough. He loves her.”

Love
? Loren’s stomach churned.

“Dara is not one of us,” Cedric stated. “She knows naught of our traditions, our ways. Loren hast wandered quite long enough. He shouldst wed and begin a family.”

“With Alani?” Skepticism colored Pari’s voice.

“It be a good match. Dara shalt disrupt everything. She is mortal, raised a common peasant girl.”

“She is
not
a common peasant girl. Dost thou not feel the Hand in all this? They were meant to meet.”

Cedric’s voice was glum. “What doth I tell Raun?”

“The truth. It is a life-bond. Wouldst thou defy the Hand itself? Alani wouldst be a wife in name only, and Dara wouldst never accept the position of
sensuri
.”

“She and Loren shalt destroy each other.”

“Nonsense. He canst use a bit of stirring up.” Pari paused. “Thou knows why he left.”

“Markale.” Cedric was silent for a long time. “It is not fair. All know thou favor Loren, some say for the crown itself.”

Horror struck Loren. Him? King? He would rather be boiled in oil.

“I understand him, which be more than thou canst claim,” Pari stated. “If Deane canst but conquer his unreasoning jealousy of his brother, wisdom shalt come with time. Loren shalt be the right hand of the king and champion of Her will and just causes. We canst afford for him to follow his heart.” Pari paused. “One thing, a Kahn Androcles is not boring, or hast thou forgotten already? Unpredictable, exasperating, infuriating, aye. Insolent, insulting—”

Cedric snorted.

“—temperamental, for certain,” Pari continued. “But boring? Never. Asides, it is not the fighting—”

“—it is the making up. I miss Ayala.” A long pause. Loren closed his eyes at his father’s grief. “Thou hast given me much to think on, as usual.” Cloth rustled as Cedric rose. “I bid thee good night, Father.” A door opened and closed.

“Thou canst enter now, lad,” Pari called.

Loren was beyond embarrassed. “I did not intend to…”

“Nonsense, lad. Thou wert always a nosy little thing. So? Art thou after thy brother’s throne?”

“Nay.” How to dispel that awful bit of gossip?

“Of course not. Thy father knows this as well. Thou art
not
responsible for Deane’s erroneous beliefs about Markale’s death.”

Loren kept silent as he sat down against the wall and drew his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, like he did when he was little, sitting at his granther’s feet.

Pari chuckled. “So. Set out to catch a fox and thou bound a dragon.”

“Granther, that was not kind.” Loren frowned. “Dara has a temper, but that is no reason to call her names.”

“Nonsense, lad. I meant it quite literally.” Pari’s blue eyes twinkled. “
Dara
Kahn Androcles shena
Sheena
Kahn Androcles shena
Lena
Kahn Androcles shena
Ilya
Kahn Androcles shena
Rala
Kahn Androcles shena
Vana
Kahn Androcles shena
Mystria
Kahn Androcles. Dragon queen to dragon queen for seven generations back to the great shapeshifter herself.” Pari laughed outright at Loren’s dumbfounded expression. “She wast given dragon blood in prison by a servant of the Lady. It awakened her own.”

“Dara is draconian? I bound a dragon?” Loren’s voice rose from strangled cat to near-shout. “No queen would live so.”

“Sheena wast a bit of a rebel and strayed into a mortal love affair. Dara is not a queen yet. She is but half dragon. Her father, whoever he be, is mortal and his human blood prevents her shape-shifting. But it is all still there, the potential in her blood. I couldst tell soon as she entered the room.” Pari’s eyes grew distant with memory. “That hair, those eyes, that sensual lure—imagine a full-blooded dragon queen.” He slanted a look at his grandson. “Thou knows Dara’s effect on thy senses. Imagine it doubled.”