Fire Pearl (Beyond Ontariese 5) (20 page)

She did her best not to grin, but the corners
of her lips twitched. “What will happen to him now?”

“That’s up to us. Indric knows where he is if
we chose to seek revenge for his part in your captivity.”

“I didn’t even realize I was a captive.” She
shook her head. There had been a time when she wished Faujer dead.
Now she was just glad he was out of her life forever. “Does he pose
a danger to anyone else?”

“No. According to Indric’s spy Faujer is
almost childlike.”

“Then it’s over.” She turned back around and
stared out across the valley. “Noll is dead and the Faujer I knew
no longer exists.”

“A wise choice.” He slipped his hand into
hers, interlacing their fingers.

They lingered on the hillside, absorbing the
beauty and tranquility. With its wide gallery and majestic pillars,
the Conservatory had offered refuge and instruction to Mystics for
centuries. Snow-capped mountains rose in the distance and tall,
leafy trees provided a sense of seclusion. A narrow brook curved
through the clearing, separating the main complex from scattered
outbuildings.

“It’s lovely,” Aria whispered, unable to
explain the emotions welling within her.

“No matter how many Head Masters come and go,
Vee’s spirit will always resonate here.”

Vee had poured his heart and soul into this
place. He’d been undaunted even in death. Strength and integrity
surrounded her, soothed her, an echo of her father’s indelible
presence. She embraced the knowledge that he was at peace, finally
reunited with E’Lanna.

“Ready?”

She nodded. Tal was waiting for them and she
was anxious to officially leave the past behind. She glanced at
Drakkin and her heart filled with tenderness. “With you by my side,
I’m ready for anything.”

He pivoted to face her and she slipped her
arms around his neck. “After eighteen centuries, I thought nothing
could surprise me, but you fill my life with wonder. Vee entrusted
you to me and I will never disappoint him. You are so precious to
me.”

“As you know, he could see the future.” She
felt the gentle nudge of his being and opened her mind. “The last
thing he said to me was that I could rest assured knowing I would
find the happiness stolen from him in life.”

“Your father was a very wise man.” His
fingers caressed her cheek then traced her lips. “Each time we make
love, your power grows,” he whispered with a mischievous smile. “It
makes you stronger, more able to protect yourself.”

She laughed. “You want to make love for
my—safety?”

“Well, that’s not the
only
reason.”

“Isn’t Tal waiting for us?”

“I haven’t announced our arrival yet.” He
pressed her body against his, burying his fingers in her unbound
hair. “We’ve had little time to ourselves these past few days. No
one will begrudge us a few minutes alone.”

“This better take more than a few minutes
or—” She laughed as he swept her off her feet and laid her down in
the fragrant grass. “What if someone sees us?”

“We’re shielded from sight.” His gaze swept
downward and her gown disappeared. Warm tingles danced across her
skin. “Any other objections?”

She raised her arms with a contented smile.
“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes.”

Cyndi Friberg

Beyond Ontariese, Book Six
(Series Finale):
With one consuming kiss, King Indric of San
Adrin convinces Cinarra that he will no longer tolerate being only
her protector and trusted friend. Cinarra has longed for the day
when the handsome Bilarrian will see her as more than an
obligation, but she harbors secrets that could destroy their love
before it even has a chance to exist.

Indric has always put the needs of his people
before his own happiness. Duty and honor have kept him from
claiming Cinarra, then an assassination attempt brings everything
into sharper focus. Cinarra is his one true mate and he will not
rest until she surrenders to their mutual desire and agrees to be
his beloved consort.

Two powerful enemies have joined forces;
their common goal to destroy Indric. No risk is too great and no
sacrifice too dear. And anyone Indric loves is a potential target
for their treachery.

Note to Readers:
This book contains
detailed descriptions of sizzling passion only suitable for mature
readers.

From Cyndi:
Even good things must come
to an end, but it was still bittersweet to write this story.
Krystabel, the other royal twin from
Taken by Storm,
has
patiently waited for her turn in the spotlight. She has spent the
past nine years in hiding on Bilarri, using the name Cinarra. She
is a loving mother and loyal friend, but she longs for romance and
adventure. I introduced Indric in
Fire Pearl
and he refused
to be content as a minor character.
Consort
is primarily a
paranormal romance, but it also features scifi and mystery
elements. I hope you enjoy the series finale of
Beyond
Ontariese
!

Cinarra clasped the railing and reminded
herself to breathe. Betaul and Dravon faced off in the tree-lined
yard behind her small house, a cometball on the grass between them.
Though Dravon was thirteen and Betaul only ten, they were exactly
the same height. They were both dark-haired and handsome, both
highly intelligent and well educated. And both desperately in need
of a friend.

Betaul moved first. His kick sent the ball
arcing off to one side, a streak of white light following in its
wake. Dravon ran after the miniature comet, skillfully maneuvering
it back in the other direction. They seemed evenly matched, both
fast and agile.

“How are they doing?” Indric joined her on
the covered patio and her heart reacted with predictable flutters.
They’d been friends for nine years and they’d never so much as
kissed, so why did her body persist with these inappropriate
reactions?

“Remarkably well.” She motioned toward the
yard. “See for yourself. This was a really good idea.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He moved up beside
her and rested his hands on the rail, his tall body shading hers
from the glaring midday sun. “Dravon’s tutors are impressed with
his progress, but he’s so isolated at the palace.”

It was the custom on Bilarri for the princes
of all four regions to spend time with the other regional kings.
This exposed them to every aspect of Bilarrian life, creating more
balanced rulers. Dravon was from the mountainous region of Hautell
with its massive fortified cities and sprawling estates. The
semi-nomadic existence of the San Adrin people must seem very
strange to the young prince.

She glanced at Indric then said, “Betaul has
always seemed more comfortable with adults than people his own age.
I’m really hoping he’ll connect with Dravon.”

They watched the boys for a few minutes in
silence. Cinarra tried to appear relaxed, but her mind was
whirling, as it often was when Indric was around. She should be
used to entertaining royalty by now. Indric had visited regularly
since she’d been on Bilarri. He was always polite and attentive,
always the perfect gentleman, which frustrated her beyond
belief.

She’d come to Bilarri to ensure Betaul’s
safety and to figure out her role in this convoluted universe. Her
first objective had been far more successful than her second.
Betaul was safe. There was still a radical faction on Ontariese,
their homeworld, who thought Betaul’s genetic alterations made him
an abomination, unworthy of life. They were called the New
Reformation Sect or the NRS. The sect hadn’t disbanded, but their
leader’s death had left them without a clear direction for all
their hostility. Now they seemed like a group of unfocused
malcontents, cursing the status quo.

Besides, they believed Betaul died in an
explosion nine years ago. He was growing more independent every
day, less in need of a protector, which left her without a defined
role.

Indric reached over and squeezed her hand.
The casual touch sent heat spiraling up her arm and drew her gaze
back to his handsome face. His hair flowed past his shoulders in
silky waves. Golden strands threaded through the dark, creating a
subtle shimmer whenever he turned his head. A closely trimmed beard
accented his strong jawline and the bold slash of his high cheek
bones, while providing a frame for his sculpted lips. His pupils
were ringed in gold and tiny golden flecks speckled his brown
irises. Most Bilarrian eyes were ringed in red. Gold was unique to
San Adrin’s royal family.

Over simple white pants he wore a sleeveless
tunic heavily embroidered in gold. The style was perfectly suited
to the harsh, arid climate. Still, it wasn’t the immaculate cut of
his clothing but the regal bearing of the man himself that
announced to the world he was a king.

“Are you all right?” His voice was deep and
unusually caressing. “You seem distracted.”

“I’m fine.” She slipped her hand out from
under his and put it in the pocket of her loose, gauzy
k’fal
. Irrigation and sun filtering had tamed the
unforgiving landscape within Camp Rabadah, but the capital city was
still surrounded by vast, sandy deserts. “Just worried about
Betaul.”

“He’s only seen the seasons cycle ten times,
but we both know he’s unusually mature for his age. I’m sure he’ll
rise to whatever challenge life decides to throw his way.”

She nodded. “It’s my job to worry about him.
You can’t fault me for doing my job.”

He stroked her arm, his fingers lingering
against her skin. “I could never find fault with you.”

“Then you’re not trying very hard.” She
ignored the tingles stirred by his slightest touch and motioned
toward the yard. “Ask Betaul. He’ll be happy to list my
faults.”

“You look flushed.” He nodded toward the
door leading into the house. “Let’s go inside.”

Guards were discretely stationed at each
corner of the yard, so there really wasn’t a need to stand there
and watch the boys. They would likely bond faster with a smaller
audience anyway. At least that was her hope.

Indric opened the door and tension gathered
in the pit of her stomach. Her house was small and unassuming, cozy
even. She’d been a prisoner on Earth the majority of her life, so
anything without containment fields and continual surveillance was
sufficient for her needs. But Indric was King of San Adrin, the
second largest region on Bilarri. He was used to magnificent
palaces, lavishly furnished with every imaginable luxury.

And yet he kept coming back to her tiny
house.

She took a step toward the doorway and the
cometball whizzed past her face slamming into the back of the
house. Her startled cry turned to a laugh as she reached down and
retrieved the stray ball.

“Sorry,” Dravon called, holding up his arms
with obvious expectation.

Hoping the adrenaline rush would increase
her range, she took aim and threw as hard as she could. The ball
flew toward Dravon’s waiting hands then muffled popping sounds drew
her attention toward the high hedgerow on the left side of the
yard. Greenish balls of light arced toward the boys and Cinarra
screamed.

“Get down!” one of the guards shouted as
Cinarra bolted toward the stairs leading to the backyard.

Guards scattered in every direction, some
racing toward the boys, others sprinting toward the hedgerow.
Betaul dove for Dravon, arm extended, palm out, as if he could ward
off the projectile shower. One of the incandescent balls drilled
through his hand and Cinarra screamed even louder than Betaul.
Helpless despite her frantic pace, she watched in horror as another
ball burned into his calf. The rest of the shower sputtered out
harmlessly against the damp grass.

Indric caught up to her as she reached the
boys. One of the guards had already pulled Betaul off Dravon and
was attempting to minimize Betaul’s movements as he writhed,
mindless from the pain. Another guard quickly checked the prince
for injuries.

“He’s clear,” Dravon’s guard announced, so
Cinarra focused entirely on Betaul.

“You feel no pain.” Indric’s voice washed
over her with intoxicating heat and she wasn’t surprised when
Betaul stopped thrashing. He still cradled his injured hand against
his chest, but pain’s haze gradually cleared from his bright green
eyes.

“How did he do that?” Betaul sounded
dazed.

“It doesn’t matter.” She smiled and brushed
the hair back from his face. “Let me see your hand. The pain is
blocked, but the wound is still there.” Her sister had warned her
that Indric could influence people with his voice. Still, she’d had
no idea how easily or
completely
he could wield the power.
Would she have sensed the same strange tingling if he ever tried to
compel her?

Betaul unfolded his arm and held out his
hand. Cinarra fought hard to remain calm and keep her expression
gentle. A thumb-thick hole had been seared through the boy’s palm.
Someone gasped and another muttered something she didn’t
understand, but Betaul seemed oblivious to the seriousness of his
injuries.

Indric motioned to Dravon’s guard. “Take him
in the house and do not let him out of your sight.”

“Of course, Sire.”

Cinarra guided Betaul’s hand into her lap
and placed her palm over his, close to but not touching his charred
flesh. It had been nine years since she used her abilities to do
anything other than communicate. The risk of discovery was simply
too great. Uncertainty twisted inside her, turning her belly
cold.

Indric wrapped his arm around her and gently
squeezed. “I can flash him to a healer. I know it’s been a long
time for you.”