Lonen's War (29 page)

“I can’t marry you, Oria.” Desperation
filled his voice, paining her. She hadn’t intended to trap him, but
the way he thrashed internally confirmed that she had done so.
She’d thought—well, she’d hoped—that he wouldn’t hate the idea of
marrying her so much. They’d had something of a tentative
friendship, but apparently not enough to make even a
marriage-in-name-only to her palatable. She steeled herself to
persuade him.

“You can’t afford not to. I can’t help you
any other way.”

“What about heirs? I can’t have a queen who
won’t bear me children.”

“What about your brother—can his children be
your heirs?”

“Possibly,” he admitted. “My older brother
left two sons behind when he ascended to the Hall of Warriors. By
Destrye law, the crown passes to my father’s children first, before
going to the next generation. But if I have no sons and Arnon
persists in his refusal to be my heir, then Ion’s sons would be
next in line.” He shrugged off the musings and focused on her with
renewed intensity. The image broke through her still-clumsy
screening, of her beneath him, naked and writhing, her husky voice
gasping his name in pleasure. “But why couldn’t we be husband and
wife in truth?”

“Lonen.” Inadvertently she echoed her
fantasy self. She knotted her fingers together, face hot under the
mask. “Because I simply can’t. It’s not possible for me.”

He was quiet a moment. “I don’t
understand.”

“I’m not surprised, but I’m asking you to
trust that I’m telling you the truth. When I ask you not to touch
me, it’s not because I find you unwholesome. It has to do with who
I am. Not who you are. But it’s so much part of who I am that it
won’t change. No matter how long we’re married, we will never lie
together as husband and wife.”

“You speak as if I’ve agreed to this wild
plan.”

“Neither of us has a choice in this. You,
like me, are bound to act in the best interests of your people. You
can’t save the Destrye from the Trom without me, and I can’t defend
them unless I’m their queen.”

“And you’d do this, simply to keep your
promise.”

“Yes. And because this will also make me
Queen of Bára, which will let me protect my people here, too.” She
didn’t tell him about Yar. Time enough to judiciously admit him to
Báran secrets in the days ahead. Most of the politics wouldn’t be
his to deal with anyway, so no need for Lonen to know. He didn’t
say anything, however, the silence stretching out while dark
emotions rolled in waves beneath the surface, like the lethal rip
currents of the sea.

“I’m sorry,” Oria said finally. “Perhaps I
was wrong and marriage to me will break your heart, after all.” She
wished the words back, because she sounded entirely too sorry for
herself.

“And you—are you giving up someone or would
you have never married otherwise?” he asked, surprising her. The
question took her emotional breath away. Impossible to explain to
him what she’d be giving up—and also placing a burden of guilt on
him he didn’t deserve.

Proud of herself for sounding cool and
remote, she told him, “You once pointed out that my life is a
strange one, to live in this tower alone. I shall simply continue
to do so.”

“Because of this thing where you can’t touch
anyone.”

“Yes.” Better for him to believe that than
to know the truth.

“All right then,” he said abruptly, standing
and scrubbing his palm on his pants, then sticking out a hand.
“It’s a bargain.”

She stood also. Folded her hands together
and tried to ignore the spike of hurt and annoyance from him that
she refused his hand. “Agreed.”

Lonen left her to go bathe, eat, and rest, and Oria
finally cut the ribbons on her mask, welcoming the breezes that
cooled her skin.

“
A fine time for you to ignore my
advice,”
Chuffta said, but compassionately, without rancor.

“What else could I do?” Oria wiped the sweat
from under her eyes, telling herself she couldn’t possibly be
weeping over the loss of a girlish dream. “I made a promise. And
Bára owes the Destrye far more than the price of one woman’s
happiness.”

“
Your mother won’t be pleased.”

“No.” Oria dreaded breaking the news to her
mother. There would never be a temple-blessed marriage for her, no
babies to carry on the maternal line. Though if she could prevent a
daughter of hers from facing the thing in the blue light… Even the
memory made her a little ill. “But this marriage will put me one
step closer to the throne, and that
will
make her happy. I
need to arrange to see her and make the argument. Having her
support with the temple and the council could make all the
difference.”

“
Was it worth it?”
Chuffta asked, the
first time he’d mentioned her ordeal in the heart of Bára’s
magic.

“To be able to wield sgath, instead of being
at the mercy of it? Maybe. But to have the potential to keep the
Trom from consuming everyone and everything, then yes. Absolutely
so.”

“
You couldn’t know Yar would send the
Trom to Dru. That he’d even be able to, and so soon.”

“But I might have predicted it and I missed
it. Still, he also failed to predict me.”

“
What do you mean, Oria?”
Chuffta’s
mind-voice bristled with suspicion.

“I won’t have a temple-blessed marriage, but
as queen I’ll have full access to the temple knowledge—the
information High Priestess Febe gave Yar to summon the Trom.”

“
You can’t mean to do the same.”
Chuffta’s mind-voice held a panicked edge.

“I can and I will.” Oria settled into the
resolve. “How else can I control what they do, what Yar attempts? I
must fight his Trom with mine.”

Chuffta was quiet, his tail winding around
her wrist.
“You know the danger in this. Without true
hwil
you’ll be subject to corruption from those dark magics. It could
be your undoing.”

“But for the right reasons.”

“
I’m not sure that matters.”

“I understand if this breaks our contract,”
she managed, no longer fighting the tears. “I’ll release you if you
feel you can’t be part of this.”

She felt his slight hesitation as he
considered. But then he replied.

“
You’re not alone. I’m always with
you.”

“Thank you. That means more than I can
say.”

She would need all of Chuffta’s support in
the days ahead—and his company. Something told her that taking the
Destrye as a husband would create as many problems as it would
solve. It seemed impossible that she should feel lonelier than
ever.

As the dry desert wind dried the tears on
her cheeks to salt, she turned her thoughts away from the sand trap
of self pity.

She had more important things to think
about.

Look for the next book in this series –
Oria’s Gambit
–
coming August 17, 2016

About Jeffe Kennedy

Jeffe Kennedy is an award-winning author whose works
include non-fiction, poetry, short fiction, and novels. She has
been a Ucross Foundation Fellow, received the Wyoming Arts Council
Fellowship for Poetry, and was awarded a Frank Nelson Doubleday
Memorial Award. Her essays have appeared in many publications,
including Redbook.

Her most recent works include a number of
fiction series: the fantasy romance novels of
A Covenant of Thorns
; the contemporary BDSM novellas of
the
Facets of Passion
, and an erotic contemporary serial
novel,
Master of the Opera
. A fourth series, the fantasy
trilogy
The Twelve Kingdoms
, hit the shelves starting in May
2014 and book 1,
The Mark of the
Tala
, received a starred Library Journal review was
nominated for the
RT Book of
the Year
while the sequel,
The Tears of the
Rose
was nominated for
the RT
Reviewers’ Choice Best Fantasy Romance of
2014 and the
third book,
The Talon of
the Hawk
, won
the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Fantasy Romance of 2015
.
Two more books will follow in this world, beginning with
The Pages of the
Mind
May 2016. A fifth series, the erotic romance
trilogy,
Falling
Under
, started with
Going Under
,
and was followed by
Under His
Touch
and
Under
Contract
.

She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, with two
Maine coon cats, plentiful free-range lizards and a very handsome
Doctor of Oriental Medicine.

Jeffe can be found online at her website:
JeffeKennedy.com
, every
Sunday at the popular
SFF Seven blog
, on
Facebook
,
on
Goodreads
and pretty much constantly on Twitter
@jeffekennedy
. She is
represented by Connor Goldsmith of
Fuse Literary
.