A humorless smile traced Mathin’s lips.
“Perhaps, in my case, it would be better to remain childless.”
There was a moment of silence. Mathin’s line was not called the Mad
for nothing.
“Besides, legend has it that to lie with a
charmer is to experience pleasure worth dying for. Is it not said
that more than one Haunt went to his death, smiling, after a night
with a charmer?” He leaned forward, disregarding Keilor’s black
look. “I’m no mewling virgin, Keilor. I’ve known satisfaction many
times, but never have I—” he broke off, looking frustrated, as if
the words eluded him. Or perhaps it was only that he realized the
personal nature of what he’d been about to reveal. He finished
gruffly with, “I’d like to test the legend.”
“To legends,” Keilor toasted him, not
bothering with childish denials. Jasmine would be his tomorrow, and
he was man enough to let his jealousy go, even though he wanted
nothing better than to bare his teeth and launch himself across the
table. To distract himself, he asked, “And what do you think drives
her other suitors? Other than lust?”
Mathin snorted and refilled their cups.
“Bloodless politics, my friend. A man can adopt children, but how
many get the chance to ally themselves with the strongest family in
the realm?” Keilor grunted, and he grinned. “Though no doubt the
lady has some attraction.”
Keilor ignored him.
“Speaking of women, where is your cousin,
Fallon?” A wolfish gleam glimmered in his eyes. “Off on one of his
mysterious journeys?”
Keilor gave him a bland look. Mathin knew
full well where Fallon had gone, and he’d give his right nut to be
able to follow. Even Mathin would have to have a powerful reason to
use the gate uninvited, however. Volti were known for their
savagery.
Obviously using great restraint, Mathin said
nothing more. He was a proud man, and he wasn’t going to sulk. “I
marvel at his timing.” He refilled their empty glasses. “Is he
still determined to keep his freedom, or has your loyal cousin
ceded the game to you?”
Before Keilor could open his mouth to retort,
a knock sounded on the door.
“Come,” Mathin called. A messenger entered
and handed him a slip of paper. A slow, wicked smile curved
Mathin’s lips as he scanned the note. “Tell her yes,” he told the
messenger, who nodded with respect and disappeared.
Mathin tossed Keilor the note and tilted his
chair back to watch his face.
He wasn’t disappointed.
Two glowing slits were all that remained of
Keilor’s eyes when he finished and tossed the note to the table.
His nostrils flared wide as he stared at it, wishing he could
incinerate it and the nine others like it. No doubt the little
witch did it just to torment him.
“It would seem the Lady Jasmine is curious
about the Ten,” Mathin needled him, the devil in his eyes. “Or
perhaps just
one
of the Ten?”
Keilor snarled at him.
Chapter 16
“Were you invited?” Jasmine murmured coldly
to him the next morning as he joined her and the Ten for breakfast.
They were on the opposite side of the formal dining room from the
rest of the gathering, which also included the female members of
his family, most likely to help insure good behavior.
Keeping his voice equally low, he leaned
forward and breathed in her ear, “After the private invitation you
extended to me last night, I had no reason to think you’d exclude
me this morning. Or are you afraid to face me?”
There were so many things Jasmine wanted to
say to that, the numerous messages temporarily paralyzed her
tongue. Keilor just smiled at her and joined the rest of the men.
For a moment she didn’t dare turn around, afraid the rage coursing
through her would make her behave like a fool. She considered,
strongly
,
calling the guards and having him thrown out.
The man had left her—
left
her
!
shaking and huddled in his bath,
suffering the twin agonies of humiliation and blistering desire. He
had made her want him, and then been cold enough to leave her there
to suffer. The man was cruel, and after she’d stumbled back to her
room with two Haunt guards watching her with suspicion, she’d let
out her anger and hurt in a flood of bitter tears.
Never again.
Rihlia snared Keilor into standing with her
to say the blessing. She knew all about last night, and her lightly
veiled anger shimmered in her eyes. He couldn’t have missed it, but
other than one wary look, he made no comment.
Inviting the Ten to breakfast this morning
had been her idea.
“He wants to play games with you, fine,”
she’d said, furious on Jasmine’s behalf. “
We’ll skewer the rat
and roast him over a fire made of the sexiest men we can find.
We’ll teach the arrogant jerk not to play games he can’t
win.”
Somehow, the idea had seemed much better last
night.
The smile she offered Mathin, the handsomest
of her guests, and the most likely to defeat Keilor today, was a
pale imitation of the flirtatious smile she’d meant to deliver. She
felt too bruised to offer more.
Something odd flashed in Mathin’s eyes when
she looked at him, almost as if he saw the truth behind her smile.
His eyes flickered to Keilor, an indecipherable expression in them.
When he looked at Jasmine again, though, his expression was clear.
“May I share the blessing with you, Lady Jasmine?” he asked, and
his rough voice sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.
“Please,” she answered, mentally swearing at
herself as his large, warm hands closed over her shoulders, making
her nerves jump with awareness. She closed her eyes, shutting
herself in solitary darkness as the blessing was said.
It’s just a side affect of last night
,
she assured herself. Then, angrily, So I feel a little thrill when
a handsome man touches me. I’m young, and healthy, and it’s not as
if— She broke into a cold sweat. Even in her mind, her heart
wouldn’t let her complete the sentence. Panicked, she thought with
desperation, I don’t belong to him! He doesn’t have any claim on
me! Her eyes opened. She saw Keilor looking straight at her, and
her heart condemned her for a liar.
The meal began, and it was all she could do
at first simply to hide her trembling hands. Eleven hungry men made
quick work of the quiche and sweet pastries, thinly sliced roast
and steaming asparagus. No one seemed to notice that she barely
nibbled at her own breakfast.
In an effort to make conversation, she asked
Mathin, “Are you nervous about the tournament today?”
Chuckles broke out around the table, and one
of Mathin’s dark brows quirked. With great amusement, he answered,
“Should I be?”
A touch annoyed at his arrogance, she
answered with mock innocence, “Haven’t you heard?” she paused a
moment, dragging out the suspense. Even the women looked at her
with curiosity. “Urseya has vowed to take to the field and show you
all up as bumbling boys.”
Urseya’s eyes widened in shock, and it was
all Jasmine could do to keep a straight face as the men stared at
the young woman in astonishment. “I understand she’s a wicked hand
with a energy blade.”
Urseya surprised her by leaning back in her
chair with regal calm. “You hear correctly, cousin.” She tilted her
head, and without the slightest trace of humor, told Mathin, “I’m
quite certain you’d find me unconquerable.”
An appreciative gleam appeared in his eyes.
“Then I’ll have to ask you to beg off, warrior queen. I’d hate to
risk public humiliation at your hands.” He gave her a mischievous
smile, and at his words the snorts and muffled snickers broke into
full-blown guffaws. Even Urseya allowed a slight smile to touch her
mouth.
Jasmine and Rihlia looked at each other, and
Jasmine raised her brows.
This was interesting.
“Well, maybe
I can talk her into a private duel with the winner,” Jasmine
said.
“So long as it’s not directly after the
tournament,” Keilor interjected. “I’ll be otherwise occupied this
evening.” Silence descended on the table.
Jasmine stared at him. Had the man been born
with that ego, or had it taken years to inflate to such mammoth
proportions? When the eyes of all of the warriors bugged out, she
realized she’d said as much aloud. Even Mathin stared at her,
incredulous.
Nuclear winter stormed behind Keilor’s eyes,
but his voice was calm when he answered, “Name a warrior who has
defeated me since I became a man, Lady, and I will give you
everything I own.”
Jasmine held his gaze, refusing to give
ground. She might not be able to take him with a blade, but she
wouldn’t be the first one to give way now.
“Which is a great deal, by the way,” Rhapsody
broke in, almost babbling.
Startled, Jasmine’s eyes leapt to her,
breaking her standoff with Keilor. It took nearly a minute for
Jasmine to understand that Rhapsody was doing her best to break the
tension, and another for her to turn to Mathin and attempt to
converse politely. Choosing the first topic that came to mind, she
asked, “So...do you like kids?”
Looking puzzled, he answered, “I fail to see
why it would matter.” When she just frowned at him, he said warily,
“You don’t know, do you?” When her frown got deeper, he told her,
“Humans and Haunt never produce children.”
Eventually she blinked. She had no choice—her
lids simply closed over her burning eyes and opened of their own
accord. Her lungs pumped and drew air into her starving lungs, and
even her heartbeat began again, even if it did lurch and bump
erratically.
But she did not feel. Her head nodded once,
and then she calmly returned to eating her breakfast, a perfectly
calm expression on her face.
She did not taste a crumb.
The meal ended shortly after that, and she
thanked everyone cordially for coming and watched as they filed out
of the room, shooting her wary glances.
As the last one closed the door behind him,
Keilor said from beside her, “Jasmine.”
Without a thought, she turned and slapped his
face as hard as she could.
She’d almost thought she’d heard emotion in
his voice.
Mathin was waiting for him in the hall. “What
happened between you two last night?” he asked with deceptive
quietness.
Keilor looked back at the door, but he was
clearly picturing the woman within. “Apparently, not enough.”
Jasmine did not give a speech that day.
She watched with dispassion as the Master of
Ceremonies announced the events and the names of the participants.
Yesterday all of the Ten had worn Jayems’ colors; today each wore
the uniform of their own clan. Only two wore the familiar black
uniforms of Jayems’ guards. One of them was Mathin.
The other was Keilor.
Rihlia and the others were with her in the
pavilion, but she refused to look at anyone. She could easily
believe her friend had no knowledge of...the child thing, but
apparently it was common knowledge among the others. Rhapsody had
explained that she hadn’t thought of it exactly because it
was
such common knowledge. That did not excuse Jayems. It
did not excuse Keilor.
She hadn’t been under any illusions. She’d
known exactly what her so called ‘suitors’ wanted from her. It was
upsetting, though, to be so casually slapped in the face with the
fact that none of them had cared enough about her to be upset that
she couldn’t have children. Wouldn’t a man who felt something for a
woman have the courtesy to at least
tell
her he could never
give her a child?
A blazing wall of fire flared up directly in
front of the gates, and eleven riders charged out, up the ramp, and
through the flames. Jasmine glowered at them. She was determined
not to be impressed no matter what antics they pulled.
That idea lasted all of three minutes.
When the first stag beast sailed over Keilor,
who raked its belly with the tip of his sword, just cutting through
its rider’s girth, she thought she would have heart failure. When
that rider managed to shed his saddle in mid-air, land, and still
remain seated on his stag, she knew this was going to be nothing
like yesterday.
The stags were as vicious as their masters,
and astonishingly limber. It was amazing the men could even keep
their seats, let alone still have the ability to strike at one
another with such strength and speed. Blue sparks showered from
each strike, but perhaps they didn’t burn, for the unprotected arms
of the warriors never flinched.
Jasmine did their flinching for them.
The battle raged hot and furious, and it
didn’t stop until one rider ended up in the dust. Drums sounded and
a shofar blew, and that battle was over.
The men barely had time to wipe the sweat and
grime from their faces with the backs of their hands when fireworks
exploded practically under their stag’s feet. Jasmine gripped her
chair, afraid she was going to see guts. An opaque blue haze rose
up, obscuring the scattered riders from view. When the sound of
battle rose from the blue smoke, Jayems explained without
prompting, “They’re fighting blind, using scent, hearing, and
kinetic sense to find their opponents. The stag is particularly
useful for such combat, as its kinetic sense and bravery match that
of a Haunt. A horse would be worse than useless in such a
fight.”
Jasmine wanted to ask what kinetic sense was,
but she was busy. She gripped the arms of her chair and strained in
vain to catch a glimpse of what was going on in the cloud.
“Man down!” someone shouted, and immediately
the haze began to clear. Nine riders appeared out of the smoke, and
one man limped off the field, holding on to his stag.
Dread snaked through her, and Jasmine bit her
lip. Before she could think, she said to Jayems, “Make them stop.
I’m not worth this.” Jayems looked at her, but didn’t say a
word.