“He just brought it up today. I was too tired
to fight about it much, but I don’t want to go, especially now of
all times.” Tears shimmered in her lowered eyes. “I don’t want to
leave him right now.”
“I’d be happy to talk to Jayems for you, if
you like,” she offered.
Fresh tears of gratitude sprang to Rihlia’s
eyes, and Jasmine jumped up, rushed her goodbyes, and beat a fast
retreat.
God save them all from pregnant women.
Jasmine commandeered a bench at the side of
the training area where Keilor was instructing a group of soldiers
in the art of the sword. She’d never watched him at work, and it
was a novel experience to see him through the eyes of his
students.
They worshiped him. He asked the impossible,
and they delivered because it was he who asked. He was curt, but
never cruel. He didn’t accept excuses, merely worked patiently with
a student until that student understood what he wanted of him,
demonstrating where necessary. The beauty of it was, his
demonstrations were always matter-of-fact and instructional, never
an outlet to showcase his own skill.
And he was skilled. Every fluid movement and
graceful gesture spoke of strength and stamina, both in battle,
and—
“Mind if we join you?” Urseya, dressed in a
stunning brocade gown of rust and gold, joined Jasmine on her bench
without waiting for an answer. Leo, accompanied by two of the
Symbiont riders, took the remaining space on Jasmine’s other
side.
An unaccustomed stab of jealousy groped at
Jasmine’s heart, but she pushed it aside. There was no reason to
feel that way, and she wasn’t about to start playing the clinging,
insecure wife at this late date.
“I understand that congratulations are in
order.” Urseya glanced at Jasmine’s stomach, and for a moment a
flash of something dark and glacial surfaced in her eyes before
swimming away from the light.
Jasmine stilled and searched her face. Her
brain had instantly labeled the dark thing malice, and her every
instinct told her not to relax, to search below the surface of
Urseya’s now placid face. “Yes.”
“I suppose Keilor is very happy,” she said,
watching him demonstrate a movement without expression. “If the
child survives, I’m certain that its...mixed blood will barely
bother him.”
“Why wouldn’t it survive, Urseya?”
Indifferent eyes moved again to Jasmine’s
stomach. “We’ve only the history of the by-blows, of course, but
the odds of you carrying the baby through the third month are
astronomical. No human woman has ever carried a Haunt child past
the fourth month. Didn’t you know?”
Leo cleared her throat. “The symbiont might
make all the difference, Lady Jasmine,” she said quickly, touching
Jasmine’s shoulder. “You’ve seen yourself what they can do. I
wouldn’t concern myself too much about it.”
Urseya’s voice dripped false concern. “I’m
certain Keilor only wished to protect you by not telling you
this.”
A low sound of fury escaped Jasmine’s lips as
she rounded on Urseya. “Do not pretend to be my friend. Now
leave!”
“Do not presume to order me around, charmer,”
Urseya sneered, allowing gold to flicker in her eyes. Isfael took a
warning step nearer, and she eyed him with contempt, standing up.
“Do not worry for her, charmer’s pet. She faces no danger from me.”
She cast one more mocking look at Jasmine’s belly and turned on her
heel, leaving in a swirl of rust brocade.
Still simmering, Jasmine saw Keilor approach
from the corner of her eye. “Your best defense is silence,” she
warned him before he could say a word. Standing up, she told him
with barely suppressed fury, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go
check on the fragile sticker apparently glued to my forehead. I
think I feel it peeling off.”
Keilor, of course, did not leave her to
simmer, but fell into step at her side. “It’s a well known fact
that even strong women behave oddly when they’re breeding. Just
look at Rihlia.”
“I did, I have, and I’ll forgive you on those
grounds this time only. Do you understand? This is my body, Keilor!
You can’t just demand courtesy without giving any in return.” She
took his silence for agreement. “Now, don’t you have a class to
run?”
“What did Urseya say to you?” he asked,
ignoring her hint.
Her lips tightened. “I think you got the gist
of it.”
A gentle but firm hand on her arm pulled her
to a stop in the shadow of a garden archway. “I’m not interested in
the ‘gist’ of it, Jasmine. I need to know details.” His serious,
concerned expression told her without words why.
“You’re afraid that she…” she whispered,
unsettled. She wanted to protest, to say that even Urseya wouldn’t
sink so low as to betray her family, but the words died unspoken.
With everything that had happened, dare she dismiss Urseya’s
actions as simple jealousy? She touched her stomach, remembering
the dark thing in Urseya’s eyes, and clenched her jaw. “Why don’t
we go find some privacy?”
Jayems rubbed his lips with his thumb, his
face grim as Jasmine finished repeating her brief exchange with
Urseya.
“I’ve already assigned the necessary
personnel to look into it,” Keilor assured him, crossing his arms
as he waited for Jayems to respond.
Jayems glanced at Jasmine, who was seated in
a chair in front of his desk. His gaze cut to Keilor. “Are you
prepared to use the option we discussed now?”
Keilor closed his eyes and sighed in
frustration. “Jasmine.”
She looked at him expectantly. She’d never
seen him so tense, and she braced for the worse. “Yes?”
“Knightin is not dead. We have him in
custody.” When the blood drained out of her face, he took her hand
and knelt at her side. “Easy. He can’t hurt you now.”
She nodded. She trusted him.
“But he has given us no useful information,
and right now we need detailed, accurate facts. You could help us
with that, if you’re willing.” At her mystified look, he explained,
“You could command him to speak, to tell us what we wish to
know.”
Misery settled over Jasmine’s expression.
She’d thought she’d left that sort of thing behind when she’d
married him.
Do I have to?
her expression said, but out loud
she answered, “I guess so.”
He was silent for a moment, and then he
touched her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
Chapter 29
Keilor did not like taking her here, to the
interrogation room on the prison level. It went against his every
instinct to expose her to this white-walled dungeon, even if, with
the exception of Knightin, she’d never see the prisoners.
Knightin was already manacled to a chair when
they entered the bare room, and before he could register his
danger, Jasmine did as she’d been instructed, saying quickly,
“
Don’t turn to Haunt.”
Knightin blinked at her.
Flanked by Jayems and her husband, Jasmine
sat down in the chair across the table from Knightin and studied
him for a moment. His long red hair was unkempt, hanging loose
around his shoulders, and his face sported the beginnings of a
beard and fading bruises, but his blue eyes held a startling
lucidity.
She cleared her throat. “
Tell us the names
of those who’ve worked with you against my family.”
Obediently
he began to rattle off a list of names. Jasmine watched him for
nearly a minute. “He’s lying.”
“How can he be?” Keilor asked, sending her a
sharp look. “He’s not mated.”
“Look at his eyes. No dilation,” Jasmine
insisted, even as Keilor started swearing. Jayems called for a
guard and began questioning him, but Jasmine barely paid attention.
“Who’s the girl?” she asked, looking into Knightin’s mocking
face.
He blew her a kiss.
“Enough of this.” Keilor took her arm and
assisted Jasmine out of her chair. A medic entered the room with a
syringe and Keilor subtly maneuvered so the instrument was out of
her sight. “Call me when you need me,” he told Jayems, leading her
out the door.
Jasmine craned her neck to get another look
at the needle, but Keilor hurried her on. “What was that?” she
asked, a sick feeling in her gut.
“Truth serum,” Keilor answered, never slowing
in his brisk walk.
“Why didn’t you use it before?” Jasmine
asked, puzzled. “Why bother with me?”
His nostrils flared. “It’s clumsy, as well as
fatal. He might not have given us the information we needed before
he expired.”
Jasmine froze in her tracks. “You’re going to
kill him?”
“It is what we do with traitors and
murderers.”
She shivered. When he’d led her out of the
prison level and into the sunlight, she broke away and jogged
towards a bench set up in a nearby grove of orange trees. She sat
down and hid her face in her hands.
The general public did not see condemned men
in the society that had raised her. She’d always believed in the
code ‘an eye for an eye’, but seeing that code in execution brought
death much closer to home than it had ever been before. Even her
near-death in the swamps had been a dreamy, almost peaceful thing.
The stark walls and ugly needle she’d just witnessed were no
dream.
A vision of Keilor’s sword came to mind, and
her breath hitched and came much faster than it should have, making
her dizzy. He’d been in a war. He’d spoken of killing, but she’d
never connected his words with the vision of carnage spilling into
her mind at that moment. Blood on sparkling steel, blood
everywhere...or would the energy blades cauterize the wounds? Then
there would only be piles of mangled bodies…
Keilor put his arms around her. “I’m sorry
you had to see that.”
She buried her face in his chest. “Would you
have killed me, too, if Rihlia hadn’t made you promise? I
understand now—you hated what I was.”
He stilled. It was a while before he spoke.
“It’s better not to look back, Dragonfly. I don’t want to think
about it.”
She sighed heavily. It was as she’d
thought.
He met her eyes and brushed her hair gently
behind her ear. “Would you like to visit my parent’s memorial? It’s
past time I introduced you.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I’d like
that.”
He offered her his arm. After they’d walked a
little while in silence, he said, “I’ve never taken a woman to see
them.”
“Well,” she demurred, “You’ve never had a
wife before.”
“I was engaged, once, a long time ago,” he
said, surprising her. “She never saw them.”
“Oh.” The rest of the walk was made in
silence.
The memorial was one among many in a lovely
plot of mossy ground. It was nothing more than an obelisk of
polished granite with a plaque, but Keilor caressed the stone with
tenderness and a hint of longing. “My father, Dais, my mother
Jacqueline and my brothers, Ellis and Mick. My mother was pregnant
with my little sister, but she never had a name.”
Jasmine took his hand and kissed it. “I’ve
always liked the name Rain.”
His brows shot up. “You wish to name her?” he
asked, as if the idea had never occurred to him.
She shrugged. “Why not? It beats calling her
baby, doesn’t it?”
He inclined his head with a wry smile. “Rain
it is.” He pulled her to him, resting his hand against her stomach,
holding her close.
His life had come full circle.
Keilor had further business to attend to that
afternoon, so Jasmine decided to pay Rihlia another visit. Heaven
knew she must be bored out of her gourd being cooped up in bed so
much.
Rihlia’s mother, Lady Rhapsody, was just
leaving as Jasmine arrived, and she looked relieved to see her.
“Jasmine, dear, you’re just the person I needed to see,” she said,
taking Jasmine’s hands. “I am so worried about my daughter. Could
you spare a little time to take tea with me? There are some things
I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Uh, sure,” Jasmine agreed, pulling her hands
discreetly from Rhapsody’s dry grasp. She’d never been comfortable
around the stately older lady, something she’d attributed to the
aura of royalty that cloaked her. However, if she was worried about
Rihlia, Jasmine would be glad to give her all the help she
could.
The suite of rooms that belonged to Rhapsody
was close by, and within a minute Jasmine entered the main living
quarters. It was very...white.
Snow-white walls broken only by crystal
framed pictures of family members held a room full of ivory wood
and white upholstery. The carpet was white. A regimented row of
white statue-topped pedestals marched along the walls.
Jasmine felt as if she’d stepped inside a
snowball. It was not a comfortable sensation.
Rhapsody directed her to sit in one of the
wing chairs while she prepared the tea, and Jasmine twiddled her
thumbs and eyed her colorless environment, trying not to shiver.
Oh, what she’d give for a bucket of paint and a few brightly woven
Indian blankets. Naughty thoughts of redecoration schemes involving
stuffed moose heads, loud slip covers and a few busts of Elvis kept
her occupied until Rhapsody returned with the tea tray bearing
unadorned white china. Come to think of it, she was wearing white
today as well.
I bet I can guess your favorite color,
Jasmine thought, biting her tongue so she wouldn’t say it. She
might have grown up a hooligan, but she still had a healthy respect
for her elders. “Thank you,” she said instead, accepting the
scalding cup of tea and setting it on her saucer to cool. “So
what’s on your mind?” she inquired as Rhapsody made herself
comfortable in the chair opposite the tea table.
Looking a little surprised at Jasmine’s
disregard for the formalities, Rhapsody folded her hands in her lap
and surveyed her guest. “I’m concerned with my daughter’s
despondency. She has been very emotional since the attack, and I
can’t seem to make her open up to me.”