soldier to send the messenger to the
study. He looked to Varian, who
glared at him before looking back to
the two soldiers who were about to
start
fighting
once
more,
and
reluctantly followed him to the library.
A soldier escorted the messenger
into the library.
“Well?”
Varian
demanded,
impatience obvious in his voice.
“What is the message?”
The messenger looked from Varian
to Vulcan before swallowing audibly.
Vulcan’s scowl only deepened.
Drawing in a breath, the messenger
said, “I am to give the message only to
the Princess Jaisyn of Lytheria.”
Vulcan’s
and
Varian’s
eyes
narrowed simultaneously.
“Who is the message from?”
Vulcan’s tone was biting, and his dark
eyes looked murderous.
The messenger flinched and replied
slowly. “I am only to discuss that only
with Princess Jaisyn.”
Vulcan motioned to the soldier at
the door.
“Bring
Princess
Jaisyn
here
immediately,”
he
began,
staring
directly at the messenger. “And have
one of the squires fetch my sword.”
The soldier nodded and went about
his assigned tasks. Vulcan wished
Jaisyn would get here quickly so that
he could truly wring her neck. He
didn’t know what she’d done, but he
knew that he wasn’t going to like it.
Whenever Jaisyn was involved, there
was trouble.
***
A feeling of foreboding snaked
through her as Jaisyn made her way
to what had been her father’s study.
She was reaching for the door when it
was suddenly yanked open and a
man, probably the messenger, ran
past her and headed for the main
doors. If the messenger was gone,
then—
“Come in and close the door behind
you.”
Vulcan did not sound happy, not
that he ever did, but this time, he
sounded even worse. He sounded
ready to commit murder... on her. As
she closed the door, she noticed that
Vulcan’s unsheathed sword lay atop
the large wooden desk and an
unrolled parchment was right before
it. Someone cleared his throat. Varian
was also in the room. He stood by one
of the bookshelves, on his brother’s
right. Whenever she’d encountered
Varian in the past two weeks, he’d
given her a smile, which usually
calmed her slightly. Today, there was
no smile. In fact, his expression
mimicked his brother’s.
“Exactly what did you promise the
Prince
of
Mitherie?”
Vulcan
demanded as soon as she closed the
door.
Jaisyn started. Was that what the
messenger had conveyed? A response
from Tarbin of Mitherie? If that was
it, then Vulcan shouldn’t be so angry.
No doubt Tarbin had sent a
messenger to tell Jaisyn that he’d
received both of her messages and
that he understood. As Lytheria and
Mitherie had been allies for many
years, the St. Ives family had seen the
Kataral family at least once a year. As
Tarbin was the closet to her age,
Jaisyn had always felt more connected
to him than to his brothers.
“Your King asked you a question,”
Varian said tensely, and Jaisyn caught
sight of a part of Varian she’d never
seen before. She’d always thought
that they were opposites, but seeing
them as they were now, no one would
doubt that these two men were sired
by the same father.
Jaisyn’s eyes snapped fire at both of
them. “Nothing. I promised him
nothing.”
Vulcan’s chair flew backward as he
pushed himself up. “You are lying!”
“Then why ask, if you have no
intention of believing me?” She spat
the words at him, her golden eyes
clashing violently with the dark anger
of his gaze.
“Tarbin of Mitherie has sent you a
message,” Vulcan told her, snatching
up the parchment in his hand and
waving it before her face. “He has
accepted whatever you have promised
him! What—
and I will not ask you
again
—have you promised him?”
She had two choices: she could
explain or she could continue to lie.
Continuing to lie did seem so
appealing as she stared from Vulcan’s
simmering anger to Varian’s coiled
rage. Telling the truth might keep
Vulcan from killing her. Then again, it
might drive him to actually do it. She
sent up a prayer to Lyria before she
began speaking.
“I promised him Lytheria,” she
began, only to be cut off as the
brothers let out a simultaneous string
of curses that she neither understood,
nor wished to.
Vulcan was still cursing when
Varian asked in clipped-no-nonsense
tones, “And how would he get
Lytheria?”
Jaisyn licked her suddenly dry lips
and couldn’t help but wish she had
her sword nearby. She turned to
Vulcan and stared him right in the
eyes. “Through me.”
“You cannot promise something that
is not yours!” Vulcan roared, pacing
about his desk. Jaisyn wisely held her
tongue.
Lytheria
was
hers
by
birthright; it was his by brute strength.
She had more of a right to Lytheria
than he did.
“Through you?” Varian continued,
those pale eyes burning through her
skin. “You offered yourself to the
Prince of Mitherie?”
Those words brought Vulcan up
short as he pinned her with a glare. It
was then Jaisyn thought to continue
her explanation before they refused to
listen to reason.
“Yes—in
marriage—but
after
speaking to the High Priestess, I
withdrew the offer. I’m sure that
Tarbin received the message and will
send another message soon,” she said
quickly, sensing Vulcan was going to
interrupt again.
She wasn’t wrong.
Vulcan let out another stream of
curses before he advanced on her,
looking every inch the angry king that
he was. Since that day in the solar,
Vulcan hadn’t attempted to repeat his
actions. In fact, he’d been so busy
establishing himself as ruler to her
people that he’d hardly acknowledged
her. Now Jaisyn felt as she had when
he’d cornered her in the solar. Only
this time, she had no sword.
“Varian, OUT!” Vulcan roared and
although Jaisyn passed him her best
‘don’t leave’ glare, he shook his head
and hastily made his way to the door.
The expression on his face told her
that whatever happened with Vulcan,
she deserved it.
He kept advancing but this time,
Jaisyn held her ground. Vulcan was
much bigger and outweighed her at
least two to one with all the solid
muscle covering his frame, but she
wasn’t going to let him see how much
he terrified her. He came to a halt
directly before her, and leaned down
so close that she could feel his breath
fan her face. She realized her eyes
had closed; she peeled them open
quickly. His eyes were merely inches
from her own, and although it was a
bad time to recognize it, she noticed
that those eyes, which she’d always
thought were as black as she imagined
his heart, were actually a very dark
shade of grey.
“You offered my kingdom to a
prince of Mitherie and you offered
yourself as his means of getting it!”
Vulcan’s voice was low and harsh,
and he was so close to her that even if
he whispered, she’d be able to hear.
“Like a common whore, you would
barter away my kingdom! No,
Princess
—DO NOT SPEAK!”
Jaisyn glared at him as she seethed.
He would not compare her to a
common whore. She was a chaste
princess whose first kiss had been
stolen by this—this monster! The urge
to fight rose within her.
“I am no whore!” she hissed angrily.
His jaw clenched tightly as she
openly defied him, but instead of
reaching out and striking her, as she
half expected him to, he simply
continued.
“Mitherie
will
never
control Lytheria.”
He took a step back from her, and
she noticed that his eyes had flashed
from fire to ice. Wet stone. That was
what his eyes reminded her of.
“Find the High Priestess and prepare
Mathilda,” he began in a voice that
sent chills shooting through her body.
“No Mitherie prince will challenge my
right to Lytheria with one of its
princesses as my bride.”
Before Jaisyn could put up an
argument, he stormed away. Shaken
to her core, a lone leaf battered by the
course
of
a
whirlwind,
Jaisyn
remained standing as she was for a
few minutes before she forced her
body into action.
As she ran into the hall, Jaisyn
looked around wildly. Where was he?
She saw Vulcan’s towering body
briefly amongst the servants and
soldiers in the castle before he
disappeared from her sight as he
headed up the staircase. No doubt he
was off to the solar. Or were his long
strides taking him to Mathilda’s
chambers?
Feeling her legs move, Jaisyn raced
after him, trying to come up with
reasons why he couldn’t marry
Mathilda. She was too young. She
was sickly. She was given to bouts of
anger. She was childish and churlish
and at times selfish. She was—she
was
Matty!
When she reached the bottom step,
she spotted him at the top of the
staircase that led to the solar. She
quickly moved up the stairs behind
him. She paused before his door and
tried to think up a good argument.
Deciding she didn’t have the time to
do so, Jaisyn knocked rapidly and
pushed the door open.
***
To say that Vulcan was in a foul
mood was an understatement. He
could no longer return to Morden as
soon as he’d planned because of a
troublesome princess by the name of
Jaisyn St. Ives. In addition to that, he
could no longer return to Morden a
free man, because that very same
princess had made it necessary, once
more, for him to marry Mathilda the
Timid.
After
Jaisyn’s
costly
resistance, Vulcan had had no
intention of marrying any of the
princesses. He’d given his word of
protection to Wilhelm, and that could
be carried out with them as his wards.
Of course, he did not have to marry
anyone, but because Lytheria was
newly acquired and Jaisyn always
scheming, he was going to make sure
he secured his rule in two different
ways: he’d won Lytheria in battle and
he’d married into the St. Ives family.
It really should not have been this
complicated, but for—
There was a rapid knock at his door
moments before it pushed open.
Knowing most of his people knew
better than to walk in without being
invited, Vulcan reached for his sword
and turned to face the intruder.
He should have known it was her.
Somewhere deep in his mind, he had.
***
Jaisyn stared at the pointed tip of the
sword for a few moments before she
pushed the door in, careful not to
close it, and waited for him to put the
weapon away.
“What business do you have here?”
Vulcan demanded, the sword still
leveled in her direction.
“Sheath your sword and I will tell
you.”
Reluctantly, he angled his sword so
it no longer pointed to her, and
quirked an angry brow.
“You cannot marry Mathilda,”
Jaisyn began, only to have him release
an incredulous snort. She ignored it