Lytheria and many more would die,
and Ishat had foreseen chaos if
Mitherie became involved. But if she
said ‘thank you’, Tarbin would
assume that she was happy with this
arrangement, even if she wasn’t.
She’d forced herself to marry Vulcan
to save her sister. Even if she didn’t
like it, she’d done it, and it was legal
and binding.
She smiled at the messenger.
“Please thank your prince for me. Tell
him that I am deeply touched by
concern but that I am quite satisfied
with my situation.”
The messengers bowed to her once
more before they turned to Vulcan,
bowed and were gone. Varian
followed them out. Vulcan’s eyes
remained on his wife. Jaisyn returned
his stare evenly, waiting for him to ask
the question that was plaguing his
mind.
“Are you not going to disclose to
your husband what the prince said in
his letter?” Vulcan’s voice was soft
and deadly.
Jaisyn moved closer to him. “It was
a private letter, my lord. Tarbin
wished me well, and wished to know
if I was happy.”
Vulcan’s brow lifted. “I do not
believe you, Jaisyn.”
She shrugged her shoulders and
tossed a braid that had fallen against
her breast to her back. “Be that as it
may, but I am telling the truth.”
Her husband stood and quickly
made his way to her. Jaisyn flinched
at the rage she glimpsed in his eyes. “I
want the truth, Jaisyn!”
“I have given you the truth. Tarbin
asked after my health, and wished me
well,” Jaisyn stated. She wasn’t going
to repeat everything in the letter. Her
husband could be quite unpredictable
at times. Like now, as he approached
her.
Jaisyn stood her ground. He was
used to intimidating people. She
wouldn’t let him intimidate her.
“I have told you what you wished to
know—”
His hand reached out and his vise-
like fingers closed over her arm,
dragging her flush up against his body.
Jaisyn let out a squeal before her fists
struck out to beat and claw at him.
“Stop it, Vulcan,” she managed to
get out even as she was crushed
against him. “You are hurting me!”
His grip on her arm relaxed but he
didn’t release her. Instead, he leaned
his head down so that his breath
fanned her ear. “Do you think me
stupid? Do you think I do not know
that
whatever
you’ve
told
the
messenger was code for something?
Have you offered yourself to the
Prince of Mitherie once more, even
though you are a married woman?
Does your Goddess not speak against
adultery? Have you given him
permission to rally his armies against
me? What have you done, treacherous
witch?”
Jaisyn struggled in his arms but his
grip only tightened, and finally she
stilled, her harsh breathing the only
noise coming from the study.
“I have done nothing!” she insisted,
pushing against the rock-hard expanse
of his chest under the soft cotton tunic
that he wore. Feeling her strength give
against the ruthlessness of his, she
allowed her hands to rest against his
tunic, trying to keep herself balanced.
“For your sake, Jaisyn, I hope that is
true,” Vulcan warned angrily. He
released her arm, causing her to
stagger slightly before she caught
herself.
When she recovered, she threw him
a disgusted glare. “Bastard!” she spat.
“Does that make you feel more of a
king, to manhandle me that way?”
Vulcan, by now accustomed to the
outbursts of his queen, ignored her
and walked back to the chair. He took
a seat, and stared down at her.
Crossing her arms over her chest,
Jaisyn snarled, “If you ever do that
again, I will cleave your head from
body and feed it to the—”
“Jaisyn,” he warned softly, but
through his teeth. “Leave now before I
give in to the temptation to throttle
you.”
Jaisyn’s teeth snapped together in
outrage as she glared at him. She
should have given Tarbin permission
to rally his troops just to be able to
watch Tarbin hack Vulcan to bits!
Bastard.
Without another word, she spun
around and headed from the room.
She was on her way to the solar when
Mathilda ran up to her, wrapping her
arms around her elder sister as she
beamed brightly. Jaisyn relaxed.
“Jassy,” Mathilda said happily and
Jaisyn forced a smile for her. Mathilda
looked the part of the Flower of the
East, dressed as she was in a beautiful
pink and green day dress, with her
lustrous hair pinned nicely atop her
head and a small but fashionable hat
adorned atop that.
“A bard has written another poem in
my honor,” she declared happily and
a genuine smile lit Jaisyn’s features.
“Which bard was it this time and
what is it called?” she asked her sister.
“Dunstan Kippel from Broming has
written a poem called ‘Look to the
Flower, She Dwells in the East.’
Apparently, he has performed it
everywhere but only today did he
send me a personal copy. And it is
beautiful, Jassy.” Mathilda sounded so
happy that Jaisyn couldn’t help but
laugh at the younger sister she would
give anything to protect. Her smile
faltered when she thought
I already
did
.
“Have you told this to Isolde?”
Jaisyn asked her sister. Mathilda
pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.
“No, she would only laugh at every
line and try to discredit it.”
Inwardly, Jaisyn chuckled. Mathilda
was right, of course. Isolde was not
the type of person to listen to poetry
and think it beautiful unless it were
accurate. She would have read every
line and compared it to the real
Mathilda before easily denouncing the
poem. This was not something that
she did out of cruelty, but rather
nature.
“I’m going to the city,” Mathilda
said, making to move past her sister.
Jaisyn
halted
her.
“Who
is
accompanying you, Matty?”
“Angie and Sarah and a few
soldiers,”
Mathilda
immediately
supplied, smiling at her sister’s
concern. Angie and Sarah were two
siblings from the city. Their parents
were merchants, very rich merchants,
who had built a good relationship with
Wilhelm during his lifetime and as
such,
Angie
and
Sarah
were
welcomed heartily to court.
“What
about
Isolde?”
Jaisyn
inquired, wondering why her sister
was not going out on this excursion.
Now that she really thought of it, she
hadn’t been seeing much of Isolde
lately. Except for mealtimes, during
which Isolde was usually quieter than
usual, Jaisyn hardly ever saw her
sister.
“I can hardly find her anywhere
lately,” Mathilda admitted. Something
behind Jaisyn caught her attention and
she giggled. She gave Jaisyn a quick
hug before bolting for the doors,
where one of her friends was calling
to her.
Unease crept over Jaisyn as she
thought of Mathilda’s words. Was her
sister feeling well? Deciding she had
neglected her sister enough, Jaisyn
went in search of her.
Chapter 8
Vulcan was very pleased, more
pleased than he let on, to know that
his wife had not asked the prince of
Mitherie to gather his armies. While
the Mitherie messengers slept for the
night, Varian had one of the servant
boys slip into their sleeping chambers,
and switch their satchels. He would
have done it himself, but it would have
been difficult to explain his reason for
being there should a draft wake one of
them.
The
boy,
whose
body
practically hummed in anticipation,
had waited as Varian read the missive.
Before the messengers left for
Mitherie, the boy switched the bags
once more.
Now that Vulcan knew Mitherie
wouldn’t pose a threat to his rule, he
was planning for his return to Morden.
He’d been away from Morden for
over a month, much longer than he
had originally anticipated, and was
eager to return home. The Lytherian
heat was slowly getting to him. For
those accustomed to it, it was bliss,
but
for
a
Northern
warrior,
accustomed to the cold and snow, it
was quite tedious. Sweating all the
time, numerous baths… it seemed
almost ridiculous.
He heard the telltale creak of the
door to the study being opened and
looked up from the letters upon his
desk to the tall figure of his brother.
Varian offered him a small smile and
remained standing before the desk.
“You sent for me, Vulcan?” Varian
asked calmly and although he smiled
and looked his usual carefree self,
Vulcan had the feeling that something
was off with his brother. He’d seen
Varian, who was known for his
genteel
behavior,
his
easy-going
nature, launch into a brutal attack on
one of the warriors during training.
He’d seen him snap, snarl and
basically
take
on
Vulcan’s
temperament over the past days. The
Morden warriors, accustomed to the
temper of their king, did not flinch or
even bat an eyelid when Varian’s
temperament
changed,
but
the
Lytherians were visibly agitated at
having not one but two unpredictable
leaders.
“Is something amiss, brother?”
Vulcan asked evenly, staring directly
into his brother’s pale eyes.
Varian dipped his head. “Not that I
am aware, brother.”
Repressing a sigh, Vulcan shook his
head. Varian didn’t disclose personal
information unless he wanted to. He
decided to address a very important
issue with his brother. When he’d said
his part, Varian protested slightly, but
Vulcan was his brother and king, and
so in the end, he had no choice but to
submit.
***
Vulcan sat at the head of the table in
the Great Hall with his brother and the
highest ranked of the Lytherian
generals and lieutenants around him.
“Every man around this table has
sworn fealty to me, on pain of death
or worse,” Vulcan began slowly, his
gaze touching that of each man at the
table. “I will be returning to Morden
soon. Your loyalties will be tested. In
my stead, I am leaving my brother to
perform the duties of the ruler of
Lytheria.”
Some of the Lytherian generals
shifted
uneasily
but
made
no
objections. “Does anyone object to
Varian acting in my stead?”
No one answered and Vulcan
waited for a minute before continuing.
“I am pleased to see that you will
obey my brother as you would me.
Any attack upon my brother, be it
physical or verbal, is a direct affront to
my rule, and I will return it tenfold.”
Silence.
“It is your responsibility, as generals
and lieutenants, to rally your soldiers
behind my brother. Serve me well and
you will be rewarded. Betray me and
face my wrath. It is your choice. I
hope you will make the right one.”
Vulcan stopped and looked around
the table once more. The men were
silent but none looked visibly upset.
Varian cleared his throat and asked,
“Will any of you challenge my right to
rule, Lytheria?”
One by one the generals and
lieutenants swore, by the grace of