gallantly,
and
approached Jaisyn. From the side of
her eye, she saw Vulcan tense, and
the guards who stood at both their
sides, seemed to tense as well.
When he was no more than a few
feet away for her, he bowed again.
“Your Majesty is more beautiful
than even the cresting waterfalls of my
kingdom,” he praised softly, flashing a
deep, dimpled smile.
Jaisyn found herself returning the
smile, even as her husband scowled
viciously.
“You are kind, Bael of Montak,”
she
returned
comfortably.
With
another bow, he moved past her, but
not before he caught sight of Vulcan’s
angry scowl. He smiled at his king
then.
And so the evening continued, with
Jaisyn wondering when, and if, the
musicians hired for the night would
play some lively tunes. After hours of
sitting and smiling and doing naught
else, the musicians were notified it
was their time to play and Jaisyn
resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of
relief.
Vulcan stood and moved to stand
before his wife. He had been dressed
fitting the occasion, in a black and red
tight-fitting jacket that hugged his
thickly corded arms, a pristine white
cravat that had been intricately tied,
and black breeches, with two parallel
red lines running down either side,
that fell to his knees. On his feet were
shiny, black leather shoes in place of
his usual weathered boots. He offered
Jaisyn his hand. His eyes seemed
belligerent as he stared down at her.
She almost smiled. Did he think she
would refuse to dance with him now?
She placed her hand in his and he
led her to the middle of the ballroom.
The musicians opened with a waltz,
for the married couples, and after the
first few minutes, once Vulcan gave a
nod, they were joined on the floor by
most of their guests.
“Did you find Bael handsome?”
Vulcan suddenly asked, and Jaisyn
barely caught herself before she
tripped over her feet and stumbled.
She stared up at her husband in
confusion. “He is very handsome,
liege.” She was not lying. Bael was
nowhere near as handsome as
husband in her eyes but he was
beautifully formed, with dark brown
hair and roguishly good looks, and
there was a devilish twinkle in leaf-
colored eyes that would capture the
attention of both the wed and unwed
females in the vicinity.
“Is that so?” Vulcan returned, and
she noticed that his voice had dropped
dangerously.
Jaisyn nodded, and lowered her
head slightly to hide a satisfied smile.
He took a mistress right under her
nose and was now jealous because
she found another man attractive?
“Do you think him more handsome
than Varian?” The question threw her
so badly that all she could do was
continue to stare at him in confusion.
A lethal smile suddenly touched his
lips as he spun her. “Do you, wife?”
Licking her lips and wondering at
the
question,
Jaisyn
answered
truthfully, “No, I find your brother
more attractive.”
He nodded as if he too had thought
so and his eyes panned the room.
“But he is close in terms of appeal?”
Jaisyn nodded. Vulcan’s questions
were very odd. “Why do you ask,
liege?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw and he
hissed, “Must you call me ‘liege’?
Have I not given you permission to
call me by name?”
“Yes, liege, but I do not wish to call
your name.” This was said with a
bright smile, which only served to
infuriate her husband more. The waltz
came to an end and they pulled apart
and clapped softly before he returned
her to her seat, and sat beside her.
She’d been told by Lady Mor’an that
she was only allowed to dance the
first and last dance. Another rule of
this court. She did not know if she
could do this
Season
more than one
time.
“Will you tell me why you are so
interested in how attractive I find the
King of Montak?” she asked softly.
Vulcan did not spare her a glance.
“No.”
Jaisyn bristled but she continued to
smile, even when Lady Calista,
dressed in that stunning lavender
gown, approached them, trailing
behind Lady Mor’an, who was
outfitted in her usual black, and wore
accompanying black pearls at her
neck.
They both curtsied before Lady
Mor’an stepped close to Jaisyn and
began to speak with her about how
wonderful it had turned out. She
watched at the side of her eye and
saw that Lady Calista had stepped
forward too. She heard her husband
compliment Calista on her dress and
Jaisyn felt her patience snap. How
dare he? Had he no type of respect
for her, the woman who would soon
bear his child?
She turned to Lady Calista, glaring
—for what she was doing could not
be called staring—at the young
woman. “Ah, Lady Calista. The dress
does fit her quite well, does it not, my
liege?” As she’d expected, Vulcan did
not answer, so she continued. “Have
you found a charming suitor in this
crowd as yet?”
Calista’s smile froze but then as she
looked at Jaisyn, her lips widened
again.
She shook her head of flowing black
curls, executed a graceful curtsy, and
replied, “Not as yet, Your Majesty.”
“I am sure that it is not for lack of
options. Perhaps you are saving your
affection for someone in particular?”
Lady Calista’s eyes unconsciously
drifted to Vulcan, who was staring at
Jaisyn
in
something
akin
to
fascination. Jaisyn’s eyes never left
Calista and she saw the look of
longing in the girl’s eyes. Her temper
flared even more but before she could
say something that would lead to
Calista’s banishment from court, Lady
Mor’an cleared her throat, and spoke
in a tone meant to put everyone at
ease.
“I do believe, Your Majesty, that
Lady Calista is trying to capture the
heart
of
every
unwed
man here
tonight. Is that not so, my dear?”
Calista nodded in agreement. Her
smile had disappeared completely and
she was now staring wide-eyed at
Jaisyn. Lady Mor’an took a few steps
back. Her eyes remained on Jaisyn,
whose eyes never left Calista, and she
curtsied. Calista followed suit and did
the same before they both turned and
retreated hastily.
Jaisyn’s gaze followed Calista until
she could see her no more. She
blinked, passed a quick glance at her
husband, and went back to smiling at
her guests.
Moments passed in silence before
Vulcan spoke. “You are jealous,
wife.”
She did not reply because she could
not say what she wished. She was
jealous and angry. Her husband had
just practically flaunted his mistress by
acknowledging
her
with
that
compliment.
“You have no right to be jealous
when it is you who suggested that I
take the lady to my bed.” He had
leaned closer to her. Jaisyn didn’t
reply, but splotches of angry red
stained her cheeks. The smile was all
but forgotten. He was admitting to it.
He was telling her he’d taken her as a
m is t r e s s .
Calista
.
She’d
always
maintained there was a slight chance
he hadn’t, but she was now certain.
She’d been right. Jaisyn did not know
how long she churned that over in her
mind but suddenly, it grew quiet and
Vulcan stood.
He beckoned her sisters over, as
they’d known he would, and they
came obediently. Jaisyn remained
seated. When the princesses were at
the appropriate place, the page said
loudly, “Princess Isolde and Princess
Mathilda St. Ives, wards to the High
King of the North, and sisters to the
Queen Jaisyn of Morden.”
They both curtsied and approached
Vulcan and Jaisyn. Isolde stood
before Jaisyn and smiled at her sister,
and made no move to look at Vulcan.
Jaisyn felt a smile tug at her lips.
“My
wards,”
Vulcan’s
voice
boomed. “Princess Mathilda St. Ives.”
He gestured to Mathilda, who kept
her head lowered. “Princess Isolde
St.Ives.” He gestured to Isolde, who
glared at him, before reluctantly
lowering her head. “Treat them as
you would me. Any praise you give
them, you give me. Any insult heaped
upon their persons will be taken as
insult to me. Any attack will be a
direct attack to me. From now until
their deaths, these princesses are
under my protection.”
Vulcan sat and her sisters moved
away. The music began once more.
***
Bael surveyed the lot of Morden
nobility in the ballroom and checked
the urge to scowl. He reminded
himself that he was only in Morden
because he’d received an order to
come, compliments of the power-
hungry king who sat next to the
astonishingly beautiful queen. He did
not like that Montak was controlled by
Vulcan, and if he had the armies, he
would have fought the king for the
right to secede years ago. But alas, his
father had depleted the grand wealth
that Montak had once had, and by the
time he’d inherited, after his father
died fighting against Morden, he’d had
no choice but to bow down in
submission. And so, years later, here
he was. At the beck and call of the
dark-haired,
grey-eyed
warrior,
dubbed most fittingly the Wolf.
He looked around the room again,
deciding that if he had to spend
another minute here, he’d find some
company of the female variety. And
hopefully, the company would be
married or widowed. He was not fit to
deal
with
simpering
innocents.
Especially
simpering
Morden
innocents, who would no doubt try to
force his hand. He was searching out
a woman who would provide the type
of company he required when his
eyes caught sight of a brilliant shade
of red. Short, red curls? That caught
his attention for two different reasons:
most
women
in
the
Northern
kingdoms wore their hair long, far
past the middle of their backs, and
most Northern women did not have
that coloring. Three women and a gale
of aristocrats, who were all laughing
at something she’d said, surrounded
her. A lady, a chestnut beauty,
suddenly passed before him, smiling
boldly. She would do…but his eyes
went back to the redhead.
Bael found himself heading in her
direction. With an arrogance shown
only by one sure of his station, he
moved through the throng of men and
approached her. Her laugh stopped
and she smiled curiously at him.
“I am Bael of Montak.” He took her
hand and bowed over it, not caring
that his introduction was in no way
formal. She stared at him at a loss
before withdrawing her hand, and
lowering her body into a curtsy.
“Princess Isolde of Lytheria.” She
indicated the shorter woman next to
her, whom she introduced as Princess
Mathilda of Lytheria, and the other
ladies, Lady Jane and Lady Anne.
But Bael wasn’t really listening. The
princesses of Lytheria were wards of
Vulcan Mor’an. He looked toward the
dais and found the king staring in his
direction. A thought entered his mind,