Chapter 5 #2
Marshall was the friar who’d looked after our religious health for over forty years now and was basically part of our family.
“Marshall does not have the final say on such matters, I’m afraid. It would have to go before the church’s tribunal for consideration.” He paused and took a long drink. “That said, you also cannot go to Zephrine. You’d be too vulnerable there, even with the protection of your flames.”
“I’m aware of that, but what choice do I have?”
“I’ll talk to Aric. It wouldn’t, after all, be the first royal marriage to exist in name only, and it probably won’t be the last. Besides, last I heard, Tayte had at least one son; the Velez line is secure without input from you.”
“Aric isn’t worried about securing Zephrine’s throne.”
“Well, he’s not having this one.”
A sharp knock at the door had us both jumping and reaching for swords, even though he didn’t have one.
“Who is it?” we said in unison.
“I have the scribe tablet you ordered, Commander.”
“I’ll grab it.”
I pushed up, limped over to the door despite being told only a few minutes ago to stop unnecessary movement, and grabbed the tablet, thanking the soldier who’d brought it up from the war room.
He saluted and turned away, stepping to one side halfway down the hall to give the two servants carrying the food I’d ordered for Garran room to pass.
I motioned them inside. They deposited the tray and the shamoke on the table, then the woman curtseyed and said, “Will there be anything else, my lady?”
“No, thank you, Alice.”
She nodded, and the two of them immediately left.
I handed Garran the tablet. “Say hello to Hanna for me, and don’t forget to eat. Oh, and bathe. Please bathe.”
He laughed. “Be gone, bossy britches. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
I laughed, drained my wine, then walked away. But as I reached the door, he added softly, “Bryn?”
I stopped and looked around, my eyebrows raised in query.
“I’ll not touch anything. Not until you’re ready.”
A sob rose. I pressed a hand against my mouth to prevent its escape, then nodded and left, all but running for my room and leg be damned.
“Queen Bryn?” Lenny said, his expression concerned. “Is everything all right?”
I gulped and nodded. “I just had to go into my parents’ quarters and, well...”
“Ah,” he said. “I’m sorry again, Queen Bryn.”
I touched his arm in appreciation and forced a smile. “I’m back to plain old Lady Bryn now that Garran has returned to take his rightful place.”
“He’s alive? That is good news.”
“It is indeed.”
He opened the door for me. “Your meal and shamoke arrived only a few seconds ago.”
“Thanks.”
I entered my room, waited until the door was closed, then stripped off my weapons and coat, hanging everything up before walking over to the table to pour myself a mug of shamoke.
I took a long, deep breath, sighed in contentment, then took a drink.
Almost immediately, my face went into a puckering sort of spasm.
Vahree only knew shamoke could be bitter, but this was ten times worse than usual.
I doubted even spoonfuls of sweetener could save it.
I took a sniff... The smell was definitely off.
It was unusual for it not to be caught in the kitchen—Candra was a stickler when it came to the quality of the food and beverages that came out of her kitchen....
It was at that point I remembered Aric’s threat.
He wouldn’t, would he? Not so soon after Garran’s arrival.
.. and yet, was it not also the perfect time?
Things remained in a state of disarray, and our new king had yet to fully assert his authority or even be announced to the populace in general.
But the one thing Aric—or rather, his heir—needed to ensure before he could make any move was the legality of my marriage in the eyes of the church, and that required consummation.
.. Which would, I guessed he was hoping, lead to pregnancy.
Too bad for him that I, like most soldiers, male or female, was taking herbs to prevent that happening until we wished it.
I hastily put the mug down, hobbled over to the rarely used scribe tablet connected to my parents’ room, and hastily sent Garran a message. The cursor blinked for a couple of seconds before he responded, Mine smells normal, but I will order a fresh pot, just to be safe.
I’ll head down and talk to Candra , I replied, and did so immediately. She was horrified to learn I’d received anything that was off, let alone the possibility that it might have been deliberately fouled, and promised to be extra vigilant.
I thanked her, returned to my room, and ate my way through the stew, cheese, and pastries.
The fresh shamoke arrived just as I’d finished.
After a very careful sniff to ensure it hadn’t been tampered with, I carried the pot and mug over to the bathing area, setting it on the nearby bench while I ran the bath, then stripped off.
It was only then that I noticed Damon’s dome of magic had come to life and was now running with a myriad of jewel-like colors.
I studied it warily, wondering if its activation meant he might be coming back to me, but just as quickly dismissed the thought.
Better not to hope than to have hopes dashed.
After a long soaking, I washed my hair, then got out, dried off, and padded naked over to the weapon hooks to grab my knife.
I hadn’t really been sleeping with it much of late, but tonight instinct was insisting I reinstate the habit.
I wasn’t about to gainsay it. Not after the possible shamoke tampering.
I climbed into bed, tucked the blade under my pillow, and was swiftly asleep.
The softest whisper of sound woke me hours later.
I didn’t immediately open my eyes, though my hand instinctively crept under my pillow and wrapped around the knife hilt.
For several minutes, there was nothing more than the soft hiss of air coming from the underfloor heating vents. Then I heard it again.
A footstep.
Someone was in the room with me.
I was lying on my side, facing the outer wall, meaning my bare back was to the intruder approaching from the bathing side of the room—an oddity, given there was no means of entering the room from that area.
I opened my eyes and was initially met by utter darkness. But as my gaze adjusted, a shadow briefly crossed the bright wash of color still being flung from Damon’s sphere.
That shadow was male, not female.
My fingers clenched around the knife hilt, but I didn’t otherwise react. I had no idea if there was anyone else in the room, and until whoever approached was close enough to grab, it was better they thought me asleep.
The bed platform creaked as the man stepped up onto it. I heard the rustle of garments being shed, the soft thud of boots being removed; knew in that instant I’d been right to replace the damn shamoke.
The fake husband was about to stake his claim on the woman he thought to be unconscious.
He was going to get a very nasty surprise when my knife sliced his balls from his body.
More soft steps. I tensed, ready to react the moment he tried to climb under the blanket with me.
I never got the chance.
“Take one step closer to her,” came a low, angry growl, “and I’ll fucking run this sword right through your cold, black heart.”