“Yes. They slash slightly upward in a very manly fashion. With your narrowed and piercing eyes, which sometimes seem to see miles ahead of the others, and the slashing eyebrows, you can appear quite demonic. I imagine the Angel of Death himself has such eyes. And yet, I also see that you are kind and brave and much like an angel of another sort entirely.”
Her observations made his stomach clench. “I thought you wanted to speak about my heart and soul, not my eyebrows. ”
“I am simply taking my time, my prince. Does it bother you that I study you so?”
“No.” What a lie that was. She had his heart beating too hard and too fast, simply with a glance, simply because she was too near.
“You have buried a part of yourself for so long, and you think you have won this very personal battle,” she said. “You think that darkness is buried. But of late it does not always rest as you wish it to, Prince Alixandyr. Of late it awakens while you sleep and it rules. It lives. If you wish to be done with the darkness once and for all, you must first allow it to live, to breathe, to be your own. Only then can it be truly controlled.” She moved closer, rising to her knees and leaning over him so that her body almost touched his. He could feel the heat rolling off her body, and he wanted to reach out and grab her so badly that he had to clench his hands into tight fists to keep from grabbing her. Even this close, the blue of her skin was flawless and smooth. He wanted to rake his fingers across the forbidden flesh, he wanted to taste the blue. He wanted to pull her body against his.
“I am not supposed to have desires of my own,” she whispered, as if she were afraid someone might hear, “but on occasion I do. Right now I wish you were the one who possessed me, who owned me body and soul, who took pleasure within me,” she said, so casually it was as if she were asking for a sip of water or a slice of bread. “If we were joined, I could see more of you, I could know the darkness you battle in a more complete way.” She licked her lips and tilted her head, and her hair swung forward and brushed against him. “I would also know all that you most desire.”
In spite of the earlier, less pleasurable subject of their conversation, Alix was hard. Perhaps it would be worth death to lie with such a woman. Perhaps it would be a fair trade—her body against his for the blade of her keepers’ swords. His breath did not come easily, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His mouth was dry, his hands trembled, and in his mind he could see the two of them together, their bodies bare and joined and screaming. He felt, almost as if it were real. He saw her blue body and his ordinary flesh meeting and joining, felt the heat and the pleasure she promised.
She was a sorceress, that was the only explanation.
“The darkness is a part of you, Prince Alixandyr,” Sanura whispered. “It cannot, will not, remain buried forever. Claim the shadows and control them, or they will win the battle for your soul and the man you have become will be no more. The man you have become will be buried, struggling to rise to the surface as the darkness now struggles.”
“I won’t allow it,” he insisted hoarsely, as Sanura moved impossibly closer. She was all but straddling him, and though her skin did not touch his, the loose golden skirt she wore brushed against him.
“Perhaps if your brother does not wish to keep me for himself, he will give me to you, as the king gave me to him.” She licked her lips. “In the world I left behind, men do not so easily toss away a treasure such as a woman of the Agnese. All my life I have been told that I am precious and special, that all men will want me for their own. It is disconcerting to be unwanted. Untouched. If I were your gift, would you give me away?”
“No,” he whispered. “I could not.”
She smiled a slightly crooked, almost sad smile. “That is good.”
He knew the blue before him was a powder, but it was so perfectly applied that it looked as if her skin were actually that sapphire shade. Was the cosmetic applied to the swell of her breasts, which he could not see beneath the low-cut gold blouse she wore? Were the nipples blue, or did they blush a soft pink against the unnatural color, the way her tongue blushed between the parted dark lips? Were the most private parts of her body covered in that powder? He wished very much to know, to see, even to touch.
Sanura pulled away, slowly but decisively. “I can see no more,” she said as she resumed her seat a safe distance away. A moment later she rose to her feet, moving more quickly than usual, and turned from him. Without another word she walked away, leaving Alix to the solitude he so needed.
SANURA
walked away from the prince without a glance back. No one would know, by looking at her face, that the man by the stream left her confused and unsure, and somehow heartbroken.
Her heart never came into consideration. She was of the Agnese, a gift to be owned, a treasure whose concerns were never for herself but were only for the man to whom she belonged. At the moment she did not even know the man to whom she belonged. Was the emperor kind or brutish? Would he care for her and be glad he had received her, or would he dismiss her with barely a thought? Would he be thankful for her, or would he toss her away? This part of the world was strange. Men did not always behave as they should, and at times like these she wished only to go home.
Home, where she was wanted. Home, where the sun always shone and men and women bowed to her when she passed. Home.
She had never before questioned the way of her life. She’d never wondered why she could not be like other women and choose her own lovers. Prince Alixandyr made her wonder. His complicated nature intrigued her, but she would notice him as a fine specimen of a man even if he were like all others. He had the body of a soldier, fit and strong and kissed by the sun. His visage was not pretty; it was not even and soft enough to be called pretty. Instead, his face was masculine and handsome, with calculating eyes, a blade of a nose, and a mouth that was wide and hard and interesting. The line of his jaw was as bladelike as his nose, and she had been so tempted to touch him there— even knowing that such a touch would mark him for death. His black hair was almost as long as her own. Instead of being straight it waved wildly, even though he had most of it restrained behind his head with a silver clip. She had very much wanted to run her fingers through the wild and curling strands.
Sanura tossed her head and tried to shake off her interest in the prince just as she shook off the foolish notion that what she wanted mattered in any way. She would do well to stay away from one who battled with darkness, no matter how he intrigued her.
As she crossed the camp to the tent Paki and Kontar had erected for her, she decided to maintain a distance from Prince Alixandyr for the remainder of their journey. Princess Edlyn was a difficult companion, but perhaps it would be better to deal with the disdain of a simple woman than to be washed in the complexities of a man who made her wonder about things she should not.
She had been too long alone, that was the reason for her confusion. If Zeryn were still alive, if his blasted brother had not given her to the King of Tryfyn as a gesture of goodwill, then she would not be faced with such a dilemma. After her period of training, Zeryn had purchased her. She’d been pleased, as he was kind and handsome and a good provider. They’d had four years together, and she’d expected that she’d spend her entire life as his, treasured and pampered and devoted to him who possessed her. Life had other plans for her, it seemed, as Zeryn had died much too soon and his brother had decided she’d make a nice diplomatic gift for a leader of the new world which had so recently been discovered.
The women of the Agnese were not meant to live alone. They were not meant to forever sleep alone, to pass the nights in solitude in a too-quiet room or a too-small tent.
They were not meant to hunger for that which was, by right, theirs. Warmth, pleasure, companionship, they were all meant to be hers. Instead, she passed each day and night with no one but her keepers and two surly maids for company. No one treasured her. No one wanted her.
Her eyes were drawn to the sentinel who hid such hostility beneath a constant smile and easy banter. Even from a distance, she saw who he truly was. She felt it, was assaulted by it. She wanted to believe that Prince Alixandyr was right and the man was merely a soldier whose life was touched with violence, but in the pit of her soul she knew better.
Vyrn caught her looking at him, and in a shy manner that was unlike her, Sanura turned away when their eyes met. Deep down, she shuddered. She’d do well to steer clear of that one. She did not sense that his hatred was aimed toward her, but she could not be certain. Her gift was not one of absolutes, but was based on emotion and spirit and possibilities.
The prince was not far behind her, and Sanura wondered if anyone in the camp wondered that they had come from the same direction, not so long apart. They would know that he had not touched her. The blue was easily transferred from skin to skin, even though it was not at all easy to wash away. If he had touched her, everyone who saw him would know.
And as far as they were concerned, there was no reason for the prince to have anything to do with her if he could not touch her.
Sanura watched as the sentinel who concerned her walked to his prince and said a few words. She wondered if the prince would betray her confidence and tell his soldier what she suspected. What she knew. Their conversation was short, and the sentinel did not seem alarmed. Sanura soon breathed easier.
Beyond Prince Alixandyr, one crimson and one dull green flag, each dutifully planted upon their arrival at this campground, whipped in the wind. The prince’s long hair was caught in the breeze, too, as was the traveling cape which fell to his thighs. He would not tell, she knew it.
No, the part of him she knew would not tell. She had no idea what the darker side of his soul would do.
“Your evening meal will soon be ready.” The cool voice came from behind her, and Sanura slowly turned to face one of her young and reluctant Tryfynian maids. Tari was plain of face and too thin, but she did have very nice red hair which was usually caught in a too-tight bun. She didn’t like her duties any more than the other maid, a prettier brown-haired girl called Phyls.
Whenever she was close to them, she felt their disdain, their dislike, and even their disgust.
“I will take the meal in my tent tonight,” Sanura said, being careful not to give away her sadness as she looked toward the stream she had left behind. “The wind is picking up.”
Tari curtseyed sharply and then turned away.
At home, young girls vied for the position of maid to a woman of the Agnese. It was an honor to serve one so blessed, not a bitter trial. At home, at home, at home. Sanura bit back the bitter realization that she would never see home again. She was destined to live in a world where no one wanted her.
As Tari walked away, Sanura glanced back at the prince. He wanted her, in an entirely male way. There were others who felt a basic urge to touch her, but they were also afraid and uncertain. Prince Alixandyr was neither.
Her heart sank. It didn’t matter that he wanted her. He was too noble to take a woman meant for his brother and emperor, too upright to break the rules—whether they were his rules or another’s. The part of him she could see and understand would never take a gift which was meant to be his brother’s.
The dark side of him, the shadowy part of himself that he denied and fought, was too protected, too mysterious for her to be sure what might happen if it were in control.
She had a sudden and unpleasant feeling that she might find out before they reached their destination.
AFTER
their traveling party stopped for the evening and Verity had taken the time to give her mare, Buttercup, the care and attention she deserved after a long day’s ride, she caught Laris’s eye and nodded. A few moments later she casually made her way around the bend so the campsite was no longer in her view—and she could no longer be seen from there. Their group was small and no one paid her much mind, which was just as well.
Verity found a rocky hollow and leaned against the wall of stone, taking a moment to straighten her mussed hair and smooth her wrinkled blue traveling skirt. Before she had time to do more than briefly admire the quickly setting sun, Laris joined her. She found herself smiling at him more widely than she’d planned. He did not smile often and did not smile now, but instead simply looked at her with pained eyes and thinned lips.
“Are you well?” he asked, concern evident in his deep, smooth voice.
“My backside is sore,” she said honestly. “Though I am accustomed to riding, I have never spent so many hours in the saddle.” There were too many hills and narrow paths in this part of the world to accommodate a proper coach, not that she would’ve hidden in one all day even if it were possible.
“I’m so sorry,” Laris said with heartfelt emotion. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He blushed, as he did on occasion. Perhaps he wondered if she’d ask him to massage the abused area, and that’s why he blushed.
Verity felt an unexpected heat in her own cheeks. “There’s nothing to be done, of course. I should not have complained.”
“I only want your comfort and happiness, Lady Verity. I will do all that I can for you.” The way he looked at her, as the light faded, cut to her heart in an unexpected way.
She’d had to test the love potion on someone, and Laris had been the logical choice. The handsome sentinel, one of the three who had accompanied the fat, grumpy diplomat who’d fetched her, was one year older than she was and relatively new to his position. He was a handsome young man, with hair fair like hers and remarkable brown eyes. To be honest, he was the only acceptable candidate in their party. If she was going to have a devoted and adoring man constantly at her side, then he might as well be young and easy to look at.
