The Queen of Mages (32 page)

She bowed, thanked him, and withdrew. Her
head spun as she weaved her way back to Dardan, slipping her arm
through his before he noticed her. His face was flush and he smiled
down at her. “Where did you get off to?”

“Oh, introducing myself to the count,” she
murmured. Dardan stiffened, looking around in a near-panic, and she
laughed. “Calm down, dear boy! We shall meet him in the morning.
It’s all been arranged.”

“But we should speak with him now!” Dardan
said, low and urgent.

“We have other matters to attend to,” she
said, and kissed him again, long and deep.

“You bedevil me,” he murmured when they came
up for air, and suddenly she wanted him very badly. She drained her
cup, then tossed it aside and dragged Dardan toward the inn.

She barely had patience for the innkeep’s
daughter to find them a room—the innkeep himself had gone out to
the dance, it seemed, and the girl pouted that she had to mind the
desk while everyone else got to go have fun. Upstairs they went,
Amira improvidently bestowing the last of her coppers on the girl
in a fit of gratitude. She slammed the door and turned to face her
betrothed.

Dardan stood staring, like a big, dutiful
sheep. She leapt onto him, wrapping her legs around his hips and
clinging to his neck, smothering him with a kiss. He lost his
balance and fell onto the bed, not exactly resisting, but flailing
like a man thrown overboard, struggling against the implacable sea.
Amira rolled off of him and started pulling off her boots.

“We’re not married yet!” he gasped, propping
himself up on an elbow.

“We’re married in all but name.” She flung
her boots onto the floor and slid off her vest. “Should we go find
a steward to say the words? I saw a temple on my way in. I’m sure
the priest would be happy to perform a surprise midnight wedding
for two complete strangers.” She pushed him down and straddled him.
She could feel him hardening beneath his trousers. Amira pulled her
tunic and shift over her head. Her breasts flopped down, feeling
suddenly cool, released from the sweaty garments.

Dardan stared, shocked and spluttering.
“But—we are betrothed, the wedding—we cannot—”

Amira pulled him up so they were face to
face. “I am bound to you,” she declared. “I am pledged in my heart,
with or without a ceremony. Don’t you feel the same?”

“That is lust and drink I hear speaking,” he
insisted weakly.

She kissed him again, and then pulled at his
shirt. Despite his protestations, he obligingly raised his arms
until the shirt slid over his head. She ran her fingers through the
hair on his chest, scratching him lightly with her fingernails, and
he moaned a little.

It was short work removing the rest of their
clothes, and the rest of Dardan’s objections went with them. Back
in Hedenham, Amira and Katin had speculated about Dardan’s bedroom
experience. Katin insisted that he must have been with at least a
few girls—with Liam for a
valo
, how could he not?—but Amira
saw the nervousness in his eyes whenever she came close to him or
touched his hand. She’d be surprised if he’d ever had even one
girl.

Well, his nervousness was gone, but his
inexperience showed. He didn’t know what to do with his hands,
grabbing her breasts too roughly until she pushed them away. “They
aren’t clay,” she scolded him, and stopped her writhing. “You
haven’t done this before, have you?”

He stared up at her. Amira had pinned his
hands up above his head, her face only inches above his, a bead of
sweat hanging from her nose. Dardan shook his head a fraction. “No.
I… almost, once…”

His breath felt hot on her ear when she
nuzzled his neck. “Well I have,” she whispered. “So hold still.”
She reached down between them and grabbed his cock, hard with the
iron of youth, and pressed it up until it slid in.

“By Ardor,” he groaned as she thrust down
onto him slowly, rocking back and forth until the wetness had
spread and he was all the way in. Her back was sore from the day’s
ride, so she bent over until her breasts pressed against him,
sliding back and forth. His hands fell to the side, and despite her
instruction he pushed his pelvis up with each stroke. His timing
was poor, and she finally had to stop and tell him again to hold
still.

As young men do, Dardan came quickly, just
as she was starting to hit her own stride. He emitted a series of
staccato grunts, and his whole body clenched repeatedly until he
was gasping for air. Amira only slowed at this, and when he stopped
she doubled her speed, sliding one hand between them to massage her
little bud.

It took a few minutes of steady effort, and
she nearly lost the thread a time or two when Dardan shifted under
her, but he seemed content to wait. He probably had no idea what
she was doing, the poor boy. Well, he’d just have to be taught. Men
were so bad at understanding what went on down there.

When she finally came, she bit down on his
shoulder to keep from screaming. He grunted at the pain, but to his
credit he didn’t try to shove her away. She slid off him, feeling
the sticky wetness leaking from her, and wiped it away with the
bedsheet. He was still at half-mast, and for a moment she
considered using her hand or mouth on him, but she decided he’d had
enough excitement for one night.

She nestled her head into the crook of his
arm, and as her heart slowed she felt herself growing drowsy. She
felt like they’d either be dead soon or live forever.

Dardan startled her when he spoke. “Will I
be a father now?”

He sounded sweetly nervous, she thought, but
it was a good question. “Maybe,” she whispered. “Sometimes it takes
months to get with child. Sometimes it only takes one try.”

“We must wed now,” Dardan insisted quietly.
“Soon. Tomorrow.”

“Soon,” she promised. “But tomorrow we see
the count.” She drifted off, her cheek pressed against his
shoulder, faint music lulling her to sleep.

———

They woke, washed, ate, and rode to the
count’s manor. Dardan cast furtive looks at Amira all morning,
blushing and grinning like an idiot. She smiled back, but her head
was pounding.
No regrets. There’s work to do.

The manor was a rambling affair perhaps half
the size of Tinehall. Amira wondered if Count Barnard had some
larger domicile out in the hinterlands, or if Tyndam was just a
humbler place down to the very last brick.

The house major let them in and went to
fetch the count. This was a town house, not a country house, and
the decor proved it. Though less ornate than even Amira’s manse in
Callaston, there was still art on the walls and patterned rugs on
the floors, and not a stuffed stag’s head in sight.

Amira wondered briefly whether the servants
at her manse were all right. She missed her home and wondered if
she’d ever be able to return to it. Hopefully her trade agent,
Mister Hendricks, continued to manage her assets properly. She
would hate to lose all that.

Count Barnard came into the hall, his
valo
trailing behind. “Count Kirth,” Dardan said, bowing
deeply.

“Lord Dardan,” the count replied evenly. “It
is good to see you again. Your… er… companion here was not
particularly informative last evening, only saying that there had
been some trouble.” He eyed Amira warily, seeming again baffled by
her tunic and trousers. She’d left her armor and weapons outside,
at the house major’s insistence. She hadn’t needed convincing; she
had no skill with a sword, and the mail was hot and heavy.

Dardan nodded, eyeing Amira as if she were a
troublesome pet. That bit of theatrics had been her idea; for this
conversation, Dardan needed to appear in control. Amira would keep
quiet unless absolutely necessary. “Ah. Yes, I’m afraid it is
rather a long story… might we sit?”

Barnard’s office was spare, a desk and
chairs and a wooden cabinet filled to bursting with parchment. A
double door led out to a grassy yard. Dardan sat before the desk,
but Amira remained standing by his side as Count Barnard lowered
himself into his own chair. A little lapdog with curly black fur
leapt up onto the count and settled on his knee. The count
scratched absently at the dog’s ears.

Dardan began with small talk, thanking
Barnard for his hospitality, and complimenting the previous night’s
entertainment. Barnard nodded graciously, but Amira could tell he
was itching to know why they were there.

When Dardan finally explained Amira’s true
identity, Barnard glanced at her with an interest quite distinct
from the usual sort of gaze men gave her. Dardan otherwise told
much the same story as they had at Thornstar, again leaving out
Amira’s power but elucidating what he could about Edon’s. And now
he included their rebuffing at Thornstar by that foul old
seneschal. Amira still chafed at that. At least Brahim could have
let them speak to the duchess.

Count Barnard listened patiently, and when
Dardan finished, the count cleared his throat and asked his
valo
to fetch them all some liquid refreshment. Dardan
insisted on water, saying that ale sometimes led to unexpected
outcomes. Amira held back a grin.

“Old Elmer Brahim,” the count mused. “He’s
been with House Arkhail for decades. Wise and cunning, he is. I
wouldn’t fancy a political contest with the man.” He sipped his
wine. “But it seems to me he was too quick to dismiss you, though I
can’t claim I’d have done any better in his position. Duke Loram,
dead… I will have to travel to Thornstar to reaffirm my fealty to
House Arkhail. Gulhin is a good lad. We had him here for a season
once.”

Amira felt it was time to contribute. “What
would you have said that Lord Brahim did not, my lord?” she asked,
stepping forward. Dardan shot a cautioning glance at her.

Barnard had been staring out the window, and
now he turned to look at her. “I would first and foremost have
asked this: Why in the names of all the Aspects would Edon Relindos
be so interested in you? I have met many an alluring girl in my
time, and no man would deny your beauty. Properly attired, I’m sure
even kings and princes would gape at you, and Edon probably did, at
the summer ball.” He was right on that point; Edon had gaped at
her, but not for her beauty. The silver light burned in her memory.
“So the question, my lady, is this: What special power do you have
over this man who can tear down castle walls?”

Amira had feared this. The longer Amira kept
her power secret, the safer she was, but unless they became
hermits, the secret would eventually come out. Only Dardan and
Katin knew, besides Edon, and who knew whom Edon might have told?
Well, if the count was going to help them, he had a right to know
what he was getting into. She would not make the same mistake she’d
made with the Tarians.

She wished the
valo
could be
dismissed, but Count Kirth wouldn’t likely agree to it. Steeling
herself, she stuck her hand out, palm up, and demonstrated a new
form of her power, something she’d been practicing the last few
nights.

The bead of silver light appeared over her
hand, and at first only she could see it. She pushed energy evenly
into it, and after a moment it turned white and she felt heat on
her face. The bead grew brighter, and Count Barnard peered at it,
his eyebrows crawling up toward his scalp. His
valo
gaped as
the bead lifted up into the air. The little black lapdog growled
and then barked at it.

“Do not touch it,” she said, “but feel how
it gives heat.” She moved the bead slowly toward the count,
stopping it far enough away that he had to reach his hand out.

“By the black spirits…” he muttered. After a
moment longer, Amira released her ember, and the speck winked
out.

“Lord Dardan omitted another aspect of our
journey. We were ambushed by bandits in the woods. I was forced to
use this power to kill three of them.” The blood sang out in her
memory again. Corpses littered the forest floor. That had been the
first time she’d intentionally used her power against someone, and
she’d suffered days of silent grief afterward. Dardan had not
needed to see that.

“This is the same power that King Edon
wields?” Barnard asked.

“They are similar, but his strength is much
greater.” She explained about the silver light she and Edon had
seen in each other. It scared her to reveal this to someone she’d
just met. She prayed that the count would react favorably, or at
least not try to have her killed.

He tapped his chin, considering. “Have you
seen this ‘silver light’ from anyone else?”

“No. So far only Edon. I suppose it is some
indication of this ability, but I have no idea why Edon would be so
much stronger. I can start fires, and sustain a light like that for
many minutes at a time without fatigue. I’ve no idea of his limits.
At Foxhill Keep was the only time I’ve seen him use his power.”

Barnard Kirth stroked his beard. “Elmer
Brahim was right on one point,” he said finally. “Whatever this
power is, one cannot fight it. Not directly. And consider that even
if Edon did murder his father, who will bring him to justice? All
justice flows from the king, and with his father dead, he is now
the king. A sticky situation, that. Perhaps he will bring himself
to justice.” He chuckled. “I apologize. I believe that if I were
assaulted by my king, I would as well feel obligated to defend
myself, no matter what authority he might have.”

Dardan leaned forward. “M’lord, any
assistance you can provide, no matter how… indirect… would be
appreciated to the greatest degree imaginable.”

Count Barnard met his eyes. “Elmer Brahim is
wise to keep his head down and watch the winds.” He paused, and
glanced up at Amira. “But love is a funny thing. Your father and I
have known each other even longer than we’ve known our wives. We
were as brothers in the war, and for years before that. I could not
forgive myself if I were to turn you away out of fear for my own
safety.” He stood up, and Dardan leapt to his feet. “Thus I will
insist that you remain as guests in my house for a few days at
least. Surely you need rest after your time on the road. And then I
shall see what else I can do for you.”