By Vengeance Guided (The Lost Shrines Book 1) (15 page)

When the Prince lingered over skin that Caer knew was silky and warm, he had to fight the urge to storm the porch and violently protect what was his. Of course, if Lia ever discovered he had such possessive thoughts, she'd kick his ass herself and he wouldn't have to worry about Daen or his guardsmen. Even when the Prince finally allowed Lia to lower her hand, he maintained ahold of it. Caer knew if his stomach clenched any tighter, he was at risk of suffocating.

"I have not slept since word of the danger you were in reached me. Every time I close my eyes, I see your enemies getting to you before I can save you."

Lia transferred her scowl from the hand that held hers prisoner to the man himself before smoothing out her expression to something more neutral.

"I think, perhaps, the danger has been overstated. It was simply the arrow of a poacher that got away from him."

The story they had all agreed would be best to tell the Prince. Simple. Believable. Completely untrue. Lia flicked a disdainful smile at the glowering Gui. "It didn't even land all that close to me. I apologize if exaggerated reports dragged you away from important business."

Before the Prince responded, Lia turned to Nel. "Would you see to rooms for Prince Daen and his men?"

"Of course, milady." The housekeeper turned and graced the men with a dour frown. "I'm afraid, however, with no warning, what we have to offer in our humble manor may not be up to royal standards."

The subtle censure for breach of etiquette hit its mark and Daen actually winced. "I'm sure whatever you have to offer us will be lovely, ma'am."

He finally dropped Lia's hand to take Nel's in a much quicker greeting.

For a heartbeat, Caer's body relaxed. Then the stable hands took charge of the horses, Nel led them into the manor and Daen's hand settled, low and possessive, on Lia's back when they moved inside.

Caer found himself on the balls of his feet, hands clenched and poised for action before a strong hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Easy, boy. The sooner we convince him there's nothin' wrong here, the sooner he'll be on his way. It'll be harder to persuade if you go charging in like a jealous lover."

Keneally's harsh voice was a soft rumble when he tried to calm Caer.

"I know," he growled through teeth clenched tight. He did know. He knew he had no right. Despite the moon-bond, he had no plans to stay, to make it permanent at the next full moon. He had a sorcerer to destroy and nothing could distract him from that task.

And yet…

"Things have a way of working out in the valley, boy. Strange, odd things I wouldn't have believed. But work out they do." Keneally patted his shoulder and, for a second, Caer wondered if he was giving some slight approval.

When he glanced over, though, the older man scowled at the still unfinished shed. "Get back to work, boy. That shed needs to be buttoned up before nightfall."

-8-

Her patience was shredded with his non-stop solicitousness and barely veiled hints that things would run smoother with him around. Was there some kind of genetic defect in males that made them think their way was the only way? Even if they had no idea what they were talking about?

Then there was Gui, egging him on and contradicting everything Lia said with an annoying little verbal pat on the head.

And Wyn, who kept his distance, like she asked, but still stalked her every movement with his eyes. Glaring at Daen every time he stepped within three feet of her person. Not the subtlety she had been hoping for to keep her soon to be ex-betrothed from getting suspicious.

When she took her place at the head of the table, Lia half-expected one of them to attempt to share it with her. Perhaps her mother had been onto something, choosing a husband who couldn't make a decision without her if his life depended on it.

The bond between her and Wyn had settled somewhat in the past few days. The acknowledgment between them, along with the time spent together, had eased the thrumming urgency. Lia had no doubt they could easily handle time apart while Daen was in residence.

Except, Daen kept hinting he intended to stay on for a while.

When Wyn wasn't burning holes in Daen's back with his scowl, he set her on fire with promising looks. It wasn't the bond pressing in on her. It was a primal, feminine need she'd never believed she'd experience. Why did it have to happen now? When giving in to it could very well destroy everyone and everything she cared about?

Lia began to understand her sister better in that moment. The rash, illogical decisions that had led the valley to this precipice made sense if Marta had felt for Gui even half of what Lia felt for Wyn. The part Lia couldn't wrap her head around was feeling that way for the greasy, supercilious jerk.

Nel's foot nudged hers sharply under the table, jerking Lia's attention back to the plate in front of her and the company around the table. She had drifted to tune out yet another pretty compliment from the Prince. He was still talking and Lia realized he was heading into dangerous territory.

Before she could think of something, anything to divert him, though, he started the conversation she'd been trying to avoid all day.

"…aware that you will be in mourning for another half-year. I was, however, hoping we might set a date in preparation. There are so many decisions to make and preparations to start. If we don't want to wait another year, we should begin now."

The entire room dropped into an unnatural silence around them. For the first time that day, Lia was glad Daen's attention remained tightly and unwaveringly focused on her. Otherwise, the way everyone in the room flicked concerned or fearful glances at Wyn would have been terrifyingly obvious. Except for Gui, who only leaned back in his chair with a glint of satisfaction.

For his part, Wyn managed to ignore the looks. His eyes remained focused on his food while he slowly chewed. The hand gripping his fork, however, was edged white with tension and held it more like a weapon than a utensil.

Lia started talking, using words to hold back the curl of panic rising in her stomach.

"Well, we will be close to the winter solstice, so, of course, the harvest will be passed. The snow is unpredictable at that time of year, though. Sometimes the passes outside the valley can be blocked off for weeks after one good storm. Then we'll be preparing for lambing season. I hope next year is better than last…"

Lia carefully trailed off into a discussion of their livestock management and breeding, watching when Daen's eyes glazed over and slipped into the never land of boredom.

Nel and Keneally jumped in, keeping the conversation on the running of the valley. Soon the rest of the room took the hint and kept the talk to subjects difficult to twist back to the topic of matrimony.

As soon as the meal ended, Lia claimed exhaustion and headed to her room, wanting to escape before Daen found a way to maneuver her alone and into the conversation she did not want to have.

Maybe in the long, lonely night ahead of her, she'd figure out how to keep avoiding it.

Lia knew the risks, even as she tossed her day-dress carelessly over one of the chairs and dug around for her well-worn trousers. Out on her balcony, she tucked her hair up under a cap, hoping a quick glance would convince the unwary she was a simple stable boy.

Carefully, she crawled over the low railing and took a deep breath. She had done this a thousand times as a child and a teenager from the room that was now Tanis's nursery. But it had been a few years. Once her mother passed away, Marta hadn't cared much what Lia did. She'd been using the kitchen door ever since.

Not giving herself a chance to second-guess, Lia pushed off, landing in a crouch with a quiet
oof
of breath. A shadow flickered at the corner of the manor house and she froze. Ducking her head and moving back into the deeper darkness under the balcony, Lia she waited and watched.

After a solid, breathless minute, nothing stirred, no sound caught her ears, no shadows shifted. Her imagination was getting the better of her. Still, while she ran toward the herbarium, she couldn't help casting wary glances over her shoulder.

Once alone within the safety of the tiny building, Lia shook off her paranoia and twitched her shoulders to ease some of the tension that had been gripping her all day.

She crossed to the back of the room, lighting a couple of lanterns along the way. A worn work table tucked neatly in the corners and nearly buried under piles of books and bottles and tools waited, exactly as she'd left it. She picked up a small vial filled with a sickly pink liquid and growled in frustration.

Two months. Wasted. She and Nel had been working on this particular version for two months and it was wrong. So very wrong. Any possibility they might have a chance to correct it, to find their mistake and make it work, slid into non-existence with every second Daen spent under the manor's roof.

The sound of the door had her spinning around, hands hiding the vial behind her back out of instinct. Ridiculous since it wouldn't work. Even if it did, no one could tell what it was, what it was supposed to do, just by looking at it.

Her eyes focused on the hulking figure in the entrance until they adjusted to the shadows and she let out the breath she'd been holding.

Wyn.

An angry Wyn. He blocked the door with feet spread and braced, arms crossed tight in front of his chest and face etched into hard lines.

Instead of cowing her, his unspoken anger sparked hers. She'd had enough of being told what she could and couldn't do. What she should or shouldn't do.

She was the Handmaiden. This was her valley. Nothing and no one in it was a match for the power she wielded. A fact that everyone in the valley knew and too many seemed to forget.

Well, Wyn and Daen didn't actually know it. She was still sovereign here and no one would gainsay her.

Ready and spoiling for a fight, Wyn's actual demand took her by surprise.

"What are you hiding behind your back?"

She'd been expecting a lecture about taking risks, running wild, alone, at night, when someone was out to get her. Prying into personal work was not what she expected.

She hesitated, temporarily irate at the expectant demand. Like she'd just answer him instead of telling him to shove it. Then she smiled and pulled her hand out and tossed it towards him.

He blinked, barely untangling his hands to catch it before it hit the floor.

He held it up, squinting and frowning at its unhealthy color.

"What is it?"

This time, more curiosity than demand filled his voice. More confusion than expectation.

Lia laughed, harsh and bitter. "That? It's nothing. Literally. Nothing. It's two months of work that failed miserably. It's unethical and against pretty much everything I believe in, a last ditch effort and it didn't even work."

She choked off the last, tears drawing thick tracks down her face.

Wyn crossed the tiny room in two quick strides, the bottle hitting the table behind her when he stepped into her space. One hand cradled her face with a touch so light it felt like breath. The other slid soothingly down her arm.

"Lia?"

The multitude of questions in his voice and in his eyes remained unasked. Instead, he stroked her, caressed her, soothed her until she had to close her eyes against the onslaught of tenderness.

"It's an anti-love potion." She muttered the words so quietly, they barely registered even in the stillness of the quiet room.

"A… What?"

Something loosened inside of Lia and smiled slightly at his disbelief. "Technically, it's supposed to be a potion to end obsession, since I don't believe Daen is actually in love with me."

"You think he's obsessed with you?"

"Yes. No. I have no idea. It doesn't make any sense. This whole thing is so bad for everybody involved I cannot figure out what's going on."

She sighed and eased away from Wyn's hands, needing a little space and a little air to think straight.

"Nel and I found the formula for the potion in an herbal so old, it's a scroll rather than a book. Unfortunately, we didn't recognize the names of most of the herbs, so we've been experimenting. We thought we had it this time. The description of what the final product should look like was very clear, though. It's supposed to be bright magenta with an orange glow in firelight. It's supposed to smell like honeysuckle and lavender and to bubble, just a little, when shaken."

She picked up the bottle and shook it hard, grimacing when the liquid remained flat and unbubbly. She set it carefully back on the table.

"Trust me. You don't want to smell it. Honeysuckle it is not. Unless a polecat sprayed the flowers first."

Lia paced away, keeping her back to Wyn and biting her lip. Yet the words she knew should remain silent and unspoken refused to be held in.

"I have never, would never, interfere with anyone's free will. I have never given anyone a potion or medicine or herb without being absolutely sure what the outcome would be. I have never given anyone anything without their knowledge or consent."