Phantom of the Heart (2 page)

Now, here she was back again, her silver eyes glowing with an inner fire, which made cold sweat break out on Orla’s skin.

The princess took a step forward, and Orla steeled herself not to take a step backward. Sterling’s advance brought her close enough that her scent drifted up to Orla’s nose. Strange that a hardened warrior smelled of freshly squeezed rose petals, Orla thought as she tried to remember to breathe.

“I was serious, you know.” The silver eyes were tender as they looked at her. “I want you and I plan on having you.” A long finger slowly traced Orla’s jaw line, causing her breath to hitch. “I know you are scared, dearling. I want you to know that I am scared too. I am scared that you would not want me and that you will fight against our destiny.”

A soft shudder raced through her body as the royal stepped closer and closer until her body was lightly brushing against Orla’s. The red head tilted up and Orla watched in stunned fascination as the princess lifted her hand and hooked it behind Orla’s sweat-soaked, raven hair and pulled her head down. Orla stiffened when she felt Sterling’s breath on her lips and steeled herself for what she knew was about to happen. She wondered what would be her fate if she refused the woman. Was not it true, after all, that
everything
in the kingdom belonged to the queen and thus the princess too? She was not ready to find out yet. If she was to be banished from the kingdom, where would it leave her mother? Orla watched the princess’s full lips close in on hers.

The first touch of their lips was magical.

Chapter 2

The air rushed from Sterling’s lungs as her lips touched those of the blacksmith. An inexplicable spark caught in the pit of her stomach and moved upward until it settled around her heart. She pulled away to look at the taller woman. For a moment, she felt fear, raw and suffocating, as she took in the wonder on the woman’s face. She quickly took a step a back. As much as she was shocked that her mother had knowledge about her many liaisons with other women, her mother was right about Orla. The woman was an innocent. Sterling sighed softly as she put even more distance between her and the woman. Maybe she should follow her mother’s advice and steer clear of Orla. After everything she had seen and done in her life, could she really be worthy of one so pure?

She pushed her fingers through her hair and looked around to find that in her eagerness to see the blacksmith again, she had completely forgotten about the other grooms. They were all still bent on one knee with their eyes averted, but she knew that they were well aware of what had transpired here. Without a backward glance, she left the stable. She made her way to the palace, blindly walking down the hallways, and only stopped when she found herself before the closed door of Lady Hernina. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and slammed it shut behind her.

“Your Highness?”

Lady Hernina rose from where she was seated at her mirror, her chambermaid quickly moved away from where she had been busy brushing her mistress’s blonde locks. Sterling noticed the meaningful look the blonde noble gave her chambermaid. The girl curtsied and quickly skirted Sterling to leave the room.

“Sterling?” Without an audience, Lady Hernina addressed Sterling by her name. “Is something wrong?” The woman’s blue eyes were concerned as they studied, but all Sterling could think about was that it was the wrong set of blue eyes looking at her. “Please say something, Sterling,” the woman urged as she came to stand before Sterling. Anger and guilt mixed inside her, causing to her reach out for the blonde.

“I have nothing to say. At least not verbally,” Sterling growled as she took the woman’s lips in a hard kiss.

***

Cybralle sheathed her sword and briskly walked over to where Sterling lay sprawled on her back. She held out her hand and pulled her daughter to her feet. She watched in silence as Sterling sullenly dusted herself before she spoke.

“Something is amiss. Care to tell me why I almost managed to decapitate you?”

Sterling’s eyes were dark with anger when they met hers. “It was an accident.”

“Yes, one that could have been fatal had you been on the battlefield,” Cybralle snapped. It had been years since she had last been able to best Sterling in a swordfight. To do that twice in one week was disconcerting. She had not seen Sterling for over six years, but she knew her daughter well enough to know when something was bothering her. Palace gossip was rife with Sterling’s return and it did not take much to know that Sterling had been a frequent visitor to Lady Hernina’s chambers. When Cybralle had broached the subject with Mesmeria, her wife had been convinced that Lady Hernina was a far more than a suitable match for Sterling. Cybralle disagreed. Sterling needed love, the unconditional kind. Warring and killing had shattered her daughter’s heart and only someone who could love her selflessly could mend her. Cybralle had been around enough noblewomen to know that they were raised to look beautiful and entice suitable paramours. As soon as they have what they want, their scheming begins for materialistic gain. To avoid an argument with Mesmeria, she had held her tongue, but made a mental note to speak to Sterling about her liaison with Lady Hernina.

Now was as good a time as any.

“Norad,” she called over one of the servants. “Could you find some food and wine for us?”

With a quick nod, the servant left and Cybralle turned to Sterling. “We can take a rest in the shade.” When Sterling looked at her suspiciously, she sighed. “There was a time the two of us could talk about anything and everything. What changed?”

Sterling pursed her lips as she looked around. “A lot.”

Cybralle felt an immense sadness settle over her at the hurt she saw in her daughter’s eyes.

“I would like to know what is bothering you, Daughter. You are not happy and knowing that pains me.” Sterling looked at her and this time, Cybralle could swear they were shining with unshed tears. Sterling quickly looked away.

“I have changed so much in the past two weeks and it scares me.”

“Then let me help you. Talk to me.” Cybralle reached out and grabbed Sterling’s shoulder. “I want you to be happy.”

Sterling bit down on her lower lip. “Then maybe you should talk to her.”

“Who? Your mother?”

“No.” Sterling sighed. “Orla.”

This time Cybralle could not hide her surprise. “Orla? The…the blacksmith?”

Sterling frowned as she averted her eyes. “I like her. A lot. Too much.”

Completely shell-shocked, Cybralle frantically looked around for the servant. It seemed an argument with Mesmeria was unavoidable after all.

She needed wine, lots of it.

***

Orla rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. The house was quiet, which meant that her mother was already asleep. Even then, she cocked her head to listen again for any movement. Slowly, almost reverently, she touched her lips. It had been a week and yet, when she was alone, she could still feel the touch of Sterling’s lips on her own. With a soft sigh she dropped her hand. It seems that was to be the first and only kiss she would ever receive since the princess was avoiding her like the plaque.

The stables were not too far away from the palace for gossip to reach them, and Orla was well aware of the princess’s latest paramour.

The beautiful Lady Hernina had caused quite an uproar in Court when she arrived three years ago. Beautiful and witty, the noblemen had vied for her attention, with a few brawls ensuing in the process. The only way to settle the sudden restlessness amongst her nobles, the queen instituted heavy fines for any unruliness. That had restored a semblance of peace at Court. The beautiful noblewoman finally managed to settle on one paramour at a time and had been linked to at least a dozen of the most dashing lordlings.

With Sterling’s return it seemed the fragile tranquility the queen had strived so hard to maintain was being tested. None of the frisky nobles, at least no one who valued his position at Court, would try to call out the princess for snapping up the most coveted prize from under their noses. It would not only be a quick and merciless career suicide to confront the future queen, but the princess was a devil with a sword and numerous other weapons.

Orla was relieved that she was not part of the drama anymore. The princess caused a stir wherever she went, and Orla and her mother’s lives were far too simple to survive such excitement.

Then why did she feel the beautiful princess’s inattention so profoundly?

***

Sterling swallowed a curse as she stumbled slightly, almost tipping over the potted plant by her feet. She froze for a moment, waiting, listening. When there were no sounds or movements following her fumbling, she exhaled softly. It would be very unfortunate to be caught here at this late hour. She had made sure that she was not followed when she left the palace and had made a few rounds at the drinking holes to cover her tracks.

She moved closer, mindful of the potted plants underneath the window. The room was dark and quiet. The hour was late, as was to be expected. That, however, did not mean that she could not hope for a quick glimpse before she had to go back to the palace.

Just as she leaned closer to peer through the window, she heard a sharp shriek and gasped when she felt the sharp talons of the indignant feline pierce her leather trousers and lodge in her skin.

***

Orla’s eyes jerked open.

There was someone outside her window. With the realization, she immediately reached for her sword. Not many people knew that she was quite adept at wielding a sword. A few years ago, she had been called out to a small farm, not far from the city, to repair a broken plough. The farmer, a former swordsman, had offered to train her in sword fighting as payment. She had jumped at the chance. She stealthily made her way to window. Using her sword, she gently lifted the curtain out of the way. Her heart jumped when she saw a shadow so close to her window. The person was hunched over, but the moonlight touched gently on the gleaming head, highlighting the copper tresses.

The sword dropped almost immediately, as she realized who the late-night visitor was. She looked around the room wildly. She was sure that Sterling had not seen her. Maybe she would leave if Orla did not make a sound.

She leaned back against the wall, her heart thudding so wildly in her chest she could barely hear anything else. A muffled “ouch” made her close her eyes tightly. She could not very well ignore the next Queen of Karas if she was injured. And she was sure that Sterling was injured. Pinto hated all humans except for her and her mother. Sterling had not endeared herself further by stepping on him, if that was indeed what had happened. Another muffled “stupid cat,” spurred Orla into action. She opened her door carefully and tiptoed across the common room, so as not rouse her mother.

The night was cool, and she looked down at her nightdress. She was not dressed to meet the future Queen of Karas, but then she had not expected company, least of all Sterling, at this hour. She walked around the hut.

She blinked at the sight that greeted her.

***

Sterling tried to no avail to pull the offending cat, clinging for dear life to her leg, from her. How was it possible that she had not seen it earlier? Unless, of course, the creature had been lying in wait for her. She looked up at the window. No movement. If she was lucky, she could still escape this without having to explain her presence outside Orla’s bedroom window. She took the cat’s paws in her hand as gently as she could in her desperate state and tried to pry the claws out of her pants. The cat shrieked again and Sterling quickly unhanded the creature.

That left only one alternative.

She reached for the fastening of her pants. She would rather explain to her mother why she was traipsing around after dark without pants, than to explain her presence to Orla.

“There is no need for that, Your Highness.”

Sterling froze at sound of Orla’s voice coming from the dark. She slowly dropped her hands and turned. The cat, having heard Orla’s voice, effortlessly unhooked itself from Sterling and ran over to Orla, brushing against her legs with a soft meow.

Sterling stared daggers at the cat, before she shifted her gaze to Orla. It was too dark to make out Orla’s face, but she could feel those icy blue eyes on her.

“Thank you for saving me from that…that…”

“Pinto. His name is Pinto, milady,” Orla offered quickly and stepped closer. “Did he injure you?”

Sterling swallowed hard at the sight of Orla in her nightdress. It was nothing like the soft, smooth ones that Hernina wore to bed. Nor did it show any disturbing physical attributes as in the case with Hernina. Instead it made Orla seem softer. Orla was always dressed in coarse working outfits, making her look almost unapproachable. Not that it bothered Sterling at all. She was more interested in the woman than her wardrobe. But the way she looked at that moment, bathed in moonlight, her hair mussed, and her head cocked to the side, was bringing Sterling’s blood to a low simmer.

“How have you been?” she asked softly, glad to hear that, after all she had imbibed, her voice did not sound slurred.

“I have been well, milady. Thank you for asking,” Orla replied formally.

Sterling nodded, slightly frustrated that she could not get Orla to relax in her presence. Compared to all the other women, who had shared her bed, she would trade them all and the familiarity they had with her to have Orla call her by her name just once. She promised herself at that moment that she would not give up until she heard her name fall from those full lips. She moved closer to Orla and saw her stiffen slightly.

“I am sorry about your cat. I did not mean to step on it.”

Orla smiled faintly. “No need, milady. I doubt Pinto is sorry that he scratched you.”

Sterling blinked at Orla. Had she just made joke? Orla was always so serious and guarded around her. This close to Orla, she could actually see her eyes brimming with mirth. She swallowed as she stepped closer. There was a sharp hiss and she stopped in her tracks.

Damned cat. She threw the cat a poisonous look.

“I cannot say that I like your cat very much,” Sterling growled as she turned her gaze back to Orla.

This time Orla laughed, a soft, husky sound that reverberated down Sterling’s spine to settle heavy between her legs. She could only stare, wildly aroused.

“I believe the feeling is mutual, milady,” Orla said quietly, her amusement gone as quickly as it had appeared. Sterling narrowed her eyes slightly. She had never worked this hard to impress a woman.

But then, this was no ordinary woman.