Read Threads of Desire (Spellcraft) Online

Authors: Eleri Stone

Threads of Desire (Spellcraft) (10 page)

When she’d first left the University, she’d been terrified and alone. She’d only wanted to hide away. She’d been so worried that the guildmaster would change his mind and hunt her down. Saving the emperor had not been on her list of concerns. She’d only wanted to survive the day. She’d lived like that for too long.

“This wasn’t Kal’s decision,” she told Lanel. “It was mine. If he had any part in it, it was simply because he made me look at the world differently, to see myself as he does.”

“As a whore?” Lanel sneered.

Kal’s fist slammed into the desk. “You will treat her with respect or we will not allow you even this small dignity. Ily is a wonder whose trust you abused. You’ll not make that mistake again.”

Ily touched Kal’s hip and it seemed to settle him. To the guildmaster, she said, “I never believed that you intended to harm the emperor, only that you wished to know exactly what was happening within the palace walls. But my opinion doesn’t change the fact that Haran will view such a violation as a betrayal.”

“I
don’t
wish the emperor any harm,” Lanel insisted. “Why seek to remove me?”

“Because of Nira. You let her die rather than help her. You attempted to convince Kal to place her exclusively under your wing. I
know
what you intended. Diani may be here willingly but in the end, you haven’t changed.”

Lanel waved his hand. “You can’t prove anything about Jilar. His mother died years ago and no one else was aware of the connection. As for you, Kal—Haran knows that you’d like nothing better than to see me cast down. Anything you say against me will be suspect.”

“The emperor might not take my word.” Kal smiled tightly. “But I imagine he’ll believe Jilar himself when he throws himself upon the emperor’s mercy.”

The blood drained from Lanel’s face. “He would do no such thing.”

“You underestimate your son. Jilar is a good man and I didn’t want him to pay the price for his father’s overreach.” Kal wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, drawing strength from his confidence. “I’ve seen the evidence of his influence on Haran. The emperor may be young but he’s strong-minded and strong-willed, not a man to be easily led. Part of that’s due to Jilar’s tutelage. I wanted to give him a chance to run, so we went to him several days ago and told him of our intentions. He’ll break his ties to you one way or another. You can act like a father and spare your son by releasing him and allowing another to lead the guild. Or you can condemn him. Haran
might
spare Jilar’s life after he confesses to a lifetime of betrayal but I would wager not.”

“You can’t do this. Ily—”

She smiled at the man who had once seemed so large to her, so incredibly powerful that even after she’d run away, she’d never really believed that she could escape him. He no longer owned her. And she wasn’t alone anymore.

“We can,” she said. “In truth, we already have. We’re allowing you a choice. If you refuse to make it, we’ll make it for you. What will it be, guildmaster?”

“You
haven’t
left me any choice. It will take time to arrange for a successor.”

She inclined her head. “You have until the court leaves for the summer palace.”

“That’s two weeks.”

“Even so.” She took Kal’s hand. “We expect to hear news of your announcement by morning.”

Lanel’s stern face was pinched with anger and he didn’t meet her gaze, just stared stiffly at the door in silent dismissal. It felt as though a great weight had fallen from her shoulders and she couldn’t help but smile. For Lanel, to be controlled by another, to know that someone else could force his hand, was the cruelest sort of punishment.

Ily turned and left the University, Kal walking behind her. She wasn’t certain if he was giving her space or guarding her back. Each step she took toward the gates, she felt lighter and when she stepped onto the road leading to Lasura, she turned to Kal and smiled.

“That went well, I think.”

His frown eased but his voice was strained when he spoke. “You shouldn’t have had to confront him. He—” He broke off and turned away from her, staring at the gates for several moments. When he turned back, his voice was steadier. “I’m sorry you had to do that, Ily.”

“I’m not. I feel better for it...though clearly you don’t. Have you changed your mind?”

He shook his head. “As you’ve said, it was the only way.”

“The only way that wouldn’t end in your execution, yes.”

Gently, he pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on her head when she burrowed against him. “You were incredible in there, more regal than the empress. You’ve amazed me at every turn. And that...you faced him down for me. For Nira.”

“And for me.” The warmth of his body seeped into her. His strength and his love.

He dropped a kiss to her forehead and tugged her toward the waiting horses. “Let’s get out of here before I change my mind and go back for his head.”

Chapter Fourteen

Cresa was cooler than Lasura, Ily thought. The difference was in the breeze that blew down from the north. When there was no wind, the sun beat upon her head with as heavy a hand, but when she was high in the hills and turned her face to the north, she could close her eyes and dream of snow.

It wasn’t an impossible dream. The elders who gathered at the gate each morning said that it snowed here occasionally. Ily wanted to see it. They said the flakes would melt on your tongue and catch in your eyelashes, that each and every one was exquisitely, ephemerally unique. She would commemorate the occasion with a tapestry for the library. She would place it above the hearth they had yet to light.

Kal had expanded his small villa as an indulgence to her, a wedding gift, adding a library nearly as large as the one he’d had in Lasura. She’d wept when they’d been forced to leave behind so many books she had yet to read. Apparently that had grieved Kal because, without her knowledge, he sent men ahead to work on the construction and then purchased a particularly dirty book from a western trader at a fair along the road. It had been the first book she placed on the polished shelves waiting for her when they arrived. The first book, but it wouldn’t be the last.

“Mother.”

Ily turned just as Nira came from the orchard at a run. It had alarmed her at first, how Nira flung herself into every activity so fearlessly. That is, it had worried her until she realized that fearless was not the same as reckless. The girl was every bit as smart as her father. Nira didn’t take unnecessary risks and if she thought an occasional tumble was worth the freedom to run through the orchards, Ily would not gainsay her. She’d long since stopped hovering, waiting for Nira to stumble.

Kal hadn’t allowed her to do that for long.
Nira
hadn’t allowed it. She’d proved herself an exceptional pupil, as demonstrated by the small square of fabric she held up between her hands now. “It’s finished. It
feels
right this time but you must look at it and tell me if it’s so.”

Ily took the scrap of fabric from her small hands and sat down, laying it on the ground in front of her so that she could examine it. It struck her, as it always did, how unusual Nira’s work was. With none of the traditional patterns, no borders or transitional bars, at first glance it seemed entirely random. But it drew the eye, as all good art did, pulling you in despite the evident disorder. Chaos on the edge of being tamed. This piece was her finest yet—an offset sunburst, tapering to shadow. Nira knelt beside her and touched the circle. “This is the moon here. Do you see the hounds?”

Ily opened her mouth to ask where they were, seeing nothing that looked like an animal, but then she smiled. There were shadows at the edge of the square, concentrations of dark grey thread in the black woven in an undulating pattern that suggested movement. “I see them. They’re very subtle.”

“Of course they are. They are vicious hunters who come in the night. Tiran says the shepherds must be extremely vigilant this time of year. There is snow in the mountains. That’s what the song is about, you know.”

“I do.” It was a peasant song from the tribes to the north. The man who delivered the meat last week had been singing it. Nira made him sing it a dozen times before Kal released him, paying him well for his time. Nira collected songs as other girls collected ribbons. “It’s a lovely piece.”

“Father’s birthday is next week. I plan to give this to him as a present.” A hint of uncertainty shadowed her face. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Ily pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across Nira’s forehead. “He will treasure it, I’m sure.”

“Have you planned a gift?”

Before Ily could answer, they both heard someone coming through the orchard, walking slowly from the same direction Nira had come. Nira snatched up her work and shoved it into a pocket just before Kal entered the clearing. Sunlight sparkled in the dark eyes that looked from his guiltily blushing daughter to his wife. “Plotting something? I should be terrified.”

“You should be,” Ily said.

Nira took a step forward and gave him a quick hug. “What would we plot but your happiness, Papa?”

A quick kiss to his cheek and she was off again, likely to wrap the present and hide it away safely until she could present it to Kal with proper fanfare. He watched her go and then came to sit beside Ily. She adjusted her legs and drew him closer so that he could lay his head in her lap.

“My daughter is far too clever for her own good.”

“For
your
good, you mean.” Ily sifted her fingers through his soft hair, finer than silk. “She learned it from you.”

Kal opened one eye. “You’re no innocent, Ily. She watches you. You’ve taught her exactly how to cast a weave I can’t escape from.”

“You wish to escape?” She hid a smile and moved as if she meant to push him from her lap though she had no intention of letting him go. “You only had to say so and—”

He growled and turned his upper body, rolling them both and pulling her down so she sprawled half beside, half atop him. “No escape, not for either of us. Are you a willing prisoner or do I need to tie you down again?”

Heat rose from her belly to her breasts and cheeks. Her lips parted and he smiled, both of them remembering
that
night. “Not a prisoner,” she said. “But willing.”

She was always willing with Kal. She’d thought that might fade or that Nira’s presence would make things awkward between them but neither had happened. Nira had bound them together as family while Ily adjusted to the strangeness of acting as an aristo’s wife. It was still a strange role, easier here where no one knew her than it would have been in Lasura. Kal didn’t let her retreat. They’d wed within hours of her acceptance and had hardly been apart since that day nearly a year ago.

Not that she minded.

His hands came up to grip her hips and he settled her fully on top of him. She could feel his erection, already hard against her belly. She smoothed her cheek over the light stubble that shadowed his jaw and then nibbled at his lower lip before claiming his mouth. His hand cupped the back of her head as he responded in kind. His hips lifted and her thighs parted to welcome him.

“Nira?”

“Has returned to the house,” Ily said. “Her lessons are done for the day but we can go inside if you’d like.”

For answer, he slid her skirt up her thighs to the curve of her buttocks. The fabric bunched in his hands. She thought she might begin to wear the skirts the local women did, bright bands of cloth that came barely to their knees. Kal admired her legs and a shorter skirt—he thumbed her clit and a shudder passed through her—a skirt that didn’t tangle around her legs would be so much easier.

She opened her eyes, expecting to see his face intent with passion, but he regarded her seriously. “Rael asked me today if you’re happy here.”

“Mmmm?”

He stroked her exactly as she liked, not too firmly but steady and slow. She planted her knees beside his hips and reached inside his breeches to free his cock. He grunted and then sighed when she sat down again, not taking him inside of her yet but letting him feel her wetness and heat. “Are you happy, Ily?”

“Perfectly.” She bit back a grin when his brows twitched. “Almost perfectly. I’ll be there in moments.”

He smiled wickedly. “Moments?”

“Hours then. Forever. I could do this forever and every second would be perfection.”

“I don’t have that kind of stamina.”

She shook her head sadly. “You’ll just have to do your best, love.”

He gave a sharp laugh and rolled, pinning her beneath him with her legs splayed and wrapped around his hips. But he was pleased by her answer, she could see it in his eyes before he dipped his head and bit her on the shoulder. She was happy here. With him. He’d given her more than she knew to hope for. Luxury upon luxury. A home, a family. Himself.

He gave himself now, pushing inside her, making her back arch and pulling a cry from her throat. Everything inside her rose up to meet him.

Just like magic.

* * * * *

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