WinterofThorns Read online

  She straightened as the healer came back to the table with a vac-syringe in his hand. At the older man’s nod, she gently tilted Seyzon’s face toward her to give the healer access to the thick column of the warrior’s neck. She felt their patient tense as the fiery load was administered. Almost instantly, his eyes closed again.

  “Sleep well, milord,” she said then moved aside as the healer rolled another table close to Seyzon’s then bid a volunteer to stretch out atop it.

  * * * * *

  Seyzon wasn’t sure if he was conscious. He thought he was because he hurt so badly. His chest and stomach felt as though they were on fire and when he tried to move, pain ripped across him from one side to the other. Surely if he was unconscious, he wouldn’t feel such ungodly agony.

  He had no idea where he was though he remembered being told. His sixth sense wasn’t niggling him so he didn’t think he was in enemy hands. Though he hurt, he didn’t feel dread. He wasn’t distressed about his whereabouts even as the pain throbbed through his body. Instinct told him he was being cared for by people who meant him no harm.

  Thirst made his mouth feel encased in cotton and when he ran his tongue over his lips, he wasn’t surprised to find them cracked. He was fairly sure he had a fever for his head throbbed unmercifully and he was sweating profusely, the sting of salt running into his eyes. The moment a soft, cool hand eased under his neck to lift his head, he forced his eyes open. All he could see was the rim of a cup placed at his lips.

  “Just a little now.”

  The voice was soft, very feminine, sweet as honey, and it wound around him like a protective vine. Its owner held his head steady as water was drizzled down his parched throat. He drank greedily, groaning when the cup was taken away.

  “A little more?”

  He tried to speak and couldn’t, but apparently words weren’t needed for the angel administering to him returned the cup to his mouth. Another few sips exhausted him. She laid his head down gently on the pillow. He desperately wanted her to move into his line of vision, and when she did—her smiling face looking down at him with encouragement—he felt his heart thud dangerously in his chest.

  “Good morn,” she said.

  She was lovely beyond words as she stood there gazing down at him. He remembered her from the battlefield, recognized her gentle voice and tender touch but could not bring to mind her name.

  “Jana,” she said as though she’d intercepted his confusion. “Jana Reynaud. You are at Riverglade and Commander Vashteel has been wearing a path in the corridor, wanting to see you.” Her smile wavered. “Unfortunately, you have contracted an infection. Your fever has been dangerously high for several days now but you’ll be just fine. Healer Cronin just wants to limit the exposure of those around you for the time being.”

  “You?” he managed to ask, swallowing against the terrible dryness that had invaded his mouth again.

  “I’ve been caring for you since we operated,” she said. “There were a few warriors who were in to donate blood but Healer Cronin was very selective about which of them were allowed to do so.”

  “Operated?” he echoed, frowning.

  “You were stabbed, milord,” she said. “Your spleen had to be removed.”

  Ah, he thought. That was why he hurt so badly. It wasn’t just the blade that had lanced his side. The gods-be-damned thing had done some damage.

  “No need for you to worry,” she continued. “You will be up in a day or two.”

  He sighed heavily. Tried to lift his hand and didn’t have the strength. He closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that rippled up his throat because he’d dared move.

  “Do you want to go back to sleep?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “It just hurts.”

  “Oh,” she said. “I have something that will help.”

  He wedged his eyes open and tracked her across the room. She went to a cabinet, opened it and took something from a shelf. Closing the cabinet securely, she came back with a vac-syringe.

  “Healer Cronin showed me how to administer the injection. He filled the vac-syringe before he went down to break his fast.” She titled her head slightly to the right. “Would you like me to give this to you?”

  He wanted to say no but the pain was too intense. “Aye.”

  As gently as a leaf floating from a limb on a soft summer’s breeze, she cupped his chin and eased his head to the side. With firm yet tender strength, she put the nozzle of the vac-syringe to his carotid artery and sent the burning drug into his neck. He tried not to flinch but the fire racing through his blood felt like a cautery had been laid to his flesh.

  “I know it hurts,” she said, putting down the vac-syringe then placing her fingertips over the injection site. She softly massaged his flesh in tiny circles. “I’ve had more than my share of triso injections.”

  He wondered why she would need the heavy-duty painkiller and wanted to ask but the potent drug suddenly grabbed him in its numbing fist. Through a soft haze, he stared up at her lovely face and tried to smile at her though he didn’t think his facial muscles were complying. Instead, he locked his attention on her and kept it there as the waves of tingling relief began drifting through his mind.

  Her hair was in an intricate braid that hung all the way to her shapely hips. The color was an unusual shade of deep, rich burgundy that contrasted beautifully with her pale-gray eyes. Her eyebrows were perfectly arched over those vibrant, smiling eyes and she had the longest lashes of any woman he’d ever seen. A pert little nose, high cheekbones and the sweetest pair of pale-rose lips completed a face that was as mesmerizing as it was beautiful. Though she was short—probably no taller than five foot four—she had the buxomness of a much larger woman. He knew the breasts that were hidden by the bodice of her dark-gray gown would be more than a handful for any man. Idly he wondered if her nipples and areolas were the same striking color as her lips. His gaze drifting downward, he liked the tiny indention of her waist that flared into a pair of very curvaceous hips and knew her legs would be as slender and shapely as her arms. Taken as a whole, the woman was breathtakingly gorgeous and to add to the physical side of her was that angelic voice that soothed even as it enticed.

  “Better?” she asked and he drew in a slow breath as she put the back of her hand to his forehead. Though he knew she was testing his fever, he wanted to pretend she was touching him as a man and not the patient he was.

  “Aye,” he whispered.

  “You are not quite so hot to the touch,” she said.

  Touch me below the belt then say that, he thought. Between his thighs he was aflame and hard as forged steel. Thankfully her gaze was on his face and not where the sheet that covered him was tented.

  “Try to sleep,” she said. “Rest is what you need right now.”

  Rest wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted the angel hovering over him with her gentle smile and her soft hands. He wanted her so badly he ached to the marrow of his bones.

  “Stay with me,” he asked hoarsely.

  She smiled. “Always, milord,” she replied and laid her hand on his bare shoulder. Where she touched him, his flesh tingled. She ran her hand down his arm then threaded her fingers with his. “Always.”

  It was a promise that made his heart swell with such intense joy he felt tears prickling his eyes. As the triso finally took him over completely, he dropped into sleep, content and happy for the first time in ten years.

  * * * * *

  He walked slowly along the cobblestone path, her arm linked with his. It was a day of bright colors. A beautiful day with an azure sky lit by a mellow, orange sun. Green shrubs sported myriad pastel-colored flowers and vines held graduating shades of red. Rose bushes of every conceivable hue lined the walkway and lent the air a sweet fragrance that tickled the nose. A good-sized sapphire-tinted pond rippled as numerous varieties of koi swam beneath the surface and among giant lotus pads that was dotted with deep purple, magenta, vibrant pink and creamy blue water lilies.

 
“Did you know,” Jana began, “that water lilies stands for perfect beauty?”

  “I did not,” he replied. He was winded and his abdomen hurt as he stopped at the pond’s edge.

  “Every flower has a meaning.”

  “Which is your favorite flower, milady?” he asked, bringing her hand to his lips and looking at her through his lowered lashes as he kissed her soft fingers.

  “The honeysuckle,” she said, pointing across the vast garden to where a stand of split-rail fences marched. Melon-colored blooms clung to the gray, weathered wood.

  “And what meaning do the honeysuckle flowers have?” he queried as he threaded his fingers through hers.

  She smiled. “The bond of love. Devoted love and fidelity. It also makes a statement.”

  “Which is?”

  “Let me bind you. Be my captive.”

  Seyzon put his other hand up to cup her cheek. “You have bound me, milady, and I will be your heart’s captive for as long as I draw breath and even into the Thereafter.”

  “Such courtly words, milord,” she said.

  He tilted her head so he could do what he had been dying to do since the moment he had opened his eyes on the battlefield and seen her hovering above him.

  “That is because I am courting you,” he whispered. He lowered his mouth to hers to claim her lips. He did not close his eyes nor did she. Their gazes was fused like silk to wet skin.

  Her lips were as sweet and soft as he knew they would be. He drank from their nectar for a long moment then gently pressed his tongue to their fullness. She opened like a flower beneath his tender insistence and he slipped inside the warm, honeyed depths. He heard her draw in a quick breath as he swept his tongue across hers and was a bit surprised when she answered suit. He released her hand and put his to her other cheek, bringing her mouth harder to his. Increasing the thrust of his tongue, going deeper past her lips, he pivoted his lips over hers until he was wringing from her every ounce of restraint, every bit of resistance. She sagged in his grip as her body melted into his.

  “I love you,” he said against her mouth. “I am in love with you.”

  “And I with you.” Her arms went around his waist, her lush breasts pressing tightly to his chest. “From the moment you first entered my dreams.”

  He wound his arms around her and slipped his thigh between hers. The quiver that ran through her slender body brought with it an overpowering urge to protect her, keep her safe from all that would harm or hurt her. That quiver—and the way she clung to him—told him, without her actually saying the words, that she was surrendering to him, giving herself to him.

  “I will cherish you for all time,” he whispered then set her back from him.

  A look of concern settled on her beautiful features for a moment but when he sank to one knee before her, she drew in a ragged breath and the look turned hot as the embers of hell.

  “Jana Reynaud,” he said, looking up at her as he held her left hand between both of his calloused palms. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my lady-wife?”

  She put her other palm to his cheek and stroked his lips with the pad of her thumb. “It would be my greatest honor, milord Seyzon, and the full extent of my heart’s desire to belong to you and be your wife,” she answered.

  * * * * *

  Joseph Vashteel ran a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair. “Say again?” he demanded.

  “I am going to marry her. I have asked and she has accepted.”

  Joseph exchanged a worried look with his aide-de-camp. “Seyzon, you have only met the woman what…? Five days hence?”

  “I have spent more time with her in the two days since I woke than I’ve spent with any woman since Jackie,” Seyzon said. “There is nothing I don’t know about her or she does not know about me.”

  “Really?” Joseph asked in a sarcastic tone. “Does she know you have slipped the care of your keeper and need your head examined?”

  “Be happy for me, Joe,” Seyzon pleaded.

  “You cannot ask her to Join with you without the express consent of Prince Vindan,” Joseph said, striving for the only way out of a situation he obviously thought dangerous. “Or have you forgotten what he did when one of his advisors dared disregard his edict?”

  Seyzon sighed heavily. “I’ve not forgotten. But we are not in Meiraman. We are in Ventura. I am in the field and therefore I have the permission of our prince to handle matters as I see fit.”

  “Not in this you don’t! King Nolan is your Leigelord and as his right hand, Prince Vindan has authority over you. The prince is your Overlord and it is his edict that states no lord who has sworn fealty to him may Join without his express permission. It matters not if you are in our homeland or on a distant planet in the Tabhartas Galaxy,” Joseph pointed out.

  Seyzon squared his shoulders. “I will not leave Riverglade without the Lady Jana at my side,” he stated in a strong, no-compromising voice. “Her brother will not allow her to leave without the sanction of Joining having been bestowed.”

  “Return home to Lavenfeld,” Joseph advised. “Send word to Prince Vindan that you request an audience. Then is the time to seek for permission to ask for her hand. In even broaching the subject with the lady’s brother, you have flaunted if not broken Meiramanian law.”

  “You worry too much,” Seyzon snapped.

  “And you don’t worry enough!” Joseph countered. “The prince may love you dearly but if you go behind his back, you are courting disaster, Seyzon.”

  “All will be well, Joe,” Seyzon said.

  “Aye, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you, you stubborn ass!” Joseph grumbled.

  * * * * *

  “I like this no better than you do,” Lord Alden told Joseph two weeks later. It was nearing the midnight hour—the traditional time for Joinings—and the two men were standing together in the sacristy of Riverglade’s chapel. Alden would stand as surrogate father to his sister and Joseph as surrogate father to Seyzon for the ceremony. Two highborn ladies had been asked to stand in as surrogate mothers. Healer Cronin would walk the bride down the aisle to her groom.

  “This will not end well,” Joseph said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I see disaster in the making here.”

  “I too, but my sister is of age—and past it if truth be told—thus I have no control whatsoever of her,” Alden said with disgust. “Our father saw to that in his will. Trust me, I have argued with the brat until I was blue in the face but she pays no heed to my objections.”

  “I have sought a way to stop this before it is too late but I’ve not been able to dissuade Seyzon, either,” Joseph stated.

  “Foolishly, I thought denying him the right to take her with him to Lavenfeld would give them time to come to their senses. Making Joining a prerequisite to them leaving together was a terrible miscalculation on my part,” Alden grumbled.

  “Seyzon has always been impulsive but this has gone beyond recklessness into the realm of foolhardiness.” Joseph then cringed as the mellow bass tone of a gong signaled his presence at his friend’s side. He looked helplessly at Alden. “Tell me what to do!”

  “Short of you kidnapping the warrior, tying him hand and foot and flinging him over his mount or me tossing him into my dungeon, I see no way out of this now,” Alden said.

  “By the gods, I think I’m going to be sick,” Joseph moaned. Once more the gong sounded.

  “Best you go. There is no turning back now.” Alden pushed against Joseph’s shoulder with the confidence of a man who had—in a few short days—bonded with a man of like mind.

  “The gods preserve us,” Joseph said, his shoulders slumping. He turned and walked toward the robing room where he knew Seyzon eagerly awaited him.

  The Joining was witnessed by every inhabitant of Riverglade Castle. Security was provided for those therein by the Meiramanian troops that had accompanied Joseph to the keep. Other than Joseph and Ernst, his aide-de-camp, no one among the troops knew what was happening within the sand-col
ored walls of Riverglade.

  Or so Joseph thought.

  Just as the priest pronounced Seyzon and Jana man and wife, a commotion at the back of the chapel swung the heads of all gathered to the entrance.

  “Sweet Merciful Alel,” Joseph whispered as a contingent of men came marching down the aisle. He cast a quick glance to Seyzon in time to see the color drain from his friend’s face.

  Jana wrapped her hands around her new husband’s arm. She had not foreseen this and that she hadn’t was telling. She understood the ways of the gods and Their ladies and when They hid something from you, it was not good. She closed her eyes and bowed her head, her lips mumbling in a silent entreaty to the goddess.

  Seyzon was still weak from the operation, his legs wobbly, his head aching, but he had hidden all that from Jana for he had not wanted to postpone their Joining. As he watched the members of the prince’s Elite march toward him down the aisle, he not only felt weak, he was suddenly sick to the core of his being.

  When the first Elite Guard reached the Joining party, he stepped aside for the two behind him. They parted—one to the left and the other to the right—and behind them was Prince Vindan, a tight smile on his face.

  Those assembled leapt to their feet—the men bowing, the women curtsying.

  “Well, my friend.” The prince smiled as he walked up to Seyzon. “Please introduce me to your new bride.”

  Chapter One

  “Your Grace, may I present the Lady Jana Montyne.” Seyzon swallowed the bile that was creeping up his throat.

  “Milady.” Prince Vindan took two steps forward and held out his hand to her.

  Jana’s hand was visibly trembling as she slipped it into the broad palm of her Overlord. She sank into a deep curtsy, feeling his fingers clamp tightly around her own. “Your Grace,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “Rise, milady.” The prince tugged gently on her hand. When she raised her head and her eyes met his, his flickered. The smile slid gradually from his face. He stared at her then slowly turned to Seyzon. “I would speak to you in private, Lord Seyzon.”