Evermine: Daughters of Askara, Book 2 Page 4

Pay the slave a pittance of compliment and watch her melt at his feet. I almost snorted. Had I ever fallen for such manipulations? Frowning, I conceded I had, but none orchestrated by members of the nobility. For me, the charm of a fellow slave had enthralled me. A flicker of his ruddy wings and my heart fluttered. His memory kept me safe from the lips pressed to my skin.

  “Thanks.” So many years without protocol left my pleasantries stunted. Twelve months’ worth of requisite summons had reacquainted me with royalty. Some of the deference I’d been taught as a child came back, but Earth lilted my speech. I stood out whenever my mouth opened.

  “Forgive my rudeness.” He lowered my hand but kept hold of my fingers. “I believe an introduction is in order. Ladies are seldom eager to scuttle off under the cover of darkness with strangers, or so I’m told.” His eyes shone with amusement. “I owe you a name.”

  His gentle chastisement stung my cheeks. Asking for his name hadn’t occurred to me.

  He kept eye contact while bowing. “I am Roland Bernhard, from the kingdom of Sere.”

  I executed a rusty curtsey in acceptance. “You have my name.” And I recognized his. He was brother to Nesvia’s consort, Rideal, and the firstborn son of Askara’s neighboring kingdom.

  He hooked my hand over his forearm and led me from the room, out into the starry night. My heart tumbled in instant love with a great black beast that snorted and stamped his hooves. He pranced, head tossing, hating the way his reins tethered his head to the building’s front. His coat shimmered beneath the full moons, drawing my hand to his back with magnetic fascination.

  “He’s gorgeous.” I heard the awe in my voice too late to cover the slip with ambivalence.

  “The horse she admires.” He chuckled, then did the most unexpected thing and patted the animal’s flank. “His name is Baselios, and his exploits are legendary. Ask anyone. Or me.”

  I laughed, surprised by his joke. Curiosity made me sneak a glance at Roland from the corner of my eye. His smile appeared genuine. Were Askarans and Sereians so different? If Rideal were anything like his brother, it was little wonder why Nesvia adored her consort so.

  Once, I had considered Rideal dense as the muscles stacking his frame. Only recently had I begun to realize the male I’d assumed was simpleminded held a quiet intelligence. Paired with his strength, and devotion to his wife, underestimating him wasn’t a mistake I would make again.

  I would do well applying the same cautious lesson to his brother.

  My hand lowered as a thought occurred to me. Baselios wore a saddle and bridle, riding tack. “I can’t help but notice there’s no carriage.” His withers loomed over my head. I gulped.

  “Nesvia dispatched me with orders to deliver you safely to her door, posthaste.” His brow puckered. “Tomorrow begins the trek to the summer castle, in Rihos, I believe.”

  Goose bumps broke along my skin. “Yes, it’s in Rihos.” I’d been born there. My father had died there, his skull crushed beneath the force of Harper’s palm. One life exchanged for two. His cruelty spread a ruby smear across the pristine First Court tiles.

  “Baselios is the only way you’ll reach the castle before dawn.” He grinned. “Afraid?”

  I was terrified. “No.” I stuck out my chin and strained to recall what pitiful little I knew about horses. They ate hay and grass, had manes and tails, and made clip-clop sounds. Some of the farmers in Dempsey raised them, but I’d never seen them off the farm. While living in Rihos, I left the summer castle only three or four times because Maddie was confined within its walls.

  He grabbed one of my curls and tugged. “Be brave, Emmaline.”

  Recklessness guided my foot in the stirrup. “Let’s see what your legendary horse can do.”

  Nesvia’s eyes widened as she examined me. I patted my head, touching knotted curls the second my hand lifted. My eyes watered from Baselios’s speed. His dark hairs sprinkled my cream suit with evidence of how much I’d enjoyed the ride. If I’d tumbled out of bed, I would’ve looked more presentable, but joy flushed my cheeks and exhilaration coursed through me.

  She glanced to my left, where Roland stood, likewise rumpled, mud splattered, smiling.

  “Your horse is to blame for this.” Certainty rang in her every syllable.

  He shot me a sly wink. “I told you his exploits were legendary.”

  Nesvia covered her mouth with her hand as if she were afraid of laughing. “I expected my sister to arrive in better condition than this.” She sighed. “Only Baselios could tempt a lady onto his back for a sprint across the dunes at this hour. He’s a scamp, the same as his owner.”

  Roland bent at the waist. “I will convey your compliments to him, highness.” Turning, he captured my hand and pressed a lingering kiss to its back. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  It surprised me to return the compliment truthfully. “You are not what I expected.”

  “I could say the same.” Hot lips brushed me a second time. “The unexpected is far more memorable, I find.” His earnest eyes met mine. “And you are not someone I will soon forget.”

  Blushing earned me a final smile as Roland left, closing the door behind him, as well as a raised eyebrow from Nesvia. “This must be your first time as the recipient of Sereian charm.”

  I nodded, embarrassed to have enjoyed his attention so well. “Are they all like that?”

  “If they were, the world would tremble and spill her secrets at their feet.” She gestured toward a chair. “It seems only the Bernhard line is so…potent.” Offering me a napkin, she added, “They have turned horse breeding and seduction into fine arts, where they are masters.”

  Silence lapsed while I scrubbed at my skin. Frowning, I realized how much effort I gave cleaning my knuckles, the flat of my hand, anywhere Roland had touched me. I set the cloth aside, noticing quiet filled Nesvia as well. “Roland made it sound urgent that I come.”

  “Oh.” She blinked as if awakening. “I wanted to speak with you before I left for Rihos.” She picked at the beading of her gown, a ginger confection twinkling beneath candlelit wall sconces. “I knew it would be three months until we met again, and I…” Her thoughts were left trailing. “I miss these visits.” Her smile warmed me. “I regret not knowing you sooner.”

  What remark could I make that wouldn’t burn of a past best forgotten? She shared a mother and the crown lineage with Maddie, while she shared a pathetic excuse for a father with me. Askara was a matriarchy, and my dribble of blue blood didn’t count.

  Once I reached a trainable age, I was given to the infant Maddie. In her nursery was where I first saw Harper, a cherubic demon boy, learning his station from an elder even as I learned mine. We three were devoted to one another. Nesvia lacked that closeness with a peer.

  She imagined she had found it with me, now. In some ways, she had. I cared for her, but Maddie would always be the sister of my heart, even if we weren’t related by blood. Some things you had to survive to understand. No matter that Nesvia had abolished slavery in Askara, she had been raised to make use of it, of those like me, and her sudden understanding I had worth, my own identity, as if she had uncovered a coal-dusted diamond, sometimes simmered my blood.

  “I do too.” I could have loved her more if I resented her less. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I would like you to arrange a celebration at the Feriana colony. I’m proposing a meeting between the members of First Court and the officers of the freeborn legion residing there.” Her brow puckered. “I believe it’s critical the nobility understands theirs is a mission of peace, so fears of warmongering are laid to rest.” She paused. “The problem is their leader refuses the nobility armed escorts inside the colony, and they demand protection. Since his nomination made you consul, I hoped you could convince him my intentions are well meant.”

  Clearly, she assumed Harper and I had remained cordial. I supposed we had, in a way, but he was no longer a friend I could call and ask for a favor of this magnitude. He would refuse.


  “You want me to ask Harper to host a party at the colony?” I saw that request going over like a lead balloon. “And you expect him to allow armed Askaran guards to attend?”

  “Yes.” She nodded along. “Can you arrange it during autumn court?”

  “I can try.” Harper and I exchanged correspondence often. I located ex-slaves without homes or jobs, and we negotiated them either employment in an Askaran household, complete with wage and board, or passage to the Feriana colony, where they worked in the silver mine. It was a harder life but free of Askaran interference. Some exchanged sweat for privacy without a backwards glance while others came too conditioned to fine houses and genteel owners to be comfortable outside of the home of those wealthy enough to pay their workers by the hour.

  Though I was human enough to admit, I wondered in the lonely times between dusk and dawn if Harper hadn’t followed me to Askara. Then weeks bled into months. Letters exchanged without a spare word, convincing me duty to his race made a wanderer of him, and not, well, me.

  I also saw Maddie’s disappearance in a new light since my return. Although I knew the act for what it had been, one of mercy, Askarans seethed at the notion a slave had kidnapped one of their own and lived to tell the tale. More than lived—thrived amid his freemen and spent Askara’s coin. I’d heard the argument uttered in low voices that silenced whenever I drew near.

  He’d murdered a queen’s consort, my father, and kidnapped a princess, my sister. Yet here he was, building a new colony on Feriana’s outskirts while the only thing guarding his neck from a hangman’s noose was a scrap of paper granting him limited diplomatic immunity. He was insane for accepting those terms and risking his life, but who was I to chastise him?

  “I’m sure you will succeed.” She covered a yawn. “I’m sorry to have dragged you so far for so little, but I wanted you to have ample time to coordinate the event.” Standing, she smoothed her gown. I rose as well, and she clasped my hands. Leaning in, she bussed each of my cheeks. Her fragile rainwater scent lingered. “Write me, often, even if there is nothing to say?”

  Hope filled her request, saddening me that my stray thoughts heartened her so. “I will.”

  “Good.” Her hands dampened mine. “Now, it’s well past all decent hours. We should both get some rest.”

  She made no move to leave as her fingers gripped mine. “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  White teeth sank into red lips. “Rideal has requested an heir.” She dropped my hands. Cast me a glance that ate at my soul. “I’m not ready.” Her shoulders slumped as much as they were capable after a lifetime of posturing. “Askara is in upheaval because of decisions I’ve made, and despite my affection for him, this is one request I cannot grant. My season comes next year. It must pass unseeded.” Her shoulders realigned, spine stiff and straight. “He will understand.”

  “Six years isn’t a long time.” Askaran royals were fertile once every five years. He could afford to wait when Nesvia’s obvious affection secured his place at her side. “He’ll understand.”

  Nodding, she brushed past me. “I’ll see to your escort. Will you brave Baselios a second time?”

  I think I found the horse and his master too engaging for my peace of mind. “I’d rather take a carriage if you have a spare.”

  “You’re wise to resist temptation.” Her smile made my cheeks burn.

  I had three months to screw up my courage and face Harper. My nerve endings sparked raw. I could write, hand-scrawl him a note on paper, but it surprised me to realize I wanted more. Fingers numb, my body sided with my heart against the sensible thing to do. I wanted to see him. We had been friends once. Long before we craved more than fate saw fit to grant us. Friends. The word tasted empty used in context with Harper.

  Nesvia turned the knob and gasped. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”

  I turned as Rideal shouldered through the crack she’d made in the door. He ignored me in favor of answering his wife.

  “I’d hoped to speak with you.” He frowned at me. “In private.”

  “I’m entertaining Emma.” Her finger found a dent in his cheek and pressed. I wondered if he had dimples when he smiled. “Can it wait?”

  “It will keep.” Capturing her finger, he pressed a kiss to its tip. “Hurry to bed, love.”

  “I will.” Nesvia turned from their murmured conversation. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” I recalled the portrait on my desk in perfect detail. “I think I am.”

  Chapter Five

  Grit stung Harper’s eyes as he gazed across miles of desert with no end in sight.

  His sweat made a perfect adhesive for sand, and his skin took on a pebbled texture as layers of grime caked thick. He scraped at his arm, itching, and came away with nail beds full of fine powder. “Just another day in paradise.” He turned toward the male at his elbow.

  Dillon stared back through the comfort of glass, his bicolored eyes glinting as sun skipped along the lenses of his goggles. His words came muffled through fabric covering his nose and mouth. Sand gathered in the creases, shifting as his breath huffed. “Paradise is the next realm over. This is Hell.” He shook a hand through his hair, knocking blond dirt from the chestnut strands. “Or didn’t you notice the sign on the way in?”

  Chuckling, Harper scratched at his elbow. “Hell is a human concept.” There were worse things than dancing men in red tights holding tridents. Much worse things. Eliya taught him that with her silken gowns, her blood-red lips smiling over sharp teeth and her nails polished to a feral shine.

  On the distant horizon, a pinpoint of light glimmered amid shifting dunes. Squinting, he stepped off the magically fortified road and sank to his ankles in sand. Dread turned his stomach lining to lead. He glanced over his shoulder at the glassy shine of Dillon’s goggles and cursed.

  “Look there.” He pointed toward a trio of dark horses seated with pale-skinned riders. Askarans. A low growl rattled his chest. They poised on the colony’s boundary line, ready to intercept the lumbering caravan. “Our merchants are heading straight for them.”

  Sandstorm remnants swallowed his warning cry. His wings twitched, but these winds would sandblast him to the bone if he attempted flight. “We have to—”

  Behind him, an explosion ripped open his ears. The mineshaft’s gaping maw spewed shrapnel and belched smoke plumes. Scalding heat blasted Harper. Air crushed from his lungs as his face planted in the sand. He came up spitting grains and snarling with rage. Viscous warmth coated his cheek. He touched his face, pulling back bloody fingers clotted with pale gray debris.

  Picking a rock shard from the wound, he tossed it aside and forced his legs to bear him. Behind him, Dillon swayed on his feet. His calf oozed, pooling crimson on the thirsty ground.

  Miners scrabbled from the depths, expelled by the mine’s final, smoke-filled cough.

  “What…the hell…was that?” Dillon ripped the rag from his face, gasping.

  Harper blinked red from his vision, straining his eyes where he last saw the caravan and the Askaran raiders. Three black slashes scored the dunes, bodies. Hoofprints led to the north, toward the city of Feriana, their closest neighbor. He spit blood and grit. Filthy black marketers. Six weeks’ worth of sweat gone in fiery seconds.

  He snarled his reply. “The last straw.” Turning from the mine, his back screamed as wind tore at his already tender flesh. Infection concerned him, but not enough to stop him from stalking toward the barn and popping open Diani’s stall door. The mare nickered in greeting, nudging his hand in hopes of finding a palmed fig. “Forgive me, beautiful girl.” He stepped back, and she followed him into the aisle. He grabbed a fistful of white mane and swung onto her bare back. Her muscles twitched as if dislodging a pest. He hung on, guiding her into a trot past Dillon.

  “Prepare a litter. I’ll check for survivors.” He reached in his pocket, checking for his mirrored plate. “Watch for my signal.” Tired and burnt, miners sat on pavers or lay in the sand, catching their breath. “
Send Mason for a priest if one is needed.”

  Askaran healers, priests, cost their weight in silver. Still, it would be years before Evanti practitioners matched their vast knowledge. With a frustrated sigh, he urged Diani into a run.

  Cheeks burning, he allowed the horse her head. Let her race the familiar road as his eyes closed, dry and burning. When her steps stuttered, he knew she’d picked up the scent of blood and shied from it. He swung his leg over, hitting the road with a crunch. A glance down revealed a pair of goggles he kicked aside. He withdrew his mirror and let sunlight glint across it in a signal before checking bodies the eager desert worked to bury precious inches beneath her skin.

  Straining his senses, he scanned for the telltale swirl of sand traps, magical remnants left over from road refortifications. They resembled quicksand, but their sentient hunger was far deadlier and their jaws impossible to escape. He saw none. That didn’t mean they weren’t there.

  Steeling himself, he checked his fallen. Two bled out, beyond saving. The third held his center, life seeping through his fingers. Harper knelt, tearing off his shirt to staunch the blood flow.

  Derik closed his eyes, losing his hold while Harper mumbled soothing words snatched by the wind. Long seconds passed in cyclone-swirled silence. A hand closed over his shoulder, and he lurched to his feet. Healers-in-training scuttled past, bent over Derik and began their work.

  Dillon leaned close. “Second time in three months.” He passed over the crushed goggles.

  They were heavy, expensive. An ornate leaf stamp in one corner marked their maker. The initials pressed beside the twisted insignia proved what he’d suspected—they were a custom job.

  “I’m surprised it took this long for raiders to get greedy.” Harper stared toward Feriana, toying with the leather strap across his palm. They’d kept their secret as long as possible. Word must have leaked, and now vultures circled.

  Some days he wished they hadn’t tapped that vein of embolite. Silver and salt were the two most valuable commodities in Askara, and his mine held rich, if isolated, deposits of both in their natural forms. The trick was separating one mineral into two products, thereby doubling his profit.