Penny spoke up then, “No Miriam, that’s not a problem! I’d love to have you closer to us.”
I watched the two of them carefully. I had never suspected that might be the reason my mother had refused to leave her house before. Now that the veil had been drawn I found myself watching Penny as well. Perhaps it would bother her, even though she denied it now. The more I learned of the world of women the less I understood.
In the end my mother agreed to move into the adjoining rooms, though she swore up and down we’d never know she was there. The entire process involved quite a bit of hugging and even a few tears as the ladies (all three of them) shared their love for one another. Meanwhile Dorian and I quietly worked out the other arrangements which primarily involved having guards following my wife and mother everywhere.
There really wasn’t a practical way to stop the movements of a channeler that could hide his presence from anyone, so we decided the best thing we could do was make sure it would be nearly impossible to kidnap either of them.
Later that evening, as I lay in bed listening to Penny snoring, I couldn’t help but wonder at the turns my life had taken. A year or two ago I would never have imagined that power could make me so vulnerable. I resolved to look in my father’s library and see if I could find ideas on how to protect my family better. Some sort of ward to alert me to intrusions while sleeping would be good. As it was I could hardly sleep. Paranoia seemed destined to become my new bed companion.
Chapter 12
The cool linens were soothing against Cyhan’s skin. The large man slept with little more than a sheet despite the crisp night air. His body had always seemed to produce far more heat than he needed.
Glancing upward he couldn’t help but be glad to be home again, if his room in the palace could truly be called home. Residence would probably be a better word. Even so, two months in a dungeon had given him a new appreciation for a proper bed and fresh sheets. Not that he would have ever admitted such a thing where anyone could hear it.
“I must be getting old,” he mused aloud. Truthfully the cell he had occupied in Lancaster hadn’t been bad… as far as prison cells went anyway. The good duke had made sure he was properly fed and given fresh water daily, but it had not been a comfortable existence.
Despite the fact that he was back in his accustomed place he still found little peace. Mordecai’s words bothered him. Cyhan had always been proud of his service, training the next generation of Anath’Meridum (when there had still been the possibility someone would need one), and serving his king when that was no longer necessary. He had also prided himself on not second guessing himself once he had given his oath. His life had been built around the principle of fidelity.
Intelligence and wit were meant to serve a purpose. Little was to be gained by debating a choice over and over after it had been made. Yet the older he got the harder it was to maintain his rigid principles. Life seemed determined to color him in shades of gray.
Though his eyes were closed his room was softly lit by moonlight coming from the balcony facing the royal gardens. A flicker made him open his eyes slowly. Had something just blocked the light momentarily? He kept his body relaxed and still while his ears became more sensitive. If there was an intruder his hand already knew where his blade was… he felt no need to reach for it yet.
A hint of sandalwood came to his nose and he smiled in the semi-darkness. The sharp cold edge of a blade pressed against the skin of his neck and he could see a shadow leaning over him. “Has your time away made you soft zaihar? ” The voice that spoke was soft and sultry.
“If you had come to kill me I doubt you would have worn perfume,” he answered without moving.
“When I kill you it will be while the jasmine is blooming and your nose is already filled with its scent,” she said, leaning in close enough to see his face in the dim light.
Her hair fell around him as she leaned down and the smell of sandalwood grew stronger. Moving slowly Cyhan slid his hand up the outside of her thigh, tracing her curves. The knife pressed harder against his throat, its sharp edge warning him. “Careful zaihar, your life is in my hands,” she told him, her face mere inches from his own.
“I’ll take my chances,” he replied as his hand roamed into more sensitive zones in the darkness. A moment later the woman gasped and the pressure on the blade let up for a moment. With a twist he took the blade from her hand and tossed it across the room. A brief struggle ensued, earning him a few bruises and a scratch. His opponent was naked but for a sheer nightgown.
The woman was much stronger than she appeared and a capable wrestler, but she still proved no match for him. He was nearly twice her weight after all. Forcing her into an armlock he held her captive against the mattress. His other hand continued to roam even as she growled at him. “Has my time away made you soft Ruth?” he asked.
She bit him then, but softly. “Release me and I will show you soft,” she teased.
He did and despite his reflexes she caught him across the cheek with a stinging slap. He had forgotten how fast she was. He ignored the blow and drew her in fiercely for a kiss. Several minutes passed before she spoke again. “I thought you weren’t coming back,” she said.
“I almost didn’t,” he admitted. “What would you have done?”
She had her legs around him by then, and pushing him back down she leaned closer to whisper into his ear, “I would have left a trail of blood and dead men from one end of this kingdom to the other, until I found your killer.”
“And if I wasn’t dead?” he asked, holding her waist. The nightgown had already been ripped to shreds during their struggle.
“Then I’d have killed you myself,” she said nipping at his ear.
He smiled at that but didn’t reply. No sense spoiling the moment. A long time went by before either of them resumed the conversation. They had more pressing issues to resolve.
Eventually things calmed down and they lay tangled in the ruins of Cyhan’s bed. “I was starting to think you were mad at me,” he said referring to the fact that he had been back in the capital for more than two weeks before Ruth had chosen to ‘visit’ him.
She snorted, “I was, but you seemed too thick-headed to understand the message.”
He grunted but stayed silent.
“Besides,” she continued, “I’m leaving soon. I didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”
He levered himself up on his elbow to see her more clearly, “Does this have anything to do with you being found unconscious in the garden the other day?”
She grimaced. That had been one of her most embarrassing failures since she had begun working for the king over ten years ago. “I suspect I would have been given this mission anyway but that didn’t help matters any.”
Cyhan didn’t ask what her assignment was; he knew she wouldn’t tell him.
She spoke instead, “I need information.”
He took a deep breath; he had guessed it might come to this. He could feel something inside his chest clench uncomfortably. He ignored the sensation. “When are you leaving?” he asked but he already knew the answer. If she left tomorrow she would reach Castle Cameron a day before the public ceremony with Mordecai in the capital. The timing would make sure she was there while the new Lord Cameron was absent.
“I can’t answer that,” she replied. “I need to know what she’s like.”
“You mean my recent student of course,” he said bluntly.
She nodded, “I already met her husband.”
“Don’t judge him by that. He’s two different people in some senses. Hard under pressure but still naive when he can afford to be,” he said.
“He seemed quite capable, but I need to know about his wife,” she pressed.