22 Nights (6 page)

She hadn’t had a choice then, not unless she’d been prepared to run from it all and make her own way. Was accepting this ridiculous offer from the emperor yet another mistake? Should she run as she had not fifteen years ago? She didn’t know, not yet, but she did know that it was time for her to make a few changes in her life. Some changes would be easier to make than others.

Lady Leyla Hagan was no fool; she knew very well why she was being considered for the position of empress. She would not be the youngest candidate, nor would she be the prettiest. She did not possess great wealth. The control of her late husband’s estate had passed to his only son, a child of his first marriage, and while he would not toss her out to starve or make her own way, he also gave her nothing which was not necessary. No, she was being taken to Arthes because of her abilities.

Some called her a witch, but Leyla did not call herself so. She had a gift, she was cursed, she was different.

“My Lady, I have repaired the carriage wheel as you requested. Would you like to inspect it before you get under way?”

Leyla turned toward Savyn’s deep, smooth voice. He was smiling gently, which surprised her. Lately he had always looked so gruff, so unhappy, in spite of the beauty of his face. As usual he was clean-shaven, and looked not so much as a year older than the twenty-five he had lived. His body still had the hard leanness of youth and looked elegant even in the simplest workingman’s clothes. His face was unmarred by wrinkles or scars, his dark brown eyes were warm and often laughing—though not of late. His longish dark brown hair curled to his shoulders and had the shine of youth.

“I’m sure the wheel is fine,” she said. “You always do good work.”

“I would feel better if you inspected it yourself, My Lady.” He gave her a belated and graceful bow, planting one heel in the dirt and bending low, sweeping one hand out slowly before righting himself.

Leyla sighed and turned toward the carriage house, where her conveyance sat sheltered from the elements. Riding in such a way would make the trip to Arthes much longer, but she would not ride on horseback for weeks. She’d never been fond of riding, and was too old and too spoiled to make the sacrifice now. Besides, the sooner she left Childers, the better all would be, for everyone.

Savyn circled the carriage so that he was hidden from her view. Leyla sighed softly and followed in his footsteps.

“I also repaired the door handle on this far side. It was quite loose,” he said as she rounded the coach.

“That was very kind of you.” No one was near, not that she could see, but one could never be too careful.

Caution was not a trait she and Savyn shared.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her body against his, holding her against him so tightly she could barely breathe. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he whispered. “Don’t go.” He pressed his mouth to her throat and let it linger there. “Don’t go, please.”

Her relationship with Savyn was also a mistake, perhaps the most egregious one. Leyla allowed her eyes to close for a moment, as she enjoyed the way his mouth felt on her throat. She did not have much time for savoring. “I have no choice.”

“You always have a choice, Leyla,” Savyn argued. “You can use your gift on Bragg and convince him you are not suitable. Send him away. Stay with me.”

“I can’t.” She’d been trying to end this two-year relationship for the past six months. No, longer than that. She’d never intended to make Savyn such a permanent part of her life, such an
important
part. Her leaving was, in many ways, a blessing for both of them. “You know I don’t use my abilities recklessly.”

“No one else will love you as much as I do,” he argued. “It would be impossible.”

“You do not love me,” she commanded.

“I do. When will you say those words to me, Leyla? When will you admit that what I see in your eyes is the truth? ”

“I can’t love you,” she argued. For so many reasons, she could not love Savyn.

Soon Savyn argued without words. He lifted the skirt of her drab gray traveling outfit and slid his hands up her thighs to the apex. He had the rough hands of a man who worked hard, who labored and had never known a day of leisure, and yet he was surprisingly gentle. His fingers danced with great skill, until she forgot all her arguments. Her legs parted, and she forgot everything but the way he made her feel.

Savyn always did this to her. Every time she went to him intent on ending their ill-advised relationship, every time she argued that they had nothing in common, he touched her and the argument was over. All the arguments in the world didn’t matter when he held her. She was a monied widow and he was a wheelwright and swordmaker. If people knew they were involved in any way they would laugh or, worse, think Savyn was involved with her for her position and her power. She was nine years older than he. Nine years! No one ever questioned a marriage or a relationship where the man was older than the woman, but when the woman was older, people whispered. People could be cruel.

She did not want children, and took a potion to make sure she never found herself with one. Savyn was young and happy and wanted babies. He wanted a wife and family and all that came with them. He should have what he wanted, and she could not give it to him.

“Take me with you,” he said as he aroused her with hands that knew her too well.

“I can’t.”

“You can do anything you wish, Leyla. If you won’t stay, if I am not enough to keep you here, then take me with you.”

And make him an empress’s plaything? Never. She would not degrade him that way.

Leyla was confident she would be chosen, even though Minister Bragg had made it clear there were five other women in this odd competition. Yes, the other women would have their own merits, she was sure, but no other could offer a leader the benefits of a wife who had the power to persuade those around him to do as she directed. No other could magically and instantly sway another’s mind.

If she could get close enough, she could make certain the emperor chose her. Perhaps that was unfair, but something would have to be done. She could not come back here, not ever.

Savyn slipped a finger inside her, and she stopped thinking of anything but the end of this encounter. Their last. She’d thought last night would be their last time together, and the night before that, and even the night before that . . . but she could not stay away from Savyn, and he could not stay away from her. That was reason enough for her to leave Childers and not look back.

She fumbled with the drawstring at Savyn’s trouser opening, loosened his britches and pulled at them, then freed his shaft and wrapped her fingers around it, stroking as she brought him closer. Closer. She wanted to wrap herself around him in every way possible.

He threw open the carriage door and laid her down. Her back was against the narrow floor, while Savyn was more out of the carriage than in. Her legs wrapped around his hips and pulled him closer, and he pushed deep and hard to fill her.

There was no finesse in this joining, no laughter or sweet words. They’d had those things in the past, but this was a fierce and final fuck, a primal and sweaty urge they could not deny. Savyn moved within her fast and hard and deep, wonderfully deep. Leyla climaxed quickly, and so hard there were tears in her eyes. She almost screamed, even though not so far away there were sentinels and one pompous deputy minister preparing for departure, and a scream would surely bring them running. Since she could not scream, she cried, and when Savyn found release, he was crying, too.

They were still joined. Wet, sweaty, disheveled, and weeping.

He was crying because she was leaving him; she was crying because she’d ruined his life.

Leyla had vowed long ago not to use her abilities lightly. She did not call upon her gifts to make her life easier, to get what she wanted, to make others do her bidding. It seemed evil to take a God-given gift and use it for her own comforts. And yet, what else could she do now?

They parted slowly, and Savyn straightened his clothes and smoothed his hair. Heaven above, she loved his dark curls. Her own hair was midnight black and much too curly, but Savyn’s curls were soft and warm, like his eyes.

Leyla raised her head from the carriage floor. “I need something to clean myself.”

Savyn shook his head, and he did not smile. “No, I think you should leave here with something of me on you and in you, so perhaps you will remember me for a while.”

She could tell him, honestly, that she would always remember him, that she would always have something of him with her, but that would not make his life any easier. Best that he think she did not care for anything but his talents as a lover.

Not that he would remember.

After she had straightened her clothing and smoothed her hair, which was easy enough since the mass of black curls was always in disarray, she left the carriage and stood before Savyn. She could see the hurt in his warm brown eyes, she could see the tremble of his lips. It had always been so easy to convince herself that he did not love her, even though he said the words easily. At this moment, she could see that she had broken his heart.

Without hesitation, she reached up and touched his forehead. “Forget us,” she whispered. “Forget everything that happened between us in the past two years and three months. Forget words of love, forget whispered plans for a life we should’ve known we could never have. Live your life without me, Savyn, and be happy.”

He slapped her hand away. “What are you doing? How dare you . . .”

But it was too late. The deed was done. She watched as his eyes clouded for a moment, and he backed away from her. Savyn stumbled once, turned around in confusion, and then faced her again. “My Lady Hagan,” he said. “I’m . . . I’m . . .”

She did not make him fumble with his words any longer. “The wheel looks fine,” she said in an emotionless voice. “And I do appreciate you repairing that door handle. We can’t have it falling off halfway to Arthes.” She gave him a cool smile. “I’ll see that you’re paid before I leave.”

Savyn still looked a bit confused, but he would remember repairing the wheel and the handle, and though he would realize for a while that there were blank spots in his memory, eventually even that would fade. “Thank you, My Lady.”

Leyla turned away so he would not see the tears in her eyes.

“Safe journey, My Lady,” Savyn called after her.

She did not respond. As she headed for the house, where she would make sure someone paid Savyn for his work before she made a last visit to her bedchamber to clean herself and perhaps even change clothes, she wished she could use her ability on herself. She wished with all her heart that she could make herself forget.

GENERAL
Tearlach Merin had marched through downpours of rain and sleet. He had battled soulless monsters that fought without fear or mercy. He had gone days without sleep and fought while blood poured down his forehead and into his eyes, all but blinding him.

He could bear three weeks and a day bound to Belavalari Haythorne.

His “wife” was dressed like a man but looked nothing like one. Her gentle curves were plain enough to see under the trousers and simple shirt she wore. A leather band had taken the place of the gold that had circled her brow last night, and she wore no womanly adornments. She had aged well—she had turned from a girl to a fine woman—and she was oddly appealing. She wasn’t traditionally beautiful, but there was—and always had been—something remarkable and commanding about her. Something undeniably interesting. That did not mean he would forgive her for lying to him, for deceiving him in so many ways he could not begin to list them all.

When he looked past his anger, he could see the wisdom of the Turi custom, if the couple in question were actually man and wife. He’d seen many a broken couple in his life in the palace. He’d seen men and women who had once been close grow apart until they were all but strangers. A few of them would benefit from being forced to spend time with their spouses.

But he and Bela had never truly been wed! She’d deceived him, and he had not even realized . . .

“I suppose we must speak, on occasion,” she said, interrupting his reflection. “How have you been these past six years?” She sounded very cordial.

“Fine,” he answered sharply. “You?”

They sat on a large, flat rock in front of the Haythorne home. It was oddly shaped, fat and curving rather like a bean, and had probably been here much longer than the house. It was too large to move, and too beautiful to destroy. The flat top of the rock was littered with sparkling fissures in crimson and a deep shade of blue.

“Very fine,” Bela said decisively. “My days are full and as I like them. I hunt, I take a turn at guarding the village, and I help to train the young ones, as they come of age, to use a sword. I’ve even done a bit of mining, though I found it not to my taste. My father has sought my counsel on more than one occasion, and I’ve assisted him in settling more than one dispute between the miners.”