A Magic King (24 page)

"Well, I wasn't eaten or killed or anything else." She casually tried to cover the scratches on her hands and face. "I was just having a leisurely stroll with my new assistant."

He was stomping toward her, his gaze focused on a particularly painful cut across her cheek, when he suddenly stopped dead.

"Assistant?"

"Yes," she said with a triumphant smile. "Steve will be working with me. The Oracle's Aide, so to speak." To her surprise and pleasure, Steve stepped away from the wall and gave a dignified half bow.

"But I thought I was your..." He cut off his words, his eyebrows slashing down as he chewed his lower lip.

"You? You're a king, Daken. You've got a job."

"I know I do," he snapped. He shifted his gaze from the boy to her then back again. Then to complete her astonishment, he knelt down on one knee to speak eye to eye with Steve.

"Is this what you want? She can be very forceful when she thinks she's helping someone. If you want nothing more to do with her, I'll tell her. And I'll make sure she leaves you alone."

To her relief, Steve shook his head with clear force.

"You want to be her assistant?"

A nod.

"You'll work for her honestly? No split loyalties. You're the Oracle's Aide."

A much firmer nod.

Daken studied the boy's face once more. Then, apparently liking what he saw, he stood up and nodded. "I think he will serve you well."

"I'm so glad you approve," she said dryly.

He shifted his attention back to her, stepping closer as he lifted her chin, twisting her cut cheek to the firelight. "What I do not approve of is you wandering around unprotected at night."

"I wasn't unprotect—" She gasped as he stroked her cut. She felt his power like a cauterizing iron, searing across her face, mixing with the pain until both faded from her cheek. She touched her newly healed skin, the warmth of his touch still tingling across her fingertips. "How is it you can be so amazing and so obnoxious all at the same time?"

He looked at her, his lip quirked to one side in his special half smile. "I am a king," he answered simply. Then he crossed his arms, trying to look stern. "And as a king, I tell you one small boy, albeit a smarter one than I first thought," he glanced at Steve, "is not protection for you."

"So what am I supposed to do? Have you dog my steps everywhere I go?"

"Yes." He nodded as if she'd come up with exactly the solution he proposed.

"Are you going to follow me into the bathroom too? Eat with me? Help me dress?"

His grin was wicked, his expression explicit.

"And what about the Tarveen? Who will take care of them while you're protecting me?" That wiped the grin off his face, although the grimness that replaced it made her regret her hasty words. "You can't follow me around, Daken. I have to learn to manage on my own."

He grumbled something under his breath as he paced the small confines of the sitting room with the sleek efficiency of a wolf on the prowl. Then he stopped, twisting to pin her with his deep blue eyes.

"Do you know that less than an hour ago, the Elven Lord grumbled under his breath while he stomped to his quarters? I've never seen the man more livid."

Jane brightened, an unholy smile drawing up her features. "Really? You think he was upset?" she asked innocently.

"I know he was upset. I gather you were responsible?"

Jane's grin widened. "I certainly hope so."

"Venzi, woman!" He stomped away, only to twist back toward her at the fire. "Do you know how many powerful enemies you have made in just one night?"

"You'd rather I simpered in a corner, feeding them knowledge and accepting whatever morsels they choose to throw my way?"

"It would be a good deal safer for you to do so."

"Then who would get you your army?" She regretted the words the moment she said them. She shouldn't lead him on this way. Eventually he'd figure out she lied, that she never intended to supply him with the weapons he wanted. But she couldn't bring back the words, and she didn't want to anger him again just yet. This was the first real conversation they'd had since she became the Oracle. She'd missed his smiling face, even when it growled at her for being reckless.

She waited for his response, but he was silent, his gaze centered on the darkest corner of the room as if it would show him the evil lurking around her. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, his words measured and frightening.

"You cannot get me my army if you are dead."

She settled slowly down onto a nearby chair. "You think someone will try to kill me?"

He lifted his gaze until it was all she saw of him—twin blue seas of worry and fear. "I think your very presence has unsettled a lot of people. The power you seek will not be given up easily or willingly."

"Just a few hours ago, you accused me of wielding too much power." She tried to keep her voice light, but she couldn't hide the hurt underneath.

"No. A few hours ago, I accused you of recklessly destroying an innocent man." He turned his gaze onto Steve, the silent, listening figure in the corner. "I see now I was wrong."

"Well, at least we got that cleared up," Jane muttered from the couch.

"Still, it could have been handled better."

Jane winced at the reproach in his tone. "I know. But political discretion does not come easily to me."

"I've noticed."

Jane had the urge to stick out her tongue at his dry response, but thought better of it. It was time she learned a little self-restraint. If she could manage to remain dignified around Daken, then she was well on her way to becoming as inscrutable as the Sphinx.

"So what now?" she asked, suddenly feeling too tired to make any more major life decisions.

"For now? You sleep."

From the tone of his voice, he clearly meant real sleep. Alone. So much for her tiny hope that he still wanted their night of passion.

"And the boy sleeps here." He pushed the couch a foot closer to the door. "Do you have a knife?"

Quick as a wink, a long, thin blade appeared in Steve's hand, then just as swiftly disappeared. Daken grunted his approval, then glanced at Jane's shocked expression. "Something tells me even without your help tonight, King Borit would not have tormented your new Aide for long."

Jane nodded, her eyes still riveted on Steve's impassive, youthful face. But unlike Daken's grudging respect, she was appalled. Steve had clearly intended to stab Borit, but she sincerely doubted the boy could have killed the larger man. Instead, he would have enraged the bastard into further acts of violence and depravity.

She was enormously grateful she had ended Borit's reign of terror before that happened.

"If there is any trouble," continued Daken to Steve, "you must get word to me immediately. You know where I am staying?"

Steve nodded.

"Good. And as for you," he turned to Jane, who lifted her eyes to meet his steady gaze. "There is a Council meeting the day after tomorrow during which I will petition for the army and weapons I need to fight the Tarveen. You can support me then."

A tiny sliver of fear cut into her heart. Just two days? She would have to betray him so soon?

She knotted her fingers together. "Is that all I am to you, Daken?" she asked, her voice unsteady despite her pretense at control. "A way to get your army?"

He stood next to the couch, nearly towering over her. The firelight flickered in the grate, shooting orange and red lights through his brown hair and adding a mesmerizing dance of colors to the gold flecks in his eyes. His expression was not so much inscrutable as mixed. She read many things there. Fear, desire, pain, and hope, all danced together with the flames in his eyes.

"No, Jane," he whispered as his lips lowered to hers. "I need much more than just the Oracle."

His mouth was lean and hungry against hers. The wicked cut of his tongue was sharp as he thrust into her. She rose half out of her seat to meet him, her back arching, her body straining to touch more than just his mouth.

Then he released her, striding out of her room like a soldier going to war. She was left behind, feeling lost and alone, wondering when and if she'd ever see him again.

* * *

The next day passed in a blur. Her first task was to get the Regency CX-537 up and running. Rather than risk another power failure, she decided to recharge the back-up battery to full strength and then use it instead of the direct solar link. That would also allow time for Steve to take her out to the market to get some real clothes. As proud as she was of the notoriety her outfit gave her, she was heartily sick of it.

Of course, the vendors knew who she was, and they were all anxious to please her; a fact that Steve took amazing advantage of. When she'd offered Steve the job of her assistant, she had no inkling of how very, very adept the boy was.

It began early. All she did was mention shopping, and then somehow Steve appeared an hour later with an advance on her salary. Doleens clicked in a small pouch which she held like a child grasping her first dime. Unfortunately, raised with retail shopping in massive mega-malls, Jane was useless when haggling over price.

So Steve took the purse back, assuming complete control of prices. All Jane needed to do was point to what she wanted, then Steve would drop an appropriate number of coins on the table and walk away, oblivious to the vendor screaming for more.

She purchased a number of colorful tunics and leggings, boots, underwear, toiletries, and most importantly, a black belt with a large circle buckle to stand for Oracle. She got another one for Steve, as well as some new clothes, so there would be no doubt about who he worked for now.

Once back at the college, she lost no time in changing into her new attire. Admiring herself in the short bathroom mirror, she decided she liked what the days of exercise and worry had done to her figure. She had a definite waistline now, something she'd always wanted, and the leggings did show off the new muscles in her legs.

She wondered briefly if Daken would notice the difference. Then she smiled at her foolishness. He could hardly miss the fact that she no longer wore skin-tight, black Lycrasheen and orange high tops. The question was whether or not he'd like the change.

What did it matter? she asked herself firmly. She liked her new looks, who cared what a man thought?

Not wanting to answer herself, she pulled open the bathroom door and noticed that Steve looked quite debonair in his new clothes. He also looked like he took his job as her bodyguard much too seriously.

"You don't have to stand watch over the door when I'm in the bathroom, Steve. I'm sure Daken was just being overprotective."

Steve didn't respond by either expression or gesture, but instead, led the way across campus to the Computing Center. It would appear, thought Jane as she eyed her Aide's stiff manly stride, that boys learned quite young the basics of being a man. And that included simply ignoring a woman whenever her opinions differed from his.

The rest of the day was split between various hardware-related problems and teaching Steve how to read and write in English. He already knew Common as well as his home language of Yonks, but he would need English to work the computer. He learned quickly, and Jane guessed he'd already secretly studied the language even though only Ginsen's scholars appeared to have any knowledge of Old Speak, as it was called in Common.

All in all, it was a good day. Wonderfully undisturbed by death threats or power struggles, and Jane appreciated the peace. She never spoke to Daken, but as at that first dinner, she felt his eyes on her everywhere. Usually she'd catch a glimpse of him as she rounded a corner if she stopped unexpectedly to see if she could surprise him. In those times especially, his eyes would caress her, lingering on her face or, once, on her body. His message was always filled with equal parts warmth, hunger, and warning. The first she returned tenfold. The last, she ignored, having come to the conclusion if someone wanted to kill her, there was very little she could do to stop him or her. She took reasonable precautions and prayed that was enough.

In any event, what could happen to her with two devoted protectors? Steve was always at her side, and Daken no doubt dogged her footsteps everywhere she went. So it was with considerable surprise that evening when she found herself alone in the courtyard suddenly confronted with the dark-robed Kyree.

She'd been sitting in her room, staring at the stars and fantasizing about Daken. With the Council meeting the next morning, she was achingly aware that too soon, fantasies were all she'd have of her warrior king.

Suddenly restless, she'd turned to the one thing that never failed her. Food. Even on her worst days, from childhood through failed higher education, the One-Stop Shop had always provided the best in junk food for the indiscriminate, calorie-starved palette. What she wouldn't give now for some chocolate decadence.

"Hey, Steve, I'm starving. Is there any place for a late night snack? A brownie? Or better yet, about five pounds of pure chocolate?"

She had been muttering to herself in sort of a verbal food fantasy, but before she knew it, Steve had disappeared, his chalk still rolling on his slate.