Blood Oath (12 page)

He would just have to understand she
couldn’t stay here. Even if she refused to take over for her father, people
would always expect her to change her mind if she didn’t return to New York. It
would be worse to live in the country as a regular citizen, and she couldn’t
expect Demi to return home with her to New York. In her heart, she knew he
couldn’t easily leave his life in Corsova.

Anca would have to make him understand all
that if he protested. It wouldn’t be that difficult, once she got her stubborn
heart to accept there wasn’t any other way. Right now, that was the most
daunting task facing her.

Chapter 8

The next time Anca awoke, she was alone, as
expected. She sat up and turned her face in the direction of the large window.
Sunlight flooded the room, and what she could see of the sky appeared blue and
cloudless. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and noted it was a little
past ten a.m.

There
was a knock at the door, and she wondered if that’s what had awakened her.
“Just a sec,” she called as she slid from the bed and searched for her clothes.
Demi had folded them neatly on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Anca slipped
on the sweater as she padded to the door.

She
opened it a crack and peeked out. Her brow furrowed when she saw Nikia standing
in the doorway. “Er, good morning.” She ran her hands through her hair, hoping
to hide some of the ravages caused by a night of lovemaking.

“Hello,
sleepy head,” Nikia chirped. She wore emerald-green jodhpurs and a white
blouse. She clutched a wicked-looking crop in her right hand. “I thought you
might like to join me in a ride.”

Anca’s
first instinct was to refuse, but she stilled the impulse. If her sister was
making an effort to welcome her, she should reciprocate by accepting. “That
sounds nice, but I’ve only awakened—“

“I
figured as much. I rapped on your door for several minutes.” Her eyes gleamed
with a hint of malice before she blinked. “Long night?”

“I
didn’t get much sleep.” She strove for a cool tone as she met Nikia’s eyes.

“Hmm.”
Nikia glanced at her wrist, examining her gold watch. “Why don’t you shower and
dress? I’ll nip down to the kitchen for a light lunch to bring along. Will an
hour be long enough?”

“Yes.
Thank you for the invitation.”

Nikia
shrugged and turned to walk down the hall. “Meet me in Papa’s study.”

Anca
watched her go for a few seconds, wondering if she shouldn’t call the other
woman back and rescind her acceptance. She sighed and shut the door, figuring
it would please her father if she bonded with her sister. Perhaps her poor
impression of Nikia from last night wasn’t accurate. Maybe her sister had been
as surprised by Anca’s existence as she had been to discover she had a
half-sister.

* * * * *

Less
than an hour later, Anca met Nikia in the study, after losing her way twice.
She had wandered into a room full of tapestries she could have spent hours
exploring, if not for Nikia waiting for her. As soon as she had the chance, she
would return to that room—assuming she could find it again.

Nikia
sat behind Valdemeer’s desk, with her feet propped on the desk. The supple
leather of her knee-boots was as soft and smooth as the crop in her hands. A
picnic basket was on the edge of the desk.

Anca
smoothed her hair, bound in a ponytail, and tried to resist the urge to compare
her quiet beauty to the exotic allure of her half-sister. Something about the
other woman made her feel inadequate. She forced a smile, wishing her jeans and
shirt looked half as elegant as Nikia’s garb. “I guess I’m ready.”

“Sensible
gear,” Nikia said as she scanned Anca from head to foot. Her eyes seemed to
linger on Anca’s breasts for a moment longer than was comfortable. She stood
up, and the moment passed.

Anca
jumped when Nikia slapped the riding crop against her leg. “I should warn you
I’ve never been riding before.”

“I’m
not surprised.” Nikia shook her head. “I’ve heard your childhood
was…impoverished.”

She
stiffened at the comment. “We didn’t live in a castle, but we managed just
fine.”

A
simpering smile curved across Nikia’s face as she lifted a basket from the desk.
“Of course you did. Still, it’s a pity you weren’t here in Corsova, where you
belonged.” She licked her lips. “I would have welcomed the opportunity to know
you.”

“Er,
thanks.” Anca was at a loss as to answering her sister. She followed Nikia
silently from the study and through a twisting maze of rooms and hallways. As
they left the castle through an entrance around the back, she asked, “Did you
know about me?”

“Of
course. I was six when Katrine abandoned Papa.”

She
frowned at Nikia’s stiff tone. “Were you and Mother close?”

Nikia
shrugged, letting that be her answer. She shifted the basket to her other hand
and tucked the crop under her arm as they rounded the castle.

Anca
caught her breath as Nikia swung open a gate and they emerged into a meadow. The
lush grass was a brilliant green, and conifers towered over them. As they
walked past one, she couldn’t resist touching the rough bark of the tree.
“These trees must be ancient.” The trunk was twice as wide as she was.

Nikia
turned her head slightly. She sounded disinterested when she said, “Several
hundred years old, in fact. Corsova has one of the largest areas of trees left
from times when most forests were decimated to build buildings and create
farmland. Wait until we ride into the mountains. Even larger trees are common,
and the weald grows so thickly one could easily lose their way.”

“How
did these trees manage to avoid getting cut down?”

“Corsova
has remained untouched by the outside world, for the most part. Even in the
country’s infancy, our people kept our borders sealed.” She shrugged. “It is
our way. We don’t like outsiders.”

Anca
frowned as she caught a hint of warning in Nikia’s voice. Was this outing just
an opportunity for Nikia to warn her away from Corsova and her supposed
rightful place as queen? She could save her breath, and Anca would tell her
that if she brought up the subject. “I see.”

Soon,
they approached a building larger than Anca’s entire block in New York. A clear
stain preserved the natural beauty of the weathered wood. A faint scent of
manure wafted through the air as they neared the two open wooden doors.

Before
they even stepped inside, a young man came rushing out of the dim interior of
the stables. He bowed at the waist to Nikia, and then bowed even lower—if that
was possible—to Anca. “Your Highnesses,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Emil,
we wish to ride.” Nikia seemed unaware of the innate haughtiness in her tone.
“Saddle Brutus for me. Pigeon will do for Anca, since she has never ridden
before.”

He
hurried to obey her commands.

Anca
followed him into the stables, aware of Nikia trailing behind her. She looked
down the aisle, trying to guess how many stalls the huge room held. She guessed
at least fifteen on each side of the aisle, with those closest to her all
occupied.

She stopped
at the nearest stall and eyed the chestnut standing there. The horse’s brown
eyes seemed to be examining her with equal interest, before it tossed its head,
sending its blond mane flowing around its head.

“Rachel,”
Nikia said. She clicked her tongue, and the mare pressed herself against the
stall. She caressed Rachel’s ears, and the horse whinnied. She turned her head
in Anca’s direction. “It is quite safe to touch her. She won’t hurt you.”

Anca
was reluctant to reach out for the horse, though she didn’t think Rachel would
hurt her. The mare seemed placid, but she had no experience with equines. She
held out her hand, but didn’t quite touch the horse’s neck.

Nikia
made an impatient sound low in her throat and captured Anca’s hand. She pressed
it against the horse and forced Anca to stroke her. “See? She enjoys your
touch.”

“Uh…”
Anca patted the horse feebly before she tried to disengage Nikia’s hold. Her
sister’s grip tightened as she pressed her hand more firmly against Rachel’s
short coat. “She’s softer than I expected.”

“Rachel
responds to affection—the soothing tone of voice, the confident stroke…” Nikia
trailed off as she turned Anca’s hand slightly to caress her palm. “The
softness of your hand pleases her.” Nikia’s eyes gleamed, and she licked her
lips. “Do you like caressing her?”

“She’s
very nice,” Anca said inanely. She made an effort to tug away her hand again
and was relieved when Nikia released it. She sagged with relief when Emil and
another dark-haired boy—even younger than he—appeared, leading two horses.

It was
obvious at first glance which horse was Nikia’s. Brutus stood straight and
proud, with a seemingly instinctive superiority reflected in his stance. His
eyes were almost as dark as his glossy coat, and his white mane contrasted
beautifully.

In
comparison, Pigeon was rather pathetic-looking. The horse was sway-backed, and
its mottled gray coat looked ragged in places. The horse barely lifted his head
when Emil stopped before Anca. “Your horse, Highness.”

“Thanks.”
She gave him a smile before turning apprehensive eyes to the old horse. Despite
his serene attitude, she couldn’t help a twinge of nerves. What did she, a city
kid, know about dealing with horses?

Emil
seemed to sense her unease, because he assisted her into the saddle. “Move with
his gait,” he said in heavily accented English. “Let Pigeon do the work and
follow his lead. If he goes too fast or you get scared, pull on the reins and
say, ‘Whoa’. He will stop immediately.” He appeared skeptical about the horse
ever going too fast. “Lady Nikia is an accomplished horsewoman. She will assist
you if you get in trouble.”

His
words failed to reassure her as she grasped the reins and clenched her legs
around the horse. Nikia led the way, keeping Brutus at an easy canter. Anca
struggled to relax and move with the horse. Once she remembered to keep her
thighs clenched and her feet in the stirrups, she was able to loosen her death
grip on the reins.

Soon,
they were riding into a denser concentration of trees. Anca paused to look
behind her and saw the stable was farther away than she would have guessed. It
seemed the last few minutes had crawled by as she struggled to get a basic
grasp of riding.

Nikia
drew up on Brutus’s reins and turned the horse slightly in her direction. “Is
something wrong?”

Anca
shook her head, unwilling to voice her continued anxiety. “Just fine,” she said
with a false smile.

“Excellent.
Let’s speed up a bit.” Nikia kicked the horse to spur him into moving.

She
swallowed thickly and kicked lightly against Pigeon’s sides. The horse took off
with a small jolt, and she tightened her hold on the reins. The horse seemed to
be fine without her direction, and he increased his speed to match Brutus’s.

Soon,
she was riding near the flank of Nikia’s horse. The light wind blew through her
hair, making her glad she had restrained it. The steepness of the hill and the
profusion of flowers distracted Anca from thoughts of her appearance. Purple,
yellow, red, and pink blooms seemed to explode from the ground in huge clumps.
There was no clear trail, and Pigeon’s hooves trampled several of the blooms.

She
was so intent on the scenery that it took her several minutes to realize the
horses were nearly running. As soon as she realized how fast they were moving,
panic took over, and she pulled up so hard on the reins that Pigeon neighed in
protest. He shuddered to a halt, and his withers trembled.

Anca
took a deep breath, striving to calm her racing heart. Nikia continued to ride,
seeming not to realize she had fallen so far behind. She was half-tempted to
let her keep riding while she turned around and headed back to the stables, but
she didn’t. “Nikia,” she shouted as she urged Pigeon into a slow canter.

Nikia
halted and turned. She waited until Anca had caught up. She shook her head.
“There’s nothing to be frightened of.”

Anca
shrugged. “Sorry to fall behind.”

“No
matter.” She slapped the crop against Brutus’s flank, and he rushed forward
with a neigh. Nikia’s legs seemed securely clamped around the horse, and she
didn’t bat an eyelash when he reared in mid-air.

Anca
shuddered at the sound the horse’s hooves made as he hit the ground. She had a
disconcerting image of being under those hooves. She closed her eyes, straining
to discover if morbid imaginings prompted the mental-picture, or if she had
caught a snatch of a vision. No further images came to her, and she opened her
eyes.

It was
difficult to keep up with the stride Nikia set, and Anca leaned over the horse
and dug her knees into his sides. It was a jarring trip up the mountain, and
even the blossoms and trees failed to hold her attention.

It
seemed like hours had passed, and she was about to plead with Nikia to stop
when her sister drew Brutus to a halt and turned partially in her saddle. She
didn’t look at all disheveled from their ride.

“We’re
near Bulgain Lake. I thought we would have lunch there and rest a bit before
returning to the castle.”

Anca
nodded her agreement, too tired to verbalize one. She clung to Pigeon as they
resumed the climb up the mountain, finding her resolve to hold on renewed by
the promise of the ride ending soon. She decided not to think about the return
ride down the mountain right then.

When
they topped the rise, her breath caught in her throat. It was almost worth the
ride just to see the lake. It stretched before them for at least a mile in each
direction. Trees sheltered the shore of the sparkling blue water, and it was so
clear it reflected the mountains nearby on its smooth surface.