Rebel's Honor(27)

"What do you want here?" Lukan yelled at the top of his voice. "Get out of my way."

The man bobbed a bow, then fled the way he'd come.

Lukan slumped against the wall, even angrier with himself than he was at the high-born, his father, or the vision.

What's the point of working on my image if I scream at people? The bastard shouldn't have been here.

But even as he thought that, he knew it was stupid. The man lived in the palace; he had every right to walk the halls.

Lukan had to get a grip. His temper had run riot since Thurban started  talking to him. He couldn't let these weird supernatural things mess  with his control like this.

In the face of the worst provocation his father could inflict on him,  he'd always managed to appear poised and regal, a man above his  circumstances. He had prided himself on that achievement the way Axel  strutted around boasting about battlefield conquests.

It was only when his heart stopped pounding that he entered the gambling room.

As to be expected, Tao was with Axel and Stefan.

Lukan stopped at the door to watch them and sighed.

They were playing tiles, a game of military strategy he loathed. No  matter how many times he played the stupid game, he always lost. When he  was younger, he had even taken lessons from some of Chenaya's most  decorated generals-but to no avail. Whatever tricks he was taught, Axel  always knew how to counter him. He had stopped playing tiles years ago.

Axel looked up, caught sight of him, and smiled. It was not a pretty sight.

"Lukan, our beloved crown prince," Axel drawled in his usual mocking tone.

Both Tao and Stefan turned to stare.

His cousin laughed and said to Tao, "I've been spending way too much time with Mother Saskia."

Heartbreakingly, Tao joined in the laughter. At least Stefan had enough  respect to stand and bow, which was more than he could say for Axel.

Lukan's skin burned with anger at the affront. He took a deep breath and shook his shoulders to force his muscles to relax.                       
       
           



       

Axel kicked out a chair. "Lukan, come, sit. It's been a long time since we've battled each other over tiles."

Lukan took the chair. "Don't get your hopes up, Axel. I have an urge to  play dice." He reached across the table and picked up an unopened pack  of dice. He was about to crack the seal when Axel laughed.

Like every encounter with Axel and his cronies, this was turning out to be humiliating.

Axel reached over and took the pack from his hands and tossed it onto an  empty table next to them. "Not a chance. If you want part of our  action, you play by our rules. And tiles it is."

Lukan leaped to his feet. Eyes fixed on Tao, he said, "And you say I'm bad company?"

Without waiting for Tao to reply, he left the room. Nothing this side of  hell would induce him to spend any more time here. Not when he had to  face Lynx in the morning.





Chapter 18





"Open the door, Princess."

Lynx groaned, rolled out of bed, and stumbled across the deep-pile carpet to the door.

The she-witch was there, holding out a candle. "Dress," she commanded.  "The emperor summons you. I will take you to his chambers."

Shock pierced Lynx like a sword. But this hateful woman would never be privy to that.

Feigning nonchalance, Lynx asked, "What time is it?" She held up her  wrist. "I wouldn't need to ask, but someone took it upon herself to  destroy my watch."

The she-witch's lips twitched. She swallowed and then said in a  conciliatory tone, "Let bygones be bygones, Princess Lynx. I've  discovered, to my cost, that life is too fragile . . . fleeting, even,  to bear grudges." The priestess's breath hitched. "In fact, my dear,  this may well be the last time we see each other."

Lynx jerked upright. What in the world could have happened to the woman?  Was it possible the priestess was human and not just the emperor's  tool, bent on destroying all individuality?

Too little, too late. Lynx took the candle. Once the door closed, she  headed for her dressing room, bigger even than her tent in Norin. A maid  had hung up the garments Uncle Bear had given her. None of Mother  Saskia's "proper" dresses had made it into the collection. That left her  with limited choices. Bustle firmly in place, she slipped on an  elegant-or at least she thought it grand-green dress. Her hands trembled  as she laced her corset. Without thinking to brush her hair, she rushed  to the door to meet the she-witch.

They walked in silence past the guardsmen at the entrance to her apartment.

Lynx made special note of features to help her navigate. A statue of an  unknown emperor glared at her from a column, then she passed a wall of  stained glass windows, a tapestry depicting a black dragon in full  flight, and a wall covered with flags that once belonged to the  conquered. A stuffed snow leopard and her cubs were the last notable  sight before the parquet floor gave way to slick, marble tiles. Although  the furnishings changed, one thing remained constant: the absence of  people, aside from the occasional patrolling guardsman.

What was so important that Mott had to drag her out in the middle of the  night? She considered asking the she-witch but dismissed the idea  almost as it formed. She would know soon enough.

They reached a wooden door guarded by two more soldiers.

Mother Saskia knocked far more tentatively than the rap she'd sounded on Lynx's door.

Neither the thickness nor the weight of the solid oak muffled Mott's voice. "Enter."

Heart beating faster than a hummingbird's wings, Lynx waited as a sentry  opened the door for her. She stopped at the threshold, taking in the  expansive room.

Well lit with oil lamps and furnished with heavy wood and leather  furniture, it seemed deserted, until Mott spoke from behind a  wing-backed chair. "Get over here, girl."

Bristling at the tone, Lynx eased around a couple of sofas and a low  table toward his chair, facing a blazing fireplace that stretched the  length of one wall. Mott waited, dagger in his hand. She forced herself  to stand tall, as if she faced knife-wielding emperors every day. She  caught an acrid whiff of chenna from his breath, and a goblet of the  stuff waited next to his elbow. How sober was he?

Mott wasn't in a hurry to satisfy her curiosity, keeping her waiting at  least a full minute before asking, with nary a slur, "Why are you here,  girl?"

Lynx looked at him warily, wondering if this was a trick question.

Mott slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the goblet.

Lynx jumped back, wishing for the umpteenth time she had her weapons.

The emperor reacted by angling his dagger toward her heart. "Since you  don't appear to have an answer, I'll tell you. You're here for one  reason only: to secure the Chenayan succession or, in words a low-born  Norin like you might understand, to produce a son."                       
       
           



       

Lynx flushed, and her fists clenched, all fear driven out by anger. It  was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go hang himself, but the  dagger was a major deterrent. That didn't stop her eyes from narrowing.

"Still full of Norin defiance, I see. Well, I'll soon knock that out of  you." Mott heaved himself up and moved in close. "I've watched you since  your arrival here, and I'm not happy. At dinner, it was clear you have  little interest in the Crown Prince of Chenaya."

"If I'm just a defiant low-born Norin, why do you even want me for your crown prince?"

Dagger in hand, Mott used his other to touch her face. His clammy  fingers pressed a line down her cheek, pinching her lips. "My, you are a  wild one. I'm almost tempted to keep you myself."

She flinched and tried to pull back.

He laughed, and his grip on her mouth tightened, yanking it out of  shape. "But it's not more bastards I need, so I suggest you overcome  your squeamishness"-his smile turned ugly-"because if you don't make me a  happy announcement of a pregnancy within three months of your marriage,  I'll send my guardsmen stationed at Tanamre to bring me your father's  head on a pike."

"No!" Lynx cried out, before suppressing the shock Mott's words induced.

"And that's how we welcome guests to the Heartland," a low voice  interrupted. A frail, gaunt man stepped into the room. A large ruby was  the only color in his waxy face.

"Felix." Mott's hand dropped from her face, and from his gruff tone, she  deduced he was unhappy with the intrusion. Then, he laughed as Lynx  stared shamelessly at Felix's almost corpse-like features. "Girl, meet  my little brother, Count Felix Avanov, Lord of the Chenayan Household.  And father of the brilliant General Axel Avanov."

Lynx gaped; apart from the ruby, there was no possible resemblance  between this waxy, shriveled creature and Axel. It wasn't hard to  imagine him reading her uncle's letters.