Rebel's Honor(61)

"I am not at liberty to divulge that information," the spokeswoman said. "Now, Your Highness, please, the food is getting cold."

"Don't you have braziers in the palace for keeping food warm?"

Was this Mott's retaliation for hitting Lukan? Sending priestesses here  to lure her to some awful fate? Her mind flitted to her unfinished  letter, but she rejected that as a cause-she hadn't started writing the  section on the Chenayan technology yet.

The spokeswoman gestured to one of her companions. The girl, no older  than a teen, lunged. In the same instant, Lynx wrenched the tieback off  the curtain and swung the cord before her. It seemed no deterrent to the  priestess, who thrust her hand at Lynx. Swirling the cord, Lynx struck  the girl on the temple with the crystal ornament. She dropped.

In a whirl of white, the other three women swarmed Lynx, shockers  grasping for her bare flesh. Lynx flailed the tieback from left to  right, hitting her targets. Grunts and moans resounded, but even as she  fought, the odds were against her. It was only a matter of time before  one of them got in close enough to fry her.

When the shock came, it was nowhere near as painful as when the  she-witch had attacked her. Still, it was enough to stun. She crumpled  back against the dressing room wall.

When she came to, her hands were bound in front of her with strong  cords, and a priestess flanked her on either side, bare fingers pressed  into her arms.

Face strained with anger, the spokeswoman said, "That was not how we  hoped this would go, Your Highness, but you left us no choice."

"No," Lynx snarled, tugging at her constraints. "You left me with no  choice." She looked down at the girl she had struck on the temple.

The spokeswoman glanced at her, too. "I'll fix the curtains," she said  to the other priestesses. "Silvana, help Alina, and then everyone back  to the cloisters."

With just enough pain blasting her arms to disorient, but not to  debilitate, Lynx had no choice but to follow the priestesses. It was a  long walk through deserted passages and hallways to the cloisters,  located on the farthest reaches of the palace. Mother Saskia waited at  the first colonnade. Refusing to show pain or fear, Lynx fixed a haughty  expression on her face.

"Dragon's curses! What happened? Why are the princess's hands bound?" the she-witch demanded.

"She did not wish to join us," the spokeswoman replied at the exact  moment Lynx said, "Chenayan hospitality! I suppose you now plan to  poison me?"

Mother Saskia tsked. "What happened to Alina?"

The spokeswoman glared at Lynx. "She hit her with a crystal bauble."

"I warned you all to be careful of Princess Lynx. Now go to your cells."

Without protest, the priestesses slunk away. Mother Saskia clearly ruled  her cloister with absolute control. The priestess moved purposefully  toward her. Lynx stiffened, but Saskia gently took Lynx's arm.

"Dinner is served."

"Am I supposed to eat with my hands tied together?" Lynx demanded.

"That will be taken care of when I am convinced you are no longer a threat."

"Winds, you'll wait a long time for that."

The she-witch smiled. She led Lynx into a tiny cell with space for a  single bed and a narrow closet. A fresh candle, the only lighting,  waited on a crude wooden table, illuminating a steaming clay bowl of  soup and a few chunks of coarse bread. A chamber pot stood in the  opposite corner.                       
       
           



       

Mother Saskia gestured to the food. "Priestess rations. I make it a rule  that no one in this cloister eats better than the average low-born  living in any hovel in Cian."

Lynx was impressed, but she wouldn't let it show.

Mother Saskia closed the wooden door, locking it with a chunky key. "Sit, Princess Lynx. We have a long night before us."

It seemed childish to argue, so Lynx obeyed, sitting on the edge of the hard, narrow mattress.

"Your wrists, please." Mother Saskia drew a stumpy dagger from her  pocket, the same one she'd use to slash through Lynx's braid, and sliced  through the bindings.

"Why are you holding me prisoner?"

The wooden bed creaked as Mother Saskia sat next to her. "I told you,  Princess Lynx, there is no place in Chenaya for powerful women. We all  need allies if we are to survive. Today, an unlikely ally came to my  rescue moments before I was flung onto a train bound for Galec Prison  Camp. That ally informed me that I was to keep you isolated until the  wedding tomorrow." She looked down at her hands. "I am in no position to  disobey."

Lynx's pulse raced. "And who would that ally be?"

"The Lord of the Household."

Count Felix? Why would he save Mother Saskia? Lynx wished she understood  the politics better. She was about to question when the priestess  spoke.

"You will find your allies, too, Princess, and when you do, the powers that rule us will all scurry for cover."

It was the bitterness in Mother Saskia's voice, even more than her  words, that left Lynx speechless. Finally, she gasped, "And which side  will you be on?"

Without looking at her, the priestess said, so softly Lynx could barely  hear her, "My brother died in Treven. His life wasted, for what? Today,  after a lifetime of loyal service, I was almost sent to my death at  Galec Prison Camp. One failure, one miserable failure that I wasn't even  accountable for, that's all it took, and the emperor was ready to cast  me off." Mother Saskia stood and opened the door, stopping on the  threshold. "I think you're smart enough to figure out your own answers,  Princess."

Lynx sat in stunned silence as the priestess closed and locked the door  behind her. How much of Mother Saskia's commentary on the train had been  for the benefit of the cameras? Lynx had no idea, but that wasn't her  highest priority.

She had told Axel she would marry him.

She shook her head in disbelief. Axel: a Chenayan, an Avanov, the man  who had commanded his troops to kill Hare and so many of her people. It  was inconceivable.

But it was true.

Despite everything, she wanted Axel with a longing so painful she could  barely breathe. In the short time she'd known him, he'd conquered her  heart as surely as Thurban had conquered Norin. And there was nothing  she could do about it.

Her pulse sped up. He wanted her, too. Enough to kill for her. Was what  they had love? It had to be. Nothing else could simultaneously feel so  good and so bad.

A troubling thought niggled at her conscience. Should she even be  thinking about marrying Axel when Cricket had made it so clear that  choosing him would lead to the failure of the Dmitri Curse? Then again,  could she trust Cricket? The meeting had been so cryptic, so garbled.

And what about her oath?

Her chest locked as if the Winds themselves had sucked all the air from  her lungs. How could she have said yes to Axel when she had sworn a vow  to her father?

Lynx sprang to her feet and paced the tiny cell, her quick steps as  frenzied as her thoughts. Would her father understand? If she could  explain it all to him . . .

How she wished to be back home, where everything was so simple, so  clear. Tomorrow would be such a special day in Norin, with four youths,  her own brother included, raiding eggs. She would have taken her turn,  playing her fiddle at the celebration party when Clay took his rightful  place amongst the raiders. Then, she and Heron would have danced-the  wild, exuberant dances she loved.

But instead, she was locked in a cloister, facing an uncertain future, torn between love and honor.

Cricket's words, emblazoned on her brain, rang back at her. The only way  you, Lynx of Norin, will ever help fulfill the Dmitri Curse is to  relinquish Axel and to marry Lukan. But if you do, Nicholas's conception  will bring you nothing but pain.

To survive, you will need the strength, not of a soldier going into  battle with sword and axe, but of a warrior armed with nothing but honor  and a determination to win.

Knowing this, who will you choose, Axel or Lukan?

After the pain Lynx had experienced with the shattering mirrors, she wanted to scream that the choice was logical: Axel.

But logic had no place here.                       
       
           



       

She grabbed the spoon and began ladling the watery vegetable soup into  her mouth. But her stomached roiled, refusing to accept the food. She  slid down onto the floor and buried her face in her hands, unable to  stop the sobs that wracked her body.

At length, her breathing calmed.

It did not matter which god Cricket and Dmitri served, but Winds knew,  her course had been charted the moment Kestrel had crushed Clay's egg,  along with his hopes. Little had Lynx known how big the canvas onto  which she stepped was when she had made a simple promise to fight for  her brother's right to happiness.