“Mistress Ellarta let me go early, as I have already learned today’s lesson.” The magic strained against the tight leash she’d put on it, making her tongue sharper than intended. “And you would do well not to refer to me as though I were achild.”
“Why not?” Marilla asked. “You certainly act like one.” She raked a sneer over Tariel, taking in her comparatively modest gown. As an unwanted ward, Tariel was given very basic dresses to wear, while Marilla was always dressed in the finest outfits Lady Tyrook, and now her husband, could afford. “Perhaps if you weren’t so selfish and willful, you might be married already. At the rate you’re going, I’d say you’re destined to grow old as aspinster.”
“It isn’t my fault that the queen keeps rejecting every marriage proposal that comes my way,” Tariel retorted before she could stop herself. “I would have been married long before you if your mother had anything to say aboutit.”
Marilla snorted. “I’d say it’s more like those men came to their senses once they realized they were about to mix heathen blood into their family,” she said. “You are fortunate my mother continues to foster you as a favor to the queen, but do not expect your luck to hold. The queen’s health is failing, and once she has passed, there will be no one left to object to whatever we decide to do withyou.”
Tariel bit back the scathing barb that sprang to her lips and pushed past Marilla up the stairs. The woman’s mocking laughter echoed up the staircase, and icy shivers ran down Tariel’s spine as she hurried on herway.
Tariel knew she shouldn’t get so worked up over Marilla’s behavior, and if not for her headache, she would have never let the woman’s words bother her. She knew why Marilla hated her so—it was the same reason every woman in the castle despised her on some level or another. Her dark, exotic looks and petite, curvy frame drew the attention of nearly every man, sometimes to the point of obsession. Marilla’s own husband, Lord Poltan of Sansmere, had been one of those men—madly in love with Tariel, or at least the idea of her. He had asked for her hand three years ago, the moment Tariel was of age to marry, and had only married Marilla when his suit wasrefused.
Tariel sighed. She had quite liked Lord Poltan, though he was a bit boring. But he was fine enough to look upon, and his sizeable estate was more than sufficient to care for her needs. She would have been content living with him at Sansmere Manor, overseeing the household and bearing his children, had she been allowed tomarry.
However, marriage was a prize that seemed forever out of reach. Good looks and charm were not enough to ensnare a favorable match when one needed the queen’s approval to marry, and so far, Queen Relissa had refused every suitor who had attempted to claim Tariel. She’d had quite a few over the years too—at least a dozen she knew about, and probably many more she did not. Tariel wished she knew the reason behind the queen’s steadfast refusals; many of her suitors were respectable men, and amongst those who were not titled were at least men who had the wealth to support her. She knew Lady Tyrook was just as frustrated—the woman had been trying to get rid of her for ages, and the fact that she could not offload Tariel onto an eager husband had to be infuriating. She could only hope that when the queen finally passed, the next suitor who came calling would be a decentman.
When Tariel finally flung open the door to her tower room, she headed straight to the chest at the foot of the bed and fished out one of the glass bottles. Popping out the cork, she put the cool glass to her lips and downed half the bottle in one go. Within a few seconds, the pressure around her temples eased to something moremanageable.
Even so, she still felt dizzy, and she was forced to lie down on her bed. Closing her eyes against the pounding, she bemoaned her lack of self-control. Why had she allowed Mistress Ellarta’s words to affect her so? Tariel knew that if she could control her anger, her magic would not react so quickly, but she had always had such a hard time reining in hertemper.
You could always use your magic, the voice of her subconscious whispered.A simple illusion spell would get rid of yourheadache.
The very thought made Tariel’s fingertips hum with power, and she quickly clenched her hand into a fist to squash it. Her headache increased, and she groaned aloud, squirming indiscomfort.
She could not use her magic, no matter the cost. Not when she had resolved to be the quiet, dutiful girl that Lady Tyrook and the queen wanted her to be. Indulging in these wicked abilities of hers would only invite more trouble, and the last thing she needed was for Lady Tyrook to discover her magic before she’d been married off. If only she could get rid of her magic, life would be so mucheasier…
Get rid of it?a scathing voice whispered in her head.A man’s life might be easier if he got rid of his manhood, but he would punch anyone who dared suggest such a thing. Why should you be anydifferent?
Tariel gritted her teeth and shut the voice out before it tempted her into indulging in wickedness. It was just like something Zolotais, the spirit who lived in the attic, would say, and her gaze turned to the ceiling. She had not been up to the attic room to speak to Zolotais in over a year, not since the terrible quarrel that had driven her to shun magiccompletely.
Part of her wanted to put aside this silly notion that she could actually become a proper Fjordland girl and climb to the attic to speak with her old friend again. But the cautious part of her knew that nothing good could come of consorting withspirits.
No, the best thing to do was keep her head down and try not to let her magic get the better of her again. If she could just keep up her good behavior for a little while longer, she might actually marry and escape this forsaken place. Giving in to her compulsion to practice magic would only send her down a path that ended in death, and the last thing Tariel wanted was to end her life in pain and fire before it had evenbegun.
2
Hours after morning practice,Riann found himself walking in the small orchard behind the castle, as he often did after his midday meal. He found his daily stroll to be calming, and on most days, it helped him order histhoughts.
But today, he could find no serenity beneath the boughs of the apple trees. His mind was still on Tariel, as it had been from the moment she’d walked into the courtyard and ensnared him with that bright, stunning gaze ofhers.
The wound in his arm smarted at the reminder of what had happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry about it. He could never be angry at Tariel, no matter what she did. Had she really come to the courtyard to watch him fight, after avoiding him for nearly two yearsnow?
“Riann?” a soft voice said, and he spun around. The sight of Tariel standing behind him blindsided him completely, and for a second, all he could do was stare. She was easily the most beautiful woman in the castle, with her midnight hair, blue topaz eyes, and smooth, creamy skin the color of almonds. The dress she wore was of simple cotton, but it flowed over her generously curved figure in a way that made Riann itch to take her into his arms as he did on that fateful evening so longago.
“Well this is a pleasant surprise.” He crossed his arms, ignoring the twinge of pain in his inner elbow. “First you came to visit me in the courtyard, and now here in the orchard. Shall I expect you at dinner as well?” He gave her a teasingsmile.
Tariel blushed. “I did not mean to get you injured,” she said, taking a step forward. She lifted her right arm, and Riann noticed the small pouch she clutched in her delicate hand. “I thought perhaps I could tend to your wound to make up for myoversight.”
Riann clenched his jaw as a wave of desire rippled through him. The thought of Tariel touching his bare skin sent tingles racing through him, and he could already feel his cock begin toharden.
Tariel mistook his reaction and backed up a step. “I did not mean anyoffense—”
He caught her by the wrist before she could continue her retreat. “No offense taken,” he said gently. “Come, you can tend to me overhere.”
Riann led Tariel to a bench in the shadows, where they could not be seen from the castle. As Tariel sat down next to him, the wind played in her hair, bringing him the scent of lilacs and sunshine. He forced himself to hold very still as she rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and exposed the hastily appliedbandage.
“Tsk, tsk.” Tariel clucked her tongue as she peeled it off. “They didn’t even apply a poultice. Thankfully, it is not as bad as itlooked.”
“I got lucky,” Riann said as she cleaned and dressed the wound using fresh supplies she’d brought in her pouch. The sensation of her soft fingers against his skin did strange and wonderful things to him, and he had to shift in his seat to hide the evidence of his arousal from her. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman, but even if he’d rolled in the hay yesterday his reaction would be the same today. Tariel had always had a powerful effect onhim.
