He threw the parchment on the table and stalked away to the window, standing and staring out as he fought to regain his temper. Gods, but Askam and Zared gave him more trouble combined than Borneheld and Gorgrael had ever given his father, he was sure of it! How many times had he had to draw one or the other aside for some diplomatic advice? Between them they controlled half the territory of Tencendor – was it too much to ask of them to try and do that in something even vaguely resembling peace?
Zenith looked at WingRidge, who remained completely expressionless, then picked up the parchment and briefly scanned the contents herself. Her eyes widened as she slowly put it down – no wonder Caelum had reacted so strongly.
“Caelum?” she said, and waited for her brother to look at her.
“Caelum … this time something needs to be done to solve their problems. And Leagh, you must surely end her misery soon.” Although Zenith had not seen Leagh in some four years, they remained in close touch; Zenith not only knew how much Leagh hungered for Zared, she understood why Caelum and Askam were going to deny Leagh her heart’s desire. Poor Leagh, she thought, it’s time she was told to move on with her life. Five years of alternating between misery and gut-wrenching hope was too long for anyone.
Caelum nodded slowly, and rubbed his face with one hand. He suddenly looked very, very tired. “The time has come to solve this. Askam has gone too far with his debt – and Zared should have been astute enough in the first instance to know that a marriage between him and Leagh, especially with Bethiam remaining so stubbornly barren, would be a political impossibility.”
He drew a deep breath. “This needs not only my authority, but the weight of the Council of Five.”
Zenith’s eyes widened. The heads of the leading five families of Tencendor only met on a biennual basis; to call them in now, not eight months since their last meeting, bespoke how serious Caelum thought the problem was. As ruler of Tencendor, Caelum’s final word was law – legally he did not need to call the Council on this matter – but he obviously felt both Zared and Askam needed the judgment of their peers as well as his own word.
“WingRidge?”
WingRidge snapped to attention.
“Send couriers to Zared, Sa’Domai, FreeFall, Yllgaine and Askam. We meet with the utmost haste – no later than seventh-day three weeks from now. And send for Isfrael as well.”
Isfrael, now Mage-King of the Avar, was not officially a member of the Council of Five and did not have a vote, but for the past ten years he had attended all the meetings, and given and listened to advice. As Caelum’s half-brother and leader of one of Tencendor’s three main races, he was usually invited as a courtesy.
Besides, no-one particularly liked to make a decision in Isfrael’s absence that might subsequently annoy him.
As WingRidge put his hand to the doorknob, Caelum called him back. “No, wait. Leave Askam. I will send a personal courier rather than one of yours.”
WingRidge nodded, and was gone.
“Zenith?” Caelum smiled at his sister, although his eyes remained tired and careworn. “Why don’t you tell Askam?”
“Me? But –”
“The bridge can connect you to Spiredore easily enough, and from there it’s only a short flight across Grail Lake to Carlon.”
“But why me?”
“Because I think Leagh should be here as well. I need to tell her my decision, and I’d rather do it to her face than by courier bird. Don’t you want to see her? Bring them both back by Spiredore. Askam can send his escort north by more conventional means.”
“I don’t know that I want to leave –”
Caelum’s voice hardened into command. “You need to be more involved with Tencendor, Zenith. I am asking you to go, but if you wish I can make your departure slightly more compulsory.”
Zenith’s chin tilted up, and in that movement Caelum saw all of his mother’s fire and determination. “As you wish, brother. I shall leave before sunrise.”
And with a slight but noticeable twitch of her shoulders, she brushed past him and left the room.
4 Beggars on the Floor, Travellers O’er the Bridge
She preened before the mirror in her chamber, running her hands down her lightly clad body, liking what she saw, what she felt. RiverStar SunSoar was a lovely, alluring birdwoman, and she knew it. What man had ever been able to resist her?
She lifted her hands to her fine golden curls and shook them out. How they complemented her violet eyes! Her pale skin!
“I am irresistible,” she said, then laughed, low and husky.
Irresistible indeed – except to the one who continually resisted her.
She froze at a subtle touch. Power.
His. It stroked at her arms, lifted the material from her breasts, rippled down over her belly, her legs.
Her lover. He was close.
She did not move, pretending not to notice. She would make him beg. She would!
Except he never begged. Always she ended on the floor before him, her hands clinging to his legs, her golden wings spread out in appeal behind her, begging him to bed her.
She would writhe before him, sobbing and shrieking, until he had her so completely in his power that she would scream her gratitude when he finally lifted her and threw her to the mattress.
RiverStar frowned at her reflection. She did not like to have to beg … but, oh gods, how could she withstand him when his power stroked her, caressed her, penetrated her?
As it did now. She shuddered, tears filling her eyes, and when he opened the door and entered the chamber she fell to the floor and begged, begged, begged …
“You are unlike any other,” she whispered into his ear when it was finally done and they lay sweat-tangled amid the sheets. “None.”
“I was made for a purpose,” he said, smiling, and kissed her brow.
“Let me stand by your side as your lover,” she said. “Please. Let all see how good we are together.”
“No.”
“Why not?” she screamed, hate for him contorting her beautiful face. “Why not? You can do anything you –”
His hand caught at her face, his fingers digging deep, hurting so badly she whimpered.
“You will tell no-one about us,” he hissed. “No-one! Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she whispered. “I will tell no-one. Never tell. No. Please, love me again. Please … please … please …”
Zenith stopped in her chambers to change into a vivid robe and to give her face and hair a cursory check in her mirror. Caelum was right, it was time she left Sigholt for a while. She’d been thinking much the same thing – thus her reaction when Caelum had verbalised the unspoken thoughts that had consumed her for almost a week.
Something was wrong. She couldn’t say what, or even what it might be related to, only that for the past few days a feeling of formless dread had been growing in her. Dread, and a sense of loss so deep that for three nights in a row she’d woken drenched in sweat, her hands clawing at the sheets.
Thus