Oria's Gambit (6 page)

Stung, he pushed to his feet. “I wouldn’t,”
he said far too loudly, and he was further abashed when she
flinched and took several steps back. He had to take a steadying
breath to lower his voice. “It’s not fair, Oria, that you judge me
based on fleeting thoughts and emotions. People think and feel many
things they don’t act on. That’s part of learning to be a decent
human being—knowing that there are dark yearnings in your heart and
being strong enough to recognize them as such and exert control.
Maybe your mind is this perfect, serene place and you don’t
understand the human struggle to be a better person, but I’m only a
man and a flawed one at that.”

She swayed, seeming shocked. “I am human,
Lonen.”

“You don’t always seem like it.”

“No?” She sounded surprised and … weary.
Sad and weary. “Regardless, I understand that struggle all too
well. Being flawed.”

“Maybe I’d know that if I could read your
mind, too. But if you couldn’t see so easily into my head, you
would have never known I harbored any such thoughts, however
temporary, to judge me so harshly for them.”

She nodded, folding her hands. “I apologize
for any offense. I did not mean to sit in judgment. I sense enough
of you to know your better nature. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have
taken this gambit. Still… this conversation has revealed much and
I’m growing more certain that it would not be a good idea for us to
marry.”

“Because of my sexual feelings for you?”
Might as well lay it all out there.

“All right, yes. That’s one reason. I’m
concerned by your insistence that you would not take other lovers.
I know men have … needs. It’s become obvious to me that yours
are quite strong.” She paused, a little breathless, as if
flustered. “You must understand that I’ll never be able to satisfy
them for you.”

He took the risk of moving closer to her,
fascinated that she continued with a conversation that clearly
discomfited her. She lifted her chin as he approached and visibly
steeled herself not to step back, so he stopped where he was.
“Women have needs, too, Oria.”

She tilted her head. “Do they? I’m not sure
it’s the same. Or perhaps it’s a difference between Báran and
Destrye.”

He couldn’t believe that. “You’ve never felt
anything at all sexual? Nothing—never wanted to be with a man or a
woman? Never have been with either?” He wasn’t sure if she was
playing coy, dumb, or was truly that innocent.
Or alien,
part of him cautioned.

“Same sex unions are frowned on in Bára—it
puts the magic balance off. And no.” Her voice sounded faint and he
imagined a blush stained her high, delicate cheekbones. “A Báran
priestess lies only with her husband.”

“And I will be your husband,” he couldn’t
help saying, edging closer, halting when she raised her palms.

“Not like that. If you can’t agree to that
part of the marriage, then we have to call it off.”

“And do what?” He curled his hands into fists
of frustration. “I need your help for Dru, you need to be married
and made queen to do it.”

“I could marry your brother,” she insisted.
“He would have the same freedom I offered you. I would never impose
on him or interfere with his life.”

“He’s not here, which thwarts your need for
speedy action.”

“A marriage by proxy then. You could command
it and the council and temple will abide. The ritual magic knows no
physical distance.”

He rather enjoyed debating with her,
especially when she forgot to be poised and starting sounding
fierce. He’d never be able to step aside and let Arnon have her. Or
any man. “Same distance problem in getting him to agree, however.
How could I send and receive messages in a short time? It might
take considerable explanation and debate.”

She flung up a hand. “I don’t know. Can’t you
simply do it and tell him later? You’re the king.”

He could, yes, though Arnon would make the
rest of his days a misery. “Not happening,” he said, instead.
“There is no way I’m standing by while you marry another man. You
proposed to me and I accepted. I won’t allow you to back out.”

“You won’t allow me.” Her voice had gone
lethally chill. Something swirled in the air around him that
reminded him of the sorcerer’s magic on the battlefield. Her slim
body had gone tense as a plucked bow string and he wondered, far
from the first time, what form her magic took. Shards of ice,
perhaps, instead of fireballs. “How, exactly, do you plan to
enforce that edict?” She asked softly, in clear warning.

He leaned in. She was scary, all right, but
he found her impossibly titillating at the same time. He’d totally
lost his mind, but it seemed to matter less and less. “By invoking
right of ancient law. As you noted, Bára and everything in it
belongs to me.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.

“I won’t have to,” he returned, “because
you’re far too intelligent, noble, and rational to be stubborn for
the wrong reasons. I’m right here, willing and able to marry you,
I’ll agree to a marriage in name only, with the caveat that we’ll
revisit if you change your mind about that aspect in the future.
The rest is details. Done.”

O
ria struggled to find a
reply to that, but she’d dug herself too deep into a dune and the
sands of cascading reactions showered down on her, threatening to
bury her in her own conniving.

She was too new at this maneuvering—in
politics and with a man. Particularly this man.

“
I warned you he would not be easily
led.”
Chuffta’s mind-voice at least held a note of concern. Any
smugness to his ‘I told you so’ might have pushed her over the
edge. As it was, the male grien magic she shouldn’t possess—except
in a quiet ladylike seed—thrummed with the need to escape,
preferably to knock the cocksure Destrye warrior off his feet.
Allow
her, indeed.

“It’s not a question of changing my mind
about sex,” she gritted out. “That is not under my control.”

Lonen held up hands in mock surrender. “All
right then. Why are we even fighting about this?”

She didn’t even know—she’d lost track of the
entire argument. The man did things to her. Mixed her up. Made her
want things she couldn’t have and certainly didn’t have the luxury
of wanting, with so many more pressing matters. That potent
sexuality of his made it difficult to think clearly. And he called
her rational and intelligent. Ha! She took a step back, giving
herself relief from his stimulating presence, but lifted her chin,
lest he think he’d cowed her. “Probably because you’re wrong; I am
frequently stubborn for the wrong reasons.”

A grin broke across his face, his great good
humor also—thankfully—cutting that sexual tension that had swamped
her. It seemed that, as he triggered the response in her, she did
likewise to him. They were fools to be doing this to
themselves.

“So, what was your other reason?” He
asked.

“For being stubborn?”

“No.” He waved that off, going back to the
food platter and taking the last item on it—a bowl of greens he
grimaced at but efficiently spooned into his mouth and chewed. “You
said you had several self-serving reasons for insisting it be me
you married, but you only listed two.”

“With many parts.”

“None of them really self-serving,
however.”

“
You should tell him,”
Chuffta
counseled.
“It will cost you nothing and will ease things
between you.”

“
Nothing but my pride,”
she retorted,
but her Familiar only laughed at her. “Should I send for more food?
I tasked the hunters to get meat for you, but it will take some
time.”

“I know—Bero gave me your message.” Amusement
sparkled from him and he set aside the empty bowl, wiping his hands
on the drying cloth and sauntering towards her. “And now I know
there’s definitely another reason because you’re ducking the
question.”

“You don’t know any such thing.”

“Oh yes, I do. You change the subject when
any of my questions come too close to what you’d prefer to keep
hidden.”

“That seems impossible for you to keep track
of as you ask a great many questions.”

“Yes, I do.” He nodded, his attention intent
on her. “And I’ll continue to do so. You might keep your face and
body hidden from me, but I’ll find other ways to get inside you.
Whether you are my enemy or my lover, I’m better off knowing
everything about you.”

The words, part promise, part threat, made
her catch her breath. “I don’t have to answer any of your
questions. Especially if I’m your enemy.”

“Oria.” He lifted a hand, as if he might
touch her, but hovered it near her cheek, his gaze wandering over
her mask, before he lowered it again. “You asked me to be your
husband so I can help you with your problems and you can help with
mine. The whole point of this effort is to combine forces, to be
partners, allies, maybe even friends, if not lovers. There’s no
reason to treat me like an enemy to be shut out.”

“Then why did you say that?”

“To put it out there. We both know we dance a
fine line. Let’s be clear about it, if only between us.”

She closed her eyes, though it didn’t help
her not see him, feel him in and around her. It was too late to
avoid that intimate invasion. Her sgath seemed to flow toward him
of its own accord. If only her mother could advise her on this.
“The truly self-serving reason is that, if I can’t be married to—to
have a temple-blessed marriage, then at least I’d be married to
someone I…”

“That you what?” he prompted, when she paused
too long. He had that avid feel to him, like Chuffta when he
hunted.

Pursing her lips and blowing out a breath,
she stepped back. “Someone I don’t abhor.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what you
started to say.”

“Well, it’s what I decided to say.”

“Uh-huh. Do you know that I dreamed about
you?”

He had a knack of doing that—disrupting the
flow of her thoughts, taking her by surprise, and destabilizing her
hwil
. “No,” she replied, face hot under the mask. It was
really too steamy in the baths to be wearing it. That and her
priestess robes. “Why would I know that?”

“You’re a sorceress. I figured one of your
magic tricks might be to send me dreams.” A bit of tension filled
his voice. Enough uncertainty that she decided not to ask what the
dreams involved. She’d had plenty of her own about him, and if his
were anything like hers…

“No. It most assuredly is not.” She folded
her hands, then felt too prim, and dropped them. “Now, if we can
discuss—”

“If you didn’t send them, then I had them
because I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” he interrupted, though
his voice was quiet. “I think you were about to say at least you’d
be married to someone you’re attracted to—and I’m saying I’m
attracted to you, too, Oria.”

“I know that,” she snapped, so thoroughly
unsettled that she missed denying that’s what she’d been thinking.
“I can feel it.”

“What does it feel like?” He didn’t come
closer, but his energy intensified so much that it expanded to flow
over her, almost overwhelming. Also addicting, like being warmed by
a sun that never burned.

“I just—Lonen—can we please drop this topic
and discuss next steps? I’ve arranged to meet with my mother, to
discuss this plan with her. If we’re going to go ahead with this, I
must go now.”

“You have to schedule time with her?”

“She’s … not well. My father’s death was
very hard on her. Her health is tenuous and my window of
opportunity narrow because of it.”

His warmth chilled. “We all lost a lot of
people we loved.”

“I know. Believe me—” She couldn’t think
about it. Her father dead. Ben and his sweet smile gone forever.
Nat. Her lady-in-waiting. Her faithful guard. She couldn’t count
all the deaths and the misery they’d left in their wakes. “This is
another thing that’s difficult to explain to an outsider, but my
father and mother shared a special bond. Her grief is no greater
than anyone’s, but losing him caused her … damage.”

Lonen looked thoughtful. “Did they have one
of these temple-blessed marriages—ideal mates?”

A warrior of such skill shouldn’t be so
clever, too. It simply wasn’t fair. “Yes,” she admitted. “And
that’s all I’m saying about it.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t keep asking.” He
grinned and she realized she’d made a huff of frustration. “Okay,
you’ll explain your plan to her and then what?”

“If she approves, she’ll approach the temple
and we can be married as soon as tonight, and begin proceedings
with the council to make me queen, in case Yar returns sooner than
I expect.” And so she could begin her research into the Trom and be
ready to wrest control from him.

“
I cannot stress enough how much you
should not hasten that step, at the peril of not only your sanity,
but the wellbeing of us all.”
Chuffta’s mind-voice held unusual
sternness, but she ignored him, focusing on convincing Lonen to
stop his games and think about the tasks immediately before
them.

“And if she doesn’t approve?” he was
asking.

“Then we’ll have to go with the plan of you
throwing your weight around. But it would be smoother with her
help.”

“Makes sense.”

“Tomorrow the council meets. I’ll petition
them to ratify us as king and queen. Once we have the marriage in
place, you and I can plan our strategy with the council, if that’s
all right with you.”

“Sounds good.” He picked up his axe, the
dense iron double-bladed head like a hole in her sgath vision.
“Let’s go.”

“You’re … coming with me?”

He grinned at her. “Of course. We’re doing
this together. Partners.
We
have a fight on our hands—not
just you.”

“We’re not married yet.”