Read Online Dreams Made Flesh by Anne Bishop - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne Bishop
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weak and woozy to take in anything except that signing would let her stay. And when Luthvian had implied that staying or being sent back to Terreille rested on her decision…
"What do I have to do?" Marian asked.
Jaenelle shrugged. "Service in the Eighth Circle? A meal once in a while when I'm staying at my cottage in Ebon Rih would cover the requirements."
A meal. Would Jaenelle supply the food for her to cook, or would she be expected to provide it? How would she provide it? "Where are we going?"
Now Jaenelle smiled. "Your skills really are required elsewhere. I know someone who needs a housekeeper."
Marian relaxed a little. If wages were included as well as room and board, she could fulfill her obligation to the Lady's court.
Jaenelle looked up at the sky and winced. "Come on. We'd better ride the Winds and get there. If I'm late getting back to the Hall, Papa will give me that patient look. I really hate that patient look…especially when I deserve it."
Before Marian could wrap her mind around the idea that the Queen of Ebon Askavi had a papa who would dare criticize her, even if it was just with a look, Jaenelle took her hand and launched both of them onto the Purple Dusk Wind.
A few minutes later, they dropped from the Winds and landed on a flagstone courtyard in front of an eyrie. Marian winced when she saw the rock-strewn, overgrown mess on one side of the eyrie, but she didn't have time to decide if it had once been a garden or had always been a wild, overgrown tangle before Jaenelle opened the door without knocking and pulled her inside.
"Lucivar!"Jaenelle called.
A sharp whistle came from another room in the eyrie.
Lucivar? Fear rushed back into Marian as Jaenelle pulled her toward the archway on one side of the big empty room.
"I thought you…" a male voice said.
One last tug and Marian was in the kitchen facing an Eyrien male. A Warlord Prince. Who wore Ebon-gray Jewels.
The room spun. Her knees weakened. Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. Not him. Please, not him.
"Marian," Jaenelle said, "this is Lucivar Yaslana, the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih.
Lucivar, this is Marian…your newhousekeeper."
No. No no no. She'd heard of Lucivar Yaslana. Who in Askavi hadn't heard of Lucivar Yaslana, even though it had been centuries since he'd actually lived in Askavi. He was Luthvian's son? The ruler of Ebon Rih? She couldn't possibly stay here. She couldn't. When Luthvian complained to him about her leaving… He could do anything he wanted to her and no one would mutter a word. Warlord Princes were a law unto themselves. Even in Terreille the ones who weren't kept on a tight chain were treated cautiously, and everyone knew the rules that applied to every other male didn't apply to them. Couldn't apply to them.
"Lady Marian," he said.
Had she already done something wrong? Was he already angry with her? She couldn't stay here.
Jaenelle huffed. "I'm sorry. I really have to go." Her hand brushed Marian's shoulder. "I'll be back in a day or two to see how you're doing."
Then she was gone, and Marian was left facing a man who, even doing nothing, was a hundred times more dangerous than the five Warlords who had tried to kill her.
"Why don't you sit down?" Lucivar said, tipping his head to indicate the nearest of four chairs that were on either side of a large pine table.
Not knowing what else do to, Marian pulled out the chair and sat down.
"Would you like some coffee?" he asked.
She nodded, but kept her eyes focused on the table. She flinched when he set a white mug in front of her, but he stepped back, putting enough distance between them that she could breathe again.
"Did my sister explain anything on the way here?"
Startled, Marian looked up. "Sister?" Luthvian hadn't mentioned a daughter.
"Jaenelle," Lucivar said. "She's my sister."
That should have been comforting. It wasn't. But there was one thing she had to know. "Does anyone else live here?"
"Tassle lives with
"What do I have to do?" Marian asked.
Jaenelle shrugged. "Service in the Eighth Circle? A meal once in a while when I'm staying at my cottage in Ebon Rih would cover the requirements."
A meal. Would Jaenelle supply the food for her to cook, or would she be expected to provide it? How would she provide it? "Where are we going?"
Now Jaenelle smiled. "Your skills really are required elsewhere. I know someone who needs a housekeeper."
Marian relaxed a little. If wages were included as well as room and board, she could fulfill her obligation to the Lady's court.
Jaenelle looked up at the sky and winced. "Come on. We'd better ride the Winds and get there. If I'm late getting back to the Hall, Papa will give me that patient look. I really hate that patient look…especially when I deserve it."
Before Marian could wrap her mind around the idea that the Queen of Ebon Askavi had a papa who would dare criticize her, even if it was just with a look, Jaenelle took her hand and launched both of them onto the Purple Dusk Wind.
A few minutes later, they dropped from the Winds and landed on a flagstone courtyard in front of an eyrie. Marian winced when she saw the rock-strewn, overgrown mess on one side of the eyrie, but she didn't have time to decide if it had once been a garden or had always been a wild, overgrown tangle before Jaenelle opened the door without knocking and pulled her inside.
"Lucivar!"Jaenelle called.
A sharp whistle came from another room in the eyrie.
Lucivar? Fear rushed back into Marian as Jaenelle pulled her toward the archway on one side of the big empty room.
"I thought you…" a male voice said.
One last tug and Marian was in the kitchen facing an Eyrien male. A Warlord Prince. Who wore Ebon-gray Jewels.
The room spun. Her knees weakened. Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. Not him. Please, not him.
"Marian," Jaenelle said, "this is Lucivar Yaslana, the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih.
Lucivar, this is Marian…your newhousekeeper."
No. No no no. She'd heard of Lucivar Yaslana. Who in Askavi hadn't heard of Lucivar Yaslana, even though it had been centuries since he'd actually lived in Askavi. He was Luthvian's son? The ruler of Ebon Rih? She couldn't possibly stay here. She couldn't. When Luthvian complained to him about her leaving… He could do anything he wanted to her and no one would mutter a word. Warlord Princes were a law unto themselves. Even in Terreille the ones who weren't kept on a tight chain were treated cautiously, and everyone knew the rules that applied to every other male didn't apply to them. Couldn't apply to them.
"Lady Marian," he said.
Had she already done something wrong? Was he already angry with her? She couldn't stay here.
Jaenelle huffed. "I'm sorry. I really have to go." Her hand brushed Marian's shoulder. "I'll be back in a day or two to see how you're doing."
Then she was gone, and Marian was left facing a man who, even doing nothing, was a hundred times more dangerous than the five Warlords who had tried to kill her.
"Why don't you sit down?" Lucivar said, tipping his head to indicate the nearest of four chairs that were on either side of a large pine table.
Not knowing what else do to, Marian pulled out the chair and sat down.
"Would you like some coffee?" he asked.
She nodded, but kept her eyes focused on the table. She flinched when he set a white mug in front of her, but he stepped back, putting enough distance between them that she could breathe again.
"Did my sister explain anything on the way here?"
Startled, Marian looked up. "Sister?" Luthvian hadn't mentioned a daughter.
"Jaenelle," Lucivar said. "She's my sister."
That should have been comforting. It wasn't. But there was one thing she had to know. "Does anyone else live here?"
"Tassle lives with
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