Untouchable. Part 5

The soldier turned accusing eyes to Alix. "You had words with the princess last night, before she retired."

"I did." Words he barely remembered. The journey had been a trial, and was obviously taking its toll. "But if I wished to kill her, which I did not, I would not be so foolish as to leave my own dagger at the scene. Obviously someone took advantage of our disagreement last night and went to great pains to make it look as if I did the deed." But who? Yes, Edlyn had been disagreeable, but who in their traveling party would wish to do murder?

His eyes turned to Vyrn. Vyrn, who had brought him the cider before his unusually deep sleep. Vyrn, whom Sanura said had murder in his soul. She had warned him of the lurking violence, and he'd foolishly dismissed her concern.

One of the maids came bursting from the princess's tent. "Look!" she shouted, holding aloft a thin yellow blanket. "Only one among us wears this d.a.m.nable blue on her person." The girl turned tear-filled, hate-filled eyes to Sanura, who until this moment had watched wordlessly and without emotion. "Why would you kill her?"

"I did not," Sanura said, her eyes on the long, bright spot of blue which was stark against the yellow blanket.

It was Tari, the skinny red-haired maid, who stepped boldly forward. "They must've done the horrible deed together, " she said in a surprisingly loud voice. She wanted to make sure everyone heard her words. "I did not want to speak of their secrets, but the prince and the wh.o.r.e have been lovers for many weeks."

"We have not!" Alix insisted.

"I saw you go into her tent many times, sir," Tari said. She was too brave for a la.s.s who rarely opened her mouth in the presence of others. She was unusually confrontational for a plain, mousy maid. But he was without a weapon at the moment and she was surrounded by protective soldiers, so what was to stop her from speaking her mind-whether she spoke the truth or not?

How strange that while the other maids sobbed and held on to one another, Tari was dry-eyed and calm.

"I'm afraid I saw the same," Vyrn said in a solemn tone of voice. He pointed to Sanura with an accusing finger. "Just a few nights ago I saw the two of them meeting after the sun had set and the camp slept, but I thoughtlessly turned a blind eye because I felt loyalty to my prince. I had no idea my blind allegiance might lead to a tragedy like this."

Someone herded Sanura toward Alix, and the other members of the traveling party surrounded them accusingly. Alix heard the whispers, whispers not only from the Tryfynians but from his own sentinels as well. Two others besides Vyrn spoke of seeing Alix go into Sanura's tent, on one night, at least. They spoke about the fact that the two of them had taken to riding side by side.

Alix searched for a friendly face, but found none. The four sentinels who'd accompanied him on this journey were not those he'd fought with just a few years ago. They knew him only as a prince, a politician, the emperor's brother. Their respect was commanded, not earned. None of them would defend the murderer of a young girl, no matter how fractious she had been. Even Sanura's guards, who stood apart from the others, looked shocked at the events which were unfolding.

Sanura sidled up beside him. The music she always made with her movements remained, but on this morning her tune was touched with fear. Alix wanted to reach out and place his arm around her, but of course he could not. Not only did her blue make her untouchable, he did not need to add fuel to the fire which was presently blazing.

"How do we know this is not a trick?" The one sentinel who had apparently not seen him sneak into Sanura's tent asked his question in a calm voice. "How do we know the princess isn't sitting in her tent, laughing at this scene she created? The blood on the knife and the blanket might've come from an animal. She might've set all this up to have a bit of fun with us. You cannot say she is averse to making trouble of any sort." He nodded his head as if this explanation made more sense to him. Indeed it did, but Alix suspectedthis was no ghoulish prank, and nothing made any sense on this mad morning.

At the instruction of the eldest Tryfynian, a young soldier went into the tent where the murder had apparently taken place. He returned moments later with the princess in his arms. She was dressed in a white nightgown which was soaked in blood, as was much of her once fair hair. Her pale throat had been cut, and she was most definitely dead.

The sight of the dead princess only inflamed the crowd. The rumblings changed, they grew more insistent. There was talk of vengeance, of justice, of not waiting for a proper trial, which would surely be a travesty since one of the accused was the emperor's brother. The only question seemed to be about the method of execution: decapitation or hanging.

Sanura looked at him and whispered, "We must run."

Alix shook his head. "Evidence aside, there is no logic in these accusations, and as soon as a bit of time has pa.s.sed, the others will see it. When these men cool off, they'll listen to reason." He knew them. They had traveled together for many weeks, they had followed his command and would soon rein in their overwrought emotions.

"No, they will not," she insisted. "Paki and Kontar will try to protect me, but they care nothing about you, and even if they did, they have no chance against all these soldiers. They, too, will die. We will all die!"

"You're panicking, Sanura," Alix said calmly. "My sentinels will not turn against me. They're just upset about the princess's death, as we all should be. I can and will reason with them."

Sanura stamped her slippered foot and turned to face him. There was fear in her blue eyes, a deep fear such as he had never seen in her. "I want Trystan, now," she insisted.

He flinched at the unexpected sound of the name he'd used most of his life. "How do you know..." he began.

"Come, Trystan, come forth and save us," she whispered.She leaned closer and added, "Get us out of here, and I will give you what you most want."

Alix did not have to wonder what she spoke of. He knew very well what any man would most want from Sanura. His eyes were drawn to the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s even now. Something deep inside him twitched.

"When we are safe, I will wrap myself around you and give you pleasure you never knew was possible. We will be lovers, Trystan, lovers such as the world has never before known, and I will be yours and yours alone."

Why did she keep calling him Trystan? No one used that name anymore. His hands clenched into tight fists.

"Isn't that what you want? Do not lie to me, Trystan. I see what you want. I know who you are."

Alix heard the others claim that the murderous lovers were plotting something, and should be separated and restrained. He heard Sanura's words, her offers, and in response he felt suddenly dizzy. The skies turned an odd, dull gray. His knees wobbled.

And then he was gone.

SANURA knew the moment Alix left and Trystan emerged. His eyes went dark, and every muscle in his body tensed. He smiled.

"Please try not to kill anyone," she whispered.

"Why?" he asked, his voice as soft as her own.

"I will make it worth your while, I promise."

She knew what Trystan wanted most from her. Her body. Her complete surrender. He wanted to own her in the way his brother was meant to. His entire body stiffened at her promise. His eyes went impossibly darker, and she shuddered because for one long moment they were the eyes of a wild animal, not a man.

With her gift, Sanura felt the swelling, murderous intent of the crowd. Some were more intent on justice than others, but none could be called friend at the moment. Not one.

One among them laughed on the inside. It was Vyrn, who was very pleased with himself. Tari felt some regret for her part in this tragedy, but her love was stronger than her regret. The love Tari had found was so strong that Sanura had seen nothing else last night. She had certainly not seen treachery, even though it was now obvious that the tea had been drugged and Tari had taken a bit of the blue powder from the sacred box in order to point the finger at her, as well as at Alix.

Alix thought these men would listen to reason, but he did not feel what she felt, did not see what she saw. They were surrounded by hatred, anger, a need for vengeance which would not be quenched by any logic. Now that the shadows were at the surface, she expected Prince Alixandyr- Trystan-to do something which would save them.

She did not expect him to grab her and rake his beard-roughened cheek boldly and firmly against hers, but that's what he did. She struggled against the a.s.sault, but it was already too late. He held her in a firm grip, hands on her arms to hold her in place as he sc.r.a.ped his cheek over hers. It had been so long since she'd been touched that she held her breath and quivered. No one was meant to live without the touch of another human being, no matter how unwise and uncaring that touch might be.

When Trystan pulled away his stubbled face was smeared with blue. So were his hands, hands which had touched her briefly and unwisely as he'd pressed their faces together. His grin and the touch condemned them.

"What have you done?" she whispered.

Paki and Kontar stepped forward, their every movement slow but determined. They drew the short, curved, very sharp swords they had carried from Claennis and lifted the blades in a threatening way. The soldiers and sentinels watched, stunned by their prince's actions and the immediate response of the foreigners who were usually so quiet and un.o.btrusive.

Trystan reacted immediately. Instead of moving away from the two guards, he surged toward them. Determined as they were, they were surprised at the swiftness of his movements, at the laughter. They were then shocked at the accuracy with which the prince disarmed them and took the weapons they wielded.

The forbidden touch had not been foolish after all. Her guards were not as practiced as the soldiers and sentinels among them. The appearance of Paki and Kontar, their size, and their evident willingness to do what was necessary were enough to keep men at a distance. They had never been called upon to use their skills, because no one who did not own her had ever dared to touch her. Their presence was more ceremonial than truly threatening. Over the years they had grown careless-and Trystan had seen that in them. He'd disarmed them easily, and now gripped their swords with confidence, one in each hand, as he faced the others.

"The lady and I will be leaving. You!"-he nodded to the nearest sentinel-"ready my horse."

"I . . . I don't know..." The young man looked to Vyrn. Trystan responded by placing the tip of the curved blade at the sentinel's throat. "You do not turn to him for direction, boy. I suggest you turn to me. I will have my dagger, too, and your own sword, if you please. Oddly enough, mine has gone missing."

Vyrn nodded, and the young sentinel ran to do as he was told.

Trystan faced them all like a madman, a sword in each hand, a wicked smile on his face. If any among them had had doubts that he was capable of murder, they were now gone. "The lady and I are going to leave this inhospitable party. I suggest you do not give chase."

They would, Sanura knew. The men here would leave the women behind and pursue the supposed murderers as soon as possible. At the moment, however, none wished to face the blades Trystan wielded. None wished to face the insanely grinning man who looked as if he were not only willing but eager for a fight.

None but one, apparently, as an incensed Tryfynian guard drew his sword and ran forward. Trystan was ready to do battle, but Sanura reminded him, "Do not kill him. Remember my promise."

Trystan seemed a bit disappointed, but he did listen to her. He defended himself with two Claennis swords, meeting the soldier's metal with expertly brandished blades. Trystan was faster than the soldier, he seemed to know how and when his opponent would strike. There was no contest. Trystan defended himself and then, with a skilled twist, sent the opposing weapon to the ground. He could've run the young soldier through with his blades, and likely would've, if not for Sanura's promise. Instead of killing his opponent he deliberately scratched the Tryfynian's arm before kicking the sword aside. "Anyone else?" he asked tersely as the sentinel came near with his saddled horse.

Trystan easily mounted the horse, but the sheaths built for his long, narrow swords would not accommodate the broader bladed and curved weapons he had taken from Paki and Kontar. After he had the sentinel's surrendered sword and his own dagger, a dagger still stained with the princess's blood, in his possession, he threw the Claennis swords. They flew end over end and then landed as he'd intended, their blades buried deep in the ground. That done, he offered his hand to Sanura. No one ever touched her, no one a.s.sisted her this way, but it was already too late. He was stained with blue, and her face burned with the memory of his rough morning beard. She took his hand, and he gripped hers tightly.

"Did you kill her, m'lord?" the young sentinel who had delivered the horse and surrendered his sword asked as Trystan lifted Sanura and deposited her in front of him. "Did you murder the princess?" It was evident in the young man's voice, and in his heart, that he did not want to believe that his prince was capable of cold-blooded murder, even though he himself had no affection for the dead woman.

"No, I did not," Trystan answered crisply. Again, he grinned. "But I thank whoever did. The Princess Edlyn was a royal pain in the a.s.s, and I'm not sorry to see her dead." He spared a precious moment to bend forward and rake his nose against Sanura's neck, to further mark himself, and then he turned the horse about and they made their escape.

The others would come after them, Sanura knew, and she wondered how long it would be before they were caught. Vigilant and capable of anything, Trystan could protect her, but she suspected he could not remain in this state for very long-and no matter which part of him ruled, he would have to rest and sleep on occasion. Would Prince Alixandyr be as diligent when he emerged once more? He was likely to present them both to their accusers, certain that the truth and logic would be enough to save them, certain that justice would be served.

"It was Vyrn and Tari," she called as the wind whipped her hair and her skirt about wildly. "I'm certain they killed the princess and set the scene to place the blame on us."

"I don't care," Trystan responded. "I don't care who killed her or why. I care only for your promise, love. I killed no one, just as you asked. I could've killed them all, if not for the promise of that which I desire more than blood."

She shuddered. She'd done what she had to do in order to save her own life and his, and to protect innocent lives. She would not break her word. Still, she wished it had been Prince Alixandyr who'd saved them-Alixandyr, who could not believe that his men would turn against him; Alixandyr, who was sure the truth would be enough for the others, because the truth was enough for him.

"I do care!" she shouted. "We must prove that Vyrn and Tari are guilty in order to prove our innocence."

"We are hardly innocent, love." At that, Trystan laughed harshly. The discordant sound rang in her ear.

IT could not have gone more smoothly. Vyrn suppressed a smile as the other men around him gathered their weapons and readied their horses. Two Tryfynian soldiers, includingthe one who had been slightly wounded, would escort the princess's body and her weeping maids back to King Bhaltair. The rest, four sentinels and four soldiers, would pursue the murderous couple.

Vyrn had not expected the prince's reaction to be so bizarre, but he could not be sorry for the strange outburst and the flight from the accusers. Prince Alixandyr now looked very, very guilty. Even if they did find his sword, which was hidden so deep in the woods it would likely never surface, they would not believe him innocent.

His primary goal had been the death of the princess, but there was a bonus to be had if the prince did not survive this journey. Vyrn was quite fond of bonuses.

Before he could mount his own horse, Tari approached at a run. Foolish girl. They could not be seen together, not in any way that might taint their stories and point to their mutual partic.i.p.ation in this scheme. They were the only two who had claimed to see the prince in the wh.o.r.e's tent on more than one night. That could not come under question!

She waited until she was very close to say, "You are coming back, aren't you?"

"Of course." It was a lie. When the time was right, preferably after the prince was dead, he'd break away from the others and make his way to the Lady Rikka, who would reward him well for his work.

Tari's eyes narrowed. She handed him a bit of bread wrapped in cloth, which supplied for those around them a purpose for her coming to him. At least she was smart enough not to ruin their cover now. "Good. If you didn't come back, if you just left me here . . ." Her eyes met his, and they were stronger than he'd imagined they could be. At this moment she did not look so naive. "I might be forced to tell all that I know. About you, about the drugs we put in the tea and the cider, about stealing the blue powder. About everything."

Vyrn was a bit surprised. He had taken Tari for a fool who would wait forever for his return, before slinking off to drown her sorrows in wine or other men. Somehow she saw through him. Somehow she knew he was going to flee, just as the prince had fled.

He soothed her fears. "Before I run, I'll come for you," he whispered. "How can you doubt that? After all we've planned, after all we've done in order to build our life together, I would not, could not, go on without you. Say nothing, dearest. Remain calm and stick to the story."

She nodded, and in her eyes he saw the love which made her his willing slave. Good heavens, the woman would do anything he asked of her. Hadn't she proved that?

A Tryfynian soldier shouted, "Hurry, you laggards! They're getting away!"

Another responded, "Steady yourself. Where can they hide? How many blue women do you expect wander the countryside? "

A couple of the men laughed. They'd put aside the horror of the morning for the more welcome thrill of the chase. A Tryfynian soldier pointed out that they were two on a horse, which would slow them down considerably. Another agreed heartily that there was no place for the criminals, the murderers, to hide.

They had all seen the slave stand in the rain and not lose her blue coloring. It was very likely not even possible to scrub her bizarre cosmetic from her flesh. Yes, they'd find her, and the prince, too. The prince would die first, of course, and then the woman might die as well. She did have some magic, he had heard, and might know more than she should. Her death might not be necessary, but Vyrn would feel better if he did not have to worry about her when he started his new and wonderful life.

When those two were dead, there would be no one to dispute the claims that the emperor's brother and his forbidden lover had murdered Princess Edlyn. What a scandal would ensue! What chaos! Yes, there would likely be war, but there was always a price to pay for change. It wasn't as if he'd be forced to fight in the war. By the time the fighting started, he'd be living in his own palace somewhere, rich and happy and surrounded by beautiful women. He'd have his own servants, his own sentinels.

But first, there was a job to be completed. Vyrn mentally went through his priorities. He had to find the prince and kill him-or arrange for his death to occur in some way which would not fall back on him-and then do away with the woman. When that was done, there would be Tari to dispose of-a job which should be easy enough-and a generous reward to collect so he could start his new and wonderful life.

Yes, all was going as planned, and life for Vyrn was very, very good.

Chapter Six.

"DID I kill her?"

Sanura heard the pain in Prince Alixandyr's voice as he asked the question that plagued him; she felt the torment roiling off of him as if it were a wave of the ocean she had left behind to come to this cursed land. "No."

"But if I was not entirely myself..."

"No," she said again, her voice more forceful than before. "It was Vyrn and Tari. They drugged us, murdered the princess, and set the scene to make it look as if we did the killing."

He shook his head. "Why?"

"I don't know."

Trystan had departed and Alixandyr had emerged sometime before they'd stopped to rest the horse. Though there had been no physical signs of the change that she could see, since his eyes were not in her range of view, Sanura had felt the s.h.i.+ft within him and experienced a wave of relief. Alixandyr remained the stronger of the two, though she imagined Trystan would return-and probably sooner than she'd like.

In the early days she had been so sure that the two men within the one body were one and the same, but since neither of them accepted that, they continued to act separately. More and more she thought of them as separate beings. One of them frightened her; the other she liked very much. In essence, they truly were two men, not one.

Alixandyr looked down at the blue stain on his hands. He'd tried to wipe the paint away, brus.h.i.+ng his palms briskly against his trousers. He'd attempted to wash his hands in the stream where the horse drank. Neither effort removed much of the stain. Sanura did not yet have the heart to tell him that his face was also marked. She should be horrified that he had touched her so when it was not his right, but she could still feel the sc.r.a.pe of his cheek against hers and she liked that memory of connection, even if it had been his darker side which dared to be so bold.

"Can this d.a.m.nable blue paint not be scrubbed away?" he asked tersely, standing and wiping his wet hands against his trousers. "Until we settle on a plan of action, we'd best keep a low profile. In this part of the world, you are anything but low profile. I suppose I could wear gloves, but you are not so easily disguised."

"With time and enough vigorous was.h.i.+ng, the blue can be removed," Sanura explained. "The process takes several days without the oils made specifically for that purpose."

"We don't have days," he snapped. "Where might we obtain this oil?"

"In my tent," she said softly. "A large vial of the oil is kept in a box along with the paint and brushes necessary for the application and repair of my blue. A few drops will be enough to see the job done."

He stopped scrubbing and looked her in the eye. She was relieved to see that his eyes were still a nice light shade of green. "So our choice is to remain blue or else to return to a camp where everyone wants to execute us for a murder we did not commit, so that we might fetch your box."

"Yes." She did not tell him she wanted that special box for other reasons: that it was special, that it reminded her of home and of being cared for and appreciated. She did not tell him that she wanted the container, which was a work of art, because it was all she had left of who she'd once been.

"I could wear gloves," he said again, "but you..."

She reached up and touched his face, her fingertips very lightly raking along the section of his cheek which was more brightly blue than his hands, and then across his nose. Why did touching this man's nose, such an ordinary and unimportant body part, feel so intimate? She allowed her fingers to linger for a moment. "Gloves will not cover this," she explained as her hand fell away.

"I don't remember," he said softly, not bothering to question her a.s.sertion. Did that easy acceptance mean he trusted her? She knew he was not a man who gave his trust easily or often.

"I know."