To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2) Page 2

  That done, Uman grinned wickedly and went to examine the dead bodies of the bandits lying around the camp. He ripped open the shirt of one who looked particularly tasty, then bent over him to chew through his chest, feasting on the bloody, sinewy flesh, and eventually reaching his heart. He dug it out with his fingernails, dropped the still-warm organ into the leather pouch at his waist, and took off running with unnatural speed through the trees, heading north toward Faril.

  §

  Jiandra awoke to find Yajna absent from their bed. Thinking perhaps he’d gone for a drink of water—maybe because she herself was parched—she swung her legs over the side of the mattress and shoved her feet into her slippers. She retrieved her robe from the chair near her side of the bed and lit a candle, then stepped out into the passageway outside their quarters. She followed the darkened hallways and descended the large central staircase to the Main Hall, then wandered through the door to the kitchen.

  To her surprise, the cook was still up, leaning over a table reading something on a piece of parchment. He whirled around when she entered, hiding the parchment behind his back.

  “Terijin?” Jiandra gasped, then chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d still be up—you startled me!”

  Terijin bowed curtly. “Your Highness. Forgive me—I was just going over my inventory sheets.”

  “At this hour?” Jiandra swept past him to get a cup from the cupboard. “It must be two in the morning.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he explained with a sheepish smile.

  “Have you seen Emperor Yajna?”

  “No, Your Highness. Is he missing from his quarters?”

  “It seems so.” Jiandra dipped the ladle into the water bucket and filled her cup. “Well, he must be wandering around the palace somewhere. If you see him, would you tell him to please come back to bed? His wife’s special request?”

  Terijin smiled and bowed again. “Of course, Your Highness.”

  She noticed his gaze dropping to the glowing blue stone around her neck. She touched the Omaja protectively, an instinctive move when she saw someone staring at it, then nodded to him. “Good night, Terijin.”

  When she climbed the stairs and went back inside her room, it was still empty. Baffled by Yajna’s disappearance, she took the candle and wandered down the back hallways of their wing until she reached the door to the northeast guard tower.

  The guard on duty came to attention as she entered the tower, then bowed. “What is it, Your Highness? Something wrong?”

  “Yes, Ciren, I was looking for Emperor Yajna. Have you seen him in the past couple of hours?”

  “No, Your Highness.”

  “I’m sure he’s just checking on something somewhere in the palace or on the grounds. If you see him, would you tell him I’m looking for him and worried?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Ciren placed a hand on the handle of his sword. “I’d better accompany you back to your room and post a guard outside the door, just in case there’s mischief afoot.”

  “You shouldn’t leave your post unmanned. And the Omaja stone protects me from all harm, so there’s no need to worry about—”

  “Still, Emperor Yajna’s orders are to make sure you are safe at all times. Wolfan will be here soon to take my place. It’s almost his shift. Please allow me to escort you to your room, Your Highness.”

  Jiandra had wanted to continue looking for Yajna in Yavi’s wing, but realized she was only worrying the guards and servants, probably for no reason at all. She closed her hand over the Omaja stone as Ciren led her down the long hallways and read his mind with Knowing to see if he might be hiding something about Yajna. All she found in his thoughts was a desire to do a good job as guard so as to impress and please the emperors.

  At the door to her room, she thanked Ciren, slipped inside, and closed the door. She gazed at the empty bed with a sigh. If only the Omaja worked like a crystal ball or a scrying stone and could let her know if everything was all right.

  She crawled back into bed, resigned to be patient until Yajna returned. Her intuition told her he was fine, that she needn’t worry about him. Still, she wasn’t used to sleeping in their large bed without his strong arms around her, and it was truly a hardship to suddenly go without his warmth.

  She drew the covers up tightly to her chin, shivering a little. Yajna, you are in big trouble when you show up again. She smiled to herself as she imagined a few ways he could make it up to her, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

  §

  Yavi and Yajna delivered the carts of food and supplies as well as the two prisoners to Ularia’s guard captain. One of the prisoners caught Yavi’s arm just before they left.

  “Sire, be wary.”

  “Of what?” Yavi watched the bandit’s face.

  “One of your own tipped us off about the caravan heading to Ularia.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know, Mahaj. I’d tell you if I did, I swear it. He was Uman’s contact. All I know is, it’s someone in your service at the palace.”

  Yavi nodded grimly. “Thank you for telling me. What’s your name?”

  “Bindar, Sire.”

  “Bindar. Tejeshwar guide you.”

  “Also you, Sire.”

  Yajna gave Yavi a quick nod and followed him out of the gate to where their horses waited. They mounted, bid the gate guards farewell, and set out for Darpan.

  As they rode, Yavi peered up at the moon. They would make it back by dawn, just as he’d told the guard at the palace. Yavi smiled to himself as he rode with his brother by his side through the night. It had been too long since they’d gone on a mission together, and it felt good to get out of the palace and do something useful. Something dangerous. It reminded him of their youth. Yavi had loved swordplay ever since their father had given him and Yajna their first wooden swords as boys. Varyn later made Yajna a bow, and the extra wooden sword became Yavi’s permanent possession. The two brothers played war and practiced their weapon skills constantly, pretending to fight all sorts of vile miscreants in the woods near their farmhouse.

  The two of them were accepted into Nandala’s Black Armies at the age of seventeen and began to receive formal weapons and stealth training. They were soon recognized as particularly gifted in the assassin arts, and were sent to train with Tylvani mystics at their monastery for a year. When they returned to Darpan, Thakur had promoted them to the highest ranks in the Assassin Army. At the age of twenty-five they were sent on the mission of a lifetime, to assassinate the Queen of Villeleia, with the promise that upon successful completion, their father’s royal name would be restored and his house once again eligible to inherit the throne of Nandala after Thakur’s death. That mission had taken them to the verdant, prosperous land of Villeleia to the south, where Jiandra and her magical stone had thrown a kink into their plans in more ways than one. Yavi’s brother had fallen head over heels for the green-eyed beauty. And with her stone’s healing powers she had saved both their lives, time and again, as they turned rebel and fought to liberate their people from Thakur’s misguided, selfish rule.

  Yavi hugged his knees close to Sikar’s flanks, leaning low over the horse’s neck as he galloped down the road toward the palace he now called home. A beautiful but cold and impersonal dwelling as far as Yavi was concerned, somewhat of a prison made of gleaming white marble and gray granite. He missed his father and mother and their small farm. Six years had not healed the soul-crushing wound left by witnessing his father’s violent death on the battlefield, as Thakur slit Varyn’s throat right before Yavi’s eyes. And while Yajna had Jiandra to love him, hold him, and make his wing of the palace feel more like a home, Yavi was alone. The truth was, he’d loved escaping the palace tonight because he needed to escape his own empty room. His empty bed.

  His empty heart.

  §

  Yajna closed the door and saw Jiandra’s sleeping form under the covers in the darkness. Relieved she hadn’t awakened and tried to follow him, he moved to the washbasi
n to undress and wash up before joining her under the blankets. His blood was still running hot from the evening’s excitement, and that combined with the thought of snuggling up beside his sexy wife gave him a stiff erection.

  As soon as he picked up the edge of the blanket, Jiandra rolled over and sat upright. “Yajna! You brute; you left me here alone half the night! Where have you been?”

  “Hush,” he chuckled against her lips as he gathered her into his arms. “It’s a long story, and I’m not in the mood for talking.”

  “I’ll have you know I looked everywhere—”

  “Shhh.” He covered her lips with his, silencing her with his lips and tongue. Her sensuous lips tasted so sweet under his assault, and he plunged his tongue between them urgently.

  When she relaxed and surrendered to his kisses, he moved to trail his lips down the slim column of her neck. She clutched his head and pressed herself against him. “Yajna, you are incorrigible.”

  “I know.” He chuckled. “I love you, beautiful wife. Forgive me. It was for a good cause. I’ll explain fully later, I promise.” He kissed her collarbone, reaching up to caress her breast through her nightgown. Her nipple hardened against his palm.

  “Stop being so…mmmnh…sweet and contrite.”

  “Never.” Yajna grinned, then proceeded to show Jiandra just how contrite he felt, with his hands, lips, and tongue.

  §

  Yavi removed his cloak and boots, peeled off his leather armor, then stood at his washstand to sponge off the sweat and grime from the evening’s outing. He scrubbed his chest under the emperor’s ruby, which dangled from a thick chain around his neck. Bindar’s warning about a traitor inside the palace haunted him as he mentally filed through the list of palace servants. They couldn’t afford many people, so it wasn’t a long list. They had a washing girl, Kitran, and a housekeeper, Kitran’s mother Shandri. But Bindar had referred to the inside contact as “he,” and Yavi honestly couldn’t imagine either of those women selling palace information. Shandri had been a beggar in the streets of Darpan prior to getting hired as their housekeeper, and her daughter Kitran was so clearly infatuated with Yavi it was hard to imagine her doing anything that would endanger him or go against his wishes.

  Their steward, who also acted as valet, handyman, and all-around help, was a middle-aged, kindly fellow named Liel. Nothing in his demeanor led Yavi to believe he could have betrayed their confidence, but who else could it have been? Terijin, the cook? The man never left the kitchen; all he knew or practiced was food preparation, and he had thus far been the most dedicated cook Yavi could imagine. Aside from those four, there were perhaps six other servants, all orphaned youths who assisted Shandri with housekeeping and Liel with around-the-house tasks.

  Yavi hated to face the possibility, but the informant could be a palace guard. But who? The guard captain, Harshad, was fiercely loyal, and by all accounts so were his men. Their current palace guard detail was small—too small, in fact—only about fifteen men. They guarded the palace itself, the stables, and the two gates leading out of the palace grounds. To Yavi’s knowledge each man was nothing but faithful. Their pay certainly wasn’t enough to warrant the level of devotion they had shown to him and Yajna thus far.

  He sighed and sank wearily onto his mattress, then lay back and pulled the covers over his body. The only way to be certain was to ask Jiandra to read the staff’s thoughts with the Omaja stone—something she avoided doing unless she felt it was extremely necessary.

  This, however, was extremely necessary, because Yavi wanted this traitor dealt with before he could strike again.

  Two

  Well before dawn, Graciella stood in her farmhouse’s small kitchen kneading the dough for cinnamon-raisin bread in her strong, practiced hands, while the rest of the cottage’s inhabitants still slept. She had arranged her long dark hair in a single braid down her back, donned her plain muslin dress and apron, pushed the sleeves back, and set to work. The first batch of sourdough was already baking in the oven.

  Elio appeared from around the corner, dressed for farm work. “Morning, sister. Is there hot water for tea?”

  “Yes, ready in the kettle.”

  He inhaled blissfully. “How long for the bread to come out of the oven?”

  “Only a few minutes.” She smiled.

  “I love bread-baking day.” Elio hugged her into his side and planted a brotherly peck on top of her head. He poured a splash of cream into his tea and stirred it. “Sister, are you happy living here at the farm? In general, I mean?”

  “I suppose so. I don’t want to live here forever, though.”

  Elio sipped his tea thoughtfully. “Farm life isn’t your first choice, is it?”

  “No, but I’m thankful we have this farm.”

  “I am as well, but…” He trailed off.

  “But you’re thinking of giving up the farm?”

  Elio sighed. “No offense to our parents, Gods rest their souls, but my heart is with Solange, and I want to be with her full-time, sharing her company, protecting her, being there for her when she needs me.”

  “I wish the Royal Council would allow her to marry you.” Graciella pulled the large tray of finished sourdough out of the oven, replacing it with a tray of unbaked loaves.

  “Solange turns twenty in a few days. After that, she doesn’t need their approval. She can marry whomever she pleases.”

  Graciella chuckled. “I think I know whom she pleases.”

  Her brother smiled, then grew serious. “I want to ask her to marry me, but I’m afraid, Gracie.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid she’ll think I’m beneath her.”

  “Solange adores you.”

  “I know, but marriage is a different matter. I’m a farmer. She’s the queen.”

  “Elio.” Graciella broke off a hunk of the steaming hot sourdough, put it on a plate, and handed it to him along with a knife and butter. “Solange is crazy about you. Has been for six years. I know she wants to marry you and is dying for you to ask.”

  His eyes lit up. “She said that?”

  “Not in so many words, but a girl can tell when another girl is madly in love with her brother.”

  Elio took a bite of bread, then spoke with his mouth full. “You think I should propose, then?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” Graciella popped a small piece of bread into her mouth, savoring it. “Mm, perfect. I love sourdough.”

  “Me too, and you make the best sourdough in the county, sweet sister of mine.” Elio ate another bite, then took a sip of tea. “Some lucky man is going to feast on this bounty when you marry someday. He’d better appreciate it, too. If he doesn’t, I’ll rough him up for you.”

  Graciella laughed. “Hopefully that won’t be necessary, but thank you, brother.”

  “You’re welcome.” He wrapped the rest of his hunk of bread in a dishtowel. “I’ll be in the barn if you need me.”

  §

  Yavi tapped lightly on Yajna’s bedroom door. “Brother, it’s me,” he whispered loudly. “I need to discuss a matter with you and Jiandra this morning.”

  “Go away, you annoying bastard!” came Yajna’s sleepy-grumpy reply.

  “It’s urgent,” Yavi insisted. He heard what sounded like Jiandra arguing with his brother softly.

  “All right, give us a moment,” Yajna called out.

  Yavi leaned his back against the wall and waited until his brother came to the door. Finally Yajna opened it, wearing a robe, and motioned Yavi inside. Jiandra had also donned a robe over her nightgown and stood beside her husband with her arms hugged around herself, her expression one of concern.

  Yavi stepped inside the room and shut the door behind him. “I’ve been thinking what that prisoner Bindar said about Uman being tipped off about the caravan’s route by one of our palace servants.”

  “Who’s Uman?” Jiandra asked.

  “The bandit leader,” Yavi explained. “He’s apparently the one who planned the attack on our
caravan. We killed him at the campsite.”

  Yajna set his lips in a line. “So we have a traitor living here with us.”

  Yavi looked at Jiandra. “Can you use the Omaja to find the informant for us, today if possible?”

  She reached up to touch the blue stone. “Consider it done.”

  “Bindar referred to the servant as ‘he,’ though we shouldn’t rule out anyone until we know for sure,” Yavi said.

  “Agreed,” she replied. “I’ll find out who it is and report back to you immediately.”

  Yavi nodded. “I’ll be in the courtyard sparring all morning.”

  “Need to relieve some tension, brother?” Yajna teased, sliding his arms around his wife’s waist.

  “Something like that. You should join me, work on your sloppy aim.”

  Yajna gave him a meaningful grin. “My aim’s just fine.”

  “Cocky bastard,” Yavi muttered, shaking his head.

  §

  Jiandra had already ruled out Liel the steward before heading upstairs to find Kitran. The washing girl was in Yavi’s quarters, stripping the sheets from his bed, when Jiandra came around the corner. Jiandra ducked out of sight behind the doorway, grasped the Omaja in her fist, and peeked around the corner. She focused Knowing on Kitran’s small frame.

  Bodies were entangled, naked bodies, groaning and making love. Kitran pushed her gorgeous, muscular lover onto his back and climbed on top. Through Kitran’s eyes, Jiandra looked down at the man, and saw Yavi’s face looking up at her.

  Yavi, take me! Kitran gasped, rubbing her pelvis against his.

  Jiandra quickly shook her head to clear the scandalous scene. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, whether it had been a real event or just a fantasy on Kitran’s part. For the moment, she needed to get the girl’s mind off making love with Yavi if she was going to find out what she wanted to know. She stepped into the room, clearing her throat loudly.

  Kitran whirled around, startled, and curtsied. “Your Highness!”