Heart of the Wolf Read online

  "She did?" Jocelyn was very curious. No one ever seemed to speak of her.

  "We were very close,” Sheela told her. Then her eyes seemed to have shifted to the past. Jocelyn remained silent, not wanting to force her to relive an old sadness, but hoping she would continue. After a time, she did.

  "Erina loved Daken and he loved her—but she was always very fragile, in body and spirit. It always seemed to me that she needed a little less greatness in a husband, and Daken needed someone stronger. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, I think so,” Jocelyn replied. "But why hasn’t he remarried?”

  Sheela shrugged and turned again to watch the children. "Sometimes I think he realized his mistake—realized that he needed someone stronger. There've been women, of course, although not for a long time after Erina’s death. But then it seemed that he just became content with his life as it is, although . .."

  Her voice trailed off and Jocelyn prompted her. "Do you think that has changed?” She was thinking about what Daken had explained to her as he'd carved his log the night before.

  “I think he may be finding it difficult now to remain content,” Sheela said, casting her a look that seemed both sad and amused.

  Suddenly, the volume of noise from the slopes increased, and both women saw that two children had collided part-way down the steep hill. Their discs slid off to the sides, creating still more havoc, and the two who had collided were now tumbling down the slope, arms and legs floundering.

  By the time it was all sorted out, and the anxious adults had determined that no one had been injured, Sheela said she had to hurry off to the crafts fair, where she had volunteered to help. Jocelyn wanted very much to pursue their conversation, but was forced to let it go.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur of activities. Jocelyn returned several more times to check on the progress of Rina's ice sculpture, at the same time bringing food and warm drinks for both her and her partner. With each visit, she could see more of the giant bird taking shape under their skilled hands.

  She also went over to the bridge to watch the snow-walker races and marveled at the speed and agility of the contestants as they seemed to skim along on the awkward-looking devices. She’d expected to find Daken there, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  The inside of the fortress was a beehive of activity as well. There was a market and the crafts fair and more games for children. At one end of the Great Hall, a group of mostly older men were playing a complicated-looking game that involved rolling wooden balls through a maze of tall wooden cylinders. From the sounds of the crowd gathered there, she guessed that the object was to strike the cylinders and knock them down.

  The wide hallways of the fortress were crowded with merrymakers, and since most of them were much taller than she was, Jocelyn began to feel as though she were back to her own childhood, scampering about amongst the crowds at the palace.

  The doors to all the living quarters were flung open, and people drifted from one home to another, laughing, talking, drinking, and eating. Delicious aromas wafted out from every doorway, and Jocelyn received many invitations to partake of this or that delicacy or the host's special wine.

  By the time she finally reached Daken’s quarters, she was over-filled with food and a bit dizzy from having sampled too much wine. But she was also very optimistic about the outcome of the vote because so many people had told her they agreed with Daken.

  One elderly gentleman, who had perhaps had a bit too much wine, said that the Kassid had an "historic interest in the welfare of the Ertrian empire,” by which Jocelyn assumed he meant that long-ago time when Kassid warriors had fought to help create the empire. She knew that the Kassid had a strong sense of history and thought it likely that many others would feel that way as well.

  The door to Daken's suite stood open as well, and she walked into the great room to discover a substantial crowd present and Daken himself pouring the wine. Tassa was nowhere to be seen, and Jocelyn belatedly realized that with Rina busy with her sculpture, she should have offered to help with the guests. Tassa had probably been confined to the kitchen all day.

  As soon as he saw her, Daken poured another goblet of wine and brought it to her. She knew this was the special wine he made himself, but she put up a hand to refuse it.

  “I’m afraid I've had too much already," she stated ruefully. “Is Tassa in the kitchen? I must go help her so she can get out for a while to see everything."

  "She's already doing that,” he replied, peering at her closely. “Perhaps you should rest for a while. Otherwise, you might miss the evening's activities."

  “I think you’re right,” she said, horrified to realize that she was swaying slightly and her eyes weren’t quite focussing properly. As long as she had kept moving in the crowds, she hadn’t noticed it.

  Daken circled her waist with one long arm and led her off to her bedchamber. Very embarrassed now, she protested that she was fine.

  "You will be if you get some rest. Some people make much stronger wine than I do, and you’re not used to it. I should have warned you."

  He opened the door to her bedchamber, then dropped his arm. She started to sway against him, then caught herself and instead protested that she might miss the judging of the ice sculptures.

  “I’ll come get you," he promised, then backed away and closed the door behind him.

  Jocelyn walked rather unsteadily to the bed, then fell onto it without undressing. Despite the hum of activity all around her, she fell asleep very quickly.

  Something was brushing lightly against her cheek. Still struggling up from sleep, Jocelyn put out a hand—and touched warm, calloused flesh. Her eyes snapped open to meet the eyes that haunted her dreams—the eyes of the wolf. Daken’s eyes. She gasped—whether because she thought it was a dream or knew it wasn’t, she couldn’t have said. He quickly withdrew the hand that had smoothed her tangled hair away from her face, then straightened up and backed away from her bed.

  "I knocked, but you must have been sleeping deeply. Wine will do that. I've brought you some tea to help you wake up."

  She sat up in the bed, struggling away from the dream and away from the havoc wrought by his touch. It was still daylight, but the shadows were lengthening.

  "Have I missed the ice sculptures?" she asked in a husky voice that owed as much to his presence as to sleepiness.

  "No, that’s why I woke you now. There is time yet.” He handed her a cup of the strong brew the Kassid drank in the morning. His movement seemed oddly stiff and formal.

  "Thank you," she murmured, taking the cup. Their fingers touched lightly, then withdrew quickly—as though each had touched something hot.

  "Have you seen the sculptures? Is Rina finished?” Despite her fondness for the girl, the ice creations were the last thing on her mind at the moment. But it was essential now, as that voluptuous warmth spread through her, to preserve a sense of normality-

  “She must be finished by now,” Daken replied. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then took a seat on a nearby chair. "I went out earlier, but she sent me away, telling me I couldn’t see it until it was finished. For some reason, Rina seems to think I demand perfection in eveiything. She's much like her mother was in that regard.”

  Jocelyn smiled at his words, recalling the conversation with Sheela about the burdens of living with someone like Daken. “Well, perhaps you could show an imperfection or two yourself from time to time. It might help."

  She’d spoken lightly, a smile on her lips and in her voice—but rather to her surprise, he took her words very seriously.

  "I’m not perfect, Jocelyn. In fact, I’ve never been more aware of that than I am at the moment.”

  Their eyes met—and held this time. She wanted to look away, to prevent the heat and chills that

  seemed to be chasing each other endlessly through her. She could feel the tension in him—his self- control was held by a taut leash in danger of snapping at any moment.

  The cup shook in her hand.
He saw it and stood up slowly, coming to stand once more beside the bed. His movements seemed slow and deliberate as he took it from her and set it on a nearby table. Then he turned back to her, and a question was asked and answered in a heavy, heated silence.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, and his weight sent her tumbling into an awkward position against him. She moved—not away from him, but just to make herself more comfortable. And this time when their eyes met, she raised her hand carefully, letting it come to rest against his cheek in an unconscious imitation of his earlier gesture. It was the most she dared, but far less than she wanted— and she knew that she had told him that when he turned his face into her hand and his lips brushed against her sensitive palm.

  A low, strangled sound rose within her. She tried to catch it in her throat, but failed. It felt as though a storm were gathering inside her—dark, mysterious, threatening.

  She leaned toward him and felt him hesitate for a moment before gathering her into his arms with a deep groan that echoed through her as he buried his face in her neck.

  But she was hungry for the taste of him and drew his mouth up to meet hers as she threaded her fingers through his thick gray hair.

  The sensations were almost too much to be borne. For a moment, she was afraid she might fall away into some unimaginable chasm as a powerful need pulled at her.

  Their bodies were twisted and awkward, arms and legs bumping into each other. And then the clumsiness was gone as they lay back on the bed and his hands began to roam greedily over her. Tremors that began in one ended in the other— fine, strong threads of passion that bound them to each other.

  No one had ever touched her so intimately—but she wanted more. Her clothing chafed against her heated flesh, begging to be released from its confinement. What should have been frightening was an impediment to be dispensed with.

  She arched her body to his, and this time did not shrink away when she felt that hardness. Through her mind ran all those stories she’d heard about the pain, the humiliation, a woman’s duty, not her pleasure. All of it passed through her mind and was gone; she knew it could not be that way with him.

  His mouth moved warmly over hers and his tongue probed lightly at her own. Moments, hours, could have passed this way as they lay there, lost in a world of their own creation.

  Then he slowly lifted his mouth from hers and propped himself up on one elbow as he stared down at her. Long strands of hair had fallen across his face and she reached up to smooth them away, wanting more but pleased just to be able to touch him.

  Once more, he turned his face into her hand and kissed it—bringing them back to where it had be-

  gun. She understood the gesture. What had started could not be finished now. She was aware of the fact that she should be relieved, but felt instead only a frustration.

  "Rina will be expecting us,” he said hoarsely.

  She nodded, not yet trusting her own voice. In the unspoken conversation beneath those words, he was saying that this was the only reason they had stopped, and she was agreeing. But it seemed that he required the words to be spoken after all, because he sat up, moved slightly away from her, then spoke in a more normal voice.

  "Do you want us to become lovers, Jocelyn?”

  "Yes,” she said succinctly, not wanting there to be any doubt about it. She guessed that he might try to find doubt in her because she knew he had his own.

  Their gazes locked, and after a moment he smiled. “You are determined not to leave me a way out, aren’t you?”

  She nodded, a smile hovering about her own lips.

  He stood up then, putting still more distance between them before he spoke again. “I have never wanted a woman so much before. I fear what will happen to us, Jocelyn—but I fear more the pain of not having you."

  "Yes," she said. There was no need to say anything more. They had no promises to make, no future to talk about. They both knew that all they had was this time together—to create memories.

  Chapter Seven

  A large crowd had already gathered around the ice sculptures, and Jocelyn felt a pang of guilt as she saw Rina scanning it anxiously, obviously wondering where they were.

  She felt disoriented as Daken took her arm and led them through the throngs. She barely heard the remarks made to him, mostly in the Kassid tongue, but occasionally in Ertrian for her benefit. Even through her thick cloak, she could feel the heat of his touch, and the conversations around them were drowned out by the memory of their words—or rather, his words and her agreement.

  Then they reached Rina, and Jocelyn understood what people had been saying—the sculpture was magnificent. The last rays of the lowering sun touched the tips of huge wings arched to take flight. .And the details were truly astonishing. Somehow, Rina and her partner had managed to create feathers out of ice, giving the impression that a real bird was poised just beneath the translucent, glittering ice, ready to cast off its covering and fly away.

  “Rina, this is wonderful! What talent you have!” Jocelyn hugged the girl impulsively.

  Rina grinned tiredly. “It took us longer than we’d thought. We just finished. Have you seen the others?”

  Jocelyn admitted that she hadn’t, but said she was sure none could be the equal of this.

  “Everyone is saying that,” Rina nodded proudly. “But there’s a very good bear, the best I’ve ever seen.”

  Jocelyn and Daken made their rounds, viewing all the ice creations. The bear was indeed very good, but Jocelyn thought it lacked the spirit, the animation of Rina’d bird. One team had even carved a larger-than-life likeness of a Kassid warrior, complete with the short sword she learned from Daken was their weapon of choice in battle.

  Jocelyn stared up at the expertly carved face. There was no doubt in her mind that the sculptors had intended it to be Daken, although he professed not to see that.

  That ice-warrior remained in her mond as they made their way back to Rina. She wished that the two youths who had carved it had chosen something else. This was not a night when she wanted to be reminded of what lay ahead for them. In this safe place, war seemed such a very distant thing, and she wanted only to keep it that way for as long as possible.

  When they reached Rina, the trio of judges was moving slowly around the bird, the crowd having fallen back to make way for them. Jocelyn watched their faces and thought they seemed impressed, although they might well have schooled themselves into that expression to hide their decision until the last moment.

  But when the announcement was made, the great bird was pronounced the winner with much praise. Daken was the first to congratulate his daughter, lifting her high into his arms with a shout of joy.

  Then, together with the glowing Rina, Daken and Jocelyn made the rounds of the fortress as the activity moved back indoors again. Tassa, who had been forced to miss the judging for other duties, joined them as they moved from one home to the next, where Rina’s skills were praised by all.

  Jocelyn took great care this time not to accept too many glasses of wine, although she had more trouble turning down all the delicacies being offered.

  From time to time throughout their leisurely journey, pale blue eyes would meet emerald green in silent promise, and Jocelyn would feel her world spinning dizzily.

  But once, when she looked away from Daken to find Rina watching them with a curious expression, Jocelyn allowed reality to intrude. What would Rina think—and Tassa as well? Would they understand that this time was all they had, that what was happening between her and Daken already had an ending even before it had begun?

  Abruptly, she recalled her father saying to her

  once that one should never begin that which cannot be finished.

  The great courtyard of the fortress was overflowing with people when they walked out into the cold, clear night. Rina had told her that no one ever missed the bonfire unless they were too ill to be exposed to the cold.

  By contrast with the gaiety of the day, the mood of the Kassid was now m
ore solemn than she’d yet seen. People spoke in low, hushed tones or simply stood together in silence as the last of the carved logs were tossed onto the huge pile. She had brought her own log out earlier, and stood now with Rina and Tassa. Daken had disappeared some time ago. She scanned the crowds, seeking him, then found him standing with his advisors at the front of the crowd before the pile of logs.

  At that moment, he spotted her, too, and beckoned her forward. Rina took her arm.

  "Come, Jocelyn. Father wants you to join him."

  Jocelyn made her way through the crowd with Rina holding her arm. She detected a certain tension in Rina and immediately wondered if the girl had guessed what was happening and disapproved. It would be natural, she thought, but she hoped that she was wrong.

  When they reached Daken, he took her hand. "As our guest, you should be here where you can see the ceremony."

  She thanked him, but gently withdrew her hand, mindful of Rina’s presence. Daken glanced at her in silent question, but said nothing. Then a group

  of men began to circle the small mountain of logs, pouring something over them.

  "Bol,” Rina told her. "To start the fire. Sometimes the smoke is terrible, but there’s no wind tonight, so it shouldn’t bother us.”

  Jocelyn thought that Rina still seemed tense, but then she realized that the feeling of tension was in the very air. Apparently, the Kassid regarded this moment as being very important.

  Then a part of the crowd gave way to permit the passage of a boy and a girl who were carrying torches. As Daken took both torches from them, Rina whispered that they were the winners in the snow-walker races and had lit the torches from the urns at the bridge.