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LENGTH: Epic Novel
SENSUALITY: Sensual

Cover art (c) Amber Moon 2004
ISBN 1-58608-316-3
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Roric loved once and lost. He wants to put his past behind him, to love Princess Keriam. But he fears she is a witch, and witchcraft is forbidden in the kingdom. If found guilty, she would be burned at the stake, and not even her father could save her.

Rating: Some violence and explicit sex.

NIGHT SECRETS

By

S.A. Martin

© copyright December 2004, Shirley Martin

Cover Art by Amber Moon, © copyright December 2004

ISBN 1-58608-316-3

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

A slight tug released Keriam’s soul from her body. She floated to the ceiling, amazed as always that she could look down at herself in bed. With a certainty born of past experience, she knew this was no dream. Ever since her mother’s death two years ago, preternatural powers had evolved within her, and she often wondered why. Was it her mother’s way of watching over her from the Otherworld? These night journeys were even more recent and something she must learn to control, if only she knew how.

She drifted through the bedchamber walls, then once outside, flew over the maples and oaks that bordered the royal domain of Emain Macha, approaching the open countryside. Heading north, she traveled over the many farmsteads nestled in small groupings with their wattle-and-daub houses, the herds of longhorn sheep dotting the open fields. Here and there a hill fort guarded the country. Although it was deepest night, everything looked clear and luminous.

Maintaining her leisurely flight, Keriam approached the capital city of Moytura, its shops and stores closed, its many taverns and inns dimly-lit but alive with noise and laughter.

A heavy mist swirled around her, the night air cool and damp. She headed westward to the Plain of Sorrows, a vast land preceded by a meadow and transected by the winding Nantosuelta River. Through the fog, she drifted down among the thick clusters of oak trees lining the riverbank and smiled at the fairies who slumbered in the branches. To her heightened hearing, the rippling water of the Nantosuelta echoed like a waterfall.

The sound of hoof beats jolted her. As quickly as her spirit form would allow, she took refuge within an earthberry bush, afraid someone might see her, even in the dim light.

Two men gathered by the river, their voices audible as they secured their horses to tree branches. Focusing her gaze in the hazy light, she recognized them as officers in her father's army, although she didn't know their names. What were they doing here at this late night hour? One bald and the other blond, they wore simple tunics and short boots.

"Gamal just returned from a mission," the bald one said. "He should arrive shortly."

Was that Major Roric Gamal, her father's courier?

Aimless talk ensued for several minutes, army gossip and tales of female exploits.

They became silent when Roric Gamal rode up, an officer she'd seen at the palace many times. He dismounted and looped his horse's halter around a tree branch, then approached the others. Younger and taller than the other two, his gait was steady and confident, like one accustomed to authority.

"Where's General Balor?" Gamal asked. "He should be present." His clipped accent told her he came from one of the southern provinces, Mag Aurfolaig, perhaps.

"Couldn't come," the bald officer explained. "The general sent me to represent him."

"Very well," the newcomer said, his baritone voice clear and resonant. "Let's get this business over with so we can return to our quarters before dawn." Gamal raised his booted foot onto a tree stump and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knee, and lowered his voice. "No dissension now! We have already agreed to kill him."

Kill whom? Keriam’s spirit body turned cold. Merciful Goddess, these men are plotting murder!

The bald man stepped forward, shaking his fist. "Do it and get it over with!"

* * * *

"Think before you speak, Dothan! We must proceed with caution." Roric paused. "First, we need to bribe a few government officials. Blackmail others. That will take time. The Lug Festival would be the best opportunity for killing him," he said, looking at the other two. "Don’t you agree?" Receiving affirmative replies, he continued. "Gives us months to plan, and all the crowds there will make it easier for the assassin to disappear among the people and escape."

The Lug Festival, only four moon phases away. Keriam drew back, pressing her hand to her mouth, then gasped when her hand passed through her face.

Roric Gamal recaptured her attention. "We know the king intends to invite King Barzad of Elegia to Avador soon to discuss forming an alliance between the two countries. Last thing we need. If we can keep Avador weak, we should have no trouble gaining control of the realm." He set his foot on the ground and drew himself up to his full height. "But if Avador forms an alliance with Elegia, there go our plans. We will kill the king!"

Keriam sank to the ground. Her father! They were talking about killing her father! Goddess, no! She would not let them get away with this evil.

"Agreed," the blonde man said. "But how do we accomplish this assassination? Remember, General Balor has the final word. Anything we decide must have his approval. Got to have the army behind us."

"Of course," Roric said. "Now, I've given the plan much thought. Here's how we'll proceed...."

The warble of a bird alarmed Keriam, daybreak graying the trees.

A tug pulled her spirit back. No, not now! She must discover more of their plan.

Within a heartbeat, Keriam found herself falling into her body, as if from a great height. She lay stunned, unsure where she was. At last recognizing her surroundings, she wanted to weep, so afraid for her father, her mind awhirl with panic. Somehow, she must discover details of the plot and warn him.

No one knew of her spirit travels, but what if someone found out? She'd be accused of witchcraft, a practice forbidden in the kingdom. And no one was aware of her other mental powers, of her ability to discern a person's past or see into the future by touching that person. Unfortunately, this talent often didn't work when she needed it most. By the Goddess, why couldn't she see into her father's future?

As she heard her maid in the next room, a new fear crashed through her. What if Maudina found out about her nightly trips? Superstitious girl that she was, would her maid report her to the druids? Keriam prayed she wouldn't, hoping she could count on the maid's loyalty. Like all the servants at the palace, Maudina received a sufficient wage, and well-paid servants were more trustworthy than poorly-paid ones. Surely that fact would ensure the maid's faithfulness?

The druids held great power in the kingdom and religion ruled the lives of all of the country's inhabitants. Keriam closed her eyes, imagining her punishment should she be reported to these wise men. If found guilty, she'd be burned at the stake as a witch. Not even her father could save her, assuming he was still alive to try. Keriam said a silent prayer to Talmora, the Earth-Mother Goddess, to keep her father safe. Shifting her position, she thought hard. She must warn her father of the plot against his life without revealing her means of discovery. Would he believe her? He had to. She pushed her woolen bedcovers aside and slid out of bed, tired and groggy but determined.

She made a vow. No one would ever learn how truly different she was.

* * * *

Keriam joined her father for the midday meal in the vast dining room with its flagstone floor and high, majestic ceiling. As was the custom in Avador, they’d left an empty place for the Goddess. Keriam enjoyed this time with her father, and she knew he did too, when they could share thoughts and concerns, a time when she could learn more about the kingdom, its people, resources, and government.

"Since I have no other children," King Tencien had once said, "you will inherit the throne. Best you learn about the country you will govern--its customs, languages, everything."

* * * *

The plot against her father sent her heart pounding and drove every other thought from her mind. By Talmora, she would not permit those officers to get away with murder. She'd always found comfort in this room with its beautifully polished wooden walls, where each board was painted a different color from those above and below, so that the sides of the room presented a radiant variety of bright colors. But she found no solace this day.

"Father, you should have an official taster," she suggested as he sipped his white wine. Twisting her hands in her lap, she tried to look nonchalant, but fear for her father burned inside her--and hatred for the men who planned to kill him.

"Why, Kerry? You think someone would try to poison me?" He gave her a sharp look. "Why do you make this suggestion now?"

"It's a constant worry." Aware of her lame reply, she dipped her spoon into the spiced potato soup. Goddess, she prayed, help me save this man who means more than life to me. "You're too trusting," she said, resolved to lead into warning him of the plot.

"Not trusting, just realistic." He pressed his fingers to his temples. "A headache coming on," he murmured, then straightened up. "If someone wants to assassinate me, they'll succeed. There's nothing I or anyone else can do to prevent it."

"But of course you can! Arrange bodyguards, and--"

"Won't matter. There have always been skilled assassins, paid well, I might add. I flatter myself that I'm popular with my people, but remember, there are those who crave power. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want."

Yes, I know! Keriam wanted to say. Tell him of the plot now, her heart urged her. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. "But what if someone--"

"Enough!" He slashed his hand through the air. "No more talk about assassination. I have a splitting headache and King Barzad is expected any day now. I have enough on my mind about the treaty."

* * * *

A cold lump settled in her stomach. What had she accomplished with her ineffective warning? For now, she'd let the matter drop, but she must face--and deal with--the danger to her father. She finished her buntata soup, resolved to conceal her fear. The dining table occupied a spot close to the large stone fireplace that dominated the wall, and although heat from the burning embers drew much of the chill from the room, fright tremors raced down her arms and legs.

"Tell me about this pending treaty between our country and Elegia," she said, hoping to divert her mind. They both waited while the servants entered the room and served steaming plates of rice and chicken breast roasted with sage, thyme, and coriander. "I know we will gain a seaport, since Avador is a land-locked country, and we’ll have a way of getting our iron ore, lumber, and salt to markets. But what about Elegia? What does that country get from the treaty?"

He beamed at her. "Good thinking. The king needs a wife to provide him with an heir. My widowed sister should solve that problem. We know she can bear children."

"Father, using women as bargaining pieces between nations is an abomination of all the Earth-mother Goddess holds dear."

"I've discussed the matter with her." He reached for a bronze flagon and poured them more wine. "She has no objections."

A short period of silence followed. Desperate for distraction from her nagging worries and stymied by her father's obstinacy, she let her mind flit from one subject to another.

Magic. The word crept into her thoughts like a snake slithering along the ground. Why did no one ever speak of it, as if it were a shameful secret to keep hidden away in the darkest recesses of the mind? She didn't practice the craft--the Goddess forbid! She couldn't practice magic if she wanted to. But was it wrong, and if so, why? With a cautious look at her father, she broached these questions.

"We don't speak of magic," he warned with a sidelong glance her way, "lest if, by our words, we bring the offense back to Avador."

"Why not? What's wrong with magic? Every time I've asked this question--and you know I have many times--you’ve put me off, told me to never mention it. Why do we never talk about it?"

His gaze swept the spacious room, lingering in every corner. He lowered his voice, prompting Keriam to lean closer. "Wizards ruled Avador with their magic over one thousand years ago, good magic, mind you, to heal the sick and promote peace and well-being." He sipped his wine and set the bronze goblet on the long wooden table.

"After a century or so, a few evil wizards gained power, and with their power, turned good magic to bad. They executed those who defied them, starting with the good wizards. Caused such havoc and wickedness in the country that life became unbearable for those who tried to live by the words of the Earth-mother Goddess. Even suspicion of treason would send the accused to the dungeon. Informants were rewarded, so neighbor told on neighbor. Children were tortured in front of their parents." He shuddered. "A terrible time. After hundreds of years of this evil and oppression, my great-great-great-grandfather--an army officer--led a revolt."

"Yes, yes," Keriam said, impatient to hear more. "I learned about this revolt in my studies years ago, but no one ever told me how our ancestor rebelled. No matter how many times I questioned my governess, she told me the manner of rebellion was not important. Of course, it's important!"

Tencien nodded. "Yes, you’re old enough to understand now. Our ancestor, Malachy, gathered a force of several thousand men and in one final battle defeated the evil sorcerers and their minions. The sorcerers’ rule ended, and the House of Moray was created. King Malachy united all the tribes and ended human sacrifice--"

"Human sacrifice!" She clutched her stomach.

"Beheading, garroting. Now you see what evil the wizards caused." He dabbed his linen napkin across his forehead. "Since Malachy's victory, magic has been outlawed from the kingdom, upon pain of death. Daughter, you know I am a merciful man, but anyone caught dabbling in witchcraft deserves to be burned at the stake."

* * * *

After leaving their horses at the stables on the outskirts of Moytura, Keriam and Maudina wandered the winding cobblestone streets, the young maid with wide-eyed curiosity, Keriam with a definite purpose. Shoppers, merchants, and sightseers crowded the streets on this busy day, voices of men, women and children in many accents filling the air. The scents of spices and roasting meats drifted in the breeze as food vendors hawked their refreshments. Within a short while they reached Keriam's destination, the marketplace in Talmora Square. Despite her fascination with the city, she thought hard to devise a scheme for escaping her maid's constant surveillance.

From previous trips to the city over the years, she knew her father's officials often frequented these stores and shops in their leisure time. Since today was market day, surely they would have time off, and if luck was with her, she might see one of the plotters.

Palace officials or royal guests were the only people who ever recognized her in Moytura, since the common people never expected the princess to do her own shopping in the marketplace. To be on the safe side, she always dressed plainly but in good taste, with little adornment or hint of her royal rank. Her pale blue linen dress fluttered around her ankles, and she drew her dove gray woolen cape closer across her chest, hoping the bright sun would soon chase the chill away.

They'd already passed the bakeries and candy stores, the aromas of cinnamon bread and chocolate wafting in the cool breeze. The shops became finer and more ornate as they reached Talmora Square, a section of the city dedicated to the Goddess. Sentries in their dark gray uniforms patrolled the streets to protect the citizens from robbery or other crimes. Occasional oak and rowan trees dotted the cityscape, with benches beneath--pleasant places to rest and relax.

Laid out with winding, convoluted streets to discourage foreign invaders, Moytura presented an intricate arrangement of byways and alleys that challenged all newcomers. Keriam knew every street by heart and where to make her purchases, whether it is perfume, silk scarves, or vases. Today, however, she didn't have shopping in mind.

Her head turning right to left, she passed the remaining stores without a second glance, ignoring a juggler and the dancing monkey, although at any other time their antics would have amused her.

"I'm thirsty, madam," Maudina said. "Couldn't we stop at a tavern and--"

"Yes," Keriam snapped, then quickly repented her impatience. "Only wait until I see ... um, something I want to buy."

"Madam, we've passed all kinds of pretty clothes and jewelry, just the sort of things you like." She peered at Keriam. "Are you looking for someone?"

"Of course not," Keriam said. "Really, you have a very lively imagination. Now if you'll only--"

Ah! Clad in a deep green tunic and leather belt that reflected the sunlight from its wide surface, Roric Gamal stood outside the silversmith's shop, talking to an older man Keriam recognized as a wealthy and influential merchant. Was the major enlisting his help in the plot against her father? Goddess damn this man!

A fur-trimmed plaid cloak rode his broad shoulders, billowing in the breeze, his dark brown hair swirling around his neck. A sheathed sword dangled from his belt, the scabbard expensive and finely-wrought, she could tell even from a distance. Her father must pay him a good salary, she fumed, this man who would betray him. He looked for all the world like a casual shopper, like one who had nothing better to do than while away the hours in the city. The man should be an actor! Her body tensed, every muscle taut with fear for her father and hatred for this traitor.

She had to get away from her maid, had to contrive a meeting with this betrayer.

After one more hasty glance in the direction of the silversmith, Keriam drew a copper piece from a velvet purse attached to her belt and pressed the coin into her maid's hand. "Here, take this and buy yourself a cup of tea," she said, nodding toward the Black Boar. "And buy yourself something pretty with what's left over." She made a shooing motion. "Now go. You can meet me here later."

"Well, I guess it won't hurt to leave you for a few minutes. Thank you, madam."

Thank the Goddess! Keriam hurried on, weaving her way purposefully among the crowds, almost bumping into a little boy dragged along by his mother. She kept the major in sight, wondering how much longer her luck would hold, so afraid he'd soon disappear.

She stopped a few feet from him, as he was bidding his companion goodbye. Her face set in nonchalance, she strolled in front of him. Unclasping her ivory bracelet, she let it fall to the ground.

"My lady."

She turned in feigned surprise. "Yes?"

Roric Gamal handed her the bracelet. "Is this yours?" A hint of recognition touched his face, gone so quickly she wondered if she'd only imagined it.

She smiled. "Thank you. How careless of me." Taking the bracelet from him, she pretended to lose her balance and pressed her hand to his arm to steady herself. An image of him and General Balor flashed in her head, the two of them together--scheming? A jumble of his emotions rampaged through her head--sorrow and fear, worry and guilt, but above all, determination and pride. Each emotion conflicted with the others, a fierce struggle that made her head pound.

She swayed as the ground tilted around her.

"My lady, are you unwell?" He reached for her arm, then let his hand drop to his side, a look of concern on his face.

Grappling with her dizziness, she brought her mind back to reality. "I ... I don't know what came over me." Lightly, she touched her forehead. "A slight headache but nothing to worry about, I'm sure."

"I hope for your sake you don't have a fever." He placed his hand under her elbow, a gesture that prompted a hot rush of anger, intensifying her pain and dizziness. Talmora! Ban this man from the Otherworld. She wished she could kill him now with her bare hands, choke every breath from his body.

"Permit me to lead you to the inn," he said, nodding toward the Snow Leopard. "Perhaps their healing tea will make you feel better." He smiled her way. "We can hope, anyway."

Why not? This was what she wanted, the perfect opportunity to discover more of the conspiracy, in a clandestine way, of course. Fighting to keep her anger in check, she knew she mustn't appear too anxious.

"I appreciate your kindness, but I should go home soon." She pressed her hand to her forehead, matching her slow step with his. "Oh, my head is still pounding."

"Then it's just as well we've reached the inn," the major said, opening the heavy oak door for her. "And may I say, madam, it surprises me to see such a fine lady without her maid."

She made a dismissive gesture as he led her to a round table in a far corner. "Oh, well, the girl is somewhat flighty, wanting to see this, looking at that, stopping at all the stores. So I left her to gaze to her heart's content."

The dining room appeared dark as night after the bright sunshine, and she had to focus her eyes to get her bearings. Swallowing hard, she determined her fury would not get the best of her. She suppressed a shiver as the major helped remove her cape, then slid his cloak off, hanging them both on a rack next to their table. She didn’t want him touching her.

Her glance covered the dimly-lit room, where beeswax candles burned in iron sconces and deer and elk heads dotted the walls. A stained glass window of red, blue, green, and yellow lined a far wall, the colors appearing dull now, the sunlight at the wrong angle. The aromas of ale and roast beef wafted in the air, although only a few customers patronized the inn at this mid-morning hour.

Roric looked up as the innkeeper came to their table. "Spiosra tea for the lady and ale for me." He glanced her way. "Is spicy tea agreeable with you?"

"Tea is fine." If she could drink it without choking, she fumed, her stomach knotting with hurt anger.

"I believe your excellent honey cakes might be in order, too," Roric said, looking her way again.

"Very good, sir."

After the innkeeper walked away, Roric leaned closer, his elbows on the table. "Madam, let us be honest with each other. You are the king's daughter, so no use pretending otherwise."

"I wasn't pretending. You didn't ask my name, which is Keriam."

"Yes, of course."

"I saw no reason to give you my name or to ask yours." You traitor!

"Which is Roric Gamal," he responded, inclining his head, "formerly an army officer but now a courier for your father, since we have been at peace for so long. Although," he said with a slight smile, "I’ve retained my officer's rank."

"Yes, I’ve seen you at the palace many times." And after today, she agonized how she could bear to see him at the palace again, this conspirator who would kill the king--her father!--and wreak such havoc on the kingdom, doubtless for the gold it would garner him.

An amber pendant dangled from a gold chain around his neck, glimmering in the candle glow, and a heavy gold signet ring caught her attention. Directly above his heart a palace emblem was stitched on his tunic, evidence he served the king. As a child, she'd learned the words emblazoned there, We will keep faith. And with whom was he keeping faith? Not her father or the kingdom. May the Goddess strike this man dead!

He gave her a cautious glance from under his lashes while he drummed his long fingers on the table. "Are you feeling better now, madam?" he asked after a period of uncomfortable silence.

"Much better. I don't know what came over me." What a lie, she thought as so many sensations still roiled inside her. Her breathing came fast and hard, chills racing along her arm.

The innkeeper returned with their order, distracting them momentarily from further conversation.

Keriam disregarded the sights and scents of the dining room, aware she needed all her faculties to deal with this devious man. She reached for her cup of steaming tea, agonizing how much longer she could keep up the pretense, ready to fling the hot brew in his face.

He slid the plate of honey cakes toward her. "Please, have one of these. I assure you they are quite delicious."

She took a careful sip of the spicy tea, then set the cup down with a shaky hand. "Sorry, I'm afraid I have no appetite at this hour, so soon after the morning meal." She strove to keep her voice even, for surely her anger would give her away.

"How long have you served my father?" she asked, playing for time.

Raising the mug to his mouth, he paused. "For eleven years, since I was a lad of twenty."

Twenty, she thought in surprise. Her age.

"Tell me, what is your opinion of the king? Do you think he's a good ruler? An honest answer, please." As if he would tell her the truth! You Goddess-damned traitor! If I had a knife I’d kill you now.

"If I considered him an incompetent ruler--which I don't--do you think I would tell you? Or that I would serve him? Don't be naive, Princess Keriam."

"Naive?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

He dipped his head. "My apologies, princess. But if revealing my honest opinion could prove harmful to me, I would surely not confide in you, of all people."

"No, I suppose not." She gave him a level look across the table. "The king's wish for an alliance with Elegia is no secret. What do you think of this plan?"

Roric drank his ale and set the mug down. "A good idea. Such a union would greatly strengthen the country. Avador badly needs a seaport, an easy means of getting goods and supplies into the country and exporting our merchandise." He nodded. "I'm in favor of an alliance with King Barzad."

Liar! She recalled his words the night of her spectral travel, his plans to kill her father. Her turmoil increased, waves of anger pulsing through her body, her heart thudding, her hands clenched in her lap. How could he sit here and feign innocence, pretend to go along with her father's wishes, when all the time he plotted to assassinate the king!

"Madam...." The major leaned forward, looking worried.

Fury raged inside her, an emotion she felt powerless to control. It surged through her body, growing stronger, more intense, making her tremble, her hands shake. She wanted to call back her anger, for it would only defeat her purpose. Why couldn't she learn to harness her abilities, to master them and never let them get the best of her?

Besides, she needed time to discover more about the scheme. She relaxed her hands, trying to present a picture of cool insouciance, knowing that any minute now--

"Princess Keriam, I fear you still have not recovered from--"

--she would explode!

The mug in his hand shattered, the glass flying in every direction, ale spraying through the air.

"What--what?" Blood trickled down his hand and dripped onto the table, leaving red splotches on the wood.

Roric stared at the mug remnant in his hand, then at the spot of blood on the table. "In the name of the Goddess, how did this happen?"

Keriam pressed her hand to her forehead. Why had she let her anger get the better of her? She might never have another meeting with this traitor, another chance to discover more of the plot. Her heart sank, regret weighing her down.

Towels in hand, the innkeeper hustled over in obsequious solicitude. "My apologies, my lord." He handed a towel to Roric and sponged up the blood on the table. "I can't imagine how this happened. These are fine mugs, thick glass, the best money can buy."

"No harm done, just a cut." Roric pressed the cloth to his hand and looked her way, an anxious frown on his face. "And you, madam?"

Jerked back to the moment, she brushed at the spots on her dress. "Only a few drops of ale, nothing to consult the druids about."

The innkeeper clasped and unclasped his hands. "My lord, may I get you another mug of ale?"

"No." Roric waved him away, his gaze on her. "I'm afraid this has turned out to be a rather unfortunate encounter. I'm sorry, Princess Keriam."

"Not your fault. I'll survive the experience."

A gradual rise in temperature and a brightening in the room revealed the passage of time, the stained glass windows shining like jewels. She must fetch her maid and return to the palace, else her father would worry. He wanted and expected her to join him for the midday meal. A rush of affection for her father swept over her, coupled with regret that she was no closer to rooting out any information about the plot or the plotters. This meeting had been a waste of time. But perhaps not. It had taught her one thing--she must learn to control her power, use it only to serve her purpose.

Most important, she had to save her father.