Page 8 of A Kiss of Healing & Honor (Darkstone Academy #4)

Painted and primped, I followed Mama up the narrow wooden steps onto the deck. My temples were aching from the pull of my tightly braided hair, and the heavy skirts of my new gown dragged at my hands as I tried to avoid stepping on the hem.

Bright sunlight assaulted my eyes as we emerged into the fresh air. Blinking, I stopped at the top of the stairs and looked around.

The sound of someone chanting an Air invocation caught my attention.

I spotted a young, dark-haired man dressed in rich clothing with the Duke de Norhas’ double-mountain badge on his chest. He looked somehow familiar but I couldn’t place him.

He stood at the ship’s railing with an expression of intense concentration, his arms outstretched and his eyes closed, as he chanted an Air spell for the steady wind that pulled the ship’s sails into a taut, full curve above us.

My chest tightened with panic as I took in the vast blue expanse surrounding us in all directions.

The duke’s small fleet of a half-dozen ships sailed in our wake, tailed by a horde of squawking gulls. Other than that, nothing but cobalt waves tipped with white foam and a pale blue sky dotted with clouds.

I scanned all around me and finally spotted Darkstone Island. It was a mere smudge on the line separating the sea from the sky, its volcano peak barely visible above the horizon.

So much for jumping overboard and trying to swim to shore, I thought bleakly.

I considered myself an excellent swimmer, thanks to a childhood spent in and around the River Rouse. But I knew the distance was too great to cross except in a vessel. Even if the ocean’s currents didn’t exhaust me, the depths held many hungry creatures in search of a tasty morsel floundering on the surface.

The sight of the ocean waves brought Tama to mind. Had he and the others noticed yet that I’d been taken from the castle and away from the island?

If so, they must be frantic with worry about me.

Mama broke into my thoughts. “Dearest, don’t dawdle. Duke Beltràn is waiting for us. You wouldn’t want the food to grow cold, would you?”

Ah, yes. Breakfast with the traitor duke. I lost what little appetite I had.

Hating how helpless I felt, I let her lead me to a plain door at the ship’s stern.

My pulse hammered in my ears at the prospect of coming face to face with the ruthless Duke de Norhas.

Mama startled me by poking a finger into my ribs. “Don’t slouch,” she hissed in a familiar refrain from my childhood. “And don’t forget your manners.”

Obediently, I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath as the guard raised a fist to knock on the duke’s door.

A deep voice called, “Enter!”

As the door swung inward, I expected to see opulent furnishings of the type Boreas favored. Rich tapestries adorning the walls, expensive imported carpets cushioning the floor—that sort of thing.

Instead, the large cabin was austere. The wooden walls were painted plain white, and the floorboards were clean but bare. The only luxuries were a mahogany writing desk and chair tucked in one corner, a large dining table bolted to the floorboards in the center of the cabin, and a huge, multi-paned window that took up most of the cabin’s rear wall. It flooded the cabin with light and provided an unobstructed view of the sea and one of the following ships.

The left wall of the cabin was concealed by a floor-to-ceiling curtain made of unadorned sailcloth. I guessed it hid a bunk or bed behind it.

At our entrance, the four people already seated at the table rose to acknowledge us with bows and curtsies.

Shock raced through me as I recognized my Fundamentals of Magecraft instructor, Miray Ysandre, standing next to Lady Margitts. Betrayal coated my tongue, acrid and bitter.

The tall, handsome young man standing on Lady Margitts’ other side had a wealth of auburn curls cascading down to the high collar of his richly embroidered tunic. He bore a strong resemblance to the late Lord Roderigo.

His beautiful mouth curled in distaste as he swept me with a dark, contemptuous glance.

I stared back at him coolly, guessing he was one of the duke’s kinsmen.

Then the older man seated at the head of the table caught my attention by coming towards us.

Duke Beltràn de Norhas—for it couldn’t be anyone else—cut an imposing figure.

He was tall, black-haired, and broad-shouldered. His hair had turned to silver at his temples, and he wore the severe blue uniform of an imperial military commander. He had an air of command, with brilliant gray eyes that held me transfixed.

“Princess Jonquil.” The duke’s voice was smooth as honey as he swept into a low bow before Mama. “I’m honored you could join me.”

Smiling fondly, Mama inclined her head. “How could I refuse the opportunity to spend more time with you, Duke Beltràn?”

Her simpering tone horrified me. I stared at her incredulously. I’d never heard her sound like this before.

Blushing, Mama offered the duke her hand. Still bowing, he placed a lingering kiss on her fingers.

Then she turned to me and pulled me forward. “This is my eldest daughter, Jacinthe.”

“Princess Jacinthe.” The duke bowed to me, his lips curving into a surprisingly warm smile that made his eyes glow. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard so much about you from Princess Jonquil.”

“You kidnapped me,” I replied in my coldest voice. “How much of an honor is that?”

Mama poked me sharply in the arm. “Jacinthe! Remember your manners! We’re not in Bernswick anymore.”

To the duke, she said, “Duke Beltràn, my most sincere apologies! I raised my daughter to pass as a simple villager. I have yet to instruct her how to behave as a member of the imperial family.”

My stomach curdled at her breathless tone.

“No offense taken, Your Highness.” The duke waved a dismissive hand and smiled indulgently at me.

I choked on bile.

He continued, “Princess Jacinthe, I understand you must be disoriented right now. I apologize most sincerely for the necessity of extracting you from the academy’s clutches by such crude means. I’ll explain everything over breakfast, I promise. But first, I have a gift for Your Highness.”

He picked up a polished wooden box from the table. It was decorated with honey-colored inlays of precious amber.

The duke opened the lid, revealing velvet lining and a wide golden bangle set with a band of square-cut garnets.

Before I could protest, he seized my hand and slid the bracelet over my wrist. It settled against my skin, cool and heavy.

The duke’s hand remained on the bangle, covering it. His gaze bored into mine. His voice dropped to a murmur. “Princess Jacinthe, can we put aside our differences and work together for the good of the Dominion?”

The gold suddenly turned burning hot. A tingle of magic pulsed against my skin and exploded into a full-fledged spell. Fire raced up the veins of my arm, over my shoulder, and washed up the side of my neck like lava before settling over my head like an evil cap.

A compulsion charm! I recognized the spell from my studies.

Then I realized that the magic wasn’t taking root inside my skull. It clung to the surface of my skin like a prickly cloak and tingled my scalp, but seemed unable to penetrate further.

Spells had always behaved strangely around me, and often failed to work at all. Once I’d discovered the truth about my heritage, Mage Armand had speculated that my Wind-Walker blood foiled some types of human magic.

My mind screamed at me to yank my arm out of his grasp, tear off the bangle, and fling it away.

At the last moment, a second thought hit me.

I was trapped on this ship. And bound into a restrictor collar that left me at the duke’s complete mercy.

Besides Mama, everyone I cared about—and who cared about me—were stranded on the island rapidly disappearing below the horizon behind the duke’s fleet.

Even worse, Mama wore a matching gold-and-garnet bangle around her wrist, confirming that the duke held her captive with the same compulsion charm he’d just tried to put on me.

If I wanted the time and space to find an opportunity to free us both, I needed to convince the duke that his foul black magic had worked on me.

I forced my lips into a vacuous smile, meeting the duke’s gaze with friendliness I didn’t feel. “Of course, Your Grace. I only want what’s best for everyone. And if Mama trusts you, so do I.”

The lie burned my throat. But I choked it down like a bitter healing potion and prayed to the Mother of All that he’d believe my act.

Triumph glinted in the duke’s eyes. “I’m so glad we understand each other, Your Highness. With your cooperation and your esteemed mother’s help, I’m certain we can bring a new era of peace and prosperity to the Dominion.”

I nodded. “That would be nice.”

The duke turned to the handsome young man, his lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Fernan, come and meet your betrothed.”

Fernan? The duke’s son and heir, if I remembered correctly.

I schooled my features into a mask of polite interest as the young man stepped forward, his dark brown eyes meeting mine with a mix of curiosity and…

Is that sympathy? I wondered.

Lord Roderigo had referred to Fernan as a monster.

And if Roderigo, of all people, considered his cousin a monster… An icy chill ran down my spine.

“Your Highness, may I introduce my son and heir, Fernan de Norhas, Count of Lutèce?” the duke asked me.

“Delighted to meet you,” I lied, extending my hand in imitation of Mama’s imperious manner.

Fernan’s fingers were cold against my skin. There was a sullenness in his expression and a rebellious set to his jaw that told me he was no more pleased with this situation than I was.

“Your most obedient servant, Your Imperial Highness,” Fernan said, speaking the old-fashioned phrase in a monotone.

I felt his warm breath brush across my knuckles as he bowed stiffly over my hand.

He straightened up and released his grasp on me.

“Princess Jacinthe, I must apologize for my father’s actions. This is not how I would have chosen to meet my future bride.”

I blinked, taken aback by his forthrightness. Before I could respond, the duke let out a sharp laugh.

“Nonsense, Fernan. This is precisely how it has to be, given the circumstances. The princess will understand, in time.”

Fernan’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Understand what, Father? That we’ve kidnapped her from the academy? That we’re holding her against her will? That you’re openly using black ma—”

“Mind your tongue, boy!” the duke snapped. “You forget yourself.”

Interesting, I thought, shooting a sideways glance at Mama.

Her painted lips were parted and a fine line creased the smooth space between the thin, plucked lines of her dark brows as she watched the confrontation.

But Fernan seemed undeterred. He met his father’s gaze unflinchingly, his voice low but fierce. “And you’re forgetting the consequences of your actions, Father. Or do you relish the thought of both our heads decorating pikes on the walls of Neapolis Capitola?”

The duke’s face reddened. I saw his hand clench into a fist, as if he longed to strike his son. But he restrained himself, instead turning to me with a tight smile.

“Please forgive my son, Your Highness. He’s always been a bit… dramatic.”

Fernan glowered, his face flushing.

“Oh, that’s all right. He’s so handsome!” I made an airy gesture and forced myself to giggle.

My mind was racing.

Fernan seemed as opposed to his father’s cause as I was.

Could he be an ally? Or is this just another ploy designed to make me trust him?

I remembered how Lord Roderigo and Lady Erzabetta had played the good jailer/bad jailer game in the castle’s dungeon to get me to comply with their demands.

The duke, eager to change the subject, reached into his doublet and withdrew a folded parchment. With a flourish, he opened it, holding it out for Fernan to see.

My heart stopped. I recognized the elegant script in the late Lady Erzabetta’s hand, with her signature below my own. And the small oval thumbprint made with my blood.

It was the betrothal contract Lady Erzabetta had forced me to sign to save Gwydion from his Curse of Thorns. In the weeks since I’d signed it and sealed it, I’d tried to forget its existence.

Back then, I’d been desperate to help my friends. And the chances of the Duke de Norhas and his heir ever getting their hands on this document had seemed extremely unlikely.

How wrong I was!

Lady Margitts. She must have brought it with her, another betrayal to add to her treachery.

I wanted to glare at her smug visage, smirking at me from her seat at the table. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, I swallowed my fury and disgust, and smiled as prettily as I could at the duke.

“Ah yes, the betrothal contract,” I chirped. “Now that I’ve met Count Fernan, I can’t wait to marry him! I hope you find it all in order, Your Grace.”

He smiled, a shark’s smile, all teeth and no warmth. “Indeed, I do, princess. Indeed, I do.” He tapped the parchment with a ringed forefinger. “Though I wish you hadn’t insisted on a timeline quite so… long.”

“My studies are very important to me.” I beamed at him, praying that my smile wouldn’t waver. “They tell me I have strong healer-mage potential.”

I’d negotiated hard with Lady Erzabetta to delay the promised marriage until after I’d completed my course of study and taken the imperial board examination to become a certified mage-healer.

The duke turned to Fernan. “And now, my son, it’s time for you to do your duty.”

He pulled a fountain pen from his doublet pocket and uncapped it before offering it to his son.

Fernan drew himself upright, his shoulders stiffening. “Father, do you really want to pollute our bloodline with a half-Dragon abomination?”

Useful to know what he really thinks of me, I thought, struggling to control my expression.

“Silence!” The duke’s voice was like a whip-crack, sharp and unforgiving. “You will sign this contract, Fernan. And you will seal it in blood. And you will do so with no further whining.”

I watched, my heart twisting, as a succession of emotions raced across Fernan’s face: revulsion at the idea of marrying me, dread of defying his father, anger at having his hand forced.

“Fernan.” The duke’s tone was softer now, almost gentle. “Do your duty to our family. Sign and seal the contract, and one day, you will be dominus as well as duke.”