To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(27)

“It wasn’t a compliment, sweet wife,” Yajna corrected her. “It was a prophecy.” He exchanged a glance with his brother. “Master Volkan doesn’t give compliments.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Yavi agreed. He met Graciella’s gaze. “It would seem she was meant to come to Nandala.”

A young monk approached, bowing to them. “Mahajin, Mahithin, please follow me.”

They followed him out of the sanctuary, down a set of stone stairs, and across a patio to an isolated building overlooking the cliffs. A narrow staircase led down to a long hallway, and at the end of it their monk escort paused outside a heavy wooden door.

Graciella felt a surge of apprehension, and instinctively reached for Yavi’s arm. He squeezed her hand into the crook of his arm, drawing her a little closer into his side. She hadn’t seen Rafe since he was nine and she was fourteen. At the time, he’d been plagued with strange hallucinatory episodes, waking as well as sleeping nightmares, the unfortunate result of his encounter with Gerynwid the Shapeshifter. The vile witch had removed his heart but kept him alive with her spells and potions, and later made a deal with Jiandra to replace the heart and revive him, but Rafe had never been the same carefree, sweet boy he once was.

Yavi patted her hand comfortingly as the monk opened the door.

Jiandra stepped inside first. Before they sent Rafe to the monastery, she was the only person who could calm him when he was having an episode, and with the protection of the Omaja stone, there was no possibility of physical danger to her in his presence.

“Rafe?” she asked softly.

“Sister,” Graciella heard a deep voice respond from somewhere inside the room. Tears stung her eyes.

“Gracie is here to see you,” Jiandra told him.

Graciella waited, gripping Yavi’s arm. A tall, handsome young man came to the doorway, green eyes searching for her.

His expression softened when he saw her. “Gracie?”

“Yes, Rafe, it’s me,” she choked, her tears spilling over. Nostalgic images of their childhood, of playing together in the orchard and staying up late reading books together, flashed through her mind.

He reached out to her, and she rushed forward to grasp his hands. “You are so tall!”

“So are you,” he replied. “And beautiful.”

“Oh, sweet Rafe, I’ve missed you!” she sobbed, hugging him.

He froze a moment, but then embraced her.

Graciella pulled back and touched a curled lock of his thick, chestnut-brown hair that hung loosely over his shoulders. “Your hair is so long.”

“How is our brother, Elio?” he asked.

“He’s well, although he misses you very much. He’s still managing to run the farm while seeing Solange at the castle almost daily. He plans to propose to her soon.”

“She will need him by her side in the coming days.”

“Yes, I think you are right. They are madly in love.”

Jiandra laid a hand on Rafe’s arm. “Rafe, Yavi and Yajna are here to see you as well.”

Rafe looked up at them as they ducked inside the room. He pressed his palms together and bowed deeply.

“Brother,” Yajna said, extending a hand to him.

Rafe accepted it. “Sire.”

Yavi shook hands with him and patted his shoulder. “Is it Master Rafe yet?”

“No, Sire. I have much more training to complete.”

A monk appeared at the doorway, clearing his throat to interrupt. “We have prepared a tea for you. Follow me.”

§

“The foreign queen is with child,” Zelbikan announced in a wheezy, rattling voice as she rearranged her runes on her tablecloth with her long, crooked fingers.

Uman stared at his mother. “Are you certain?”

“The Zulfikars will produce an heir in eight months.”

“No!” Uman snarled, slamming his fist on the table. “And we can’t kill her unless we get her stone.” He whirled to face Terijin. “Curse the day I sent you to capture her sister, you incompetent piece of rubbish!”

Terijin wrung his hands nervously. “Sire, the babe will not be old enough to be a threat for many years. In the meantime, we can still take over the rule of Nandala if we kill the two emperors. Her stone does not protect them. Only her.”

“Fool!” Uman glared at him. “Most Nandals are fiercely loyal to the Zulfikar line. As long as there is an heir, they will fight us tooth and nail.”

“Sire, as soon as the child is born and separate from the queen’s body, I am certain we can execute him as well.”

“By then it will be too late. As soon as word gets out that she will bear a Zulfikar child, it will be difficult to squash the counter-rebellion that will surely rise against us.” Uman paced to the fireplace. “We must get the sister in order to get the stone. You failed before, but we will not fail again.”

Terijin nodded. “Yes, Sire.”





Six


Later that night Yavi lay on his back, hand resting on the emperor’s ruby that lay between his chest muscles, staring up at the canopy over his bed. Staring, but not seeing, because all he could envision was an image of Graciella’s lovely face, her pale-hazel eyes lit up with laughter, her dark, shiny hair escaping her hairpins to fall about the slender column of her graceful neck.