Beneath a Midnight Moon

Gradually, life at the castle returned to normal. Hardane's brothers and sister took their leave one by one, returning to their own lands. Morissa promised to send word as soon as her child was born.

In the days that followed, Kylene noticed that her father and Sharilyn were spending more and more time in each other's company.

She often saw them strolling through the gardens, walking side by side, so close that Sharilyn's skirts brushed against Carrick's legs, though they never touched hands. On rainy days they could usually be found sitting in one of the small anterooms, companionably quiet as they watched the wind and the rain.

When she remarked on it to Hardane, he simply shrugged. They were of a similar age, he remarked. Carrick was in a strange land. Sharilyn was in need of solace. It seemed logical that they would seek each other out.

As time went on, the despair and sadness that had been etched on Sharilyn's features lessened. She began to smile again. She listened to Kylene's ideas for turning the bedroom adjoining Hardane's into a nursery, and began to spend her evenings sewing things, not only for Morissa's baby, which was due any day, but for Kylene's twin sons as well.

A fortnight after the funeral, a messenger arrived to announce that Morissa had been delivered of a healthy baby girl. Sharilyn left Castle Argone the next morning, and Carrick went with her.

For the first time, Kylene found herself in charge of the keep. It fell to her to decide what would be served at meals, to settle a dispute between the scullery maid and the cook, to determine if new rushes should be laid in the Great Hall.

It was a new experience, being the mistress of a castle. All her life, she had been accustomed to taking orders, not giving them.

Sharilyn had been away only a few days when another messenger arrived at the keep. Though the hour was late, he insisted on seeing Hardane.

Kylene sat up in bed, yawning as she watched Hardane pull on his breeches.

"Go back to sleep," he said, ruffling her hair. "I won't be long."

With a nod, she snuggled under the covers and closed her eyes. These days, she needed little encouragement to sleep. It seemed she was tired all the time. And when she wasn't sleeping, she was eating everything in sight.

With a wry grin, she spread her hands over her belly. She was as big as a horse, she thought, but Hardane didn't seem to mind. He still looked at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Often, in the evening, he spread his large hands over her swollen belly, smiling with delight as the life within her moved under his fingertips. Sometimes they walked in the gardens, spinning dreams of the future.

She was almost asleep when she heard the door open. Scooting over to Hardane's side of the bed, she waited for him to join her.

She frowned when he didn't come right to bed. Sitting up, she saw him standing at the window staring down into the garden below.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"Bourke's dead."

"Dead? How? When?"

"I'm not sure. It took the messenger over a fortnight to get here with word of his death."

Kylene stared at Hardane's profile, her mind whirling at the implications of what he'd said.

"That's not the worst of it," Hardane remarked. "Renick has married Selene, and she's claimed the throne."

Slipping out of bed, Kylene crossed the floor to stand behind Hardane, her arms wrapped around his waist.

"What will happen now?"

"I don't know. It seems the people of Mouldour have accepted Renick as Lord High Sovereign and acknowledged Selene's right to the throne through your father's bloodline."

"This means war, doesn't it?"

"Perhaps," Hardane said with a shrug. "And perhaps Renick will be content with Mouldour."

"But you don't think he'll be satisfied to rule Mouldour for long, do you? You think he'll want the throne of Argone as well?"

Hardane nodded. Mouldour was a cold and barren land, and though it was rich in ore and other valuable minerals, it lacked the verdant valleys and wooded hillsides of Argone. Sheep and cattle flourished here. The land was rich and fertile, and there was fresh water in abundance. For years untold, the people of Argone had defended their homeland against invaders. So far, they'd managed to drive their enemies away.

Kylene pressed her cheek against her husband's back. She could feel his concern, his worry for her, for his people.

Drawing away, she began to rub Hardane's back, her fingers kneading deep into his taut muscles. War, she thought bleakly. But surely Hardane would not go to battle. He was the Lord High Ruler of Argone. If he went out to fight, who would stay behind and defend the throne?

"Put your mind at ease, lady," he murmured. "I won't leave you unprotected."

Turning to face her, he drew her into his arms, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head.

Kylene wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight as her mind filled with images of bloodshed, of men dying, of women weeping.

"Don't dwell on it, beloved," he chided softly. "Tomorrow I'll send Jared and a handful of men to Mouldour to look around. I've already sent runners to my brothers and Eben to warn them to be ready. There's nothing else to be done until we know what Renick's intentions are."

She knew he meant to soothe her, to ease her fears, but she couldn't help remembering the implacable hatred in the Lord High Interrogator's eyes when he spoke of Hardane, the look of greed on his face when he spoke of conquering Argone.

"He killed Bourke, didn't he?"

"I don't know, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"And he'll kill you, if he gets the chance."

"Kylene . . ."

"We'll never be safe as long as he lives, will we?"

Hardane expelled a deep breath. There was nothing to be gained by lying to her. She'd felt the wrath of the Interrogator; she knew what atrocities he was capable of.

"Let's not speak of it now," Hardane said. Swinging her into his arms, he carried her to bed and drew the blankets around her. "Go back to sleep."

Kylene caught his hand in hers. "Come to bed."

It was in his mind to refuse. He was too keyed up to rest. He had plans to make, people to consult with. He needed to speak to Kruck, to Jared, to Teliford. He needed to send messages to his brothers, to Morissa, to his mother. The people of Argone needed to be warned so that they could round up their animals, arm their men, fortify their homes. So much to do. And yet, as he gazed into Kylene's eyes and saw the love and concern reflected there, he knew he could not deny her this one simple request.

Slipping under the covers, he drew her to him and held her close all through the night, and as he drifted to sleep, he prayed that war could be avoided, that he might be able to spend tomorrow night, and every night, lying in Kylene's arms.