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  MOON DANCE

  A Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Novel

  CHRISTINE POPS

  Dark Valentine Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  If You Enjoyed This Book…

  Also by Christine Pope

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  “Goodness, Iselda,” my Aunt Lyselle called out to me just as I passed the small salon where she sat with her embroidery, “I would think you have had enough sunshine for one day!”

  The sunshine was not the real reason why I had decided to flee the castle once again, but I did not wish to enter into that particular conversation with my aunt. Also, I wondered whether anyone could truly get “enough” sunshine, but all I said was, “Don’t worry, Auntie — I am bringing my hat.” And a basket with a book to keep me amused and a small flask of cool water to prevent me from becoming too warm, although I did not bother to tell her that.

  My reply seemed to reassure her that I would not return at the end of the afternoon looking browned and quite unladylike, for she lifted her shoulders and returned to her attention to the piece of fine linen, half-covered in delicate blue forget-me-nots, which covered her lap. “Dinner is at seven,” she said as she raised her needle once again.

  I offered a smile, although I did not bother to reply. Dinner had always been at seven ever since I came to live here some six years earlier, but I supposed she found it reassuring to remind me of the household’s routine, especially because I had a tendency to lose myself in a book and quite forget what time it actually was.

  Of my cousins there was no sign. I assumed they must all be up in my eldest cousin Adalynn’s suite, for my aunt’s maid, who had been overseeing the construction of the wedding wardrobe, had just this morning brought up the last of the dresses she’d created, including the all-important wedding gown. Adalynn was to be married to the only son of the Earl of Delmayne, a very great triumph for the daughter of a simple baron. That wedding would take place in less than a week, which meant the household had been thrown into quite the uproar during the past few days as the preparations for that all-important event grew more and more frenzied.

  It also meant that I had begun to find whatever excuses I could to flee the chaos as often as was possible. My aunt, I feared, knew very well why I had made myself so scarce, but as she was a kind-hearted soul, she did not bother to remonstrate with me, for she knew I was not entirely happy about my current circumstances. Adalynn was only a year older than I, twenty to my nineteen, and yet I had no betrothed, and few prospects for one.

  The reasons for my regrettably single state were well known to nigh everyone in the kingdom. Not because of anything I had done, or because of any particular objections to my person, for, as my aunt always hastened to say — “no one could deny that you have grown into a very lovely young woman, Iselda!”

  No, the reason for my fairly ineligible status was that my sister had fallen into a terrible trap through no fault of her own. Our father, I fear, was a most intemperate man, and one night while he was in his cups, boasted that she had the ability to spin straw into gold. While Annora was an accomplished needlewoman, even she did not possess that particular talent. Her life would have been forfeit at the old king’s whim, were it not that a man of singular talents had stepped in to save her.

  But magic, even of the sort that could create gold from nothing and the finest of precious stones from thin air, had been forbidden for centuries in our kingdom of Purth, and once the lovers were found out, both their lives were once more at risk. Tobyn — the man who loved my sister, and was now my brother-in-law — could do nothing except kill the mad king to save the woman of his heart, and as a result, both of them were forced to flee our homeland, never to return. The scandal, I was told by my cousins, did not die down for many months, and still was resurrected from time to time, even so many years after my sister and Tobyn had gone into exile.

  I, being a mere thirteen at the time, had nothing to do with any of those goings-on, although my younger self had thought the whole affair tremendously exciting. Unfortunately, merely to be a member of the Kelsden family was enough to taint my prospects, and so, even though I had been spirited away to live with my unreproachable aunt and her daughters, I still had had no offers of marriage.

  Most of the time I found myself reasonably resigned to my situation. Perhaps I could remain and be a companion to my aunt as my cousins were married off one by one. Adalynn was the lucky bride now, but the eldest son of Count Bellender was staying with us for a few weeks, mainly to see if he and my cousin Carella would suit. Lord Mayson had been engaged to be married from the time he was a very small boy, but his betrothed had died of a fever several months earlier, and now his father was eager to get him engaged again.

  It was a good plan, save for one unfortunate thing — Lord Mayson showed very little interest in Carella, although he had been quite friendly with me. Too friendly, some might think, and yet there was little I could do about the situation.

  Was it any wonder that I tried to escape the confines of my aunt and uncle’s castle as often as I could without seeming too irresponsible?

  The day was bright and windy, and I tied the ribbons of my hat securely under my chin as I made my way to my favorite spot on the estate, down near the edge of a stream that wandered lazily along between green banks dotted with forget-me-nots and daisies. A great willow overhung the water there, and I could be guaranteed of shade so as not to darken my pale skin.

  However, I had not sat there for so very long before I heard the rustle of footsteps in the green grass. A moment later, Lord Mayson appeared, his own dark head bare to the sun and the wind. He smiled when he spotted me sitting under the willow, and approached.

  “Good day, Lady Iselda.”

  To be truthful, I had no actual claim to that title. It was my three cousins, or Lady Janessa, another of my aunt’s wards, who should be addressed thus. But I supposed that the young lord thought it rude to simply call me Iselda, or to refer to me as “mistress,” which would indicate that I was of lower birth than he.

  “Good afternoon, Lord Mayson,” I replied as I set down my book. “How do you fare this day?”

  “Well enough,” he said, then sat down on a fallen log not too far from the one I currently occupied. “But I will confess that I was beginning to feel somewhat…confined.”

  Meaning, I supposed, that my uncle the baron had been giving him more not-so-subtle hints. I loved my Uncle Danly far more than I loved my own father, for he possessed a kind heart equal to my aunt’s, but subtle he was not.

  “I am sorry,” I said, holding out my flask of water. “Something to wet your throat?”

  Lord Mayson took the water from me and allowed himself one carefully measured swallow. That was like him; he would not wish to leave me without enough to quench my own thirst on the walk back to the house.

  “I do not think my uncle will be pleased to learn that you have sought me out, however,” I went on.

  “No, I suppose not,” Mayson agreed. He returned the flask to me, and I set it down on the hollow log where I sat.

  An uncomfortable little silence fell, only
partially obscured by the chatter of the stream a few yards away. This was not like us, for we had found one another easy to talk to almost from the time his lordship had come to stay at my uncle and aunt’s castle. We had read many of the same books, enjoyed walking outdoors, and had little use for court intrigue.

  Not that I’d had much of an opportunity to experience court life myself, exiled here in the hinterlands as I was, but from what I’d heard, it did seem to be a place of gossip and backstabbing, even under the rule of our good King Harlin.

  Then Mayson said abruptly, “You and I have become good friends, have we not, Iselda?”

  I agreed that we had.

  Another pause. He was a tall, handsome man, well built and with a generally amiable aspect. Now, however, his dark eyes were stormy, his mouth a twist of dissatisfaction. This expression was so unlike him that I almost commented on it, but then decided to hold my tongue. Clearly, he had come out here to say something to me, and I thought it best for him to come to it in his own time.

  And what if he wishes to make you his wife? I thought then. Uncle Danly and Aunt Lyselle will be dreadfully cross, even if they will do their best to hide it. And I fear that Carella will never speak to me again.

  I tried to tell myself that I was ranging far ahead of anything that had actually occurred. Lord Mayson had spoken no words of love to me, had paid me no flowery compliments to win my heart. But perhaps that was simply not his way…or perhaps he thought there was no real reason for him to do so, not when he was the son of an earl and I merely the daughter of a disgraced merchant who seemed intent on drinking himself to death.

  “So I believe that means we will suit very well,” Mayson went on.

  My eyes widened. “Are you saying what I think you are saying, my lord?”

  He flushed then, and looked away from me, toward the creek. I could see the muscles in his throat tighten as he swallowed. Then a bitter smile touched his mouth. “I am not sure what I myself am saying.” Shifting on the log where he sat, he turned back in my direction. “I thought — ” He stopped there, anguish clear in his friendly features, so ill-suited to such a look of torment.

  “Please, my lord,” I said, troubled by his obvious distress. “We just agreed that we were friends, did we not? And so friends can say anything they like to one another.” Or at least, I believed that to be the truth, even though I had no close friends. My cousins were the only real family I had here in Purth, and I loved them, but even after spending years together, they did not confide in me, nor I in them. They knew they would move on and leave me behind, because no one seemed to want me.

  “Yes, you are my friend, Iselda,” Lord Mayson said, his expression clearing somewhat. “What would you say if I told you that I did not wish to marry at all?”

  “You don’t?” I was rather pleased with the manner in which I asked the question, for I thought I had managed to sound curious, but not discouraged. And, to tell the truth, I wasn’t disappointed. I liked Lord Mayson very much, but I knew my attachment did not go any deeper than that.

  Or at least I did not think that it did.

  “No.” He stopped there, as if he’d intended to say something else but decided against it.

  “But….” I, too, paused as I searched for the right words. “But you were betrothed.”

  “An engagement arranged when I was not yet five years old,” Mayson said. “You know that is how it is done.”

  I could only nod. Younger siblings sometimes were allowed the luxury of waiting longer to find their matches, as was the case with my cousins Carella and Theranne, but Adalynn, the eldest, had been betrothed since almost the time she was born. And Mayson, being the heir to a title and a large estate, would also have had his matrimonial future decided before he was old enough to even really comprehend what marriage was.

  “However,” he continued, his voice heavy, “I know that is what is expected of me. I will do my duty. But I would find it much easier if the woman at my side was a friend, rather than simply someone my father thought suitable.”

  While I was glad to know Lord Mayson viewed me as a friend, I could not help but wince inwardly at his use of the word “suitable.” My cousin Carella was suitable; I, most assuredly, was not. Even if my family had not had the blot on its reputation because of what had happened to the former king, I was still only the youngest daughter of a merchant, and Mayson should be marrying someone with a far grander pedigree. “Perhaps you should merely tell your father that you need more time,” I ventured. “While I understand his wish to see you married, it is not so terribly urgent, is it? I had heard that his lordship is in good health.”

  At my comment, Lord Mayson actually laughed, although his laughter had a grim edge to it, as if he knew something more about the matter than he was letting on. “Yes,” he said, “my father is in excellent health, and very robust for a man in his late forties. But I fear that is not enough to prevent him from reminding me of how I should be fulfilling my duties as the heir to the earldom.”

  “If that is his desire, then I doubt very much he would be happy to learn that you had set your sights on someone as lowly as myself.” Mayson frowned then, and I added hastily, “That is, if such a thing is even your intention. I must confess that I find myself somewhat confused by what you have been trying to say to me.”

  “You and I both, Iselda.” He went silent for a moment, his fingers tugging restlessly at the loose lacings of his shirt. It was quite a warm day, warmer than usual for early June, and he had undone the ties that held together the high collar of the shirt he wore. Underneath, I could catch a glimpse of smoothly tanned skin, and I swallowed. There was something strangely enticing about the sight, even though I had told myself I did not really think of Mayson in such a way. “I came down here thinking I could speak to you honestly, but now…now I am not so certain.”

  “I think you have been very honest with me.”

  “Have I?” A short laugh with very little humor in it. He ceased playing with the laces on his shirt and instead shifted on the log where he sat so he could once again face toward the stream. It glittered and danced in the bright sunlight, enticing.

  If I had been there alone, I would have taken off my shoes and stockings, and hitched up my skirts so I might go wading in the creek and cool my feet, but of course I would never do something so unladylike in front of Lord Mayson. As it was, I pushed the heavy hair off the back of my neck and wished I had thought to pull it back with a ribbon. That hair, long and golden and reaching nearly to my waist, had won me a number of compliments, but it was also extremely warm.

  As a young woman of nineteen summers, I should have begun to put it up, for girls my age only wore their hair down at grand events, but my Aunt Lyselle could be quite lax about such things when we did not have company. I supposed she did not think of Mayson as “company,” since she had known him since he was born, and because he was staying with us for such an extended period of time.

  He rose to his feet and walked down to the water, then paused there. For a few seconds, I thought perhaps he was going to do the very thing I had dreamed of — take off his boots and stockings and go wading to cool his feet. Instead, he squatted on the bank and trailed his fingers in the water, staring down at the creek as if it were the most important thing in his world.

  Then he turned and looked back at me, an unspoken plea in his eyes. “Would it be so very bad, to be the Countess of Bellender Rise?”

  As far as I could tell, there was no guile in that question. He truly wished to know my answer. I stood as well and came down toward him, then gazed up into his face. I did not have my sister’s height, and so even though he was not overly tall, I still could not look at him completely eye to eye. “It would be if you did not love me.”

  His eyebrows lifted, and his mouth twisted slightly. “I had no idea you were so romantic, Iselda.”

  “I — ”

  Was I romantic? True, I did spend a good deal of my time reading stories of places and peop
le from far away and long ago, and perhaps their tales had made me slightly less inclined to appreciate the here and now. But I knew that was not the real reason why I had given him the answer I did.

  No, I supposed I could blame my sister and her husband for that. Of course they had not done anything to mislead me, or tell me the world was different from the place it truly appeared to be.

  No, it was more that I had seen the way they gazed at one another. Poor Tobyn had been terribly disfigured when the former king tried to burn him at the stake because of his magical abilities, but those scars seemed to disappear when Tobyn looked at my sister, his face transformed by his devotion. True love had blazed from his eyes, just as that same passion had warmed hers when she looked back at him. She did not care what the fire had done to his face, for she loved his heart and soul and mind.

  I hadn’t realized it at the time, but when I saw them looking at each other in such a way, it was as if I had made a silent vow somewhere deep within my soul. If I could not be with a man who could also gaze at me with all the strength and beauty of his heart and know me to be his — and if I could not experience the same feelings as I gazed back at him — then I would rather spend my life alone.

  “Perhaps I am romantic,” I said, forcing a carelessness into my words that I did not quite feel. “But, even though I was a young girl when my mother passed away, I saw how she and my father fared together. They were not content, I fear, for theirs was a marriage arranged with no thought for their future happiness. It is better to be alone, I think, than to be with someone who cannot give you all of his heart.”