Olandon Read online

  He lifted his head at the quiet tap on the door. Moving from where he sprawled on the bed to the elegant Kaur desk and heavy chair, Olandon sat before calling, “Enter.”

  The door cracked open and through it slipped one of his mother’s Elite guards, Rian.

  Olandon nurtured a particular hatred for his mother’s Elite. They were usually the ones torturing his sister, after all. Yet Olina had said many times that she thought Rian could be different.

  “Rian,” Olandon said in greeting.

  The guard bowed quickly, his eyes shifting around the room. “Tatuma Olandon.”

  Olandon winced at the new title, grateful there would be a long time to get used to the concept of ruling after his mother. Maybe once Avanna was dead, he could convince Olina to come back, and then everything would be as before—she would be Tatum and he would be her Head of Guard. She could even bring Kedrick back, if she wanted.

  “You have a message from my mother,” Olandon ventured as the guard continued to fidget.

  “No, Tatuma. I,” the man swallowed, “I have information I believe you might be interested in. Something the Tatum would not wish you to know.”

  Despite himself, Olandon straightened, his gaze gaining a fresh intensity as he studied the guard. In his way, Olandon did love Avanna, but he didn’t trust her for a second—not after bandaging Olina up for the last ten years. Rian could have been sent by Avanna to test his loyalty. Even if that wasn’t the case, if Olandon listened to the information and the Tatum discovered he had, there would be consequences. The consequences, however, would be much larger for the guard. No Solati in their right mind would risk death to pass on mere information. But if they did, they’d probably look as nervous as Rian did, Olandon guessed.

  What Olandon really wished to know was why his sister left. Could Rian tell him that? Had Olina left word with Rian? Had the guard overheard a whispered conversation or plans?

  Olandon steeled himself, tilting his chin. “Speak it, then.”

  The guard’s shoulders sagged, and he licked his lips. “Yes, Tatuma. It is about your sister.”

  He managed to keep his face smooth, but his voice wavered as he replied, “She left for Glacium.”

  Rian took a step closer. “I thought you should know that Prince Kedrick’s body was found in the Kaur forest a week ago.”

  “His body.” A buzzing took up residence in his head. “Prince Kedrick is dead.”

  “Yes, Tatuma. An arrow to the heart.”

  Olandon shot to his feet, overturning the heavy chair. He rushed Rian, gripping the man’s forearms. “My sister, Rian. Tell me her body was not there too.”

  “N-no, Tatuma.”

  “Tell me!”

  The guard’s eyes were wide. “No, Tatuma. That is why I thought to tell you. The prince was found alone, so your sister can’t have run to Glacium with him.”

  Olandon let go and spun on the spot, his green robes billowing. His hand trembled where it covered his mouth.

  Kedrick was dead. Why would the Tatum kill him and not Olina? Or had she simply moved his sister’s body separately? Rian was a newer guard; he may not have been privy to all the happenings that night. Olandon ignored the guard to pace the room.

  If his sister was dead, finding her body would be impossible by now. More than that, Olandon couldn’t believe her dead. It just didn’t feel right.

  So if Olina wasn’t dead, where had Avanna put her?

  “Exile or death,” Olandon whispered, stopping in front of Rian.

  “Tatuma,” the man said, a wrinkle between his brows.

  A smile spread across Olandon’s face as he repeated. “Exile or death.”

  Chapter Five

  Greta lay atop the bedspread soaking wet from her own tears.

  She’d been crying for at least an hour after the conversation with Olandon, and the hour told her what her heart hadn’t believed back in the courtyard. Olandon didn’t love her. The months they’d spent together in secret, searching the archives for any clue about Olina’s real father, had been erased. Where was the man who laughed for her and no one else? Their earlier meeting had been so awkward and tense.

  Thick tears ran over her cheeks and onto the mattress. She sniffed as she sat, wiping her eyes on a fur cuff around her wrist. Hiccupping, she glared at the room, plain empty thing that it was. A basin, a trunk, a bed, and a wardrobe? Talk about not homey whatsoever. She supposed having furs and tapestries hanging about the chamber didn’t make sense here, unlike in the freezing temperatures of her world, but surely something could be done to take away the emptiness and uninterrupted black. The halls were dark, the rooms like prison cells. The outside of the palace was so beautiful, yet it was so gloomy inside.

  The reports from the other Bruma returning from tri-world exchanges hadn’t exactly been favorable. None of the Solati she’d passed on the way to the room had smiled back at her. In their defense, her smile may have been a tad brittle, but still, how hard was it to be nice to your guests?

  “I took a chance, and it backfired big time,” she said to the black, echoing chamber.

  Greta heaved a sigh, wiping at her face again. He’d just turned away from her, like she was nothing. Clearly, the Solati woman meant a lot to him. Had he come back to Osolis after months with Greta and fallen in love with the woman?

  Spite wasn’t within Greta. If Olandon meant to keep their history from his new lover, Greta wouldn’t stand in the way; she’d return to Glacium with Shard tomorrow morning, and she certainly wouldn’t start rumors before she left.

  Her eyes fell on the forest-green Solati robes hanging in the open wardrobe, and a wide smile spread across her face. What she would do was make Olandon fucking regret it. Not enough to ruin his new life, but enough to sooth her hurt pride.

  “I can’t believe I’m wearing a dress,” Galan said from beside Greta. The Bruma male, a friend from the assembly back home, picked up his steel-gray robes and dropped them in disgust.

  Greta snorted. The two Solati in front of their party shot her affronted looks, which made her laugh harder. She leaned forward. “I apologize for snorting,” she said to them. “It’s probably considered terribly rude here.”

  The female’s face softened, but the male stared down his nose at her. “Quite,” he said. They both turned around.

  Galan pulled a face behind them and Greta slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle another snort.

  “Don’t,” she complained a moment later. “When I have to keep laughter in, I sweat.”

  “When I’m on this world, I sweat.” The Bruma male glared at the sky.

  The two Solati stiffened, and Greta covered the moment, saying, “But it is truly beautiful, the orange and black colors. Just look at that tree up there, with its red-purple leaves. I wonder what it’s called.”

  The female twisted back, smiling. “That is a Kaur tree.”

  Greta beamed at her, but the woman shrank under the man’s disapproving glance and swiveled back again.

  Nothing was going to sour her mood right now because Greta looked flipping incredible. The forest-green robes were the perfect hue for her orange hair and blue eyes, and they pulled tight over her ample breasts—score—and hinted at the curves beneath, which she knew Olandon was a sucker for.

  Well, he could shove his Solati thumb up his Solati butt. Greta was determined to be beyond him now. And even if she wasn’t quite there yet, she could certainly act that way. He could look, he could pine, but he could not touch. She hadn’t tried to mimic the Solati women’s complicated hair arrangements, but braided her rich orange hair and wrapped the thick strands around her forehead like a crown.

  The bad thing about ignoring Olandon was that she actually had to ignore him. Still, there were plenty of attractive men to distract her. If Greta was right, Olandon would look her way at least a few times tonight. He’d either be afraid she’d blab or actually sorry for how he’d treated her. When he did, Greta wouldn’t be looking back.

  Someon
e disturbed her seat from behind, and Greta glanced back.

  “Shard,” she said, smiling. “How are you?”

  He sighed. “Tired. And I’m intrigued to know why Sin is in the back row, bleeding.”

  Greta stared past him. “Oh, yes. He looks dreadful, but good on him for being here. I hope he stops the wedding and carries his woman away to have his way with her.”

  She picked up a shocked gasp from the man who’d snubbed her before and grinned.

  “You know what happened to Sin?” Shard asked.

  “Sure do,” she said. “But I don’t kiss and tell.” She paused at a cough from a few of the other Brumas. “Hey! It’s just an expression. I haven’t kissed Sin, surprising as that may sound. And I don’t always tell. Well, I haven’t told once,” she amended. “The rest I kissed in public, and everyone knows that’s the ‘don’t kiss and tell’ loophole.”

  Shard shook his head, glancing back at Sin. “Something’s going on. I hope Olandon knows what he’s doing.”

  “You think Olandon knows Sin is here?”

  “Olandon is Olina’s sister.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “He knows. That’s my point.”

  Olandon was quite a lot smarter than his sister, in Greta’s opinion. He was rather inventive when he set his mind to it. A smile played on her lips before she remembered she’d been replaced. “Hey, Shard, can I return with you tomorrow morning?”

  He watched her down his long, thin nose. “Why?” His eyes slid to Olandon and back to her.

  Judging by that look, he already knew why. “No reason that others need to be aware of,” she said in a low voice, daring him to push the matter.

  He darted his eyes to hers before he nodded. “The exchange law is clear—there must be twenty Bruma here at the moment—but I will be traveling back with Prince Ashawn in one week. He plans to stay for a while, so he can take your place for the time being. I must clear the decision with Olandon, but I’m sure he will have no problem granting permission.”

  No, Greta thought. He’d trip over his feet to do it.

  Chapter Six

  Olandon sat on a raised platform to one side of the seated court members who had gathered for the wedding. All court weddings took place in the largest of the royal gardens before the binding tree, the sole Kaur tree on palace grounds. As Tatum, he sat on the highest of the three tiers on the platform. Satum Jerin perched just below on the second tier, and on the third tier sat the higher-ranking court members, including Orita, who hadn’t let him be since he’d arrived for the wedding.

  The downside to being higher up was that he could see every interaction of the people seated below. He pressed his lips together as Greta laughed with a hulking man who’d arrived from Glacium with her. The Bruma male probably didn’t have enough brain to add one and one together.

  Olandon recognized his bitter anger as jealousy. To feel so strongly was embarrassment enough, but he knew he was showing signs of the emotion, which was even worse. It perfectly represented his feelings for Greta. She made it hard to keep his head, and on Glacium letting go a smidgen hadn’t seemed like a bad idea. On Osolis . . . it could ruin him.

  How he’d behaved there wasn’t how a Solati was supposed to behave. A Tatum led with his head, not his heart. She laughed again and Orita cast her a contemptuous look at the volume, as did many others. The laughter just made Olandon want to join it and run his hands over her body as he’d so often done on Glacium.

  “There she is,” mumbled Satum Jerin.

  Olorna, Namas’s bride, had stepped out of the palace and into the gardens. She was beautiful in white robes that displayed more skin than usual Solati robes, as per traditional wedding custom. Her thick brown hair was coiled up atop her head.

  . . . Her face was nearly as white as her dress. Her eyes were huge and fixed on. . . . Turning to follow the trajectory of her eyes, Olandon sighed heavily, ignoring an inquiring glance from Jerin. Her eyes were fixed on Sin.

  The selfish sod had been right. The woman clearly didn’t want to be here.

  Olorna stumbled down the aisle to the binding tree where Satum Namas loomed like the sinister man he’d always been. Olandon kept his face smooth, noting the angry glint in his dark eyes. Olorna’s steps slowed as she drew closer to the Satum, and as she threw a look back over her shoulder, Namas grabbed her arm in a rough grip.

  Eyes narrowing, Olandon cursed silently. The wedding couldn’t continue.

  Luckily, an hour of deep, uninterrupted thought had presented him with an option. A risky option. But an option.

  Wiping his sweaty hands on his robes, Olandon leaned forward. “Opeta, please collect Satum Afranca for me.”

  The middle-aged man nodded and slipped off the tier below without anyone the wiser, except Orita.

  She glanced back at Olandon and flashed a glittering smile that he returned with a mere twitch of the lips. Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced down demurely. Yeah, right. Everyone knew she was anything but innocent. Neither was Greta, but she wore it on her sleeve, like everything else. She’d told him once she was a lusty woman, and there wouldn’t be any changing that.

  Olandon stole a look Greta’s way and saw the hulking man shove her playfully. Had she been filling her lusts elsewhere in their time apart? He had no right to be angry after how he’d treated her . . . but deep down, he disagreed with himself. A part of Olandon told him he had every right to toss the Bruma man into the Fourth fires.

  “Tatum Olandon.” Afranca curtsied.

  Olandon slipped out of his chair, giving Orita a quelling look when she turned to watch. He led Afranca off to the side. “Your daughter does not wish to marry Namas.”

  The Satum hesitated. She was the newest of the three members who helped run Solis. Olina had appointed her, rewarding her for resisting their mother during the war. Initially, he’d wondered if the ex-cook would cope in the court, but it seemed to be going well.

  “No, I do not believe so, Tatum Olandon,” she said. “But she does so out of a misplaced sense of duty to me.”

  He quirked a brow.

  “Our reception into the court has not been . . . easy,” the rosy-cheeked woman admitted gruffly.

  It hadn’t? “I had not seen evidence of this.”

  “It has been there, Tatum. To both myself and Olorna. Worse for her because she does not have my title. I believe Namas has offered to intervene with the court and make them accept me if my Lorna marries him. But. . . .”

  “Please. Speak plainly.” Olandon usually didn’t have to remind her, which showed him how fearful she was.

  “Recently there were allegations against Satum Namas for ordering a village child beaten to death in the Fifth.”

  The Satum of Regeneration chiefly spent his time in the smoking remains of the Fifth overseeing rebuilding efforts. “Yes,” Olandon answered.

  “His wedding proposal to Olorna came directly before the vote on whether we would investigate Namas’s connection to the child’s death or not.”

  Did it now. “I hope this did not sway your vote in his favor, Afranca.”

  Her head bowed. “I am ashamed to say it did. My only excuse is that I was caught off-guard by the proposal and Olorna, in that moment, convinced me most heartily of her love for him. So I did something against my gut instinct, and for this I am deeply sorry because I have since come to believe him most guilty of the poor boy’s death.”

  Olandon surveyed her. Shame was evident in the hang of her head, in her deep hazel eyes, lined with wrinkles. She winced at the expression on his face, but the anger there wasn’t for her; his temper was directed within for not noticing they were being mistreated. He’d failed them.

  “Afranca.” Olandon lowered his voice. “There is a man named Sin in the back row.”

  “Aye.”

  “I want you to go to him and. . . .” He cleared his throat. “Ask him—” Greta’s laughter floated over, and the sound gave him pause. What if Sin had been with Greta? The bi
tter taste came back. Olandon decided on a different direction. “Please enquire whether he has had intimate relations with the ‘little problem’ he referred to during our discussion in the gardens.” If Sin had slept with Greta, nothing would make Olandon help him.

  Surprise colored Afranca’s voice. “. . . Okay.”

  Seeing the ceremony was about to begin, Olandon quickly related the rest of his instructions. The Satum bowed and turned away to enact his orders.

  “Oh, Afranca,” Olandon said, reaching into his robes and drawing out the message from Glacium’s new queen. “Give this to Sin as well. Tell him it’s from my ‘much more deserving sister.’”

  Chapter Seven

  “Do you think that was normal for a wedding?” Greta asked Shard.

  Dinner was over and their party walked back to the third floor because apparently Solati didn’t drink and play games after dinner, which sucked. What did they do for fun? Olina was fun. Getting her to loosen up and show it had taken a while, but she was definitely fun.

  His mouth twisted in wry amusement. “Sin was bathing in their fountain. Pretty sure that’s considered out of the ordinary.”

  “That’s a shame. I enjoyed that part the most.”

  First, Sin drizzled water over himself, then the bride-to-be’s mother knocked out the groom with a pan. Everything seemed to have worked out for her Bruma friend.

  “Do you think that caused much trouble for Olandon?” she asked a moment later. Olandon had disappeared into the palace afterwards with his three Satums, and the Solati court had been rife with whispers.

  Shard pursed his lips. “I think that Olandon was very much a part of that from start to finish.”

  He asked Sin to get in the fountain? Greta remained silent.

  “He sent Afranca to talk to Sin moments before he entered the water.”

  “Really?” Greta snorted.