Burdened Bloodline Read online

  It infuriated Jax that things had gotten so out of hand, that her people were all but enslaved by these unwritten rules. How could her father, the late Duke of Saphire, not have known how the common-born and lower ranking nobles suffered? What troubled her most was that he could have known and done nothing about it during his reign.

  George released her and sauntered down the stairs onto the sandy pathway leading out toward the Oasis’s famed hot spring pool. It was said to be blessed by each of the Virtues so that anyone who bathed in its waters would be enlightened for a time. “If anyone can set this world right, it’s you.”

  Her heart warmed at his praise. She tossed a look over her shoulder at the lantern’s still-simmering flame.

  He guessed what she was thinking before she had a chance to voice the question aloud. “I think the light of the moon is enough, don’t you?”

  She silently agreed and left the wick to burn, a beacon in the ethereal night. Jax gathered the lengthy skirt of her dressing gown and traipsed after him down the patio steps. While his tone had been light and jovial, she knew the real reason he’d left the light behind. Now, both his hands were free to wield the sleek daggers attached to his waist.

  Averting her eyes from his warrior form, Jax studied the desert garden blossoming to her left. Many of the plants peppering the earth rested in pots, the harsh sandy soil too void of life for them to thrive organically. Those that could not survive the chilly temperatures lording over the night had been stowed inside the glass greenhouse tucked away in a cocoon of shrubs. “It seems like a lifetime ago I took a walk out here alone and found Tarek’s body.” She shuddered as her vision swam against the memory, the image of Tarek Killiam’s lifeless form dangling from the rafters of the greenhouse.

  “Well, you were never really alone,” George replied, giving her a sympathetic look. That night, he had been trailing her after all, worried she might get herself into trouble.

  “Do you think I made the right decision? Withholding the truth from the Earl?”

  While Tarek had been killed with poisoned chocolates meant for her, the murder was—at first—not apparent. The Ogdams’ daughter, Samira, had been defending herself from Tarek’s physical abuse when the poison claimed his life, and she thought she had killed him trying to ward off his advances. To save her family from the Earl’s wrath, she’d staged Tarek’s death to look like a suicide, only to find out later that she hadn’t been the one to kill him. In Kwatalar, taking one’s life was considered the ultimate act of cowardice, and shame was brought down on the surviving family members. The Earl had not been informed that Samira had tampered with his son’s body in such a disgraceful manner, a detail the Ogdams begged Jax not to share.

  George clasped his hands behind his back, tilting his scruffy face up to the caress of the moon. “I think you need to ask yourself what good the truth would have done.”

  He was right, of course. Samira had already suffered enough at the hands of Tarek and his family. She was prepared to live her life in service to a man who didn’t love her and who beat her, all because she wanted to please her family and provide her brother the chance to be happy. Samira’s marriage to Tarek was originally arranged so Tarek and Nadir could continue to be lovers, as an archaic Kwatalarian taboo prohibited them from following their hearts. Tarek planned to relocate to Ogdam Oasis and live his days with Nadir, while Samira continued to run the estate with her father. Unfortunately, the Earl required Samira and Tarek to produce three heirs, which neither wanted. Tarek became fueled with hate for the life he was being forced to live and took his anger out on Samira. It was oddly poetic that with his death came her freedom.

  “I’ve always been a proponent of finding the truth. I sometimes forget how grisly it can be,” Jax murmured, her thoughts haunted by uncovered secrets of the past. The memory of her parents’ murders still tortured her mind.

  George’s words tugged her away from the darkness, as he changed the subject. “Once Pettraud answers your summons, what’s next?”

  “I’ll formally request the War Council convene.”

  When the Realm of Virtues had been established, the sovereigns agreed to a governing code that, should a declaration of war arise, the leaders of the duchies would first gather face-to-face and discuss the issues. Should diplomacy fail, ducal forces would be unleashed. Since the Rebirth, a War Council had only been summoned once to decide the fate of the Ancient Faith and had resolved the matter without bloodshed. Jax doubted her demands could be satisfied any other way.

  George pushed his hands into his trouser pockets, tilting his head up to examine the diamonds in the sky. “Are you prepared to send your people to war, Duchess?”

  If anyone else had asked her this, she would have admonished them for questioning her authority. But she knew deep down in her heart, George was only concerned by what this would do to her. Could she live with the guilt? If the War Council failed to deliver the retribution she sought, lives would be forfeited. Young men—mere boys—would be sent off to battle, forced to take the lives of friends and neighbors in service to their duchy. Families would be divided by more than just regional borders; fathers and sons, brothers and husbands would be sent off to wage a war that was not theirs to fight.

  She’d have to use every skill in her arsenal to persuade the leaders of the realm that equal opportunity for all their citizens was the best and right path to take. She envisioned a world where a person’s station at birth did not dictate the rest of their life. Common-born and noble rankings would no longer break the class system in two. She wanted her people—all people—to live life for themselves, the way they wanted. A person’s worth would be determined by their actions and character, not their bloodline.

  “I don’t mean you’re not strong enough, but…” George began, clearly mistaking her silence for annoyance, “…but I worry what this will do to you. To your heart.”

  She gave him a quiet smile. “I know what you meant, Captain.” She tilted her head in his direction as he met her saddened gaze. “It’s crossed my mind a hundred times tonight alone. I keep asking myself how I’ve so casually decided the fate of the world.” She twirled a lock of her long caramel hair around a wandering finger.

  “Jax.” George frowned. “I certainly wouldn’t say you’ve been taking this matter lightly.”

  She waved her hand. “But it will look like that to my people. Their Duchess, from atop her high throne, declaring a war she does not personally have to fight.”

  “Your people support you. They know what’s at stake.”

  Her gaze dropped to her feet shuffling in the sand. “The people of Saphire do, yes, but I’m considering the outside world here.”

  “Ah,” George said, threading his hands behind his neck. “So, you still fancy yourself a Queen.”

  She didn’t like the flippant way he said it and wrinkled her face in his direction. George was one of the only people in her inner circle who knew her desire to reconstruct the realm’s political system. She dreamed of each duchy being made up of elected town and village premiers who all reported to an elected governor. The governors of the regions would be council to a superior power—a monarch—who was in charge of keeping one treasury filled to the brim to be divided amongst all the lands, so that no one territory went without. “I think the world would be a much better place if there was someone supervising what went on.”

  He grimaced at her reproving tone. “I didn’t mean to sound like I don’t support what you’re doing. I do.” Hard lines stretched across his face. He suddenly looked much older than his thirty-seven years. “I just pray the Virtues convince the realm to see reason. You’ve got an incredibly tough fight on your hands.”

  She broke into a weary smile. “Don’t I know it. But I have to be strong enough to see this through. Our world deserves it.”

  Chapter Two

  The desert wind curled up her spine, sending a chill through her slender frame. “I don’t think any amount of night air is going to help
me rest.” Clasping her hands, she turned to George. “Shall we head back in? At least one of us deserves some sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

  George chuckled. “I’ll choose to ignore your jab at my weathered appearance.” He held a hand out to her as they approached the villa. His rough, but tender grip was riddled with calluses formed by the hilt of his sword.

  “I think you might be the first person to leave a resort bathhouse looking worse than when they arrived.” Jax poked him in the side, barely able to contain her own giggling.

  His exaggerated eye roll sent her into another fit of laughter, the melody floating across the flowing desert dunes. For just a moment, she forgot all that weighed on her mind and enjoyed the simple pleasure of joking around with a friend.

  Their chuckling had subsided by the time they reached the second-floor landing, the cavernous guest hallway stretching out ahead of them.

  “We probably should quiet down.” Jax shot a sheepish glance at George, heartened that his shoulders were still shaking in amusement. “The last thing I need is Ferran kicking us out because we’re disrupting the rest of the guests.”

  “A bit late for that.”

  Jax took a step back, leaning into George’s chest before her pounding heart allowed her brain to identify the voice she’d just heard. “Goodness, Perry. You nearly made me jump out of my skin.”

  Her husband emerged from the shadows of the hallway, no trace of sleep lingering in his piercing lavender eyes. “I would have thought you’d both be on alert, wandering around the estate this time of night.”

  She didn’t miss the snide emphasis lacing his words. “Clearly, I wasn’t expecting my supposedly sleeping husband to jump out at me from the shadows. I don’t fault George for not thinking of such a ridiculous scenario, either.” Her carefree mood of two minutes ago had rapidly deflated.

  George looked from Perry’s hardened expression to Jax before clearing his throat. “She couldn’t sleep, so I thought the night air might calm her thoughts.”

  “And she couldn’t get some fresh air by standing out on the balcony attached to our room?” Perry said with a snort.

  “Well…” George broke off, clearly unsure why he was being verbally attacked by Perry. “She didn’t want to wake you, and it was obvious she needed someone to talk to.”

  “Well, as her husband, Jax knows she can always turn to me with her troubles.” Perry wrapped a stiff arm around Jax and pulled her toward him. “I think it’s safe enough for you to spend the rest of the night in your own quarters, George.” His tone left little room for disagreement on the Captain’s part.

  Jax, on the other hand, stood silently appalled with her mouth hanging open. “Perry,” she said once she’d collected her senses, “what in Virtues are you going on about?”

  His gaze held a storm of conflicting emotions, none of which she could decode. “If it’s safe enough for you to go waltzing off into the night with your guardsman, then it’s safe enough for you and me to sleep together alone.”

  She scoffed. “I wasn’t waltzing off with George. We went outside to have a chat, for Virtues’ sake.”

  “Oh, trust me, I know. I saw you both looking quite cozy with one another.”

  Jax paused, stunned by the jealousy radiating from her husband’s muscled frame. She felt her cheeks warm. “Perry, we were simply talking about our departure to Pettraud and what happens next.”

  The scowl on Perry’s face deepened.

  “I think I’ll take my leave,” George said, the unease of the situation rolling off his shoulders. “I’ll remain in my quarters as ordered, Duchess. Good night.” He was gone before she could object.

  Grabbing Perry by the arm, she dragged him back to the privacy of their suite. As she shut the door, she whirled around to face her dejected husband as he sank into one of the armchairs by the unlit fireplace. “What has gotten into you? Where is this accusing jealousy coming from?” She hurried to his side and perched on the arm of his chair. “Dearest, you know how close George and I have always been. Not only is he a friend, but he’s solely responsible for my safety.”

  Perry’s head dropped into the palms of his trembling hands. “I know. I know. I’m sorry—I don’t know where that boorish behavior came from.” He looked up at her, his royal gaze pleading. “It’s just that I woke up and you were gone. I thought…” his words caught in his throat, “I thought something had happened. But then I looked out the window and saw you laughing with George and,” he glanced wildly around the small sitting room, as if searching for answers, “and I felt a pain in my heart, wondering why you hadn’t awakened me. I want to be the one who comforts you, my love. I want to be the one you turn to when you need to be lifted out of darkness. I’m your husband. I should be there for you.”

  “Perry.” She shushed him, caressing his cheeks with her fingers. She dipped her head down to meet his quivering lips, hungrily giving him a deep kiss. “You do comfort me, just by being by my side. I love you, darling.” She pressed her forehead against his. “I simply didn’t want to wake you. This whole nightmare has been such a strain for you. I just wanted you to have some peace.”

  Perry hung his head, shaking it slightly. “You don’t have to worry about me, Jax. You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders already.”

  She studied her husband’s hunched form, trying to figure out the right words. “I can’t help but worry about you. I was born into this life. I knew exactly what trials came along with being a Duchess. Goodness, my parents bred it into me from the moment I could walk. You, dearest,” she said, cupping his chin with her hand and pulling his gaze to hers, “you were not raised for this arena. I could never fault you for that, but please, let me protect you from it as much as I can.”

  She thought she had won him over, but he bristled at her last few words. “I don’t need protection. I am the son of a Duke, you know.”

  She released him and let her hands fall to her lap. Yes, Lord Percival Pettraud was the son of a Duke, but being the youngest of seven male heirs, he had never received any formal training in ducal leadership. She chose to keep those thoughts to herself for the meantime. “Well, I wouldn’t be married to you if you weren’t.”

  As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, immediate regret settled in. They had come out sounding cold and bitter, which was not what she intended to convey at all.

  Perry went rigid in his chair, the damage already done. “Right. I almost forgot. Our marriage is a political arrangement above all else.”

  Jax stood, hugging her arms tightly across her waist, trying to control her rising temper. “I didn’t mean it that way, Perry. I’m just saying, I wouldn’t have married you if I believed you weren’t ready for this life and everything that comes with it.” She extended a tentative hand and rested it on his tightly-wound shoulder. “If I believed you couldn’t handle being Prince Consort, I would have set you free of the engagement our fathers arranged. I would never wish this life on someone who didn’t have the spirit to face it. I know you don’t need my protection.” She shuffled around the chair until she stood right in front of him, between his knees. “But my love for you simply does not allow me to not worry about you.”

  Hope fluttered in her chest as she watched her words work their magic on him. His breathing slowed, and the scowl faded from his handsome face. “I suppose I know a thing or two about worrying about someone who I know can take care of herself.” He gathered her into his arms, pulling her on top of him.

  She pressed a hand against his chiseled chest, his nightshirt cut low, exposing the curves of his muscles. “You should be worried, Lord Pettraud,” she murmured into his searching lips, “about the things I have planned for you.”

  ‡

  The chirping of desert wildlife mingled with the remnants of Jax’s dreams as she woke, sunlight streaming in from the window, flooding the room with warmth. All the unease and unpleasantness of last night faded away, and she grinned lazily at Perry’s
naked form next to her.

  His messy, dark curls created an earthy halo across his pillow. His lavender eyes were closed, his expression so peaceful that she hated to wake him. But after the concerns he voiced last night, she knew he would appreciate her rousing touch.

  “Dearest,” Jax hummed in his ear, “would you like to join me for a dip in the hot spring before the sun gets too fierce? We’ve come all this way and have yet to sink into the legendary pool.”

  Perry stretched his arms over his head, the tangle of sheets rising and falling with his arching body. “We did get a bit sidetracked from our romantic getaway, didn’t we?” His wry grin teased her for unraveling the web of deceit they’d found at the Oasis.

  She walked two fingers up and down his torso, her eyes sparkling with lusty memories. “I think we got our priorities back in order last night.”

  He grabbed her fingers and kissed them one at a time. “There’s more where that came from, Duchess.”

  Thirty minutes later, the newlyweds pulled themselves out of their disheveled bed to dress into their swimming outfits.

  “Abra mentioned last night that breakfast would be served at nine,” Jax said, still breathless from Perry’s touch as she laced herself into her swimming gown. “Hopefully twenty minutes in the hot spring is enough time for the Virtues to bless me.”

  Perry snorted. “As if they already haven’t.” He motioned suggestively to his still-naked body.

  She laughed, tossing a pillow at him.

  He caught it square in his toned abdomen, clutching his side dramatically in feigned anguish.

  “Award-winning performance, dearest. I’m sure Lady Giovanna will be begging you to be part of her acting troupe when we return home.”

  Perry’s chuckles died in his throat as a somber mask descended over his face. “The only worry I had when we left Saphire was whether the theater’s construction would be finished in time for Giovanna’s first performance.” He folded his arms across his glistening chest as his gaze trailed out the window. “I wonder if she and her troupe will even get to perform, with all that’s going on.”