The Necklace Page 17

  Stumbling, he paused when a series of loud knocks sounded.

  Peering for a moment, his vision a bit hazy, he moved slowly toward the door.

  “Wadaya want?” He yelled through the thick, oak wood.

  “Open the door, Mr. Litchfield,” a muffled voice sounded.

  “I already gave my statement this morning. Go away!”

  “Open. The. Door.”

  Brian immediately reached for the knob, turning it without hesitation.

  Had he not been so drunk he might have questioned his too-easy acquiescence, but with a half a bottle of liquor running through his veins he decided to ignore the feeling.

  Two large men stood on the other side of the threshold, peering down from a greater height than his five-foot eleven inches.

  Fear snaked hold for a second, before a sense of drunken fury peeled through his veins. “Who are ya and whadya want?”

  The face on the other side didn’t flinched, and again Brian felt a trace of unease.

  “I have a proposition for you, Mr. Litchfield. One that will allow you to make a great deal of money.”

  “I already have money,” he responded, trying not to be intimidated.

  “My proposition will allow you to make more money … and fame.”

  Brian’s head rose from its titled position, and he gazed at the tall shadowy figure trying to measure him. “Wha’s in it for me?”

  “A chance to discover your own delaphin, of course.”

  “Mywha?”

  “Why don’t you invite us in, so we can tell you more?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “I can’t believe you discovered all these uses for xerilon?”

  “Yes, my Lady. Well, I didn’t discover them, but I assure you, we continue to utilize the mineral to its fullest capacity.”

  “Amazing,” Marissa murmured, looking around the center. “And, you do all this with very little byproduct or pollution?”

  “Of course, my Lady. The processing is absolutely efficient. And, thus far, the only true byproduct is the rubilon formed during the coring process.”

  “And the rubilons are like jewels, right?”

  “Yes, their rarity makes them valuable for decorative purposes, but they don’t have any practical usage. We are still not sure how they are formed exactly, but wherever there are large deposit of xerilon, rubilon is usually nearby.”

  “And where do you normally find the xerilon?”

  “Most of the provinces were built around large deposits. We have a substantial supply here if you wish to see it, my Lady.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary, Viccan. Your insight has been most helpful,” Tylan said, rising from his chair and stepping forward, his tone and posture implacable.

  “My pleasure, Sire,” Viccan replied, bowing low in deference, his long red cape sweeping the floor. “It’s wonderful to have a Queen so knowledgeable and well read. Your interest is welcome anytime, your Majesty.”

  A little perplexed by the “majesty” thing, and still not clear on xerilon, she frowned at Tylan. “I just have a few more questions.”

  “We must get back to the palace, Marissa.”

  “I don’t have to go. I can stay here. Learn a few more things.”

  Smiling, Tylan nodded toward Viccan. “Thank you for the tour, and please convey my regards to the rest of the Order.”

  “Of course, your Majesty.”

  Nodding once more, Tylan ushered Marissa from the processing center. She barely had time to wave goodbye before being hustled unceremoniously outside.

  “That was really rude,” she said, as she and Tylan stepped out of the building onto the brightly lit, crowded street.

  Fifteen guards stood near and around, shadowing their every move, protecting the couple from the bustle of the teeming streets. Marissa wanted to ask Tylan about them when they started off from the palace, wondering why they needed such heavy security. But soon after they arrived in the main portion of the city, she became so amazed by the sights and sounds she’d forgotten to ask.

  Turning toward him, intent on questioning him about their protectors, she lost the thought again when Tylan quickly interjected. “If I hadn’t interceded you and Viccan would have talked the day away. The banquet is scheduled to begin soon and you are not getting out of it.”

  Marissa frowned, her thoughts shifting to the dinner planned in her honor, the question in her mind fading under the dread of the coming event.

  After talking, arguing and seducing Tylan into postponing it for three weeks, he refused to put the reception off any longer.

  “Tylan? Do we…”

  “Yes, Marissa, we do. Though, you are most welcome to try and convince me otherwise. I’m starting to like it when you beg,” he whispered, running a hand along her hair.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks, and Marissa moved away quickly, conscious of the furtive looks being tossed their way. “Why do we have to go to this thing? Does everyone really have to meet me?”

  “Yes, you are the Queen. It’s important for the people to get to know you.”

  “The people,” she muttered, her gazing roaming the teeming streets. “You mean the hubbub of society. I doubt all these folks are going to be there.”

  “It’s important for you to meet some of the more prominent members because you will be dealing with them on a constant basis. Yet, if you would like to meet everyone in the provinces, I can arrange that.”

  “No thank you,” Marissa said, grimacing at the thought. “But, I still don’t see why I need to go. It’s not like I’m going to be doing anything. You’re the king.”

  “And, you are my queen, that in and of itself should tell you why. You will have a lot of influence, sena,” he paused, smiling seductively, “and not just over me.”

  Marissa sighed, realizing the futility of arguing with him further.

  One thing she had learned quickly in the three weeks since she been here: Tylan possessed an uncanny ability to win. Once his mind was made up, victory would be assured—for him.

  And of course and as usual, the man was completely right.

  She'd seen grown men jump to do his bidding, watched the servants in the palace scurry to heed his call, witnessed the fear his presence instilled. He didn’t abuse anyone, always having a nice word to say, a compliment to give, but he demanded respect and obedience with his very nature.

  There were only two people she had met thus far who didn’t fear Tylan’s presence. Cowan, the royal advisor, and Keanan his brother. They treated him, more or less, like a normal person, unconcerned with the exterior he projected.

  She really liked Keanan, his affable personality and good-natured traits were contagious. Cowan, on the other hand, was a bit more difficult. She supposed his grim demeanor had a lot to do with his sister, Omea, who she learned had been missing for over four months.

  But Marissa knew the bulk of his behavior stemmed from his general outlook on land dwellers. For all Tylan’s posturing, most still viewed her to be just that.

  Though her association as Queen and wife did transfer some of the deference.

  Shit! She had only to think of something she wanted, still not adept at guarding her thoughts when not in Tylan’s company and outside the xerilon protected barriers of the private chambers, and within moments the item would appear.

  Just yesterday, she had thought about an old rocking chair she had as a child. The very next day, a similar chair appeared, recreated for her adult frame.

  But still, for all the catering, most of the people she had met couldn’t conceal their mistrust.

  Rolling her eyes toward the old world structures lining the bustling street, the flat roofed design bearing striking resemblance to the structures found in Rome or old and modern Italy, Marissa marveled at the seamless blueprint of the city.

  She had never seen such a blending of archaic ideas and new technology, and if truth were to be known, she really liked Eritrea. Everything about the undersea kingdom m
erged into a natural synthesis, a beautiful harmony. It was the place of fantasy, and deep inside, Marissa desperately wanted to belong. Unfortunately, the circumstances of her entrance weighed heavily against her.

  Most didn’t accept her; they only smiled in her face.

  She didn’t know everything about the society yet, which was why she felt compelled to ask questions. But one thing she did know was no one with an ounce of sense opposed Tylan.

  The man could be ruthless when tested, and absolutely unmovable in his outlook. He believed in winning at all cost. There would be no pity or concern for those that opposed him.

  Marissa had seen that first hand with Brian and Jillian. If he wanted her, no one would say a word against it.

  And that was the main problem.

  Marissa wanted to belong on her own merit.

  Though, she wondered idly, looking around, why did everyone have to look like refugees from the planet Krypton?

  Frowning, she looked down at the clothes cladding her body. The silk-like, strapless blue top and flowing skirt, along with the matching colored sandals, were elegant, but not what she would call typical day wear. To be honest, Marissa wouldn’t call it typical nightwear either, but she guessed it must be the rage because she’d already seen several women dressed in similar attire.

  “Enough fretting about your clothes. It’s time to get back to the palace.”

  Marissa smacked her teeth, wondering when she would be able to exclude Tylan from her thoughts. It was unnerving having him inside her head all the time.

  “You’ll never be that strong, my love. Though we can start negotiations anytime,” he said, smiling. “I might be willing to give you some solitude for a price.”

  Marissa frowned at him, but quickly lost the look, his boyish and playful features pulling at her heart. “How about we negotiate about this party. I could be persuaded to let you do some things. Some thing’s I know you’re thinking about.”

  “Hmmm … that sounds very promising.”

  “It is,” Marissa murmured, knowing she would probably allow him what he wished anyway.

  Damn him. He is too used to winning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “So, the xerilon provides the night and day thing?”

  Tylan sighed. “Yes, sena. I already told you. It’s been like this ever since the monks discovered how to do it.”

  “And you want the effects of the sun and the moon because it connects you to the world above, right?” Marissa turned staring at Tylan, trying to adjust the buttons of the gown she wore “A place most of you hate and despise, but want to keep a connection with, right?”

  “No one hates the surface, ca’hill.”

  “But you don’t like any of us … I mean you don’t like them. You think you’re better … more advanced in the ways that count.”

  “We are advanced, Marissa. But…Vala please do we need to have this conversation now? We are already late, which I know is fashionable, but I would like to eat a little dinner before they clear it all away. If you are having trouble with your clothing I can call a maid,” Tylan said, looking at her hopefully.

  “You know they won’t even serve dinner until you arrive. And I don’t need anyone helping me. I’ve been dressing myself for twenty-six years. I-I think I can manage,” she stammered, struggling with the ties of her jacket, wondering why in the world someone would put strings in the back. “Besides, you don’t have any room to talk. No one helped you,” she gritted, warily eyeing Tylan’s fitted leather-like blue pants and glossy silver jerkin.

  He looked like a medieval knight of old, complete with the large golden wrists and armbands, the sparkling jewelry tooled with the same sort of symbols she recognized throughout the palace. His shoulder length blonde mane swept back into a graceless ponytail, and as usual, he looked absolutely scrumptious.

  He’d taken less than five minutes to dress, and by himself no less. The only item requiring more than twenty seconds worth of effort was his large ornate necklace. He’d been able to fasten the clasp at the back of his neck with the power of his mind. No fuss, no muss, and certainly no fair!

  Marissa wished she could do that, it undoubtedly would have helped with the damn jacket, but she had yet to master the most rudimentary tasks, and her teacher insisted she learn the basics before moving on to the harder tasks.

  “You know, instead of standing there you could teach me how to do this on my own,” she groaned, massaging a kink in her shoulder.

  Tylan shook his head, rubbing a hand against his face. “You haven’t gotten to that lesson yet, sena. You have to creep before you can crawl.”

  “I think it’s crawl before you walk,” she laughed.

  “Whatever! I’ll wait, leethil. You’re such a fountain of youth. Please, take your time.”

  Marissa puffed a breath of air, rolling her head to stare at Tylan, the ties forgotten for the moment. “I still can’t believe you're over three hundred years old.”

  “I told you, Eritreans do not age the same as humans. We have much greater life spans.”

  “Obviously, a lot greater. Would I have lived long if I had stayed on the surface?”

  “Yes.”

  “Freaky,” she murmured.

  “You know what’s freaky? How someone so young could take so long to dress.”

  Marissa grinned. “So, you’re over three hundred years old. From what I’ve heard you’re still considered a baby.”

  “And who has told you that?”

  “I’ve been using my powers to listen in on people’s minds.”

  “Are you trying to make a point here?”

  “Not really, I-I… damn this friggin jacket. It’s such a waste of time. Why in the world would someone put strings in the back,” Marissa exclaimed, jumping around, twisting her arms like a contortionist.

  “Here, leethil,” he chuckled, “at least let me let help you.”

  Tylan turned her around, his large hands grazing her swept-up hair before tying the strings latching the corset lacings of the burgundy jacket.

  Placing a gentle kiss against the slope of her neck, he turned her back around to face him. “I like your hair. Though you’ll have to let me take it down after the ceremony. I want to see it laid on our bed.”

  Marissa blushed, feeling the creep of blood to her cheeks. “I think I would like that,” she whispered, staring up into his eyes.

  “I’ll make sure you do,” he said, pausing, running a hand against her face. “Don’t be afraid, sena. I will be by your side the whole of the night.”

  Marissa smiled back, the corners of her lips lifting faintly.

  Tylan’s presence was always a comfort, probably too much a comfort. She needed—wanted—to rely on herself.

  Looking away, trying to conceal her doubts, she thought of Jon and Shannon. She wondered what had happened after she and Nyla had been taken. There had been no news since she arrived, and Marissa figured Tylan probably kept most of it hidden anyway.

  If there were any information, she would be the last to know.

  Tylan came to stand close behind her, as a gentle sway moved through her mind. Immediately, she felt his concern and love, his hand caressing her bare arms.

  “Relax, sena. Everything will be fine. Trust me.”

  * * * *

  “I’d like to thank your Majesty for the care and concern you showed to the delaphin. Under your tutelage, she’s prospered. The young ones are always so volatile and hard to control. Again, I thank you my Lady.”

  Marissa tried to smile, a little unused to the words of praise, her lips were stiff and unyielding. “Your-your welcome. It was my pleasure.”

  Tylan stepped forward slightly, grasping her hip. “Selain, I think my wife is too kind. She’s developed quite a fondness for Nyla.” He shifted his head, gazing at Marissa with a loving look. “That’s the name she gave to her. And I know we would greatly appreciate the delaphin remaining in the province. Perhaps you could assign someone to look after her c
are.”

  “Absolutely, your Majesty. Consider it done,” Selain said, bowing deeply before walking into the large crowd gathered in the throne room.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” Marissa muttered.

  “Relax, leethil. Selain has heard of your love for the creature. She wants to stay and teach you … learn from you. She senses a kindred spirit.”

  “She’s a biologist?” Marissa mumbled, careful to keep her voice low and even.

  Although the reception was pretty loud, there were still people close enough to overhear their conversation, including the ever-present guards standing nearby.

  “We don’t have biologists here, sena. We don’t need them. Selain of Milstal is a caretaker.”

  “But, still, you bullied her. She might not have wanted to come.”

  “She did want to come, leethil.”

  Marissa frowned. “Yeah, after you forced her.”

  “There was no coercion needed, Marissa. She wanted to do come. Trust me.”

  “Was that like the first words you learned, ‘cause you say that all the time.”

  “I had already known several words before my mouth was able to speak them, perhaps later I’ll show you what my…”

  Tylan’s words trailed away, his entire body stiffening into granite, as a large, burly man with vivid red hair moved toward the throne, expertly working around the guest and servers.

  Marissa could literally feel the unease vibrating through the air, and whisper of a touch brushed across her conscious mind before Cowan, who stood to the side like a still specter, moved slowly forward.

  “Who is that?” she asked finally, wishing she had the power to intrude on Tylan’s thoughts like he so easily did to hers.

  It was obvious some sort of communication had passed between him and Cowan.

  Marissa just wished she knew what it was.

  “Zaron of Creeton. He’s a member of the senate,” Tylan responded harshly.

  Raising a brow, she asked, “Is that it? You’re looking at the man like he stole your dog or something. From what you’ve told me, the senators are nothing more than glorified governors. Why would you be worried about him?”

  “He’s untrustworthy,” Tylan said, his eyes narrowed.