Not much going on in this chapter ... I really like it for some reason, but -- no swashbuckling or heroic magic. Just moronic cousins and one order of traitorous bleep-bleep-bleep.
I'm pretty sure they'll rate this "R" if I displayed the adjectives I feel best describe dear Mhaea. :] ~ enjoy!
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The reception was nothing like Ianna or her men had ever seen; the people crowded in the streets, carrying flowers and musical instruments like offerings to a god. They sang and laughed and danced, and called out Daeun’s name, over and over, like a prayer. Instead of being overjoyed, he frowned between smiles, and held himself as if incredibly tired.
Ianna sidled up alongside him, so that their horses were shoulder to shoulder, and whispered into his ear, “What is the matter?”
“Their love for me,” he said sadly, “speaks of their hate for my cousins.”
This she understood; and looking now at their faces, she felt the same sadness that was flooding Daeun. It made her feel a wash of guilt at having left her own people, though Baesa was fully capable of handling them in her absence. At length she drew back alongside Caelun, who saluted her and nudged her shoulder.
“Everyone loves Baesa,” Caelun said softly, so that no one but she could hear. At this she smiled, abruptly and happily, and returned to her place ahead of him with much lightened spirits.
The streets led inexorably to a tall, pillared castle, made entirely of stone and mortar, decorated with bright paints and lovely flowers, immense overbearing trees hanging their limbs over the battlements at every turn. It was a beautiful, enchanting place, unlike anything she had ever seen. Her small intake of breath at the sight of it made Daeun grin with pleasure, a reaction which the people did not fail to notice.
As soon as the gates of the castle closed behind them, the guards disappeared, waved away by a cluster of richly dressed nobles, all with Daeun’s same clear blue eyes, excepting the woman at their head, whose eyes were a fiery hazel and whose body left no room for doubt as to who she was. This was Mhaea, every inch of her curvaceous and womanly, with a come-hither look radiating from her very pores.
“My lord,” Mhaea declared, halting just short of Tsuunai’s reach, for he was tossing his head and snorting at her. It was clear Tsuunai felt no compassion for Mhaea at all, and the look of trained revulsion on Daeun’s face echoed Tsuunai’s irritation profoundly. “You have been gone too long!”
“We may be in agreement for once,” Daeun said sharply, his voice clipped, the polar opposite of the light, enjoyable tone he used with Ianna. Though she had considered the possibility that he was using her, and that Mhaea was truly his wife, she now banished any such thought—there was no love, nor even lust, in his eyes.
“Cousin!” Vearon, the twin of Theron, cried out. “We are surprised to see you have returned—we thought you to be dead!”
“Don’t be melodramatic,” Joseun said contemptuously. Of the three, he was the most cunning, for Vearon and Theron had been trained for war, and he for the books. “We feared such a thing, in your long absence, but your every letter gave us—hope.”
“Disappointment, more likely,” Daeun said sharply. “What sort of disarray have you left my lands in now, cousin?” He held up a hand, forestalling Joseun’s defensive retort. “No matter, I shall soon discover it. Theron, call for dinner to be prepared immediately, and to be served in my private rooms. I shall hold audience with the J’engar envoy tonight, and after I have rested, I will see to my people in the morning.” He paused, then added, “Queen Ianna will sleep in the gold room, and her men in the guard’s quarters nearby.”
They looked about to argue, their eyes flitting contemptuously over the J’engar, but it was clear, for all that, that they dare not argue with Daeun, at least not in public, for they soon nodded their agreement. “Good,” Daeun said, dismounting. “See to it that they arrive to my rooms promptly at seven o’clock, clean and unharmed. If I find even so much as a speck of sand in their food, I will hang each and every one of you.”
They paled, and when he disappeared inside, they led Ianna and her men into the castle silently and without trouble, docile as lambs. It was only after Ianna had been safely placed in her room that they—which is to say, Vearon and Joseun, for Theron had gone to the kitchens and leading about J’engar was beneath Mhaea—began stirring trouble. “No stealing,” Vearon said, standing the doorway of the guardroom. “No touching the shiny objects—and no talking to the nobility.”
Caelun snarled at him, reaching for his knife, but Vearon had already slammed the door shut, the sound of his smart footsteps fading away. “Talon bastard,” Caelun hissed, keeping himself—with difficulty—from kicking the door. If he allowed his temper to get the best of him, he’d be likely to start a fire. His magic was tied up in his emotions, and because of that, his magic became, more often than not, fire.
“Daeun warned us that his cousins were less than likable,” Taejon reminded him from the nearest bed, already easing off his boots. He grimaced at the blisters on his feet, and blew on them until they healed. “The whore especially—what did you except, cordiality?”
“I expected them to be more honorable than that,” Caelun snapped, pacing irritably about the room. It was small, and hardly furnished, a bare-bones room obviously rarely used nowadays. “Scum, but honorable. Not cowards and scum.”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it,” Tulin commented lightly, massaging his tender legs. “How he got to be so—” He struggled for a moment, trying to think of the word, before giving up and sagging dejectedly backward.
“Yeah,” Caelun said softly, halting before the door. “It does.”
. That's a good thing 
. I like this chapter, it's a good one. I like how much Daeun's people love him