When he just stared down at me, I felt something snap inside me. No one will believe me. No one. They’ll all just think me mad.
Breath hitching, I released my hold on him to lie back, my hand flopping limply to my side. Unexplainable pain filled me. It wasn’t physical, not exactly, but I knew it, just never to this extreme before. I felt raw, chest cracking all the way open, a mental wound that would never shut, my insides spilling out.
Despair, that’s what it was. I was full to brimming with dejection.
I’d always, no matter the situation, had a niggle of hope tickling my chest. Now? I felt empty.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, like he knew. Did he really, though?
My eye closed. I didn’t care if it never opened again. It meant never having to see that look on his face, that softening brought on by pity. He could take his pity, roll it up like a sheaf of papers, and stick it up his arse.
It wasn’t until he stood and stepped back and a deep voice rumbled something that I realized that odd feeling tickling the back of my head, alerting me something was off. I noticed then, the deep voice in the direction of the doorway. Kvigor.
Well, they could both leave.
“I’ve come to help,” the white bull stated curtly.
“No help to be had!” The sound of shuffling mingled with the priestess’ voice. “You think me incapable, Gor?”
“No,” he quickly grumbled. His mother didn’t seem to rub along so well with him, not as Adelric did. I found it interesting but not surprising.
“Good.” Something bumped the cot bed, a body moving close, and a cool cloth dabbed at my face. It smelled funny but felt nice. “Now for the hard part.” She lifted a small piece of my shredded gown, making a sympathetic noise when the fabric clung to my skin.
A gasp left me and I inhaled sharply. My eye shot open wide, my hand shooting out to ward her off. “G-g-gah! No!”
“I was afraid of that,” she said on a sigh, her face pinched, nostrils flared.
It finally registered I had two males looking their fill of my torn up flesh, little more than torn strips of cloth for a gown leaving nothing to the imagination. Did they like the shredded remnants of me? Think me a sight now?
“Adel, the small wooden box under my table, and then we’ll need the tub,” she glanced up, motioning him with a wave her hand, “collect them for me. Bring it all here.”
Adelric left without a word.
“Gor, fetch Vachel. I’ll need two sets of hands.”
“Mama, I can-”
Suzaela made a noise in her throat, a lowing not unlike a cow’s that hinted at her growing displeasure. “We’ll be needing both of you as well. More hands to hold her down.”
Snapping his mouth shut, Kvigor gave a curt nod, sparing me a quick, unreadable glance, then left.
“Sounds promising,” I got out gruffly. “More torture? How wonderful.”
“I’m sorry, dearling, but it has to be done. Your wounds could fester.”
“Would that be so bad?” I muttered weakly.
That cloth dabbed at my face again. “Yes. Yes, it would.”
“Rats,” I half-joked.
Wringing out the cloth, she set it down, busying herself about the room. Thick cloths, towels, were laid out on a small stool, a bucket and small cup set next to them. Once finished and both males had done her bidding, she left to come back with a thick, steaming mug that smelled of mulled cider.
“Here,” she said softly, lifting my head enough so that I might take a drink, “For the fevers.”
Parched, with her assistance I drank it all, falling back when she released me. The cloth came back to dab at my face.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“Addie, is it?” she said quietly.
“Riadne,” I corrected.
“Riadne.” The cloth came to rest on my forehead and a soft hand found mine. Her fingers slid over the bull head marking I’d slit, smoothing over the scab already forming. My other hand was lifted, slender fingers studying the sign of the Map.
Once she’d satisfied herself, she set my limp hands at my sides. I simply didn’t care if she studied my person anymore or not. Nothing matters. I don’t matter.
“Riadne?” that soft, tempered, sweet voice intoned quietly, “I believe you.”
Already feeling the effects of that drink, a warm, calming lethargy filling me, my body perfectly relaxed, a small hiccup filled my chest. Moisture gathered at my eyes, where it fell. Just as I was drifting off, a dry cloth gently dabbed at my tears.
Using what little strength I had left, I reached for the hand resting next to mine blindly, my fingers slipping over it to clamp around it.
Digits curling over hers to give it a grateful squeeze, she gave me one back. “I’ll be right here when you wake,” she promised.
Not alone.
It was then I finally allowed myself to let go, slipping into unconsciousness.
When I awoke briefly a short time later, she hadn’t moved an inch.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dreams assaulted me, one after another. I was wet, hands on me, pain. Were they trying to drown me? Too many hands, all touching me, voices crooning softly, promising me everything was going to be alright. All lies. All of it.
My head was tilted back, chin propped up, mouth forced open. I’d always fight it at first, it was instinctive, self-preservation taking root.
Warmth touched my lips, liquid spilling, some down my throat to be choked down, fingers at my throat massaging the muscles as I gasped and fought. Then they were gone and I was left in a cloud of nothingness. The scene would fade out to start all over again. It always started and ended with the water. It filled me, then surrounded me.
Every time—every single damned time—I fought, but it was useless. I was too weak to fend them off. There were too many of them, too many poking, prodding fingers, hands tugging, pulling, lifting, scrubbing, restricting as material pulled, around and around one limb to encase the next.
Was this it? The end? Was this how it was to be? And then everything faded to black yet again.
What Hell was this, and what had I done to earn it?
When consciousness truly found me, it was to the rhythmic beat of a drum, flutes, music coming from somewhere at a distance, rattling clinks, the plucking of the strings of an acoustic instrument, and soft, low singing—not quite a chant but close enough.
My eyes found the ceiling, my once-swollen lids opening easily enough, surprisingly, though a sticky goop appeared to be slathered to my lids. Lifting my hand to touch it, my fingers came away a translucent green, dark like the olives on the trees back home. It smelled nothing of olives or their leaves. Bringing my smeared fingertips to my nose, I gave an experimental sniff and grimaced, shrinking away from it. Lifting the sheet to my face, grimacing all the while as my hands lifted, I gently swiped the gloppy stickiness off my face.
“The wingless has been summoned,” a male voice intoned gravely, “to ignore it is-”
“Ignore? Ignore!” Suzaela’s voice was growing shrill. “Bainan, are you insinuating I would ignore, defy my own bonded?!”
“Ah... no, I-”
“Then why are you standing here? Go! Away with you. You will give my- my-” the high priestess’ voice faltered before rising. “You will tell your chief she will be presented when she is ready.”
Sitting up, I winced, trying to tune out the rest of the conversation. As voices rose, it proved impossible.
“My king-chief,” the dark-haired blond could clearly be heard saying as he determinedly, heatedly debated his point.
Gods, Peacock was already trying to make them call him that? King-chief… ridiculous. The Queen’s favored’s head was going to explode if it grew any bigger.
“King-chief?” Suzaela spluttered, incredulous.
“What’s this?” Adelric’s voice joined the others.
“King-chief?” Vachel murmured, mystified. “The All-father has granted Ekodar powers now,
has he?” She was curious, her tone dubious. That made two of us. “Has he been blessed with a new title?”
“I- Uh- I don’t... know.” Bainan trailed off, his voice faltering.
“You don’t know?” Adelric let out a loud snort.
Another one followed. I’d know that one anywhere: Kvigor.
Did they all often come to their mother’s?
“You’re awake.”
Startled, I jumped, cheeks pinkening, smiling nervously at Suzaela as she stood in the doorway. They moved so blasted quietly when they wanted to!
“I heard voices.” My throat felt dry, my tongue thick.
“There’s water,” she pointed to the small table by the bed, a pitcher and mug by my bedside.
Nodding, I turned to grab the mug, almost dropping it before grabbing it with shaking hands, clutching it tight, glad to find someone had already filled it for me, to bring it to my lips. I was sloppy, splashing water everywhere, but managed to down most of it.
“Not so fast.” Suzaela was there in a moment. She took the mug from me when I would have dropped it, grabbing a cloth with her free hand to dab at the water droplets on my face with it. She was well versed on multitasking.
“What... Is it-” My mind was so foggy. “Is it nightfall? How long have I-”
“You needed rest.” Suzaela motioned that I should lie back down, but I had other pressing needs. “This was to be expected.”
Face reddening, I explained my predicament, to which she assisted me in seeing to the task, which was mortifying, but there was no way I’d have been able to accomplish such a feat on my own.
The voices in the main room rose.
“...led the hunt...”
“A hunt I tasked you to lead.”
“So you could stay with it,” the youth accused.
“Bainan.” Vachel gasped, aghast.
“What?” The youth sounded younger than ever, his words bordering on snotty. “It-”
“Ban,” Yhem chimed in, his typically taciturn tone chiding. When had the yak-otaur popped in? He was speaking in the same way one would if addressing a misbehaving child.
Bainan, obviously well aware of the fact, took exception. Chuffing, he huffed, “I’m doing what is asked of me!”
“You aren’t now.” Yhem had a point.
“I am fulfilling my King-chief’s will!”
“Blindly.” A clacking sound rent the air, drifting towards me as clear as their words. Teeth clacking. I knew it for what it was—Adelric was snapping his teeth in irritation. He didn’t like being contradicted.
Bainan’s voice took on a note of worry, but the fool plowed on. “You question-”
“Of course he’s not,” Yhem bit out. “Adelric has always been loyal. You speak boldly, pup.” A snarl of a growl. “Might I suggest you cease now.”
“Ekodar commanded the wingless be there.” Bainan took a deep breath. He sounded nervous, his breaths choppy. “I merely came to do as I was asked. Tasked.”
“You heard what happened,” the dark-furred bull’s voice hardened. “Did you not think it odd that he would call for her so soon? Others have died of lesser wounds at the hands of one of his punishments. She sleeps still. She is too-”
“Then the beast should have done as it was told and it wouldn’t have been punished!” Bainan’s voice rose above the others, until he was bellowing, the sound echoing throughout Suzaela’s abode.
There was the sound of a loud crack and a thump, the sniveling whelp yelped, crying out. Others called out, madness ensued.
A roar sounded, the noise inhuman, rattling the plaster looking walls. I couldn’t place it, wondering at that pained, bellowing trumpet.
Kvigor? No. couldn’t be. Could it?
My head spun as I glanced towards the doorway. Through the corner of my eye I saw Suzaela’s face pinch, eyes narrowing, lips pursing in disgust. She’d left the conversation but looked like she’d like nothing more than to jump back into the fray.
“What am I to do?” The dark blond-furred bull’s tone was petulant, his words muffled.
Kvigor made an animalistic sound. “Maybe if you didn’t whine like a calf-”
“You are not helping the situation,” Adelric’s deep voice rumbled.
“Someone needed to say it,” Kvigor snapped, irritated.
“I-I- I am s-s-s-s-sorry, Kvigor. I- Please- I’ll do better! I- Please don’t tell Ekodar-”
“Enough.” Kvigor sounded every bit the future benevolent ruler.
A shiver raked down my spine.
“Leave us.” Kvigor made a rumbling sound of displeasure. All about the rumbling and grumbling, this lot.
“Ekoda- I mean Kvigor, I-” That was the wrong thing to say.
A mighty roar shook the house. “Now!”
Footsteps retreated, scrambling. The door opened and slammed shut.
Bainan’s retreating footsteps, loud as he stormed off, meant he wasn’t going to cart me off to his damaged King-chief, had me sighing, relaxing in relief.
More like Lord of the Lunatics, but King-chief had a similar ring to it. The bastard.
My skin itched, pricking as long scabs marring my body, crisscrossing this way and that in a disorganized pattern cracked when my arms and legs bent.
I chanced a glance at Suzaela, who looked sad, her head slowly shaking as she stared down at her hands, the cup still tightly clutched in one, the cloth she’d used on my face in the other.
“He almost called you Ekodar,” Vachel squeaked out.
Adelric sighed.
“Not a word,” Kvigor warned.
“I said not a thing,” Adelric sniped snidely, “don’t intend to,” a pause, “brother. And neither will she. Don’t take that tone with her.” The beast had the protective older sibling thing down perfectly.
Kvigor, wisely, chose not to comment.
“Oh... my.” Vachel’s gulp was audible.
Kvigor made a frustrated noise then, as if wanting to speak but thinking better of it, letting out a typical, Tauran, bovine low. I should be used to it by now, those noises his kind made—he had the face of a bull, after all—but I couldn’t say I’d ever grow accustomed to a creature I could converse with making barnyard animal sounds.
Father was a farmer, we not only raised cattle but ate it regularly. Would a Minotaur see that as a cannibalistic act? Did they eat their less developed ancestors? No. That sounded as horrible as humans eating Minotaurs, or vice versa. Yuck.
“Vacha, go see to helping the others prepare for the feast.”
“But, Adel, I-”
“Now.” the guardsman’s teeth clacked. “Yhem, go as well.”
Yhem let out one of his deep, grumbling rumbles before muttering, “Should make sure the squig isn’t digging himself to an early grave.”
More retreating steps and the front door creaking open. Muttering under her breath openly if quietly, Vachel’s voice faded as her feet crunched gravel.
“He has a point, you know,” Yhem replied quietly. “Ekodar won’t like being ignored.” He hesitated before adding, “Might turn out worse for the female in the end, should he blame the wingless for-” The yak looking beastman stopped.
Adelric started to make his own sounds of discontent, his joining Kvigor’s. “For what?”
When Yhem decided to go mum, Adelric snarled, “Blame her for what?”
Kvigor’s snarl joined his disowned sibling’s.
“If he feels loyalties have shifted.” He stated this not in judgement but in warning, stressing the fact no matter how things actually happened or why, it mattered only how Ekodar interpreted it. “You were both commanded to the first hunt. Forfeiting the... honor, was not taken lightly. There has been much grumbling among the ranks. They’ve noticed the change in our once great chief. They, too, worry. Ekodar seems to have enlisted Bainan for the fool’s errand of spreading his word, as well as bringing it directly to him. Best be careful what he’s given to take to his mighty King-chief. I will go now, but heed
my warning, brethren-mine, watch your backs. By the time this is all come to light, I wonder how many will truly have ours.” With that he left.
Yhem was very observant, obviously on to his chief’s erratic behavior, and I was basically a dead woman walking. Slowly, the King-chief meant to wear me down, tear me down, until I died by my own hand, another’s, or from succumbing to the effects of the almighty Minotaur overlord’s torture. Or, well, plumb dropped dead of exhaustion.
I was upsetting the trickster’s plans. Puck did not strike me as a creature that liked being thwarted.
“Yhem wasn’t wrong,” Adelric admitted in the silence that followed. “She spoke of Puck and possession.”
The sound of scuffling reached my ears. Something slammed the wall. “You’d do best not to repeat anything she said, guardsman.”
My jaw about hit the floor in astonishment.
“Remove your hands, heir, or I will be forced to remove them for you.”
“No. No-no-no-no.” The cup and cloth in the high priestess’ hands fell, tumbling to the floor. The cup smashed, sending water everywhere. A moment later Suzaela was rushing from the room. “No!”
Her sharp shout had me struggling to follow after her. Still stricken with fever, my vision dimmed and my ears rang for a moment before settling. Shuffling my way to the wall to use it for support, I was determined to get to Suzaela.
A shocked, shrill sound, an animal in distress—Suzaela—had me stumble-running to the main room.
“Stop!” I shouted, before I knew what was going on. As I slammed into the doorjamb, wincing as my skin scraped wood and stone, I realized I was standing there babbling nonsense in what I thought of as a shout at two snarling males.
Suzaela stood between the two, her hands outstretched. That shrill noise wasn’t fear, mama Minotaur was livid.
Three sets of glowing eyes, two sets of red and one pair of gold, swiveled in my direction.
My fumbling shouts trailed off, leaving me wobbling where I stood.
Suzaela looked torn, wanting to come to my aid but unwilling to leave her squabbling adult children unrestrained to tear into each other.
Red-flushed and glowing gold eyes watched me. Both males had frozen upon spotting me, their snarls dying in their throats.
By the Horns Page 27