In a few moments, the same scene was repeated, two other devotat leaving the banquet room.
Marek pulled away from the girl.
“There’s something I must attend to, my pretty. Don’t leave.” He brushed a finger down her cheek and was gone, following his guests.
* * *
In the corridor two friends and his kinsman were talking among themselves, breaking off as he appeared.
“Is something amiss?” He directed the question at the first garda.
“My lord,” the garda bowed. “I had a message to deliver to Lord Radu.”
“You didn’t think to inform me?”
“Marek,” Radu spoke up. “Don’t blame your man. An emergency’s arisen.”
“What is it?” Marek dismissed his garda’s laxity as he saw the anxiety on his
friend’s face.
“My castel’s been attacked by deomi from the valley. One of my soldati arrived a few moments ago with the news.”
“What human would be foolish enough to attack an aventurieri stronghold?” Immediately, Marek thought of the day Dan appeared, wounded and frightened, calling for his uncle. “Your mate and young, were they harmed?”
“My men got them away, thank the Oracle. But many were killed defending the castel.”
“One of my soldati brought the same message, Cousin,” Cézar spoke up. “They’re marching on the fortreasta even now, and I must leave to defend my home.”
Marek’s friend, Dănuț, nodded. “They saw the fires from Radu’s cetate, and the torches of those going to Fortreasta Cézar. If they get past Cézar’s men, my casa’ll be next.”
“Why would they do such a thing?” Radu asked. “We’ve no quarrel with the people in the valley, and they’ve none with us since the Ravagiusti are no longer here.”
“How did they manage to get close enough to attack, Radu?” Marek frowned at mention of his old enemy. “Are your men so incompetent?”
His friend looked insulted. “My aventurieri are well-trained, but it appears the deomi hid themselves while it was daylight when we had our humans on guard. They’ve never been as good as we, but there’s no way I can put my soldati on the walls while the sun’s shining.”
“That means they were in a position to attack when night fell,” Cézar spoke up. “And took advantage of your departure.”
“Why?” Dănuț repeated the question Radu had asked. “What made them—”
“Don’t stand here talking.” Marek didn’t wait for further explanation. “Go. I’ll dismiss my guests and rally my men and come to you.”
“And I also, after I see to my own castel,” Radu added. “We’ll prevent them from getting to your people, Dănuț.”
“Sound the alarm and call the men to arms,” Marek told the garda.
While his three friends prepared to fly to their homes, he hurried back to the banquet hall.
Chapter 13
Marek pulled the sword from the dying body, jumping back to escape the blood splatter accompanying the move. Watching the corpse spasm, he lifted a hand, wiping off the gore threatening to drip from his helm into his eyes.
With the combination of Dănuț’s and Radu’s men, Marek’s soldati, and every man who’d been his guest that night, the defense of Radu’s home and Cézar’s fortreasta were short but glorious fights.
Looking through the smoky haze settling ankle-deep upon the floor as it drifted from the smoldering sections of the castel’s wooden frame, Marek could see Cézar wrenching his own broadsword from an intruder’s chest, and the others breathing deeply as they leaned on their weapons. They had used blades and fangs, and the interlopers, armed with stakes and acid in glass vials, had little chance.
Only once had the battle turned in the intruders’ favor. That was when one of the hooded men drew something from his pocket, pointing it at Marek.
There was a slight explosion and a puff of foul-smelling smoke. He felt a sharp pain near his collarbone. Clapping his hand to his shoulder, he was startled to see blood seeping through his fingers, accompanied by a terrific burning where something coming out of the thing the man held ripped itself though his armor into his body.
He was startled into immobility. Thank the gods I didn’t have my back turned.
All aventurieri armor opened in the back to give leeway for their wings, since taking to the air to swoop and dive on an opponent was an accepted battle tactic. Unprotected as it was, his spine surely would’ve been damaged by the missile. Marek had no further time to think on it as his attacker went down under Vlad’s onslaught and a brown-robed figure descended on him from the left.
“Marek!” Barely visible through the smoke,Dănuț called from across the width of the entrance chamber. “Shall we drain them?”
“I wouldn’t pollute myself with the blood of cowards like these.” Pulling off his helmet, he spat on the corpse at his feet. “It’d probably choke me if I could make myself swallow it.”
“How could they possibly know all of us would be away?” Cézar staggered to his cousin’s side.
“The twins’ celebration was common knowledge,” Marek replied. “For weeks, we’ve been buying supplies from the merchants at the foot of the mountains. Hell, Madame Lubos has known for nearly a month. Maybe one of her girls told a customer.”
“A customer with a score to settle?” Dănuț murmured. “Who could that be?”
“Marek,” Radu spoke up. “What’s the matter with your arm?”
Marek turned his attention to his shoulder. It had stopped bleeding, but there was a rounded tear in his armor, as well as in the mail lining and flesh underneath.
“That one.” He gestured at the body of the man his brother had killed. “Bring me that instrument he holds.”
The thing was pulled out of the dead hand and handed to him. Marek turned it over, examining it from all sides. A curious shape, obviously a handle made of carved wood, with a hollow tube running through it and odd little knobs sticking up on top.
“What is it?” Radu asked.
“A weapon of some sort. It threw something at me with enough force to drive it through my armor.” He turned the object tube-side down and thrust it through his belt. “If it can penetrate plate armor as well as chain, it requires further investigation.”
“Can there be more of those things in the Outside, do you think?”
Marek studied the body lying before him. When he pulled out his sword, the man fell face down. The corpse’s back was thick and malformed as if he’d been a hunchback. Kneeling, he caught the brown robe and ripped it apart. A pair of wings burst out of the torn fabric, flapping feebly before wilting against the body.
“Aventuriera. His death throes released his wings.”
Cézar bent over another body, cutting away the back of the robe. Another set of wings was revealed. Dănuț followed suit.
“Marek, this one’s deomi.” He rolled the corpse over. Dead fingers fell open, releasing a small object.
“Oh, gods,” Radu breathed. “A cross.”
“Don't look,” Dănuț ordered. “I’ll take care of it.”
As everyone shielded his eyes, obedient to their religion’s tenet that they never look upon any other faith’s sacred objects, he used the toe of his boot to push the cross under the man’s body so it was hidden by a fold of cloth.
Dropping his hand to his side, Radu looked at the body again.
“I recognize him. Called himself Father François. Sent to replace Father Boris. You remember that old priest who taught deomi and aventurieri should accept each other as brothers?”
“Little chance of that.” Cézar gave a short laugh.
“This new man was a rabble-rouser. My servants had a confrontation with him last time they bought supplies. Called them spawn of the Devil and Satan’s bastards.”
“Looks like he found some who agreed with him.” Marek shrugged. “In both camps.”
“Why would our own brothers join deomi in attacking us?” Dănuț asked.
“Do you really believe that?” Radu’s tone was scornful. “After all, the prince declared him a rapitor.”
Thought of Ravagiu brought up the resentment Marek still felt for being ordered to call off his search. No use voicing it, though. The others knew, had listened to him expound on the subject enough before discretion ordered him to remain silent.
The twins appeared, equally exhausted and blood-spattered. They’d fought well, Marek reflected, though it had been a drastic initiation into adult life and a violent ending to their celebrare.
“This looks as Castel Strigoi did when Ravagiu attacked it,” Andrei said. “Thank the gods none of these bodies are our people.”
It had taken years for him to be able to speak of the event without being shaken by it.
“Yes,” Vlad agreed. “I think my brother just answered your question, Dănuț.”
“You think Ravagiu was behind this?” Radu asked. “Why attack me? Or Cézar?”
“Think about it,” Dănuț exclaimed. “He’s seeking out those attached to Casa Strigoi.” He looked around at the others. “János kills his brother’s household, he kills János and his family, but Marek rescues his siblings and the castel’s now so well-fortified he’ll never have another chance at them, so…”
“…so he takes his revenge on kinsmen and friends and all others swearing fealty to your clan,” Radu finished.
“…and stays here in the valley in defiance of the Domnitor?” Cézar sounded doubtful. “That’s bold. I’d think he loved his head too much to be that brazen.”
“His brother certainly didn’t,” Dănuț reminded him.
“Mihnea was stupid.” Cézar shook his head. “Mircea’s not. If he’s behind this, he’s probably doing it from a safe distance.” He gestured at one of the bodies. “He has his men disguise themselves as deomi and convince those foolish priests from below to come with them so we’d mistake them all for humans.”
“And perhaps go off and slaughter some real deomi in retaliation,” Marek added, thinking of the livery-clad aventurieri who killed Ruxanda’s family.
“I vow, Marek,” Cézar raised his sword. “If I ever set eyes on the bastard, you’ll have to wait in line for your own vengeance.”
“I doubt any of us will ever get a chance,” Radu said. “Forget Ravagiu. He’s been in hiding for thirteen years, and as far as I’m concerned he can stay in whatever hole he’s crawled into. Let’s get on to more important things. Like making certain the fires are out, gathering our survivors, and rebuilding.”
“Castel Strigoi’s open to all of you while you do that,” Marek announced. “Radu, Cézar, bring your families and servants to the casa. There’s room enough for all
* * *
His shoulder still aching, exhaustion setting in, Marek wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and forget this new threat Ravagiu offered. Tonight, he thought he might even sleep without one of Sabine’s potions.
He’d taken only a few steps into his chamber, however, when a figure detached itself from the shadows in a far corner and came toward him.
“Hold!” Raising the sword, he threw himself into a defensive stance.
“It’s just I, my lord.” Cowering slightly, the girl came fully into the firelight.
“Nurliu? Why are you here?”
“You told me to wait for you,” she said, as if she never considered doing otherwise. “That old vanjos—Sandor?—he brought me here.”
“Sandor wouldn’t like to be thought a mere vanjos,” Marek corrected, placing his sword on the mantel shelf. His helmet followed. “Sandor, my little deomi, is our montant. He runs the entire household.”
As he fumbled with the buckles on his breastplate, she attempted to help him. “Here…let me…”
“Don’t, little one.” He dodged her touch. “I’m covered with villainous blood and I wouldn’t want you befouling yourself.”
“Nonsense.” she answered, pulling open the buckle on his right shoulder. “As long as it isn’t your blood, it won’t bother me.”
She unfastened the rest and slid the breastplate from his chest, placing it on the hearthstones. Removing the vambraces from his forearms, she knelt and did the same to his greaves and pulled off his boots.
As she tugged his chain leggings down his hips, Marek felt stricken so bone-weary he seized the mantel for support to keep from being knocked off his feet.
Taking his hand, she led him to a commode where she poured water into a bowl from the pitcher resting on its top, and began to clean his hands and face. She didn’t look at him as she did so, carefully washing even his knuckles and fingernails to remove all traces of blood.
It was a startlingly soothing sensation, transporting Marek back to when he was a child being bathed by his nurse. With surprise, he realized he’d long missed a woman’s gentle touch. He wanted to kiss her, take her in his arms and hold her warm human body, press his mouth against hers and once more taste the cherries on her lips.
Instead, he mumbled, “I need to sleep.”
Though the shutters were closed and the curtains drawn, he sensed the sun preparing to rise above the horizon. His own exhaustion from the battle weighed on him.
“I’ll go.”
“No.” Seizing her hand, he led her to the bed, releasing her only long enough to pull back the covers and fall between them. “Don’t go. Lie with me. It’d be pleasant to...”
He didn’t finish as Sleep wrapped its wings around him.
Chapter 14
Marek dreamed someone was sucking his cock.
He opened his eyes and realized it wasn’t a dream. A head of tousled red curls, bright in the firelight, rested on his belly, bobbing slightly as its owner insistently drew against his nether flesh.
“Here now! Who told you to do that?” he croaked, unable to clear the sleep from his voice.
She raised her head.
“You did, my lord.” She gave him a gleaming smile. “Surely, you were half in sleep, but you said how pleasant it’d be to awaken to this.”
“Did I say anything else?”
“No, my lord.” Enthusiastically, she resumed her task.
He didn’t remember saying that, didn’t even remember speaking to her. Most of the previous night was a blur. Too much wine and the heady racing of blood during the battle, then inevitable exhaustion afterward.
What a sensation to wake up to.
He definitely enjoyed it, feeling himself swell under her ministrations, desire increasing at an alarming rate, body tightening and filling with lust.
Oh, gods, it feels good. Exactly what he wanted, just not that quickly.
Catching her arm, he pulled her up to face him, seeing the moist shaft of his flesh as it slid from her hands.
“Sweet one.” He pressed his mouth against hers, tasting his wet upon her tongue, her own honeyed flavor, and the lingering sweetness of the cherries overlaying it all.
The combination made the desire in his belly burn hotter. Breathing in that startlingly clean human scent, he brushed his lips across her shoulder, trailing butterfly-kisses against the slender column of her neck and up her throat.
She held her breath as his fingers touched the soft globe of one breast. Brushing a thumb across the nipple before sliding lower to explore the smooth expanse of her belly, he discovered the narrow cleft guarding the sweetest mystery of all. Fingers delved, forced inward, encountered a slippery nubbin of flesh.
He teased with a fingertip. She moaned, the sound a low, continuous murmur. Marek’s fingers sank deeper, searching until they found an unexpected band of tissue. He pressed his fingers against it. She responded with a groan of pleasure tinged with pain.
“You’re virgin, then?”
Never having encountered one before, he was uncertain. That whore at school definitely hadn’t been.
She nodded, moving her legs
to accommodate his hand even as she grimaced in discomfort and bit her lip.
Marek withdrew his hand. His fingers were covered with fragrant female dampness. It floated around him, the heady deomi scent filling him with craving.
Gods, I want you, woman.
With a stab of cynicism, he realized that while he’d impressed upon the twins to be careful in their pursuit of female deomi, he had no such protection for himself. Years of ignoring the slightest yearnings made him think he’d never need it.
Do I dare? It’d be truly an irony for the Prince’s Taietor to lose his own head by getting a deomi with child.
A thought plucked itself from his memory. That long-ago lecture he’d given the twins. Vlad’s remark about the method deomi sometimes dared practice.
Fairly messy, but better than nothing.
That tought put all others from his mind. I will have you.
At his touch, her thighs parted. He rolled between them. He didn’t have to guide himself, his stiffened, throbbing flesh found its own way.
Gods, this has to be the most pleasant agony existing.
Grunting with the effort, he drove into her, feeling her maidenhead tear as his hardened cock ripped through it. She cried out, incomprehensible words rising into a meaningless shriek as she pressed her mouth against his shoulder. Her arms went around him, hugging tightly.
He was engorged, so swollen he couldn’t believe her body could contain him, but somehow it did. Surrounded and entrapped in its tight, hot tunnel, the heat of her flesh burned him, making him swell even more. Surely in a moment his cock would be seared, their bodies melded into one being.
With a gasp he thrust again, felt her softness arch upward. His entire body became infused and damp, sweat trickling down his back, dripping between them, the wet slap of their bellies loud in the quiet of the room. The scent of male lust and female blood floated about them in a near-stifling cloud.
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