by Jasmine Walt
“I appreciate the offer,” Tariel said, “but maiming Lord Sowell will not be enough to save me. He has threatened to accuse me of witchcraft if I refuse to marry him, and if anything like that happened to him, he would almost certainly ruin me.”
Riann’s face colored with rage. “That is preposterous!” he cried. “He cannot fling around accusations like that simply because you will not give in to him.”
Calrain shook his head in disbelief. He was horrified at the idea of his beloved Tariel tied to a stake and burned while onlookers jeered and pelted rocks at her. “I have never understood why we allow so many women to be burned at the stake,” he said. “I know I am not supposed to say these things, but I think witches are innocent victims. If they had any true power, why would they meekly submit to burning?”
Tariel nodded. “I agree that most victims of the witch hunters are likely innocent,” she said. She took a deep breath. “But I am not like those women.”
Calrain and Riann both stared, uncomprehending. “Not like them…how?” Calrain asked, really hoping that she wasn’t saying what he thought she was saying.
Tariel swallowed hard. “I seem to have inherited...abilities, from my parents. I do not feel evil, but there is no doubt in my mind that I have magic.”
“Magic?” Riann scoffed. “There is no possible way you have magic. You would have been discovered by the witch hunter the last time he came to visit!”
“I have been very careful, and right now I only have a small bit of magic,” Tariel said. She lifted a hand, and Calrain’s eyes widened as a lavender glow formed around her fingertips. “Watch,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her cheek.
The glowing wisps flowed across her face, enveloping it in the same soft light. Calrain and Riann gasped simultaneously as they watched her youthful face transform. Her nose grew longer, her chin pointed, and lines carved their way into her supple skin, giving her the appearance of age. Even her hair changed, growing thinner, streaks of silver threading through the inky black.
She removed her hand, and just like that, her face reverted to normal. “I can only sustain such illusions for a few minutes at a time,” Tariel said after a moment, her melodious voice cutting through the shocked silence in the room. “But if I can unlock my full powers, I may be able to disguise myself long enough to get away.”
Riann recovered first. “Is that what you need help with?” He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes bright and hard. “Unlocking your abilities?”
“Yes.” Tariel looked more nervous than ever, shifting in her chair.
“How exactly would we do that?” Calrain asked, his mind racing. He’d heard rumors that Maroyan witches participated in all sorts of unsavory rituals to wield their magical power, and he knew that Tariel’s magic had to come from the Empire—her unusual coloring obviously came from a Maroyan ancestor. “Are we to participate in witchcraft?”
Tariel smiled. “Sort of,” she said. Her cheeks turned a fetching shade of pink as she looked between the two men. “The ritual involves making love with at least two men.”
Calrain felt as if the floor had dropped out from beneath his feet. “T-two?” he sputtered, glancing between Tariel and Riann. No, surely she did not mean—
“Yes,” Tariel said. Though she seemed a bit embarrassed, her lovely blue eyes held no shame. She reached across the desk and clasped both of their hands at once, and a jolt of warmth shot up Calrain’s arm. Buried desires stirred within him in response, and he sucked in a breath. He had always wanted to make love to a woman, and the thought of finally realizing his dream with Tariel…
“I know I am asking much of you,” she said, meeting their gazes. The desperation blazing in her eyes was quite clear. “But the only alternative for me is death. Please, Calrain, Riann. Make love to me, and help me escape this place once and for all.”
10
As Riann stared down at Tariel’s fingers intertwined with his, his heart pounded so hard he thought it would punch a hole through his chest. Shock rippled through him at the blasphemy Tariel suggested, and yet, a hefty dose of excitement buzzed in his veins as well. Ever since that kiss in the garden, he had fantasized about making love to Tariel, but he never thought he would realize his desires.
“How do you even know this ritual will work?” Calrain asked. “How do you know about any of this?”
Tariel smiled. “I’ve had a good teacher,” she said, pulling open a desk drawer. Riann frowned curiously as she pulled out a jeweled abacus. The instrument emitted a golden light almost as soon as she touched it, and to Riann’s amazement, the glow rose from the abacus and took the shape of a beautiful woman.
“My name is Zolotais,” she said in a sultry voice that made him think of desert blossoms, even though he had only ever heard of deserts in stories. “I am a spirit of learning, tasked with teaching Maroyan children to read, write, do arithmetic, and other important skills.” She smiled at Calrain. “I thank you for teaching Tariel her letters before she found me. It made our lessons significantly easier.”
“You’re quite welcome,” Calrain said, looking taken aback. He looked to Tariel for answers. “How long have you had this spirit?”
“The answer to that question is not important,” Zolotais interrupted before Tariel could answer. “You wanted to know how Tariel knew the ritual would work, and I am the answer. Should you two agree to participate, and save your friend’s life, I will instruct you on the basics.”
Calrain’s cheeks turned bright red, and Riann cleared his throat. “While I appreciate the offer, I do not need assistance on how to bed a woman.” He would not claim to be an expert by any means, but he had rolled in the hay with a woman a time or two. He knew how it worked.
Zolotais smirked. “Most men think that, and they are rarely ever correct. However, I was referring to the rest of the ritual. Tariel must complete it if she is to wield her magic properly and escape. A woman with magic belongs in the Maroyan Empire, where she will be honored and admired, not tortured and burned like a barbarian.” The spirit curled her lip briefly. “If the two of you accompany Tariel on her journey, you will become part of her household and make different and interesting lives for yourselves. The Maroyan Empire is not so narrow-minded—you would all be welcome.”
“Even a Brother of Roisen?” Calrain asked. His desire for Tariel was written all over his face—but that temptation was hampered by fear. “My order’s hands are stained with the blood of witches.”
Zolotais wrinkled her face. “Remind me why you picked this one?” she asked Tariel.
Tariel shook her head. “You are not yet a Brother of Roisen,” she said, clasping Calrain’s hand again. “And as you said yourself, you don’t believe in burning innocent victims. I do not believe a man as good and kindhearted as you deserves to be bound up in the harsh, stern life of the Brotherhood. You are a dreamer, Calrain. Don’t you remember the promise we made to each other when we were children?” Tariel smiled, her own eyes lighting as she spoke. “If you come with me, we could experience our own adventures.”
Calrain’s face was the picture of anguish, and Riann briefly wondered what promise the two had made. He knew that they had both been at Castle Tyrook since they were small, but he’d had no idea the two of them shared a bond. Jealousy bit into him with surprising force, spurring him into making a decision.
“I’ll come with you,” Riann said abruptly. “And I’ll participate in the ritual, too.”
“Really?” Tariel beamed at him. “Oh, thank you, Riann! You don’t know how much it means to have you at my side.”
“I assure you, the honor is mine,” Riann said, and he meant it. Yes, there were risks, and yes, he was giving up the knighthood he’d worked so hard to receive. But the idea of leaving the castle behind and seeing the world at the side of Tariel, the woman he’d admired from afar for so many years, was far too enticing. There was little for him here, especially since serving Lord Tyrook would ensure he remained in poverty.
; “I do worry about what will become of my sister if I leave, though,” Riann said, his mood sinking. “She survives only because of the money I send her. If I no longer have an income, she and my nephew will starve.”
“Worry not,” Zolotais said. She indicated the wall with a wave of her slender hand. “In the next room, hidden in the false bottom of a chest, is a purse with more than enough coin to sustain your sister for quite a while.”
Riann’s eyes widened. “Is there really?”
Zolotais smirked again. “Go look for yourself.”
Riann jumped from his chair and exited the room, leaving Calrain to ask his questions and think on it some more. Sure enough, after rummaging around in the chest by the foot of the bed, he located a false bottom. He grinned as he pulled out the hefty purse, and a weight slid off his shoulders as he spilled a wave of gold and silver coins across the bedspread.
This would be enough to support his sister for years! There was even enough here that they could take a little for themselves on the journey.
Riann returned to the study with the purse in his hand, feeling lighter than he had in years. “Even if this does not work, and we are caught, helping you will have been worth it just for this alone,” he said fervently as he sat down. “My sister will not have to worry about money for a very long time.”
Tariel and Calrain smiled. “I am very glad to hear that,” Calrain said, his eyes gleaming with some undefined emotion as he looked at the bag. “I know how much your sister’s well-being means to you, Riann. I have a trustworthy messenger I can recommend to you who will get the purse safely to her.”
“Thank you.” Riann’s throat swelled with emotion. “But I think I will take it to her myself, on the morrow.”
Calrain sucked in a deep breath as he turned to face Tariel. “The truth is, I have long desired to be with a woman at least once before I am forced to make my vows of chastity—vows I never wanted to make in the first place,” he added with some bitterness. “I care for you deeply, Tariel, and the chance to not only make love to you, but run off with you and start a new life together, is more than I could have ever hoped for. And yet, I fear that Roisen will look upon what I am doing and strike me down with a vengeful bolt of lightning.”
Zolotais huffed. “There is no such thing—”
Tariel held up a hand, cutting her off. “I understand your fears about Roisen,” she said gently to Calrain. “But I do not have much time. The wedding is a few days away.”
Riann glanced at the old clock hanging from the wall. “I need to get back to my patrol duties soon,” he said. “It is obvious that Calrain needs some time to think it over, and while we don’t have very much, we do have some. Why don’t we agree to meet back here tomorrow night at the same time? If Calrain agrees to go through with the ritual, he will show up.”
Calrain nodded. “I will come either way to let you know my decision,” he said, “and I promise I will speak of this to no one.”
“Very well,” Tariel said. She stood and moved toward Riann, her generous hips swaying with the motion. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night,” she whispered in his ear as she embraced him.
Her sweet lilac scent filled his nose as she pressed her curves against him, causing his blood to roar with desire, but before he could react, she pulled away.
Riann took his leave while Tariel hugged Calrain. As he descended the long stairway, a surreal feeling swept over him. His life had taken a step toward the fantastical, and had likely shortened considerably. The idea of sharing the woman he cared for with another man, of leaving everything he had ever known to go to a far-off country where he didn’t even speak the language, was unthinkable. He must be going mad.
But he could not find it in himself to care—the prospect of embarking on a lifetime of adventure and lovemaking with Tariel was more than he could have ever wished for. Just knowing he could have part of her, when before he would have had none of her at all, made everything worth it.
He only hoped that Calrain would agree. For if he did not participate in the ritual, they had no hope of getting out of this alive.
11
When Tariel awoke, there was a kernel of hope in her heart.
Of course, there was also a healthy dose of despair, but she tried to push that out of her mind as she rose and dressed for the day. As she ate her breakfast in the great hall with the other inhabitants, she scanned the room for Calrain and Riann. Calrain was nowhere to be found, but the handsome knight was on the other side of the room, and when she met his eyes, he gave her a smile and a wink that warmed her heart and banished some of her fears. There was no doubt in her mind that Riann had meant what he said last night—he would go through with the ritual, and she would experience the pleasures of the flesh for the first time.
Her skin heated as she thought of what was to come. Aside from the kiss she’d shared with Riann, and the unwelcome pinches and gropes she had received from men when no one else was looking, she had little experience. But Zolotais had taught her about physiology when she was younger, and while she had not given her a lesson on sexual pleasure, per se, she had taught her what to expect.
She also remembered the one time she’d stumbled upon two servants in the stables, snatching a stolen moment from the interlude. They had not noticed her, too wrapped up in their own passion, but from the sounds they made, and the enthusiasm with which they performed the act, she had gathered it was more than pleasurable for both males and females, no matter what the stony Fjordland matrons said about it.
I suppose it depends on the partner, she mused as she chewed a bite of porridge and berries. She doubted she would find any pleasure in Lord Sowell’s bed, even if he made an effort not to be a brute. Shivers of revulsion rushed through her every time she remembered the feeling of his hands on her and his wet, sloppy kisses.
Where was Calrain? she wondered, scanning the hall for him again. He usually broke his fast at the same time she did, but try as she might, she could not find him anywhere. She bit her lip, worried he was avoiding her. Had she been too forward with him last night?
And what else could you have been but forward? a voice in her head admonished. Under such dire circumstances, there had been no time to sugarcoat her words. With the wedding so close, they had to decide soon, or she would be doomed to a short life in a marriage full of pain and misery.
Part of her, the anxious part that gnawed at her mind, wanted to seek Calrain out and talk to him again. But she knew that would do no good, and if her friend needed time and solace to think about it, she could hardly begrudge him. After all, he had been brought up in a monastery of stern followers of Roisen, the god in whose name women in Fjordland were persecuted as witches. To abandon the teachings of his whole life and commit such a grievous sin as she had proposed, to aid and abet a real witch—no, mage—must be very hard for him to accept.
Indeed, she was somewhat surprised Riann had agreed to the plan so readily—but then again, he was not as religious, and was born and bred for exactly the kind of adventure she suggested. She sighed a little as she snuck another glance at him across the room—he really was so very handsome, with his long golden hair, strong jaw, and the fine figure he cut in his jerkin and trousers. It would be a joy to make love to the both of them—Calrain was fine to look upon as well, with his striking red hair and those beautiful hands and eyes. While he did not possess Riann’s muscles or raw masculinity, his sparkling eyes and intelligence were just as attractive.
Tariel tried to sneak back to her tower room after breakfast so she could spend more time with Zolotais. She had many questions about the Empire and not a lot of time to learn. But no sooner had she arrived than a servant appeared at her door, telling her to pay a visit to the castle seamstress.
“Tsk, tsk.” The seamstress clucked her tongue as she gathered the fabric at Tariel’s waist. Tariel flinched as she stuck the pins in, the cold metal coming far too close to her tender flesh. “This dress will need to be altered significan
tly. You are much too small in the waist, and you will drown in this train.”
“Well, make sure you get those alterations done in time,” Lady Tyrook said as she entered the room. She surveyed Tariel with cold, dispassionate eyes, as if she were inspecting a horse at the market rather than the ward she had so callously raised from infancy. “The wedding will commence even if we have to dress her in a sack to do it.”
“Yes, my lady,” the seamstress said. If she was affronted by Lady Tyrook’s words, she did not say so, but merely bowed her head in deference.
Lady Tyrook circled around Tariel as the seamstress continued her work, eyeing the dress critically. “You will make a fine bride,” she said when she’d come back around, “so long as you keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.”
Tariel said nothing as hatred for the woman boiled in her heart. Her magic tried to rise, and the familiar headache started. She wished she could unleash her power on Lady Tyrook and turn her into a toad, like the mages so often did in the legends and stories told to scare children. How delightful it would be to finally bring her low, after so many years of debasement! But Tariel could not do so without revealing her true nature, and getting away was more important than getting revenge.
“I imagine you have been wondering about your wedding night,” Lady Tyrook continued, “so I will spare you the suspense and give you the basics. Consummating your marriage is less about you participating in the act, and more about submitting to your husband’s carnal desires.” Her mouth bowed at the corners in distaste, telling Tariel exactly what the woman thought about that. “The best thing you can do is lie back and try not to resist, even if you feel pain. It is a husband’s right to use your body for his own pleasure, and you would do well to let him, for your worth depends on your ability to produce offspring.”