And now, here was Nicky, throwing herself into the volatile mix. Just when Herfod needed all his wits about him, she had come to distract him. Vik had to know why.
He arrived at the shop and stomped up the steps to the second floor. The door to the upper flat opened before he reached the top. She stood in the entrance waiting for him. She hadn’t changed at all. She was still a beautiful diminutive woman. Vik knew she approached nine hundred. Herfod had said she wouldn’t go on much longer, that she would start to age. He had mentioned the white hair on her head.
She stepped aside as Vik shoved into the apartment. He said no hellos, just demanded her reason.
“I saw a child!” she exclaimed, mixed protest and guilt in her voice. “I was in the village when Ugoth arrived seeking the troll. I saw him and then I saw myself bearing a child with honey hair and my eyes and face. I want it! It will be my last!”
That was not an answer he had expected to hear. “You saw a child?” he repeated. She nodded. Her dark curls danced around her shoulders. “Does Ugoth know what you are?”
“No. I didn’t tell him.” She sat in an armchair. “He’s sweet, Vik. Ugoth is so sweet. Like a puppy sometimes. And then he turns into this beautiful animal, almost—”
“Stop! Don’t torture me!”
She smirked, no hint of apology in the expression. Answering with a cynical half grin, Vik sank onto the divan. An excess of floral notes wafted into his nose. He remembered this. Everything she touched was inevitably inundated with scent. “You still wear too much perfume, but this one has a nice scent.”
“Ugoth bought that one. He has an excellent sense of smell.”
“Yes, I suppose,” he said absently. “What will I tell him?”
She looked down in shame. She knew he meant Kehfrey.
“You broke his heart all over again,” he told her.
“I know. I’m sorry. I thought I would be with child by now.” She threw up her hands in despair. “I hoped he’d never see me. I didn’t expect him to come knocking on the door and start demanding who I was.”
Vik’s lips curled up with cynicism. The smile she gave in return was wry. Yes, she should have known better.
“You’re even more beautiful,” she mentioned. He had matured into a stunning thirty year old, pale hair yet long and thrown back from his shoulders in the most artless fashion. Perfect. Unutterably perfect. She wished, not for the last time, that she were his type.
He smiled deprecatingly. “Kehfrey has surpassed me,” he said.
She took the bait and agreed. He stared at her fixedly. Presently she flushed with mortification.
“If you like short men!” she said, endeavouring to hide her gaffe. “I prefer them taller.”
“Except for him. Am I right, Nicky? You want him.”
She sagged in the chair. “He’s a god! He’s beautiful! I could just eat him!”
Vik couldn’t help laughing at her fervent superlatives, but the moment the humour faded, he became solemn. “Stay away from him, Nicky. You’re a distraction at the wrong time. You know that.”
Again she nodded, this time glumly. Vik rose, bent to give the welcome kiss he should have given earlier and left her alone. Nicky remained seated and stared at the floor. She had to get with child. It had to happen soon, before her self-control faded completely.
“Oh, Kehfrey,” she whispered. Seeing him again, seeing him as a man, it had been like a blow to the head. She was simply stunned. She loved him so much. She had never stopped. The look in his eyes when he’d seen her; she could have melted. She wanted to melt. Into him and over him. For him. “But instead I must act the disinterested bitch as usual,” she said.
Life was never fair.
***
Try though she did to avoid the circumstance, Ugoth pulled Nicky and Herfod together a second time. Ugoth decided to move his mistress out of the flat with the rickety stairs, which annoyed his sense of privacy, and put her up in a well-appointed house. He gave her servants, money and guards and began to conduct the kingdom’s business from her salon. Soon she had a constant stream of visitors and guests, all men dropping in to see their monarch over various matters.
What the queen thought of the affair, Nicky had no idea. Rumours had it that the royal couple didn’t get along, that Queen Eshaia might retire to a convent before too long. Nicky put the worry aside and enjoyed the king’s company and as much of his private attention as she could get, which was a lot. She still hadn’t managed to get pregnant at the end of two weeks, and in all that time, she hadn’t seen Herfod, but then Ugoth spoiled everything by summoning him to the house.
Hours after the first missive had been sent, hours after the second and hours too long for Ugoth’s patience, Herfod still hadn’t turned up. His Majesty paced and cursed. An appointment was due to arrive and that arrogant turd of a monk had not shown up for his king. Ugoth sent a third summons. He ordered guards to drag his confessor out of the monastery if necessary, but Herfod arrived at last, only minutes before the other rendezvous.
“Where the hells were you?” Ugoth demanded as the truant holy brother walked into the entry hall. The king shut the door on the curious faces of Herfod’s gang of protectors.
“Busy,” Herfod said flatly. “What was it you wanted?”
“I have white witches coming from Omera. King Olent has kicked them out at the behest of that bloody sect.”
Herfod shook his head in disgust. The Church of Heavenly Light was getting out of hand in Omera. Fortunately the proponents of the sect in Ulmenir weren’t granted much credence, respect or power.
As Herfod mulled over this news, Ugoth grabbed his arm and pulled him into the salon. Herfod dragged back. “What’s with you?” Ugoth asked.
“Just tell me what you need,” Herfod said and jerked his arm free.
“I need the monastery to back me up with these witches.” Ugoth’s brow furrowed over his friend’s brusque behaviour. “The news that they are fleeing to our territory has already spread. There’s a lot of dark muttering and whispering going on in the streets. I think the sect is responsible. I need you to counter it.”
“Fine. I’ll see to it.” Herfod turned to leave.
“Herfod! Stay awhile! We haven’t talked in weeks. Not since I came back from the troll hunt. I’ve never even told you of it.” Damn him! Damn that little turd! Only he would make a king beg.
“I’ve been very busy, Majesty,” Herfod excused himself.
Alerted by his unusual restraint, Ugoth peered more closely at his friend and at last took in the blue circles around Herfod’s eyes. He looked gaunt, starved and exhausted. “Herfod? Are you ill?”
“I’ve not been feeling that well,” he admitted.
Ugoth herded him to a chair and sat him down. “You stay here,” he commanded. “Nicky!”
He turned toward the hall and didn’t see Herfod start at the sound of her name. She appeared from the direction of the kitchen, hands covered with flour and bits of dough. Her rose silk dress was clean despite this evidence of domestic occupation. She spotted Herfod and froze in surprise; then her mouth opened to issue an alarmed cry.
“Kehfrey! Are you ill?”
“That’s what I asked him,” Ugoth said. “I think he’s overworked himself. He’s gone all gaunt. Do you think you can get him something to eat?”
“Of course.”
The appointment arrived. The door boomed from the thud of an overzealous knocker. Ugoth hissed in irritation. “If you had just come when I summoned you the first time. That’ll be the general’s aide with the latest intelligence reports.”
“I’ll take Kehfrey into the kitchen with me,” Nicky offered. “I can feed him there while you see to this.”
“Yes, do that.” He hauled the very silent holy brother up and shoved him toward Nicky. “Mind you don’t let him slip out the back door on me. I want to talk with him. I swear he’s been avoiding me.”
“I’ll keep him here,” she said, a hard note to the promis
e. She intended to get to the bottom of his illness. It wasn’t normal for a monk to get so debilitated. His holy brethren should have taken better care of him.
Grasping Herfod’s hand, she pulled him down the hall to the kitchen. Ugoth stomped to the front door. Before he opened the entrance, she managed to push into the kitchen and out of sight, dragging Herfod along despite his reluctance. “Sit!” she commanded, pointing at a chair.
Herfod hesitated, but then sat. He avoided looking at her, regarded instead the rolled dough at the end of the table. “Is that pie you’re making?” he said. His tone was very dull.
She knew, then, that he was very troubled. Kehfrey had more interest in pie than that. “Yes. I’ll give you a slice when it’s done baking.”
From in the hallway, the voice of the general’s aide barked a loud greeting to the king.
“I won’t be here long enough,” Herfod said. “Where are your servants?” He hadn’t seen one and thought this odd.
“I send them out when Ugoth is here doing business. That way they can’t inadvertently gossip with any one of the innumerable spies out there.”
“Very wise.”
She moved to the table and finished pinching the pie crust. Done, she lifted the pie and headed to the back door. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”
She went outside to set the pie in the small brick oven in the yard. Herfod rose from his seat while she was busy. Upon her return, she discovered him standing before the inner kitchen door, obviously hoping to escape, but the general and the king still spoke in the entry hall.
“Kehfrey! Sit down!” She dipped her hand into a washing bucket and scrubbed the dough off her fingers. “He said to feed you and I am going to.”
“He loves you,” he said without turning.
Her fingers paused in the bucket. “I know,” she replied softly.
“But you don’t love him the same,” he said flatly.
Sighing, she pulled her hands out of the water and wiped them dry on a rag. It was true. There was nothing she could say to lessen her culpability.
“He’s going to be worse than Wilf when you decide to go,” he warned her.
Remembered frustration prompted an angry outburst. “Did Vik tell you he visited me?”
“He said he intended to visit you.”
“And? Did he tell you what I said when he did?”
“I didn’t want to know.”
She stared at his back in dismay.
Herfod heard the voices in the hall discontinue. Footsteps came his way. He sat in the chair.
Ugoth opened the door and peeked in. He looked at the empty table in surprise. “He’s not eating!” he accused.
“I was getting to it!” Nicky snapped. “He just wants to leave!”
“Herfod! Stay! Eat!” Ugoth barked. He scowled at Nicky. “Feed him. Make sure you keep him here.” He grabbed a wine bottle from the cupboard, filled his other hand with two goblets and left with a last warning glare at them both.
“You should feed me, then,” Herfod said, still refusing to look at her. “The king has commanded.”
“I saw myself having his child!” she blurted. “That’s what I told Vik. My last child, Kehfrey! I couldn’t just miss it.”
He looked finally. His eyes bled his injured soul. “Congratulations,” he said. “But the seed still hasn’t taken.”
“I know that. I’ve been trying since I met him. I wouldn’t have come here and disturbed you if not for that.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Upset me? I’m still eating, Kehfrey.”
“That’s not my name anymore.”
“Herfod doesn’t suit you,” she said mulishly. “It sounds like a cow’s name.”
“Cows are generally very placid, you know? But they can have a mean kick,” he commented blandly. “Where’s that food, then?”
With her lips sealed in a firm line, she thumped about the kitchen, snatched plates up and smacked down in front of him the different delicacies her servants had left to serve guests. He regarded them without a sign of interest and didn’t lift a finger to touch one. She grabbed a slice of smoked fish, prised his jaw open and shoved the morsel in.
“Chew!” she snapped.
He chewed. She grabbed a tidbit for herself and tasted it as she watched him. He tried to swallow. He couldn’t get the morsel down his throat. She handed him the goblet of wine she’d poured for herself earlier. He swallowed wine and grimaced, but the lump of fish didn’t want to leave his gorge even then, because he coughed and swallowed again. He looked absolutely miserable.
“Oh! Kehfrey!” Nicky said, tears coming to her eyes.
He set the goblet down and lifted a meek hand to receive another bite of whatever she wanted him to consume next. And then she was on his lap. And she was kissing him. And she couldn’t think anymore. All she could do was be.
His arms wrapped around her. His fingers clutched at her dress, at her hair, and he kissed her as desperately. Somehow she ended up straddled over him. She may have squirmed around. He might have put her there. She wasn’t sure. She hiked his habit up. He pulled his braies down. Then she was on him.
“Oh!” she breathed. It was agony. It was bliss.
She drove on him again, smothering a soft cry with a kiss. She thrust on him angrily, punished him for his refusal to eat, thrashed him for being too beautiful and noble, loved him for all the years he’d been no more than a friend because friendship had been what she needed most. She wept silently for all the suffering he had borne, and she rocked in near agony when the overwhelming orgasm racked her small frame. His hands almost crushed her hips from the violence of his own.
She panted on his lap, too weak to move, impaled and aching to stay that way. It had been quick. It had been the most devastating experience she’d ever had. It had been the most wonderful. She opened her eyes to look at him. She gasped.
Someone looked at her, someone in Kehfrey’s eyes, someone powerful and old.
Someone very astonished.
She shivered on Kehfrey and stared. His eyelids shut on the light of presence, and she continued staring in silence. When his lids lifted, the presence was gone.
“Kehfrey?” she whispered.
“Get off,” he whispered back. “Hurry!”
She leapt up. Her dress slid down. He rose from the chair, his habit settling to his ankles. Without another word, he slipped out the rear door. Ugoth opened the inner kitchen door and found Nicky staring at the back entrance.
“Where is he?” he cried.
“I’m turning the cussed pie in the oven!” they heard Herfod shout. “It’s scorching on one side!”
Ugoth shut his eyes in relief. “Gods! That man could make you tear your hair out.” He returned to the general’s aide, failing to notice the tears and the terror on Nicky’s face.
Herfod re-entered the kitchen. “I saved the pie,” he told her. “I turned it about.”
She gave him her apprehension. “Who was it?”
“What?”
“Who did I see in your eyes? Was it Marun?”
“No! Why do you ask that?”
“I saw it! I saw a presence in your eyes. Who was it?”
“It was only me sitting in that chair,” he said, but she continued to regard him mistrustfully. “Nicky! It was just me!”
“Who are you?”
He laughed. “I’m Brother Herfod,” he professed and bowed with self-mocking reverence, hands tucked in sleeves, but with his head up and eyes teasing her with bright mirth. He rose, stepped closer and kissed her gently. “The sinner who loves you beyond endurance,” he added.
She shivered. He bent to kiss her neck and then the cleavage of her breasts. Somewhere around her navel, he spoke again.
“I am starving! Is this what I have to do to be fed here?” She shoved him off with a curse. He laughed up at her from the floor. “You beat a starved, sickly monk? For shame.”
“You incurable tease!�
�� she hissed. “Sit down and eat before I throw all the food at you!”
Grinning, he sat and began to pile the delicacies in. Nicky grabbed a kitchen rag and wiped away his seed. The warmth had spilled from her and threatened the expensive dress, not that the lustrous silk was more important than her relationship with the king, which her lack of wisdom had most certainly endangered. She threw the rag on the fire outside. After returning, she poured more wine and watched Herfod, amazed by the abrupt change in his character, mistrustful of it. What were they to do now? If Ugoth discovered this, he’d want to kill them both.
Ugoth reappeared not long after, and Herfod at last heard his friend’s account of the revenge he’d exacted for the death of King Uthel. Herfod hardly spoke, mostly listened and nodded and ate. Immediately afterward, he begged his leave, insisting he must return to the monastery. He exited by the back door. The moment he disappeared, Ugoth grabbed Nicky and sat her on his lap.
“So? What did you talk about?” he asked. Her odour seemed much more appealing than usual. Pie and woman and …. Well, that was Herfod’s woolly habit stinking on her silk. They must have been hugging again. Must have done him some good.
“We didn’t talk, really. I was trying to figure him out,” she said.
“Figure him out?” he inquired.
“Yes. I don’t think I ever really knew him.” She peered down at the floor with a pensive frown. “He’s hiding something.” Some sort of … presence … or power. No, it had definitely been a presence, but a very potent one.
Marun had been right. And her vague vision so many years earlier, of an overwhelming brightness surrounding Kehfrey’s form, had been right as well. There was something very, very important about him. Trying to discover his exact significance had been maddening for Marun, and now it was maddening for her.
“Well,” Ugoth responded, a touch of complacency and friendly irritation in his tone. “What else is new? Brother Herfod and his secrets!” Of a sudden, he realized she might know some of them. “Tell me how you met him.”
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