Everything.
It had all come true. From Sandread taking her captive, to Clarissa Steele’s betrayal, and ultimately, the conception of her baby. Jalomar’s baby. The baby Labelle needed…for what? “What the hell do you need my baby for?”
“Oh, silly wench. It’s really nothing more than a simple math equation. Why settle for one maiden, when I can have two? Stealing your essence grants me tremendous power, enough to destroy mankind and the Vespa alike, should I choose to. But two maidens? The universe will be mine!”
“The entire universe? That’s a little bit of overkill, don’t you think?”
Labelle thrust herself from her seat, and narrowed her darkening eyes. “Nay! What is overkill, is the damn Maji, and their devoted little followers, the Vespa. They believe that because they have unlimited majik, they are in control of it all. Fate. Destiny. It is their doing. They dictate how life should be lived, and then use the Vespa to enforce their will! So, you see, Ramona Douglas of the future’s past, you are here not because of me and my actions, but because you were picked by the Maji to fulfil one of their fantasies!”
Darkness nipped at Ramona’s conscious. She didn’t want to hear anymore. Didn’t want to believe any of Labelle’s insane ramblings…but doubt niggled into her thoughts. The world was so different now. Nothing remained of the advanced civilization she lived in before the bombardment. Could the Maji the evil queen spoke of be responsible for the regression of mankind? Were humans developing too fast in their eyes? In ancient history, the Dark Ages created a vast setback to civilization as a whole, lasting nearly a millennium. And now—her gaze wandered the throne room—she was sitting in a fucking castle with no electricity and modern tech, with a lunatic queen and a man that might as well be on the cover of a historical romance. As Jalomar would say, damn the Vespa! Or was it damn the Maji, now?
Her thoughts, combined with Labelle’s overwhelming stare, only intensified the darkness trying to overcome her mind. She had to get out of here one way or another. Closing her eyes, she gave in to its command.
A growl emanated from deep in Sandread’s chest. Loathing toward his brother and anger for Ramona’s betrayal seethed from his pores. Like the unrelenting bitch Labelle was, she continued to goad him.
“Maybe had you captured the woman sooner, your brother wouldn’t have stained her with his touch. Exactly how is it she gave you the slip so many times? By all accounts, she should have been captured long ago.”
His normally careful reserve was forgotten in his own wrath. “I care not to hear your heartless nagging at this moment, Labelle.”
She didn’t even notice his lack of respect to her title, so caught up in relishing his misery. “Heartless? And you are suddenly rainbows and sunshine, dancing beneath the warm summer breeze of the Vespian moon? Spare me the drama, Commander. It's nothing personal. You should feel relieved.”
“Do enlighten me.” He picked Ramona up from the floor and flung her limp body over his shoulder.
“With the dirty deed done, you can take your time wooing the wench. Perhaps I can find a way to steal her majik without killing her, and she can be yours as payment for service. However, the child is forfeit.”
It wasn’t long ago, Sandread would have considered her offer an acceptable win. But now his very being refuted the concept that his happiness could be won so easily. Aye, the maiden could finally be his, but now he demanded more than simple physical ownership. He craved everything she had to offer—including her special birthright.
He cursed himself for bringing Ramona to Dika. He should have run off with her, perhaps to the east, to Gypsy territory. Labelle wouldn’t dare cross Lord Horgan to find them, especially since Horgan controlled the only usable fishing dock within traveling distance of Dika. One hostile move, and the aged lord would bar Dika from his lands, denying the northern hemisphere its most precious food supply.
Damn the Vespa…no damn his own stupidity and determination to seek revenge on Jalomar. He had no choice now but to play the game Labelle had lined up—at least for now. Come what may, he’d make sure Ramona survived to fulfill the prophesy and destroy Labelle, even if it meant Jalomar won the final war.
Ramona groaned softly, her body twitching as she struggled to regain consciousness. He had to get her out of Labelle’s sight before she woke completely. Sandread bowed, careful to support the unconscious maiden slung over his shoulder. “If you will pardon me, My Queen. I shall make suitable arrangements for our guest’s extended stay.” He didn’t hesitate to leave when she nodded her permission. Any longer, and she was sure to pick up on his intended deceit.
Chapter Thirty-six
Steel clashed against steel as men-at-arms filled the courtyard. Their numbers had grown significantly since Jalomar lowered the age requirement to join the lesser ranks of his army. Pride filled him as he scanned the eager new recruits. Not a single one of them hesitated in enlisting to fight beside their lord in the upcoming siege of Dika.
Jalomar spotted Kald returning from the stables. He waved him over. “Have the scouts anything new to report?”
“Nay, milord. There hasn't been a sighting of Sandread in nearly six months.”
“Don’t you find that peculiar?” Jalomar asked, and not for the first time over the last few weeks. “He’s never taken absence from my land this long before. Both he and Ramona disappeared roughly about the same time. I just cannot dismiss this nagging feeling something is off. Especially as of late.”
“As you have said before. May I be blunt, milord?”
Jalomar nodded his permission, although he knew what Kald would once again say.
“The Lady Ramona’s body was found. She’d been torn asunder and eaten beyond recognition by coyotes in waiting as you wrestled the two that had attacked your makeshift camp. There be no correlation between Sandread’s absence and the lady’s fate.”
“It could have been a decoy. We’ve seen this tactic before with Breandra and Lena.”
“Aye, milord. But more than a burnt body was recovered. Her clothing and hair, which you identified, concluded her identity. The remainder of flesh and the woman’s size all matched.”
The winter wind blew, slicing through Jalomar’s thick cloak. But the cold didn’t affect him. It only reminded him of the impending war. If his army didn’t march on Dika within the next month, the coming snow would prevent any attack until season’s end—an option Jalomar had declined when proposed by his generals. Nay. He would not allow Labelle this reprieve. Her reign had come to an end; she just didn’t know it yet. He had sworn upon Ramona’s grave to stop the evil sorceress at all costs. The Fiery Maiden’s duty would be fulfilled by his hands. This he promised.
A cloud of black smoke erupted from the chimney of Gunther’s recently rebuilt workshop in the southern tower area. Jalomar dismissed Kald and wandered in that direction. Now that he had the manpower to invade Dika, weapons became a high demand. “Good day, Gunther,” Jalomar called out as he stepped inside the rounded stone building.
A burly, grey haired man emerged from behind the forge at the center. “Milord! I knew not of your comin' this afternoon. Please, forgive the beastly condition of my shop. I be working all hours of the night to make your orders ready.”
Jalomar spared a friendly smile to ease Gunther’s worry. “I only come to inquire of your progress. What are your numbers?”
“I’ve taken all the measurements, and I dare to say me and my boys are three quarters way there. We have the larger men fitt'd and done.”
“Fine work, man. I wager you'll have the armor done within the next fortnight?”
The blacksmith’s eyes widened. “I suppose we could, milord. But I tell you, me and the boys be working throughout the nights with little rest.”
Gunther was always one to need a little coaxing and motivation. “I suppose if I offered you an extra two-hundred pounds of gold and silver, and a week’s worth of relaxation at my expense inside the castle walls, you'd be a little more hard-press
ed to finish the order up. Aye?”
Gunther shook his head, a toothless grin speaking his answer better than any words. “Aye, Lord Jalomar. It shall be done!”
Content with the deal, Jalomar left Gunther to his work without further interruption. He’d barely made it out the exit before he came face to face with a startled Greta.
She quickly gathered her poise, tossing a locket of raven hair over her shoulder with a harrumph. She bowed stiffly. “Milord.”
He replied with a customary, “Milady.”
He hadn’t been this close to Greta since the night of the celebration—when he accidently blurted out Ramona’s name. Over the last several months, he’d tried to approach her and apologize, but she always ran the other direction. He’d debated having her summoned to make amends, but thought better of it.
He made an effort to sidestep Greta, allowing her plenty of room to pass and enter her father’s workshop. She took a step toward the door, but instead of going inside, turned around. Anger flushed her pale skin. “What did she have that I do not possess?”
“Pardon, milady?”
She closed the distance between, cranking her neck to meet his inquisitive stare. “The Lady Ramona. I am trying to understand your fascination with that…woman.”
By the Vespa. The direction of this conversation proved just as nerve wracking as his first occasion on the battlefield. “I humbly apologize for any embarrassment I may have caused you, Greta. It was never my intention to make you believe there was something between us.” He produced a stiff bow and turned to leave, but the sound of her insane laughter stopped his retreat.
“Never your intention to make me believe? Nay, milord. I dare to disagree. Do you think I was deaf to the talk of marriage? To being your top choice? Aye. People hear what you think they do not, and they talk about it!”
“I am sorry for any pain I have caused.”
She lulled her head to the side and rolled her eyes. “I don’t need your apologies, milord. I need the time stolen I spent waiting on you. Do you know how many suitors I denied, how many decent offers I begged my father to refuse while humbly waiting for you to come through? I thought…” She began to sob. “Everything was perfect until she came!”
Reality sucker-punched him in the gut. Why did all his woes always circle back to Ramona? Prior to her appearance, he had had plans—goals and dreams of his own. Had he really thrown those aside, to be forgotten and lost in the consummation of duty? Aye. The coming of the maiden had placed everything on hold. Including the family he very much wanted to start. All Jalomar could muster was another, “I am sorry.”
Damning himself, he begged excuse and left the crying woman alone where she stood. He couldn’t think about it now. That time had come and gone; the future of his kingdom and the human race now depended on his actions. Nay, there was no time to think about what could have been. Or whom he could never again have.
The young maid crooned from the side of the bed. “It is time for your morning meal, milady.” She shoved a tray of fresh bread and fruit in Ramona’s face.
Ramona sat up with a groan and swatted at the tray in Betsy’s hands. “What hour is it?”
Betsy placed the food on the nightstand beside the bed. “Early noontime. The Lord Sandread said to fetch you.”
“Of course he did. Well, tell your Lord Sandread that I wish to be left alone. And I don't give a shit where he thinks I should be fetched to.” She threw the fur blankets aside and rolled out of bed to pace the simple bedchamber like the caged animal she was. When Betsy didn’t leave right away, she physically shooed her out the door.
Another day with Sandread. Blah!
Every day was the same. He demanded her presence. She was escorted to him. He tried to make nice. Did the idiot really not comprehend he was the reason for her captivity? Nearly eight long months now. Wasted. And locked in a tower with nothing but the growing child inside her belly for company. And fucking Sandread.
She rubbed her rounded belly, smiling when the baby kicked back his or her good morning. The last couple of weeks had really added to her girth, preventing her from anymore escape attempts. Gathering the hem of her long nightgown, she waddled to the window and opened the wooden shutters. The cold wind greeted her.
A weather change was underway, and it wouldn’t be long before true winter arrived. She couldn’t help but wonder if this world celebrated Christmas. There is no God here. Christianity is a myth. Only the Vespa were celebrated now. The self-reminder left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Hues of Autumn’s end painted the ghost town courtyard below. Unlike Dilseacht, Dika’s enclosure was void of everyday excitement and people. The plain folk lived a mile away and traded outside of the protective walls, as Labelle found them dirty and unpleasant to look upon. It was forbidden to enter without a summons. If they were lucky, thatched rooves served as their only protection from the elements. It wasn’t uncommon for several families to live in single, longhouse-like dwelling. Every morning a line formed at the castle gates where meager rations were handed out. Based on the people’s ragged clothing and emaciated frames, what they received barely kept them alive.
Staring wistfully across the way at the main gate leading to the world outside of her prison, she spotted Sandread trotting through the entrance. He dismounted and handed the reins off to a lesser soldier. He must have sensed her watching and bowed to acknowledge her presence in the window. Ramona gave him the finger and walked away, returning to the sanctuary of her bed. A loud knock on her door followed a few minutes later. “Go away, Betsy. I’m not doing anything today!”
Sandread entered, uninvited, and wearing his standard cheeky grin. She made a show of sighing, preparing for another game of cat and mouse.
He sat at the edge of the mattress. “Months have passed, milady. Can you not let me in, just a little bit?”
Ramona made a point to scoot as far up away from him as she could. “You're already in, idiot. I have no choice. I can't seem to put enough furniture in front of my door to keep you out.”
Sandread laughed. “Admit it, milady. You enjoy our meetings.”
“Nope.”
“Then why do you provoke me? You know it will always end the same.”
“If it's going to end the same, then why don't you leave me alone? Seems to me you're the cause of your own grief.”
“Truer words have not been spoken between us, Ramona. But be that as it may, I expect you to be dressed within the hour. I will not take kindly if you deny me again.” He rose and circled the bed to stand before her. “If you refuse to comply, I will assume you remain undressed for my benefit.”
Ramona snorted, tossing a pillow at him as he turned to leave. “When pigs fly!”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Ramona returned the queen’s contemptuous stare with disinterest. At least once a week, Labelle summoned her. She’d throw out a few random insults to try and piss Ramona off in hopes of gathering information on Jalomar and Dilseacht’s defenses. Today was nothing new.
Labelle feigned delight as she made herself comfortable in her seat. “The Fiery Maiden has once again graced me with her presence.”
“Nope. Just Ramona again today.”
“Phshh, girl. Do not insult my intelligence. Be lucky I grace you with leniency for your wayward tongue. But I suppose it’s a small price to pay for your secret.”
Secret? Well this is a new tactic. “And what is that? Where I loathe your captivity for no reason? No secret there, Bloody Mary.”
Labelle snarled. “Silly bitch! You think I keep you alive for your benefit? You remind me much of my youngest sister, Cynthe. She too, is a fool. So full of life, warmth, and energy. She sickens me, you know.”
“Is that why you keep me? Because I remind you of your sister? The one who abandoned your crazy ass?”
Labelle descended the throne steps, and leaned in to Ramona, no doubt an attempt of intimidation. Although she wouldn’t swear it as Gospel, Ramona was certain the ev
il queen didn’t want to, or perhaps couldn’t, hurt her physically.
“It's been a long time since your arrival. Does it not bother you that Jalomar has yet to rescue you? Not even one simple attempt?” She ogled Ramona’s protruding stomach. “Does the little prick even know he's about to be a daddy?”
Ramona's arm instinctively shielded her stomach. “You know he doesn’t. You took me before I even knew.”
A cruel smirk twisted Labelle’s stained red lips. “What a shame. He will never meet his child.”
The mention of Jalomar brought a familiar heat to Ramona’s skin. As if she hadn’t questioned the very same thing. He was supposed to be her guardian, her protector…her lover. And yet he’d failed to make an appearance, or attempt to spring her free. Would it make a difference if he knew he’d knocked her up? She felt the molten lava of her power course through her veins. The gaudy anklet seared into her flesh; a warning to curb her anger. Just as quickly as the majik rose, it dissipated. She silently cursed the chain, and the witch responsible for its enchantment. She then cursed Jalomar. She’d come to the conclusion months ago he didn’t care for her in anyway. He probably felt relief with her kidnapping, finally off the hook and rid of the damning prophesy. Whatever. The baby kicked her in the ribs; she gasped at the surprise force. Great. Even the baby is taking his side.
Labelle made a spectacle of yawing and stretching her arms above her head before returning to sit upon her throne. “Return her to her chambers,” she called out.
A guard standing just outside the entrance rushed in. He sneered lewdly as he yanked Ramona by the upper-arm, pinching her skin between his fat fingers. Without care to her condition, he dragged her along. He dragged her so fast that when they rounded the corner, she went face first into the wall. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he yanked her back in front of him. “Watch where you’re walking, bitch,” he growled through his only two bottom teeth.
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