“Daeva,” she cried, “I’ll find her! I will. No one wants her more than I!”
“Well now, that is where you are wrong.”
“I will find her,” she repeated. She fell to her knees. She grasped her collar and pulled it loose in an attempt to get more air. She feared she would suffocate.
“How did Dixxxxon escape? I am beginning to think, my dear one, that you fanccccy him—that you never intended to do what you had to do to get the information from him that we require.” He scowled. “Oh, you are sssso dissssappointing.”
The room smelled of old smoke and sulfur. It made Lilith cough. “I don’t know how he escaped,” she said, “but I know he had outside help.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I’d never seen her before.”
“Her?”
“Yes, ‘her!’”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re telling truth.”
“Yes!”
“How did she get to him?”
Lilith shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“When did you last see Dixon?”
“Moments before he vanished.”
“You ssssay this woman helped him. Was she with him when he—vanished—as you ssssay?”
“There were two people with him: Adele, a palace servant, and the woman I didn’t recognize.”
“Did you get a good look?”
“Fairly good.”
Sally’s dress burst into flames. Quickly, she grabbed a nearby shawl, wrapped it around herself, and then rolled, screaming all the while.
“So what, Lilith, my chossssen, do you intend to do about thissss?”
She glared at him. “Before or after I kill them all?”
He laughed. The eerie, grating sound made the hair on her arms rise. “That issss the sssspirit. Perhapssss I was wrong about you. You might go far, after all. But I think it is time to call in the reservessss.” He pulled back on his power.
The three sisters all gasped for air. They panted and heaved.
“What are you talking about?” Sally asked after catching her breath.
His eyes pulsed with heat. “You know Zarek, do you not? The emperor of Chiran?”
The women stared at Daeva. Of course they knew Zarek. Lilith was particularly familiar, having spent time with him a few years back.
“What of him?” Janine asked, her voice trembling.
“Like you, Zarek serves me. Perhaps it issss time you worked with him more directly. With his help, the army you will need will be available to you immediately.” He looked at Lilith. “I take it you have a plan,” he badgered.
“Oh, I have a plan.”
“Pray tell, Lilith, what issss this grand plan of yours?” His voice dripped with ridicule.
“I plan to kill her.”
“Yessss, sssso you ssssay. Had you rid yourself of Rowena before she released her power, you would have cut her line off at that point. But now, you musssst get to her child. You must sever that line of descent—and you know how. Yet the infant continues to esssscape your grassssp. You must do better than merely dessssire to kill the child. Oh, I admit, desire is a good start. But, Lilith, how will you see this plan to fruition?”
She pulled herself back to her feet and stood tall, then stared Daeva in the eyes. “If I can’t find the single child I seek, then I’ll kill them all,” she said.
Sally gasped. “Lilith!”
Daeva grinned. “Yessss, you really are a woman after my own heart after all. I like it. Zarek will be of great assssistancccce to you. I’ll ssssee that he lendssss you aid assss quickly assss possssible. Sssso, Lilith, when do you hope to put this plan in placccce?”
She sneered. “Is yesterday soon enough?”
Slowly, Daeva’s visage dissipated, leaving behind only the sound of his cackling laughter, bouncing and echoing off the walls.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The traveling army Zarek sent to the palace of the Select at Shimeron was not large by military standards, numbering only in the few thousands of men. But a small and highly trained group of soldiers could accomplish a great deal in a short time.
Hamm, the commander, rode in advance of the others. His black leathers and armor, complete with holes and dirt, melded into the color of his mount. A large man, his shaved head sported various scars. A particularly gruesome one ran from below his ear to his neck. His narrow black eyes glittered in the late summer sun.
With his principal men to his right and left, he held out his arm, patterned with tattoos of skulls and snakes, signaling a halt. The clanking of armor and squeaking of leather filled the air along with the smells of dirt, sweat, and horse.
From her place inside a wagon with the other slave women, all tied with strips of heavy leather to the wagon’s frame, more fetters about their ankles, Erin looked up at the palace.
In stark contrast to her surroundings and state of hunger, bondage, and despair, its exterior glistened in the sun. Banners flew from its turrets high in the air. A beehive of activity covered the grounds: a carriage pulled up to the door, servants labored in the gardens, house staff cleaned the front entrance, and gardeners clipped topiary on the front steps.
Guards stood at the palace entrance and strategically about the grounds, clearly aware of Hamm and his men.
She reflected on her journey. Had she known what would happen, would she have assisted Nina to escape from Zarek’s hold? Would she have cried out, revealing her sister’s presence in the merchant’s wagon that afternoon? If she’d not later confessed, would her masters have relegated her to the position in which she now found herself? In the end, it mattered not. She was grateful Nina had escaped and hoped she’d found freedom.
How wrong she’d been to deride her sister all those months ago. She could not have imagined then the horrors of living day in and day out, servicing Zarek’s men. Now, she understood.
Erin realized that she’d lived her entire life from a place of weakness. Her parents must have known they burdened their daughters with shackles. Perhaps they believed their own lives were more important than their daughters’ lives and freedom. Or perhaps they believed their actions were the only ones open to them. Now, though the actors differed and the stage props had been altered, Erin remained a slave. But she vowed, one day, she would live free.
She watched and listened as several of the men discussed how and when they would approach the palace where Lilith awaited them.
“Isn’t he dreamy?” a nearby voice whispered.
Erin looked up at Genny, another slave. Soldiers had captured her near the boundary of Chiran and Oosa a few years back. Her shabby brown hair was matted and filthy, and her crooked yellow teeth were decaying.
Erin couldn’t help but notice that, as compared to the generally accepted standards of beauty, Genny’s nose was too hooked, her lips were too thin, and her eyes were too gray—and slightly crossed. Still, of all the slaves, she alone went unfettered because she never caused a problem. She looked at her position as one of opportunity.
In the quiet hours of the late nights, when the other women cried away their sufferings, Genny boasted of how she would find a soldier who would fall in love with her and take her from this life. She was the only one who didn’t show her disdain at the men’s forced advances, the only one who tried to engage them in conversation, the only one who laughed at their filthy language, the only one who welcomed their attentions. The idea sickened Erin. Still, Genny had made it possible . . .
“Don’t you think?”
Erin followed the woman’s gaze. It rested on Hamm. A shiver ran down her spine. Hamm was the most violent of Zarek’s men. He delighted in the horrors he bestowed upon the women, the degradation they suffered, and the abuses they endured at his hand.
“I thought you were only cross eyed,” Erin said, “now I see that in truth, you are blind.”
Genny scowled. “It’s because you say things like that that you remain in restraints.”
“No, Genny, it’s beca
use of filth like that,” Erin gestured toward Hamm, “that I am in restraints.”
“Well I think he’s dreamy.”
Erin sighed. “Don’t you ever want to be free of all of this?”
“It’s not so bad.”
“I suppose Hamm will be the soldier who falls madly in love with you and frees you from this life?”
“Maybe.”
“More like, ‘maybe not.’ Really . . .” Erin stopped to scold herself for her unkindness. She should be grateful. If Genny hadn’t found the tool for her, if she hadn’t risked her own safety to help . . .
Erin closed her eyes to stop herself from crying. It didn’t seem to matter how many times she told herself there’d been no choice but to abort her child. If they’d known, they would have killed her. The child put her life at risk. Still, she felt guilt—guilt that she’d taken its life to save her own.
What if she’d waited? What if something had intervened?
A new thought shocked her to her core. Were her actions so different from those her parents had taken? At least when she left their home, she was alive and breathing. Guilt drenched her anew.
Erin spent many days bleeding afterwards, shivering and feverish. It was then she knew, somehow in her spirit, that in the moment she took the life of her child, she had damaged herself beyond repair. In that moment in which she committed infanticide, she also committed a sort of matricide. It was not an act against her own mother, but rather, one against the potential mother that previously had lived within her. She knew she would never carry another.
The men made camp for the night. They scattered out in the field, destroying the crop in the process. They raised tents, started fires, fixed meals, and tended to their horses. Tattered and dirty, loud and gruff, they might have spent the evening improving their looks for the next morning. Instead, except for Hamm and his immediate assistants, they drank heavily and brawled as loudly.
As night wore on, the women kept silent, so as to draw no attention to themselves. Eventually the men retired. One by one, the women started breathing freely again, and one by one, they fell asleep. Only Erin remained awake.
She removed from the place where she kept it hidden, the tool Genny had given her. Just looking at it sickened her. With the sounds of sleep all about, she set out to break the leather bands that enslaved her.
The morning brought cooler weather. A light frost covered the grounds. The sun, which had risen shortly after the first of the men, shone with but little warmth. The horses, invigorated by the chill in the air, stomped and whickered while the men readied for their advance to the palace.
With great pomp, the army gathered together for Hamm’s orders. He and his assistants, Yuri and Shurik, along with a few additional arms, would meet with Lilith while the others remained just outside the palace grounds.
Hamm was unconcerned with the men’s behavior. He believed their wild ways would help to build an overall fear in the people of the land. It would work to his benefit, for where there was sufficient fear, he could meet his goals with limited effort.
Upon reaching the palace, a number of palace guards met Hamm’s forward contingent. Both groups remained at attention, carefully eying one another.
Hamm, Yuri, and Shurik, followed by ten more vicious looking men, dismounted. When they approached the palace doors, Bernard met them. As he bowed to the Chiranians in greeting, Hamm pushed the doorman. Bernard lost his balance and slammed up hard against the wall. Before he could steady himself, the commander demanded to see Lilith without delay.
“Excuse me, sir. Who shall I say is calling?” The doorman tried to stand his ground, but the Chiranians would had to have been blind not to see him shake with fear, or deaf not to have heard the quiver in his voice.
“Just get Lilith. She’s expecting us.”
“Who is ‘us?’” Marshall asked as he entered the palace foyer in response to the commotion. He had a commanding presence. His dress was easy, his strength obvious, and his confidence in the face of potential danger, unwavering. He approached.
Lilith’s dog, Pompom, followed behind, yipping at his feet.
“Who’s ‘us?’” Hamm repeated. “Who’re you?” He sneered.
Marshall took in the full measure of Hamm and his men. “Let’s get a few things straight here. This,” he said with a wave of his hand, “is the palace of the first family of the Select, and I, not that I owe you any explanation, am Oathtaker to Lilith, the ranking member of the first family. So again I ask, who are you?”
Pompom stood between the two men. Her high-pitched barking grated on their ears. Yip yip yip! Yip yip yip! With each yelp, the miniature canine drew closer to Hamm. When she reached him, she grabbed a portion of his pant leg in her needle sharp teeth.
Hamm smirked at the Oathtaker, paused for a moment, then tilted his head toward Yuri.
On cue, the man squatted down. Pompom tried to back away, but was not quick enough. The Chiranian grasped the animal with both hands, and—twisssssted—its neck. Then he dropped Pompom to the floor.
Behind Marshall stood several members of the palace guard. As he reached for his blade, they all drew swords. Like a dance carefully choreographed, Hamm and his men likewise reached for their weapons.
In that moment, Lilith came into view at the top of one of the stairways flanking the foyer. “Well, well, look who’s here,” she purred.
“You know these men?” Marshall asked, his question clearly directed to her, though his eyes never strayed from the Chiranians.
“Why, I believe I do,” she said. She turned her attention to Hamm as she slowly made her way down the stairs. With each step, the skirts of her red silk dress flowed lazily, like the waters of a late summer stream. She looked the group over and scowled. “What took so long? And where is Zarek?”
“Zarek!” Hamm exclaimed. “Zarek couldn’t be bothered with the likes of such a mission.”
“Is that right?” Lilith was surprised to discover she’d been looking forward to seeing the Chiranian leader. With ceremony, she made it to the bottom of the stairs and approached the men.
When she neared, Marshall held his arm out to hold her back.
She scowled. It was then she noticed Pompom on the floor. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing.
“That,” her Oathtaker said, “is the work of that man.” He gestured toward Yuri.
Lilith pursed her lips. She was angry at the state in which she found her pet—not because she felt anything for the animal, but because it belonged to her. Once again, she stepped forward, and once again, Marshall restrained her. She pushed his arm away.
“Lilith,” he cautioned.
She glared at him. “If you can’t be trusted to keep the likes of this filth from harming a small animal, how can I expect that you could keep him from harming me?”
He closed his eyes for a moment. He’d been at the end of Lilith’s complaints many times. Still, he’d taken an oath. He couldn’t merely walk away. “Lilith, I—”
“Enough!” she interrupted, glaring. “You know, Marshall, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. And you know what I think?” She held his gaze. “Do you?”
He stood, mute.
“I think that I shall release you.” She tilted her head back. “Yes,” she continued, “that’s exactly it. I hereby release you.”
His mouth gaped open. He stared at her. An Oathtaker was deeply shamed if his charge released him. Yet in that moment, his countenance reflected an incredible release.
“Have you nothing to say?”
There was no arguing with her. He swallowed hard. “Shall I leave the grounds immediately?”
“Immediately.”
“Very well then.” He bowed and turned to go.
Lilith turned her attention to Yuri. “So this is your doing?”
“Damn thing wouldn’t shut up.”
“Well . . . you’re right, she wouldn’t stop yipping. Still,” Lilith paused, “you all should know something.” She reached t
oward him, her hand in a fist. She twisted it back and forth in the air. As she did, the man choked, and sputtered, and gasped for air.
Hamm stepped toward her.
“You’d best not,” she cautioned, “unless of course, you want to be next.”
He stepped back.
Yuri’s face turned red. His eyes bulged. He sweated, as though in a great heat. His clothing smoked. He pulled at his cloak, grasping and clawing, trying to loosen it, to free his airways, to stop the burning.
“That’s enough,” Hamm said.
Lilith glared at him. “I’ll say when it’s ‘enough,’” she snapped.
Yuri fell to the floor. He writhed and shook. His eyes pleaded with her.
“Well, well, look at that!” she exclaimed, pointing at him.
For a moment, everyone stared at her. Even Marshall, who’d stopped at the head of the stairs turned back to watch. Then they all looked at Yuri. Moments later, his body stilled.
Hamm’s eyes glared. “You’ve killed him!”
“Quite right.” She paused, then smiled. “And that, I should think, is ‘enough’ as you say.”
He reached for his sword.
“Careful, now. Your sword is no defense against me. In case you are unaware, I’m in charge here, and you’ll do exactly as I say.” She stood mere inches from him. “Is that understood?”
Shaking with rage, he clenched his jaw.
“Is that understood?”
He dropped his gaze.
“Very well then. But have no fear. I’ll give you plenty of opportunity to work out your frustrations.”
She paced up and down the line of Chiranian soldiers, measuring each of them and their weapons. At one point she stopped in her review near a young man, handsome in his fierceness, a primitive look about him. His muscles bulged through his uniform. She ran her fingers down the sun-darkened skin of his hand.
He stared ahead, unmoving.
“Hmmm,” she said softly, “this will be such fun.” When she completed her review, she stopped before Hamm. “Send one of your men out to the rest of your troops. They are to lay down their arms and await further instructions.”
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