"Rise, Lady Rela," King Volgar said. "Thank you for joining us." His voice was a deep rumble, full of power and energy. She rose and forced a smile on her face, but she felt the deep unease of a goat staked out to lure wolves.
King Volgar eyed her for a long moment, moving his eyes slowly over the swell of her bosom to the flare of her hips. Finally, he nodded appreciatively. "I see your attraction, son. She is a fine specimen of a woman, and should bear you fine sons."
Rela spun around to find Prince Malgar lounging against the wall behind her, relaxed as a panther lounging on a tree limb, yet too still to draw the eye. Malgar was the image of his father, younger and somewhat broader of chest, with thick chestnut hair and eyes that seemed to penetrate her very soul.
Malgar's nostrils flared, and his lips spread in the toothy smile of a predator. "And her father is the head of our most powerful western barony."
"That can only strengthen our line," Volgar said, nodding his approval. "You may wed her."
Rela's jaw fell open, and she felt the world spin around her. "Excuse me, your majesty. Perhaps I misunderstood your words?"
Volgar's lips drew into a thin line, and he leaned forward on his throne. "Lady Rela, this isn't the enthusiasm I expected from my son's chosen bride."
Rela turned to Malgar in disbelief. The arrogant youth's lip curled in an expression that was more sneer than smile. "You chose me? Without so much as asking?"
Volgar's gaze shifted to his son, and he snarled. "Do you mean to tell me you didn't speak to her first, son?"
Malgar's eyes widened in alarm, and he looked at his father. "No, father. I assumed... what noblewoman doesn't want to be queen?"
"You would embarrass us both with your arrogance, son." King Volgar shook his head in disgust. In a softer voice, he said, "Lady Rela, my dear, my son erred in bringing you here ignorant of his intentions, but you must understand events have taken the choice is out of your hands. Servants whisper, and the other Houses have no doubt heard of this union already. To change course now would show weakness."
Rela struggled for words. "But I barely know the prince, Your Majesty."
Volgar shrugged. "A royal wedding is rarely born of love or even mutual affection. Malgar will be a king someday, and marriage can create powerful bonds that secure his power. I'll send a messenger to inform your father that you've decided to wed."
Rela's mouth felt suddenly dry. She swallowed and licked her lips nervously. "Your Majesty, I've decided no such thing. Prince Malgar is a fine man, but I've already promised to marry."
Malgar burst into a long, booming laughter that echoed through the throne room. "Surely you don't mean that fool of a banker's boy I saw you running about with? His family is wealthy enough, but such a marriage would waste your father's influence."
"I love him," Rela murmured, knowing those words meant less to Malgar than a spring rain on the ocean.
The King shook his head, annoyed now. "You bring me a girl already betrothed, with the feast to begin in moments and a grand announcement planned. No doubt the nobles have already learned that it's to be Rela; if we change our minds now, any other girl will see the insult in our actions." He drummed his heavy fingers on one of the wolf heads, his brow furrowed in thought.
Malgar seethed, his glare shifting between his father and Rela.
Finally, Volgar raised his head. "You'll wed Malgar, girl, by my command. He may not be the man you love, but you'll be queen someday, and that should soften the blow."
Rela felt a ball of ice form in her belly as all her hopes were swept away by the machinations of these powerful men. She thought of a life wed to Malgar and shuddered. He had a handsome face, and in the depths of her heart, she found him alluring in some strange, primal way, but to betray Collen would be unthinkable.
She steeled herself and straightened her back, meeting the king's intimidating blue eyes with all the command she could muster. "Your Highness, I must decline. I mean no insult to you or your son, but Collen is to be my husband."
Volgar's face darkened with rage, and he slammed his fists down on the throne's armrests as he stood. "Captain Marcor! What is the most distant village in my realm?"
By the door, Marcor frowned for a moment, clearly wishing he was anywhere else. "Krall, your majesty. It sits in the foothills of the Black Mountains."
Volgar's eyes found Rela's and bored into her like two icy augurs. "By order of the throne, this Collen fellow is banished to the farthest village in my realm. He shall depart immediately under armed escort, and never return on penalty of death! See to it, Captain."
"Yes, your majesty." The guardsman at the door saluted and turned to go.
"And if you speak of this to anyone, I'll have your head!" Volgar's bellowing words followed him out.
Rela felt tears welling up in her eyes. How could the king so casually cast aside the man she loved?
"Do you wish to test me further, girl?"
Volgar was in a rage, his broad shoulders and thick chest heaving with each deep breath. He seemed ready to pounce, and yellow torchlight made a fiery reflection in his blue eyes. Rela shook her head, not daring to speak. This man could destroy her on a whim, or Collen, or her father.
"Father," Malgar urged, his eyes wide with alarm. "Please, calm down."
Volgar's blue eyes met his son's with a baleful glare, but he reluctantly nodded, and his breathing slowed. He eased back down onto the throne, and the wild light in his eyes seemed to fade as he looked at Rela. "I don't suppose you'll walk out smiling on Malgar's arm tonight, ready to play the enamored bride-to-be?"
Rela shook her head.
Volgar grunted. "And yet if I release you, you'll no doubt run to this banker's boy and warn him. I suppose we'd have to chase you both out of hiding." He growled deep in his throat. "So you'll stay here as our guest until you have a change of heart." He turned to his son. "Malgar, take her to Dunner's cell. I won't have the servants seeing her and starting rumors that my son can't entice a bride with the throne of the realm."
Malgar's face reddened in shame and anger, but he gave King Volgar a curt bow. "As you wish, father." He stepped forward and closed one hand around Rela's wrist in an iron grasp. "Come with me, woman."
She had no choice but to follow the heavily muscled young warrior, hurrying to match his long stride.
He took her through a side door and down a short corridor, then opened a small door that he had to duck through. A spiraling stairwell led them deep into the bowels of the castle, where the torches grew further and further apart, and the weight of the stone above seemed to press down on their heads.
Malgar had released her arm, but Rela had no way to flee. The bulky prince filled the stairwell behind her, and she could feel his tension behind her like a serpent coiled to strike. As she descended, Rela wondered where Collen was. She missed him terribly now, and wished that she'd given herself to him. The king's word was law; Collen could never return to the city, but at least she knew where he'd been sent. Maybe someday... No, she pushed that thought out of her head. Better to focus on the present.
The stairwell ended in a broad corridor with curved ceilings of dark stone. Water dripped from cracks in the mortar, and torches guttered in iron sconces, casting a low light across the wet slabs beneath their feet.
Prince Malgar pushed open a thick wooden door and motioned her into a wide chamber. A wall of black iron bars bisected the room, and the floor on the other side was covered in straw. Nearer the door, a scrawny bald man sat at a wooden desk, idly whittling with a small knife. He looked up at Malgar and nodded, then his eyes flickered to Rela. They were flat, dead eyes, as void of emotion as two lumps of coal. His mouth hung open for a moment, and she could see that his toothless gums were red with infection. He made a puckered face when he closed his lips, sucking at the gums. Rela had seen this before; Magdha sold a poultice to ease the pain, and old men often visited her shop to buy it.
"Stand up and show some respect, Dunner," Malgar growled. "You have
a new guest."
Dunner clambered to his feet and gave Rela a mocking bow, then hurried to open the barred door to the cell. Malgar shoved her inside, and the door slammed shut with a sound of utter finality.
She turned and face the bars. "Please, Malgar, you must convince your father to change his mind. Surely another woman would better suit you."
Malgar just chuckled. "You should have been more appreciative, Rela. Being a queen wouldn't be so bad, you know." He stepped up against the bars, and even though his hulking presence made her want to step back, Rela held her ground. "In time, I believe you would find me irresistable," he said, smiling that toothy smile again. His eyes seemed to flash from blue to gold for a moment, some trick of the torchlight as it cast its dim glow across the room.
"Please, Malgar," she said.
"We'll talk again tomorrow night," he said. "We'll see then if you're more willing." He turned toward the door, then paused. "Oh, and share anything you like with Dunner here. My father cut out his tongue twenty years ago, and since he can't read or write, he does an amazing job of keeping secrets!" Malgar chuckled and strode out, slamming the wooden door behind him.
Dunner stared at the door and shook his head in disgust, then sat back down at the desk and went back to his whittling without so much as a glance for his new prisoner.
Rela leaned against the bars and closed her eyes. Images of Collen danced across her memory, his sweet kiss, his eager lust, his strong hands, even the feel of his big, hard manhood thrusting in her mouth. She felt the walls of the cell closing in on her, and her mind raced as she tried to imagine some way out of this.
Collen would be banished and taken far away, and her father would take weeks to arrive by coach. She was desperately alone with no real options, and she knew it would be only a matter of time before she gave in to Malgar's wishes. She imagined herself walking through the castle's grand ballroom, a smile frozen on her face as she clung to Malgar's thick arm. Noblewomen would glare at her with envy in their eyes, never knowing that she'd been trapped like a songbird in a cage. She looked down at the silk dress she wore. She'd thrown it on hurriedly after racing to her apartments in the guest quarters, not even bothering to change petticoats. In this damp cell, it wouldn't be long before the fine silk was dirty and stained.
She froze, and a glimmer of hope arose in her heart. She looked at Dunner and remembered how he'd glared after Malgar's departure. Could he be trusted? Would he even understand?
She had to risk it; she had nothing to lose. She sat down on the straw-covered floor and gathered up her skirts. The petticoat she'd worn that morning was still stained with niproot, a bright yellow smear where she'd spilled the powder. She grabbed a fistful of the linen and tore off a strip of the stained fabric.
Dunner had stopped his whittling and watched her with the dull interest of a man used to long hours without amusement. When he saw that she wasn't doing anything that would allow her to escape, he returned to slicing away at the bit of wood in his hand.
"Dunner?" Rela said. "Please look at me."
Dunner just stared down at his hand, more intent than ever on shaving away chips, each one fresh and white as it hit the floor.
"Please," she said. "He's banished the man I love. You're my only hope." Her voice was ragged with worry now, and she saw his mouth tighten as he sucked at his toothless gums.
She remembered what Malgar had said. King Volgar had had this man's tongue cut out, condemning him to a solitary, boring life guarding a cell that until now had been empty. She tried again. "I can help you," she said. "I know a Wise Woman who can ease the pain in your mouth. If you go to her on my behalf, she will help you."
Dunner just snorted and pointed at his mouth, then shrugged as if to say How can I tell her what you want?
Rela stuck her hand through the bars, holding the tattered strip of her dress. "Please," she said, trying to stop her hand from trembling.
Rela stared at the dark stone wall, full of numbness. This far below the castle, there was no way of knowing whether it was day or night, but it seemed hours since Dunner had left with the sliver of her dress shoved in her pocket. Silence and solitude spawned a series of ever-greater worries. Would he try to make Magdha understand? Or would he betray her to Prince Malgar? She shuddered at the thought of Malgar bringing his cruelty to the Wise Woman's little shop.
Rela shut her eyes and tried to take deep, slow breaths. So much was out of her control. She had to be patient.
The door swung open with a squeal of old hinges, and Rela jumped in surprise. Dunner strode in, his face a blank mask. Someone moved behind him, a slow, shuffling form clad in a thick cloak with a deep hood. Dunner pushed the door shut, and the shadowy figure cast back the hood to reveal Magdha's weathered face.
"A fine spot of trouble you've gotten yourself into, it seems," the Wise Woman said. She turned to Dunner. "Bring me that chair, man. My hip may never forgive me for all those stairs."
Rela grabbed the bars and smiled with relief. "Magdha! I'm so glad you're here; I need your help."
Dunner placed the chair in front of the bars, and Magdha settled down with a relieved sigh. After Rela told her of the king's ultimatum and Collen's banishment, the old woman frowned. "And what is it you think I can do, child? Overthrow King Volgar and his son besides?" She shook her head sadly. "I may see a way out of this mess, but it's you who will do the hard work. There are difficult choices ahead. Are you prepared to sacrifice?"
Rela nodded. "I'll do what I have to."
Magdha arched an eyebrow. "That remains to be seen. As I understand it, you have two options." She adjusted her shawl and frowned at Dunner. "Man, do you have a cup that isn't filthy? My old throat is parched."
Dunner nodded respectfully and hurried out of the cell, and when he'd gone, Magdha leaned forward. "Listen closely. That man helped you once, but we've no reason to trust him with this. You can escape and run away, but Volgar and his son won't forget such a slight. You'll spend the rest of your life hunted by two men who are very, very good at hunting. You can't go to Collen or your father, because they'll look for your there first. Even if you avoid them, either one may suffer for your betrayal. And if Malgar catches you, I don't have to tell you that it will end badly."
Despair seemed to wash over Rela at Magdha's grim portrayal of her situation. "Running doesn't sound like a choice at all," she admitted, her voice trembling. "What's my other option?"
Magdha's face darkened, and she took a deep breath. "You've shown a talent for the Craft, girl. But there are things we of which haven't yet spoken. There are reasons that people mistrust Wise Women."
"The Dark Craft?" Rela asked, her voice hushed.
Magdha nodded. "I wouldn't even mention it, but I've never known of a need more dire or a victim more deserving. The Dark Craft taps a well of forbidden knowledge that some say is evil. But there are other evils in the world. Volgar and his spawn are not what they seem, Rela."
"What are they?" she asked.
Magdha opened her mouth to answer, then shook her head. "You'll learn for yourself if you choose this path. But it is not a path to choose lightly. Even used for the most noble of purposes, the Dark Craft has a way of corrupting a Wise Woman. It requires the utmost sacrifice, and with it, half-measures are impossible. If you use it, the Dark Craft will destroy Malgar and his father utterly, and mean the ruination of their line." She paused and let Rela consider her words carefully, then said, "It will also require a dear sacrifice from you."
Rela thought of the king and his son, what they'd done to her and Collen. Her desire for revenge strengthened her resolve, and she said, "I'll do it."
Sadness passed over Magdha's face and vanished like a cloud blowing across the moon. For a long moment, she didn't speak. Finally, she let out a tired sigh and shook her head. "I'm old, Rela. Soon I'll pass on, and this burden will be yours to bear alone. You've chosen, and so I will tell you what I know."
When Dunner returned carrying a tin cup of water, Ma
gdha had departed, and Rela sat on the straw in the middle of her cell, her face placid. Dunner stared at her for a moment, then dragged his chair back to the desk and picked up his whittling knife.
The hours crawled past, and Rela went over her plan in careful detail, considering every possible contingency. If she was to do this, she must succeed, or the results would be disastrous. When even the most intricate detail of her plan circled back through her mind for the third time, the waiting became terrible. All that was left was to doubt herself. When the wooden door opened to admit Malgar, she felt almost relieved.
The prince's broad shoulders filled the doorway, and his eyes seemed to glow in the dim torchlight. He wore only simple trousers and a dark linen tunic. "Leave us," he said to Dunner. "I'll send for you when I'm done here." The small man scurried out and didn't look back.
Rela sat on the floor, staring up at him. Malgar's smile was cold and sure, but it faltered under her steady gaze. He opened the door to the cell and stepped inside.
"Do I have your answer yet, Lady Rela?"
She surprised him by rising to her feet and gliding across the straw to him. His scent filled her nostrils, a crisp musk that made her think of wild things hunting in a snowy forest. Despite her feelings for the man, that scent stirred something in her, an urge stronger than what she'd felt with Collen. She pushed her lover out of her mind and focused on the prince.
"Prince Malgar, if I'm to wed you, I would be a faithful wife," she said, surprised at the steadiness of her voice. "I've never lain with a man, but I know a few things. How am I to be certain that you can meet a woman's needs?"
Malgar's lip curled up in a sneer. "You doubt my prowess in bed, Lady Rela? There are noblewomen who whisper of my talents, and tavern wenches who sing of them." This close, he was huge, even without his armor on. He pulled the tunic over his head to reveal his bare chest, all covered in muscle and coarse brown hair. His torso was as thick as a barrel, with rounded shoulders and a powerful chest.
Virgin Prisoner: Bred to the Beast (Werewolf Breeding Erotica) (Bred to the Beast: The Virgin Trilogy) Page 3