Love was a luxury he had never believed he could afford—not with the dark secret he carried in his life. The closest he had come was surely with Lily but he knew she had never felt loved and that was guilt he deserved. Perhaps the love he would only ever know was the love of his mother and that of a friend. Jewd loved him, that he knew.
Just as he was thinking how good it was to feel well again he felt his bile rise and his heart began to pound. His head snapped up as he instinctively searched for her. There she was, sitting down on the other side of the brook, far enough away that he could barely make out her features.
“Please . . .” he called out, his hands out as if to shield himself. Even he could hear a plea in his voice he had never heard before.
“No further,” she said. “I promise. I just want to talk, that’s all. How are you feeling?”
A Valisar who cared. He gave a lopsided grin. “I’ve had much better days,” he admitted.
He watched her smile gently. “I’m really sorry about coming here. It was not my idea. Corbel said I should talk with you. He said he thinks you need to know me.” She shrugged, looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure what it can achieve.”
She had a nice voice. She was still young, perhaps just into her third decade but nevertheless far older than she should be. In his estimation Leo’s sister should be ten anni. He regarded her and she didn’t seem to mind the silence; she was not tall from what he could tell and she was slim. Her hair was tied back but he’d wager if it were loose it would be that slippery shiny hair he adored in a woman. And it was dark, almost black like her father’s. Instantly he felt a stab of guilt on behalf of Lily, who had thick, coarser hair that turned wavy the longer it was allowed to grow.
“If I told you about myself you might understand that I am feeling as frightened and as confused as perhaps you do,” she offered.
He nodded. “Tell me about your life,” he said, liking that despite her claim to fearfulness she was direct, her voice clear and calm.
“All right.” She looked down, seemed to gather her thoughts. “I grew up feeling lonely . . .” she began.
And as she continued Kilt was soothed by her even tone, impressed by her candor. Her sorrows and sense of dislocation resonated strongly with his own.
“The hospital became my haven and the quiet man I knew as Reg,” she gave a soft shrug, “Corbel de Vis, I mean, became my anchor. He made me feel steady and safe. The hospital and my one friend—they were my life.”
He didn’t interrupt as he listened, falling deeper and deeper under her spell. As her story continued he realized that Princess Genevieve was every bit a victim of the Valisar curse as he was.
Tolt refused to come to him but Leo only had to clap eyes on the young man, working quietly at his labors, to know that this fellow had no connection to the Valisars. He looked at Reuth and gave a soft shake of his head. While her expression didn’t change, the set of her shoulders drooped, telling him she was every bit as disappointed as he must appear.
She muttered something to Marth, who in turn urged forward the two men they had decided to bring in on the plot. Leo had been firmly against expanding his secret’s reach but Reuth and Marth had held firm to the belief that should one of these Vested prove to be the one he sought then they would surely need restraining beyond what the three of them could provide. And Leo had to agree. Going by Kilt’s reaction alone, there was a good chance his aegis would make a dash for freedom or fight them to the end.
It seemed Marth and Reuth were taking his idea seriously; his arrival and his challenge had obviously spoken loudly to their deep-seated hatred of the barbarians and their long disguised passion to strike back. He, on the other hand, held out little hope now that he would find his aegis here and he moved with a slightly heavier heart, following Reuth to where she said they would find the young recluse called Perl.
“She’s on the other side of the encampment,” Reuth warned. “It’s a bit of a hike.”
Leo shrugged and turned to Marth. As he was about to speak, a sensation he had not felt since he was a twelve-anni-old youth reached its tendrils around his gut and squeezed.
He stopped dead; took a steadying breath. This felt utterly unlike what he’d felt with Kilt, Greven and Roddy. In truth his response to being in their midst had been virtually silent, certainly invisible; he’d had no physical reaction to them at all even though Kilt had admitted he had always felt repulsed in his company.
But this! It was euphoric. And very powerful.
“What’s wrong?” It was Reuth and he realized she’d been shaking his arm.
Leo began to retreat.
“Where are you going?” Marth asked, expressing a look and tone of concern to match Reuth’s.
Four steps back and the feeling of euphoria subsided. Leo let out his breath, his face breaking into a hard, tight smile. “I’ve found my aegis,” he uttered.
Questions fell from his companions but he ignored them, asking his own. “It’s her. It’s the woman Perl. How far are we from where she lives?”
Reuth stopped her gabbling. “We’re now about four perhaps five hundred steps from her tiny half cottage.”
He nodded. “Then she already knows. She might be already preparing to flee. You had better get over there,” he said to Reuth and Marth, whose faces were identical studies of confusion. “Reuth, you go in alone. She trusts you. Calm her. You must stall her while I think this through. Hurry ahead.”
“But how do you know it’s her?” Reuth persisted.
“You are going to have to trust me and the Valisar magic. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain by doing so. But you’re also going to have to convince her to make the sacrifice. I’m sure you can be very persuasive, given that this is your dream coming true. I promise you, Reuth, Marth, with Perl’s help, you will be able to take your revenge. Now go. Do not let her escape.”
And Reuth was running, Marth following at a safe distance with his minders in tow. Leo did not hurry. He needed to stay back, well out of the magic’s sensitive reach, until he knew Perl was fully captive.
They had been sitting for so long he was sure her backside was as numb as his but neither moved. Her voice was beginning to lose its smoothness, was sounding vaguely gritty from her long period of storytelling, but still he was anchored to it.
“In pain, aren’t you?” she said. “And that troubles me. I’m a doctor, after all.” She stopped, looked up from where she had been fiddling with the grass between her boots.
It was the pause he heard before the question filtered through the layers of thought, mesmiration, lull of false security, and joy and fear of her presence. “Pardon?”
She shrugged. “I’m a healer of pain, not a bringer of it.”
“If it’s any consolation, it is a rapturous pain.”
Evie grinned. “Like an orgasm,” she said, sounding embarrassed.
“What’s that?”
“Well,” she started slowly, reassuming her physician’s countenance, “during sex, either or both partners may experience a euphoric rush of sensation that—”
He began to laugh. “I know what it is, your majesty, I just wanted to know if you did.”
She gasped and gave him a look of pure murder rimmed with embarrassed amusement too, standing and surging forward as she did so. “You sod!” she said, uselessly flinging the grass in her hand at him.
He too stood, laughing, but then doubled over. “Oh, no closer, highness. That magical orgasmic feeling isn’t nearly as much fun as the physical.”
She stuffed her hands into her skirt pockets and stepped back a few yards. “I wouldn’t know.”
He blinked. “But from what I can see you are beautiful. What do you mean, you wouldn’t know?”
“Kilt—may I call you that?”
“You may.”
“Well, Kilt, where I come from we aren’t all married off or pregnant or indeed even eligible for either by the time womanhood first shows its signs of emerging. Women
choose when they will lose their virginity. Some of us wait.”
“For what?”
“To find the right person who is worth giving it up to.”
Kilt hesitated. “Are you talking about falling in love?”
She shrugged. “Yes. Although, not necessarily with the person you might want to spend the rest of your life with but most women want to feel very fond, even be in love, for their first time.”
“That’s quaint.”
“Are you making fun of me again?”
“I’m not sure. You seem so awkward and embarrassed about something so natural. Men and women fu—”
She cleared her throat, interrupting him. “That’s such a typical man’s response. It’s the perfect excuse.”
“Really?”
She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know. My whole world is upside down, Kilt. I don’t know what I’m doing here or why you have to feel pain when you’re near me, or why I am so strongly attracted to you.”
“Attracted to me. That’s such a gracious way to say it. It’s more like compulsion. But that’s the magic at work.”
“Is it?”
He stared at her. “I . . .” He hesitated, his gaze narrowing. “I’m not sure what you mean, majesty.”
She sighed. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, looking around. “There is no getting away from, the fact that I am drawn helplessly to you and you to me. I am resisting the urge to leap over this waterway and . . .”
“And what? Eat me?”
She made a groaning sound. “No! Maybe. Corbel told me some ridiculous—no, outrageous—and hideous tale about how I must bond you.”
“He is right. Every fiber of your body must want me.”
She laughed. “Now where I come from that sort of line would get your face slapped.”
He grinned. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean. It’s true, but I have a much higher threshold of resistance than people are giving me credit for. I will not be ruled by a magic. I refuse to capitulate to it. I will show it that I am in charge of it and not the other way around.”
“Do you feel sick?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s more of a hunger . . . a pang. If you got up now and walked away I would feel an intense desire to hunt you.”
He nodded. “That is its way; how I’ve always imagined it must feel to be Valisar. For me it is similar and yet somehow opposite. I am drawn to you but the feeling, though one of rapture, is mixed with fear and loathing. And the pain is intense and yet I can’t help myself. We are far enough away . . . just . . . that I have a smidge of resistance. I have exercised control over your brother and your uncle but they are merely men,” he said with feigned condescension. “They can’t hold a candle to your power.”
“Why is that? Chance?”
“Not chance,” he said, smiling crookedly. “Fate perhaps. Obviously no one has explained much about your magic to you.”
She shook her head sadly. “I’ve lived oblivious for nearly twenty-one years . . . er, anni, I gather I’m supposed to say.”
“Then let me educate you swiftly and concisely.”
She smiled and although he couldn’t see her eyes, he felt the radiance and kindness in her gaze.
“So,” he began, “let us sit down again on our respective banks.” He did so and watched as she followed suit. “I shall tell you everything I know about you Valisars—and especially the female power—and as much as I can about myself.”
She lay back, gazed up at the sky and listened as Kilt began a story he admitted he had never told anyone in its entirety before.
Perl had been shelling peas when she sensed it. She cried out and doubled over as what felt to be her very spirit surged out, seeking, questing . . . and finding. She felt pulled in different directions—an overwhelming desire to race toward the source of that joy and the compulsion to run as fast as she could away from it, away from the feelings of dizziness and nausea that had since followed.
When she straightened, breathing heavily, everything was normal and that previous stark sensation had dissipated; she waited, not sure of what she was waiting for. There was no sound but her breathing and the birds squabbling outside. She had begun to doubt that the sensation occurred at all when she heard Reuth calling from the front door.
“Perl? Are you home?” came the familiar voice.
“Where else?” she replied, relieved that she was not alone any longer.
“Ah, there you are. Goodness me, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Everything all right?”
Did she detect a false note in Reuth’s voice?
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”
Reuth took her hand. That was unusual.
“Are you sure?” the older woman continued. “Because you look a bit peaky to me.”
“I . . . I did feel a bit faint a moment ago but I always forget to eat when I’m busy . . .” She looked down. Reuth’s knuckles were white against her hand.
“You’re hurting me,” she said, confusion claiming her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry, Perl. I’m so sorry,” Reuth said and then she looked toward the front door. “In here!” she called. “I’ve got her.”
Perl reacted like a burned cat, clawing and shrieking, but suddenly men were upon her, holding her down. Then the vile sensation claimed her again and she knew why they were here.
“Where?” she groaned.
“He’s coming, my girl. I’m so sorry,” Reuth said.
“Who is it?” she cried.
Marth growled. “Hush now, keep your voice down, lass, or you’ll have us all killed for our trouble.”
Reuth stroked her face, begged her to be still. It was hopeless anyway, she knew it. She’d avoided this all of her life. Maybe it was easiest to just give up and give in.
“That’s it, that’s it, Perl. You be calm now, my girl,” Reuth said, tears streaking her cheeks. “It’s Leonel. He’s young and he’s handsome . . . and he’s—”
“Valisar!” Perl groaned. “Please, I beg you, don’t do this to me. You’re my friend.” She began to tremble, choking on the words as the pain intensified.
“You’re already dead in your heart, Perl. Already a prisoner. What difference does it make?” Reuth pleaded.
She was pinned down on her cot, her head flung back, and the men did not let up on their grip even though she had stopped struggling. The tears dripped from either side of her eyes into the scarf that covered her head. “But not in my mind, Reuth . . .” she cried. “I’m free in my mind.”
And she began to retch helplessly as a shadow fell across her doorway.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lily was tired. It had been a long and dusty journey. In an attempt not to draw undue attention to herself she had engaged in conversation with an older couple going north to take a dip in the mountain springs famed for their therapeutic effects. Though Lily was sure she could achieve similar, if not better, results with one of her unguents, she didn’t mention it. All she wanted to do was talk pleasantly but not too animatedly or expansively so that no one became too intrigued by the quiet woman, traveling alone in the corner of the carriage.
“Not long now,” the old man said genially.
“I imagine you’d know the journey well,” Lily replied, having learned that this was their sixth pilgrimage.
“Oh yes,” his wife confirmed, “although each anni we see some change in the landscape.” She pointed out of the window. “Those little dwellings weren’t there last anni and you know the town of Lower Flitchington that we passed through?” Lily nodded. “Well, that was little more than a dusty two-horse village when we first began coming through these parts.”
“And now look at it,” Lily finished for her and the woman smiled triumphantly.
“Exactly. Next time I might suggest to Burnard that we overnight there in one of its inns and not make this such a dash to the north.”
Lily smiled. “That would be nice,” she said, trying to keep up
her polite interest.
The fear and shock of Stracker, of Piven, of her father, not to mention the stress and adrenaline of outwitting her captors, was giving way to despair at Kirin’s brutal death. The more she thought about him the more convinced she was that somewhere in the traumatic but brief time they had been together she had fallen in love with his unassuming quiet strength and his tender, affectionate way. She’d always thought she loved Kilt but she now understood that what she had with Kilt was a great friendship. They had trusted each other, found each other amusing, and they were safe together. He had been good to her and while his remoteness had infuriated her, it was perhaps, she now realized, the aspect that she found most intriguing about him. She liked his mystery and his dangerous lifestyle, his recklessness and his sense of fun. She had confused excitement and his entertaining manner for love. But he had never loved her, she knew now. Love was what she had for Kirin and he’d had for her; Kirin had died because of her, selflessly protecting her.
She felt a sob rushing to her throat and caught it just in time.
“There’s the marker,” the man said, pointing with enthusiasm to the stone boulder. “You’ll be at the convent before you know it.”
Lily was grateful for his intrusion, swallowed her sob and took a deep breath to steady herself. Kirin was gone. She hoped Kilt and Jewd had stayed safe in the crowd and that one day soon their paths would cross. But now all she wanted was to take some time at the convent if they would permit her to stay for a while. She needed a quiet, uneventful stay.
Leo looked upon the woman writhing before him. He could see the revulsion and fear in her eyes but he felt only an immense feeling of pleasure. All nausea had fled, replaced with a rapture. This woman was his aegis; not just any aegis but the aegis born for him.
He had owned her from his birth. He could hear Reuth’s voice murmuring and cajoling; he could hear Marth giving orders to the other Vested and to Perl. He could hear Perl begging for pity that no one would extend. But he knew these things only through their tones, not their words; his hammering heart and his rushing blood were muting the sounds of the words. He could not focus on anything but his desire to trammel Perl.
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