Vengeance

by Amy Miles

  I refuse to look away from his anger, watching as his chest rises and falls rapidly. His fingers clench into fists, his body posture curled inward. I sigh. “Those things do not define you as a man Bastien, but as a soldier. You have seen terrible things and come through them, but do not think you have been left unscathed by them. I can’t believe that you have always been this remote. No.” I shake my head. “You may think that shutting off your emotions is the only way to live but it is a lie.”

  Bastien grits his teeth and looks away. “It’s how I get by.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  He tosses his hands up in the air. They fall heavily on his legs as he turns to glare at me. “What do you want from me? Huh? You want me to tell you that I’m thrilled you’re carrying another man’s child? Is that what you want? You want me to tell you that I’m happy for Eamon, that he got everything he ever wanted?”

  “Not everything,” I whisper and lower my gaze, knowing that a part of me, that emptiness in my chest that I feel each time I wake from one of my dreams, has always belonged to Bastien.

  Bastien pushed up onto his knees and approaches me. The broken chains dangle from his manacles as he reaches out to grab onto my arms, waiting for me to look up at him. “What do you want from me?” he asks again, but this time there is a pleading in his voice.

  The wall in his eyes has faltered. As I stare up into the sapphire color that has haunted my dreams for many months I can see only pain, raw and festering, a wound left far too long without attention.

  “I can’t do this on my own.” I tremble from head to foot as my plea makes him deflate completely before me. He sinks back onto his heels and hangs his head. “I’m terrified, Bastien.”

  I watch the muscles along his neck pulse as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. Though his grip on my arms is not tight I can feel the effort it takes for him to control the emotions rolling over him.

  “Every new mother has fears…”

  I nod. “But not every mother has to trade the life of her children for a man she once loved.”

  Bastien gasps and raises his head. His sharpened gaze searches my face as tears spills over. “What did you say?”

  “I...I had no choice,” I cry. I bury my face in my hands. He holds me, wrapping his arms tightly around my shoulders to help me remain upright.

  “What happened?”

  “I…” my voice fails me completely as I collapse against him. He easily takes my weight.

  I had not thought I had any tears left to shed after a night spent crying, but I am wrong. My tears dampen his shirt as he tucks me under his chin, holding me close. Holding me together. I can’t bear to tell him about the bargain I was forced to accept to save his life. The way Drach had dangled Bastien before me, his curved claw digging deeper and deeper into his throat, too close to his artery.

  Blood had poured from Bastien’s neck. His mouth slack in a silent cry of pain. I don’t know what they gave him to induce such a horrific catatonic state but as the tears slipped from his eye I knew he could feel, not just the pain but the fear as well. I had no choice.

  “I agreed to give Drach my children once they were born in exchange for your life,” I whisper, clinging to his shirt. I curl my fingers into the fabric, breathing deep his familiar scent. Even as I do I know within my soul that this is not the first time I have held him. He smells right. He smells like home.

  “You should have let me die.”

  I push back away from him, horrified at the dullness in his voice. His gaze is far away when I look at him. “How can you say that?”

  He smiles softly as he turns to look down at me. “Isn’t this how it was always meant to be? You are with Eamon, as it was written. You are carrying his children, as was foretold. From the very beginning I have just been in the way, making you stumble.”

  “That’s not true,” I protest.

  His eyebrow rises. “You can’t say that. You don’t remember.”

  I press my hand to his chest, focusing on the steady thumping of life beating there. “I paid for your life, and I’m not about to let you throw it away. I need you. My children need you.”

  “They need their father,” Bastien mutters.

  I reach out and grab his cheek, pulling him back toward me. “You are here now, in this place with me. How can you say that fate did not bring us to this point for this very moment?”

  Bastien swallows hard but does not pull back from my touch. “I’ve learned that fate has a sick sense of humor.”

  “Maybe so,” I relent, “but I believe everything happens for a reason. I don’t pretend to know why, but I have faith.”

  “Faith?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Now you want to believe in some outside influence?”

  I tighten my grip on his chin and he refocuses on me. “I have faith in you and right now, that’s all I need.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “Who is Niyah?” I ask, setting aside the small plate of food that has been brought. Today it is some sort of a greenish soup, lumpy and cooling rapidly. My stomach turns at the smell of it but I force myself to eat. Though my hunger grows as rapidly as the rise of my belly, I struggle to keep anything down.

  Bastien’s eyes pop open. A large chunk of bread hangs from his fingers, the soup dripping back into his bowl as his mouth gapes open. Slowly he lowers his hand and lets the soaked bread plop back onto his plate. He sets it aside and wipes his hands on his pants. “How do you know that name?”

  “I met a man back in my cell on the slave ship who knew her,” I say, unwilling to give him details about Hyde. It is not that I want to be dishonest with him. No, I withhold the information for fear of how Bastien might react. Judging by the vein pulsing down his forehead this is not a subject that he is too fond of speaking of, especially with me.

  Besides, surely after nearly two full weeks on this planet Hyde is long gone by now. He was probably sold to one of the miners and sent underground. “Who is she?” I ask again, ignoring his question.

  Bastien swallows hard. For a moment I think he is going to retreat fully, pained by yet another ghost from the past, but he surprises me. “She was my girlfriend. Well, as far as she was concerned at least. Things didn’t really work out between us.”

  “Why not?”

  He shoots me a pointed glance and I purse my lips. Right. Should have seen that one coming from a mile off!

  “So what happened to her?”

  He shrugs. “Don’t know. After Aloysius fell I asked Kyan to send me as far away as he could. It was just easier that way. She tried to write me.” He snorts and shakes his head. “I never did read her letter. Couldn’t, I guess. Nothing she could say would change my mind about her.”

  I bite on my lower lip, seeing my dream of him on Alenida all over again. I was not an outsider looking in for that dream. I was Bastien. I remember his annoyance when Kyan called, remember his panic when he realized it was my wedding day. I also remember how he felt about Niyah.

  “She hurt you...” I whisper, trying to push away the feelings that this dream dredges up. Although I may not remember her, I am angered for the pain she obviously caused him. “I can see why you can’t forgive her.”

  “No,” he shakes his head adamantly. “I can forgive her for betraying me. I understand the potency of jealousy, but too many good men died that day because of that jealousy.”

  His shoulders sag with the pain rising from his past. “I nearly lost you because of her actions. I vowed that day that I would do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if that meant keeping you safe from me.”

  Bastien’s words feel like a splash of icy water against naked flesh. “Did you even ask me what I wanted before you confronted Kyan?”

  “No.” He lifts his gaze to meet mine. “I knew what you would say.”

  “But it was my choice to make, Bastien. You took that from me.” My fingers clench against my knees. Will this ever get any easier?

  He nods. “I know. Kyan warned me that
if you ever found out you would be furious.”

  “No,” I whisper, turning my face away so that he can’t see the tears that have begun to form in my eyes. “I’m not angry. I feel broken.”

  He hangs his head, weighted with what I can only imagine to be guilt. “I did what I thought was best for you.”

  I push my plate aside and scoot toward him. I reach out and touch his arm, noticing that his skin feels warm and clammy but thankfully not from fever. Many of his wounds have begun to scab over. Within another week or so the bruising will have vanished completely and he will be back to normal.

  “I appreciate the fact that you did what you felt was best, but I deserved a chance to make that choice for myself.”

  “And what would you have chosen?” He raises his head to look at me. The skin around his eyes is dark and puffy from lack of rest. He is exhausted. I am too.

  I pull my hand back and tuck it into my lap. “Honestly? I don’t know.” I look about the room, my gaze not settling on any one thing for longer than a moment. My mind scrambles for words that do not come. Finally I give up and shrug. “I know what must have been expected of me. The prophecy was clear about Eamon being my intended husband, but if you and I were…um...something more, that tells me that somehow the rules were broken. For that to even be possible…” I trail off, unsure of how to verbalize my confusion.

  The longer I am with Bastien the more fuddled my mind becomes. I have started second guessing everything, wondering what I can rely on as fact and what is fiction. Bastien has filled in a few of the gaps in my memory. Now that he has, I can see Kyan’s handiwork. It is almost like watching a video that skips on a screen. Only the slightest hint that something was skipped over, but still there nonetheless.

  My conversation with Sariana in her woodland hut is a disjointed memory. Fragments pieced back together, though poorly done. Kyan must have rushed through some of his work. I wonder what happened that would cause him to be so careless.

  I square off my shoulders and offer him what I hope to be a convincing smile. “The answer is, I have no clue what I would have done. Maybe you were right to take that decision away from me. Maybe in one aspect this was the lesser of two pains for me, but you took on that burden. You never should have done that alone.”

  Bastien slops his bread about his bowl of soup, lost in thought. His contemplative state lingers for several minutes. “Illyria, I need to tell you--”

  I whip around as the door to our room opens. The wood hits the wall with a resounding boom. A giant Roamer stands in the doorway, his bald head nearly touching the top of the doorway. His eyes are the color of amber, his skin a burnt orange. The claws that curl out from his four toes glisten in the light, as if they have been recently sharpened.

  A broad string of bones hangs over his chest. A spiked club hangs from a cloth belt at his waist. I am relieved to see that this one has taken the care to cover himself properly.

  Bastien pushes up off the ground and faces off with the Roamer. “What do you want?”

  The low hiss and flicker of its tongue sends ripples of apprehension down my arms. I reach up to my ear and press the button on the translator, wincing at the shrill scream when it engages. Bastien glances back at me as I cry out but I hold out my hand, waving him off.

  When the feedback dies off I straighten and face the monster. “I can understand you now.”

  Beady dull red eyes swivel to look at me. With its eyes set further back on the sides of its head it looks as if it is staring toward the wall instead of me. “You have been summoned.”

  I look to Bastien and translate for him. His stance changes as he unconsciously moves between us. “She’s not going anywhere.”

  A huge arm flashes out and backhands Bastien. He spins and slams face first into the wall. He looks dazed as he stumbles back but he remains standing. I cry out and start to run to him but an arm snatches me back. Bastien shakes his head as if trying to clear his head.

  “It’s ok. I think he just wants to talk,” I cry over my shoulder as I am hauled out into the passage and the door slams behind me, sealing Bastien inside.

  I don’t like leaving Bastien behind, but the Roamer that came to collect me didn’t ask my opinion. I looked back at the door to our room until we turn a corner and it is lost to me. A feeling of dread sinks into the pit of my stomach as I turn forward once more. My feet dangle against the ground, my arms pinched between the great fingers of my guard.

  Why do they always insist on carrying me? It’s not like I don’t have two feet that work!

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “Pipe down,” it hisses back.

  Darn this stupid collar! I would like nothing more than to rip this thing off and remind my captors of exactly who it is that they are dealing with. No one tells me to pipe down!

  As we enter a familiar room, the one in which I met Drach nearly two weeks before, I am thrown to the floor. The skin of my hands peels open and my knees burn beneath the fabric of my pants. I cry out and turn to glare up at my guard but he seems to enjoy my anger.

  “Enough.”

  I turn as Drach enters the room. The small device that has been attached to my ear whistles shrilly at his loud command. I wince and raise my hand to hold my ear. A slight ringing remains as Drach moves to sit on his seat, reminding me of a king lording over his people from a throne.

  “I ordered you to be gentle with this one. Her condition is fragile.” His fierce reprimand forces the Roamer to dip his head. I don’t believe for a second that he is sorry for how he treated me, but at least he does appear to be submissive. “Leave us.”

  The giant turns without a word and tromps to the back of the room. He pushes aside the heavy curtain that separates the room from the hall beyond and disappears, leaving me completely alone with my captor. Even the slaves seem to have been sent away.

  What on earth could be so important that he would need to speak to me in complete privacy?

  “I am sorry for that,” Drach says. The translator in my ear pops with static. It is an odd sensation to hear the robotic voice in one ear and hissing in the other. “I assure you that it will not happen again.”

  I nod and press my hands to my stomach, realizing for the first time that I have blood smeared across my flesh from the skin peeled from my palms. I clench my fists and ignore the painful throbbing. “Why am I here?”

  “I thought we had already established this, Queen Illyria. I desire your children.”

  “No,” I shake my head and then drill him with a direct gaze. “Why am I here now? A couple weeks ago you told me that you want my children then you shove me into a dirt hole with Bastien only to bring me back out to play with again whenever it pleases you? I’m not a toy.”

  A barking laughter rises in his throat. “No. I think not. A toy can be broken. You, on the other hand, seem immune to that.” My gaze falters for a split second but it is long enough for his smile to broaden. “Or maybe you can be.”

  I grit my teeth, trying desperately not to think about the things Bastien has revealed to me. If what he says is true, and I’m rapidly beginning to trust the fact that it is, then he is a weakness that I cannot afford. I press back my shoulders and strengthen my glare. “My husband is not here for you to threaten me with, and I know desperation when I see it. You don’t desire my children. You need them.”

  Drach’s lipless smile falters. “I need nothing!”

  His adamant refusal only proves that I am right...but why? What significance does he think my children hold? Can he see into the future when I cannot? I can sense a tone of anxiety in his voice but am left floundering for a reason.

  “So am I to remain here for the next several months in that room?” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Yessss,” he draws out his hiss. “I will keep you safe.”

  “Safe?” I don’t like the sound of that. “Safe from what?”

  Drach turns his head away and I get the distinct feeling that he is dismissing me and
yet there are no guards here to retrieve me. More likely it is that he does not want to answer my question. Logic would tell me to let the matter drop but I’ve never really been all that good with following a path that is in my best interest. “Am I a prisoner?”

  “Prisoner?” He seems to ponder this question for several moments. “Yes, but not a slave. I will allow you to be free to come and go as long as you remain inside.”

  “Why can’t I go outside?” I question.

  As I look around the room I realize for the first time there are no windows. Only two doors enter and leave from this room. A feeling of unease settles over me as he rolls his eyes back to stare at me. “It is not safe.”

  “Yeah, you said that already.” I sigh and shake my head. “What about Bastien? You promised an exchange. His life for my children.”

  “Yessss.” His thick forked black tongue flickers out from between his teeth. “He will make a good slave.”

  “No. I demand that he remain with me. If there is a danger to me and my children I will need a protector.”

  Drach surges to his feet, stunning me with such speed for a creature his size. “I am your protector.”

  I force myself to smile. “I am sure that you are most capable but you can’t be with me at all times. If the lives of my children are as important as you claim them to be, is it not in your best interest to grant me this request?”

  Raising a single curled claw, Drach scratches the underside of his throat. It is hard to call it a neck, as he doesn’t really seem to have one. It all seems to just be an extension of his elongated head and broad torso. The underside is black as night, a vivid contrast from the bright scarlet of his hood. I force myself not to shiver at the sight of him.

  Drach stands well over nine feet tall. He is among the largest of the Roamers that I have seen. I wonder if this culture is like others. Survival of the fittest. The biggest and meanest control all.

  “You will be moved into my quarters. There I will keep an eye on you.”