"But I don't know why I want to be with someone I hate," she countered. "Someone bad. I do hate you; I have to. You abandoned me my whole life—and that you never knew it or bothered to find out just makes me madder—and then you bloody beat me till I thought I'd die. And you’re gonna do it again, ain’t you …?”
“Beat you? Oh yes—And don’t exaggerate; it doesn’t become you. Those times were for you, slave. You understand that, right?”
She nodded.
“You probably won’t enjoy it when it’s for me. It will be measured to my needs, not yours.”
“Will it heal …?”
“I am a careful man, even if I am a vindictive one.”
“You’re a killer, and you done … other things to people, and you’re not even apologetic. You threatened to …” She paused self-consciously. Just say it. “… rape me. I'm supposed to want to get away from you; you're supposed to repulse me. But these past couple weeks, you’ve been …” She shrugged. “I want to serve you. It’s insufferable. I’m not supposed to want to please you. I can't let myself feel these things—"
Lord Telyra reached for her chin again, the light from the window glinting in his eyes like the sun through ice-water. "I'm your master, girl. If you crave my attention—you desire my mastery. If you’re prepared to claw your way through your hatred, I’m here for you. Let me give you permission to feel and think on your own. You don’t need to define yourself by the standards of other people, people who make you feel shame for who you are. Or by your fears, your pains, your past. They're not your master—I am. I want nothing to do with them—not these other people and not your fears. You're the one sitting here with me now. You.”
~~~
Times had changed.
But before Lord Telyra had taken her in hand, there had been nothing worth remembering. Surely, somewhere in his cold, cold heart, he remembered too.
And now he needed her, as she had needed him. That too had been a situation of life and death. Another year or two without him, and …
Perhaps that wasn’t a very good reason for saving someone. But it was fair. At least if she did this, she would no longer feel she owed him something. The debt would be square.
Thomas had left the door ajar, and as she marched up the dungeon steps, she could hear the sounds of quarrelling from down the corridor. Following the voices, she emerged into the foyer. A bracing gale blew in through the open doors, rattling the beams and steeped with rain. Small puddles stood out on the flagstones, rippling with firelight from the hearth and chandeliers.
Thomas was there arguing with Dorthelda. Also in the circle were Celian and Geoffrey, as well as a handful of other people she’d never spoken to.
"Well then," announced Thomas, "if it en't the illiterate secretary. Come to see that no one was having you on—?"
Ten pairs of eyes turned on her. Julia glared from one to the next, then nodded dumbly.
"I guess not," she muttered.
"Are you going out then ...?"
Beyond those doors and across the yard the city waited: a sprawling mass of cobbles and mortar and numberless dark streets and alleys. She shivered.
"I don't know where to find him in that maze. You do realize I don’t know my way around? This is insane. It isn’t even legal for me to go out there. You know that."
"Well, Dorthelda thinks perhaps he’s busy with his own affairs, and interfering would be unwise—" started one of the men.
"Oh honestly, Julia,” interrupted Celian. “We know he’s probably in trouble. We don't want to find him. He's a monster.”
Julia gawked at her, thunderstruck but unsurprised.
“What?” the cook retorted. “He is. You’re the only one here who cares what happens to him.”
"But you work for him,” retorted Julia. “You're not a slave like me; he pays you. You entered into an agreement with him, by choice—it was your choice. Now you're saying—"
"That agreement doesn't include rescuing him from his own idiocy," pointed out Thomas. "He’s probably out getting wasted, but if he's captured or dying, the drunken bastard has it coming.”
“He said he was coming home tonight.”
“Why? You two have plans—?” He sniggered. “A fun evening of dinner, champagne and domestic violence?”
“Thomas, that’s enough—” cut in Dorthelda.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Was it something special …? Were you finally going to stroke that hard-on he gets every time he clobbers the shit out of you?”
Rage searing from her feet to the crown of her head, she launched at him. Dorthelda caught her under the arms.
“Thomas!” Dorthelda shouted. “Enough!”
“But just send someone else,” Julia begged, turning to face her. “Rizaq or Gulthor—why won’t you send for them."
“We already told you. We don’t want him to come back.”
"Dorthelda—" she stammered desperately. "You been with the lord for ... how many years now?"
"Thirty-five."
"How can you?" she demanded. "He's a person for gods' sakes. You've known him since he was a child, Dorthelda. I don’t know what’s more hypocritical, that you won’t lift a finger to save a man you’ve worked for for thirty-five years, or that you’ve worked for a man you respect so little for so long!”
"This is just a job,” put in the man who’d spoken earlier. “I guess you wouldn’t know what that means. Pay the bills, feed the missus. It isn’t personal.”
“He put his life on the line for you yesterday!” she hollered, her temperature rising. “Where’s your job gonna be if he dies? You should be ashamed, you cowards! I can't believe this—he was ready to die to defend you. For you and your stupid gods-damned war!”
"It’s your fault, Julia,” said Thomas. “If anyone should do anything, it’s you.”
"How in gods' names is this my fault?”
"You provoked him this morning.”
“I didn’t injure him. He injured himself. I got the doctor! He made the stupid decision to go out.”
“Blaming you isn’t our twisted logic; it’s his. It’s how he's bound to see it, because it’s how he looks at everything. He’ll say you pushed him to the edge.”
"You're gonna lose your jobs over this—!"
"Julia," said Celian amid unhappy murmurs, "… Listen to me. He's a foul man. He really is; he’s sick. And we're sick of him. He’s completely unstable. If he dies out there, it’d almost be a relief. You of all people here should understand that. How much longer do you think you’re going to survive his rage? Just let him go!”
“Do you want me to go or not?”
“Not.”
“—Go,” put in Thomas simultaneously. “Somebody has to; we’ve been over this. We do want her to go. We just don’t want him to come back.”
"So … let me see if I’ve got this insanity straight. You’re too scared of him not to do something. Because gods forbid he does need help and manages to make it back here alive in spite of you only to discover you abandoned him to die. But you’re going to make the most pitiful attempt you possibly can by sending me. Got your bases covered both ways, huh? Blameless.”
Celian threw up her arms. “Damnit Julia. We're giving you the option to do something. Because we know you care what happens to him. No one had to do this. We could've just left you down there without your say. The only reason we’re letting you do this is as a kindness to you. Not him."
Julia pressed her lips together, fighting to suppress her ire. "That’s bullshit. When I come back, with Lord Telyra in tow—you're gonna be in a lot of trouble. So … here's how things are gonna work. You're gonna get me a horse from the stables, a good one. And then you're gonna point me toward the nearest gate—and when I return with Lord Telyra, if he’s incapacitated, I'm gonna go right back downstairs. And you ain’t gonna tell him nothin’ when he wakes—and neither am I." She smiled sweetly. "I won't tell him how you stood here and did nothing, how you forced me to go out there and find him, how
you deliberately refused to call in his men. And maybe you'll get to keep your jobs, and your heads. And if he’s cogent? Or absolutely fine? I still won’t sell you out, not even then. I’ll tell him you had a plan and I refused to wait. He'll beat me up, and that'll be that."
"Beat you up?” scoffed Thomas. “He’s talking about killing you.”
"—There's gonna be some changes around here. Y'all are gonna leave me alone from now on. I won't be harassed. No one will tell me to work, no one will order me around, no one will look at me, talk to me, or touch me without my consent. No one is gonna fuck up my orders in the kitchen anymore, and no one is gonna sell me out to watch me bleed. If anybody does, I’m gonna rat out every last one of you."
For a moment, there was no sound but the crackling of logs in the fireplace and the wind whistling through the doors. Then Thomas laughed, splitting the stunned silence.
"You're bluffing," he said calmly. "You know, you can be a real bitch. Things aren't like they were anymore, are they ...? Something broke between you and the lord somewhere along the line. There’s no trust between you—hell, I think he hates you. You can say whatever the hell you want about us; he’s not going to believe you. He’s not going to thank you for interfering, he’s going to accuse you of running. You really want to blackmail us? Should’ve fucking left you to rot down there. And that’s exactly what we’ll do if you try to sell us out. You can rot in the ground, when that insane motherfucker finishes you. Fuck, you’re annoying."
Julia’s blood ran cold. She opened her mouth, stammering through a cloud of black depression, knowing even then she’d just lost the upper hand. Her hesitation alone had cost her.
"He'll believe me," she managed at last, "he’ll do that much ... whatever he thinks of me now," she finished in a shattered whisper.
The circle was starting to break up around the edges, the servants whispering to each other and laughing dismissively.
"Well, let's get you that horse—" started Dorthelda pityingly.
"If I don't get what I want, I'm gonna tell him everything,” she snarled. “Bet on it."
"We all have no doubt of that. But kindly keep in mind what Thomas said is true. You’re betting your life that Lord Telyra’s in danger. If he isn’t, we are the only ones who can protect you from his wrath. Even if he is, we’re probably still the only ones who can protect you from his wrath. Consider what he did to you this morning.”
“Bullshit.”
Shaking her head, Dorthelda stormed away toward the double-doors. When she reached them, she turned back, waving her arm impatiently. "... Well, come along now."
Julia levelled Thomas with crestfallen eyes. "Fuck you.”
The footman said nothing, pivoting on his heel, and strolled away.
Pausing on the doorstep beside the housekeeper, she felt the puddle of rainwater cold under her bare feet. She breathed in the crisp night air, electric with ozone, and plunged into the downpour.
Hurrying on ahead, Dorthelda covered her head against the barraging rain. Julia scampered through the muddy grass, fighting to keep up, slowed by aches and pains. They headed across the lawn toward a small wooden building, a blot of shadow in the night. Beyond it stretched the wall of the castle ward, almost invisible behind the black rainfall.
Dorthelda entered the long barn through a high doorway and Julia ducked gratefully under the sheltering eaves. The musty smell of horse was potent in the darkness, intermixed with the warm, dry scent of the hay prickling under her feet.
"Jared," called Dorthelda.
A torch bloomed at the far end of the loft and a sleepy face poked itself over the rail. "I say, at this hour of night—"
"Julia here requires a horse, as quick as you may."
"A fast one," added Julia.
Groggily, he stretched, running his hands through his dark curls. Then he started down the ladder, groaning. "Okay, I’ll get you set up—"
"Well, good luck.” Dorthelda disappeared into the rain before Julia could stop her.
When she turned back to the stableboy, he stared.
"What?" she demanded.
"You're a slave."
"Obviously. Look, please hurry up. I'm in a terrible rush. It’s a matter of life and death.”
He frowned. "You're too small for most of the horses. Hang on ..."
He stalked up and down the rows, peering in at the slumbering equine faces.
“Lord Telyra’s life?” he inquired abruptly.
“Yeah,” she blinked. “How did you know?”
“He never brought Seleda in tonight ... Nearly broke my legs when I was younger. The horse, I mean."
She snickered.
“You know he brings that horse in every night and grooms her and feeds her himself? Never asks me to do it. Good thing too, cause I can hardly control her. He loves that animal. Never uses a crop on her.”
“Interestingly enough,” she said, fighting not to laugh, “I managed to ascertain that for myself.”
"This one oughta' do ya."
Opening one of the stall doors, he waved her back.
When he emerged, he was eclipsed by a shadow of flesh and muscle, beautiful, secretive and powerful. Robust flanks shined in the torchlight like etched glass, large dark eyes twin orbs of polished obsidian in an elegantly carved glossy ebony face.
Though the horse was much smaller than Seleda, it suddenly seemed tremendous. It was hard to tell in the darkness of the barn where the beast’s body ended and the shadows began. It was surveying her quite calmly out of its unfathomable glass-orb eyes, but it was still an animal, and it occurred to her quite suddenly that her brilliant plan was not so brilliant.
"What's the matter?"
"It's a bloody lot bigger than I am,” she said, backing up.
"Smallest one here that en’t a pony.”
"... I never rode a horse before,” she said uneasily. “I don’t have the faintest idea what to do.”
"Well." He disappeared through a small door at the rear. Sounds of careless rummaging emerged, followed by his voice. "It's really not that hard. You'll see." Returning with a saddle and harness under his arm, he drew up to the animal, whispering in its ear.
"Come on," he encouraged her, securing the harness. "Give him a pat.”
Julia raised a timid hand to stroke the warm, silky hide, smiling nervously. Large, curious eyes turned backward to study her.
Probably sizing me up. This is such a bad idea …
"So it's quite simple. You just ... pull the left rein toward your hip if you wanna go left and press a bit with your left leg, the reverse to go right. If you wanna stop, you just pull back on both the reins. He'll probably try to eat along the way, if you're gettin' out of the city. If that's the case, don't let 'im start, or you'll never see the end of it."
“How do you get him to go?"
"A little kick on both sides, or even just press with your thighs. No need to overdo it. Right then, you're all set. Here's the stirrup. You just wanna use it like a step and swing your leg up and around—"
With some trouble, she managed to hoist herself up. “Oof,” she grunted, slumping inelegantly into the saddle.
"What's wrong?"
“I can't reach the stirrups. Am I gonna fall off?"
"No," he laughed, kneeling down to adjust them. "You're sittin' a bit unlady-like, and you don’t got the footwear, but you should be all right. What're you so worried about?"
She shrugged, eyeing her new mount dubiously. The black stallion returned her doubts with a glittering, impenetrable stare.
"Do you know the way to the nearest gate?"
"Sure. Just head out the drawbridge there, and take a left at the first major thoroughfare. When you get to Glory Way—"
"Can’t read."
"Okay ... well, just don't take any minor turns. Wait till you hit the next major intersection. And then take a left. Were it daylight you'd see the gate; as it is, you should see torches along the top of the wall. Oh … and by the way, a cant
er is rougher than a trot, but a gallop is smoother than a canter."
"Okay. Thank you.”
"You're welcome. I'm a get some sleep—just holler when you get back in, if the sound of the horse don't wake me first, 'k?"
"Thanks again. Um, how do I turn—?"
"Just pull on the left one."
The stallion trotted in an awkward circle, approaching the door. She stared out into the night, the cold rain striking her face. Now or never. She’d have to do it eventually.
"Gotta kick him—that's it—!"
His voice died out under the clop of hooves, the abrupt surge in momentum throwing her backwards, the saddle knocking into her thighs.
Stifling a scream, she yanked back on the reins. The stallion halted so suddenly that she was thrown forward again. It took a full minute of scrambling and clinging to convince herself that she was still in the saddle and not falling to the ground.
Gods, I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is insane. If Master doesn’t kill me, this horse is gonna do it for him.
Gently, she squeezed her thighs together, pulling clumsily on the rein until the stallion eased onto the cement path, his dark body melting into shadow. Behind her, the castle lights were like windows in the sky. Approaching the drawbridge, the waters of the moat were swollen, their rushing chaos filling her ears.
She had left these walls maybe a dozen times, always at Master’s side. She wouldn't have dared to run from him, but now she had a horse, and she was alone. She also had a collar, but as Kalorn had pointed out, that wasn’t insurmountable. Those first twelve years—and not a few times since—she’d have given anything to brush this close to freedom.
The stallion's hoof beats drummed a hollow cadence as she cantered across the bridge, through the outer gate, and out into the city, turning into the deserted street.
The dark facades of offices, closed stores, thatched houses and public buildings floated past and drifted out of sight. Here and there an island of light held fast in the flooded boulevard, the cobbles glistening below like the bed of a nocturnal river. Silhouettes danced within and snatches of laughter, rage or passion echoed out into the night. A cloud of drizzle blew into her face, dark shapes churning mysteriously in the heavens. She remembered what the stableboy had said about a smoother ride, and spurred the horse into a gallop, splashing through puddles and veering around potholes, the rain pelting into her skin like freezing needles.
Talystasia: A Faerytale Page 20