by JANRAE FRANK
* * * *
Yahni opened his eyes and stared out at the bright stars, like moonstones against black velvet. They were always brighter, it seemed to him, here in the mountains than down on the plateaus near the Iradrim borders where his father and Lord Uncle held their lands. He lay looking through the wide windows of the Swan Room, windows visible only from the inside looking out. He did not know how he could have gotten here until the sound of Belyla's weeping suggested it – that and the pain in his arm. She had settled him here half-seated like a rag doll amid the down-filled pillows and fluffy comforters where they had met so often to make love. He breathed in shuddering catches as if his lungs could not entirely work properly. Yahni could not yet find the strength to turn his head and look at her, but he could discern the sound of her rocking chair and the crackle of a fire in the little fireplace – he knew exactly where she was in the room. He crawled the fingers of his other hand across his body to his wounded arm and, as he did, brushed them against his sword belt – she had given him his blades back when she dressed him. Oddly, he felt no comfort in that. They had turned his bride. Their unborn child must have died instantly. His sorrow was a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. Then he clutched convulsively at the wound where he had torn himself trying to dislodge her.
"What have you done to me?" his words emerged in a struggling whisper, his heart, and soul feeling torn and betrayed – more torn than his body. Had she returned simply to feed upon him and, eventually, to kill him in the Passion-Dance in which the undead mistook appetite for love. Belyla had become one of those monsters he was honor bound to destroy ... and yet, he could not see her that way. Struggle as he could, Yahni could not bring himself to see Belyla as a monster.
Belyla came from the rocking chair, clutching a small swan-doll tightly to her chest that he had not seen before as she dropped to her knees by the bed. He turned his head to look at her and the movement was more a limp flopping than a controlled turning.
"Not what they wanted me to. Not all of it," she hastened to add, her eyes desperate, frightened. "They told me to kill my Guildsmon. I'm still hungry ... but I was afraid if I drank anymore you'd die."
He could see that if he took too long to answer, to reassure her she would take it as rejection and that would be a disaster, but he always had trouble sorting things out quickly. Yahni was thorough, not fast. From the way his arm felt, she must have tied the wound up with a bit of her petticoat before dressing him again. "Take it easy. Take it easy. Just talk to me. Then they don't know who I am?"
"No." Belyla chewed her lip intermittently as she spoke, struggling not to cry. "The master turned me several days ago. We were seen together, Yahni, and he was angry... They never saw your face, only your uniform. He raped me. Killed the baby ... killed me."
Yahni closed that out. He thought of the letters in his pocket with their promise of a place to go with her – a sanctuary now denied by what Belyla had become. "You can't turn me, Belyla. I'm godmarked and I have no intention of repudiating it and it cannot be forced. I'd rather die."
"I would never ask that, Yahni. I love you. But I had to make them think... I had to go back, smelling of your blood. If I did not kill you, I was to at least take your mind. I did neither. Your mind is your own." Belyla's eyes filled and she clutched the doll tighter.
"What lineage?"
"Lemyari. The one who stands first is Lemyari."
"Who are they?" Yahni began to feel dizzy again, tired and weak, he closed his eyes and fell back against the pillows.
"I can't tell you. I can't tell you!" Belyla started to become hysterical, but seeing his eyes close, one hand released the doll to clutch at him instead. "Don't die! Don't let me have killed you! I love you, Yahni."
"I love you, Belyla." His voice had gone very soft, as if speaking from a distance and his head rolled back into the depths of the pillows. "If the Guild discovers what you are, they'll destroy you. If your people discover who I am, they will kill me. If you make a kill, Hadjys will part us forever."
Belyla gave a despairing scream and crumpled sobbing. Yahni lay in silence for a long time, too exhausted to do anything else. Finally he found the strength to force words out between breaths again. "Belyla, go to my rooms. Not the Guild rooms. They will not let you in. The apartments I share with Maya. The wardrobe by the windows. In the bottom is a chest with pouches. Bring the pouches. The amphereon should get me on my feet enough to show up for my shift." Developing a dependency on amphereon was an ugly thought, but missing shifts would make Queiggy suspicious. "I believe it might be wise for you to disappear and live here in the swan-room. Where did you find the doll?"
"I've been exploring. There's an abandoned star room on the seventh spindle."
"You've found Alysinjin's gryphon chamber? The swanspire?" Once that would have thrilled him, but now it only deepened his sorrow, which seemed to be all he was capable of feeling.
"Is that what it is? It's bigger on the inside than on the outside."
"Then that's what it is. Now go on. Fetch the pouches."
She rose to go and he called her back. "Wait." He lifted his uninjured arm to her and she came, pressing herself against him. She began to cry and he wept with her.
* * * *
Edouina, Jysy, and Arruth had taken turns sitting with Talons through the night. Bryndel came early in the morning so that they could get breakfast. He closed the intervening door, ostensibly so that the two students sitting in the parlor would not disturb Talons with their talking. He immediately poured a glass of wine and put the medicine in it. Then he supported her while she drank it. Solance – the healer Edouina periodically chased off for his recurring remarks about Sharani sexual and reproductive habits – had prescribed a glass of wine in the morning and evening to both increase her appetite and help her rest. Talons slept more and, yet, appeared less rested for all of it.
"You've got to get better," he told her. "You've got to. I love you."
"I know," Talons said, closed her eyes, and slid back into the warm darkness of sleep.
Bryndel heard some clatter in the outer room and opened the door, sticking his head out. Cass was cleaning – she'd banished the students to the corridor so she could sweep. Bryndel relaxed when he saw her; like everyone else who knew her, Cass made him feel safe and comfortable. He trusted her.
"Do it quietly, she's sleeping," he admonished her gently, trying not to be offensive. Edouina had warned him about it, and Bryndel was trying hard to mend his manners.
"Certainly, Master Bryndel. I've brought fresh blankets and sheets. I'll leave them on the couch and come back later to change them when she's awake."
"Thank you, Cass."
* * * *
Channadar slipped through the palace that night, wearing comfortable old silks, pants and tunic. His fans were tucked in his belt. He found the gryphon lamp, a flower with a gryphon on it. It was the only one like it in this annex to the Northeast Wing. The other lamps lining the wall were formed of simple cloisonné flowers. He turned the lamp and the stairs opened. Channadar smiled at that. He slipped inside and turned the gear that set the lamp back as he had found it, closing the door to the stairs behind him.
The gryphonspire of Alysinjin was his favorite place to be alone. He climbed the stairs quickly and emerged into the muted light of the chamber.
He thought of Leeza. Sweet, dear, spunky Leeza who shared his bed each night. If only he dared reveal the truth about their relationship instead of hiding her beneath Tiderider's arms. But his enemy had sworn to slay his lovers – should he take any – and his children, should he have any. And, her reach was far indeed. She had hired the Dark Assassin who murdered his father and left his body hanging from a sa'necari-style draining pole with his throat severed.
The circular central room of the gryphonspire contained a large bed on one side, and a grouping of chairs and a couch around a table in the middle. Most of the light entered through the skylights, but it also had four large windows. None of t
hat could be seen from the outside. The chambers where the gryphons slept when Alysinjin dwelled in this place appeared only to a magical command that Channadar had not yet been able to discover.
Channadar pulled a cloth from his pocket and spread it before him as he settled cross-legged on the floor. Then he took out a pouch of stones. Each stone bore a symbol in the Fae language. He had decided to do this Reading in a place less shielded than his star room. He invoked the patrons of his people, Willodarus, God the Woodlands, and Davera, God of Earth. Finally he turned to Kalirion, Lord of the Sun, healing and prophecy. Then he threw a handful on the cloth.
"So much death..." he whispered to himself, looking at the runes on the stones, his fingers hovering over first one grouping and then another. "Is that one I? Please don't let any of these be Leeza."
The lord of Hellsguard shivered in a prescient chill.
* * * *
Yahni arrived at the desk and found Jajinga sitting there. Osterbridge lounged on a bench. They both looked surprised to see him.
"We thought you'd be away from here by now, married mon," Jajinga joked seeing Yahni set his small pack beside the desk.
Yahni avoided their eyes. "There are still some matters I have to resolve."
"Such as?" Osterbridge asked.
"I'm not at leave to discuss them..."
"They assigned you?" Osterbridge looked astonished.
Yahni shrugged, and then to confuse matters, gave a tiny nod. He disliked misleading his friends, but he had no idea what his situation with Belyla might entail and he was desperate to protect her. Changed or not, she was still his wife and one true love. He hoped to find a refuge for them both in the records or books from the library. There were too many things to think about. There had to be a way to protect her that would not compromise the lives of others. Or compromise his honor more than it had been when he realized he could not harm her.
"What about your lady wife?" Jajinga asked.
"I've got her well hidden," Yahni said. "Never fear."
"That's a relief," Jajinga said.
* * * *
Bryndel filled his tray from the counter with food and drink and then stood looking about for a place to sit. The student-dining hall was crowded at midday. People from the palace and library were welcome to eat here. Occasionally a noble or three could be found here, dining with their protégés. Bryndel spied a spot at the end of a long table near some students he knew casually. He set his tray down and sat. The students stared at him in silent affront, picked their trays up, and moved. Bryndel's face burned, embarrassment and anger racing through him. He jumped to his feet and followed them.
"Why are you leaving?" he demanded, feeling the snub like a sharp prick of thorns along his neck and arms.
The four students paused, giving him more of their cold, silent stare.
Bryndel faltered. "What did I do?"
Still they said nothing.
"Do you know who I am? I'm Bryndel Wrathscar. My father will get you thrown out of the school."
The students started moving again. Bryndel followed. This time when he caught up with them, he grabbed the nearest one, a girl who looked to be about fifteen.
"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
The girl simply stared at his hand on her shoulder.
"Let her go, Bryndel."
Bryndel spun with a hot look and saw Edouina standing behind him. "Edouina!"
Edouina bent and kissed him: she stood nearly six inches taller than Bryndel. "Forget about them, honey." She looped her arm through his, leading him away.
"I left my tray over there," he said and saw that it was gone. "Why are they doing this?"
Edouina heard the frustrated, hurt catch in his voice. She had discovered early that much of Bryndel's most obnoxious manners and attitude appeared to originate out of raging insecurities. "There are a lot of rumors going around. All of them ugly. Some are about me, but most of them are about you. Especially about how you were treating Talons before I got here."
Bryndel's heart sank. "I guess I'm not hungry."
"Let's go into the city. I know a friendly tavern on the south side with decent fare."
"Who's with Talons?"
"Several good people. You needn't worry about her."
* * * *
Day by day, with every night spent in Belyla's arms, Yahni's strength faded. The crispness left his stride. The brightness dulled from his eyes, until they became leaden. Shadows appeared, and deepened beneath them. His features became drawn. He tried to stay away from everyone who knew him well. But it was not always possible to avoid them entirely.
That day he had gone back to his old rooms to gather a few more of his things and move them to the swan room. He shoved books and the last of his cache of medicinals into a knapsack and slung it over his shoulder. As he started to leave he came face to face with his twin.
Maya's expression went startled and then concerned as she touched her brother's face. "You look so tired, Yahni. There are dark circles under your eyes. Aren't you getting enough sleep?"
Yahni caught her hand, taking it away from him. "As much as I can, Maya. Since the up drawbridge was called, Queiggy's had a lot of work for me and I've taken the nightshift at the desk."
"That's hard."
Yahni nodded and kissed Maya on the cheek. "Yes, it is. I need to go." He left her staring after him, and knew that he would never dare to go back, no matter what he needed. He could not risk another encounter with her. He reached the Great Central Hall, heading for the southeast wing where he would meet Belyla near the entrance to the swan room. A young woman detached herself from her friends and went to him. Yahni's stomach clenched up at the sight of Terrys. This was turning into an evening of unwanted encounters.
Terrys touched his face much as Maya had, tracing the dark circles beneath his eyes. "Yahni? Have you seen a healer?"
"It's just overwork, Terrys," he assured her. "Nothing a few days sleep won't mend."
"I hardly ever see you. It makes me worry."
"I'm very busy." He put her hands aside. "I need to go. We'll talk later."
Yahni found Belyla waiting with a hungry look in her eye. He caught her hand, shivering at the thought of what she would soon be doing to him. He wanted it and feared it. The taste of ecstasy that went beyond sex ... he rarely had the energy for sex any more, which disappointed Belyla. He opened the secret panel and they fled upstairs to their sanctuary. Belyla undressed him as they climbed. She stroked his body fondly, running her fingers along the scars she had left in her feedings while carefully avoiding the tendriled godmark on his chest. The godmark burned her fingers whenever she accidentally touched it. Yahni stumbled on the last step and almost fell. Belyla caught him, half carrying him to the bed. She removed the rest of his clothes, his blades, and stared at his nakedness. She teased his cock, which failed to react.
"I'm too tired, Belyla," Yahni apologized.
"At least you're here. We're together."
"I love you, Belyla. Always and forever."
"And I you, Yahni." She bit the large vein crossing his chest. It was an awkward place, but his limbs had become so heavily scarred it worried her. She feared to take from his neck, remembering the shared ecstasy of Galee's feeding that first night.
Yahni moaned softly, writhing beneath her as she fed. He had begun to want it, even knowing that it was his death coming for him – that was why they called it the Dance of Passion. Although Belyla did not intend it to, her own intense pleasure as she fed flooded into Yahni, causing him to crave both the pain and the ecstasy. His hands pressed her face more deeply into his body, and he held her until consciousness fled.
* * * *
"Why should Sharani have all the pie? There are large sections of Waejontor they have never laid claim to, never moved into. Easy pickings," Wrathscar said, his voice rising. He sat at a table with three nobles, jabbing his finger into the wood.
Derryl, Leslie, and Maya happened to be passing through
the West Hall and Derryl immediately veered aside with an impish grin and headed for Wrathscar's table. His ladies followed.
"No reason we should be confined to the boundaries originally set," Lord Naren said. He was a thin mon, angular and light complexioned.
"Except that Hadjys set those boundaries," Derryl said, smiling as he leaned over Lord Lemyk's shoulder, intruding mischievously. "He never told us to go out and conquer, now did he?"
"No one invited you into this conversation," Naren growled.
"Oh, am I being rude?" Derryl asked, pouting, moving to rest on his elbows so that he was stretched between them down the middle of the long table with his chin propped on his knuckles.
Leslie nodded at Maya to follow her example, seized her husband by the hem of his tunic and his belt. Then his wife and his mistress hauled him off the table.
Derryl gave the irritated lords a bright wave and waltzed off.
"Is he always like this?" Maya whispered to Leslie.
"Always. Derryl wanted to be Guild, but when his brothers perished he ended up with the titles and lands instead, so he's settled for being the outrageous voice of conscience, getting into fights and brawls as a kind of game. You'll learn to enjoy it."
As they left the hall they passed Lord Westli, Commander of the Guard, with Philomea on his arm. The mon looked tired, but happy. Philomea beamed at everyone.
Maya fell silent as they walked. She spent most of her time living in Derryl's apartments with he and Leslie. So that was where they went. By the time they reached them, Maya's silence had become noticeable to all of them. She settled on a chair, looking at her hands.
"What's wrong?" Leslie asked. "Our little fun back there didn't offend you? It never has before."
Maya shook her head, her mouth opening slightly as she reached for words that did not want to come. "It's my brother. I finally saw him again after all these weeks and ... and he looks sick. But he says he isn't."
Derryl tensed, spun on his heels, and dragged a chair close to her. "Describe it." When she finished, Derryl shot a sharp look at Leslie. "The vampire is back. It isn't just rumor. I must see Yahni for myself before I act. Confirm it with my own eyes."