The Temple of Ardyn (Song of the Swords Book 2)

by Tameri Etherton

  Snappy retorts bubbled to her lips and she bit them against her tongue. “No, my love. I had a nightmare, nothing new.” Her wistful smile did not diminish the worry in his eyes. “Tomorrow is a big day. You need your rest.” Her fingertips trailed along his as he turned away from the bed. The sound of his footsteps shuffling against the wood floor echoed his retreat.

  When the others left her rooms, she curled tight against herself and sobbed into her pillow, muffling the sound. Taryn feared her nightmare had become real. That Marissa had stolen Rhoane’s soul so completely there was nothing left of the man she loved.

  The next morning, Taryn shivered beside the lake, naked except for her unbound hair and a tiny circlet Carga had placed upon her head. The purification ceremony was performed at sunrise, when the last of the night’s stars were making their descent below the horizon to the west. Rhoane flinched when she reached for his hand, but did not pull away. Carga stood with Verdaine, Nadra, and Ohlin chanting the ancient words of absolution. A haze of discordant voices and sounds joined the chanting and Taryn tapped her foot, impatient for the ceremony to be complete, for Rhoane to be healed. The chanting continued; the tapping became more pronounced. Oil and then ash was poured over their heads in a greasy, sticky mess that Taryn endured. She would endure anything for Rhoane. If only they could hurry the ceremony along.

  Carga’s gentle voice said, “Open yourself, Taryn. Allow their healing into your soul, your spirit, your body.” This irritated Taryn. Rhoane needed healing, not her.

  The icy water of the lake numbed her legs and then her torso as she stepped farther and farther into its depths until she was totally submerged. She waited beneath the surface with Rhoane, their hair floating around them in a tangled mass of silver and brown. He kept his gaze rooted to her, a look of concern on his pale face. As he stood with her in their watery purgation, she hoped with every fiber of her being he would recover. A slow shimmering started in her solar plexus, then spread through her body into Rhoane’s, illuminating the water around them. Rhoane’s eyes grew wide and she shook her head by way of saying she didn’t know what was happening.

  A loud cacophony sounded in her mind—ancient generations of Eleri adding their voice and power to the ceremony. Their ShantiMari pierced and pinched every inch of her body. The song Carga chanted rose in cadence and the ancients joined their sister in joyful harmony. Visions dating to the making of Aelinae danced through her mind.

  The Eleri were a people of many planets, not just this one. The revelation shocked Taryn.

  Her stomach cramped violently and she doubled over in pain. Rhoane tightened his grip on her, a look of panic creasing his features. The urge to vomit overwhelmed her, but she refused to open her mouth to the freezing water for fear Rykoto would drown her again.

  The black stain Rykoto said Kaldaar had given her throbbed, threatening to constrict her heart. She fought against it, writhing in the depths of the lake. Fear settled in Rhoane’s eyes and he motioned for them to rise to the surface, but she shook her head.

  Nadra’s voice whispered in her mind.Daughter of Aelinae, do not fight against the Blackness in your heart. Embrace it. Become one with that power as you do the trinity. You will not be whole without it. Settle your mind and hear the voice of your people. Let them heal that which is broken inside you.

  Taryn frowned, not understanding. Rhoane was broken, not her.

  She and Rhoane opened their minds to the ancients. Their thoughts were as one with all Eleri. She witnessed his entire life. From his birth and Verdaine’s prophecy to what brought them there that day. Again she experienced his fury at Marissa for stealing his purity. The sheer amount of ire he kept suppressed washed over her. The hell he’d been through since Gaarendahl and torment of every moment devastated her all over again. She shared in his shame, as did all the Eleri. They did not recoil from Rhoane’s brutality, but took his anguish into their hearts to cleanse him of his taint. To heal what was broken.

  When Rhoane finished, she shared her past with the Eleri. They saw the small flat above the pub where she and Brandt lived for many years, all the places they hid until they could return to Aelinae, her first faltering steps in the cavern when she was bewildered and amazed there was such a thing as another world. She shared her doubts and fears about who Lliandra said she was. Finally, she understood what Nadra meant. She existed in a schism of beliefs, clinging to the girl who was unimportant on Earth, not trusting her importance to Aelinae.

  How long they stayed submerged, she didn’t know. When she had nothing left to give, Rhoane whispered,It is time, and they emerged from the water to stand before her people. In their faces, she saw compassion, not condemnation as she’d expected.

  Rhoane. Her sweet Rhoane.

  His face, above all, stayed in her mind as she opened herself and accepted she was theDarennsai. She was not just Taryn, but the Eirielle, the Child of Light and Dark. Thegyota of Verdaine’s prophecy. And she knew what all of it meant. She was not afraid. She allowed herself to finally believe.

  The voices and the chanting stopped.

  All of the world stalled for one solitary moment. Then came a long sigh, as if the universe welcomed her. She reached for the heavens and sought Brandt in the clouds. She cried out to him that she understood.

  Everything he’d ever taught her, she knew. Kaida wailed in the distance and she howled with her friend. They were one, the grierbas and Taryn. Far away, beyond the wall, there was a great flapping of wings Taryn found very curious. She nodded to Aislinn, understanding that now was not the time. She missed the Eleri queen so very much.

  Someone held her. Warm, strong, loving arms rocked her. She looked up into the face of Verdaine. Her tricolored eyes were full of laughter and mirth. The colors of a fall leaf—golden and auburn with touches of green—swirled together as her long hair danced on the breeze.

  “Welcome, my daughter. Long have I waited for you,” Verdaine said in a voice like the rustling of trees on a windy summer’s day.

  “And I you,” Taryn said, reaching up to stroke her face. “You are so beautiful.”

  “As are you, my daughter.”

  Weightless, Taryn’s body sunk into the goddess. Before she fell asleep, she murmured against Verdaine’s neck, “Please help Rhoane. He needs you more than I right now.” And her world went dark.

  Chapter 27

  THE crown princess paced her room, throwing items at random, and spewing curses that would make a pirate blush. Her agitation upset Valterys in ways he didn’t like to dwell upon. Since learning of her pregnancy, his opinion of her had altered, and a protectiveness swelled inside his intentionally cold heart. He waited until the tirade abated before stepping into her bedchamber, startling her.

  “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be tending to Rykoto or torturing someone? You’re as sick as your son, do you know that?” Her hand fluttered over her belly and tears glistened in her eyes. “He refused me. Me! After what I did for him, he refuses to bed me.” She broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, her hands covering her face.

  Valterys took her in his arms, comforting her. “Shhh, you don’t want to upset the baby. It’s okay, dear one. Tell me what happened.”

  Through choked sobs she told him of the events at Gaarendahl, from Zakael’s tedious games to seduce Taryn, which the stupid girl had refused to play, to her rape of Rhoane.

  “It was his idea, the cunning bastard. Now he says I’m tainted like the Eleri and won’t touch me.”

  Valterys filled in the missing information with what he knew of his son. Most likely, Zakael was looking for a reason to dismiss Marissa and concocted the scheme for exactly that reason. Being with child, he couldn’t abuse her as he’d like, which meant she had no value to him. He’d raised his son to be cruel, but in his refusal to bed Marissa, he was showing kindness. Unfortunately, the princess would never see it that way.

  “I’ll speak to Zakael. I’m certain this is just a misunderstanding.” Surely there was a way Zakael cou
ld satisfy her needs without endangering the baby. Thinking of Marissa’s needs made his groin grow warm, his desire to heighten.

  Marissa fluttered her eyelashes. “My lord?” Her heavy breaths pressed her bosom against his chest and he drew in a shaky breath.

  “You know I can’t. Rykoto would kill us both.” His words lacked conviction. Most likely Rykoto would care piss-all if he bedded Marissa. At least, that’s what his traitorous mind told him, and he desperately wanted to believe the lie.

  “Please.”

  The whispered word dissolved the last of his reserve. He took her mouth with his, savagely claiming her. He tasted blood where he’d cut her lips, but continued raking his tongue against hers.

  She tore at his shirt, loosening it and pulling it over his head, breaking their connection. Before he could stop her, she had his breeches unfastened and around his ankles, her hot little mouth on his swollen member. He moaned and grasped a handful of her hair.Rykoto must never know. The thought dampened his lust, but Marissa stoked his flames until Rykoto was nothing more than an irritation he’d deal with later. Much later.

  He knew what Marissa craved, had always known, and provided just the right amount of pain. She needed a man like him. Someone who gave her exactly what she needed and yet treated her with respect. Zakael was young, but he was also impetuous and headstrong. He didn’t know how to treat a woman of Marissa’s stature. Didn’t know how to treat a woman of any stature, truth be told. Zakael used men and women as playthings, nothing more. He took from them what he could, then discarded them like dolls from an errant child.

  Zakael was a fool for throwing aside the crown princess and Valterys knew exactly how to take her mind off the heartbreak his son had caused. Her moans and cries echoed through the room each time he touched her sensitive breasts or placed his mouth over her delicious mound.

  Her squirms and pants excited him further until he couldn’t contain his desire and pounded into her, releasing his charge to her shuddering cries. Afterward, he lay beside her, languidly stroking her creamy skin, wondering why he’d denied them this pleasure for so long. Marissa slipped a hand over his cock and rubbed until he grew hard again.

  “More?” Valterys asked, surprised he’d not satisfied her.

  “Much more.” She stretched a leg over him and straddled his erection. And for the next week, that’s what he gave her.

  Her appetite was not easily satiated, but Valterys did his best, finding new ways to entertain them or playing with some of Marissa’s more exotic toys. Several times she allowed one of her maids to join in, a buxom lass with burnished curls and skin to match. Valterys might’ve stayed in Talaith for the rest of his days, but Marissa had let slip the Shadow Assassin had been imprisoned in Celyn Eryri.

  With a kiss to Marissa’s sleeping form, Valterys slipped from her room and transformed into a levon. He took flight from her balcony, heading toward the northwest. If Lliandra had the assassin in chains, Valterys needed to see the man for himself.

  Needed to know Zakael was not controlling the demon.

  The castle stood as it had all those long seasons ago when he was the Lord of the Court and competed in the games. He shook the thought from his mind. It would do no good remembering. Sadness clung to him like an unwanted tether. There was too much of his life he’d relegated to the far reaches of his memories.

  He perched atop a steeple, observing the comings and goings of the court. The games had ended nearly a moonturn earlier, but Lliandra stayed on at the castle until just before Frost End. It’s what had always happened, and far be it for the empress to alter tradition.

  His beak clicked with his smile. After checking the position of the sun, he surmised at that very moment Lliandra would be in her rooms, resting. Which meant she was being thoroughly pleasured by one of her young studs. He idly wondered which of the victors had caught her attention at this season’s competitions. Even when Valterys was her lover, Lliandra had invited the winners to her bedchamber. It was all he could do to tolerate that part of the Light Celebrations, but there had been many opportunities for him to fulfill his desires as well.

  The levon’s beady, black eyes drifted toward the dungeons and a heady warmth spread through the bird’s chest. He knew those dungeons well and could guess at which cell they kept the prisoner. There would be time for that later. He lifted off the iron bar and coasted toward Lliandra’s rooms. The heavy glass windows were sealed shut, but he landed on an empty planter box outside the one that gave the best view.

  As expected, the empress writhed on the bed with a man a tenth her age, if that. Her golden hair fanned around her, creating a halo for her angelic features. Everything about Lliandra was staged for maximum effect and he was certain she kept herself from moving too much and mussing her glorious tresses. The man, or boy rather, pumping furiously into her seemed to care little what the empress looked like. His focus was on her breasts, his breath coming in great gasps.

  Lliandra was making him wait for her.How cute. She’d tried that with Valterys on several occasions, but he’d taught her the folly of her ways, denying her a release until she begged him. The levon ruffled its feathers at Valterys’s memory. Since sampling Marissa’s banquet of lust, his opinion of the empress had shifted. He no longer craved the satisfaction only she could give. Marissa had released him from his torment, had mended his shattered heart.

  Valterys cursed and the levon pecked at the window with its hardened beak. Lliandra ignored the sound, but the young man turned his head. For an instant, his eyes met the levon’s and Valterys saw the sheer desperation etched into his features. His rhythm slowed as he returned his gaze to Lliandra. She said something that made him freeze mid-stroke and then pump harder than before.

  Unwilling to witness the stud’s destruction, Valterys dove from the planter box to glide around the castle, aiming the levon for a window in the dungeon tower. It was little more than an arrow slit, but he tilted smoothly through the tight space. His claws scratched at the rock floor and he transformed into his manly form.

  The image of the youth seared into his mind and anger welled inside his heart. Lliandra must be desperate to conceive another child. He’d heard the rumors at her court and seen it reflected in the stud’s fear. He wondered how many she’d killed because they couldn’t produce an heir. And she called him a monster.

  Concealed in shadows, he took the stairs slowly, stopping often to listen for soldiers, but the dungeons were silent. When he reached the bottom floor, where he guessed they kept the Shadow Assassin, he crept along the wall, not wanting to stir the air. They would have him bound with ShantiMari and too much of the power would hamper his ability to maintain invisibility.

  Voices from ahead echoed off the walls and he paused in his steps. The conversation was benign: two soldiers discussing the changing of their shift, expecting to be relieved any moment. One was impatient to be off-duty as he had a girl waiting for him. Valterys smirked beneath his shadows. Women could rule the world if they just figured out how much men were under their control.

  Certainly Marissa had subtly manipulated him into doing what she wanted. But he never did anything that he truly didn’t want to do. Perhaps that was her power. Knowing what it was men wanted, and then granting them their wish. His desire stirred and he forced his mind away from Marissa. The constant image of her, naked and calling his name, was dangerous. If he didn’t block his thoughts, surely Rykoto would pick out the memory as if it were a ripe sargot.

  The night guard arrived and after several minutes of jovial teasing, the day guard left the dungeons. Valterys edged closer to the cells, staying as close to the wall as possible. Six guardsmen surrounded the assassin, with another two patrolling the area outside the cell. When he was close enough to see the Shadow Assassin, but not disturb the patrol, he stopped to study the man’s features.

  Blond, dirty, thin, he hung from several shackles of ShantiMari. His black clothes, ripped in more than one place, were covered in dust. A dark spot on
his left shoulder caught Valterys’s attention. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was blood, but Shadow Spawn couldn’t bleed. Neither alive nor dead, they had no need of bodily functions.

  A scuffle just outside the doorway leading to the dungeon steps Valterys had come down drew the attention of the guard. Valterys stepped farther into the shadows, never taking his eyes from the assassin.

  A muffled shout, followed by a heavy thud, caused two of the guard to falter in their positions. “Stand,” another commanded. “Our charge is to guard the prisoner.” The soldiers returned to their positions, their hands grasping swords and maces.

  Another thump and they stirred once more, but none of them moved from their space.

  The door banged shut and heavy footfalls sounded on the floor. The guard murmured amongst themselves, asking one another what action they should take. A hooded figure entered the area and with raised hands, knocked out each guard in succession.

  Valterys drew in a deep breath. That much power was rarely seen.

  The stranger unlocked the cell with a snap of his fingers and set about untying the many strands of ShantiMari that held the prisoner. For nearly a bell, the hooded figure worked in silence. The assassin sagged against him when the last of the shackles were unlocked.

  Valterys pressed flat to the wall, willing himself to become one with the hard surface. A cold breeze brushed past as the hooded figure darted up the corridor with the assassin over his shoulder. Ice-blue eyes glanced up and met Valterys’s gaze, looking right into his soul. The Lord of the Dark suppressed a shudder, but didn’t look away.

  The assassin dropped his head, his blond hair flowing down the stranger’s cloak.

  Valterys counted to one hundred before following. He took the stairs two at a time, struggling to keep his shadows intact while rushing to the top of the tower. At the door leading to the battlements, he paused. He’d have to open the door. Not knowing what awaited him caused a tremor of anxiety to ripple through him.