Love is My Sin: Oathcursed, Book 2

by Julia Knight

  Nerinna stared at him, wondering whether she dared. He didn’t seem quite so scary now, with a worried frown and fidgeting with his glass. But still, smoke rose from the skin on his hand and she found herself stammering as she told him, about Valguard, and Aran, and Hunter. “And Hilde thinks it’s Valguard who’s tainted, that Mithotyn has used him to fool Oku somehow. The man who brought me here said I should tell you.”

  “Damn me to the Dark as an idiot,” he said when she’d finished. More smoke fell from his lips when he spoke and Nerinna shrank back. Please Kyr, let me keep my eyes! “You saw Hilde? Where was she? Is she all right? And who brought you here?”

  “Please, I didn’t mean any harm, please! I swear, I didn’t mean any of it to happen. I just—I just wanted what was best for the Reethan. My father said—I didn’t know that I’d care for him. I didn’t know I’d care for any of them, they were all so…odd, so ugly. So different to us. You’re Reethan, aren’t you? You know how strange the Gan are.”

  Ilfayne nodded slowly and looked round. “I wish they hadn’t given us this room. It was Brimeld’s, you know.”

  What in the gods’ names did that have to do with anything? Maybe he was drunker than he looked. “Who?”

  “Brimeld. He was duke here, a long, long time ago. Made the mistake of falling in love with a kyrbodan, one already betrothed to someone else. One reason the kyrbodan and men hate each other so much. But he’d made a promise to her, so he had to keep it. Just like all the Gan. Stupid buggers. He used to sit at that window and wait for her to ride home. That’s what he said every time I went to see him. She’s out riding, she’ll be back soon. She always did love to ride…”

  “And did she? Come back I mean?”

  Ilfayne shut his eyes and looked away. Almost as though he felt guilty. “No. And all because of the Gan and their stupid bloody oaths, and because I did nothing.”

  Nerinna shivered. What an awful story. “And if you do nothing to help Hunter—”

  Ilfayne sat up with a start and seemed to realise she was there again. “Why should I? This isn’t the same. Not the same at all! Hunter’s tainted, don’t you understand?”

  “Don’t you care what happens to him?” How could he think so little of a man who she had thought was his friend?

  Ilfayne stared down at his hand and grimaced. “Maybe. Maybe I did care, because Hilde did. Because I know he’d do anything to keep her safe. Because he’s a good man. But they all die, in the end.”

  He flopped back into his chair, his anger seemingly spent for now. Smoke coiled round his hand but he seemed not to notice. “In a way, I’m what the Reethan were, when we were a great people. When we had an empire, when everyone looked to us for enlightenment, for succour, for—” He stuttered to a halt, genuine anguish on his face. “Different, maybe, different values, different ways, good, bad, everything in between. But the Gan are people just like us.” He opened his mouth to say something else and a gout of smoke fell out, a tongue of flame in the centre.

  Nerinna leapt back, knocking her chair over. She shook on her knees before the hearth. “Please, I’m sorry, oh please let me keep my eyes. I swear, whatever you ask.”

  He frowned at her as though he didn’t understand what she meant. Then he seemed to see the smoke that roiled from his fingers, from his sleeve, his nose, his lips. It flowed from him like water. He cursed and she would have sworn he went white under his olive skin. Tiny tongues of flame licked at his fingers and caressed his arm, ran up the bangles and made them glitter and shine. As they watched, more smoke trickled from his sleeve. “I didn’t, I swear, Hilde, I didn’t, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t. Oh, Herjan’s bloody arse!”

  “What? What is it?”

  His face screwed up in concentration and he muttered a few words. The flames died back but smoke still fell from his fingers in waves. The smell of singed flesh stung Nerinna’s nose. “I can’t stop it. I can’t bloody stop it!”

  Nerinna didn’t know what to think, to do, so she reacted from her gut. She put a hand on his arm to try and help him and pulled it back with a hiss of pain. Even through his shirt his skin had singed her. He was burning up. Literally.

  He opened his mouth to speak and flames fell from his lips, curled at his beard in a stench of burning hair and dropped to his waistcoat, where they danced and flashed among his trinkets. His eyes went very wide, so wide she could see the whites around the dark irises.

  Nerinna rummaged around and came up with a large bowl. She poured in all the water from the ewer and sat next to Ilfayne. He sank his hand in with a hiss of steam and a grimace of pain.

  Ilfayne took short, sharp breaths and tried to talk past the flames. “Like the other mage, the one at the trial. Poisoned.” He sank back in his chair. “Kyrbodan blood. Bastard’s poisoned me!”

  ***

  Hilde opened her eyes and fought back the nausea that threatened to bring up whatever was in her stomach. Everything inside her seemed to be burning. Was she dead? She must be, because she was staring up at Regin. A young Regin. He’d never been young, but here he was, big and bluff, vital and young. Dead. Must be.

  She struggled upright and Regin helped her with a hand behind her back and gave her a glass of wine. She tried to drink it but the smell turned her stomach and she put it back down hurriedly. When she looked round she was puzzled to see Sannir and a group of other men standing at a respectful distance. Still in the inn. Still in Mimirin. For a moment she thought two people stood behind them. A crone so old she looked dead and an old man in a battered hat that shaded his eyes. She blinked and they were gone.

  She tried to stand up but swayed so violently that Regin had to grab her arm. One of the younger men made the sign of Kyr’s Ward at her and Sannir cuffed him round the ear. “Don’t be stupid. She’s a friend of Hunter’s. If she’s good enough for him, she’s good enough for the likes of you.”

  The man blushed and mumbled an apology but she wasn’t listening. She could barely see anything but Regin. How in the gods’ names could he be here? He was dead; she’d seen him die herself. Then it dawned on her. Gods who were once men, as Oku had once been a man.

  She sagged back into a chair and Regin bent close so he could speak without being overheard. “I didn’t want this, Hilde.”

  She couldn’t speak. Her skin flashed hot and cold and the burning in her gut grew, a rat that gnawed at her insides till she was breathless with it. Regin turned and waved away the men that crowded round. Finally, after Sannir shooed off the last few of the curious, they could speak in private.

  “I don’t understand. How…”

  He smiled his rare smile at her. “Not what Valguard says. Or not entirely. It wasn’t Hunter. He made the usual reverences, no more than for, say, a father. But it was the tale, Hilde. Ilfayne asked him to keep you out of it, and Hunter was more than happy to agree. Valguard would’ve had your head given any excuse. To have you be publicly acknowledged as the one who killed the sorcerer—he couldn’t allow that to be told. Not a murderess and kyrbodan to boot. So Hunter had the bards say it was me. No one else knew the tale. No one else was there. So it grew. And now it’s too big. I didn’t want this, I wanted only peace and to see my Bera again. But I have to do what I can. I can’t interfere much, not directly, not against men. And I’m not as strong as the other gods. If what I suspect is true… But I don’t know it yet and I can’t warn you in dreams like Kyr. None of us has much power here, not in Oku’s country.”

  “And Ilfayne won’t help,” she said, misery for it a cold clenching of her skin.

  Regin laid his hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Kyr isn’t the only one who can send dreams, you know, and Ilfayne’s been dreaming a lot just lately, hasn’t he?”

  She stared at him and nodded dumbly. Dreaming of his wife. So who had—

  “You know why he can’t help, because he daren’t go against Oku. Dare not. And he cannot care, I told you once before. Men’s lives are no more than a heartbeat to him. If a friend died every day,
wouldn’t you soon learn not to care, so as not to hurt? It may happen to you too, given time.”

  She shook her head and her hair stuck to her tears. “No, no it won’t.”

  “Yes, Hilde. It may, and I’ll be sorry to see it happen. But when Hunter dies, tomorrow or in his bed an old man, then you’ll think on it. Think how much easier it would be for you not to love people who’ll only die while you live on. And next time maybe you’ll shield yourself, as he does. Tell yourself you don’t care. Maybe, maybe Ilfayne does care what happens to Hunter. Maybe he’s learnt that much from you. But not so much that he’s willing to risk your life on it. Not for a man who’ll be dead soon enough, to his eyes. Do you know he’s only prayed once since he took his oath? Only once, to me. He asked me to make sure he didn’t lose you. That is all he can care for. And while he might have helped because you wanted him to, he can’t if it means losing you. I’m going to try very hard to grant his prayer, Hilde. But you have to help. And it may be too late anyhow.”

  Only once and it was for her. Not for Devanna, or anyone else. But in the square… She bit her lips. “Too late?”

  His face took on a gaunt look and he appeared older again, as she’d always known him. “You’re poisoned, Hilde, you and Ilfayne both.”

  “Poisoned? Don’t be ridic—” The odd blurred quality to Ilfayne’s eyes, the smoke that had dripped from him with the sweat. The way he had barely seen her and had so readily accepted the Disciple’s words. Raising his flaming hand to her neck. But he hadn’t done it. She clung to that; he hadn’t. Couldn’t? But all things she would never have thought he would have done. Not in his right mind. She could only think of one person who might have poisoned them both. “Valguard.”

  “Yes, Valguard. In the wine when you called Oku. Kyrbodan blood to poison Ilfayne, mage’s blood to poison you.”

  “Then Mithotyn’s got them both? Even Oku? Wait, I didn’t drink—”

  Regin shook his head. “I can’t say what I would, Hilde. I can’t be what I was. I can only be what I am.”

  A young warrior burst through the door and ran up to Regin. “Disciples coming. Lots of them. Valguard too.”

  Regin stood up. “Get everyone out front, now.” The young man leapt away and Regin turned back to Hilde. “You’re in no fit state to help.”

  Hilde scowled at him and pulled herself up. “Never stopped me before, has it?”

  “No, I suppose not.” Regin laughed and led the way out.

  “So what are you going to do? You said you couldn’t interfere directly—”

  “I’m in a mortal form, so I’m going to stretch the rules a little. And I’ll be damned if Valguard is going to get these men. They’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Hilde stared into the street, her eyes better in the dark than a human’s. A solid mass of men approached, Valguard at their head. His smile sent a shiver of fear through her. So smug, so confident. She hefted her mace and took no comfort from its weight.

  “Ah, I thought we’d find you here, my dear. Feeling quite well? No, I didn’t think so. Don’t worry. It’s quite painful, but it’ll be over before long. Oh, and Regin. Really, you should know better.”

  Several men behind Hilde exclaimed in astonishment, and a low murmur ran through them, a surge of excitement that fizzed in her blood and gave her courage. Courage she badly needed right now.

  “What is it you want, Valguard?” Regin asked.

  “Oh, it’s not what I want. It’s what the gods want. One in particular. This worship of you has Mithotyn’s ugly hand behind it, and I will stamp it out.” His smile racked up a notch.

  Hilde held on to the wall, a sick certainty flooding through her. Ilfayne was dead or as close as made no odds, and so was she, whether she was poisoned or not. His death would be her own, the grief would kill her, would drain the strength from the kyrbodan blood in her veins. Valguard was Oku’s new pet.

  Every bone in her body seemed made of lead; every thimbleful of blood was fire. She couldn’t let it happen. Couldn’t let him have to live in limbo, always, forever and that the best alternative. Couldn’t let him face his biggest fear: to be alone, even if it would be only for the short time it would take her to die. But she stood against a god’s mad servant, the fooled god who held her soul, both their souls, in his grasping outstretched hand.

  She stood up straighter. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered, except that she knew in her heart that Valguard was wrong, had lied. Had deceived Ilfayne into this, into death. Valguard who had somehow fooled a god in his jealousy. Whether Mithotyn was behind it or not didn’t matter. It only mattered that Ilfayne was dying.

  Valguard nodded at his Disciples and they rushed Regin. Hilde pushed herself away from the wall to help him, stumbled as a dizzy wave hit her and was only saved from hitting the flagstones by a hand on her arm. Valguard.

  “And you. He always knows where his servants are, especially those who disobey him, and he knew you would. You know the price of disobedience. Ilfayne tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen. Stupid girl. So you’ll hang on the same gibbet as that miscreant Hunter. A lesson to any others who might think to disobey Oku’s word and law.”

  Hilde’s heart quailed and her blood turned to ice-water but she gathered her wits and courage. “It’s you who Mithotyn tainted, no other.”

  Valguard grinned at her, an awful rictus that put her in mind of Mithotyn’s servants and their hunger for blood. Her legs seemed to have no bones in them. She looked to Regin for help but he was buried under a landslide of Disciples.

  “He can’t help you. The upstart,” Valguard said.

  Her breath was sharp little gasps of fear. Not for her, for Ilfayne. The hated tears came and slid a hot course down her cheeks. “Why? Why would you kill Ilfayne?”

  “Why? Because I’m Prime Servant, not that swaggering braggart! I serve Oku better than he ever could.”

  Jealous of Ilfayne—gods, she’d never thought she would see the day that would happen. “And do you think Oku will be pleased you’ve killed us both?”

  “Who do you think told me to do it? Who had me poison Hunter’s duria, so that it might abate the pain in an old wound for a time, but only make it ten times worse when it wore off? Who do you think planned all this? He’ll not let you defy him. Did you think he wouldn’t know what you’re trying to do?”

  Oku told him to. Oku, who had taken Ilfayne’s and her lives. Taken them and wrung them in his fists. He was the focus of her hate; for what he had done to Ilfayne for so long. “I don’t care whether he knows or not, but Ilfayne’s done nothing to deserve it. He’s followed the letter of his oath.”

  “This time. But Oku tires of servants who always try and baulk his will. He will allow Ilfayne to live. At least until he’s watched you die.” Valguard gripped her arm and spun her round. His voice was a soft hiss in her ear. “His authority has been questioned far too much of late. But that will end once you and Hunter are dead. Come along. Your trial will take only moments. A charge of murder, five years old. Ilfayne cannot stop me now. And then maybe you’d care to share a cell with Hunter? You can make your peace with Oku together, in the hope that Kyr might show mercy when she chooses your fate.”

  Poisoned

  “A healer, I should fetch a healer,” Nerinna said.

  “Healer’s no bloody good.” Ilfayne burped and looked rather shamefaced at the lick of flame that fell from his lips.

  He slid down the chair that propped him up and smoke ran from his mouth, wreathed him in loose, malevolent coils. His eyes were glazed and distant, as though he were delirious. There was no more water at hand to douse him. She reached for the wine and trickled some into his mouth. It hissed faintly as it touched the scorching skin inside. She poured more in until he coughed and choked and sat up. “Better. Little bit.”

  No matter what he did, how many spells he tried to cast and calm the fire in him, he was burning, slowly, slowly but surely. The heat bathed her face even from here, his breath crackled in h
is lungs and he became less coherent every minute as he slipped in and out of delirium.

  “There must be something we can do?” He might be a mage but was almost the only person who could help her, help Hunter. For that she needed him alive.

  “Not a bloody thing,” he said and laughed drunkenly. “Kyrbodan blood. Poisonous. Ver’, ver’ poisonous when you’ve magic in you. Don’t mix, you see? Makes the magic eat you up. Eat you all up.”

  “But Hilde’s a—”

  “Shhhh!” He flapped his hand at her and the heat fell from him in waves. “Mithotyn tried it, long time ago. Bred wizards and kyrbodans. Poor bastard children, all dead before they were ten. Eaten up by magic, burned up. Mithotyn had to weaken the magic before he could use the babes to make his servants. No, magic and kyrbodan blood in one body, not a good mix.”

  Nerinna didn’t understand the half of what he said, but one thought struck her. “But you and Hilde?”

  He shut his eyes and sighed. “Not married, if that’s what you’re asking. That would mean swearing in front of him. Never doing that again, no, no, no, neither of us. But better than married. Just together. The light on the dark side of me.”

  “But what about, well, children? They’d have a mix of magic and her blood surely? Don’t you…” She hesitated, unsure whether he would be offended.

  Ilfayne blinked heavily and tried what might have been a leer, but came out as a scowl. “Lots! Made sure no children though. Shh. Can’t tell Hilde. I’m sorcerer see. Worse’n wizard. More magic. They wouldn’t even live to be born, burn right up inside her. Poof! Kill her. If I told her, she’d want to try anyway. Wants a family, see, stubborn little minx.” He smiled fondly. “Can’t have that. Got to keep her safe. Always got to keep her safe. Promised. So I put stuff in her wine. No more children. Shame. I liked being a father.” He sighed deeply and his face was almost obscured by smoke. “Left me now though, so suppose it doesn’t matter.”