Shutters were closed and prayers were said, begging God to protect them from the superstition that the banshee's call meant death was near. Consumed by insane fits of jealousy and rage, and obsessed with revenge, Dougal decided to make his move and put a final end to Celine's adultery and dishonor. He crept around in the frosted darkness and poisoned chickens with contaminated grain, and waited until morning for the people to see what had occurred. It took little to rouse the crowd to panic as they faced a winter of near starvation, and they embraced Dougal's claims that the sin-filled witch must have stolen the lives of the poultry after losing her lover. Incited by the local priest and his recitation of the plagues used to punish sinners, a horde of townspeople rallied together to put an end to the assumed curse upon their village.
Shannon's ear-piercing wails were smothered by Dougal's rough hand as their tiny hut burned to the ground, with her mother trapped inside. She broke free and turned to the crowd, her red hair lifting off her shoulders as the icy wind began to swirl around her small body. She lifted her hands and unhinged her jaw, instinct guiding her as she called upon the powers of nature. Standing with her back to the blazing fire, under the beam of a full moon, she unleashed her full power. Agonizing screams of villagers spontaneously erupting in dancing flames suddenly surrounded her, and she turned her rage upon the terrified Dougal. He clutched his head and staggered to the ground as his body began to boil from the inside. His scream was garbled by blood rising in his throat, cutting off his air, until he finally collapsed in a shuddering heap upon the frozen ground. A fine flurry of snowflakes began to fall upon the charred remains of the village and the hut, and the air was dense with the scent of burning wood and flesh.
The frightened girl realized that she was now truly and absolutely alone, without even her adopted father to care for her. She ran blindly towards the only refuge she knew—the swamp. Shivering with cold, her stomach gnawing with hunger, the child sank against the wet ground and sobbed uncontrollably, numb to the distant sounds of pitiful screams as bodies were discovered by those who had not been entrapped by Dougal's lies.
Days passed, and the weather grew increasingly frigid. The little child fed on old, withered berries and dried herbs that she gathered, and drank from dirty plates of ice that covered the soggy soil. The sparse heat from her small, furry companions failed to warm her, and Shannon began to dream that fairies had come to lead her back to her mother's loving arms. Exhausted, afraid and ravished by the cold dampness around her, she relinquished her survival to the hands of the spirits of the swamp. The sense of cold disappeared, and she began to drift into the sweet, mindless sleep of death.
How she had survived was still a mystery, Shannon thought. She gazed around the room in which she presently stood. It was here that she had been awakened by an elderly woman who had lovingly touched Shannon's face, and spoken in a language that she did not understand. Shannon remembered that moment vividly. She had sat up, stricken with terror, and crying out for her mother, the bog, and home.
Fear and grief overtook her, and the child began to scream with the blood-curdling cry of her inheritance. The elderly woman clapped her hands over her ears, pain registering on her old face as her brain began to pound within her skull. Salvation came in the form of the man who had entered the room, unaffected by her screams.
"Shannon! Shannon, my darling!" the man called out, holding the child's little hands after dismissing the woman. "My child, be at peace. Shhh, baby girl. It is I, Malkai. You are safe. No harm has come to you. Please, stop your screaming before you break every window in this place."
"My mama! Where is my mama?" Shannon sobbed, allowing the man to hold her shaking body in his arms.
"Your mama is gone. My heart aches, as does yours, my love," the king cooed, rocking the crying girl. "I am so sorry I left. If I had only stayed…"
"I want to go home," Shannon pleaded, her face resting on his broad shoulder. "Take me home! Please, Daddy, please take me home."
"Your home is no longer, sweet daughter of mine," Malkai's heart ached with the endearment. "Half of the village disappeared in flames the very night they took your mother from this earth. My ship's captain saw billows of smoke as we departed the islands, and we turned back. It took me five days to find you, child. You have been in a state of twilight for a fortnight and live only by God's grace."
"Mama…" the child bawled.
"Shannon, I need you to listen to me," the king said softly, lifting her chin. "I must ask you to be a big girl for me. You have the blessings of your ancestors upon you, and need to be taught how to control your gifts. They are much greater that I had thought, and I am ill-equipped to provide you the teaching necessary to control them. I will see that you are cared for and given these lessons so that you may bring pride to your mother's memory, and keep yourself safe until such time as I can bring you back with me to Moldavia. Do you understand?"
"Mama was not a banshee," Shannon sniffled. "She did nothing wrong."
"She was pure goodness, my love. It was your father, and the ignorance of the villagers, who are responsible. Their actions against an innocent brought the forces of the swamp upon them."
"It was my doing. I was at fault," Shannon cried guiltily. "I should have been the one punished, not Mama."
"No, Shannon. The only ones worthy of punishment were those who hurt you and your mother. You," he kissed the tip of her nose, "are just a sweet little girl. My sweet, precious, little girl. I have asked the sisters here to watch over you until I send for you. This place is safe from the ignorance of the world and will protect you."
"I do not want to stay here," Shannon said tearfully. "These are strangers. Please, let me go home."
"Shannon," the man said firmly, forcing her to look into his eyes, "I need you to be as good as you can and promise me that you will never wish anything bad upon these kind women. To disobey me would make me most unhappy with you. You do not want that, do you?"
"No," Shannon whispered. "I do not like your temper when you are angry."
"Then you will obey me and trust me to keep you safe?" the king asked, his eyes still locked on hers.
"Yes. Daddy?"
"What is it, sweetheart?" Malkai stroked her face softly, his eyes brimming as she offered him the honorific.
"My screams do not hurt you. Why?" Shannon blinked through glazed eyes.
"My bloodline parallels yours. I am immune to your cries. But not," he wiped a drop from her nose, "your tears. I will always fall victim to those, for I hate to see you so unhappy."
"Must you go away and leave me here?"
"I must. I have a kingdom to care for, and a son I must return to. He also struggles with a birthright, like yours, that he must control. Right now, my people are ill-prepared to accept someone as special as either of you."
Shannon tilted her face, her eight-year-old eyes filled with a wisdom beyond her years. She sniffed again. "We need to teach people not to be afraid of those who are different, don't we?"
"Spoken like a true future queen." He held her small face between his two large hands, and steadied her eyes to look into his. "You have loved and respected me as a father and a teacher for over four years. You call me 'daddy' from the depths of your heart. I have been true to you and your mother, who possessed my very existence. I promised her that if anything ever happened, I would be responsible for you. I have decided that you will wed my son when you come of age, and that you will stand by his side and rule as his queen when he takes the throne."
"I have never met him, Da," Shannon shook her head. "How can I be queen when I know nothing about him? I only know the swamp, healing, and that people are not to be trusted."
"You are far too young to have learned the lesson of mistrust," Malkai sighed sadly, holding her against his chest. "Being a queen starts with your mind, my darling. You are to question everything that comes before you, and not be afraid to challenge things told to you. Being blind to life will not make you a ruler. You are too young to
understand what this means right now, but you will remember every word spoken this day. I promise."
"Your son does not know me, or the ugly thing that I am," Shannon whispered, snuggling under his strong chin.
Malkai rested his cheek on top of her head. "There is nothing ugly about you. You are simply different, and very beautiful in your uniqueness. You will win Domitri's heart just as you have won mine. You will make each other happy and complete. Do you trust me?"
"Yes, Daddy. You are the only one I trust."
"I will not disappoint you, but you must mind me and follow my instructions. Can you do that?"
"I will try."
"That is all I ask. I love you, my girl. Domitri will love you even more fervently. I promise."
CHAPTER 2
Malkai's words rang through her mind as though they were spoken only moments ago. Shannon's heart fluttered as she mourned his passing. He had been kind to her and loved her in a way that only a father could. He had proven that he was constantly thinking of her by remembering her birthday and holidays with gifts, and sending her monthly notes by raven. He visited her every summer and quizzed her on her progress, exclaiming his pride as she demonstrated her new skills in simple conjuring and healing. She feared she would disappoint him, and worked diligently to learn all she could in the ten years that she had lived under the tutelage of the Sisterhood of Truth.
Shannon fingered the shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Malkai had given the luxurious item to her on her eighteenth birthday, just days before he had passed away of the plague. Her gift protected her from illness, and he came to her so that she might remove his pain and comfort him in his final hours. The shawl reminded her of this surrogate father, the only person other than her mother who had fully understood her. It was, like him, gentle, intricate and rare.
She glanced down at the note again. She knew the young king to be several years her senior, and he was alleged to be quiet, moody and isolated. Gossip indicated that he refused invitations to events, ruled his household with an iron fist, and was capable of summoning thunderstorms when angered. He was also said to be merciless when it came to the slaughter of his enemies. Shannon shook her head and tried to follow the teachings of the convent—to ignore rumors and gossip.
"What disturbs your thoughts this night, my girl?" a voice asked from her doorway.
Shannon looked up and offered a soft smile. "I am brooding over my future, Sister. I do not wish to leave my home for a man I have never met."
"You knew and respected this man's father, yes? King Malkai made you his ward. He loved and cared deeply for you. Did you not trust him?"
"I trusted him with my life. He was more of a father to me than any. He saw through my evil nature and gave me hope."
"Tsk, tsk," the old Sister shook her head. "He would be taking a switch to your bottom if he heard you talk about yourself like that. There is no evil in your nature, child. You must stop repeating the lies of the past. He saw how exceptional you are, and wished to give you the gift of his son and his kingdom to show you his love."
"Then why did he not take me back to live with him? Why was I kept here, isolated from everyone by the Sisterhood? Was he afraid or ashamed of me?"
The woman sat on the single chair in the room and patted the mattress for Shannon to sit. "You know the answers to those questions. Your gift was too unpredictable when you were a youth, it was subject to your tantrums and temper. These walls have the power to absorb most of the damage, but not all. He could not risk the world becoming victim to your gift until you could control it. He was saving his kingdom, his people, and you, by having you stay here."
"My temper has calmed, has it not?"
"I wish I could say that was so," the woman chuckled. "Only the chickens and the goats have been spared from your screams. No amount of switchings have limited them, either. You do tend to be unruly, yes?"
"Yes," Shannon sighed. "I seem to have no power to stop the keening when it erupts. Even now I doubt my ability to control it. But I would not hurt anyone intentionally."
"We know that. Your gift controls you still, rather than you controlling it. As you mature, it will become easier if you apply discipline to your actions."
"I fear that my betrothed will not be as patient. If he is like his father, he will be immune to my cries…"
"But not your tears," the woman said with a gentle smile. "King Malkai always said that you have no need to scream. He would give you the moon at the first sign of a silent tear."
"I would give up my gift to have him here and alive once again. I fear for my future, Sister."
"The king would never subject you to danger. He wished you to be happy, and trusts that this coupling will be the best for all. Believe in his heart, Shannon, even if you don't trust your own."
"His son is said to be unlike him. Cruel, heartless, demanding. Rumors say…"
"Rumors! Rumors are what took your mother's life," the sister scolded. "To believe in a rumor is foolishness. To repeat a rumor is wicked. You have been taught this!"
"Rumors usually have some element of truth in them, do they not?" Shannon argued.
"Then you are to find the truth and dispel the lie. Must I run you through your exercises to remind you of this?"
Shannon shuddered and shook her head. She hated doing Spell-binding. Its purpose was simply to make her focus her energy into a single flame and clear her mind of cobwebs, and it always left her with a headache and a burned hand.
The sister took her silence as acquiescence and nodded her head with approval. "Good. Wisdom prevails. The novices will come in and pack your trunks while you make haste to finish your tasks."
Shannon wrinkled her nose. "It is my last evening at the abbey! Must I?"
"You have been trying to get out of evening chores since the day you first arrived," the woman chuckled. "I recall King Malkai placing you promptly across his knee for refusing to cooperate. Have you forgotten?"
"No." Shannon blushed. Having never been spanked before, she had been stunned by the gentle king's actions. They had been in the cathedral talking with several of the Sisters, and Shannon had been told to sweep the floors. She had promptly thrown a horrid tantrum and shattered the beautiful stained-glass windows that sent rainbows of light onto the wooden furnishings. Without a word, Malkai had scooped her around the waist and over his lap. The pain he deposited upon her bottom shocked her even more, and her screams turned into pleas to cease. Satisfied that she had learned a lesson, he lifted her onto his lap and rocked her lovingly in his arms. She clung to him, crying against his shoulder from both pain and humiliation. From that moment, Shannon was determined to never again invite another episode of his hardened palm applied to her tender buttocks, but that did not discourage her from challenging the Sisters at every opportunity.
"Good. Now put on your apron and gather the goats for milking."
With a sigh, Shannon rose gracefully from the hard mattress. Her long legs carried her to the goat yard, where she looked distastefully about her. She hated milking more than scrubbing pots. For some reason, the animals wanted to sit on her rather than allow her to do her task. Glancing around to make certain she was not being watched, she used her gift to manipulate liquids. She inhaled deeply and began to sing, swaying her body to the sound of her voice. The druid's dance took control and she lost herself to the flow of her heart and blood matching the earth. Slowly, she began to spin…
One by one, the buckets filled with the foamy milk. She was nearly finished when she heard clucking behind her. She felt her heart sink as she slowly turned to see the Grand Dame standing behind her, arms crossed sternly, and tapping a black shod foot.
"I know, I know," Shannon groaned, lifting her skirts automatically and placing her hands on the wooden bench.
"You know, yet you continue to pursue what is forbidden," the old woman scolded, producing the long, slender 'rod of correction' from her copious robes. "The time has come for you to feel this upon your flesh, child.
Why do you still insist on wearing a man's braies beneath your smock? They are indecent."
"They keep me warm in this God forsaken weather and help preserve my modesty. I see no problem with wearing such."
"Remove them."
"What?" Shannon stared at the woman in shock. "You presume me to bare myself before you for punishment?"
"I presume nothing. You shall do so and without delay."
"I am of too many years for you to punish me thusly," Shannon argued. "I am a grown woman of eighteen and about to be married."
"Yet, you are still unable to follow the basic rules set forth for your protection. Obey me."
Shannon fought back angry tears as she untied the drawstrings that kept the linen underclothes around her waist. Blood rushed to her face as the garment fell in a soft puddle to the ground.
"Step out of them and place them upon the bench. There is no need for them to be sullied as you stomp about," the Grand Dame ordered patiently.
Shannon grumbled to herself, embarrassed by the fact that the old woman was correct. She still was unable to take a punishment without hopping around like a fairy during a festival! She folded her clothing carefully, laid the small pile upon the bench seat, and then sighed as she repositioned herself.
Cold air struck her bared bottom as the Grand Dame lifted her skirts away from her fleshly objective. Shannon held her breath as she felt the slim dowel touch her protruding mounds, knowing that the target was sighted. A swoosh proceeded the sharp snap as the rod sliced cleanly across her flesh.
"Yeow!" Shannon cried out, standing up straight as she grabbed her insulted backside.
"Bend over. You know the penalty is six."
"No! It hurts!" Shannon protested, stunned by the intensity of the stroke.
The Grand Dame tapped the bench with the tip of the rod. "Must I call for help and further your humiliation by having others watch your punishment as they hold you in place?"
"Please, I promise…"
Her King's Command Page 2