Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire)

by S. L. Jesberger

  But Emara said nothing. She seemed content to let Gwen hold her under the blanket, and the two of them sat quietly in the darkness.

  Jariath sat in the throne room of the manor house, getting drunker by the minute. He’d missed her again. He’d captured the arrogant old Queen Mother and Fionn’s skinny, worthless widow instead. He was still mystified as to how Aislin continually eluded him, but now he had a bigger problem. The army of Wyndham.

  He’d been fearless in front of Brock and his men, but he knew Stanis’s army was formidable. Aislin was very clever, and he knew Wyndham would have been the first place she thought of as she made her escape. The only thing he could hope for was that Aislin wouldn’t make it that far, that she would come back to him on her knees when she found out he had her mother and sister-in-law in the dungeon. He knew he was leaving things up to chance, and he’d never had that kind of good fortune. Still, he refused to believe his carefully made plans would unravel.

  He thought about the women in the dungeon, and his thoughts immediately went to his father, King Boru. Jariath hated him with a passion, but he needed to stay in favor to remain his heir. He wondered if he could appease the miserable bastard by sending the old queen north to his father. He knew some things... and it just might work.

  Drunk and angry, Jariath grabbed a torch and made his way to the dungeon.

  Gwen was aghast to see Jariath standing in front of their cell. She was even more horrified when he opened the door and stepped in. She pulled Emara close to her.

  Jariath got down on his haunches in front of Emara, and stared at her for a few minutes before he began to laugh softly. The sound was sickening, and Gwen shivered.

  “So this is the beautiful Emara, former queen of Arianrhod.” His eyes glittered in the gloom of the cell. “I wonder what my father would think if he knew I held you here.”

  With a whimper, Emara tucked in closer to Gwen.

  “My father has often said how much he misses you. His biggest regret was losing you. He’d be delighted to have you back, I’m sure. No one to come for you now, is there?”

  Emara lifted her head to look at Jariath. “I would kill myself before I would go back to your father. You can count on that. I’d love nothing more than to stick a knife in his ribs. It’s what he deserves.”

  Jariath laughed again. “I think I’ll keep you a secret for a little while longer. I need you here as bait for Aislin. But rest assured, you’ll be sent north to my father once this is over.” He stood up and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

  “What was that about?” Gwen asked.

  Emara started to weep, her whole body trembling as she buried her face in Gwen’s shoulder. Gwen held her, confused. “Emara...?”

  “I can’t tell you!” she wailed against Gwen. “Don’t ask me!”

  “Shhh. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Gwen stroked her hair and tried to comfort the sobbing woman.

  “Please don’t tell Aislin what happened here.”

  “I won’t, but I think you should. I don’t know what happened to you, but if you have some kind of secret where Morrigan is concerned, Aislin needs to know. And she needs to hear it from you.”

  “I know. But I may never get the chance to tell her.”

  “Don’t ever doubt her, Emara. Your daughter is a wonder. She’s as tough as they come,” Gwen said. “Aislin will make it to Wyndham, and Bryce will rescue us. You’ll see.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  THE PIT IS NARROW AND deep, but I can see the light at the top. It’s so far to climb though, and the walls are wet and slippery. How did I get here? I’m so very tired, my body sluggish and heavy. I want to climb out of here, but I can’t hold onto the slimy rocks. I keep falling back to the wet ground. I’m dying...somebody help me! Help me!

  “Wake up.” There was an insistent hand on Aislin’s shoulder, nudging her, and the scream died on her lips. “I have your breakfast here.”

  The sound of Tristan’s voice rescued her from one nightmare only to drop her into another. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the wall away from him. She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to talk to him, and she certainly didn’t want to give him any opportunity to flash that brilliant smile at her and try to smooth things over. What he’d done to her was unforgivable.

  Aislin felt him gently remove the gag, and then he released her ankles and wrists from the chains. He lingered a moment over her bloody wrists, and she heard him mutter something under his breath. She pulled her hands away from him, curled herself into a ball and slumped against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest.

  She could sense him standing over her, could smell the food he had for her. Go away, just please go away and leave me alone, she silently willed.

  Tears gathered behind her eyes as several more minutes passed. Will you just get out of here so I don’t have to look at your ridiculously handsome face?

  An aching, destructive rage tore at her. She’d been given no choice. No choice at all. She’d been kept here without explanation, lied to, treated as though what she wanted didn’t matter. And she was terrified of what the future held for her.

  Tristan sighed, and it sounded painful. Aislin felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she held tight to her anger. He had no one to blame but himself for the standoff that existed between them now.

  The trencher chimed softly as Tristan placed it on the marble floor. The door of the cell slammed and locked behind him.

  Aislin waited until the sound of his footsteps died away before she opened her eyes. She tried to get to her feet. The wounds on her wrists and ankles burned like fire, and spending the night on the cold floor had left her stiff and achy. She whimpered as she stood and limped to the pile of blankets. She quickly ate the breakfast and, still emotionally exhausted, collapsed into the welcoming softness, falling asleep within minutes.

  It was much later when the jarring sound of metal on metal jolted Aislin out of a sound slumber. She looked around in confusion and realized it was the middle of the night. She blinked, trying to clear the fog of sleep. Footsteps out in the hall brought her to a full state of alertness.

  Moonlight flooded the hall outside, and as she looked around, she noticed a full trencher of food that had been left on the floor for her. Would Tristan be coming to check on her at this hour? Somehow, she didn’t think so. She was quickly out of the blankets and on her feet.

  The footsteps drew closer until a shadowy figure materialized at the door of her cell.

  “Who are you? Show yourself!” she demanded.

  The shadow opened the door and stepped toward her. She squinted into the darkness, her heart racing with fear. He slowly reached up and pulled down his hood.

  It was one of the council elders. The one they called Duff.

  “What do you want?” Aislin asked hesitantly.

  Duff responded by delivering a vicious backhand across her right cheek. The unexpected blow sent her spinning away from him and hard into the marble wall.

  She had the dizzying sensation of sliding and falling at the same time, finally landing face down on the floor. Sparks of pain danced behind her eyelids. She put her palms down and tried to push herself up. She collapsed, and tried again to get to her feet.

  Duff was on her in an instant, shoving his knee into the small of her back with such force it stole her breath. Grasping a wrist in each hand, he pulled them out from under her and twisted them behind her back, then bound them tightly.

  Aislin opened her mouth to scream, praying Tristan would hear her up the stairs. Duff, straddling her back, grabbed her head and forced her cheek hard against the stone floor. She heard him laugh softly: an ugly, malevolent laugh.

  His voice was directly above her, soft and threatening in her ear as he forced a gag into her mouth. “No no, Princess. No
need to call for Tristan. I have a very interesting evening planned for the two of us, and he would just be in the way.”

  He hauled her roughly to her feet and snaked an arm around her waist, looking hard into her eyes. “You’re very beautiful, but you don’t belong here. I intend to find out what has Tristan so beguiled, and then I’m going to cut your throat. Tristan has shown himself to be weak by allowing you to live. I expect the Sylvan council will reward me for killing you by making me the new chieftain.”

  Aislin stared at him stupidly, absorbing his words. Duff had been insistent that she be executed immediately, but she never dreamed he’d be willing to take things into his own hands this way.

  Twisting desperately in his grasp, she screamed under the gag. She knew Tristan wouldn’t hear her muffled cries, but she had to do something, anything...

  He tightened his grip, a leering smile spread across his face. “Scream all you want, human. He’s too far away to hear you, and he’s probably sound asleep.” He leaned into her and began to kiss her neck. She closed her eyes and tried to be somewhere else.

  Duff pulled away from her, breathing hard. He gripped her by the arm and pulled her from the cell.

  White moonlight bathed the forest as they stumbled out into the clearing below the village. He dragged her across the clearing and into the deep woods. As Aislin struggled to stay on her feet, she tried desperately to think of some way to save herself.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she saw the glow of a fire off in the distance.

  You’re running out of time! Do something!

  Digging her bare heels into the soft loam of the forest floor, Aislin stiffened and threw herself backward, pulling them both off balance. Duff was forced to let go of her abruptly, and the momentum pulled her forward onto her knees. She quickly scrambled to her feet and headed back toward Oakenbourne, her legs pumping furiously.

  She was only free for a second or two before he caught her around the waist and lifted her off the ground. She kicked and thrashed in his arms. He let her exert herself for a moment, and then he tightened his arm around her.

  “If you want to play rough, human, I’m happy to oblige. I usually like my women staring into my eyes when I take them, but I’m willing to make an exception in your case.” The arm around her waist had tightened to such a degree that Aislin was becoming lightheaded.

  His words chilled her. She forced herself to relax against him. She had precious little chance of escaping him, but she would have no chance at all if she were unconscious.

  Duff, breathing hard from excitement and his efforts to subdue her, carried her the rest of the way to the fire. “I can’t wait to feel you beneath me. I like a woman who fights...” he murmured in her ear. “...but I think the moment I’m going to enjoy the most is the one where I cut into your pretty little throat with my knife.”

  She shivered with revulsion. Her mind screamed for Tristan, but she knew it was beyond hope. He would have no way of knowing Duff had taken her from the cell. He wouldn’t find her until it was too late.

  As the reality of her impending death began to penetrate her muddled mind, she found herself wishing she had talked to Tristan. She could have remained calm and asked him what he’d been thinking when he let Roderic go without her. Instead, she’d thrown the mother of all tantrums and shut him out. There would be no second chance for her.

  Duff carried her into the clearing and dumped her on her feet. She was horrified to see that he’d driven four wooden stakes into the ground near the fire. Each stake had a length of rough rope tied around it, an extra three feet or so coiled into the grass. He’d spread blankets on the ground within the four corners of the rectangle.

  He’d not been jesting when he said he had an interesting evening planned. She was going to die tonight, but not before he did unspeakable things to her. It took every bit of strength she had not to sink to her knees.

  Duff stalked around her in wide circles, studying her. She spun with him warily, unwilling to give him her back. Finally, he stopped in front of her and removed the gag.

  “Do you find me handsome?” he asked her, cocking his head to one side.

  Aislin stared at him, her mouth open in disbelief. What do I say to that?

  His face grew dark when she didn’t answer. “You prefer Tristan,” he said, stepping toward her threateningly.

  Her mind was blank. To tell him yes would infuriate him, something she had no wish to do. To tell him no would encourage him, an equally abhorrent thought.

  He gave a low growl of anger, and gripping her tunic at the neck, ripped it completely open down the front. She staggered forward as he pulled, then regained her footing. She looked down in horror at the ruined tunic. She was completely naked to his eyes.

  Shivering uncontrollably, Aislin met his grin with what she hoped was a look of strength. Duff stepped forward and, pushing aside the ripped tunic, slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him again. She could feel his erection hard against her hip. His other hand roughly twisted her breast, making her gasp in pain.

  “Do you like that?” he asked.

  It was all she could stand.

  “You disgust me. You’re a sickening little pig of an elf. Yes, I prefer Tristan. He is ten times the elf you are. Go ahead and kill me, but you’ll have to kill him too. When he finds out what you’ve done to me, there won’t be enough left of you to bury!”

  With a shriek of rage, Duff stepped back and backhanded her again. She twisted backward, falling in slow motion. She knew once she was down, it would all be over. Duff would finish what he started, and she would not be able to stop him.

  She was astonished to feel a strong arm break her fall by catching her across the back of her shoulders. The arm pulled her close, and she smelled him before she saw him—that wonderfully distinct smell of horses and leather and smoke—

  Tristan!

  Aislin turned into him and buried her face against his shoulder, sobbing hysterically, weak with relief.

  “Are you hurt?” he whispered in her ear. She shook her head against him.

  Duff staggered back. “How did you find us?” he gasped.

  “I sleep lightly.” Tristan’s voice was cold as steel.

  “Come now, I’ve seen you kill many a human woman. There’s nothing special about this one, is there? I have everything ready. We could share her tonight. I already know she is soft and warm. I’m sure she could be made willing.” Duff grinned and motioned toward the stakes near the fire.

  Aislin felt Tristan pull her even tighter against him. “I am going to kill you, Duff.”

  Duff started to laugh. “You would never kill me, Tristan. If council found out that you had killed me to save her, they would remove you as chieftain and banish you forever. Sylvan lives still hold more value than that of a human. You know you can’t kill me. And if you let me live, I won’t stop until I take her from you.”

  “I never want to see you again. I swear if I see you within five miles of Oakenbourne, I’ll take my chances with council and kill you on the spot. You’re as bad as the worst human. You proved it here tonight. You don’t deserve to live among us,” Tristan said.

  Duff started forward in anger, but Tristan raised the sword he carried to Duff’s throat. He stopped just short of the deadly point. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’ve never been more serious. What you have brought to this campsite tonight is all I’ll allow you to keep. I’m done with you. You are henceforth banished from Oakenbourne.”

  Duff backed away from Tristan, a look of shock and disbelief on his face. Without saying a word, he turned and ran into the darkness of the forest.

  Tristan blew out a breath of relief and dropped the sword before he turned his attention to Aislin. He untied her wrists and covered her face with relieved kisses,
which would have been amusing had she not been completely paralyzed by terror.

  He stood her back away from him, looking her over frantically. She pulled the front of the tunic closed around her and refused to meet his eyes.

  “Are you hurt? He didn’t...”

  Aislin knew what he meant, and she shook her head. Tristan put the sword back in the scabbard, picked her up in his arms, and carried her all the way back to Oakenbourne.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  AISLIN HAD EXPECTED HIM TO deposit her back in the cell, but he carried her past it, and up more flights of stairs. She knew where he was taking her.

  Tristan eased her down onto his bed and studied her face. Her cheek burnt like fire, she couldn’t see very well out of her right eye, and she could feel a warm trickle of blood running from her nose. She was still shaking from an overload of adrenaline. Not even Jariath had ever terrorized her like that.

  “Do I look as bad as I feel?” she whispered, trying to smile. The smile curved one side of her face. It was a little disconcerting to realize she couldn’t feel the other side.

  Tristan smoothed her hair back and curved his body protectively over hers as he sat beside her on the bed. The raw emotion on his face left her breathless. “You have never been more beautiful,” he said softly. “I will never let anyone take you away from me.”

  He left her, but returned quickly with a basin of warm water and a cloth. He lovingly wiped the blood and dirt from her face and wrists, his eyes never leaving hers.