Shawna Thomas

by Journey of Dominion

  Nenya’s body contracted, and the baby’s shoulders appeared, followed quickly by its body. Ilythra rubbed the baby with a clean cloth; relief flooded her when a high-pitched cry joined the mother’s quiet sobbing. Tears pricked her own eyes.

  Ilythra approached the woman with the bundled baby. “You have a son, and he’s beautiful.” Emotion thickened her voice. She laid the baby next to his mother and prepared to deliver the afterbirth. No matter how many babies she helped come into the world, it always brought a lump to her throat. After inspecting the placenta, she cleaned Nenya and prepared a tea that would slow her bleeding. A headache formed behind her eyes.

  Nenya’s face was infused with awe as she gazed at her son. Even though her hair still hung in damp tendrils around her pale face, Ilythra thought she’d never seen a more beautiful woman.

  The baby began rooting. Nenya offered him a breast, wincing a little as he latched on. She glanced toward Ilythra, questioning.

  “That’s normal. You’ll get used it and it won’t hurt anymore. It’s a good indication that he’s healthy too.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse.

  Ilythra neared. “I’ve a tea for you to drink.”

  Nenya reached for the bowl with one hand and obediently drank the liquid.

  As the new mother fed her son, Ilythra changed the linens on the bed. Her bleeding had already slowed, but Ilythra didn’t want to take any chances and set to mixing some herbs for Res to make into tea after Ilythra had gone. She was checking the sleeping woman’s pulse when the father stuck his head in the door.

  “Your wife and son are fine.” She smiled then winced. The pain behind her eyes had increased.

  Tears blurred Res’ blue eyes; he stepped tentatively into the room then approached the bed. His chest visibly swelled.

  “She’s very weak and needs to stay in bed for at least a quarter of a moon. After that, she’ll still have to be careful. No work, no lifting for two moons.”

  The man swallowed.

  “Do you have someone to help you with the farm, the cooking? Any family?”

  “She don’t have any family. Her ma died last harvest. I suppose my family will help some, but they’re full up with their farm.”

  Ilythra nodded. “I have to come back tomorrow to check on her. I’ll bring dinner with me.”

  He stretched out a hand but didn’t touch her. “Charity, milady? I don’t mean to sound—”

  “Not charity. She’s my patient. It’s my duty to make sure she and the baby recover their health. I fully expect to be paid after I’ve done my job.”

  The man swallowed again.

  Ilythra was too tired to smile. Why did the rich think the poor had no pride? “Don’t worry. It won’t cost you your farm.”

  “Much obliged, milady.”

  Ilythra gathered her things and glanced back at the sleeping mother. The sun was now deep in the west. She realized she hadn’t eaten all day, and the headache spread down to the base of her neck. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  The man tore his gaze away from his wife and child to nod his farewell.

  * * *

  Ilythra stepped out into the dusky sunset, realizing she’d left the horse by the inn. Her legs felt wooden and sluggish. A fresh dusting of snow lay on the ground, a stark contrast with the sky in the west, brilliant turquoise striated by ivory clouds tinged pink. She headed toward the town to retrieve her horse.

  “Associating with the lower class, Ilythra?” Bredych leaned against a wall. His finely woven clothing stood out in the poor surroundings. He slipped next to her, matching her stride. “I’ve forgotten. It makes you feel good to tend to the rabble.”

  “You forget nothing.” She continued walking. It had been a long day and her head was now throbbing. She was not in the mood for a debate.

  Bredych laughed. “My, but you’re spirited and correct. So did you do your good deeds?”

  “The woman and the baby will live.”

  “If you want to call it life.” His voice dripped derision.

  She ignored him.

  “I suppose it will keep you busy, occupy your thoughts,” he continued in a conversational tone. “Peasants do have a nasty habit of becoming ill.”

  She spun to face him. “What do you want?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ilythra’s eyes widened. “What possible use could you have for me?”

  “Now that is a question worth answering,” he responded, glancing around, “in more private circumstances. We are of like kind. A rare breed.”

  “I am nothing like you.”

  “I think you judge me too harshly.” His expression fell. “You make assumptions without all the facts. Allow me to fill in the details?” Dark eyes sparkled with intent.

  He did save her. And that didn’t change everything else he’d done. Her mind was full of warring thoughts. She rubbed her temple. “How do you judge harshly someone who takes what he wants without regard to anyone else?”

  “Is that what you think? I go to great lengths to achieve my goals, but then, doesn’t everyone? Don’t you? I believe they call it determination. If from time to time I go too far...well, that’s a judgment call, isn’t it? Besides, some things, by their very nature, must be given.”

  “I’m surprised you know that.”

  “I know many things.” His voice lowered. “Why don’t you ask?”

  “I am not in the mood to spar with you.” Even she could hear her voice held little conviction.

  “No, when will you be? The activity is quite stimulating, isn’t it?” He moved closer. “I can feel the blood pounding in your veins.”

  “I have a headache.”

  Bredych laughed. “A bit overused, don’t you think?”

  Ilythra shrugged, but she couldn’t deny her heart did beat faster in proximity to Bredych. It had to be the stone. But she was beginning to wonder.

  “Erhard told me he’d given you earrings. You’re not wearing them.”

  Ilythra brushed her ear lightly with a finger. She’d left them in the castle. She had an idea that not very many of the villagers could afford such things and hadn’t wanted to flaunt them. “No. I’m not. I wasn’t aware fashion interested you.”

  “Everything about you interests me.”

  Heat traveled Ilythra’s body. She began to walk.

  “We are not so different, you and I.” His voice wrapped around her mind, seductive, soothing.

  “I think we are.” She clenched her jaw, sending a surge of pain through her head. The pain speared through her thoughts, clearing her mind in its wake.

  “Very well. I can see you’re not quite yourself at present and I won’t take advantage. I value our conversations too much for that.”

  Ilythra spun. “I will ask one question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “The Siobani—where are they?”

  Bredych stepped close and traced the line of her jaw with one finger. “Oh, my sweet child, even if I knew they existed, what would it benefit me to tell you?”

  * * *

  Sweat stung her eyes; she blinked it away, concentrating on the pattern and timing changes of her sword thrusts without varying the tempo. Moonlight spilled through the window, bringing with it the sounds of festivities in the garden below. Her muscles were beginning to tire, proof that she’d been too long from practice. After returning to the castle, she’d removed to her room and her headache had eased almost at once, but frustration had replaced it. She’d decided not to join the celebrations in favor of solitude. You’re hiding from Bredych. She intensified her movements to drown out the traitorous thought.

  With a fluid movement, she spun, exchanging Zeynel’s staff for her practice swo
rd resting on the floor, and continued the precise movements her grandfather had taught her. She supposed if someone were to watch her, he or she wouldn’t notice a difference, but she did. Her movements were awkward, reactions slower.

  The practice sword’s movements stilled, her concentration gone. She moved to the open window. The skies were dark and low, underscored by the occasional puff of a darker cloud driven by the whim of a breeze. It would storm again, and soon. A natural storm, or Bredych’s? It didn’t matter. She moved from the window, stowing her practice sword and picking up the staff, placing it carefully under the bed.

  She paused. It had been an unconscious movement yet she couldn’t deny its meaning. She was scared. But of what? Bredych? Why? She was fairly confident if it came to a fight she could hold her own. But what if the fight wasn’t physical? Cold panic washed over her skin.

  She breathed deeply. She was not an idiot or one easily influenced by suggestion, and Bredych was not a wizard. He couldn’t control her mind. He said himself he couldn’t kill her. She wouldn’t let him get close enough to manipulate her. Broken down into its elements, she couldn’t see that there was anything to fear. Perhaps I’m afraid because of my reaction to him?

  Ilythra closed her eyes. It was true; she was drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain. Not how she was drawn to the king. With Bredych it was primal, beyond conscious thought. Urgent. Her heart raced as she remembered his finger tracing her jaw, a promise of power in his gaze.

  I’m trapped here. Not trapped. It had been a decision. Aclan was recovering, but there were villagers who needed a healer. Like she had every winter, she could study the local crafts, listen to their stories, find clues that would lead her on the next leg of her quest. She’d found Crioch and knew where it was. Despite everything else, that was success.

  Now she only needed to find the Siobani and the third stone, then somehow bring them together. She would accomplish her task despite the obstacles in her way. “I go to great lengths to achieve my goals, but then, doesn’t everyone? Don’t you?” Bredych’s voice tickled her mind; she felt again his breath on her neck.

  A chill brushed her skin. “No, I’m not like him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Morning sun spilled into the room. Ilythra absently watched the dust motes float in the beam of light while she pulled on her boots. Once again she’d failed to meditate. It wasn’t for lack of trying. Entering Teann had felt like trying to step into rapids. She wasn’t sure if her thoughts were so turbulent or if something else disturbed Teann. Either way, the effort only led to frustration.

  Today, she’d planned to try to mount Melior. He’d begun to relax when she placed her arm across his back, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t wild, just particular. That he would decide who rode him and when.

  She wanted to go into town this morning, but later she’d stop by Aclan’s room to hear about the festivities she’d missed the night before and make sure he hadn’t celebrated too much. Ilythra fastened her cloak and moved to retrieve her earrings from the table near her bed. They weren’t there. She looked on the floor and under the bed. Her ears felt naked and bare.

  Cassia entered the room then froze when she saw Ilythra.

  “Have you seen my earrings?”

  “Yes, milady. I-I picked them up to clean under them this morning when I brought your breakfast and forgot to put them back. I’m very sorry.” She held her hand out with the earrings in her palm.

  “No harm done. Thank you.” Ilythra accepted them and fastened them to her ears. “There.”

  “They are beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I’m going into town. I’ll be back for the celebrations.”

  * * *

  Cassia stood in the room and watched Ilythra leave. She hadn’t even noticed they weren’t the same earrings—close, but not identical. Not even the most talented artisan could make identical markings in the glass. Even as she reveled in his brilliance, she had to admit to some disappointment that the healer had been so easy to fool.

  The bed looked soft, and she was tired. She’d had to stay up late to sneak down the maze of underground passages that led from Bredych’s manor to the castle. Bredych never trusted instructions to a third party.

  She knew Ilythra’s routine as well as the healer did. Cassia had brought breakfast a little earlier than usual, while Ilythra was still doing the exercises with her stick, and pocketed the earrings. Then it was a race down to the tunnels, where a man waited at the entrance with another set of earrings, the exchange and a race back.

  What was in them? She’d never had the nerve to ask him that question but when she’d pondered what to say if Ilythra discovered them missing, Bredych had smiled and said, “Say anything. She’ll believe you.” And she had.

  Cassia glanced at the bed again. Even with no sleep, she had duties to perform or receive Konrad’s wrath. Not long now. Soon, she’d sleep until the sun was high in the sky and make others bend and labor for her ease. With that thought to buffer her mind, she began her daily tasks.

  * * *

  Alchemy—he even loved the word. With care, he mixed two oils, diluted the mixture with the same amount of alcohol and swirled it gently. A subtle fragrance filled the air. Bredych quickly stoppered the jar.

  It was his masterpiece. The last piece he needed. She’d frustrated him at first with her reaction to the original combination. She seemed to have a natural resistance. As soon as he thought he’d made the solution strong enough, she’d begun to fight back. Think too much. But now, he had it right. To be fair, he’d had to use two separate formulas. When he’d tried to combine them, it seemed to decrease in potency. Then he’d had a brilliant idea. Mix two: one for Ilythra, one for Erhard, and when they moved together... He smiled. It was very much like a love potion. Too bad a woman needed to be confused and disoriented before she could think she was in love with the idiot.

  He selected a dark bottle of oil and cradled it in his hands. He remembered discovering the herb. He’d been in the mountains of Rugia when he saw a goat on a slope above them begin to stagger as though drunk. The shepherds had draped clothes over their noses and run toward the animal, carrying him back down the slope. When he’d asked about it, they’d shown him a grass growing on the mountainside. He’d plucked it, and the smell had immediately fogged his thoughts. They called it dacrite, death plant. He called it genius and immediately experimented with it. When he distilled it to its essence, it was strong enough to bleed the thoughts right out of a man or woman, causing permanent damage. He’d perfected his experiments on that idiotic Benai. True, his poetry had been the first thing to draw Bredych. His words had seemed to draw pictures in his mind. It had also been what sealed his fate—some things shouldn’t be remembered.

  He held up the bottle. The perfect weapon, the very necessity of life, breath, drawing the poison deep. How could you defend against a scent? It was such a subtle thing, seemingly powerless, an afterthought and yet stronger than words, deeds or even force could ever be. I’ve defeated you by proxy and you never suspected the source of your downfall. He licked his lips. Soon, either Ilythra would be pliable to his every suggestion, and he would control her stone with her full cooperation, or she’d be his partner. And not even Ewen or the stone of wisdom would stand against him. Victory was sweet.

  * * *

  Ilythra approached the door to her room. Nenya and the baby were doing well. She’d convinced the small family to take the loaves of bread, hard cheese and pastries she’d removed from the larder. The pastries had been the cook’s idea. The old woman had smiled and turned her back, pretending not to notice Ilythra gathering the food, then said, “Oh my, I think I made too many tarts.” Ilythra had added a few to her plunder.

  When she opened her door, Cassia was waiting with a half smile on her face. She moved aside to reveal another woman and lengt
hs of fabric.

  “Cassia—”

  “Just one dress? You’ll be here all winter.” The girl’s voice had a pleading quality.

  Ilythra felt a moment of annoyance. What was it to her? “And after the winter?”

  Cassia shrugged. “We’re about the same size. You could give it to me.” Her eyes sparkled.

  She was too tired to fight Cassia’s enthusiasm. Besides, it would spare her further dirty looks from Lucin. She glanced from Cassia to other woman. “The seamstress?”

  Cassia nodded.

  “I’m tired now. Maybe later.”

  Cassia stepped forward. “If we wait, it won’t be ready in time for the last day of Emdarech.”

  “I’m a seamstress, not a magician,” the seamstress added.

  Ilythra glanced between the two women. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

  * * *

  Ilythra ran her hand over the soft blue fabric the seamstress had left with her, the calluses on her fingers catching on the beautiful material.

  “Do you like it?” Cassia asked.

  “Very much.” Ilythra gazed over the ocean of blue spread over her lap. It reminded her of something. Of home. “It’s beautiful.”

  “We can make a little purse for you out of this piece. It’s almost the perfect size.” She beamed, holding up a small piece of the same fabric. “You’re going to look so beautiful.”

  The dressmaker had been very much like she’d expected. As soon as Ilythra gave her approval, she’d rushed in, took several measurements and pronounced that though it would keep her girls busy all day, the dress would be ready for the next morning.

  “Thank you. I mean, for caring.”

  Cassia’s pale eyes widened then narrow in nonchalance.

  “Of course, when I leave, the dress will be yours.”

  A mixture of emotions crossed Cassia’s face like a thunderstorm. “I wasn’t serious,” she finally said.

  Ilythra stared into Cassia’s pale eyes. Maybe the girl needed a friend. Maybe I do. “Cassia, if you ever want to talk...”