Shawna Thomas

by Journey of Dominion

  She visibly stiffened. “I have friends outside those I serve, milady.”

  Ilythra blinked back a dull disappointment. “What are you doing tomorrow for Emdarech?”

  Cassia picked up a few pieces of fabric. “I will be with the cook’s family.”

  “Do you have no family?” She stood, folding the blue fabric.

  “No. My mother died when I was very young.”

  “I see. And your father?”

  “I have no father.” Her voice hardened.

  “My parents both died when I was very young too,” Ilythra said. The melancholy that usually accompanied the thought was absent. “I never knew them.”

  Cassia paused and glanced at Ilythra. “Who raised you?”

  “My grandfather.” Images of the ocean, sandy beaches and the small house, all the windows open to catch the breeze danced through her head but blurred as though they’d happened a lifetime ago.

  She returned to her task. “Is he who taught you to be...what you are?”

  What I am? “Partially. I had other teachers. Like Rothit was teaching Aclan.”

  “So your grandfather chose your path.”

  “No. I mean...” The memory of sitting in front of the fire listening to her grandfather’s tale of how the stone came to him and how he’d trained her to return to mainland Anatar since she was little flew to the forefront of her mind, and with it, confusion and a feeling of betrayal.

  “Did you choose it, Ilythra, or was it chosen for you?” Bredych’s voice echoed in her mind. “This is the life I’ve chosen,” she said, suddenly realizing she didn’t know if that was true anymore.

  * * *

  “Victory.” Ilythra looked up but Erhard was studying the Crist board.

  Erhard blinked and finally met her gaze, smiling. “You did it.”

  Ilythra laughed. “Your mind was hardly on the game.” She stood.

  “No, don’t go yet. Stay a little longer. Have a glass of wine?” Erhard pushed back his chair and reached for her hand.

  After glancing from the glass she’d already finished to the half empty bottle, Ilythra shrugged. It was better than going back to her room and trying to sleep, only to find Bredych’s magnetic gaze in the darkness behind her lids. Besides, Erhard was good company and she liked him. “One more glass.” She moved toward the small couch in front of the fireplace.

  Erhard filled her glass and then his, emptying the bottle, then sat next to her. “Bosky tells me you’re a miracle worker.”

  Ilythra raised an eyebrow.

  “That horse you call Melior.”

  “The one you gave me?”

  Erhard laughed. “Yes. That’s the one. He said that no one else can get near him. Only you.”

  His breath tickled the hair at her temple. She shrugged. “He likes me.”

  One finger traced her ear down to her neck. His voice was soft. “I like you.”

  Ilythra gazed into Erhard’s eyes and the questions they asked. She did like him, very much. Did it always have to be a wild, uncontrolled need? A passion that quickened your heart and captured your breath? There would never be another Tobar, but there would be another. Why not Erhard?

  “Look. I’ve never been good at this kind of thing—”

  Ilythra placed a finger on his lips. “You’ve never had to be.” She kissed him.

  She’d often wondered what it would be like to kiss another man besides Tobar. Gone was the wild saltiness of the desert. In its place was a gentle tame rain. His lips were soft, mild. Then long years of deprivation took their toll, and she felt the need she’d been denying raise its head. The rain became a torrent. She ran her hands through his silvery hair then down his shoulders, loving the hard angles of his chest beneath her fingertips. He pressed closer, his scent enveloping her. Intoxicating. No, there was no need for caution or second-guessing. It was time to just feel.

  His lips found her throat, the rasp of his jaw delicious torture against the sensitive skin.

  Ilythra pulled back. Erhard’s breath came in ragged gasps, his pale eyes unfocused.

  She reached for his hand. “I think you’d better take me to your bed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “You have beautiful hair.” Cassia lifted a strand of Ilythra’s long hair and coiled it, fastening it to her head with a crystal-encrusted pin.

  “Thank you.” Ilythra had been thinking of how she’d felt that morning when she woke up in Erhard’s arms. It had been comfortable. She’d felt no lingering desire, no regret.

  She wondered, not for the first time, if the rumors had already spread through the castle. The servant who brought breakfast to Erhard’s room had brought enough for two. Had Erhard been sure she would stay the night?

  “I wish I could see their faces,” Cassia muttered.

  “Huh?” Ilythra focused on the servant. “Oh, when they see the barbarian dressed as a woman?”

  Cassia laughed. “Something like that.” She stepped back. “Finished.”

  Ilythra stood up and spun in a slow circle. “Well?”

  Cassia looked her up and down. “Stunning, if I do say so myself.” A frown creased her brow. “Have you ever—I mean...”

  “Have I what?” Ilythra adjusted the heavy dress.

  “When you were a little girl, did you watch the adults dress and dance and wish you were one of them?”

  A feeling of loss surprised Ilythra. “No. I... My childhood wasn’t like that.”

  “What was it like? I know you said you were raised by your grandfather. Was he a good man?”

  It was so hard to remember the past or even think about the future. There was only the now. She struggled to capture elusive emotions. Safe. Happy. Loved. “Yes, the best.”

  “You said you had many tutors. Was he wealthy?”

  “No. I didn’t have any other teachers until I was grown. We were alone most of the time. On an island.” The memory seemed so far away. As though it had happened to another person.

  “Then he must have felt strongly about the life he chose for you.”

  No. I chose this life. Didn’t I? A house, husband, children. There was something she had to do first. But what was it?

  “Ilythra?” Cassia stood close to Ilythra, a strange look on her face.

  “Yes?”

  “I said it’s time to go down to dinner.”

  * * *

  Music drifted through the room, blending with the gentle hum of conversation and punctuated by an occasional laugh. A fire roared in the fireplace, and the smell of a feast lingered in the air. Tables, laden with food, had been pushed against the walls, and guests milled around them, sampling from their bounty. Hidden musicians filled the air with a lively tune. Couples danced across the floor. The color of their garments faded in and out as they wove through patches of light created by torches sputtering in their brackets. The light seemed smoky, heavy, failing to subdue the night. Ilythra wondered if it were symbolic. Perhaps winter would conquer their false summer.

  She spotted the king surrounded by a ring of colorful women and a few men near the tables. The familiar melody of Crioch sang along Teann. Bredych was present somewhere, but a quick scan of the room came back empty. Was he hiding? Ilythra adjusted her dress again. Who knew fabric could weigh so much? She moved through the finely dressed guests toward Erhard.

  “The flower has blossomed.” Ilythra turned to see Bredych at her side. He bowed his head. “It’s gratifying to see I was right.”

  Surprise, pleasure and anger mixed until she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. “Right?”

  “Yes. There is a woman under the disguise of a wanderer.”

  Anger won. “It’s not a disguise.”

  Bredych tilted his head, his eyes catching the light from a near
by torch. “As much as I would love to parry words with you, tonight is a night of celebration. Shall we dance?”

  “Dance? No.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  She looked him up and down. The white of his shirt stood in stark contrast to his dark skin and tunic. “Why would I be afraid of you?”

  He smiled. “Then dance with me.”

  Ilythra hesitated. She would not show weakness in front of this man. She nodded, and Bredych took her in his arms to lead her into the rippling crowd of dancers. Laughter and the hum of conversation faded as music swirled around her, blurring the other guests, leaving only Bredych.

  He led her in slow circles around the room, his movements controlled and exact but with an animal grace. They were fluid, well matched. His muscles contracted under her touch. She held something wild, tension barely suppressed, and the feeling sent a thrill deep in her body. She stiffened, and Bredych raised an eyebrow, a half smile playing with his lips.

  As the music faded, she found they were in a dimly lit corner of the room. Bredych didn’t release her from his embrace but pressed her body against his so she could feel every contour of his form. Her world narrowed to the hardness of his body, his scent filling her senses.

  He leaned, lips fluttering against her ear. “Can you feel it?”

  Her eyes widened and she pulled away.

  A smile broke across his face. “I like the way you think. We’re not so different, you and I.” He pressed his hands against her back, drawing her closer. “Can you feel the power, Ilythra?”

  The stones were very near each other. Her eyes fluttered shut. Tendrils of power wove around them—spirals of crimson and blue; they were intertwined, forever joined, infinite. She opened her eyes to the endless black of his irises.

  “You and I are not like these fools. Do you realize we could crush them? Bend them to our will?”

  Desire shot liquid warmth through her body. Her heart sped.

  Bredych ran the side of his face down her check to nuzzle at her neck. “I can smell your heat.” He pulled away, a breath from her face. “You want it too.”

  Her legs grew weak. For a moment she leaned into Bredych, tasted his power, knew it could be hers. And then, with her ebbing will, she pushed him away. “No.” She took another step back. “No. I’m not like you.”

  The light flickered in Bredych’s eyes as he reached out to touch her cheek, his voice barely above a whisper. “My dear, you don’t know who you are yet.”

  She turned and fled the room.

  * * *

  “Ilythra? Is everything all right?”

  Erhard rushed toward her down the bright hallway. All right? She’d never been less all right. Her mouth tasted acrid with disgust. She didn’t recognize herself.

  “I...” She faltered. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall.

  “Bredych said you didn’t feel well. You haven’t caught something from the villagers, have you?”

  Ilythra choked back a laugh with no mirth. “No.”

  He stepped closer, his fragrance wafting around her. She was so tired.

  “Ilythra. I think you’re working much too hard. It could be so much easier...”

  She gazed into his pale eyes, now darkened with concern.

  “I could make it easier, if you let me.” He enveloped her in an embrace. “I could take care of you. Protect you.”

  She hesitated and then leaned into him.

  * * *

  Ilythra threw the covers off her body, welcoming the cool night air. After she’d left Erhard, she decided to make it an early night.

  When she closed her eyes, it was Bredych she saw. Could feel his touch, the pressure of his body against hers as they swirled around the dance floor. She breathed deeply in an attempt to still her racing heart. He was a monster. He knew nothing of compassion or mercy. He...he... There was more, but she couldn’t seem to remember. And what did that make her? She shuddered.

  She stared at the doorway as her senses heightened. She could almost see him walking down the hall, visible only as he passed under the scattered light of the bracketed torches then melding back into the darkness. He’s coming.

  No, he wouldn’t dare. But she rose out of bed to retrieve a small dagger in her wardrobe. When she turned, Bredych stood in her room, outlined against the faint light of the dying flames.

  She stepped nearer, wondering just for a moment if he was a figment of her imagination, conjured by her thoughts. Then she caught his scent and her knees grew weak. With slow, measured steps, Bredych closed the gap between them, his face hidden in shadow.

  Ilythra circled, moving until her back was against the light. He watched her. Power surrounded him, ebbing, flowing, drawing her closer. Painted by the flame’s light, his face appeared to be carved of stone. Without thinking, she stepped nearer to touch his skin and with more strength and speed than she imagined he possessed, he grasped her hand and pulled her close. His other hand snaked around and closed on her wrist with a viselike grip.

  As if from a great distance, Ilythra heard the knife fall to the floor. She twisted, breaking the hold, stopping the instinctive blow to his neck with the edge of her hand brushing Bredych’s throat.

  He smiled.

  Her eyes locked with his fathomless gaze. A flicker of emotion rippled across Bredych’s irises as she lowered her hand. They stood, neither moving nor speaking. His breath warmed her skin. Power brushed against her like a caress. In slow motion, he reached to trace the line of her cheek, down her jaw to her mouth. She closed her eyes. Her lips parted and she heard a low moan before Bredych’s mouth pressed against hers. A tidal wave of need crashed over her as their combined power swirled around them. She reached to the back of his head to tangle her fingers in his hair and pull him closer, wanting to devour, as she was being devoured.

  Bredych’s mouth curved in a smile as he pulled away, his mouth trailing a line of fire down her neck that both warmed and chilled her flesh.

  Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled away. A half smile played at his mouth. His eyes questioned. There was something wild and untamed in his expression. She could never possess him, never conquer him. But he would come to her. The thought sent liquid fire deep into her body.

  Ilythra grasped his hand and led him to the bed.

  Chapter Thirty

  Blue light erupted, surrounding her in sapphire fireflies, brilliant against the night sky then falling, dying in the snow at her feet. She was cold. Mountains, lit by the radiance of vanishing embers, rose before her. Tall, insurmountable peaks stretched to the heavens all around. Ilythra shivered as the light changed, purple shadows mingled with blue in an ocean of light, then slowly separated into slivers of red haze.

  Ilydearta cut the palm of her hand, its light pouring between her fingers to dapple the icy ground. The haze fused into shallow streams and split as wavering ribbons, beckoning. Dizzy, Ilythra stepped forward, finding nothing beneath her feet. She fell.

  She gasped for air as the forms in her room coalesced into the familiar. Dawn peeked through the window, illuminating a strip of floor, warming the wood. She gazed, mesmerized by the woodgrain’s transformation when light caressed it to breathe shape and texture into the mundane.

  Her heart slowed as she grasped at the tendrils of her dream. What had it meant? She released Ilydearta. The dream had felt real, almost as real as when she walked the paths of Teann. Had she been? An acrid taste of dread lingered in her mouth when a wave of dizziness hit her.

  Bredych. The memories descended in rapid succession. She shivered as reality shifted; Ilythra scanned the room to ensure she was alone. That wasn’t a dream. Her fingers fluttered to her lips as though to affirm they were still hers. It was real. It had been her. Yet last night, she’d felt like another woman. She’d never be
en timid, but her wanton behavior shocked her now. It had felt natural, almost easy. She’d tasted power and decided she liked it. The passion had been fueled by the stones. Fueled, but not created. She shuddered, whether in remembered passion or revulsion she didn’t know and wouldn’t analyze.

  She shrugged off the blanket and stood naked in the dawn light. She needed a bath, a real one. But even the thought of luxuriating in a warm bath brought her skin alive with memory of Bredych’s touch. “By the Mother, get a hold of yourself,” she muttered. What is wrong with me?

  The water in the washing bowl was still frozen, and Cassia wouldn’t be in for quite some time with hot water. Ilythra broke the thin layer of ice. Just what I need.

  She splashed the icy water on her face then wet a cloth, scrubbing her skin as best she could and shivering in the cold room. But no effort could erase the shame, take back what had happened. Eyeing the clothes still lying on the floor near the fireplace where she’d thrown them, Ilythra shrugged on a dressing gown Cassia had ordered the seamstress to make. For some reason, she was hesitant to don the clothing, as though they’d somehow been responsible for her lapse in judgment. Erhard. It wasn’t like they had a commitment. But still, she knew the king wouldn’t be happy if he knew the day after she slept with him, she’d lain with his advisor. She might find herself out in the snow. Where she belonged.

  She’d become tainted. Wrong. So very wrong. She stared at her hands as though they didn’t belong to her. What have I become?

  * * *

  A layer of frost softened the churned mud on the path to the stables. As she neared the dark building, she breathed deep the scent of horses, hay and manure.

  “Well, you’re here early.”

  Ilythra turned to the head groom. “And good morning to you, Bosky. Is he...”

  Bosky nodded to the farthest stall then raised his eyebrows and mouthed, “King.”

  She began down the corridor toward Melior’s stall. Erhard was standing halfway down, scratching his horse’s muzzle. Ilythra hesitated. She’d expected guilt, but that wasn’t the emotion that coursed through her veins. As she approached Erhard, she felt waves of comfort, shelter.