by Peace, Cas
The bluff man was troubled and said nothing about the conclusions she had drawn, but he approved of the extra journey on the morrow. He decided not to inform the King just yet of her findings, preferring to let Sullyan do that in person. He did, however, tell her about the news he had received from Vassa.
She was surprised. Two dead Roamerlings? And both on Lerric’s lands? Now where does this fit in?
She felt the general’s reluctance. Maybe nowhere? It could be an isolated incident, nothing to do with this.
I disagree. If Reen has indeed escaped his prison, who would he most likely turn to? And where was Sofira taken when she was banished from Elias’s castle? Who do we know who hates all alien races with a vengeance? Mathias, I hope you will warn Jerrim to be doubly on his guard. I will conclude my journey as swiftly as I may and return to the Manor. I hope I shall find and speak with this young lad, but I very much fear I have discovered the source of the blood found in the Baron’s rooms.
But why would he kill the boy, the only one who befriended him? asked Blaine.
Sullyan had no ready answer, but she intended to find out.
Chapter Twelve
It had been the hardest thing Seline had ever done to wait for Bessie to quit fussing over her and retire for her afternoon nap. The young girl spent the time concocting wilder and wilder theories as to what her mother’s letter contained. What was she planning? What would she require her daughter to do? How could Seline help her mother regain her crown? Despite her young age, Seline was under no illusions about what her mother really wanted. Sofira was a Princess of royal stock, and no one could take that from her. But to be a Queen—and High Queen of all Albia at that—was the ultimate achievement. Sofira would never accept her mother no longer merited the crown.
Finally, after a lifetime of impatient waiting, Bessie went to bed. Seline waited a little longer before cracking the door open and crossing the nursery. She peered into Bessie’s chamber, seeing the plump woman asleep on her bed. Satisfied, Seline returned to her room. Pushing her hand inside her muff, she extracted the folded parchment. Trying to calm her racing heart, Seline curled into her pillows and unfolded the letter.
My dearest daughter, you have been very clever in discovering the hidden message in my last note to you. I knew you would and I am very proud of you. Now I can speak to you without your father knowing, and I can tell you things he mustn’t know. But we must still be very careful, my bright and clever angel. You must burn every single letter you receive in this way. Do you understand? You must never keep even one, no matter how much you might wish to. I shall continue to write to you in the normal way, but it will only be of trivial things, things any mother might say to her daughter. But you are not just any daughter, are you, my love? And I am no ordinary mother.
So, Seline, to the point of all this subterfuge. The man who passed you this letter is a servant of ours. He has come to the capital to carry out our will, and to do this he may need your help. You need not fear him. I know he looks dreadful, but he is a faithful servant and will do you no harm. From time to time, we will pass him instructions and he will carry them out. You may hear of certain things happening that you will not like. I urge you not to think of them and to remember that in order for me to regain my crown, certain obstructions must be removed. I think you know what I mean. But do not fear, my brave Seline, we intend no harm to your father. Once he sees how wrong he has been, he will understand what I have done and we will all be together again, as we were before.
But for now, my dearest child, just be very careful. Look after your brother, but do not tell him of our plans. He is too young to understand. All you need to know is that I will be returning for you both very soon and we will all be happy once more.
Our servant may well contact you again and you may receive other letters or instructions. If you do, try to do as we ask as soon as you can. For now, my dearest daughter, farewell. And remember, burn this letter immediately!
Seline’s heart was in her throat. She found herself wondering who the “we” referred to. Clearly her mother had found someone willing to help her, and Seline was bright enough to doubt it was her grandfather, King Lerric.
Despite her mother’s urgent order and despite understanding the reason for it, Seline read the letter through twice more, searching for clues as to who the other person was. She knew Sofira wasn’t referring to the unwashed servant.
Dismissing the puzzle, Seline read the letter one last time. She worried over her mother’s reference to Eadan. She clearly didn’t know he had gone to the Manor, which meant her father hadn’t told her. Seline frowned, angry. He really should have told her! But that could be remedied. Seline could mention it openly in her next letter. She smiled and continued reading. She wanted to memorize every phrase. Once she was sure she had it right, she took the parchment to the fire and cast it into the flames. She watched it crisp and burn, a triumphant smile on her face.
+ + + + +
The Baron sent the younger of his two servants to find Sofira. He had some good news to tell her which he hoped would improve her mood. The strictures he had placed upon their time together and on the arrangements for their coming marriage were beginning to tell on Lerric’s daughter, and although she professed to understand the reasons for them, Reen knew she was far from happy. All this concern over her state of mind and the uncertainty of what she might do without his controlling hand upon her drained his energy.
Reen still suffered tremors of rage whenever he remembered the near disaster concerning her proclamation. On top of that, his servants had to work harder now to find suitable sources for their master’s renewal. It seemed the Roamerlings had discovered the loss of two of their race, and the itinerant outlanders had drifted away from Lerric’s province. The Baron suspected the disappearance of the Artesan among them must have seriously inconvenienced the troupe the man had led. And although his death had given Reen the knowledge and power to move his servants through the substrate if he chose, he wasn’t willing to expend the energy required on a regular basis.
So he had sent them out that evening with orders to find some tramp or beggar—preferably one that was whole and in reasonable condition—and bring him to Reen’s chamber. The strength received, although not as sustaining as that from a young, fit body, should nevertheless prove sufficient to enable the Baron to conduct his final experiment. And for that, he needed access to the substrate.
A footfall behind his door brought Reen out of his sadistic and pleasurable reverie. He dampened the fires of his desire and forced himself to relax his hold on the cane he gripped so tightly. It wouldn’t do to permit Sofira to see so deeply into him just yet. He would save that revelation for later.
“Come, my love,” he called. She had finally learned never to walk in on him, never to disturb him without alerting him to her presence.
The door swung open and she stood in the doorway, trying to see him in the dark. His eyes, so useless in daylight, were able to discern the aura of her presence and he saw her almost as plainly as if they hadn’t been damaged beyond repair by the terrible but fortuitous accident that had so transformed his life. He smiled wider to see her so hesitant. Finally, she was learning who was master here.
“Hezra?” She turned her head anxiously.
“I’m here, my love.” He moved forward so she could see him. The low glow of the embers warming his room cast deeper shadows into the corners of the chamber, and his black robes absorbed what light there was.
“Oh!” she gasped, half in relief, half in uncertainty. Despite his own decision not to reveal his true nature too soon, Reen was sure enough of his hold over her to let slip his disguise now and then. The glimpses she had caught of the gaunt scarecrow, intangible and dismissed as tricks of the poor light, nevertheless unsettled her. She was no longer so confident in his presence, and he was content she should feel so.
“You called for me?” Her voice was soft and hesitant. He moved closer and took her hand in his. The
aspect of the claw was replaced by a younger version and she clasped it warmly. He allowed a smile to permeate his voice.
“I did, my love. Come, sit by the fire. You’re cold.”
He knew that the gooseflesh prickling her skin, that made her so acutely aware of every touch of fabric upon her body and every movement of his against her, didn’t have its origins in the temperature of the air. Reen used his senses to play upon her as if she were some instrument made for his hand alone. Indeed, he reminded himself, he had been molding her long before he’d experienced the heady and dreadful power he now enjoyed.
Back then, when she had first become betrothed to Elias, he had decided he wouldn’t be left behind in this small, insignificant southern province. At first he had thought only to be her close and trusted advisor. Then, when Sofira prepared to leave Bordenn to become High Queen, Reen had so successfully persuaded her she couldn’t do without him that he thought some lucrative minister’s post wasn’t out of the question. But once at court, once he realized the possibilities inherent in his unique situation, he saw how low he had aimed. The office of Arch Patrio seemed a worthier and more fitting vehicle for his talents and far-reaching plans.
He had been well on the way to achieving that goal. How far could he have gone had he not been stymied, first by that imbecile outlander Rykan—whose uncontrollable lusts had overcome his better senses—and then by his archenemy? He couldn’t even bring himself to form her name within his mind. A hot flare of intense anger flooded him, his entire body flaming with a burning desire to wreak revenge. He trembled in every bone with the depth of his desires and felt his control begin to slip. He forced himself to turn away from Sofira lest she see the ruby glow of hatred deep within his damaged eyes.
“My love?” she faltered, sensing his struggle. “Are you in pain?”
With a huge effort, he controlled himself. He must be patient. He must be strong. Lay the foundations, gather the strength and the power. He wouldn’t fail this time. This time he would have his full measure of revenge and she would see he was her master. She would taste the bitter despair of his hatred and feel the hopeless yearning, acknowledging in the depths of her pagan soul the futility of struggle as she bowed before the fullness of his power over her.
But all in good time. Damping his rage, he turned to Sofira.
“Sofira, my dear, I have some very good news for you. Your clever daughter has fulfilled your expectations and my servant has made the first contact. We are on our way, my love. We have taken the first steps toward the restoration of your crown and your birthright. Soon you shall return to your place, and we will skulk in the shadows no more. There, my brave Queen. What do you say to that?”
“Oh, Hezra!” Sofira clasped both his hands in hers and brought them to her bosom. He could feel the heave of her breasts and smell the sweetness of her perfume. She gazed adoringly into his eyes. “I knew she wouldn’t let us down, she is such a clever girl! Do you have news of her, of Eadan?”
“I have no news, my love, other than what I have told you. My servant was instructed to deliver the letter only. But now that the Princess is alerted to our plans and the presence of my man, we’ll be able to communicate with her more readily. And maybe, once we are wed, we’ll be able to bring your children here, to be with us. Would you like that, Sofira?”
The Princess frowned. “Well, of course I would. But we’ll be going to Port Loxton, surely? I can’t be High Queen from here.”
Reen took hold of his temper. The sooner he was done with this farce the better. Until then he had to humor this woman, who could be so strong when surrounded by the power of the King, yet so weak and simple in her dependent trust.
“Yes, my love,” he said, trying for a patient tone. “Once our plans have come to fruition, of course you will rule from the capital. But we don’t know how long that might take, and I thought you might wish to have your children with you before then. I know how much you miss them.”
Tears came to Sofira’s eyes. “You are so solicitous, my love. Always thinking of my needs. What have I done to deserve such care?”
Nothing except be the vehicle for my needs! Reen thought viciously. Aloud he said, “Ah, my Queen, I live only to serve you, as you know. And if you return in some measure the love I feel for you, then I am repaid before ever we succeed.”
“You know I do.” Sofira moved closer and kissed his lips. The Baron permitted the liberty, although her kiss left him cold. He had never been overly tempted by women, although there had been times when he had taken what pleasure they offered. Later, he thought, once they were wed … But his tastes ran more to the exotic, and as Reen ran his hands over Sofira’s lean body, thoughts of young Serrin came to mind.
He compared the Princess’s angular form with Serrin’s gentler flesh. The young cleric had been just sixteen when they first began their physical relationship. Before then, the Baron hadn’t realized what the boy had been offering him. Reen had been too wrapped up in his own deep despair and vengeful hatred to have any room in his tortured soul for the feelings of others. But Serrin, drawn to this tormented man, had recognized the banked fires within him and gave him companionship without complications. Eventually, seeing the signs in the boy’s eyes and his soft, questing touches, Reen began to consider the possibilities inherent in their friendship.
Cautiously at first, and then with increasing confidence, Reen and Serrin explored the ways they could satisfy each other’s needs. Giver and taker, master and slave, they had existed together with no friction and each had found release.
The small smile Reen permitted himself in the darkness held something of genuine regret. Poor, simple Serrin. So stunted, so deformed in his soul. He had given his master far more than he’d intended, far more than he had even known he could give. Without knowing how, he had kept the Baron alive during the wrenching agonies of his horrific accident, had even helped Reen recover from the dreadful fire and the worst of his disfiguring wounds. And in the end, still without knowing what he did, he made it possible for Reen to achieve what his twisted heart most desired.
Almost—almost—Reen wished it hadn’t been necessary … but no. It was folly to feel thus. He now had the means of taking the only thing that could assuage the burning rage consuming his soul; the only thing that could give meaning to those long years of incarceration and humiliation. Serrin had made it all possible. Unwittingly—and unwillingly, at the end—he had surrendered that which his master needed and Reen took it without restraint, without compassion, and without a moment’s thought.
Shaking the memory of the agony, the ecstasy, and the blood from his mind, the Baron realized his thoughts had engendered responses in his body that had been noticed by Sofira. Still smiling that cruel smile, he decided not to disabuse her of her misconceptions. Time enough for revelations later. For now, he allowed the memory of the young boy’s gentle flesh to override Sofira’s clumsy caresses.
+ + + + +
Midnight came and went. Reen sat alone in the darkness of his room, gnawing at the fury in his heart. Why were they taking so long? Surely it was a simple matter to overpower some alley-dweller and bring him back here? There were many such on the streets of Daret, Bordenn’s tiny capital, as the Baron knew well. He had been the one to order the last cleansing of the slum districts some years ago, before he’d followed Sofira to Port Loxton. At the rate these half-wits bred, surely there should be more than enough to choose from by now!
Finally, Reen heard his servants returning. The anticipation of renewal, stirring and exciting him as it did, caused him to snap with more than his usual scathing anger when they finally arrived.
“Where the hell have you been? I could have died waiting for you two! And you know what that would mean for you, don’t you?”
They did. He had taken great pains to explain it to them after he’d first bound them to him. They were well aware that his goodwill and his unnatural life were the only things standing between them and a horrific death. They glance
d fearfully at each other.
“Forgive us, my Lord,” the younger one said, trembling. “But since the death of the town crier, the streets are patrolled even more strictly by his Majesty’s guards. We had to work hard not to be seen.”
“Lerric’s guards!” scoffed Reen. “Imbeciles, the lot of them. And they know you, for pity’s sake. Why should they suspect or detain you?”
He dismissed their tardiness as his eyes lit upon the captive they held. Gagged and bound securely, he was no more than fifty and he was in one piece. Weakened through lack of good food, maybe, but still serviceable. Reen had feared they would bring him some ancient grandfather with the palsy, or worse still, the wasting sickness. But this individual was still hale, still strong for life, and would fulfill his enforced role adequately.
Reen smiled at his two servants. “It seems you’ve redeemed yourselves once again. Your continued success ensures your continued life. Now put him against the wall and be off with you. Once I’m replenished, I have another, more difficult task for you. I suggest you get some rest and prepare yourselves. This next task is vital to my plans and I will brook no failure. Do you understand?”
They did, only too well. They bowed their heads and dragged their captive to the rings sunk into the wall. Once he was securely fastened, they scuttled from the room. Reen watched them go in amusement. He could afford the energy to be amused now he had a source of life force before him. Dropping even his scarecrow guise, which he kept up for the benefit of his two minions, who would likely have escaped even his control had they been able to see the reality of his terrible form, he advanced, grinning, on his captive.
The man took one look at the ruined flesh draping the ghastly skull before him and screamed. Even through the gag, the strength of his terror could be heard. Reen halted his advance to listen. He was fairly certain no one would hear the screams, gag or no gag, but he was disposed to be cautious, at least for a while yet. Once his marriage day was over, however ….