While he was distracted by the lack of air in his lungs, she moved her shoulders back, pressing the man’s head down into her knee with a solid impact to his nose. He cried out painfully, his limbs becoming more languid than they’d been before. No longer was he even thinking about breaking free of her grasp. His thoughts were overcome by the need to breathe.
Content with her dominance in the match, she opened her eyes, still unfocused on anything specific. Lifting her arms, she released her hold on the man’s neck, reinforcing her right arm by clasping her left hand over her right fist, bringing her elbow up to strike again at his face.
His body fell to the ground with a dull thud in the sand. Blood flowed from his nose. It brought back painful memories of her own blood pouring forth onto her hands, soaking the little handkerchief that Zander tried to use to help her, staining the fabric of his shirt – but this was different. She had to remind herself. And as long as he was still conscious enough to groan and writhe about on the ground, the match was not over.
Finishing it would be a simple task, lacking in any need for further violence. Easily, she slipped around behind him, wrapping the chain over his head to allow her right arm to squeeze his neck. Sleep. Just go to sleep and this will all be over. She willed him to hear her thoughts, his fingers prying uselessly at her arm. Within moments, his body grew limp against hers, his arms flopping to his sides, head dangling heavily from his neck. Releasing her hold, she straightened her posture, rising back to her feet.
The man was out cold, lying still and almost lifeless there in the sand at her feet. She’d won. And the crowd was speechless. An occasional applause would start, only to fade out again after a few short claps. No one knew what to do. This was not the way the match was expected to go, and surely not the way it had been intended. Mikel made it very clear that his bets were placed on the man now unconscious, his blood staining the light colored sand of the ring.
“Well, that is deserving of an encore!”
Leyna could hear Mikel’s voice, closer than she expected, having left the chair at Oksuva’s side to make his way over to where she now stood. “I cannot prove myself at the archery challenge with my hands bound, sir,” she whispered, presenting her shackled wrists to him hesitantly. He glanced down at them, sneering, before spitting disgustedly at her feet.
“What good is an archery contest to me?” he asked. “So what if you can shoot a target on the other side of the courtyard. No one here wants to see it. They wanted to see a Vor’shai mangled in battle, but you made sure to ruin that for them all, didn’t you?”
She was confused. He was angry with her, yet she’d only done what was said to be expected of her by Oksuva. If her eye was not so swollen, she would have tried to catch sight of Oksuva from over Mikel’s shoulder, curious to see the expression on her face at the result of the match. Leyna had won. Wasn’t that what she wanted? What other choice would there have been? That man had no qualms with killing her there in front of everyone. He would never have shown the same mercy which she bestowed by sparing him.
In a quick motion, Mikel grabbed onto the chain connecting the shackles of her wrists, jerking her harshly to him. Fear gripped her at the look she saw there in his eyes. She’d never gotten used to the darkness that resided there, a deep void of blackness from end to end. If his eyes were any indication of his soul, then there was no hope of redemption for him from the tainted magic. It also meant that he lacked the capability of feeling guilt for anything which he might choose to do to her in his rage. An enemy like that was the most frightening. Unpredictable.
A shadowy aura began to envelope his hand, causing Leyna to shiver at the sight of it. She’d seen it before, back in Velorum, when her assailant utilized it to crush her lungs. Since then, she counted her blessings that such power had never been used again by any of their opponents in the war. It was impossible to know what a man like Mikel was capable of doing with it. He was much more powerful than that stranger outside the tavern.
Her one good eye was locked on the inky blackness creeping from Mikel’s hand over the sturdy chain. An icy chill covered the metal, freezing the skin of her wrists where it was in contact with her body. She could feel a pressure against her bones, as if the shackles were somehow shrinking, tightening painfully around her wrists. Don’t cry out. Don’t give him the pleasure. It was easier to think it than to hold back the agonizing scream building up inside her. He was crushing her.
The pain in her right wrist was beyond excruciating, pressing against her already injured bones from where her opponent had dug the shackles down into it. She couldn’t keep on her feet. Her legs wobbled, knees giving out under the strain. The only thing holding her up was Mikel’s strong hand still clutching the chain, his laughter ringing through the courtyard at the sight of her dangling there from his grasp.
Sharply, he brought the back of his hand across her right cheek, snapping her head to the side under the force. She wasn’t sure how much she would be able to take before the pain would send her into a faint.
His fingers gradually opened to release their hold on her, letting her fall in a heap to the ground. “Fight me, slave!” he shouted, playing to the cheers of the crowd erupting around them. “If the magic of your people is so superior, then show me. If you can somehow best me at it, then I will consider you worthy of serving my wife.”
“Mikel, stop this at once!”
Oksuva’s voice was drowned out in Leyna’s head by the sudden force of some unseen hand pressing her backward, knocking her to the ground. Her thoughts raced in her head. How was she supposed to fight this man? This evil creature whose strength she couldn’t even fathom. Faustine had trained her well in the art of the light magic, how to heal in the way of the Vor’shai physicians, and how to gain the favor of the living earth around her. But she knew nothing of what the black arts could do. Everything she was capable of and more, but with a twisted way of it.
She was being lifted back to her feet by the same invisible force which had taken her off them, holding her up in the air, her toes hovering over the sand. Mikel’s hand was extended toward her, still enveloped in that ominous aura. This was his doing. He was the puppeteer and she his puppet. How could she break free of a grip when she couldn’t even see what was holding her?
Think back on the lake in Tanispa. You were able to maintain control of the magic while faced with the fear of drowning. This is no different. She begged silently for the help of the gods, and her ancestors. Were they still with her? Or had they forsaken her in this damnable mission?
Nothing. She could conjure up no energy with which to fight back. The pain that racked her body was too great a distraction. She wasn’t skilled enough with the magic to manipulate it under such duress. She’d been wrong. This was nothing like the lake at all. When submerged under the water, she’d been comforted by the thought of knowing the spirits would guide her, that the gods would be with her, and if nothing else, she could have stood up, escaping the suffocating liquid. There was no comfort to be had here in this miserable courtyard, so many enemies with their eyes upon her, cheering at her pain, wanting to see her defeated – while her only ally was powerless to stop it without destroying them both, her other friends too far away to help her. They didn’t even know what was happening. She was alone.
In an instant, a bright flash of light surrounded her, breaking her free of whatever hold Mikel had on her. She dropped back to the ground, trying to break her fall with her hands. Grimacing in pain, she retracted her arms to her chest, clutching them there as she curled up into a ball on the sand. “I said that is enough, Mikel. I have seen all I needed to know that she is capable of the job offered to her, and I will not sit here and watch you torment one of my ladies.”
Kael was beside her. She couldn’t see his face, but she recognized his scent, his arms wrapping around her gingerly. “It is over, Eleni. You won.”
His whispered words brought no joy to her the way she thought they would. She felt broken. Vulnera
ble. There was no happiness to be had in the feeling of her spirit being crushed. Yes, she had won. But what exactly did that mean? She was still a slave. Mikel was still free to torture her in any way he saw fit. Her promises to Thade and Feolan were empty, and she hated it. She couldn’t guarantee the beatings would end. Everything felt utterly hopeless, and to this point she hadn’t learned anything worthwhile to her people in order for it to feel like it had been for a reason.
There was nothing for her to say. It hurt too much to cling to Kael’s comforting arms, leaving her there stiffly for him to embrace, unable to return the gesture. She wanted to leave. To send word to Thade to come take her away from this place and end her suffering. Her conscience would never allow it. She knew that much. Sleep, then. Even if it was in the darkened cage of the cellar, it might offer her some sort of refresh to her will. A defeatist attitude was unlike her. It had to be caused by the pain and frustration, which would pass in time. You won. Bittersweet were those words.
Mikel and Oksuva were still arguing loudly, their voices rising over the sound of the crowd. People were starting to slip out, dwindling the numbers to only a few who remained out of curiosity. It was only then that the true oddness of what happened sank in to her troubled thoughts. White light. Who had broken Mikel’s hold on her? Kael? He wouldn’t have dared. But then it left only Oksuva, whose mere association with Mikel had convinced Leyna of her dabbling in the darker magic. If that were true, then her own energy would have been tainted with the same darkness as her husband’s.
She felt her desire for answers somewhat renewed at the realization. There was more to that woman than met the eye. Could that have been the reason for the Vor’shai’s interest in her and her business? Everything about her was a mystery. Why had she married this man who hated those of her mixed heritage, and who dabbled in magic darker than her own? He was unfaithful, yet she still tolerated him. He was almost detached from her completely. Even now, while they fought one another, Leyna could hear no tenderness in her voice. No love. Only hatred. She spoke like a woman who despised the creature standing in front of her.
“Kael?” Oksuva said suddenly, turning away from Mikel’s reddening face at his growing anger. “Undo her bindings and take her back to her quarters by the kitchen. I will not have one of my ladies sleeping in the cellar. Tomorrow, you will take her to Siscal. Buy her a couple of dresses so that she will not look like a peasant at my side. I give you leave for no more than three days. I have a meeting coming up, and she will be properly attired and present for it.”
Siscal? Her heart jumped in her chest. To have her friends so close again. And if she was able, she could try to slip away to visit them. Kael would have to sleep at some point. But then, it was hard to say whether or not Mikel would insist on sending Yasar with them to oversee things. Sending her away alone with Kael would only serve to heighten his rage. All she could do was hope Oksuva would be able to overrule him on his desire to have them supervised.
A vacation was what she needed. A few days away from this place, and away from the constant fear of what would happen to her. And with Kael by her side. The familiar flutter in her stomach returned at the thought, distracting her from the feeling of defeat threatening to send her into a deep depression. She would come back from this. And in the end, she would get the information necessary to confirm any suspicions about these people. She wouldn’t let them break her. She was a Vor’shai, and nothing could ever take that away from her.
Leyna was amazed at the number of different clothing shops scattered throughout the city of Siscal. Never before had she found herself with any reason to seek them out. During the war, the standard issue uniform was the only clothing option she had, and upon her return, she’d been swept away by the mission before she could even think about shopping. Many of the stores were in areas of the city she had never set foot in, unaware they even existed.
Despite the coming winter, Siscal remained remarkably warm in the midday sun. Due to the severity of her visible injuries, she was forced to conceal herself under the cover of a thick cloak, the hood pulled down over her face protectively. Her right eye was swollen almost completely shut by now, though an improvement from when she’d first woken up the previous morning to begin the trip.
The marks from her opponent’s strikes left bruises over much of her skin on the right side of her face, the cheek and temple area turning shades of deep purple and blue, while the eye had deepened to black. Over the brow, distinct bruising revealed each individual knuckle from the fist which struck her, dotting the puffy skin. Scratches from the rough sand ran at all angles on both sides of her face and neck, her lower lip split open to the left.
She was a wretched sight. And her head felt about as her face looked. Pains of a migraine settled into her temples and all through the front of her forehead, trailing back down the length of her neck. Light strained her one uninjured eye, making it difficult to see where she was going. If it hadn’t been for Kael at her side, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to complete the task given to her by Oksuva.
Find a few nice dresses. Nothing too nice, though. She couldn’t outshine her mistress when standing next to her. Not that she would have been able to anyway, looking the way she did. Attention might be drawn to her, but not because she was any more attractive. People would be more curious about the horrible marks on her face. No one would care what she was wearing, so long as she was clothed. Their eyes would be elsewhere.
They had successfully picked out three dresses which seemed suitable for Oksuva’s taste. Leyna was impressed by Kael’s knowledge of women’s clothing, handling most of the transactions himself. He was a regular expert with sizes and measurements, keeping up the conversation with the sales clerks in order to divert their attention away from Leyna’s concealed features. Anyone who saw her would believe her wounds to have been caused by him. She didn’t want to risk those accusations.
Much of the day was still ahead of them. Kael had decided to take up the full extent of the time allotted for the trip, planning their departure for the later hours of the morning the following day, wanting to take advantage of every moment they would have without Yasar’s company. There was no need to rush back to Dalonshire when the weather here in Siscal was so lovely. She only wished she didn’t have to hide under the heavy material of the cloak, leaving her a bit warmer than she was comfortable with.
“Have you ever seen the Siscal palace? We are not very far away from it.”
How could she forget the sight of that place? It was ingrained in her memory forever on that fateful day. A day which Kael couldn’t be allowed to know about quite yet. “No, I have not. But I hear many wonderful things about it.”
“It is one of the grandest palaces in the world, next to the Tanispan palace, of course. Very little could ever top Queen Vorsila’s home,” Kael chuckled. “It is a sight to see, nonetheless. Let us walk there. The weather is far too perfect to spend the afternoon inside our rooms at the inn.”
The idea would have sounded enticing was it not for her fear of someone recognizing her. So many of her friends had become important figures within the Siscalian government. Queen Nesperiti may not have ever seen her face, but she had granted Teagan a place amongst her court. How many others from her old unit had been given the same honor? Not to mention the Consul and his assistant. The main street of Siscal was a risk to traverse for her. “Surely, there are other sights more interesting than the home of royalty? It is nothing but a building which reminds us how unimportant we really are in the grand scheme of things.”
“Nonsense,” he argued. “The palaces are works of art. You seem like the type of woman who would appreciate fine art.” His eyes gazed at her fondly. It was hard to tell him no when he looked at her like that. She feared he could convince her to do anything with those soft green eyes, staring into her own as if seeing the very depths of her soul.
If he could see into her soul, he wouldn’t look upon her quite so fondly. He would see that she was
lying to him about everything, playing off his ignorance, using it to her own advantage within the house. “It is not my decision to make,” she replied guiltily, lowering her eyes to avoid his gaze. “If you desire to see it, then we shall, but I would prefer not to linger there for very long. The heat is making me feel a bit tired.”
His face lit up at her submission. A sinking feeling built up in her stomach and even the smile on Kael’s face wasn’t enough to calm it. “A few years back, I actually had the pleasure of meeting the Lord Dhiren. There is rumor that Queen Nesperiti might accept him in marriage. As he is a Duke, his status is acceptable enough, and Siscal has been without a king for nearly two decades now. Nesperiti is desperate for an heir to the Lenrisa dynasty.”
“I do not know how the royal families deal with it all,” Leyna sighed. “The constant socializing, entertaining the court, maintaining relationships with the other countries and their governments – the never ending worry about who will take over the throne when they die, and who their children should marry in order to better solidify their position, wealth, and alliances. It is a miracle any of their marriages last. If my parents had ever told me they had picked a husband for me, I would have run away.”
Kael looked her over carefully, peering into the shadows of her cloaked face. “Arranged marriages are not as bad as people might think. They are business arrangements, and therefore they are upheld under that understanding. Children are made solely for the purpose of providing an heir. When that is all that is required of the relationship, they can spend as much time away from each other as they want, so tolerance is all they need.”
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 36