by Jessi Gage
Riggs had never known such pain. Bull and Reddick had sliced the rope from his wrists only to bind them with iron manacles. The manacles were welded together, forcing his wrists to make an X. A heavy chain ran from the manacles to an eyehook the size of a cart axle which someone had screwed into a thick wooden beam in the rafters. It was from this chain he hung, his feet barely touching the dirt floor, his bare back against a wall of damp black stone. Manacles on his ankles prevented him from kicking his persecutors. He was strung up like a gutted boar, and he was minutes from losing consciousness.
A few more ounces of blood, a few more burns from Bantus’s hot irons, and he’d pass out. Then Bantus would no doubt turn his attention to his other “pets,” the women he’d heard in that other cell. Judging by the filthy mattress atop a pallet against the other wall, Bantus entertained himself in even more despicable ways with the women.
He had to hang on. For as long as he could. As long as Bantus played with him, he wasn’t hurting a woman.
If only it weren’t so blazing hot in this Danu forsaken dungeon! A fire crackled happily at one end of the high-ceilinged room. That was where Bantus liked to heat his irons. He also had a pot of water heating over the fire. Riggs cringed at the thought of what he planned to do with that water once it was boiling.
Let it be me he intends to scald, not any of the women.
Exhaustion had his head hanging. Sweat burned his eyes. The oppressive heat tempted him to give in to the dark oblivion of unconsciousness.
Bantus’s bare feet moved in front of his wavering vision. What torture did he have in store for him now? Whatever it was, he’d grit his teeth and take it. To spare the women, he’d take it.
By the moon, he hoped Anya was safe with King Magnus right now, that she’d never know anything even half as dismal as this dungeon.
He raised his head to look Bantus in the eyes. “Hope you’ve got something worth my time, you piece of royal shite. Stop playing around with tickling me.”
Bantus grinned. “Oh I’ve just begun, Maranner. I wasn’t speaking idly before. I’ll have you bowing to me and calling me Your Majesty before morning.” He paused to stroke his beard. “I think it’s time to start pulling teeth. Myre. Bring the tongs.”
Myre brought the tongs.
Bantus squeezed them in a snapping motion inches from Riggs’s face. “Do you know the best way to break a man’s spirit? You’d think it would be to take his stones. Not so. First, you remove his teeth so he can no longer eat meat. Then his tongue so he can no longer take bread. Then his hands and feet so he can no longer work. That is how you break a man. We’ll see how far I get before you swear fealty to me.”
Fear flooded his mouth with bitterness. But determination puffed his chest. “I’ll never swear fealty to you. You’re a blight on the face of the Earth. You’ve brought your country to ruin, and you destroy all you touch.” He mustered enough strength to spit, hitting Bantus square in the chest. It would likely be the last victory he ever knew.
Bantus’s face darkened. “Bull, hold his head.”
Danu, give me strength. Send help for the women. Take care of Anya for me.
* * * *
As soon as the guards carried Anya through the iron door, she kent where she must be. The room in the dungeon where Travis had heard men and women carrying on. Old cells had been converted to tupping chambers, complete with fancy beds and couches done up with fine linens and bedfurs. Curtains could be drawn for privacy. Tapestries hung from the walls, making the stone room a warm and comfortable retreat. Oil lamps filled the space with soft light.
Neil paced before one of the open cells, listening to a man in a red plaid with black, clubbed hair. The unfamiliar man stood near a bed and rubbed the back of a stately woman in an emerald silk dressing gown like the one Anya had on, but trimmed with lace. The woman sat on the bed with her arms crossed. The robe gaped enough for Anya to glimpse the blond coat covering the woman’s large breasts. The three seemed to be having some sort of conference.
“Here she is,” stated the guard holding her. “Where do you want her?”
The man and woman looked up.
Neil stopped pacing and faced her. His mouth made a grim line.
“Och, I’m no’ a bloody piece of furniture. Put me down, ye great oaf!”
The guard huffed and set her on her feet. Her legs nearly didn’t hold her, but she gritted her teeth and locked her right knee, taking all her weight onto her stronger leg. She gripped the gemstone in her hand. “What have you done with Riggs?” she asked Neil.
His jaw worked. His forest green eyes burned with anger, but she had the feeling it might be directed at the other man, not at her. “You’re about to find out,” he bit out. “I’m sorry, lady. I wish there was another way.”
“Another way for what?”
“Is this supposed to be the female Magnus was to take as queen?” The woman stood from the bed with liquid grace. She was almost of a height with the dark-haired man, who was shorter than Neil, but likely of average height for a wolf-man. She cinched the satin belt of her robe and slinked past Neil to frown down her slender nose at Anya. “Doesn’t look like the portrait to me. I thought she’d be taller. And prettier.” Her emerald eyes roved over Anya’s scars.
The dark-haired man came up and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about her, Di. She’ll be gone soon. No one will sit on the second throne but you, and you’ll be there tomorrow. I vow it.”
Di must be short for Diana. This was the youngest wolf-woman. Travis’s mother. And the dark-haired man must be Ari, the man who thought to take Magnus’s throne. Tonight, it seemed.
“I’ve heard of you,” Anya said to Diana. She looked at her flat belly. “I thought you’d be with child. Aren’t you supposed to be the most fertile woman in the world? How long has it been, eleven years since you’ve had a bairn?”
Diana’s hand flew. Neil caught it before she could slap Anya.
“You’ll not raise a hand to her,” he growled. Turning sad eyes to Anya, he said, “She’ll face enough violence at Bantus’s hands. Promise me she’ll be the last.” He looked to Ari.
“She’ll be the last,” Ari said. “We make our move tonight. Then it will all be over.”
“You’ll get those women out of Larna once you sit the throne?” Neil spoke of the human women.
“As soon as possible. Once we have the loyalists under submission, there will be no need to keep Bantus as an ally.”
“There’ll be no reason to keep him alive,” Neil said with a decisive nod.
“What are you waiting for?” Diana said, sidling up to Ari. “Contact Bantus. Personally, I’ll be surprised if he accepts this latest gift. Maybe you shouldn’t count on him coming through tonight until he sees those scars.”
Diana spoke as if they meant to give her to King Bantus, as if they’d given other human women to Bantus in exchange for an alliance with Larna. But how could such a thing be possible? How was Ari here when he ought to be in Larna? Her understanding had to be faulty. She squeezed the gemstone. Mayhap it wasn’t working properly.
“He’ll come through.” Ari pulled a jagged blood-red gemstone from his sporran. “By the power of Hyrk and for his glory, open a door to Bantus the Terrible.”
A red light expanded in the air before them and began swirling. ’Twas like an angry sky given motion and turned on its side.
Anya jumped back from it only to find herself engulfed by the arms of a guard. “What the bloody hell is that!”
No one answered her. The swirling madness continued to grow until it was oval-shaped and large as a door. The center of the oval became a shimmery surface, like a gently rippling loch. An image of a man came into focus. A very tall man with long pale hair. He had on a plaid in some dark color—’twas difficult to tell because of the red tint. He was facing away from them, but half turned with a look of surprise on his face. He held some sort of tool, as if he were about to stoke a fire. Dark liquid had spattered his hands and arms.
Diana rolled her eyes. “By the moon,” she muttered, nudging Neil’s elbow with hers, “I hope Bantus takes her.”
Neil ignored Diana. He was glaring into the oval, grinding his teeth. Somat had him even more angry than he’d been.
Ari started to address the man in the oval, but the man spoke first.
“Bad timing, Ari. I’m busy with the new pet you sent me. Come back later.” The man’s voice was so deep it made her skin crawl.
“It’s time for you to honor your bargain, Your Majesty,” Ari said. “Gather your two hundred men. I open a door to your great hall in exactly one hour.” Aye. This was Bantus the Terrible, the king Riggs hated with all his being, the one who had abused wolf-women and been defeated by Magnus, the one descended from the vile King Jilken.
They meant to give her to this horrible man.
Fear gripped her insides. She pushed at the guard’s arms, but he held her fast. “You’re all mad!” she yelled. “Let me go!” She did not want to go into that red oval. The guard clapped a meaty hand over her mouth and held her so tightly she couldn’t even bite him.
In the oval, Bantus shifted, revealing another form behind him. A large man strung up by his wrists. A man with dark liquid dripping from his downcast face. A man with black curly hair. Riggs! That’s where he’d gone! He was in the hands of Larna’s king!
Had Ari sent him through this oval earlier? Was he even alive? The way he hung, she couldn’t tell. Och, she couldn’t tell.
She screamed and thrashed, to no avail. She had to do somat, but she was completely helpless. Where was Magnus? This was his bloody keep. Didn’t he ken this wickedness was going on beneath his feet?
She looked to Neil, but he avoided her eyes. He turned from the oval and resumed his pacing. You did this! she wanted to shout at him. You gave your own kin to that monster!
“You said the coup would take place after the lottery drawing,” Bantus said. “That’s not until next week.”
“It’s in two days, actually,” Ari said. They bickered like fat bloody hens while she struggled with the guard. “But I intend to be on the throne by tomorrow morning. Magnus has found out about our arrangement. He’s gathering his supporters now. We must act swiftly or risk being outnumbered. Your new plaything can wait.”
Bantus handed the tool to someone out of the frame. He stroked his beard. “Well, my new pet has just passed out on me. And after only a single pulled tooth. Tsk, tsk. I had higher hopes for this one. I suppose I can finish breaking him after the coup. It’ll cost you, though. What do you have for me?”
“You mean besides Magnus to hang from your beam before sunrise? How about this?” Ari dragged her from the guard’s hold and pinned her to his chest with an arm across her throat. The constriction prevented her from giving him the verbal lashing he deserved.
Bantus eyed her scars. “Someone’s played with her already.”
“Yeah. Your own men. This is the one the Maranner behind you found while trespassing on your land. Isn’t that right, Neil?”
“Leave me out of this,” Neil growled.
Bantus raised his eyebrows. “Trespassing?” He turned and punched Riggs in the stomach so hard it shook the chain he hung by. Riggs didn’t react.
Agony ripped through her to see him abused so. She tried to call his name, but Ari’s hold choked her.
“You’ll pay for that, Maranner,” Bantus told her unconscious pledgemate. “No one trespasses on my land. No one. No one steals women from me.” His voice rose until it broke. He was mad. Saints above, Riggs was in the hands of a madman, and she would be soon as well.
Och, enough. Rage surged though her like boiling water. She turned the gemstone in her fist and gouged it into Ari’s forearm.
He released her neck with a shout.
She spun to face him, snatched his cock and bollocks and gave a wicked twist. Tried to wrench them clean off his body, she did.
He yelped and doubled over.
Before she could do more, the guards were on her, pulling her off him.
“Riggs! Riggs, wake up!” She fought the guards until she could see into the oval again.
Riggs didn’t move. This was intolerable!
“Magnus! Help! Help!” Remembering Valeworth, she screamed, pushing her voice as loud as it would go.
“Silence her!” Ari shrieked, and a guard clamped a hand over her mouth too quickly for her screaming to do any good.
Ari’s face was red. He couldn’t stand up straight. ’Twas the least he deserved. She hoped he never stood straight again. Diana rubbed his back now, staring daggers at Anya.
Framed by the oval, Bantus was bent double too, but not in pain. He was laughing. Joyously.
“Rumor has it these two are lifemates,” Ari ground out. “If you really want to break him, you’ll mate her while he watches.” He glared at her as he said it. Payback.
Neil stormed out of the dungeon. Coward. He was war chieftain. If he wanted to put a stop to this he could.
“But it’ll have to wait,” Ari said, hands on his knees. “Two hundred men. In your great hall. One hour. Once I hold Magnus’s crown, you get the female, and you can play to your heart’s content.”
“Send her now or you get nothing from Larna.” Bantus’s eyes gleamed with excitement.
“There’s no time,” Ari snarled.
“I want her now.” Bantus stamped his foot.
“Your word you’ll gather your two hundred.”
“Just for that last sight, I’ll make it two hundred five and twenty.”
Ari nodded at the guard. Before she kent what was happening, she was shoved into the oval. She fell. And fell. Too far. Then she hit a hard floor.
The air changed. It became suddenly moist and sweltering hot. Sounds of a fire crackling filled her ears. Large hands hauled her up.
Stunned by the fall, she blinked and met a pair of eyes so pale they reminded her of snow. Bantus.
He inhaled, then grinned, showing a lot of tooth. “Freshly bathed. Perfect. Reddick, put her with the others while I gather my generals. Myre, make the bed and wake up the trespasser. Bull, come with me. As for you, my new pet,” he said to her. “I will be back shortly. I have only an hour before I must go to battle. If you sate me well, I will bring you back the head of a king.” He kissed her scarred cheek and handed her off to another man. Terror had such a hold on her she could think of no retort.
As the second man carried her from the dungeon, she peered over his shoulder at Riggs. He raised his head an inch, enough that she could see how badly his face had been beaten, enough that she could see blood staining his lips. His nostrils flared as he inhaled. He opened his eyes and fixed them on hers.
Then a doorway blocked her view.
Her heart pounded. She’d found Riggs, but they were sorely outnumbered. They were prisoners. Pets. At the mercy of a mad king.
The man carrying her, Reddick, unlocked a barred door, put her on her feet, and nudged her through. She dug in her heels, but it only earned her a shove that made her fall to her hands and knees.
The door closed behind her and Reddick stalked away, leaving her in a cell smelling of piss and stale blood and lit only by the meager light coming from that cursed dungeon room. She couldn’t help it. She began to cry.
“Hush, now, lass. It’ll go worse for you if ye let them see your tears.”
She started at the soft, alto voice. ’Twas painfully familiar. “Seona?”
A gasp. “Anya? Is that you?”
“Aye.” Her voice wavered.
Arms went around her, more slender than she remembered, naught but skin and bone.
She wrapped her arms around her sister’s skeletal body. Her heart rent to feel the bones of her ribs, the
bumps of her spine. She cried harder, needing to squeeze her sister tight, but afraid to hurt her.
“Hush, Anya, hush,” Seona whispered frantically. “I meant what I said. You doona want to show them tears.”
She gulped back her sobs and brought her galloping heart under control. Pulling back, she gazed into her sister’s eyes, lighter brown than her own, but the same shape. They were sunken and rimmed with purple shadows. Poor Seona was starving.
She touched her sister’s face, assuring herself she was real. Her fingers found a rough patch on her cheek.
Seona’s hand clasped Anya’s to her face. “It’s his mark,” she said, her eyes sad. “We all have it.” She motioned behind her, and Anya noticed at least a dozen sets of eyes fixed on her and Seona. The human women. She’d found them. She’d found her sister. And she was powerless to do aught about it. “You’ll wear the mark too. He’ll brand you before he tups you. It hurts like bloody hell, but it’ll heal, Anya dear. It’ll heal.”
Did she mean the branding or the tupping? Anya shivered. There were some things that never healed. She feared these women were scarred in ways that had naught to do with Bantus’s paw-print brand. Judging by the way Seona dropped her gaze when she tried to offer comfort, she was more broken inside than her pride would allow her to admit.
Anya was going to kill Bantus. For Seona. For the other women. For Riggs. She didn’t ken how, but she would find a way. If it took the rest of her life, lived out in the squalor of this cell, she’d bloody well find a way.
Chapter 24
Anya sat on the cold stone floor arm in arm with Seona. The woman with her forehead pressed to hers was her sister but not. Her eyes darted nervously. She refused to speak of the horrors Anya feared had been visited upon her by their mad captor. She would only answer the most rudimentary questions, and even then, ’twas like baiting a hook and reeling in each bit of information a word or two at a time.
Roughly half an hour had passed since Reddick had put Anya in this cell, and all she’d managed to learn was that Seona had been lured from the bawdyhouse in Thurson by a man matching Ari’s description. “Told me I’d belong to a great king. I’d never have to work again. Ha!” She’d begun laughing hysterically, and the cackling had raised the hairs on Anya’s arms even as it rent her heart in twain. None of the other women paid Seona any heed. Or Anya, for that matter. Chained in their own thoughts, or divorced from all thought. Hard to say which.