"Never allow him to see you as you really are," the room’s other inhabitant warned.
Suzanna de Viennes smiled at Dearg Dul. "I would not be so foolish."
Dearg nodded sagely. Her cold gray eyes shifted longingly over the sleeping man before she turned her attention to the cup of tenerse that had been laced with the milk of one of the servant girls.
"He’ll not remember your touch," Suzanna said, a proprietary note in her voice.
"He will not, but I will."
"He’s mine!" Suzanna’s arms tightened around the heavily-drugged man.
"That he is, but I will hold you to our bargain, de Viennes."
Wild jealousy pricked Suzanna. Were it possible, she would slay the dead one and never have to share the strong, young body of the man in her arms again. She was now legally his wife, even though the name on the Joining Roll was not her own.
"Remember that one’s purpose in all this, de Viennes," Dearg warned, reading Suzanna’s mind. Her hooded gaze fell heavily on the other woman. "Cree’s punishment comes before all else."
Suzanna lifted her chin. "This one loved me well this night!" She shifted Raven’s inert body against her own and bent her head so she could place a kiss on his smooth brow.
" ’Twas not you he loved so well, de Viennes." Dearg chuckled; her laugh was like dry bones clanking together.
"In time, he will forget that Chrystallusian slut!"
"He will not nor would you want him to. As long as he believes you are his love and he is protecting you from Cree, you can control him. But the moment McGregor finds out you have deceived him, that you are responsible for the death of his woman, you will have him at your throat like a weretiger on a hare." She shrugged, and her tight gray skin rustled. "Such are the men of his clan. In that way, they are not that much different from the Crees."
"He’ll not find out!"
"You have best hope not, de Viennes." Dearg’s cadaverous smile was terrible to behold.
* * *
He was too warm when he awoke and used his feet to push away the covers. Sweat slicked his upper body, and he tried to raise his head only to find his lady’s hands buried tightly in his hair.
His cheek was pressed to her chest and all he could see was the light rise and fall of her stomach. "Miyoshi?" he whispered, hating to wake her.
She stirred and drew in a long breath, groaning as she exhaled. Her nails grazed his scalp as her grip loosened.
"Miyoshi?" he asked louder and smiled when she sucked in a horrendous snore. Gently, he untangled her fingers from his hair.
"Let her sleep, Milord."
Startled by the voice, Raven looked around to find a middle-age woman staring at him from across the room. He blinked, wondering how long she had been sitting by the window, and how she even came to be in the room.
He snatched his breeches from the bedpost and struggled to put them on, his face burning as he covered his nakedness. "Do you make a habit of entering a person’s room uninvited?" he grated, fumbling to button his clothing.
"I am Suzanna de Viennes, Milord Raven," she said as she pushed her considerable bulk from the rocking chair. "And this is my keep. I have the right to be here."
For a moment, Raven looked at her, the name she gave stirring to life embers of concern in his brain. When the flame of memory took hold, his mouth dropped open.
The woman walked to the bed. "I see you have heard of me."
With his heart beating furiously, Raven rolled away from Miyoshi, coming to his feet in a lithe bound, and looked for some sort of weapon with which to defend himself and his lady.
"Calm yourself, Milord." The woman stopped at the foot of the bed and folded her hands demurely at her waist. "I am not the ogress the Cree clan has made me out to be."
"You were in the asylum!" Raven’s gaze fell on the candlestick atop the night table. The candlestick looked heavy enough to cause damage should it be wielded against the portly woman. "Your own father locked you away."
"That he did, but not because I was insane." She pointed to the bed. "There lies the reason I was put in Baybridge."
Raven cast a quick glance at his lady. "What reason is that?" he questioned, edging toward the candlestick.
"To keep me from upending the apple cart."
"Apple cart?"
"Riain Cree and I were lovers. I was with his child when I was exiled."
Raven frowned, the words garnering his attention. He looked away from the candlestick. "I heard nothing of a child."
"Why would you have?" she countered, threading her fingers together. "The poor bairn did not survive my incarceration in that hellish place."
He flinched. "My sympathies, but what has that to do with—"
"Your lady? It has everything to do with her. Think you King Aidan would rather have me as his daughter-in-law or the lovely Miyoshi Shimota?" She smiled sadly. "Take you a good look upon me, Milord Raven. If you were the Chalean king, which of us would you want as a daughter-in-law?"
"They say you drugged Riain, seduced him with tenerse mixed with mother’s milk."
"That is what they say, but that is not the way of it." She looked at the carpet, her gaze demure. "He was drugged, but it was not I who administered the potion."
Raven wondered how Riain Cree, drug or no drug, could have bedded this hag, with her lank hair, slack flesh, and unsettling features. He shuddered as he looked at her mottled complexion and hooked nose. "I’ll not call you a liar, Milady, but I heard differently."
She raised her head. A single tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek. "I was nursing him through the Labyrinthian fever and he was not in his right mind, I fear. I was giving him small doses of the drug to relieve the symptoms. It is true the tenerse was mixed with milk. How or why this was done, I can not explain, unless it was meant as a cruel jest." She wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.
"A jest? For what purpose?"
"There were among my father’s retainers, those who often made jokes at my expense. Can you not see why?" Her lips trembled. "I was not a pretty child, and I am not a pretty woman. Women such as I do not fare well among the lush servant girls. Perhaps I was sterner with them than I should have been because I envied their prettiness. Perhaps they took my shyness for arrogance. Who knows? I suspect when they saw the way I looked upon Prince Riain, they must have howled with vengeful glee, for they knew he’d never look at me with anything other than loathing."
"And how was it you looked upon him?"
She shrugged in a fatalistic way. When she answered, her voice broke. "With unrequited love that turned my nights to sleepless tossing and my days to aching endurance."
"You fell in love with him."
"As I will love no other this side of the grave." She smiled tremulously. "Just as you will love no other than that lovely lady lying there."
He looked at his lady’s slumbering profile, and for a split second, he thought he saw Suzanna de Viennes lying there. He gasped, stepping back from the bed, but his vision altered and again he was staring at the creamy perfection of Miyoshi Shimota’s smooth shoulders and silky black hair. His exhalation of relief sounded loud in the still room.
"When it was learned I had lost my virginity to Riain," the woman said, drawing Raven’s eyes back to her, "my father made plans for a Joining between our clans. My father fully intended to see that Riain made a good woman of me."
"Even though Cree could not be held accountable for having taken you?"
"My father saw a way to be rid of me. He had no more use for me than did his retainers."
Raven shifted uncomfortably. She was staring at his bare chest and he scrunched his arms together. "And King Aidan’s untimely arrival halted the Joining plans," he snapped, reaching for his shirt.
"He had already betrothed his son to the Chrystallusian princess," she said with a hitching sob. "He meant to ally the two houses, and would have started a war with the Northzone had my father insisted Riain made an honest woman of me."
>
"I can not believe King Aidan would allow a pregnant woman to be sent to that hellhole. From all I have seen of the man, he is honorable and—"
"As ruthless as he is powerful. He did not know I was with child. No one knew. Not even I." She hung her head. "Until it was too late to do anything about it. By then, I had been in that foul place for several months. Hidden away like the dirty secret King Aidan believes me to be. His attacks on my character have been a calculated attempt to make the Crees look good and the de Vienneses grasping, connivers."
"Riain Cree fears you."
"What is to fear?" she asked, her face pitiful to behold. "A broken woman no man can look upon for long without turning away in disgust?"
"It is said you cursed him. That you—"
She flung a limp hand against his words. "My pride at work, I fear. Aye, I cursed him, for he hurt me when he spurned my love. But hurt him? Do harm to him?" She looked at him, pleading in her tearful eyes. "I love him. With all my heart and soul. How could I do harm to the man I love more than life itself?"
She sagged to the floor, her hands covering her face. Her shoulders shook with mighty sobs. Her pitiful keening unnerved Raven, and he would have gone to her if his lady had not grabbed his wrist.
"No," Miyoshi said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Raven was stunned at the fierce way she held his wrist and pulled him to the bed. He blinked with surprise at the strength in her slender hand.
The woman on the floor looked up, fury in her wet eyes. For a moment, Raven thought she was going to speak, for her ugly gash of a mouth opened in an obscene way. But then she snapped her teeth together with an audible click and pushed up from the floor, turned, and fled the room.
"Raven, stay away from that one!" Miyoshi commanded. She jerked on his arm so that he fell into bed beside her.
"Why didn’t you tell me whose keep this was?" he questioned. "When we were Joined last eve, where was the de Viennes woman? I don’t remember anyone but the priest and the two guards. Where was—"
"You heard her tale. If you were her, would you wish to be at the Joining of two lovers whose happiness shown brighter than the candles on the altar?"
He shook his head. "But—"
"Sleep," she said, her voice a stern demand.
Raven collapsed like a broken toy and fell into a deep slumber.
* * *
Suzanna de Viennes thrust her arm under Raven’s shoulders and rolled him toward her, pressing his body close. She rested her chin on his bright golden hair and glared at the chamber door through which Dearg Dul had fled.
"Am I really that hideous?" she asked.
Raven moaned in his sleep. She cooed to him much as a mother would a child until he was silent.
"Given the opportunity she would take you from me now that she has had a taste of you. But I’ll not give her the chance. I will have you both—you and Riain—and there is nothing to stop me!"
* * *
Dearg Dul threw the cat’s carcass into the corner and licked her dripping lips. Her long nails curled into her palms, drawing black blood to the impressions. Animal blood never sated her ever-thirsting need, and hunger still throbbed in her veins. The young man’s life essence would be sweet and pure and satisfying, but his throat was inaccessible—for the moment.
"Damn you to the Abyss, Suzanna de Viennes."
She drew her ebon robe about her thin body. Looking down at her claw hand, she shrieked with impotent fury, for the distended veins and liver-spotted flesh of an Ancient One had replaced the smooth, elasticity of the flesh she had taken on while impersonating Suzanna. Without sufficient Sustenance, the flesh would begin to crackle and parch like the Rysalian desert and shrink from the bone.
Scratching within the wall brought Dearg Dul’s attention to a rodent. But there were scarce ounces in the scurrying body and a goodly amount of Sustenance was needed now so the creature would remain hidden and safe.
With her hair beginning to bleach whiter than snow and turning wispy about her shriveling head, Dearg stalked from the room, her thin lips skinned back over fangs as sharp as a weretiger’s unsheathed claws. A humming sound came from her and the stench of the grave followed her as she prowled the corridors of Vent du Nord. In search of that which would ease her building hunger, she sniffed the air with distended nostrils.
There! she thought as the scent of warm, pulsing blood wafted to her from nearby. She stilled, cocked her head, then smiled. Rubbing together her bony hands in anticipation, she arched her neck forward like a buzzard and sidled closer to her prey.
The young girl never heard the stealthy approach of her death. She never saw the shadow that slithered up and over her, arms and fingers spread wide to envelope her. The last thing the servant probably felt was the sharp punctures driving deeply into her neck.
* * *
From the corner of the room, the boy child watched as his mother’s body lurched and twisted in the grip of a nightmare. He slapped his hands over his ears to drown out the slurping sounds. Even at four years old, he somehow knew the memory of the drained husk soon discarded at his feet when the monster finished would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Chapter 7
* * *
Three months had passed since Christine last saw her son. She was on her knees in the temple before the statue of the goddess, Alluvial, begging the deity to protect Riain.
"This is my fault," she confessed. "Had I left well enough alone, he would be safe. None of this evil would have touched him."
"That is not entirely true, Your Grace," a male voice said quietly.
Christine started, her gasp of surprise loud in the still temple. "Lord Atramentous!"
"Give me no titles, Your Grace. I am merely Atramentous." He joined her at the altar rail, glanced at the delicate statue, bowed in respect, then looked at the queen. "I have news of your son."
"What of him?" Christine took hold of his arm. "Did you bring him back to Binh Tae?"
"He is well." Atramentous placed his thin hand over hers in a manner of comfort. "As well as can be expected of a being in his position. And no, he is still at my keep. Your husband has returned. There was no more he could do."
Christine flinched and withdrew her hand. She curved her fingers over the altar rail and lowered her head. "I am a terrible mother. I brought this down on Riain’s head."
"Not so. You thought you were helping." He sighed. "Unfortunately, you were unable to change the course of events for your son."
Tears dripped onto the teakwood floor upon which Christine knelt. Her keening sounded eerie in the shadowed room as she gave in to her grief.
"Tears will not help him, now, Milady."
"You gave him the tenerse?" At his silent nod, her keening grew louder. "He can not exist without it now, can he?"
"Not and retain his sanity, no."
"And the changing?"
"Ah," the sorcerer said on a long sigh. "The Transitions. Those he will have for the rest of his life."
"Merciful Alel!" Christine doubled her fist and beat her breast. "What have I done? What have I done?"
"But there is good in this—"
"There can be no good in becoming a beast!"
"I came to tell you he will soon leave my keep at Chantilon and be on his way to Vent du Nord."
With wild, fearful eyes, Christine turned to stare at her companion. "By the gods, no! How can you allow that? She will murder him!"
"He is protected from Suzanna de Viennes. She can do him no further harm."
"She can take his life!"
Atramentous cast a quick, apologetic look to the statue of the goddess, then turned a stern visage to Christine. "He is already dead. You know this. The Dead One took his life from him even as you watched."
A shriek of agony pierced the temple as Christine collapsed to the floor, her arms wrapped around her upper body. Over and over, she groaned one word—"Riain." Even to her, the sound was pitiful.
"He is going aft
er Raven McGregor," the sorcerer said, his voice louder.
"I care not!"
"You will when you have time to come to terms with all this."
Christine lurched from the floor. "She will capture him and keep him with her in that hellish place!"
"She will try, aye, but he will free the McGregor boy or else slay him if he is too far contaminated with the evil that is steeped within Vent du Nord’s walls." Atramentous looked into the marble face of the goddess, but his eyes seemed to go beyond the gilded temple walls. "That evil has only tasted Raven McGregor and I pray Riain arrives in time to keep it at bay. The Serenian boy is salvageable."
Christine grabbed the sorcerer’s arm. "Is there a way to put my son out of his misery? I would rather he die than spend eternity as a beast!"
Atramentous turned his head. "He is beginning to accept himself as he is. Would you snatch away his existence because you are burdened so deeply by guilt?"
"She’ll never let him rest!" Christine shouted, ignoring his attempt to quiet her outburst. "He will forever be at her mercy, running from her. Is that not so? Answer me?"
"He will run from her until the day he makes the decision to stop. But to do that, he must decide to give up his immortal soul and he is far from that point!"
"Give his soul, Raphian, you mean?"
"Your son would never do such a thing. He must make the decision to hand his soul over into the keeping of the Gatherer, and that is an option I have not given him."
"I must stop him from going to Vent du Nord." Christine spun around, but the sorcerer’s hand grabbed her wrist. "Let go!"
"You will never see him again."
"Let go!" She dug the nails of her free hand into his flesh.
"Be still, woman!" Atramentous jerked her arm, bringing her to her knees. "Listen to what I am telling you!"
"No," she snapped, pushing at his hand.
"He will gain Vent du Nord and either free the McGregor boy or take the Serenian’s life. After that, he will flee with Suzanna and the Dead One hot on his heels. Their hatred of him will leap beyond insane vengeance when he denies them McGregor. Riain will dare not come back here for fear of harm done to those he loves. He will have to go through the Maelstrom and—"
PRINCE OF THE WIND Page 16