She took the cloth from Rowan without a glance and pressed it tenderly against Isaac’s head.
“Hold this, my love, and press hard.”
Rowan still wore the expression of a man whose world had been turned upside down. Yet his eyes were steely and unyielding; he was a man with a mission – and Talia knew what that mission was.
“I will tend to Isaac’s wound and then I’ll explain about Jenna. I’ll tell you everything, Rowan, I promise. She is on her way here and is being looked after. Trust me, please.”
It was shocking. Now Isaac was safe, her compassion and empathy flooded back, flowing powerfully through her relieved body that before had held room for only one thing. Isaac. Rowan stared at her as she and Abraham helped Isaac to his feet.
“My precious husband.”
“My precious wife,” he murmured as she raised her head for his kiss again, craving constant contact after their traumatic time apart. She was afraid he would vanish without her touch. His lips brushed lightly against hers as she stroked his cold bare chest…
“Bring my husband some clothes! Immediately!”
Fury surged behind her eyes, gripping her mind. Strung naked in this stinking, freezing dungeon… how dare they treat Isaac this way! Rowan spoke to the elders outside the dungeon and returned to stare unseeingly at her.
“Clothing is on the way, Talia. Tell me about Jenna.”
This was all about Jenna. Her poor bloodied Isaac, his life and manhood in mortal danger, all because of Jenna – and her. She had to remember this horror had been motivated by love.
“Talia, my wound will wait. I must talk to Rowan.”
Isaac’s eyes were haunted, and Talia knew it was not because of the barbaric treatment he had endured at her people’s hands. It was something even worse. Isaac had to tell a man in love about the horror that had befallen his wife and it would break both their hearts. Isaac was fragile, mentally and physically, and now he must do this terrible thing. He had to watch pain and grief consume Rowan’s eyes as he told him the terrible story of the attack on Jenna.
“Isaac, you’re bleeding and weak… please, this talk will wait.”
Isaac’s eyes were calm and focused, velvet-soft as they gazed into hers. “I’m fine, Wanwisa, I promise. I can see and think clearly. I need to talk with Rowan, you know I do.” She nodded reluctantly, and he kissed her forehead before turning to Abraham. “Have you brought Michael with you?”
Abraham nodded, darkness shadowing his eyes. “Oh, yes.”
Isaac nodded back in silent approval. No one wanted a battle today especially him. She felt the spirit of conciliation moving through his body. Her beloved husband was fighting for peace, fighting to save his relationship with her people – for her and for Cornicunia. He was right, this talk could wait no longer.
“And Jenna?”
Rowan stepped forward, his eyes wild at the sound of his wife’s name on Isaac’s lips.
Abraham’s eyes flickered towards Rowan. “She travelled in a carriage with Katrina, they should be arriving soon.”
“Jenna!”
Rowan spun around as if possessed by a demon, but Talia was too quick for him. She had anticipated this move. Get Jenna back, that was all Rowan was thinking, and she understood only too well. She caught hold of his arm fast as a lightning strike, devastating and unexpected.
“No, Rowan, wait, please. You must listen to Isaac first, please, trust me.”
Rowan paled. “It’s bad, isn’t it, Talia? I can feel Jenna’s pain but… I can’t reach her, can’t connect with her at all. Her powers are compromised.”
She stroked his arm. “Trust me, Rowan, please. You have no reason to hate any man in this room for they have only shown Jenna kindness. Please, listen to Isaac.”
Rowan became even paler, but he nodded his agreement.
“Talia.” Clyde appeared at the dungeon door, a small pile of clothing in his arms. He held it out to her, acknowledging her new role as Isaac’s wife. She smiled.
“Thank you, Clyde.”
She and Abraham helped Isaac dress, watched surreptitiously by the dazed-looking Rowan. He shook his head as she lovingly smoothed the shirt over Isaac’s bruised chest, the tender caress of an adoring new wife. Her love for Isaac would have been evident to a fool… and Rowan was no fool.
“What has happened here, Talia?”
She stared into his eyes. “Love,” she said simply.
Rowan shook his head again as her eyes locked with Isaac’s, silently pledging eternal love. She knew Rowan saw the truth but could not accept it yet. How could he? Talia, Lokian visionary, was married to the King of Cornicunia, in love with her captor and abuser. And he was in love with her. It was impossible for Rowan to understand as it would have been for her just a few short days ago.
They walked together to the communal area, Bernard and Clyde accompanying them. Abraham helped her support Isaac, her arm around his waist as he moved stiffly and slowly as if each step was an insufferable ordeal. As well as his head wound, there was deep bruising to his chest and legs and cuts all over his body. God only knew the extent of the damage inflicted by her people. Isaac’s breathing was still shallow and laboured; she was sure he had broken ribs. And such a terrible threat had hung over him, the amputation of his manhood… She shuddered and shot Rowan a poisonous glance, making it clear she held him personally responsible for Isaac’s fragile condition. Abraham smirked, openly enjoying her fierceness now they had Isaac safely back.
Isaac’s eyes widened when they reached the communal area. An enormous circular space, it was starkly beautiful. A large elm tree was rooted in the very centre of the circle, its branches bursting out of the roof, pointing majestically to the spirit realms above. The white stone walls and wooden floor were bathed in sunlight streaming in through the long windows, the unhindered view of the forest breathtaking. The space was used daily for group meditations, and spirituality permeated it, infusing it with peace and serenity. It was more than a building, it was a living, breathing thing with an otherworldly, ethereal aura. Abraham let out a long breath, and Talia knew he felt the spiritual presence. This was a Lokian church, a celebration of faith.
“Please, sit.”
Rowan gestured to the small groups of wooden chairs dotted around the circle, and they moved to the nearest at his request. All of a sudden you have rediscovered your manners, remembered you are a Lokian, peaceful and polite. She glared at Rowan as she helped Isaac into a chair, and the cloth slipped away from his wound. The gaping gash across his head was oozing afresh, his precious scarlet blood escaping.
“This talk needs to be quick, Isaac, your wound needs urgent attention. You,” she spat at Rowan, “should have acquainted yourself with the facts before abducting and brutalising my husband. You and how many men? Did I see six of you at the river? Against one unarmed man? You are not worthy to be called Lokians, fucking cowards all of you.”
Rowan flinched as if her words had physically attacked him, his eyes widening at her profanity. He had never before heard her swear and he was the cause of it. “That’s not fair, Talia, he has my wife! And I want her back. Now!”
“What happened to Jenna was nothing to do with Isaac, he didn’t abduct your wife.”
“But he abducted you.”
She flinched this time, his words slapping her hard in the face and twisting in her heart. Rowan was right, Isaac had abducted her. And Rowan thought he knew exactly what Isaac had planned to do, humiliate and debase her to demoralise her people. Who could blame Rowan for thinking that? Isaac had arrogantly abused his power as king, snatched her from her home with no regard for her feelings. Her people must have agonised over the horrors she was suffering, their imaginations conjuring up scenarios too barbaric to bear. And she had made their suffering even worse by deliberately closing her mind to communication. What were they expected to think was happening to her? Nothing but the very worst. She was desperate to tell Rowan the truth about her tender, loving husband and red
eem his reputation in her people’s eyes.
“You think I would willingly marry a man who abused me? You know me, Rowan, you know I would never do that. I have always been the most idealistic of us all. Isaac has treated me with great kindness and respect. I know you see and feel our love, you just don’t want to accept it.”
Isaac grasped her hand, and she sank to her knees beside him, her heart thumping with concern.
“No more, Talia, no more. You defend me beautifully and I love you more than ever for it, but I must talk to Rowan now.” He sighed and stared Rowan squarely in the face. “This will not be easy for me or for you.”
Rowan’s shoulders shook, the serene, spiritually elevated man she had known all her life shattering into tiny pieces. She stood and went over to him, taking his hand in hers.
“Sit, Rowan, please, sit and listen.”
She sat alongside him, and he clung to her hand as Isaac told the terrible tale. Rowan’s face turned grey and his body shook with suppressed fury as Isaac quietly outlined the events of the last few days, omitting the graphic details.
“What did he do to Jenna? How badly is she hurt?”
Rowan was determined to hear the truth, however terrible. Talia clung tightly to his hand as he trembled beside her, his grief and anger escalating. She had never seen such fury in his eyes or felt such violent tension in his body. Jenna’s pain had transformed him just as Isaac’s had transformed her. Her people were not perfect, not impervious to negative human emotions – especially when true love was at stake. These horrific events had deepened her understanding, and now she understood how atrocities could be committed and wars started in the name of love.
“Tell me, damn you! Tell me everything!”
As Rowan sprung from his chair, she refocused on the moment. This was not the time for musing on her spiritual enlightenment. Rowan was veering dangerously out of control, a volcano about to erupt whose scorching lava could destroy Cornicunia.
“Sit down, Rowan, please.”
She tugged gently on his hand, the future of Cornicunia teetering on a precipice again. If they tumbled from this vertiginous cliff there would be no way back, no route to safety, no path to take to save the fragile relationship between her people and their king. Isaac was singularly impressive, no longer the arrogant king determined to have his own way, but a silent, serene presence, waiting for Rowan to calm before he answered him. As Rowan sank heavily back into the chair beside her, Isaac closed his eyes, steeling himself for the moment of truth and the chaos it could bring. She knew he felt the fragility of his country’s future as profoundly as she did. She stared at his closed eyes, willing him to continue with calm, spiritual strength, and as his eyes opened, they locked with hers. Silent understanding flowed between them and sent a shiver surging through her soul; so much to look forward to, so many shared journeys to the spirit realms…
“Alright.” Isaac tore his eyes away from hers, reluctant to leave the wonder that lay ahead of them, but that glorious future hinged on his next few words. “Jenna was badly beaten, she has two broken ribs and severe bruising and cuts to her body and face. Her attacker stripped her and attempted to rape her, but luckily my soldiers heard her screams and intervened just in time.”
Rowan leapt from his chair with an inhuman howl of fury, the pain in his eyes terrifying to behold. The physical threat was directed at Isaac, Rowan’s muscles rippling, ready for attack. Her poor injured husband stared calmly into Rowan’s crazed eyes, his empathy and compassion obvious. There was nothing confrontational in his eyes or posture as he faced the demon Rowan had become.
“Where is this monster? Give him to me now!”
“Rowan, please! Just listen a little longer, please.”
She reached for his hand again undeterred by the demonic glint in his eyes. She understood. She had felt this pain and fury born of love.
Rowan’s shoulders sagged as he turned to her, his wild eyes brimming with despair. “There’s more?”
He was in turmoil, could not take much more – but he needed to hear the entire story.
“Please, Rowan, please let Isaac finish, trust me and trust him. I promise you he is the very best of men. You know I could never love a man who was not honourable and true. You know me.”
“The most idealistic of us all,” Rowan repeated her words as he took her hand again.
“Yes, and I always will be. Please, Rowan, trust Isaac as I trust him, he will not let you down.”
Rowan narrowed his eyes at Isaac but reluctantly sat down. Isaac took a deep breath, the twitching muscle in his cheek the only indication of his inner tension. Her husband understood the quiet power of serenity amidst the onslaught of a violent storm. She had never been prouder.
“We have taken care of Jenna and her physical wounds are healing – her emotional ones too, thanks to Talia and her tender support.” Rowan nodded, squeezing her hand gratefully. “We have castrated her attacker, punished him how you intended to punish me. It seems we agree on the severity of punishment appropriate for this most hideous of crimes.”
“You castrated him?” Rowan’s voice was full of wonder as if he were listening to a fairy tale and not a horror story.
“Yes, and after a period of suffering we intended to end his mortal life. If he still lives after the journey here, he is yours to do with as you wish.”
Isaac and Rowan stared at each other, silently bonding over their shared hatred of violence against women. Talia felt the universe shift and realign, taking new shape as their world was rebalanced, the relationship between the Lokians and their king changing forever. The universe had been irrevocably altered by the nuances of emotion flickering across the faces of two men, their connection changing everyone’s shared destinies. Cornicunia was now a land with a Lokian queen and the world was created anew for every action had an effect, impacted on all beings who shared this blessed planet. But there was little time to marvel at this miracle now. A subtle flicker of Isaac’s eyes indicated it was time to bring in the cause of all this trauma and discord – Michael’s virtually lifeless body. Bernard nodded at his king and marched away, rapidly returning with two Lokian men, dragging Michael’s body between them. He was unconscious with only a tenuous grip on existence, no visible signs of life. But Rowan cared nothing for his pitiful condition. In his burning eyes Talia saw bloodlust, the all-consuming need to rip Michael apart, obliterate his body, tear him into so many pieces it would be as if he had never existed and destroy all evidence of his life on earth. Abraham unceremoniously undid Michael’s bloodstained trousers before turning to her.
“Talia, you might want to look away.”
They had been so close to disaster, Isaac, Jenna – the people she loved most. This monster could have been their downfall.
“And I might not,” she said, jutting her chin out. Abraham nodded as Rowan let go of her hand and walked towards him, his eyes fixed on Michael’s hanging head. Abraham pulled Michael’s trousers open, and she gasped. Nothing. Never had the absence of something been so unsettling, just a neat, bloody gash where the skin had been stitched together, where his penis and testicles had been. Everything gone – and Isaac had been threatened with this horror, when she thought of what could have been. Her head spun, her body swayed, and she could stay strong no longer, the warrior was disintegrating and the terrified new wife taking her place. She could have lost Isaac, her destiny, her love. She crumpled and fell, but Isaac was there to save her before she hit the floor. He held her in his strong arms, protecting her, loving her. Her angel masquerading as a demon.
“He’s yours.” Isaac’s voice was flat, emotionless, the voice of a man who wanted this horror to be over.
“Take him out the back. I will rid the world of this monstrosity, this crime against nature, and ensure it never causes pain again. Then I can return to the peace of my life with my beloved wife.”
Everything was motivated by love. Rowan did not dwell on prolonging Michael’s suffering, all he wanted was to
return to his life with Jenna. Rowan would soon be with his wife again and together they would begin the long process of healing her pain. Talia was proud of him, of his honour and morality, his deep, true love.
And in that moment, she forgave his crime against Isaac. The spirit realms moved through her body, and the world shifted yet again. She shuddered as the men dragged Michael from the room, his trousers still open, exposing his nothingness, his deserved emasculation. She could not take her eyes off it.
“Talia?”
Isaac looked shocked, his eyes widening as she continued to stare.
“Michael deserved his punishment. If we abuse the gift of our physical bodies and use them to harm other beings, they should be taken from us.” The men’s eyes flickered over her and she stared back unapologetically. This was the natural order of things, the balance between the mortal world and the spirit realms.
“You are right, Wanwisa, as always. You are the wisest person I have ever met.” Isaac caressed her cheek, his eyes soft and searching. “Would you like to wait for us here?”
“No, I need to see this, for Jenna – for all womankind. It is the way it should be.”
Isaac nodded, accepting her decision without question. As he took hold of her hand, his body swayed and her heart leapt in fear. He was a strong, muscular man but at the moment he was alarmingly fragile. It was disturbing to see her alpha male husband so vulnerable.
“Isaac, your head ails you, I must tend to you at once.”
He squeezed her hand. “Soon, Talia, soon, my sweet. I’m fine, don’t worry.”
He was determined to witness Michael’s death, see this whole sorry chapter brought to a close. They walked to the rear of the village, out amidst the tall trees, and her eyes did not waver as Rowan beheaded Michael with Bernard’s sword. It was the warrior’s way to stare death in the eyes, a necessary completion to the traumatic journey her soul had taken today. Rowan did not speak, words would have been wasted, for Michael’s mind was no longer present in the mortal world. And now his body left it too, his twisted soul journeying to the hell such vile creatures were banished to. Rowan looked across at her as he raised his bloody sword.
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