Closing the door behind himself, he muttered a word to seal the room, but he didn’t bother to soundproof it.
“Did they remove your collar?” asked Layla immediately.
“No, I took it off myself,” he told her, letting his eyes range down her body. Layla was tall and muscular, covered in scars, but lovely despite it. He could see why Garlin had favored her for so long.
She followed his eyes, sensing the change in his intentions from the day before. “What did you wish from me, my lord?” Her head was tilted slightly down, allowing her to look up at him as she spoke in a slow voice. She put special emphasis on the honorific.
“I think you’re well aware of that already,” he said as he removed his leather jerkin, dumping it on the floor before piling his shirt on top of it. He wasted no time unbuckling his belt. It had been months, and now that he had resolved himself, he found his desire driving him.
Layla stepped close, kissing his neck and moving her lips upward to whisper in his ear, “What would you like me to do first?”
A grin spread across his face as he realized he was no longer bound by the traditional restrictions of the slave collar. In Ellentrea, sexual participants of opposite genders had to be careful, making certain to never bring the agencies of reproduction into direct contact. Experience and frequent practice had made them experts at alternate methods of pleasing themselves, but that was no longer necessary here.
Pushing her slightly away, he held her throat between his hands. With a word he activated the enchanted blades in his index fingers, “Hold very still.”
Layla’s eyes were wide with panic now, though she held perfectly still, “What are you doing?!”
With a moment’s concentration he found the correct spots, and then his fingers dipped inward, slashing the spellwoven collar apart. The female warden yelped slightly, but then looked at him with astonishment when she failed to die. After she finally relaxed and caught her breath, she looked at him, “Was that alright to do? I am not allowed to go without a collar.”
“You’ll stay inside until Lyralliantha returns to give you a new one,” he told her. He took the opportunity to sit down on the edge of the bed, removing his trousers.
Layla approached hesitantly, almost shyly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I feel naked—without the collar,” she told him.
She meant it in a different way, though. She was referring to the lack of imposed restrictions. She was uncertain now how to proceed. The only times she had had normal intercourse were the two times she had been bred, and neither had been pleasant.
Tyrion chuckled, “Are you nervous, Layla? How unusual. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Let me show you.” Reaching up, he drew her down onto the bed with him, and then he let his hands roam while his lips met hers. “I see Kate’s already warmed you up.”
She nodded, moaning as they kissed.
“That’s good. I didn’t think I could restrain myself for long.”
The first time was brief, and she screamed in fear as he began, a lifetime of conditioning was hard to ignore, but after that she relaxed. The second time was much more prolonged. He took his time, making sure to bring her to a loud and raucous conclusion.
He hoped Kate was paying attention.
Chapter 24
The next morning things returned to normal. He felt better, more relaxed than he had since bringing his children back from Colne. Layla had slept beside him, but he had discovered that once the more active part of their evening was over she had had no interest in cuddling. In fact, she seemed positively repulsed by the thought.
He had forced the issue at first, she was his slave after all, but after several minutes of holding a tense and obviously uncomfortable woman, he had relented. Spooning with someone who clearly didn’t want the attention felt like more of a violation than almost anything he had done in the past.
Layla was more than happy to repeat their performance that morning, eager in fact. She had no trouble with physical contact during sex, it was touching outside of that that bothered her.
Tyrion was strangely reluctant, though.
“What’s the matter?” asked Layla, encouraging him in a rather direct fashion. “You obviously want to.” She squeezed him once more.
“I need to get them started early,” he told her. “In another week they have to fight again.”
She stroked him again, using a lighter touch. “It can wait a few minutes. Would you change your mind if I asked Kate for permission?”
“What?!”
“Do you think I don’t know exactly why you came to our room yesterday?” she replied. “You wanted your redhead, but for some reason you couldn’t make yourself order her in here.”
“That’s ridiculous, she and I have never…” he paused before changing tactics. “If you thought that, why didn’t you say something last night?”
“I do as I am told,” she said, smiling slyly, “and besides, I was horny. It was clear you weren’t going to allow us to continue on our own.”
“I was irritated.”
Layla laughed, “I’m sure she is very irritated too.”
Tyrion sighed.
“You should have her come in here and take care of this, if you don’t want my help,” said Layla, sitting up.
“As you indicated, I think she’s a bit too angry for that.”
“So?” Layla raised one brow. “You are the master here. We live at your whim. Summon her, beat her if she is impudent. All of your problems stem from your strange reluctance to impose your will upon her.”
He shook his head, “You don’t understand. Kate is my friend. I have adapted to life here, but I could never do that to her.”
“Your friend?” she scoffed. “I have seen no sign of that. You just said that you and she had never exchanged favors. Take her, make her your friend. It is entirely up to you.”
“No,” he told her. “I don’t mean friend in the sense you do.” He struggled to find the words for a moment. “I guess you would say that we have been fools together, since we were much younger.”
“Oh,” said Layla, staring at him thoughtfully for a moment. “As you were with Garlin?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Similar to that. There’s never been any of this between us.” He made a wide gesture encompassing Layla and the bed.
“You are an odd one, Tyrion,” said the warden. “Just like she is. I have never seen two people so strange. I have watched you both, spying on each other constantly. She is just as obsessed as you are. I don’t understand why you had sex with those other women and not her. Did they force you?”
“No,” he corrected, “I forced them.”
“But not her?”
“I could never hurt Kate,” he replied. I love her.
“Perhaps you only like the ones who reject you.”
He had no good response to that.
***
He and Kate remained in an uncomfortable silence the rest of the week. Tyrion resumed training his children, and three more of them awakened their latent abilities as the days passed, Ashely Morris, Ian Collins, and Violet Price. Thus far he had nine being trained while three still remained ‘normal’ without any obvious sign of magical talent, Anthony, Piper and Blake.
He wasn’t sure if he hoped they would remain that way, or whether he would prefer for them to manifest the same power. The world of the She’Har was cruel, and it was far crueler to the weak.
But he could protect them.
If they remained powerless they wouldn’t be forced to fight, and while in the slave camps the fate of the nameless was wretched, that didn’t mean it had to be the case here. This was a new place, the beginning of a new city, one that would house the slaves of the Illeniel Grove.
They might be slaves in the eyes of the She’Har, but if I am in charge here, I can make their lives better.
He thought about those things constantly as he trained them. He was particularly harsh with the three who had
yet to be blooded. They were sometimes punished with the red whip, while he refrained from using it on the others. He only needed to nourish the hate in those who had yet to learn to kill.
That was what he told himself anyway.
He spent the most time with Brigid. She would be his weapon, his salvation, and someday, very likely, his executioner. Her eyes burned when they were upon him. He no longer needed to punish her, that was clear. She hated him with a passion that rivaled his own hatred for the She’Har.
But she needed more. The black haired girl had to do more than slay a stranger, more than kill an acquaintance, she had to destroy her best friend. Her experience was inadequate, and her resolve was nowhere near what it would need to be to do that.
“Again,” he told her. “Don’t hold back.”
Brigid showed her teeth, “Don’t tempt me.”
“That is precisely what I intend to do,” he replied. “I want you to fight with everything you have. Try to kill me.”
Her eyes lit with sudden inspiration. “Really, what if I succeed?”
“Then I will have made you into the deadliest mage in the world,” he responded, “and you will have to spar with Layla for the rest of the week.”
“She’s too weak,” observed the girl.
“You would have to be more careful with...,” he was sent flying as a surprise attack struck his shield with unexpected ferocity.
She had distracted him, and when she had made her move, she had gathered her aythar so quickly that he hadn’t had time to respond. She’s fast, he thought as his body hurtled into a pile of quarried stone for the building project. His shield almost broke from the second impact, and the sudden stop had rattled his brain.
Another attack before he had recovered his composure might do the trick, and if he wound up stunned from feedback, the girl really would kill him. He started to roll and summoned an aythar filled mist, obscuring both normal vision and magesight. Then he stopped.
She will be expecting me to keep moving. He considered activating his tattoos, to create a shield she couldn’t break, but the thrill of danger excited him. Brigid was strong, she was fast, she was a real threat. He wanted to beat her on even terms.
Or perhaps he truly did want to die; even he wasn’t certain which was the truth.
The mist swirled as her will moved through it, her aythar reaching for something. Then the stone blocks began to fly, tearing through the mist with incredible velocity. There were too many to be dodged, that was the point. Several of them hit his shield, and he was sent tumbling once more.
Lying flat on the ground to minimize his chance of being struck again, he renewed his mist, and then he opened the ground beneath him, letting himself sink several feet before closing it over his head. He had barely gotten beneath the surface when he felt her aythar moving outward along the top of the ground forming a faint latticework.
He smiled inwardly, she was using his old trick, creating a thin pattern of aythar across the ground to detect an opponent she couldn’t see or sense directly. He had been about to do the same, to track her position, but he held back. If he were to do so now she would find him.
Instead he turned his power inward, using it to heighten his hearing and slow his heart rate. He had taken a deep breath before the soil covered his head, but he would only be able to hold it for a limited amount of time. He intended to make the most of it. She won’t stand still, I just need to wait until she’s close enough.
He waited, listening to the slow beat of his heart and straining his ears for the sound of her steps. For a time there was nothing, and his lungs began to burn. He had been under for a few minutes already, and without air he would have to emerge soon. Doing so before he found her would be bad. She would know his location the instant he disturbed the surface, and she would be ready to attack as he made his way up and out.
Then he heard, or rather felt, her faint tread. Which way? In the darkness it was hard to be sure. Another step and he had the direction. She was approaching from his rear, but she was too far for him to ambush her as he had hoped. Trying to guess the distance from the sound of her footfalls was too hard. She might be ten feet or even thirty. That sort of accuracy was inadequate for a surprise attack.
An idea came to him then. Sending his aythar out through the earth, he punched a large hole in her lattice some twenty yards away in the direction he had heard her steps. He was guessing that that would be far enough to draw her attention in the other direction, away from his current position.
A split second after that, he exploded upward, using his magic to thrust himself skyward. A massive surge of aythar accompanied her attack on the location of his distraction. It also gave away her precise location as his thinning mist parted. He struck, quick as a viper, sending a focused pulse of power at the place she was standing, facing away from him now.
Adrenaline and excitement made his attack stronger than it needed to be. It was strong enough to break her shield, and it retained enough power to strike the back of her head with dangerous force. Brigid fell, her body completely limp.
He had won.
No! What have I done? In a panic he ran to the unconscious girl. Blood was trickling from her right ear. “No!” he yelled, unable to contain himself.
Some of the others had been watching their fight from a distance. As the mist cleared they saw him, and a cry of alarm went up among them. Abby ran toward him, while Ian and Violet ran to the house to find Kate and Layla. David and Emma remained where they were, watching in shock.
“What happened?” asked Abby, near panic herself.
“I went too far,” he said, never taking his eyes off the dark haired child in his arms. Unbidden tears sprang from his eyes as he cradled her. His magesight was exploring, but his emotions made it difficult to concentrate.
Brigid’s eyes were wide, unfocused. The pupils were huge despite the bright sun beating down on the two of them. Her heart still beat, but it was weak, unsteady. It skipped a beat as he watched. Seconds later it skipped again, and then it stopped.
“Is she breathing?” asked Kate urgently. She had just arrived and was kneeling beside them.
“What have I done?” he moaned, a keening note rising from the back of his throat. “Please no, no…” Then he felt her heart beat again, resuming its uncertain pace.
Looking up, he saw Layla standing nearby, a troubled look on her face. Kate had her hand under Brigid’s nose, feeling for air.
“She’s still breathing, Daniel,” said Kate. “Can you tell where she’s hurt?”
“It’s her head,” he said, his voice thick. “I did this. I did this.” His body began to rock as his emotions swept reason from him.
Kate stared at him, worried. She had never seen Daniel like this. Once, when his dog Blue had been killed, he had been close, but he was beyond that now. He was distraught, as though he might dissolve into uncontrollable tears.
“Daniel, listen to me,” she said, putting more calm into her voice than she felt. “She’s still alive. I know you can heal some things, but not if you lose control of yourself. You have to focus. Take a deep breath. Is there anything you can do?”
His vision was blurred beyond hope of seeing, but his eyes were useless for this anyway. He nodded, squeezing them shut. He let out a shuddering breath and then took a fresh one, filling his lungs completely. Calm, he thought.
Slowly he sent his awareness outward, refining his magesight to bring Brigid’s body into sharp resolution. Her heart was still beating, it skipped now and then, but there was nothing wrong with it. Searching her skull, he found it was still intact, the bones were sound, but something wasn’t right. The blood came from a ruptured artery on one side, but the blood leaking from her ear was the least of it. Farther in another artery was bleeding into the space between her brain and her skull. The blood was expanding, putting pressure on everything within her cranium.
He had lots of experience with blood vessels. Fresh hope brought renewed strength, and he found
it easier to think, easier to focus. Quickly he repaired the artery, not merely sealing it off, but matching it up properly and restoring the proper flow. It was delicate work, but not difficult. He had dealt with far worse, in other parts of the body. After that he repaired the vessel in her ear canal, to stop the blood leaking there as well.
Tyrion paused then, thinking, observing. Brigid’s breathing was still shallow, and her heartbeat was irregular. She hadn’t improved. He had seen blood left in the body before. The body would absorb it slowly, but it would take days, weeks. That much blood would be there for a while, and meanwhile the pressure would remain for some time. What would that sort of bruising do to her brain?
I’ve got to let it out.
Clenching his jaw, he drew his will down to a fine point, using his aythar to create a small hole in her skull before opening the membrane beneath it. Blood began to run down her scalp, dripping into his lap.
Kate let out a soft gasp.
“It’s alright,” he told her. “I’m letting the excess out.” His voice was much smoother now. Action had helped him regain his composure.
Once the blood had drained, he closed the skin but left the small hole in the skull open. Any additional blood could drain into the area beneath her scalp, to prevent any more pressure from building up. Brigid’s heart rate seemed to have returned to normal, and her breathing was deeper now.
“She’s going to be alright, isn’t she?” asked Abby, still standing close by.
Looking around Tyrion could see that all of them were gathered nearby now. He met Kate’s eyes, uncertain how to reply.
She read his look and spoke for him, “She’s alright. We’ll take her inside and let her rest. I think she will recover.”
After a short discussion, Abby used her power to gently lift Brigid’s limp form, levitating her sister a few feet above the ground before guiding her toward the house. They placed her in Tyrion’s bed. The entire household was crowded into that one room for several minutes before Emma took the initiative and began ushering them out.
The Silent Tempest (Book 2) Page 23
