Sword of Darkness

by Kinley MacGregor

  Did she dare trust one of them?

  Did she dare not?

  Closing her eyes, Seren tried to wish herself back to her loom. She tried to convince herself that it was all a nightmare, but with each pounding beat of her heart, she realized that it wasn't a dream. This was her life, and those below fully intended to kill her.

  "I won't let you," she said aloud to the room. "Do you hear me? I am Seren of York, apprenticed to Master Rufus of London, and I will not be bested by the likes of you. I—"

  Am just a peasant.

  Those words ran around her head and taunted her. Mocked her.

  Aye, she was a peasant, but she was also a survivor, and she wouldn't let them best her. Ever. This matter was far from over. She would find her way home no matter what it took.

  Kerrigan didn't dare head back to the throne room. In the mood he was in, he might very well kill Morgen.

  Or at least try.

  At the end of the day, he knew he could no more kill her than she could kill him. They were at an impasse.

  Both immortal. Both powerful.

  Both hateful.

  But Morgen did have one advantage. She knew the source of his immortality while he knew nothing of hers. He had no clue as to what gave her her powers.

  She knew his weakness. And, to borrow an expression from centuries ahead, that pissed him off.

  Kerrigan gripped his sword as he materialized on the roof of Camelot. He sat at the highest point so that he could look out into the darkness of this land where he ruled. When he'd first come here, he had been ecstatic with his newfound powers and with the pleasure and riches Morgen had given him. She had taken him to her bed and had played to every desire he'd ever had.

  A callow youth, he'd grown to manhood here, under her callous tutelage.

  Morgen had shown him marvels the likes of which he'd never dreamed of. Dragons and gargoyles for his command. Willing whores for his every amusement. Planes that flew over skies filled with buildings that made a mockery of mountains. Magic that could turn them into any beast they chose. And sex so raw and blinding that he'd once feared it would incinerate him.

  In those days, he'd been an eager pawn for her.

  But those days had long since passed. Somehow he'd grown tired of this realm.

  Tired of Morgen and her childishness.

  "Why do you wish to rule the world?" Seren's voice taunted him from the mist of his mind.

  The true answer he'd withheld from her. "Because I am bored with this one."

  There was nothing here except a dissatisfaction that grew daily. That was why Seren was such a fascination to him. She was new. Fresh.

  In time she would grow as stale to him as this world. It was the way of things.

  "Get the table and kill her," he breathed. There was no need in wasting his time with any other thought. Like everything else in life, Seren was a pawn to be used and then discarded.

  Nothing more, nothing less.

  And yet even as those words flitted through his mind, there was some part of him that argued it. Whatever it was that had chosen her as the mother of a Merlin, it also made her far too appealing to him.

  Seren heard something scratching at the door. She sat up on the bed, clutching the fur cloak against her.

  "Seren…"

  She breathed in relief at the sound of Magda's voice. Scooting off the bed, she ran to the door, where she splayed her hand against the rough black wood. "Magda?"

  "Aye, my lady. Are you all right?"

  "Aye."

  "Are you alone?"

  She glanced over her shoulder to be sure. "I am. Lord Kerrigan left sometime ago."

  "That is bad, my lady. Do you not remember what I told you about seducing him?"

  "I remember."

  "Good. Now listen closely…If you want power over the master, while he sleeps, you must take his sword from him and hide it."

  Seren frowned. That seemed to be most dangerous for her to try. "What say you?"

  "Take his sword from him, Seren. Take it and—"

  "What are you doing here, Magda?"

  Seren tensed as she heard Blaise's deep, silken voice from the other side of the door.

  "I am checking on the lady."

  "Begone, vermin!" Blaise snapped.

  Seren struck the door with her hand. "Don't talk to her like that. She is a good soul."

  "And you are a fool if you believe it."

  Seren tried to open the door, but it didn't budge. "Where is Lord Kerrigan?" she asked him through the wood.

  "Wherever it is he wishes to be."

  She grimaced at his bland tone. "I want out of here. You can't keep me prisoner."

  "There's nothing to be done about that, my lady. No one enters or leaves the king's bedchamber unless he takes them in or brings them out. Not even I can venture there without his permission."

  "Are you his steward then?"

  "Nay. I am his servant."

  "How so?"

  "Seren?"

  She jerked around at the deep familiar voice to find Kerrigan standing behind her. There was an eerie dim light that seemed to have no source that cut across the angles of his handsome face. His black armor held a ghostly glow in the darkness that only seemed to heighten his size and aura of power. Against her will, her gaze dropped to his hip, where the black scabbard held the sword Magda had told her to steal.

  Her heart pounded. "I despise the way you just appear without warning."

  He glanced past her, to the door. "Your shift is over, Blaise. You may retire for the night."

  "Thank you, my king."

  She heard Blaise's footsteps fall away from the door.

  Kerrigan spread his hand out and a fire roared to life from the dead coals in his hearth.

  She blinked against the sudden brightness, and held her hand to shield her eyes.

  "It is late, Seren. You should be asleep."

  Her fur cloak turned into a thick, warm woolen kirtle that was lined with fine silk to protect her skin. She stared in amazement of the pale green color. It was beautiful.

  "I will not molest you tonight, Seren. Sleep in peace."

  She lowered her hand to find him staring at her with those penetrating, soulless black eyes. His black hair fell loosely around his wide shoulders and face, tousled as if he'd been in the wind. He held his hand out, and a great black throne magically appeared before the fire.

  She shivered at the sight of it and the effortless way he'd conjured it into being. He was intense and omnipotent.

  Even so, she refused to cower before him. "Have you any idea how upsetting it is to have no control over your life?"

  He took a seat on the throne that was facing the fire, but he didn't look at her. "Have you ever had control of your life, Seren?"

  "I…" she hesitated before she finally answered. "Yea. I did once."

  A stool appeared so that he could rest his long, mail-clad legs upon it. He crossed them at the ankles as he stared at the fire. "And when was this?"

  "Until you captured me."

  He snorted at that. "You had no control. You told me yourself that you were forbidden to even leave that paltry town without permission from your master."

  "It's not true. I am a freewoman. I had hope for my future. I had potential."

  He scoffed at her words. "Potential. A sad word, that. Have you any idea what it really means?"

  "Of course. It means that at any moment, things could improve."

  He shook his head, but still didn't look at her. "It is a word used by those above you to make you tolerate your present lowly status by hoping for something that will never be. There is no such thing as potential. It is only a lie peddled to imbeciles."

  She refused to believe his words. "You only think that because you had no potential," she whispered angrily. Then louder she said, "What happened to make you so cynical?"

  She wasn't sure, but she thought he might actually be stifling a smile. "Life, my lady. Sooner or later, it destroys the p
otential in us all. As we strive like ants dancing to the command of our queen, it passes us by while we dream of a better place and time. Then one day all too soon, you awaken to find yourself old and shriveled, still working for others while you have nothing left but memories of work and suffering. Your potential gone, it leaves nothing in its wake. Nothing but hatred and bitterness to accompany you to your grave. You may take your potential if it comforts you. But I know the truth."

  Seren had never heard anyone speak thusly, and in truth it made her heart ache for him that he had nothing to believe in. "And what comforts you, then?"

  Kerrigan grew quiet at the question. At first she didn't think he would answer, until his deep voice filled the emptiness. "Nothing comforts me."

  "Truly nothing?"

  He didn't look at her or respond as he stared into the flames.

  Even though he scared her, Seren forced herself to cross the short distance between them. She stood just behind his throne so that she could watch him. He sat there quietly as if he were made of stone while the fire crackled and danced. The air was thick with the scent of wood and pine.

  For some reason she couldn't even begin to understand, she felt a peculiar urge to brush at his hair. Instead, she clenched her hand into a fist and rested it against the back of his throne.

  "When I was a girl, my mother used to sing to me whenever I hurt. She would hold me close and promise me that one day I would have my own little girl to love. That I would find my place in the world and be happy. To this day, I think of my mother's voice and it warms me. Surely you had a mother."

  He gave a bitter laugh. "My mother was a drunken whore who couldn't abide the sight of me unless it was to blame me for her wretched state in the world. I assure you, I found no comfort in her mewling insults."

  Her heart ached for him. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to be hated by the woman who had birthed her. Instinctively, she reached out to touch him, only to have him grab her hand in a rough grip.

  "What are you doing?" he asked angrily.

  "I was offering you comfort, my lord." She grimaced as his grip tightened. "Please. You're hurting me."

  His black eyes bored into her. "That is what I do, Seren. I hurt people. Never let yourself forget it." He let go of her instantly.

  Seren rubbed her wrist where she could see a perfect outline of his handprint. "Have you ever tried being nice to anyone?"

  He looked back at the fire. "Go to bed, Seren."

  Before she could move or speak, she found herself lying in the bed. She tried to get up, but couldn't move. "I am not your slave, Lord Kerrigan. I am my own person."

  The next thing she knew, he appeared above her out of the shadows. His armor gone, he wore a loose black tunic and hose, with his sword still firmly buckled at his hip. The firelight flashed against the star medallion as it fell free of his shirt to hang in the empty space between them.

  He held himself above her as he stared down at her lips. He ran one cold finger down her cheek. "You are at my mercy, Lady Star. You are my slave."

  She shivered even though a part of her found his weight strangely enticing. "I do not toil for you and I am not your property. I am freeborn and I shall remain that way."

  One corner of his mouth curled up into a taunting expression. "And what of your apprenticeship?"

  It angered her that he threw that in her face. "I will pay Master Rufus back…eventually."

  He cocked his head as he studied her. He moved his hand from her face to the satin laces that fell from the neck of her kirtle. He took one in his hand and rubbed it between his fingers. "Why are you so defiant of me?"

  "Should I not be?"

  Kerrigan was completely dumbfounded by her. No one had ever stood so strong against him. Not even Morgen. She knew when she was bested and she withdrew.

  Yet here was this…servant girl. She had no magic powers. No alliances. She had nothing to barter with. Nothing. And yet she stood strong before him even though he scared her.

  It was inconceivable to him.

  His gaze dipped to her small breasts that all but disappeared while she lay on her back. There was nothing about her really attractive. Nothing except those vivid green eyes that seared him with her spirit.

  There was a warmth inside her that reached out to him even more than the fire in his hearth. In his mind, he could imagine her naked beneath him. Imagine her sighs of pleasure as he took her until the boiling need in his blood was fully sated.

  Those green eyes of hers taunted and defied him even now.

  "Kiss me, Seren."

  Still she didn't flinch or flee. "Is that a master's order to his slave?"

  One corner of his mouth quirked up into the first real smile he'd known in centuries. She was daring him. If he said aye, she would deny him. It was on the tip of his tongue to say so just to see her fire, and yet another part of him didn't want to fight with her.

  It only wanted to taste her again.

  "Nay, lady. It is a simple request from a man to a woman."

  "But you told me that you're not a man."

  He shook his head at her continued argument. "Kiss me, Seren…please."

  Seren held her breath at that one word she was sure this man never spoke. The reason inside her said to push him away, and yet she didn't dare to truly anger him. He could have his way with her, and she was lucky that so far he found her amusing and not annoying.

  What harm could come in just placating his one request?

  Her heart racing, she lifted her head up ever so slightly to place her lips to his.

  Kerrigan fisted his hand in the furs of his bed as her hesitant tongue swept against his. Cradling her head in his left hand, he laid his body down so that he could feel every inch of her body pressed against his.

  Aye, this was what he wanted. A warm woman to hold. A virgin mouth that had been tasted only by his. A guileless woman who spoke her mind without malice, slander, or fear.

  Most of all, a tender touch that didn't demand or hurt.

  All it did was soothe.

  Closing his eyes, he savored the rich scent of rose and woman as she sank her soft hand into his hair. She didn't pull at his hair, didn't nip painfully at his lips. She stroked him with a gentle, caring touch.

  He'd never before known the like. The newness of it haunted him. Touched him.

  Seren groaned at the wicked feel of Kerrigan kissing her. The swell of his groin pressed demandingly against her hip as he deepened his kiss. It was hungry and devouring, and it stole the very breath from her.

  His tunic melted from his body as he moved from her mouth to bury his lips against her throat where his dark whiskers tickled her skin. The coldness of his naked flesh sent chills over her even as desire heated her body. It was such a strange sensation—hot and cold clashing inside and out of her.

  He tasted so good and felt even better. She'd never had a man hold her like this. If she didn't know better, she might even think that he had feelings for her. But that was foolish. He knew nothing of her and she knew nothing of him. They were strangers and he held no feelings for anyone. He'd told her that.

  Even so, Seren trembled as she ran her hands over his naked back.

  At least until she felt the deep ridges on his flesh. Shocked by them, she opened her eyes to see the deep scars that bisected his back.

  "Who beat you?" The words were out before she could stop them.

  His eyes turning red, Kerrigan pulled back with a hiss as his black tunic reappeared to cover those scars. "Sleep, Seren."

  "But—"

  "Sleep or be raped," he growled in rage. "Decide!" The shout rang against the stone walls.

  That was a choice? Swallowing at his untoward anger, she immediately rolled over to give him her back.

  Kerrigan fought for control as he again faced the fire that did nothing to warm the coldness inside him.

  Take her!

  To what purpose?

  Aye, he could rape her. Or use a spell to make her we
lcome him even. But in the end, it would be nothing more than a passing amusement that could be found with any wench in Morgen's court.

  In the morning he would awaken with her blood on his sheets and body, and his loins would ache anew. He would still be restless.

  Nothing would change.

  Nay, that wasn't true. Seren would be changed. She would be violated, and the fire that burned so bright in her green eyes would be extinguished.

  Finally, she would be defeated.

  He didn't know why the thought of her being broken disturbed him so, but it did. More than anyone, he understood the pain of betrayal. The lasting sting of humiliation as others abused him while he could do nothing to stop them. There was nothing worse in this world or beyond it, and for the first time since Morgen had found him, he didn't want to lash out in anger.

  He wanted…

  Kerrigan paused as he realized he didn't even have a name for what he wanted.

  Returning to his throne, he looked to where Seren lay in his bed. She was ramrod stiff.

  "Relax, Seren," he whispered softly.

  She stiffened even more.

  A slow smile curved his lips in humor as he whispered a spell for her. Even so, she fought it until he forced her to sleep.

  Kerrigan shook his head at her as she finally relaxed and succumbed to his spell. He was beginning to see how it was that his little mouse would birth a Merlin. No doubt she would be the kind of mother she'd described to him. One who held her child to her bosom with love and not resentment.

  The babe's father wouldn't be some nameless man who had paid for her body and left his seed inside her to take root and grow into a despised abomination. Most likely the father would be someone she cared for.

  Someone she gave her most prized possession to.

  Untoward rage gripped him.

  The thought of one of the knights of Avalon inside her was enough to make his blood boil. They were mewling half-witted bastards who didn't deserve something like her.

  She was…

  She's a pawn.

  Pawns didn't matter in the game. Only winning did.

  Kerrigan let out a disgusted breath. What was wrong with him?

  I'm too idle.

  Aye, it wasn't in his nature to sit and do nothing. But he didn't dare leave her unattended. There was no telling what Morgen might do should he leave Seren alone. Growling, he rose from the throne to open the door he conjured to the side of his hearth.