Myina was surprisingly gentle in spite of her severe looks. “My husband used to come back with injuries like that,” she said once she had finished. “Till he never came back at all.”
“You had a husband in the army?”
The tall woman smiled weakly. “Aye.
A lieutenant. They’re all cut down in the end, those fighting men.” She went quiet for a moment, so Artemi squeezed her arm in reassurance.
Myina straightened. “It is in the past now. Time for you to bathe, child.”
Why did they have to keep calling her child? She wasn’t that young! She followed Myina to the bath and climbed in gingerly, never having used a proper one before. The hot water was wonderful; it smelled incredible! “May I ask why you are supervising my
ablutions?”
“Because, child, we must ensure you do not try to escape. That is, until we know we can trust you.”
Oh, wonderful. Was she allowed to use the toilet alone? Speaking of which... She ignored the urge and examined her captors.
She could have taken all three of them on, easily. Artemi began soaping herself and, at that point, the three women had the courtesy to turn around.
With her ablutions complete, her new attendants led her to the large mirror in the corner of the room. Her reflection looked back at her inquisitively. She had never liked the way she looked: hair a ridiculous colour, eyes too dark, nose too long and pointy, jaw too wide. She could have continued to list her faults, but
doing so only made her unhappy. The king must have been quite desperate for women.
Carinnah pulled out a collection of materials which looked like paint, and then took out a thin, black pencil and leaned towards Artemi. She held the Artemi’s eyelid in a curious manner to begin drawing on it. What in Blazes were they doing to her? And where was Morghiad? He should have been here by now! She hated having to be rescued at all, especially when she was perfectly capable of saving herself, but fighting off the king and running meant breaking her army oaths. And breaking her father’s heart. Calm. She had to stay calm and plan her escape.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pull on her hair. Just wonderful, now they were going to arrange it into some overly
complicated knot-work all around her head. She would be teased relentlessly by the other men for this, if she wasn’t executed first. Primping and preening finished, she examined herselfin the mirror. They hadn’t done too bad a job on her hair, and it had turned out looking more natural than she had expected. The small star flowers in it looked acceptable, almost. Carinnah had thankfully kept her paintwork to a minimum, which meant Artemi only looked a little bit like a doll. But the clothing, if you could call it that, did not please her nearly so much. She wore two white items and both were utterly sheer. The first was a short, asymmetrical slip, edged in rough lace. Only the waist was opaque, where it cinched in snugly. The second item was a long sort of dressing gown, open at the front with long
sleeves. “AmI to walk through the castle like this?” There was no way she could run unnoticed with her entire body on show!
Tialain said, “No, child. You will wear a proper gown until you are in the ceremony room. The king would not have other men admiring what belongs to him.”
Well that was some form of relief.
The blonde woman continued. “You must learn the words for the admission now. And you must learn of your duties.”
Artemi’s stomach churned. Morghiad had to get here soon.
The kahr opened the letter and read its contents again. Whatever did his father mean by, “...experiences that make a man, a man?” Morghiad dreaded to think. But when the king ordered him to go somewhere at a certain time, he had to do as he was told. Army business was another matter altogether. He hitched his sword belt round and placed the letter back inside his coat. He’d rarely been to this section of the castle before, and he doubted that many people had. It was the very darkest heart of the citadel, buried deeply in the middle of its
winding tunnels. There were some cells here: these were the ones reserved for the most hardened of criminals.
Morghiad entered one of the larger rooms that turned off from the corridor. It looked as if it had once been used for administrative purposes, but had since been forgotten about. He waited there for a few moments, considering the dark corners and curious damp smells. A tall man in a black coat that brushed the floor walked in. The kahr did not know his name, but he recognised him as one of the prison guards. These men were not of the army, and therefore not under his control. He had always felt some suspicion of the castle’s interior prison guards; no one really knew what they got up to down here.
“If you will follow me, my lord?” The
tall man smiled toothily and limped from the room.
Morghiad stepped after him. The prison guard walked curiously quickly given his awkward gait, and even the kahr, blessed with long legs himself, had some trouble in keeping up without running. Eventually they came to a room full of empty, barred cells. The guard motioned the kahr in. “If you will just wait here, my lord?”
Morghiad nodded. What was all this about?
He heard a key turn in the lock behind him; the guard had locked him in the blasted cell corridor! He ran to the door. “Why have you locked me in here? I demand to know.” Anger touched his voice.
The prison guard’s rough tones came
through, though they were somewhat muffled. “King Acher’s orders, my lord. Don’t worry. It won’t be for long!”
Long? Locked down here? What had the king discovered? “How long? And why?”
“You’ll soon see...” the guard’s voice drifted away.
Morghiad kicked at the door. It was solid as a rock; nothing would move that. He went to assess the barred cells. Some of them had doors to other cell corridors on the other side, but all were locked. The kahr checked the bars for corrosion or weakness. Each one seemed perfectly strong. He was trapped like a rat. What he wouldn’t have given for a wielder! Morghiad folded his arms and leaned against the wall to think. His men would come looking for him eventually, or Artemi would miss him,
and she was headstrong enough to poke her nose into every door without permission.
A pair walked into the cell corridor parallel to his. He straightened and assessed them before asking for help. As they came into the lamplight, he realised that one was a woman. She was being held by the other man, clearly a prison guard. A second man followed them in, and the three of them stood in the cell before him.
“What is this?” Morghiad demanded.
The woman was quite pretty. He recognised her from somewhere, but could not quite place it. Her hair was muddied and looked to have been a dark shade of blonde at one time. Her eyes were a very bright blue. She struggled against her captor. “They’re going to kill me!” she shouted. “Stop them, please! I
haven’t done anything wrong, please!”
Morghiad looked to the second man. Bedraggled hair dripped down his forehead. He didn’t look as if he had washed recently.
“What is her crime?”
The guard smiled with menace in his narrow eyes. “This was one of the king’s prized benay-gosa. She committed a heinous act of treason. She rejected our beloved king and caused him grievous harm in plotting her escape.”
The woman cried out, “He forced me! Every week he would hit me, every other night he would take me and...” she started to weep. “The king should face execution, not me. Please, I just want to leave here, please make them stop.”
Morghiad gripped onto the bars of the
cell. “This woman does not deserve to die. Free her.”
The greasy prison guard smiled. “The king’s orders supersede yours, my lord. Her life is to be terminated, and you are to watch it happen. Now.”
So that was it. His father wanted him as audience to an execution. He wanted Morghiad to think of women as he did.
The benay-gosa’s captor shoved her to the ground and held her ther
e with a booted foot.
“Stop this, now.” He knew they would not listen, but he could not prevent the words from leaving his mouth. “She doesn’t deserve this!” He shook at the bars invain.
The other prison guard raised a curved blade above his head, and struck down at her
neck. The woman’s cries were quelled instantly.
Morghiad sank to the floor as the two men departed, and the black blood began to pool before him. He stared at her body for a while, trying to make sense of what had been done. Death came to everyone eventually, and this had been quick and clean. Morghiad had seen a great many slow deaths in his career. Was his father right to do this? Had he been wrong in trying to protect Artemi?
His head spun. He felt sick to the stomach. Right or wrong? He did not have to agree with his father on everything, but the old man had always had Morghiad’s best interests at heart. He pulled out the letter again. Of course, it made complete sense now. His father thought he was weak, an embarrassment.
Perhaps he had hoped his captaincy would toughen him up. Morghiad crushed the letter tightly in his fist. He felt... anger.
It poured out of the undercurrents of his mind and dominated his features. He allowed it to fill his body with rage, allowed it to take over completely. It felt almost as good as the Blazes coursing through him. The kahr reached through the bars of the cell to the head of the benay-gosa. He pulled it close and looked deeply into her still open, glazed blue eyes. They still spoke of fear and they still cried injustice at him. He felt it keenly. “Never again,” he whispered to her frozen face. He laid the head back on the ground and stood, making for the door. “Alright. You’ve shown me whatI need to see. Now let me out of here.” He hid his anger from his voice with
impressive control.
A key turned in the lock and Morghiad poised himselfto attack the guards outside. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.
The faces of three prison guards met him as the door swung open. He could have slit all three of their throats before they knew what was happening, but something stopped him... something quieted his anger. Morghiad later wondered if it was reason or lessons learned from his time with Artemi, or perhaps an unconscious knowledge that he was needed elsewhere. Whatever it was, it lifted his bloodlust almost as quickly as it had come upon him.
He did not like leaving these men alive, but a voice in his head whispered to him that he had to. The kahr turned instead and stalked
free of the prison tunnels, anger still roiling over in his mind. He clamped his hands behind his back and paced down the corridors of the castle towards the stables. A ride on Tyshar would be the only thing to clear his mind now. He needed to leave everybody and everything that troubled him, then he could plan. He would find a way of preventing his father from recapturing any women that escaped. Perhaps those prison guards could be used somehow... Morghiad climbed the last set of stairs that led to the main courtyard. It was as quiet as the castle tombs. That was odd. Where were all the guards? There should have been at least three pacing the perimeter. There would have to be words with Hunsar about misdirecting duties. He doubted his men would shirk their roles, since so many had displayed
such fervent dedication. Surprisingly few soldiers frequented the servants’ cellars following his reforms, though it was likely due to Artemi that they had stamped on that hunger. She had a very strange effect upon the men.
He looked up to the sky. It was past midday already. Time could vanish in an instant in those black tunnels. Morghiad approached the box that held Tyshar and began readying his saddle. Where was everyone? Poor guard distribution would only weaken the castle’s defences. He felt his anger surge again. A young soldier in green and black came running towards him.
Morghiad tensed. “Finally! I was wondering where you all had gotten to!”
The young man appeared flustered. “Everyone in the castle has been looking for
you, lord-captain.”
He had not been gone that long, had he?
The soldier took a breath. “The Lady Artemi - the king is to make her benay-gosa. This afternoon. Now!”
Morghiad dropped the saddle and ran. He had no idea how he was going to stop this from happening, but he had to do... something! Why did she attract so much trouble? But Artemi was his soldier, and he could not allow her to suffer the same fate as the woman in the cells. Ilena’s fate. He sprinted to the benaygosa quarters; they had to take her there first. The main door was open. He entered, and three women immediately appeared to greet him. One of them opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her short. “Where is Artemi?”
They looked at him wordlessly.
“Where is she?” he demanded again.
A short blonde woman spoke, “She was taken to the admission ceremony halfan hour ago, my lord.”
The kahr turned and darted down the corridor again. The king would undoubtedly have her undergo the ceremony in the Malachite Hall, and Morghiad prayed he was in time to stop it. His muscles started to complain at the speed he was pushing them to run at. He turned the penultimate corner, and was met by a hallway full of guards. “Get back to your posts, now! I will deal with this,” he barked at them.
They milled around nervously.
“Now!” Morghiad walked through to the great doors. Silar was sat in front of them,
admiring his sword.
The blond man looked up at the kahr. “I’m sorry, Morghiad. You are my friend, but I’m afraid I’ll have to... stop your father when he walks out of here with her. That is, unless you sort this mess out.”
“I won’t let him take her, Silar, you have my word on that.”
The lieutenant nodded and moved aside. His lust for her had quite clearly driven him beyond any sense of reason.
Morghiad opened up his lungs, and pushed open the great doors of the hall. A small crowd of people stood at the end and wide-eyed, nervous-looking guards manned each exit.
A pair knelt before the minister of the ceremony, surrounded by the existing benay
gosa in red. One of the pair stood and turned as he approached - his father. “How dare you interrupt this ceremony?! It had better be serious business that has brought you here, lad.”
Morghiad’s eyes came to rest on Artemi. She did not turn her face to him, but then, he could see rather a lot of her already. He suppressed his blushes and returned his gaze to King Acher. “I cannot allow you to take her as benay-gosa, father.” A plan started to form in his head from the words.
The king’s eyebrows formed into perfect arches. “This is not a matter for you and Ito squabble over, Morghiad. I hope this has nothing to do with the... entertainments I offered you this morning?”
The kahr bit his lip. “No, it is not that.
You cannot have her because... I want her for myself.”
Artemi snapped round, eyes wide. It felt as if all present had stopped to gawp at him. He avoided eye contact with the redhaired girl, though her looks tried to draw it.
His father took time to think about the words. “It’s good that you’ve finally shown an interest. But...agh! I cannot let this one go. You’ve seen her for yourself. No. She shall be mine. We’ll find you another red head.”
Morghiad felt a tinge of despair. “I really must insist, father. I will have no other woman but her.”
The king frowned and folded his arms. “Really? None at all? I doubt that.”
“In all the years I’ve been here she is the only one to have stirred my... appetite. And
I have already shared my bed with her.”
Blazes, but that was an awkward lie to tell!
Acher grimaced. “You have? Well, that is something. Picky. Always so picky!” He paced around the circle for a minute, rubbing his beard. “Alright then. But if you don’t produce an heir after nine years I’ll have her off you.” The king turned to the officiator. “Master Hawkser, would you kindly see that these two are lawfully united?”
The spindly man nodded vigorously.
&
nbsp; Morghiad knelt down next to the young woman, and took her hand, breathing quietly as fire sprung from the contact. He feared he would see anger in her eyes when she next turned to face him. Her face and hair had been adorned in the usual way, and she looked strikingly beautiful with it. Artemi would have
thrown all of the king’s benay-gosa into the shade, even if she had been unwashed and dressed in rags. Her dark eyes looked intently at him, but were not ireful. Perhaps it was more... relief that he saw in them.
“...my lord?”
Someone was talking to him. Morghiad snapped his head round to Master Hawkser.
“Concentrate, lad!” muttered his father.
“My Lord Kahr Morghiad of House Sete’an, First heir to the Marble Throne, do you accept that this woman is worthy of your bond?” asked the thin man.
“Yes, I do,” he replied.
“And do you accept that any offspring she bears you will be legal heirs to The Marble Throne?”
He felt Artemi twitch her hand a little.
“Yes.”
The ceremony dragged on for a long time, full of seemingly endless questions about rank and permissions to marry or make alliances or dispose of one’s benay-gosa. Morghiad began to plan how they would feign their relationship in public. At least this way he would be able to walk with her at his side around the castle, but managing sleeping arrangements without arousing suspicions would be tricky. And then there was Silar. Silar would not be best pleased with this situation.
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 25
