Sinner

by Sara Douglass

  “I must trust them,” she muttered as she laced her boots over her breeches – Leagh always rode astride – “and I must believe that they will choose a man kind and compassionate.” Her mouth curled bitterly. “As well as politically acceptable.”

  She must forget Zared. She would rarely, if ever, see him again anyway. “Gods, let Caelum find me a husband a thousand leagues away from Zared,” she said, staring at the door. “For I could not bear to meet with him again.”

  Mentally shaking herself from her thoughts, Leagh looked about the room, finally picking up a blue cloak. There was nothing else to take home, for she’d brought nothing with her. In the time she’d been in Sigholt, she had shared with Zenith.

  Gods! Where was Zenith? If anything served to take her mind away from her own problems, it was fear for her friend. Where could Zenith have got to? Something had been troubling her in the past few days, but Zenith had not been able to speak of it, and now she had gone. Had Drago been involved? Having killed one sister, had he then stolen his other one?

  But Leagh could not quite believe that Drago had killed RiverStar, despite the vision WolfStar had conjured. And despite his aura of diffidence, Leagh truly thought that Drago cared for Zenith. He could not have done her harm.

  Yet none of this solved the problem of Zenith’s disappearance. Where was–

  There was a knock at the door, and Leagh jumped. Hurriedly stuffing her hair into a cap, she opened the door to find Duke Theod standing there.

  He bowed theatrically. “My Lady? May I escort you to your mount?”

  Leagh smiled, for she liked Theod, and the thought of a week or more in his company was no hardship.

  Then her smiled died a little, for behind Theod stood Askam, and though Leagh loved her brother, he was so closely tied to her loss of Zared that his presence made her heart ache.

  “Leagh,” he said gently as she exited her chamber. “I am sorry that Caelum and I have caused you so much sorrow, but –”

  “But say no more,” Leagh said, and laid a finger on his mouth, “for to do so would only break my heart. Leave it, Askam. I will accept in time.”

  He nodded. “Would you like me to come down to the courtyard?”

  She smiled, knowing that even though Askam hated Zared, he truly did feel for her own pain. “No. Wave me farewell from the parapets. When will you come home to Carlon?”

  Askam shrugged. “Caelum wants me to stay for a while, lead a few more patrols through the Urqhart Hills in case –” his eyes slid fractionally towards Theod, “– any track has been overlooked.”

  “I assure you, my Lord,” Theod said stiffly, “that Herrne and I were most thorough.”

  “I am sure you were,” Askam soothed. “But Caelum wants to be certain. What if Drago hid in the Keep for a few hours, and then slipped out after your patrol had left?”

  “Is Caelum up?” Leagh asked.

  “Yes, but he is closeted with FreeFall and Isfrael, who also depart within the hour,” Askam said. “Sa’Domai left late last night. Caelum asked me to farewell you for him.” Askam kissed her on one cheek, then the other. “There, that’s from Caelum, and that’s from me.”

  “My Lord, my Lady,” Theod said, “the sun grows warm, and we have a long way to go.”

  “Farewell,” Askam whispered, kissing Leagh’s cheek once more, then he turned to Theod. “Do not lose her,” he said, his voice hard, “for she is precious to me.”

  No doubt, thought Theod, but he bowed. “I will take the utmost care of her, my Lord. I know her value.”

  Then he had Leagh by the elbow, and they were descending the stairs.

  Despite her sadness over Zared, and her worries about Zenith, Leagh found that her heart lifted as they exited the Keep and clattered over the bridge.

  “Farewell, lovely Leagh!” the bridge cried, and Leagh laughed.

  “Farewell to thee also, fair bridge. May your arches never crumble.”

  “And your spirits never falter,” the bridge responded, and then Leagh, with Herme to one side and Theod to the other, was over the bridge and into the blue mists.

  They rode south for many hours, then turned slightly east, heading for the trail that would lead them through the southern Urqhart Hills to Jervois Landing. They broke clear of the mist mid-afternoon, to find the hills bathed in sunshine and the skies awash with migrating brown Skelder birds, heading south from the Icescarp Alps towards their wintering fields in Coroleas.

  “You always know when autumn bites deep,” Herme remarked, his eyes to the sky, “when the Skelder birds abandon Tencendor.”

  Yet even though it was DeadLeaf-month, the sun was still strong, and Leagh let her cloak flare back from her shoulders in the westerly wind.

  “Theod, will you take the riverboat south with us at Jervois Landing, or will you ride west to your home estates?”

  Theod hesitated, glancing at Herme. “I still have to make my plans, Leagh. I will stay with you a while yet, though.”

  Leagh nodded, and let the topic slide. It would be a ride of perhaps two or three days to Jervois Landing, and at the moment she was so excited at the thought that they would camp this evening in the ruins of Hsingard that she could think of little else.

  Hsingard had once been a lovely and substantial stone city, the capital of Ichtar. But during Axis’ war with Gorgrael, the Destroyer’s Skraelings had invaded it, destroyed it, and built themselves massive breeding hatcheries in its basements. In some wondrous manner that Leagh did not quite understand, Azhure had in a single night destroyed all the Skraelings and hatchlings, and now Hsingard lay a sad sprawl of tumbled ruins.

  There might be no life in it, but it made a good camp site.

  Four of Herme and Theod’s men stretched canvas covers over several piles of stones, creating a spacious and deeply shadowed shelter removed from the camp of the thirty-six men of the escort. Leagh sat and watched as Theod made a fire. A man fetched food from one of the packs on the supply mules, and within a half-hour of pulling their horses into the ruins everyone was seated, eating.

  There was little conversation. It had been a hard ride to get from Sigholt to Hsingard in one day and Leagh soon found herself wishing Herme and Theod would move off to their sleeping rolls so she could curl up and get as much rest as she could on the hard ground. But they seemed curiously reluctant, even when the rest of the camp had settled for the night, and they sat tossing sticks into the fire, and occasionally looking about into the night.

  “Gentlemen, are you afraid that there are Skraelings left within the ruins?”

  Herme jumped slightly, and looked at Leagh. “Nay, sweet lady. It’s just that you never know whether or not brigands might creep by in the night, and –”

  “You have posted no guards.”

  “Foolish of us,” Herme said, and turned to Theod. “Why didn’t you think of that?”

  “Me? I…ah…”

  Theod was saved from further comment by the sound of a distant horse.

  Leagh tensed a little. “Who could that be?”

  “I’ll look,” Theod said hurriedly, rising and walking off into the night.

  Leagh noticed he hadn’t taken his sword. “Herme, what’s going on?”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” Herme said soothingly, and was about to say something more when they heard Theod talking quietly with someone in the distance.

  Herme hesitated, then rose to his feet. “Leagh, stay here. Whatever happens, do not move.”

  And he was gone.

  Leagh pulled her cloak about her nervously and stared before her. Despite Herme’s caution, she was tempted to move further back into the ruins. The only thing that stopped her was the thought that she didn’t know what might be behind her, awaiting her arrival.

  Whoever Theod had found to talk to had now been joined by Herme. Leagh could hear low voices, now so far away she couldn’t really distinguish them.

  They stopped, and she tensed.

  Silence.

 
Then the sound of someone walking towards her.

  She swallowed, suddenly aware of how vulnerable she was. The nearest forms of sleeping solders were at least twenty paces away, and the cul-de-sac of tumbled stones that the men had stretched a canvas over for her was as much a trap as it was a shelter.

  The steps came closer, and slowly she rose to her feet, prepared to run if she had to.

  Then she froze, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

  Zared had stepped into the flickering circle of firelight.

  “Hello, Leagh,” he said. “May I join you?”

  She just stared stupidly.

  “Leagh?” He stepped forward.

  “What are you doing here?” Shock had made her voice harsh, and Zared faltered.

  “Leagh?”

  “Zared…what are you doing here?”

  He grinned, and walked around the fire towards her. “That is a stupid question to ask the man who loves you.”

  And then he had his arms wrapped about her, and was kissing her, but Leagh was still too shocked and bewildered to play the lover, and she pushed her hands against his chest until her mouth was free.

  “Zared, what are you –”

  He sighed, and his arms loosened a little. “I said I would fight for you, Leagh…but I didn’t realise the battle would be so hard.”

  “But –”

  “Theod and Herme said they would bring you to Hsingard. I’ve been waiting here for some three or four days.”

  “Why?”

  Zared sighed. “Why do you think? Did you accept Caelum’s decision?”

  “We have no choice, Zared. Caelum is –”

  “Do we have no choice?” he interrupted softly, then his hand was buried in her hair and he stopped her protests with a kiss that was considerably deeper and more thorough than the last.

  “Come back to Severin with me,” he whispered eventually. “Come with me and be my wife.”

  “But Caelum said –”

  “What in curses’ sakes can Caelum do once we are married?”

  She was silent, thinking.

  Zared held her as close as he could, rocking her gently back and forth. “Be my wife, Leagh. Be courageous enough to be my wife.”

  Leagh’s head was swimming with conflicting ideas and emotions. Zared, so close, so warm, offering her what she so desperately wanted. But she was Leagh, Princess of the West, and she couldn’t just run off with a man her overlord had expressly forbidden her to marry. And what would Askam say? What would Askam do? Would she ever see Carlon again? Was Zared worth being totally ostracised from elite Tencendorian society – for Leagh had no doubt that was what would happen.

  And then she was overcome with remorse for thinking that. Here was the man who loved her, and she him. He would only ever be her true chance for happiness, and she was worried about her social standing?

  But how deeply would she hurt Askam? And what would Caelum do?

  “Sweetheart.” Zared kissed her cheek, her ear, her neck. “What say you? Will you come back to Severin with me, will you be my wife?”

  He didn’t give her a chance to answer, but kissed her again, moulding her body to his.

  It was too much. Leagh just didn’t have the courage to say no.

  “Yes?” Zared asked, and she simply nodded her head, her eyes swimming with tears, both for love of Zared, and fear of what her actions would do to Askam.

  He smiled, and Leagh frowned slightly, thinking it an odd expression, almost one of triumph.

  He shifted slightly, and Leagh realised he was pulling her back into the canvas-covered rock shelter.

  “No,” she said, and she truly meant it.

  “What does a week or two matter, my love?” he asked, his strength too much for her. “The public notary in Severin can marry us soon enough, and I can assure you there will be no physical inspection of the goods beforehand.”

  Leagh blushed a deep red. “No.”

  And yet now here they were, deep within the shelter, and Zared had pulled the flap to, shutting them into an almost total darkness.

  “Don’t rush me –” she started, but he laughed softly.

  “Rush? Why rush? We have a long autumn night ahead of us, my love, and I am in no mood to rush.”

  His fingers were at her throat, and suddenly her cloak fell away, and then his hands, his insistent, strong hands, had pushed her jacket over her shoulders and halfway down her arms.

  Then he stopped and Leagh, her arms trapped, could do nothing as he unbuttoned her linen shirt and ran his hands and then his lips over her bared breasts.

  She considered screaming – but was deeply embarrassed at the thought of what the men who answered her scream would find.

  “No,” she said yet again, but her voice was weakened with indecision, and he heard it.

  He laughed again, low, and held her to him, running his mouth from her breast to her throat and then to her own mouth. His hands finally jerked off her jacket and shirt, and then she was somehow lying on her back amid the blankets and he was a dark shape and weight above her.

  He murmured in her ear, sweet words that meant nothing but nevertheless relaxed her, and she lifted her hips of her own accord when he pulled at the waistband of her breeches, and let him slide them off.

  “You are so beautiful, Leagh,” he whispered, “so precious.”

  And she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms about him, and like the peasant woman she had always dreamed of being, she let the man she loved enter her body and love her. If there was a child from this, she thought, then so be it, and Askam and Caelum must accept it.

  Then there was no more space for coherent thought, and she cried out, and clutched at his back, and hoped that the night would never end.

  It was dawn when he finally let her drift off to sleep. But Zared stayed wakeful, holding her against him, still running an exploratory hand over her body, marvelling at his love for her.

  Yet there was more to it than that, and Zared was honest enough to admit it. It was not just Leagh he had seduced that night, but the West. It was not just Leagh’s body he had invaded, but Askam’s lands of the West.

  His hand stilled, and he smiled into the faint light filtering past the canvas flap. Whatever Askam and Caelum might do to him, there was nothing they could do to undo last night.

  “Is it done?” Herme asked when Zared emerged.

  Zared nodded, and Herme grunted, relieved. “What will she do when she finds out?”

  Zared’s hands stilled in the act of buckling his weapons belt. “There is nothing she can do, Herme. Not now.”

  There was a movement, and Leagh emerged. She blushed faintly and dropped her eyes when she saw Herme, and he turned away to give her privacy.

  They rode south that morning, but some eight leagues above Jervois Landing they swung due west.

  Leagh found it hard to believe what she had done – she knew that had she been given an hour alone to consider Zared’s request she would have refused. After all, she couldn’t submit to her dreams at the expense of her duty…but that was exactly what she had done.

  Gods! What had she done? She loved Zared, she truly did, but Leagh was also very much afraid of the consequences of her seduction.

  And what were Herme and Theod doing riding with Zared? That thought was too frightening to think through to its natural conclusion, so Leagh left it well enough alone.

  I won’t lie with him again, she said to herself. I won’t. I will find a way to slip away…and if there is no child, then last night can be forgotten…

  But there was no chance to slip away, and when that night Zared again drew her down to the ground, she submitted meekly enough.

  And so again the next night, and by then, Leagh knew she was committed to Zared. She had no choice. By that stage there were some three dozen tongues of the escort willing to testify that Leagh was a maiden no longer, and that it was Zared, Prince of the North, who had so possessed her.

  On their fourth day from Hsingard they
splashed their horses across the wide and shallow upper reaches of the River Azle, riding towards a small valley to the northeast.

  Leagh was daydreaming, wondering what Zared’s palace in Severin would be like, when she was suddenly snapped out of her reverie by a glint of steel in the distance.

  And again.

  “Zared –” she began.

  But he silenced her with a raised hand. “It is safe, Leagh. Those are my men.”

  “An escort to see us back to Severin? Do we part with Herme and Theod here?”

  He spurred his horse forward and did not answer.

  Angry, Leagh urged her own mount after him, but as they drew closer she drew rein, aghast.

  True, the standard that many of the men wore was Zared’s…but there was a unit of Herme’s, and there one of Theod’s. And there, more of Herme’s men!

  What was happening? Why were Herme’s and Theod’s men waiting so neatly arrayed in battle gear with Zared’s troops?

  “Oh no,” she whispered, and then Zared rejoined her.

  “Leagh…Leagh, we will not be riding for Severin after all. There is some…business that we must attend in the south.”

  “Where?” she asked, her eyes bright, her hands clenched into fists about her reins.

  Zared thought about not telling her, then decided it wouldn’t matter. She would have no chance to…no chance to escape.

  “Kastaleon.”

  22

  Impatient Love

  For a week Drago and Zenith moved slowly southeast towards Minstrelsea. They kept to uninhabited areas and rarely trodden pathways, and Zenith cloaked them as best she could with enchantments from curious eyes.

  Even so, she could not understand why farflight scouts had not spotted them. Whether it was Niah, or some sickness battling within her, Zenith found that the cloaking enchantments had abnormally taxed her strength – and even then, the enchantments were weak.