“Something dire?” Ryanac laughed, but it held no humour.
“The slaughter of innocents, maybe. I know you followed your instincts for good reason. Maybe they would have killed all the guards with these darts, farmers, women, and children. The position was vulnerable. I would have made the same decision. Right now, Uly’s alive, and you survived. I’m sorry for the men that died, but not as sorry as I could be. I’m glad it wasn’t more.”
Ryanac closed his eyes and then opened them again, jerking slightly. It had been a mistake; the gesture of closing his eyes had caused the tears to fall. In another part of the suite, someone knocked. Harton would answer it, but Tressa, perhaps overcome with shock at seeing Ryanac cry, said she would go and walked away. It left the two men alone for the moment.
“If Uly’s hurt like this before his time, you’ll die inside, and it won’t be something I can fight. That’s not something my skill with a sword can rectify. You’ll hurt, and I’ll feel the pain of you hurting, but more than that” ‑‑ Ryanac looked up, clearly not even trying to hide the misery on his face ‑‑ “it’ll kill me too. I don’t want anything to happen to him. I never thought anyone would be as important to me as you are, but you’re together now. I can’t separate you, not in my head, not in my heart…”
Two quick strides closed the distance. Markis took Ryanac’s face in his hands. They touched foreheads, sharing the space, the air between them warmed by their bodies and their breath. “You know what you mean to me. Losing you like this would have killed part of me, too. You survived for me, and Uly still lives. Don’t let whoever has done this win.”
Ryanac finally gave a soft laugh. “To think we wanted this.”
“Samir,” Markis said with a snigger. “I’m beginning to hate that word.”
“It’s Meira.” Tressa interrupted them.
Pretending that Ryanac had died had left no reason for the healer to stay. However, as Meira insisted she would need to check in on her patient, Tressa had said she would call for the woman with the pretence of feeling unwell. In some ways, Tressa’s small build worked in her favour. Many took it upon themselves to assume she was weak and frail. For her to say she needed help due to the stress of the situation would fool most people.
Markis looked to Ryanac’s face to check he had regained his composure. He nodded.
“Shall I bring her in?”
“I’ll go out to her.”
That made Markis smile. He leaned in. “The comet forbid you should show a sign of weakness.”
“Fuck you,” Ryanac whispered.
Markis forced his smile wider and was glad it only took a little effort. “One day soon,” he replied, gratified to hear Ryanac groan.
Chapter Sixteen
“You should be in bed.”
“I’m not keen on going to bed alone. Unless you’re making an offer.”
Meira gasped and pulled back a little. She looked genuinely shocked. She glanced at Markis. “Is he always like this?”
“Worse. And don’t knock it. I’m grateful for it. It means he’s getting better.”
Now it was Ryanac’s turn to look at him with a shocked expression.
“I meant it,” the healer said, returning to the subject of bed.
“Look, I know I owe you, and I thank you for helping to save my life, but I know when to lie down and when to move. I’ve been resting. I need to get this stiffness out of my joints.” Ryanac rolled his shoulders as he said this. Any other time, Markis would have admired the movement. He still did, but his heart wasn’t in it. Even so, he wasn’t the only one noticing the play of muscle under the skin. To watch Ryanac move was almost mesmerising. He opened his mouth to make another joke because the situation called for it, and they needed it, when everyone in the room, including him, stopped whatever they were doing and turned their heads, gazing around. Markis’s skin itched.
“What is that?” Meira was the first to ask.
“I’d say it was the comet, but…” Ryanac looked at Markis in question. He could only shake his head. If he had lost control, it might have felt like this, but he hadn’t even opened himself to the abyss.
“I’m not doing it,” he said, realising that the words were to confirm it to himself as much as anyone else. The golden light sparkled in his eyes, making him think he had been mistaken, until he realised he could see it in reality. Suddenly, he knew what was coming. “Ryanac, hide,” he hissed, but the big man was already moving and had apparently worked out quite a bit of that stiffness. It was always a wonder to watch such a large man move so lightly and easily when he had to. He slid behind a piece of furniture, taking Meira with him, pressing her against him and a hand to her mouth as he did. Antal emerged from another part of the suite, apparently having felt the approach of something.
“Harton’s guarding the door,” Antal said even as Markis shot a look at him. He gave a slight shake of his head, and Antal stopped short, standing at the edge of the door, waiting. With Tressa standing at his side, Markis turned to face the portal as it opened.
* * * * *
She kissed, licked, and nibbled his neck. She had also pinched and scratched. At first, Uly had given her no response, but her lips were soft, and her tongue active. Under other circumstances, he had no doubt her technique would work, but he doubted he would remember her. Her unwanted attention made him squirm. His rapid pants came from frustration rather than arousal and only served to hurt his throat, yet he welcomed the pain now.
“Ease off.”
Uly hadn’t heard the man return so, taken by surprise, he jerked in his bonds. The woman obeyed the order. She ran a finger up the inside of Uly’s thigh, stroking lightly. So far, none of her caresses had been intimate. Uly only hoped she kept them that way. He turned his head aside as much as the collar would allow. She knelt, staring up at him in obvious puzzlement, which perplexed Uly in turn. He wasn’t sure what baffled her. He wasn’t even hard, but if that weren’t due to his dehydration, then he wouldn’t be happy about this in any case. He was glad his body failed to respond. His trousers pooled at his ankles, but his tunic was long enough to leave him some dignity. Whatever this was, whatever they trained this woman for, he couldn’t call it sex. It didn’t even feel like ravishment. He didn’t want her, but he didn’t particularly care either. If she had tried to put him inside her, it would have been another matter, but he saw her as an orifice. If she had been soft and animated like Tressa, he could have felt something for her, but this woman was so distant she didn’t even seem real.
Uly could have let the moment pass and not cared if the wall in front of his eyes hadn’t wavered. He stared, quite forgetting the woman now on her knees, as a bright gold spot appeared. Then it grew. As it expanded, his eyes grew wider. Beyond he could see a white room sectioned off by partitions made of elegant fretwork. A man turned, cried out. Beside him, a little at the rear, there stood a small woman. Uly closed his eyes against the sight of Markis and Tressa.
* * * * *
It took all Markis had not to focus his gaze on Uly, or the woman kneeling at Uly’s feet. He made himself stare at the man standing in the foreground. On the outside, Markis remained calm. Inwardly, he panicked. Even in a brief glance, Uly looked tired. He struggled in his bonds, making a futile effort to get free. It pained Markis that Uly should turn his head aside, as far as the collar around his throat would allow, as though in shame. Tressa drew in a very deep breath. Markis could hear the passage of air through her nose as she breathed in. Anger radiated off her in waves. He didn’t even need the comet to feel that.
The man was Kita, but no surprise there. Markis could see no others in the room, but he suspected someone hovered just out of sight, and he now knew whom. Only someone who could control the comet could create something like this. He could see little of where they were keeping his Samir, alas. The portal extended only as far as they required. Still, he tried to take in every detail he could without making it too obvious.
“What do you want?”
he asked.
The man laughed, and Markis would have liked to say the sound possessed bitterness, but that would have given it more emotion than the laugh actually contained. “Do you get that from this one” ‑‑ the man jerked his head in Uly’s general direction ‑‑ “or he from you? Direct, to the point.”
“It’s a common enough trait in men of action.”
“Action?” The Kita sneered. “You fool yourself. This naive young man will never be more than a lay, and I suspect a complacent one. Like all Swithin, you let your cock rule.”
Seeing as the very existence of this portal proved this man was conspiring with someone Swithin born and raised, the accusation was a clumsy attack. “Our hearts rule our cocks. Your assumption is a common mistake.” As for naive and complacent, Markis wanted to argue with that. Uly wasn’t naive, just hopeful and optimistic. Many mistook him for innocent when he was anything but. As for complacent, well, up until recently, this man had a point, but not anymore. An image of the other night, lying back under the young man’s hands while Uly took what he wanted, shivered through the king. He struggled not to shiver in reality. The man would mistake that as a sign of weakness when it was pleasure only. Besides, Uly did not give in easily. He had witnessed firsthand from Ryanac’s eyes the sight of the two men Uly had sliced open, one of them at least terminally. Uly had his first kill and probably didn’t even know it.
“Weakness,” the man muttered, meaning Markis’s reference to hearts and, therefore, love.
“Another common mistake.” Tressa spoke this time.
The Kita glanced at her. “You have this female. She looks like a good orifice.” He jerked his head, indicating Uly. “Why do you prefer this one’s hole?”
This time, Markis struggled not to smirk. It would take more than a few insults to upset Tressa. Her expression had changed, but not to one of anger. She looked at the Kita with open disdain, and the man didn’t like it. He looked ill suddenly. Tressa’s expression was not enough for him to take it out on Uly, though. This man wanted something, and Markis intended to keep that foremost in his mind. The kidnapper was unlikely to lose composure over mere words either, unless they were particularly taunting. “It is not a person’s body that makes them important to you. It is the person inside the shell. It would take too long for me to explain it to you, and even then, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Using that philosophy, what would you do if I damaged the shell? Would you still love him?”
If he said no, the man wouldn’t believe him, so Markis said the only thing he could. “Yes.”
“Shall we test the theory?”
Markis dithered only slightly, quickly recovering and swallowing the flash of panic. For an instant, he faced the fear that the man might actually start cutting on Uly even though it was unlikely at this stage. This was just delivering a message. Actually carrying out any threats would likely come later, if it came at all. Markis meant his word. He would love Uly no matter what, but that wasn’t the point. This man had no right to threaten to disfigure or kill someone. The king vowed silently that this Kita would never get to threaten anyone else. Markis gave himself a mental pat on the back by managing to sound lazy, even bored.
“You waste our time. What do you want?”
The man smirked. “The book.”
Markis almost blinked, and then struggled to hold the man’s gaze so that his eyes began to water and sting. He paced a little to hide the fact he needed to blink, and rearranged his expression. “There are many books in the Swithin library.”
The man just sighed. “And there are books that aren’t.”
Well, he had known it wouldn’t work, but he’d had to say what the Kita expected. “When and where?”
“You give in so easily?”
Knowing this type of man, Markis took a wild but knowledgeable guess. “I’m sure you know I don’t, but I assure you I will if I have to. I can see neither of us has the patience for this.”
“Not the patience perhaps, but I was looking forward to baiting you.”
“You’ve done that.”
The man shook his head. “You’re weaker than I thought.”
“What some consider weakness, others consider strength. Think what you will. When and where?”
“I’ll let you know. I think we’ll keep Uly for a little while. He might even grow to like our form of entertainment.”
* * * * *
Uly had listened to the conversation, but he wouldn’t look. He wouldn’t! He turned his head, pressed it into his shoulder as far as the collar would allow. It hurt to do so, but he wouldn’t look. Even when a hand roughly jerked his head back to the front, he refused to open his eyes.
“If you don’t open them, I’ll burn them out.”
Not doubting the man’s word, Uly opened his eyes, but he gazed off to the side, not wanting to look at Markis.
Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. He now understood why the man had brought the woman here, as another way to hurt Markis. He heard her shift at his feet and waited to feel her touch. He didn’t want Markis to see her touching him. He couldn’t stand it if…
“Uly.”
At first, his name failed to register.
“Uly.”
He didn’t want to look, but something in that voice called to him. Markis sounded so calm; curiosity made Uly glance up from beneath the unruly strands of his fringe. The king walked forward, surely drawing closer to the portal. He looked tired, and it pained Uly to know he was the cause of that. It also made him feel warm inside. His cock twitched, and it had nothing to do with Tihea’s hands on his thighs. She hadn’t started to do anything to him yet, but her tongue flicked out to touch her lips in what looked to be anticipation. Markis stared, but Uly couldn’t hold his gaze. Then Markis made the shape of a V with two fingers. He pointed them outwards to Uly, and then turned them around as he brought his hand to his face in front of those dark, chocolate brown eyes. The gesture was almost universal: look this way, your eyes to my eyes. Markis stared and Uly looked back at him. From the corner of his eye, he could see his captor frowning.
Markis smiled. “If she touches you, imagine it’s me. If you need to spill, then do it for me. Let me see you.”
Uly’s response was unexpected and immediate. He became acutely aware of the dingy room, of the ties that bound him, of the woman. Undoubtedly, if he were not so dehydrated, her methods would usually work if the man gave the order, but undoubtedly this man didn’t care whether Uly grew hard or not. Tihea’s purpose was to cause humiliation, but the shame of what his captor might order the woman to do to him slipped away. Right now, as far as Uly’s heart was aware, Markis was the only one with him. He could see Tressa looking regal, standing straight and proud, and no doubt hiding the fact that her stomach churned. The set of her lips gave away her anger but only because he knew her so well. Even so, even she didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but that smile, that dark gaze, and the intelligence…the knowledge shining out of them. They were alone. It didn’t matter how many people stood around. He and Markis were together. Maybe that was why Markis hadn’t broached the subject of marriage. Maybe he didn’t need to. Uly was willing to believe that nothing could bind them tighter than they were now.
Reality rushed in only when the man moved in front of him, breaking the vision. A hand came down, aimed at the woman, and he slapped her away. She fell back. Thankfully, the tunic was long enough to cover Uly, though he didn’t care one way or the other right now.
“I’ve killed your guard. You think I won’t kill this one?”
The words shattered what little peace Markis had given him. Ryanac couldn’t be dead. Uly stared at Markis, making a slight movement of denial with his head. It couldn’t be true. To his dismay, Markis looked away, and grief welled up so suddenly, Uly had to bite his lips to keep from crying out. Tears stung his eyes, and he fought them; he didn’t have enough moisture left in him to cry and besides, he would grieve another day, when he had made the man who had d
one this pay.
“You think to gain my obedience by trying to humiliate us,” Markis said, “but we are above that.”
“You think so?”
Markis stared at the man. “What one does to the flesh does not have to taint the spirit. A body can suffer abuse, be destroyed, but that is your shame. It does not belong to the person who suffers at your hand.”
Uly had to wonder if this line of conversation was a wise one, but he needed to trust that Markis knew what he was doing. Even as he thought this, Markis’s voice hardened. “You hurt Uly, and I’ll destroy the book if I have to, before I let you have it. You hurt him, and I will use it to hunt you down to the end of my days.”
“And then you’ll kill me. Yes, I understand.” The man said it as though it were unimportant.”
“No,” Markis said, and something existed in the way he said it that made even Uly feel cold. “I won’t kill you. I’ll make sure you live.” Somehow, he made that offer sound worse. The kidnapper hesitated, and then he grinned, though he looked sickly.
“We understand each other then.”
“Yes. Uly.” Markis replied to the other man, then called for his attention. “Is there anything you require?”
The sudden question confused him, but he struggled to pay attention. He required his freedom, but aside from that…
“I’m sure you would like a bath, but I doubt he will grant us that. Is there anything else?”
“Yes.” Uly had almost shaken his head but then remembered. If his legs were free, he would have kicked himself. Markis had mentioned a wash. Had the pool been only a dream then, or had Markis sent him a message? “Water. I’m thirsty.”
“If he dehydrates or starves…”
The man waved a hand in irritation. “I’m sure you’re going to specify.”
Markis smiled. “You do understand me. Plain, clean water; no meat, nothing rotten. If you feed him something that makes him sick, I’ll take that as unkindly as if you didn’t feed him at all.”
The Swithin Chronicles 3: The Comet Cometh Page 20
