Destiny

by Fiona McIntosh

  Gone were the arrogant tones of Sylc, his innuendo, his peacock mannerisms. This man spoke quietly. His garb, though hanging superbly off his body, was plainly styled and lacking in the colour favoured by the Regent. And where Sylc used elevated language, bordering on poetic, Orlac had a simple, straightforward way of talking. It confused her momentarily. She wanted to hurt him with a caustic reply but none came. Again her anxiety betrayed her. One aspect of him which had not changed were those violet eyes; they were drawing her closer, willing her to accept him.

  He gestured towards the table. ‘Will you join me? The chef here is from a long line of famous chefs, apparently. I gather your father knew him.’ He smiled. ‘Actually he saved his life. It seems our mutual relative enjoys hero status with my cook.’ This was not said unkindly. If she had read it right, it was said to make her smile, relax even.

  Desperately wanting to be churlish, Lauryn snapped her eyes away from his inviting violet gaze. ‘Given his loyalty to my father, are you not afraid he may poison you then?’

  ‘I have taken precautions,’ he said gently. ‘Although I fear Ryk is too passionate about his cooking to risk spoiling it with anything which could make it bitter.’ He sighed very softly, taking her arm without putting any pressure on it. ‘Well, that’s what I like to think, anyway.’

  There it was again—that self-deprecating manner. Lauryn wanted to refuse his food, ignore him, make him force himself upon her, but against her wishes she found herself permitting him to guide her to a chair.

  ‘I’ve taken the liberty of finding out your favourite foods.’ He shrugged a little self-consciously. ‘We haven’t had time to learn much, of course, but Ryk has done his best. I hope it satisfies you.’

  She gave him a quizzical look. She tried to pinpoint a new quality in him—it was not nerves because Orlac was graceful and assured as always but Lauryn picked up how intent his need was to make her feel comfortable. He was trying to impress her as any new lover might. It was so perplexing. And his courtesies, his beautiful voice—not dissimilar to her own father’s she grudgingly admitted—and, she had to accept it, his thrilling looks, only served to make her confusion more complex.

  ‘It all looks very appetising, thank you,’ she said, in mild disbelief at her own good grace.

  He asked if he could pour her some wine. ‘You will like this,’ he said, only pouring a little into her glass. ‘But taste it and tell me. If you don’t, we shall order something different.’

  She did. It effected an extraordinary explosion of taste in her mouth and she could not believe she was smiling. ‘It’s very fine.’

  He beamed, pleased at the compliment, and filled her glass but modestly. Clearly, he had no intention of deliberately trying to get her intoxicated.

  ‘Oh, and I have this for you,’ he said, suddenly leaping back to his feet. At the end of the table was a velvet roll. He handed it to her and then looked away. ‘It’s just something I’d like you to have.’

  Now he was embarrassed. Light! She could not work him out. Lauryn really did not want to unroll it but he watched her as if he was holding his breath.

  ‘Would you like me to look at it now?’

  He shrugged, the awkward grin back on his face. He reached for his wine and took a gulp. Lauryn unrolled the velvet. Inside lay a necklace of dazzling sea-green gems. Each one looked as if it had a flame burning inside it—the candlelight reflecting fantastically from the surface of each jewel. She was taken aback. Orlac glanced at her sideways. Impossibly, it seemed to her that he was unsure of what to do next.

  Why do you woo her, nephew? She is your slave. We promised you that you would have your every desire with her. These courtesies make me feel ill. Throw her on her back; have your pleasure and be done. Then do it again tomorrow night until she feels used and depraved. How else will you get her to call to her father?

  And you make me feel ill, Dorgryl. Withdraw.

  I warn you—

  Withdraw! he shouted within, knowing the pain of his despair had crossed his face and his guest had seen it.

  Dorgryl’s mist backed down and away, curling within itself. Sulking.

  Lauryn did not know what was expected of her and she had been watching his face for some sign. She noticed he seemed to be disturbed and this frightened her more. He seemed to be so many different people. She forced herself to look away from him and back to the velvet roll. Well, she was to be his whore and she presumed it was right that she graced her body with whatever he wanted her to wear.

  Lauryn had already decided to think of herself as Orlac’s whore. Only by so doing could she not confuse this relationship with the way she felt about Gyl. She wanted to be Gyl’s lover. She wanted no other man to touch her in love. And because Orlac intended to have her, then she would be his object.

  ‘Do you wish me to put it on?’

  He seemed composed once again and made a deprecating shrug. ‘Only if it pleases you. I chose it to match your beautiful eyes.’

  Lauryn swallowed hard. He was not making it easy to hate him. Instead he looked like a lost boy.

  ‘May I?’ he said, pointing to the jewels.

  She nodded. What else could she do? Spitting in his face or throwing them over the balcony would only enrage him, and both Juno and Adongo had counselled her strenuously against bringing such rage on. They had told her how petrifying he could be when his ire was aroused. She had had no indication of this but she would not provoke it.

  Lauryn felt his presence behind her as he hooked the gems around her neck, but not once did he attempt to caress her; not once did his fingers, so close, even briefly touch her skin. The jewels sat perfectly against her collar bone, heavy and cold. Orlac walked around to admire her.

  ‘They are lovely and you do them justice. It is your beauty which sets them off and makes them look as perfect as they do around your neck.’

  She bowed her head in acknowledgement of the compliment, at a loss as to what to say to him.

  ‘I have one more gift for you tonight,’ he said. ‘You may like it better than the necklace.’ He grinned and left the table. ‘I will be only a few moments, please help yourself.’

  He disappeared into his chambers. Lauryn shook her head to clear her thoughts. So far only his smile and that gaze had touched her. She had thought he would leap onto her body as soon as she entered his rooms. If anything, he was being as charming and attentive as any man could be to a woman.

  He reappeared. ‘I thought he may prevent you from being too lonely here.’ In his arms was a tiny, fluffy creature.

  When it lifted its head, she saw it was a puppy, barely weaned she felt sure. Her mouth opened in surprise and her heart melted at the sight of its large, dark, trusting eyes. It yawned from Orlac’s arms and then yapped once; he handed it to Lauryn who was instantly in love with her golden dog.

  ‘I didn’t presume to name him but he will grow into a fine beast and you will need to give him a proud name to match his stature.’

  He sat down and again she noticed that tentativeness.

  ‘He’s too beautiful.’

  ‘Not as beautiful as you. But like the jewels, he is a good match.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, this time unable not to show her pleasure at this unexpected gift.

  ‘He will always protect you, Lauryn. No bad will come to you once he is grown.’

  For some strange reason, these words sounded prophetic and they affected her deeply. The jewels, the sensitivity of his attitude and now this most appropriate and thoughtful gesture of giving her company. She wept. He sat silently, watching until she had found her calm again. The dog had drifted into a puppy’s blissful sleep in her lap.

  She sniffed. ‘I shall call him Pelyss.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said and smiled. ‘After the god—protector against all demons?’

  She nodded, not really knowing how she knew this to be right.

  ‘An excellent choice,’ he admitted, reaching for his wine. ‘Now eat, Lauryn. You need feed
ing.’

  And so in these strange and unexpected circumstances she found herself dining and conversing with Orlac. It seemed preposterous. All her loved ones were preparing for torrid battle whilst she sat there with a puppy on her lap, exquisite gems about her neck, quaffing superb wine and feasting as her enemy told her about Cipres and all that he had learned about that fabulous city and capital of the Exotic Isles. Lauryn was ashamed to admit he was brilliant company; far more engaging and witty than Sylc, making her laugh out loud several times. And she could tell he revelled in his ability to do so. The night stretched on and the candles burned low. Still Orlac had made no move that could alarm or disgust her.

  ‘Would you care for a stroll in the gardens? They are especially fragrant at night.’ He picked up two refreshed glasses of wine to take with them.

  It meant leaving his chambers which was a reassuring thought. ‘I would,’ she replied, looking towards her sleeping pup.

  ‘Pelyss will be safe here,’ he said.

  So, he intended bringing her back to his rooms, she realised sadly. She was not going to be released from her fate. She nodded and even dared take his proffered arm as he led her towards the stone stairs which would take them into the gardens below. They strolled through the rose gardens and then the orchard in silence. It was not uncomfortable but Lauryn could not relax as she knew he had intended she might, but to reassure him of her quiet pleasure, she allowed him to guide her with his arm and she even leaned against him and laughed gently when he helped her across a small pond with stepping stones.

  He led her towards a bench in an enclosed formal herb garden with a wall of heavy-scented honeysuckle which added a special lustre to the various fragrances which permeated the mild night.

  ‘I like it here most of all.’ These were his first words since leaving the balcony. ‘I hope you don’t mind if we sit a while?’ He handed her one of the glasses.

  ‘Not at all,’ Lauryn said, taking a sip, knowing every moment here was one less spent beneath his body. ‘It’s very beautiful. Your Ryk must enjoy all these wonderful herbs for his dishes.’

  He nodded and pulled a face. ‘Beware that Pelyss does not take his daily ablutions in here.’

  She laughed. ‘I’ll be watchful.’

  After another long silence which Lauryn was now finding hard to fathom he sighed and said: ‘Tell me about my brother.’

  This was her biggest surprise so far that night. Lauryn took a deep breath and considered what she should say. She would have to be careful for he could be deliberately leading her into a trap; goading her into spilling information he could use against them. She began by describing Tor to his elder brother in as much detail as she could recall, from his impossibly blue eyes to his manner of speaking.

  He did not interrupt her.

  ‘Talking to you now, you remind me of him,’ she said, not wishing to say any more about her father, lest it be dangerous. It was the only phrase she had uttered in the past few minutes which she had not carefully considered.

  He was thoughtfully twirling his glass of wine, the buttery yellow liquid glinting in the bright moonlight.

  ‘We shall meet soon and try to destroy one another,’ he said, no emotion in his voice. He was simply stating a fact.

  Again she said what came to mind, knowing it was fraught with danger. ‘Why must it be so?’

  ‘It is.’ He shrugged, his eyes firmly looking down.

  Lauryn leapt towards this sensitive moment. ‘You are blood. Does that count for anything?’

  His voice was smooth. ‘You have not suffered as I have.’

  ‘But my father is not the reason for your suffering.’

  He lifted the glass to his lips and drained it. ‘He is all I have to level my despair at.’

  ‘And by killing him, killing me…will that restore you?’

  He finally turned a large and sorrowful violet gaze towards her. ‘I will not kill you, Lauryn.’

  She held his intensity with her own look directly into his eyes so that he knew she meant what she was about to say. ‘Well, I shall do everything in my power to kill you and to stop you hurting my family.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, in something close to a sad whisper. And then he leaned forward to kiss her so very softly. In those fleeting moments of his kiss she sensed his fierce affection for her. There was something else, too, and she prolonged his withdrawal from her mouth trying to figure what it was. She probed and in that moment of his weakness she glimpsed an internal battle. She did not know what it was or why but she could somehow tell that Orlac desperately wanted to be the person he was with her but something inside him wanted him to be the opposite. She felt him push back at something sinister, deciding it must be his darker side wanting to wreak the revenge he had lusted after for so many centuries.

  He pulled away. ‘It is late,’ he said. ‘I imagine Juno and Titus will be heartsick by now. I see they are already as smitten with you as—’ He did not finish what he was going to say. Instead, he stood. ‘I must let you get back to your rooms.’

  Lauryn was too terrified to say the wrong thing, which might make him change his mind. Could she really be this lucky to escape the nightmare?

  He helped her to her feet and then bowed courteously to touch her hand, this time with his lips. ‘Thank you for allowing me to kiss you.’ A fleeting smile touched his mouth and then it was gone. ‘I shall send Pelyss immediately. Your chambers are that way,’ he said, pointing towards a lit wing.

  And then he was gone, long legs striding back upstairs. Lauryn sat down on the bench again, her feelings churning, knowing her knees trembled too much to walk anywhere. She had escaped. And Orlac had allowed her to. He was an enigma to her. Worse…she no longer felt contempt or disgust…not even fear. All she felt for him was pity.

  Finally returning to her chambers, she was greeted sombrely by Juno and Adongo, both with fearful expressions full of anticipation of what she might have endured these past hours.

  We did not want to disturb your thoughts, child, Juno whispered gently into her mind explaining the lack of their Link. Are you in pain?

  Lauryn shook her head, too numb from her jumbled feelings to speak with them.

  Come, we have drawn a deep and scented bath for you.

  Still unable to find the right pattern of thought, she remained silent. They took it as despair and helped her towards the warm water which might wash Orlac from her body.

  For the next three nights Orlac and Lauryn dined together and strolled the gardens. On each of those occasions, Orlac was charming and attentive and Lauryn said to a confused pair of Paladin that she would be lying if she did not admit she was enjoying these evenings. She went so far as to comment that she looked forward to the time she spent with him. Neither Adongo nor Juno could understand Orlac’s actions. Both had expected the worst, that he would force himself upon Lauryn leaving her a broken woman. It was beyond their comprehension that he would woo Lauryn and, worse, that she was reacting towards him with an unwitting friendship. Juno sensed Lauryn had begun to pity the god. If only she knew what they had been through to be here now, Lauryn would not pity him, she would despise him. But Juno understood the clever machinations of the god’s mind. This must be a ruse.

  Adongo agreed. He went so far as to suggest that it was only a matter of time before the calm before the storm broke.

  He was right.

  Locky rode like the wind, stopping only to feed and water his horse. He slept for snatched periods in bushes and lived off the supplies he found stashed in his saddlebags. Mostly, though, he fed off his determination to succeed in this task and rid himself of the guilt that he had survived whilst Eryn and Quist had died. And so he drove himself and his horse grimly towards Caradoon with the single aim of getting there in time to meet with King Gyl.

  Luck rode with him. Locky wiped the dust from his eyes and slowed his mount as they entered Caradoon proper. He could see the small town had swelled dramatically in population and the oriflamme of Kin
g Gyl flew brightly along the streets which seemed to be owned by the royal guard. A smirk crossed his face as he wondered whether the Caradoons had gone into hiding. They would not be enjoying such attention from Tallinese rulemakers, nor would they relish the scrutiny of the King himself, known as a fair player who ruthlessly pursued lawbreakers in his role as Under Prime.

  Locky took a deep breath. He had done it. He had kept his promise to Tor and he had made it to Caradoon on time. He got off his horse and led a thankful mount through the town towards the brothel he once called home. Assuming the inn was still operating, he did not want to meet any of the girls, so he skulked around to the back where he found fresh hay and sweet oats for his courageous horse. He watered the mare and took a few minutes to rub her down, remembering Saxon’s warnings to always take care of his horse first. As he did so, he wondered about the brothel, realising it was now his. With Eryn and Quist dead, there was no one else. Well, he could pursue that later. Now he must find the King. Without even wetting his face, he sneaked back into the town looking for a way to win a meeting with the sovereign.

  He asked directions from several soldiers, most of whom just stopped short of giving him a cuff to his head. King indeed! However, the last man he spoke to looked like an old campaigner and through squinted eyes he regarded the youngster who stood before him.

  ‘Looks like you’ve done some riding, lad.’ His voice was gruff.

  ‘I’ve ridden from the midlands, hardly pausing.’

  ‘You’re in a hurry, then,’ he said, scratching at his beard, ‘to see the King I mean?’

  ‘I have to speak with him. I have news he must hear.’

  The old fellow could see the lad was as exhausted as he was dusty and hungry. ‘Over there,’ he said pointing towards a dwelling in the distance which Locky knew had been vacant for years, ‘is where the Prime has set himself up. You talk to him and it’s as good as having the ear of the King.’

  Locky’s face lit. The Prime! Those two words had more effect on him than the notion of meeting the King. ‘Will he agree to meet with me?’