Destroyed by Onyx (A Dance with Destiny Book 4)

by JK Ensley

  “He speaks true, Milord,” Brian added. His bright eyes were fixed on the tiny colorless woman leaning wholly upon Gráda. “It was only my fear of your royal wrath that stayed my hand when the maid licked me, when that enchanting woman filled me with her magic. I don’t say this lightly, Sire.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “But please… do not set me as her guard, My Liege, ever. Do not trust me alone with her. To do so would prove disastrous for us all.”

  Her self-proclaimed father turned toward the other men. “Does this ring true for you as well?”

  “Not a word of it,” Luag said. “Nothing could be farther from the truth.”

  “Nay, Sire.” Eògan blushed as he spoke. “Looking upon her makes me smile, inside and out. Her tinkling giggle is the most precious thing I’ve ever heard. She’s my little sister, just a wee babe. I could never bring myself to touch her. Were I entrusted with her life, she would know no harm of any kind.”

  “How can you say this?” Brian demanded, staring angrily at his trusted comrades. “Her delicious scent alone is maddening. I was able to stay my hand from fear of my King. Yet, my blood doesn’t run as hot as our good brother’s, here.” He nodded toward the man he was desperately trying to keep restrained. “Look now into his eyes. You have fought by his side for years, covered his back in the heat of battle, been soaked with the blood of the same fallen enemies. Have you ever seen him like this? Nay, you have not. Her intoxicating aroma makes the mind spin. Couple it with her touch… the maid is lucky all he did was kiss her.”

  “What’re you saying, Brian?” Luag narrowed his eyes scornfully. “She smells of nothing but soap and Brodder’s clothing. I fear the two of you are slipping from sanity. You reek of madness.”

  Brodder turned his attention to Gráda, the ashen man… still supporting Jenevier in his ever weakening embrace.

  “And you, Gráda, traitor to the crown. What did you feel when first she tasted you?”

  “Absolute devotion, much the same as Eògan said.” He strained against his wounds as he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her as a babe. “But I know well what now torments my valiant brothers over there.” He glanced toward the struggling pair. “It was much the same for me when the Silver Witch tasted my flesh.”

  No one spoke. The only sounds intruding upon the heavy silence was Finnean’s labored breaths and Jenevier’s tiny sobs.

  She nuzzled her cheek against the bloodied chest of the man she was going to kill, pleading forgiveness within her head. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. “I am so dreadfully, utterly sorry.”

  Gráda gasped at the sound of her tiny tinkling voice. It reminded him of that little shop in the very corner of the market square. The one with all the colored glass pieces strung together, clinking out their delightful chime when the wind set them to purpose. He quickly looked toward his King.

  Brodder had his finger pressed against his lips, demanding the return of silence. No one dared breathe. They strained to hear her muffled words as she unknowingly spoke them against her saving knight’s torn chest.

  “I know not why, yet… I am a dreadful curse to all men.” Her sobs continued, mixed in with her confessing apology. “I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t even know I could… Oh, Brod, I’m so sorry. My love for you, dearest father, will only ever bring you harm. Forgive me, Brodder. Forgive me, Brian. And please… Please forgive me, beautiful Finnean.”

  She didn’t know they could hear her, she felt no different than when her words remained locked inside her head.

  “I know not who I am. I know not where I came from. I only wish now to leave this place, fall upon a different layer.” She sniffed then, and looked up at the injured man holding her.

  Gráda’s eyes had softened from when she’d first looked into them. Gone were the vicious thoughts, gone were the practiced lies. Only gallantry remained.

  She smiled softly and touched his cheek. He returned the tender gesture.

  “Apologies for drawing blood, Brother,” she whispered. “If I were still the master of my words, I would heal the harm I wrought upon you.” She squeezed the rare locket draped about her neck as she spoke.

  Jenevier hadn’t given much thought to her adorning trinkets. They were already upon her when she woke, they felt like a natural part of her body, she accepted them as easily as she accepted the fact she had arms and legs. Her thumb nail popped the locket open and she absently caressed the strange script. Minus intent or realization, she thought the healing words written within.

  Admiring Gráda’s ruggedly handsome features, she ran her fingers down the rough stubble on his cheek and giggled. His breath hitched. His eyes went wide as his grasp upon her weakened. A slight movement at the edge of her vision pulled her attention to the torn flesh of his chest. Jenevier couldn’t believe her betraying eyes. She watched as the jagged skin began to knit back together.

  Sliding down from his arms, she capped her hand over her mouth to cease her nearly constant astonished gasps. When the last bloody spot slowly closed over, their incredulous gazes locked.

  Gráda’s smile… that indescribable, knee-weakening smile, was the very kind of thing she always believed only Wonderland’s could produce. She threw her arms around his neck and they hugged each other, laughing. Locked in his joyous embrace, spinning about in merriment, Jenevier placed her hand on the side of his head, running her fingers into his strawberry blond locks, and whispered in his ear.

  “I unbind thee, Gráda. I unbind your heart from the Silver Witch who enchanted you. I release you from the shackles claiming your will, returning your noble heart to its rightful owner. I restore you to the glorious creature you once were. You are free, Brother.”

  When she finished speaking, the mighty warrior swayed. Releasing her, he fell upon his knees, confessing to his King the noxious betrayal once planted within his loyal heart, now liberated.

  The healing warmth Jenevier had first experienced while listening to Brodder’s soft lullaby as she stared unseeing into those dancing flames, grew and swelled within her. Her own sort of healing was unknowingly taking place inside her emptied shell. She couldn’t contain her elated smile. That is… until she spun around and found herself face to face with the two angst-ridden warriors, the enchanting generals of her royal father, Brian and Finnean.

  “I wonder,” she whispered.

  Holding up the same tattooed hand she’d caressed Gráda with, she spoke to the tortured souls before her the same as she had with the now healed warrior laughing loudly behind her.

  “I unbind you, valiant humans. I unbind you, Brian, and you, Finnean, from the poisonous curse that is my form. I unbind your pure hearts and return them to your own noble chests. You are free, Brothers. Your unwilling desire for me is erased. Go in peace.”

  When the weighted strain melted from their handsome faces, when their furrowed brows slowly relaxed, she knew her words had worked.

  She gasped. “Wow… I can scarce believe it.”

  “Nor can I, precious daughter.”

  Brodder wrapped his strong arm around her tiny shoulders. She stared up at him, disbelieving.

  “Ah… Can you hear my thoughts now, Father?”

  “Nay, Lass. I can hear your words. As can we all.”

  She quickly looked around at the gaping men. “Then… I’ve found my voice?” Still, she did not believe.

  “Aye, and a lovelier voice I’ve nay heard,” Finnean whispered as he gently embraced her from behind, lightly kissing the top of her head.

  His touch sent prickling goose bumps down her arms, made her heart thrum within her chest like a bumblebee’s wings. She placed her hands over his about her waist, causing his racing heart to drum out its own excited tune against her back as he planted another kiss atop her curls.

  “Tell me, wee maid. What’s your name?” Brodder couldn’t help but ask the question he’d wanted answered since the moment he found her lying upon the sunken ground. “What do they call you, Lass?”

  �
��My name?” She searched her mind frantically.

  The befuddled look in her scared eyes was answer enough. Prying her from the unyielding embrace of his snow-crowned general, Brodder scooped her up in his protective arms.

  “Fret not, my wee darling.” He kissed her pale cheek. “You’re my only daughter, no matter what you may be called.”

  Chapter 9

  Tenshi

  (TIN-shee)

  The massive room was dank, sparsely lit by the now setting sun. It smelled of old wood and candle wax. The large faded tapestries lining the impossibly high walls had all but turned to dust ages ago.

  Their cautious footfalls produced no sound upon the roughhewn stone floors as they made their way to the opposite side of the once elegant dining hall, slowly approaching the far doorway that was openly beckoning them.

  Darkness could not hinder their angelic vision. They saw, and very nearly felt, the lingering sorrow these abandoned ruins of a long forgotten piece of history still emanated, as it lay decaying before them.

  “What do you think it was?” His whisper was swallowed up in the rain-soaked night air.

  “It was called a Ludus. This was the home of a Lanista,” Vareen said softly. “Praetoria boasts a horribly violent, bloody past. In the days of old, men were bought and sold here as possessions.”

  “How was such a barbaric practice even allowed?”

  “The history of every race contains a darker time. A time when lands and tribes were not yet fully established and power belonged only to the strong. Prisoners of war and criminals were bought and sold, used as servants, forced laborers, and many less pleasant things. The physically strongest among them were sold to a Lanista and brought to a Ludus, like this one. Here, they would be trained in the ways of battle.”

  “Trained to be soldiers and guards?”

  “No, Tenshi. Trained to battle one another.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “For game or sport or show.”

  “…What?”

  Vareen nodded. “Yes, that was how the Lanista made money. He would schedule events against a rival Ludus and people would pay to watch these trained men fight to the death. Well, at least that’s the long and short of it. Sometimes the Lanista would simply have his gladiators perform feats of strength, or even battle one another without delivering a death blow. This he would do as a gift of show for an important visitor, to celebrate one of their holidays, or even as an offering to one of their many gods.” She held out her arms. “We now stand in the main dining hall of one such Ludus. Many extravagant affairs were held within this room. Most of them are not for your ears, my son.”

  “Nor should they be for yours, revered mother. Come. We have much ground to cover.”

  *****

  The heavenly sapphire Angel and the ever-elegant Vanir seer eventually exited into the waning light of another fruitless day.

  “Why do we continue to scour through these abandoned old buildings? What makes you think Mama would be hiding in such a place as this?”

  “Tenshi, your mother is a rather, shall we say… memorable looking woman. If she were walking the streets in broad daylight, everyone would take notice of her. We would have heard the whisperings concerning her upon our first steps within this realm.” Vareen looped her arm through his. “We know not what happened to her when her essence was withdrawn. It’s quite possible her shell went mad, or went dormant. Imagine losing your memories, your personality, your every feeling and emotion.” She paused to let her words fully sink in. “If she is on her own, she’s either mad or completely terrified. If that be the case, she would likely gravitate toward places like this. Places with few or no people. Places with many different rooms or tunnels to hide in. If she simply went dormant, someone would have found her by now. And people being the creatures they are, they would have most definitely taken her to a place where no one else could see her, and…” She drew in a strained breath. “…and then, they could freely do with her as they wished, without worry of interruption or discovery. During the day, they could easily lock her within one of these many gladiator cells while they carried on with their normal life.” Vareen looked up at the horrified Angel beside her. “Minus her lucid mind, she would probably just sit, waiting, not realizing she could escape. Here, within an abandoned Ludus, would be the perfect place. Perfect, either to hide from the world… or be hidden from it.”

  Tenshi spread wide his glorious wings. “Then why do we tarry? Come. There are many dark places in which to hide, or be hidden, on Praetoria. I cannot rest if I know not what some monster may be doing to my blessed mama while we stand about chatting.”

  With every empty cell he searched, sweet relief mixed with bitter grief. Trepidation grew, exponentially, within the mighty sapphire Angel—the blue pinioned result of heaven and hell, a divine creature, blessed with the precious heart of a child.

  Vareen kept a close eye on Tenshi, never leaving his side. Yet, no vision of his colorful little mother encroached upon her troubled mind.

  Chapter 10

  Finnean

  (FIN-yan)

  The floor was cold against her bare feet.

  The smells within their now crowded home had changed. Mingled with the familiar scent of burning wood, old furniture, and wet sod, were the new aromas of worn leather, dirty horse, and man sweat.

  She crinkled her nose as she wrapped a small blanket around her chilling arms. Picking up the empty basket, she slipped quietly into the lifting darkness.

  Jenevier feared angering Brodder again this morning, but she could no longer ignore her deep need for some rose tea. It pulled at her on a cellular level. She craved it almost to the point of delirium.

  The delicate blooms were quite a walk from their solitary domicile, but well worth the trouble. Her mouth watered at the thought of the delicious hot nectar hitting the back of her throat, warming her all the way down to her belly.

  The night mists were lifting, morning dew clung to the velvety petals. The pink and white roses were here, the deep red ones bloomed on the other side of the twisting mound of thorny vines. She wanted a specific mixture, heady with pink, laced with white, and lightly touched with the much stronger red petals.

  Thankful to happen upon such a bounty, she paid her deepest respects by taking time to smell each bloom before robbing the tiny stem of its glory.

  A small twig snapped from the booted weight placed upon it an instant before a large warm hand clamped over her pale mouth, pulling her back against a broad chest.

  Fear did not seize her. She simply waited for the coming voice to match the rare scent she had already identified.

  “Not even a little fight?” he whispered, close to her ear. “I wasn’t expecting a battle to the death, but I had imagined at least a small struggle, or perhaps a muffled scream.” Gráda gently kissed the side of her head. “Bore da, wee moon.”

  She waited patiently for his hand to slide away before she spoke. “Bore da, Brother.” She smiled without turning. “I didn’t know you had followed me, no. But I have tasted you. Sneak up on me you may, scare me you cannot.”

  Gráda turned her around to face him. The innocence in those sparkling snowflakes drifting upon calm black pools, was a balm for his burdened soul. Marveling at her milky white features, how dainty and fragile she looked—large doll eyes in a porcelain face—coming tears threatened to choke out his words. He tenderly ran the backs of his bent fingers down her colorless cheeks.

  “I never wish to scare you, Milady.” He lightly touched the tip of her nose. “The King wouldn’t want the Princess wandering about on her own. Not these days. Not in these parts. I believe he promised you a good tanning if you did thus again. Did he not?” He wrapped both arms around her waist. “Perhaps I should exact your punishment myself. What do you think, wee lass? Should I spank your lily white bottom by command of the King?”

  “Do you believe you can, Lord Gráda?”

  He pulled her closer. “I would very much like to try
.”

  “Remember you not our last little encounter?” She smiled. “Don’t make me regret sparing your life, Milord.”

  He released her, chuckling. “How can I ever forget, gray lady?” He playfully flipped one of her curls. “You damned me and redeemed me with nearly the same breath.”

  “As it should be.” She spoke absently as she went back to gathering the soft little petals she couldn’t wait to start boiling. “I do not wish to make unnecessary ripples, Lord Gráda. I fear things haven’t always gone so well for me on that front.”

  “Unnecessary ripples?” He plucked off some blood red petals and sprinkled them in her basket. “What does that mean?”

  “Hmm?”

  Gráda heard her questioning response, yet the lovely woman’s focus was only upon the dainty blooms she obviously coveted. He knew she wasn’t paying attention to him.

  “Do you even realize what you just said?” he whispered. “Or that you even spoke at all?”

  She didn’t acknowledge him. She seemed in another world.

  Perhaps, Gráda thought. Perhaps she isn’t real. Perhaps her body is in this realm while her soul dances upon another. Mayhap she stands whole, yet balanced upon a precipice, teetering upon the edge of our world and hers. If she falls, I pray it’s in my arms she lands. I could make her happy. Every day I would worship her smile, determined it should never leave her lovely face.

  He stared at her ghostly profile, glowing in the muted rays of the breaking dawn. She was a breathtaking vision—terrifying and glorious. Gráda couldn’t help himself, he had to touch her, it felt unnatural not to. He slowly reached for her delicate chin, quickly dropping his hand when he heard the approaching footsteps.

  “You had both better be glad I was the one sent to fetch you. Luag would have scolded you severely, Princess. And I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened to you, were it Brian or Finnean coming out here to collect you.”