Gral remembered how he’d stood at the bars of his cage last night and watched as those rows of seating had filled with men and mermaids—their cheers and cries, boos and applause booming out from the stands until Gral’s head had ached with the noise, and rising above that sound had come the screams of terror and pain: the songs of the dead and dying just before their souls left their bodies and made the long journey to Hagad.
Gral found the crudely constructed balcony arching out over the arena and remembered how his eyes had widened to see Aurelius, the old one, and that smelly wolf come to take their seats there with the queen. Gral gave an abrupt nod and smiled with a wicked flash of ivory.
He’d bring that stand down and tear them all limb from limb before he died.
“Oy! Ye stinkin’ brute, have ye no ears?” Gral felt a sharp, mind-bending jolt of electricity and his limbs jittered with uncontrollable spasms. “I told ye ta pick up yer trident and start practicin’!”
It was a full minute before Gral regained enough control of his body to turn a mighty roar and snarl upon the one who had jabbed him with his squid stick. It had been the ringmaster. Gral watched him walking away, his back turned, but safely guarded and flanked by three more men with their silly squid sticks. Gral remembered when he’d first seen the writhing tentacles of the creatures tied to the ends of those sticks. Curious, he’d reached out to touch one—maybe they would make a tasty snack? he’d thought—but upon only barely touching the creature he’d received a stunning shock that had left him flat on his back and looking up at the coral-crusted ceiling. The man in possession of that stick had clucked his tongue and muttered about the stupidity of trolls.
Gral had learned since then to keep his distance, and to do whatever his human masters bid him to do. That was the best way to avoid being shocked. He would tolerate their demands for now, but they would regret giving him orders. One day he’d catch the lumpy ringmaster by surprise; he’d take the stick from him, and before any of his guards could notice, Gral would beat the man to death with it.
Soon, he vowed to himself.
But not soon enough. He needed to wait for the perfect opportunity. Until then . . .
Gral shuffled over to the gleaming tridents leaning up against the side of the arena. They were three times the size of those the men practiced with. He’d seen a man try to heft one before, but the weight of it had nearly knocked him off his feet. It took two men just to carry them out into the arena for practice. Gral picked up two in each hand. Moving down to the line of painted sandbags, Gral stepped up to the second farthest of the black lines inked across the sand and took aim with one of his tridents. He let it fly, and it whistled through the air, smacking into the target with a meaty thump. The trident buried itself up to the pole. Gral took two long steps back and aimed for the next target.
This time he missed, but not by much.
Gral hefted a third trident and this time he took more time to aim. At last, he hurled the trident with all of his strength. The weapon whistled sharply as it sliced through the air, hurtling toward its distant target.
Thump!
The sandbag went flying, and Gral roared in triumph.
* * *
While under house arrest along with Aurelius and Reven, Gabrian had plenty of time to consider his situation and to formulate a plan of escape. At the moment he was in his room, the door shut for privacy. He was pacing back and forth under the sickly yellow-green light of the coral as he considered his plan.
He would steal the relic from the queen and then . . . and then what? He could escape the city by swimming to the surface. A spell to protect his body from the crushing weight of the water and another to preserve the air in his lungs and he would be on his way. It would, however, take a lot of time to swim to the shore. He’d need to use another spell for stamina and strength. Whilst using so much magic his quarry was sure to sense him and resume pursuit. Not to mention the mermaids would soon discover he’d left and hunt him down, and he’d be hard-pressed to out-swim any of them.
No, it would be much better and easier to use the maidens’ submarine vessel to escape, but to steal such a vessel he would need someone to steer it, which meant he’d either need to take Aurelius with him or stow away on one of the maidens’ trips to the surface.
Lashyla had said that if Aurelius mated with her, she would go first thing the following morning to find a man capable of winning him from the queen. He could always stow away on that trip . . . if Aurelius decided to mate with the princess.
And if not? Gabrian smiled. There were always ways around that. Aurelius would mate with the princess, one way or another, and then he, Gabrian, would steal the relic, and stow away to escape Meria. His plan was flawless.
But there was still the question of where his quarry had gone. Gabrian had watched him die in the ring, killed by an elf—irony of ironies—but that hadn’t been him, merely a decoy. No, his real quarry was hiding somewhere in the city. . . .
But where? And what was he planning?
Chapter 28
Martanel followed the princess through the city to the elder's quarters. He was anxious over what may or may not be about to occur. The princess had bid him and one of his fellow guardsmen to come along as witnesses. Having only recently witnessed Aurelius mate with the queen, Martanel was baffled by this turn of events. Why would Aurelius mate with both the queen and princess? And in such a short time? Where was the motive? Originally Martanel had thought the elder had mated with the queen to gain access to the relic, but the following morning he'd found the relic still safe in its hiding place—the queen kept it in an old chest with the rest of her gold, pearls, and jewels; she still didn’t understand the value of the object beyond its outward beauty. But Aurelius understood. More importantly, the old man travelling with him understood. And they were both still looking for it. Martanel knew this wanton promiscuity on Aurelius's part had to have something to do with the relic, but how the princess fit into the plan to steal the relic was still a mystery to him.
They arrived at Aurelius's quarters and the princess knocked sharply on the door. It opened after just a minute to reveal the elder himself. He greeted them with a tired smile.
“Hello, Lashyla.”
“Aurelius. Have you made up your mind?”
Martanel watched the boy’s lip twitch. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There has to be another way.”
The princess snorted. “There is not.” With that, she spun on her heel and stormed away. “Have a nice life, Aurelius!” she called over her shoulder with a vicious smile.
“Lashyla!” Aurelius called after her. “Don’t be like that, I meant . . .”
But she wasn’t listening, and she didn’t miss a step in her hasty retreat. Perhaps Aurelius’s behavior was not so odd after all. The princess was merely being hopeful to think he would mate with her so soon after mating with the queen. Martanel hesitated a moment, then hurried after her.
* * *
Lashyla all but slammed the door to her quarters. She felt the acid burn of rejection in her throat like it was cut; her eyes were swollen with hot, angry tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. What was wrong with Aurelius? How could he be so cruel, so foolish—so horrid? She walked up to the broad viewports of her room and took a deep, calming breath as she watched a school of glowing blue glimmerfish drift by. She’d left her guards at the door. She wanted to be alone, and what use were they now when they’d have nothing to witness?
What had Aurelius been thinking to mate with her mother? How could he? She bit her lip, hard, to clear away the tears burning in her eyes. She would find someone else. No, not just some-one; she’d find ten mates! And each of them would be more handsome than Aurelius. She’d make him so jealous he’d wish that he had mated with her! He’d beg to be her mate, and then she would reject him!
There came a quiet knock at her door, and Lashyla turned toward the sound. The muffled voice of one of her guards came through the rusting metal.
“You have a visitor, princess.”
She gritted her teeth and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. She didn’t want to see anyone now. “Send her away! I told you I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Begging your pardon, but he is not a she, and I believe you would be angry if I sent him away.”
Lashyla frowned, curious despite herself. What man would dare visit her without an invitation? She could think of only one. She strode to the door with suddenly eager steps, and then purposefully wiped the spreading smile from her lips, trading it for a scowl as she opened the door.
It was him, standing there in all his glorious beauty. She felt a surge of desire and her heart seemed to skip a beat. “Changed you mind, have you? Well it’s too late,” she said in an icy tone as she crossed her arms over her chest. She wouldn't make things too easy for him. Let him beg.
“I have, my beauteous princess. I don’t know how I could have ever chosen anyone but you. I was weak. Please forgive my foolishness and allow me to undo my mistake.”
Lashyla felt that loathsome feeling of vulnerability easing, and she unconsciously straightened, squaring her shoulders as she began to feel more in control, more herself. This is how it should be, she thought. “You will find that some mistakes are not so easily undone, but fortunately you have made the right choice before it was too late.” Lashyla held out her hand to him and he took it. Like that she reeled him in, pulling him to her.
They collided, their bodies hard and soft in all the right places. She raised a hand to his cheek and caressed it softly. Their eyes met and she gazed deeply into the forest-green depths of his, savoring the moment, knowing that this time, finally, she would have him. She sensed no resistance in him, and the Red Estheria she was taking only confirmed it, but the drug was now no longer necessary. It would be hard to wean herself from it, but easier now with Aurelius by her side.
She allowed her lips to drift close to his, but not close enough that they were touching. Even the smell of him was intoxicating. She could hardly restrain herself, but restrain herself she did. She held back, waiting for him to kiss her, to wipe away the stubborn vestiges of doubt. He didn’t hesitate. His lips met hers in a dizzying rush, fierce and possessing. They stumbled through the room, knocking over clay statues and priceless, one-of-a-kind antiques. They didn’t care. They kissed each other with desperate, hungry need and forgot for a moment where they were and what they were doing. They quickly lost themselves in the moment, and Lashyla barely remembered between gasps of breath to call for her guards. After only one year of life, with no mates to call her own, Lashyla was as inexperienced as they came, but Aurelius more than made up for that.
They rocked on building waves of pleasure that left her mind spinning in a thick, gauzy cloud of sensation. Each moment only added to the desire which threatened to tear her apart. She responded with an angry heat, biting and scratching, and climbing atop of him to pin him to the floor; he offered no resistance, but she held him fast between her legs and pinned his hands behind his head like the prisoner he was.
Those hazy clouds in her mind were swept away with a sudden burst of clarity so bright she thought she would pass out. She heard someone screaming, and thought there’d been some horrible act of violence nearby, but when she closed her gaping mouth, she realized it had been her. She lay back with a moan and a sigh, gazing numbly up at the ceiling glowing in shades of gold and lilac. In all her wildest fantasies, she’d never imagined it would be like that—so hot and desperate, so intoxicating, so alive—like the tingling warmth of the smoothest wine as it caressed her taste buds mixed with the periodic rush and roar of sea, or the blazing brilliance and sudden warmth of the rising sun as she lay naked and drying upon a secluded beach. . . .
It was all of that and more.
It was perfect.
* * *
Martanel witnessed the whole sordid affair, and an affair was exactly what it was—the very worst kind. It was abhorrent to him to even imagine a man sleeping with first a girl’s mother and then the girl herself, let alone for him to witness it! And it had all happened in the space of a day and two nights. The guard looked on with a disapproving frown as the princess and Aurelius concluded their immoral activities. She finished with a blood-curdling scream that could have been drawn as easily from pain as pleasure.
Just as Martanel was turning away with a disgusted grimace, he heard the princess speak. Her voice was hoarse and barely a whisper: “I will leave first thing at dawn to find someone who can fight a challenge for you; then we can be together every night.”
The next voice was Aurelius’s: “I will await your return with anxious longing.”
“And I shall miss you every minute that I am away!” He heard them begin kissing again, and he left the room on shaky legs. He was badly disturbed by all that he had seen.
He took up a guard position outside the princess’s quarters and stared absently at the rusted, water-stained wall opposite the door. So that was the plan? he wondered. Mate with the princess so she could challenge the queen for him? Why not simply mate with the princess in the first place? Why start with the queen and then try to undo it all? It made no sense—unless Aurelius had suddenly realized upon mating with the queen what a mistake it had been. Martanel had warned him. . . .
The guardsman shook his head. There had to be more to it than that. This wasn’t about choosing the best maiden in Meria. His instincts told him it was far more sinister, more calculating than that. He was simply missing the significance of the princess’s involvement. Until he figured it out, he would need to keep a close watch on the relic. He was anxious even now to be apart from it.
Martanel cast a look over his shoulder to the shut door of the princess’s quarters. At least here he could keep an eye on the elder. The relic was reasonably safe while Aurelius was with the princess; he was the most likely one to steal it, since he could now gain access to the queen’s bedchambers.
Martanel gave a sudden shudder. How could any society be so perverted? What made it all even harder to imagine was how Aurelius, a man from a supposedly enlightened time, could be corrupted so quickly.
It didn’t make any sense.
* * *
Aurelius lay awake on the couch in his quarters, staring up at the ceiling, which was glowing a dim blue-green from the corals and barnacles clustered there. He felt miserable. He’d rejected Lashyla over and over again, hurting her each and every time, and this time he felt sure would be the last opportunity he’d have to do so. She’d hate him from now on. He’d earned her lasting scorn.
Somehow she’d thought he’d mated with her mother, while continually refusing her advances. He could imagine how that might feel, though he couldn’t see how Lashyla would still want him after that. She must have believed him when he’d denied it. No one could have such a twisted, perverse concept of love—not even a mermaid.
At least he hoped not.
But to him it was perverted either way. The queen might be more his age, or much, much older. He had no way of knowing. To him, all mermaids looked almost equally young; yet Lashyla was little more than a year old, and she already looked to be a fully grown woman.
Meria was a confusing place, full of carnal delights, but those were a thin veneer pasted over a perverted society with a deadly cruel habit of recycling its male population. No. Aurelius shook his head. Tempted as a part of him was and had been to give in to Lashyla’s advances, he knew that no good could come of it, that he’d repent such weakness at his leisure. He’d be good and truly trapped after that. Though now it hardly seemed to matter, now that the queen had found two witnesses willing to lie in order to secure him as her mate. Now she would slowly wear away his resolve, eventually making him desperate and lonely enough to give in to her, if only for a brief respite from his miserable existence.
It was no way to live, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. He had to believe that Gabrian would find the relic soon, and then they would escape. Especi
ally now that Aurelius had found the means for such an escape. The old wizard would succeed, Aurelius was sure of that, but a nagging doubt kept him worried: once Gabrian had his precious relic, what use would he have for those who had helped him to recover it?
Chapter 29
Martanel heard the door open behind him with a near-soundless scrape of ancient hinges. He turned toward the sound and saw Aurelius sneaking out. The elder held a finger to his lips and smiled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to where the princess still lay on the floor, now covered by a blanket.
“I didn’t wish to wake her, but I must return to my quarters now, lest I be discovered with the princess before it is time.”
Martanel nodded slowly.
Aurelius’s expression became suddenly suspicious as he shut the door behind him. He cast a quick look to the other guardsman, and then turned back to Martanel. “You look familiar.”
“We’ve seen each other once or twice, yes.” Privately, Martanel wondered at the elder’s poor memory. They’d interacted quite a lot in the past day and a half. How could the elder not remember him?
Aurelius nodded absently. “I must get to my quarters now.”
“I’ll escort you there,” Martanel said.
“If you wish.”
“You’re not permitted to walk around the city alone—queen’s orders,” he explained as he matched his pace to the elder’s. Martanel watched the boy’s face carefully, trying to understand what went on inside his head. He couldn’t use magic without drawing attention to himself and who he really was, so he kept quiet. Perhaps Aurelius’s motives would become clear without the need for such things.
“I see,” the elder replied. “Does the queen not trust me?”
Mrythdom: Game of Time Page 26
