And the standard was different with her. Sure, he could get drunk and sleep around with other women, but if she did it, it was intolerable. But she was just supposed to forgive him? To pretend it never happened? Whether it was just a kiss or not, it didn’t change the fact that he had so easily forgotten about her in his wine-induced stupor – and then chose to keep it from her! Then that afternoon when he came to wake her, to tell her he had tried to come to her that night, to be with her. As if she would have given herself to him! Betrothed or not, he was not showing her the respect a man should show a woman.
Fury continued to build in his eyes, his mouth sputtering in disbelief. She feared he would strike her back. The real Kael never would have considered it, but there was no saying what this man would do. He’d proven many times now that he was unpredictable. Downright cruel. Her fear was that a single blow from him would render her unconscious in her weakened condition, causing her to miss the meeting with Kyros.
“Kael,” she said softly, hoping to get through to him in his enraged state to calm him. “Nothing happened last night. I went for a walk and I began to feel ill. I was nearby the Consul’s home and thought it the safest place to stop. The Consul is sick as well, and Lord Feolan was already awake caring for him. He allowed me to rest and some water to drink and then saw me back home. I would never have done anything else, even if it had been suggested, which neither of those men would do.”
“You don’t know that,” he spat. In a blur of motion, he grabbed up the garment bag from the floor, throwing it down on top of her. “I have known them far longer than you have, and I know that they are just like all the other men in this world. If given the chance, they would both try to take you away from me. I will not let that happen. Don’t let their fancy titles among our people fool you, Eleni. They can’t be trusted.”
“But you never answered me, Kael. How did you know that I was there?” She hated to bring it up again. His anger was only just starting to taper off.
Tapping his index finger under his eye, Kael smirked. “You would be amazed the things we are capable of. The things our people never told us about.”
“You used sorcery?” she breathed. Her chest tightened at the thought, aggravating her infected lungs. It hurt, a searing pain radiating throughout her upper body, speeding up her heart while choking off her air supply. Lost in a fit of coughing, she clutched at her chest. Kael did nothing. His eyes stared down at her in confusion, as if not registering what was wrong with her.
“I am not going to listen to a lecture right now, Eleni,” he frowned, moving over to the door, leaving her there in her misery. “Get yourself dressed and be downstairs within the hour. I will not hold the carriage for you.”
Sprawling out on the floor, she gasped for air, tugging at the laces on her bodice that she’d been wearing since leaving Dalonshire. An outline down the front of the silken grey fabric showed the stain caused from the water she spilled while at Thade’s. She needed to get it off. Anything which might help to open her airway.
Part of her wanted to regret her decision to attempt the transference. She knew all of her pain and misery was linked to that moment. But she didn’t care. She couldn’t regret what she had done, unless it turned out to have been in vain. If her suffering did not spare the Consul, then it would have been for nothing. Everything would have been for nothing. Guilt would plague her for having not done more to help him, not that it already hadn’t crossed her mind. She couldn’t help but think there was more she could have done. Her lack of experience with actual healing magic was the only thing which prevented her from doing so.
Desperately she removed the bodice, tossing it haphazardly onto the floor beside her. The cool wood felt good against her burning skin. If she could just lie there forever! But that wasn’t an option. She needed to get herself dressed and focused on the task at hand. Now more than ever she wanted to find a means of interesting Kyros in her proposition. Kael might be desiring to do the same, but he couldn’t be trusted. The magic was warping his judgment. Though why he was continuing to use it while away from Mikel was baffling.
Zander had spoken of it having an unnatural draw to those who had a taste of it. But Kael was so strong-willed. It didn’t make any sense that he would so easily succumb to the darkness. There had to be something more to it.
Holding her hands palm to palm over her lower abdomen, Leyna tried to draw her internal energy to them, clearing her mind of everything else. A similar exercise to that which Feolan had shown her when she first utilized the magic. A balance in the flow of the energy was necessary. It was clear to her that whatever she had done to Thade had broken that flow, leaving her feeling incomplete, heavy, exhausted. Unable to function. It was preventing her from being able to fight off the illness.
The familiar tug between her palms came as a relief. There was still a mild flow of energy through parts of her, which was better than she had feared it would be. She could still feel the stagnant pools of it in various points throughout her body. Once she felt it had sufficiently gathered to the surface, she slowly began to raise her arms out to the sides and over her head, directing the energy through her body, pausing at the top of her scalp, her palms aimed downward. With precise movements, she then brought her hands down, stopping again, palms facing her forehead between her eyes and just over her nose. Continuing the motion, she completed the circuit, hovering over the center of her chest by her heart before returning to her lower abdomen.
Her entire body was beginning to pulse from the change inside her. She repeated the motion, calmly, holding each position until she could feel the energy radiating forth between her hands and her body. It invigorated her. Gradually she acquired the strength to rise to her feet, starting the pattern again. She felt alive. Energized. Her physical form still suffered from the fever, but the pathways through her lungs and her internal organs felt clearer, unobstructed.
The thin linen of her chemise was soaked through with sweat, clinging to her skin uncomfortably. With the fog lifted from her mind, she realized how little time she had to prepare herself for the meeting. Less than an hour stood between her and their departure.
Frantic, she bustled around the room, desperately seeking the pieces to the dress she had intended to wear for her introduction to Kyros. The bulk of the garment remained securely in its bag, lying in a heap on the floor where Kael had thrown it at her. Arranging everything neatly on the bed, she inhaled a deep breath, quickly setting herself into motion to prepare for the evening.
The cold bath water had done wonders for her, cleansing her skin of the sticky sweat that had covered her body, easing the fever heat somewhat until it was more bearable than before. Dressed in a clean linen chemise under the heavy crimson damask fabric of her gown, it was only a matter of time before the temperature would rise again.
Her bodice was cinched tightly at her back. It held her posture straight. Oksuva had insisted she dress in a way which would catch Kyros’s eye, given Oran’s fondness of her. They had spent an extra twenty minutes at the house while Oksuva tightened the laces, squeezing her securely into the garment, accentuating her womanly features to the best of their advantage.
It had been almost comical for her to watch the reactions of the men by the time Oksuva accepted Leyna’s appearance to be ‘tolerable.’ The sleeves of her gown were long and flowing, dipping elegantly off the shoulders, revealing her slender neckline while still covering the scar on her arm. Her bodice was enticingly low-cut, though it had not been quite as scandalous when she initially slid it on. Oksuva had insulted her sense of style with fashionable gowns, which Leyna couldn’t argue. She had very little experience with them. The nicest dress she had ever worn had been the one she donned for Queen Vorsila’s masque. Since that night, she had found herself in rags, aside from the past few years of simple dresses so as to not outshine her mistress.
She felt like royalty. The gown she wore had been one of Oksuva’s personal wardrobe, complete with the matching jewels desi
gned specifically to accent the rich color of the fabric, right down to the golden embroidery along the sleeve and down the center of the skirt from the tightly laced waistline. The choker she wore sparkled with brilliant red rubies set in gold around her neck. It sat high over her throat, the labyrinthine design of the chains hanging down low, splaying out widely over her chest. The sparkle of the gems detracted from the imperfection on her skin, hiding it under the glamorous array of precious metals and stones.
Kael had instantly argued that she needed to be covered up, offering her his cloak to conceal her body from view. Oksuva of course declined, demanding she be the first thing Kyros notice when they entered the room. Leyna got the impression she was not the only one hoping to strike a bargain with this man. And with good reason. If Leyna was what this man wanted, Oksuva would never argue, especially in seeing an opportunity to rid herself of the woman that her husband clearly held some deeply repressed desire for.
It was Zander who surprised her the most. For the first time ever, she found him to be speechless, his jaw agape at the sight of her. Had Kael noticed his reaction, there might have been another confrontation between them right there in Zander’s front room. Even now, while seated in the carriage, he remained silent, Leyna’s eyes occasionally catching his gaze straying over to her, shifting away again when he realized she’d noticed.
She felt out of place going into Malic’s dressed in such finery. On top of it all, it was a huge risk. There were enough people who might recognize her for who she really was. She had come too far to have it ruined now.
When they arrived, Oran was there to greet them, his pale hands helping Leyna down the carriage steps. “Ah, my goddess! You look stunning,” he smiled. His eyes lingered over her until Oksuva’s voice interrupted his thoughts, her femininely gloved hand reaching out for Oran to assist her down. “Lady Oksuva. It is a pleasure to see you as well.”
“I have never ceased to think of you since we parted ways last,” she replied, batting her eyelashes demurely at him. “The others are right behind us. I believe then we shall be ready to head in to meet your man.”
“He is quite anxious to meet you both. I have told him much about you. Especially the sweet Eleni, here.” Staring up at Leyna, he gently lifted her hand to his lips, pressing them against her skin. She could see a flicker of confusion pass over his eyes. There was no doubt in her mind that he could sense the heat of her fever. He might have spoken on it, had the noise of the approaching horses from the other carriage not distracted him.
Yasar was the first to exit the carriage, his towering frame looking awkward in his finely tailored suit. The brawny Namiren figure seemed more fitting to fighting gear. His broad shoulders filled out the seams to their limits, looking as though they would split out at any moment if he flexed his muscles even the slightest. Mikel had insisted Yasar join them for the meeting, not trusting Oksuva away from his company. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Master Oran. The ladies take forever to get ready, as I am sure you can imagine by looking at them.”
“It is the way of women, and you will find no man who could ever complain after seeing the finished product of their work,” Oran chuckled.
Upon exiting the carriage, Kael’s eyes were instantly drawn to Oran’s hand clasping Leyna’s. Without a word, he made his way over to Leyna’s side, wrapping his arm possessively around her waist. Oran’s brow rose, curiously looking Kael over.
Zander was the last to join them. He had been seated beside Gislan in the carriage with Oksuva and Leyna, though why it took them so long to find their way outside had Leyna confused. But not enough to merit asking. When it came to those two, she found it better to just leave their reasons unspoken. Gislan was far from proper in her actions and Zander did anything she commanded him. She tried not to imagine what might have passed between them while left in the privacy of the carriage, for even the brief period of time they had. Zander appeared his usual calm and debonair self while Gislan looked irritated, exhaling in a huff as she came to Oksuva’s side. “I need a drink,” she grumbled, running her fingers through her blonde hair. “A strong one.”
“Come,” Oran announced, offering his arms out to Leyna and Oksuva on either side. “We should not keep my master waiting.”
Stepping away from Kael’s arm, Leyna hooked her elbow around Oran’s, falling into step beside him as they made their way into the tavern. The place was alive with people and chatter, the clinking of glasses and plates filling the air. Sconces along the walls and hanging chandeliers illuminated the room with the dancing orange light of the flames. It was bright as daytime in most areas near the door, the light dimming the closer they moved toward the bar.
A shadowy figure was situated in one of the larger booths, the heavy black velvet of his tunic blending in with the shiny strands of his long, perfectly trimmed ebon hair. At their approach, he rose from his seat, greeting them with a cold, calculating stare, eyeing them with disapproval.
“Kyros, if I may have the pleasure of introducing you to the Lady Oksuva and her attendant, Eleni,” Oran announced. Gently he pressed them forward, releasing his hold on their arms. Leyna lowered herself down in a graceful curtsy, averting her eyes from Kyros. “And this young lady here is Oksuva’s sister, Gislan – and these are their men, Kael, Zander, and the bulky one is Yasar.”
“Why did they require to bring so many people? The ladies would have been quite enough,” Kyros grumbled. Unlike Oran, he lacked the refined manners of a gentleman, ignoring Oksuva’s outstretched hand in greeting, lingering in front of him in wait of a kiss. Embarrassed by the rejection, she hesitantly drew it back in, fidgeting uncomfortably.
“I can request the men to leave, sir –”
“Yes, but…” Kyros started, his eyes falling on Kael curiously. Looking him over with a scrutinizing gaze, he nodded his head approvingly, motioning for him to have a seat in the booth. “That one can stay. The rest, I apologize, but there simply is not enough room for us all at this table. You will have to find the bar suitable until I have finished my business with Lady Oksuva.”
Yasar gave no protest to his orders. His long legs carried him over to the bar stools in only a few strides, leaving Zander behind to stare blankly at Kyros’s stern expression. “Gislan–”
“You heard him, Zander,” Gislan replied curtly, motioning dismissively at him with her hand. “Go sit by Yasar. I have nothing to say to you at the moment anyway.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Zander walked away. His frustration was evident, but he knew better than to fight with them. To make a scene now would lead to more trouble than they were willing to risk.
They stood around, all waiting for the others to move. It was Kael who broke the stillness, following the direction to slide into the booth across from where Kyros had been seated when they approached. Oran followed, slipping in across from Kael.
Leyna took a step to sit next to Kael, finding her motion stopped by Kyros’s hand on her arm. She looked down at his hand in shock, quickly shifting her gaze back up to him, questioningly. When their eyes met, she felt a shiver course through her, chilling her down to the marrow of her bones despite the heat of her fever. His eyes shared the same distinct quality of every Ven’shal she’d ever crossed paths with. Black. Seemingly endless pools of darkness situated on either side of his nose, staring through to her soul. A painful looking scar slanted over his right eye. It cut through his brow, reaching up far into his scalp on the side. His nose was slender, his jaw wide, thin lips pressed together tightly into a slim line over his chin. Every part of his face looked somewhat disproportionate to the rest.
She inhaled sharply. There was a familiarity in his features that she had never expected to see again. His face was unmistakable. Burned into the furthest depths of her mind. It had filled her sleep with nightmares for years while living in Carpaen as a child. Images flashed through her vision.
She could see this man, with his awkward features, coming toward her where she knelt beside her mother’s cor
pse, sword drawn, charging. She could feel the panic again. The screaming fear. Her body moving to run from him without ever really knowing who he was or what was happening. Through the door of Reina’s father’s study to crawl under the table next to the desk. The scars on her back tingled. And then all at once, it came to an end, the sickening crunch as Nasha had come to her rescue, knocking him unconscious with the bottom of her sword hilt.
“Are you quite alright?” Kyros asked. His eyes were looking at her just a little too closely for comfort. Searching her face. Had he noticed the fear there? Was it possible he recognized her the way that she recalled his image in her mind? It was impossible to forget that face. It was the only one she had to blame for that day. The only one she had seen, that she had loathed every waking moment of her childhood after that night. And the marks on her back were all she needed to remind herself that he was someone she should fear.
“I – yes. I beg you forgive me, sir. I have been a bit under the weather today. At times I find it rather difficult to breathe, but I will be fine.” She forced a smile. There wasn’t anything else she could do.
Oh, how she wanted to strike him down right then and there. To exact her revenge for the misery and torment he had caused her. But no. She couldn’t let herself do it. Not yet. Although she knew he had been one of those men present, those who ruthlessly slaughtered her and Reina’s family, he was not the only one who had been involved. There were others who remained nameless. Faceless. Someone had hired them to do the job, and it was their leader whom she intended to strike at first. She would just have to be careful how she played her cards. One wrong move and she could lose her only chance to discover who had given the order. Or worse, he could finish the job he started that night. She was putting herself right in front of him.
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 46
