The Beast and The Sibyl (A Prydain novel Book 2)

by AJ Adams

  I didn’t say a word. Not one. But Bliss knew.

  She sighed, “They’re Prydain, and I’m Skraeling.”

  “Mind-reading again?”

  “I don’t have to.”

  We sat in silence, sailing through the night. Then Bliss turned to me. “I haven’t seen this, Siv. What happens now?”

  “There’s a current a few miles out that will carry us north.”

  “To your home.” She was quiet. “I guess I’m out of options.”

  That hurt. After all we’d just gone through, she was still rejecting me. I snapped back without even thinking. “But I’m not. I have what I want.”

  She gasped. It was a shocked little sound of fear that went straight through me. “What do you mean?”

  She still saw me as an animal. I heard it in that frightened gasp.

  Before I quite realised it, pain and rejection were taking over. “Back there it was your home and your rules.” Rage was running my tongue. I wanted to hurt her as much as she’d hurt me. “This is my home, so it’s my rules.”

  “No, Siv!”

  I felt her fear, and I didn’t care. “You’re mine,” I snarled.

  Chapter Eleven: Bliss

  Adrift on the ocean, the events of the night hit me: I was outcast and at the mercy of the Beast. I was miserable, crushed with grief and despair.

  All my life I’d tried so hard to fit in, yet Courtney just seeing me with the Beast had been an instant death warrant. No chance to explain and no mercy. The villagers would have burned me alive, consigned me to the most hideous death they could think of. There wasn’t even a thought for all the times I’d helped birth their babies, cure their ailments, and tend to their everyday needs. It was all gone in an instant.

  “Beast!”

  “Witch!”

  The words echoed in my memory. I had lost my home and my people.

  As the knowledge sank in, my heart bled; my very soul felt shredded. I huddled by Saga, holding onto the soft fur. The poppy I’d put in her water had put her out, letting her sleep peacefully while her body healed.

  I buried my face in her neck, soaking up her musky scent. If it hadn’t been for the Beast, she would be dead, and Bygul and Trigul and I would be gone, too.

  But it hadn’t been a rescue. He’d made that clear. I shuddered as he snarled at me.

  “I have what I want.”

  “Now it’s my rules.”

  “You’re mine!”

  To be outcast had me on my knees, but to have him turn on me too was killing me. Maybe it would have been quicker to burn after all. Visions of rape, beatings, and a life as a thrall throttled my mind, paralysing me. I considered picking up a sword, but the way he’d dispatched the Vale men told me I had zero chance of killing him. Even if I did, I couldn’t sail or even swim. Taking him out would be suicide.

  It was a dark night, only a sliver of new moon showing, but I could see his silhouette, and his emotions were blasting out as always. Rage and revenge blended into a wall of darkness. I was in deep trouble. The man who’d laughed when the girls stole his breakfast and who’d talked about travelling the seas was gone. This was the Beast who’d rejoiced as Brighthelme burned.

  Thankfully, he was stuck at the tiller. I was safe, at least for now. Sitting in the dark, listening to the sound of waves and wind, I forced myself to think. I was alone, yes, but I wasn’t defenceless. Siv had tried to hide it, but I’d sensed that thread of fear every time he’d seen my talent at work. I could use that.

  “Beast!”

  “Witch!”

  Evil words. Frightening words. Powerful words.

  I stomped on my impulse to wail and tear my hair and got my backbone back. I’d not squeal and beg. I would take events by the throat. No more hiding. No more being afraid. If I were going to be outcast, I’d reveal the true me. Not a minor sibyl, not a healer, but the real thing. I’d be a witch, and I’d be the best damn witch ever.

  At the resolve, my courage came flooding back. I got up and groped around in the dark, fishing through my cart.

  “What are you doing?” His voice was a cold snap in the night.

  “Getting a cloak. I’m cold.” I spoke bravely, as if my heart weren’t sinking through my boots.

  “Feeble-bodied Prydain!”

  My hand encountered a blade. My boning knife, judging by the wicked point pricking my palm. With relief, I picked it up along with a cloak. “Go suck Odin’s cock!” Just saying it made me feel tougher. “I’m going to sleep.”

  He didn’t say a word, but the fury coming off him spoke volumes. I pretended not to care.

  I curled up against Saga, knife in hand, and declared war. “You’d better watch out Siv Skull Crusher. I’m not some helpless wench. I’m a witch. If you cross me, I’ll curse you and all your brothers.”

  I felt his astonishment flood across the space that divided us. “You don’t have the power!” But he was afraid, I could see it. Feel it. Hear it.

  “Don’t I? Take me on then!” I challenged him.

  There was a dead silence.

  “Thought not.” I hugged Saga, feeling safe again. “Goodnight, Beast.”

  He was so outraged that he didn’t even swear at me. Comforted, I closed my eyes. Then, exhausted by emotion, I was out in an instant.

  When I woke up, the sun was inching over the horizon, and Saga was licking my hand. “Oh sweetheart!” I cradled the soft fur carefully and felt her all over. “You were so brave! How are you?”

  I closed my eyes and concentrated, soaking up her emotions. Relief, happiness, hunger, all as usual, and a sharp edge of pain when I touched her side and the back of her head. Bruises but no broken bones. It was a miracle, considering what might have happened.

  I gazed into her yellow eyes and kissed the long velvety snout. “Breakfast and then a little poppy. Another day of rest will sort you out.”

  That’s when I realised Bygul and Trigul were out of their basket and walking around with careful steps, but Siv had vanished. Honestly, I panicked. I was convinced he’d fallen overboard. I was rushing up to the bow when there was loud splashing, and then a hand was clutching the side.

  He was lifting himself into the boat. Water ran down the muscled chest, making the snakes and wolves writhe. In his hand he held a small net, bulging with fish. At the sight of it, Saga began yipping excitedly. I almost found myself joining her in sympathy. I couldn’t help it. Siv was climbing aboard, and as he had stripped for his swim, I was getting an eyeful. I’d forgotten our fight. The night before seemed unreal, like a nightmare. In happy daylight, the Beast looked good enough to eat.

  For a moment we gazed at each other. Then his eyes slid to the knife in my hand. His expression hardened. “Going to gut me?”

  Fine. If that’s how he wanted it, I could be a bitch, too. “Touch me and see.”

  “Evil-minded witch!”

  I ignored him pointedly, went portside and washed. Seawater is sticky, but I did feel refreshed. Peeing into the sea by hanging over the side was scary, but I managed that, too. By the time I was done, Bygul was growling, scoffing down fish, while Trigul was washing her whiskers. Saga was shamelessly begging for more and getting it.

  “You’re brave and fearless, a true warrior.” Siv was lavish with praise as well as food. “Have another one.”

  I was watching them, mesmerised by the contrast posed by the ripped, tattooed body, the evil expression when he’d looked at me, and the gentleness of him as he talked to the wolf.

  “She’s hurting,” he said quietly. “Can you help her?”

  “Yes.” It was a simple matter to dose a fish fillet, but when my hand brushed against his, a wave of desire flashed through me. Soft breasts and smooth skin. Breath ragged, eyes narrowed with want. My breasts! My skin! My breath! My eyes! Shaken, I pulled away.

  He was staring at me, knowing what I’d seen. His breath had quickened, but whether it was lust or fear of my talent, I couldn’t tell. I was horribly aware I was panting, too. My
nipples had puckered, their taut tips grazing my cotton shift. The bugger’s thoughts were so powerful that they’d pulled me along, melting me into want. I knew that if I shut my eyes, I would feel his hands on me. It made me furiously angry.

  “Well, witch?” Siv knew my thoughts, and his voice was mocking.

  I stuck my nose in the air. “Well, what? Prydain or Beast, it seems all men think alike.”

  His eyes flashed at the insult, and his hands balled into fists. For a moment it was touch and go whether we would fight. I was gripping my boning knife, ready to defend myself. Then he shrugged, turned away and began pulling on his leathers. I didn’t look at the long, muscled back, inked from neck to waist. At least, not much.

  Determined not to lower myself to his beastly level, I settled Saga, already yawning from her poppy syrup, and then stared doggedly out at the water. The sun was pink and pale orange as it climbed into the sky, turning the black waves a beautiful blue green. With the mild breeze and lapping waves, it was peaceful. Until I realised the dark shadow that was Prydain had disappeared from sight.

  “Uhm, Siv? Where’s the coast?”

  “Starboard side, about five miles.”

  “We can see that far when the sun’s up properly?”

  “No.” He sounded amused, at my expense. “There’s no point hugging the coast. It would take three weeks or more to get home. This way we’ll be there in half the time. Less maybe.”

  “Oh?” I was suddenly feeling the swell of the ocean under my feet. It felt massive and deadly. I instantly got a case of depths. “How deep is the water here?”

  “Not very. About a mile or so.”

  “A mile? Oh good.”

  “Another hour and we’ll be in proper ocean.” Siv was enjoying himself. I could feel the feral grin. “This rip will take us out another five miles or so, and then we hit the current.”

  “Excellent.” Farther away from solid, dependable land. “And you’ll know where we’re going because of the landmarks?”

  He just pointed. “See that bright star above the bow? That’s north.”

  For a second I was gazing at it, seeing just a point of light in the early dawn sky. Then the implications hit me. “Sweet Lady! The stars are a map?”

  “That’s right.” Siv wasn’t proud, not really. “Our forefathers figured that out when we first went to sea.”

  “Unlike us stupid Prydain?”

  He didn’t say a word, but the sleek triumph of his feelings came over loud and clear.

  I was too fascinated not to ask. “You travel the seas, navigating by the stars? You just go straight to where you want to go?”

  I thought of the duke’s ship, huge, with three sails and fifty men at oars, yet he hugged the coast at all times. On his one trip to Shahr Sha-eer he had crossed the Long Island Strait, the thirty-mile channel dotted with islands that ran between Haven and the far eastern continent.

  No wonder Siv was smug. Also, it brought home to me once again that I had totally underestimated him. He’d told me he’d sailed around the world several times before walking across the ice fields of Thule and then the forest of Prydain, but it had not sunk in what that meant. He could flourish at sea, survive on a frozen waste, and travel where he liked, even through unknown territory. This man had skills I couldn’t even guess at.

  I’d also known he was a fighter, but to take on a dozen armed men with a knife and a sickle and win, easily, was a feat beyond a Llanfaes mercenary.

  As I pondered, Siv was lowering the sails. Tying them up neatly, he stepped over Saga and waved me over to the tiller. “Sit here.”

  “What?” I just stared at him.

  “I need to sleep. Your turn to work.”

  “I can’t sail!”

  “You don’t have to.” The blue eyes were cold. “I’ve dumbed the job down for you.”

  Charming. But seeing I was feeling pretty useless, I got up and went to sit on the bench by the tiller.

  Siv was looming over me, muscles hard and hot right in front of my face. He smelled of the sea, salty yet fresh. The wolves were bristling, the snakes writhing, but he was determinedly cool.

  “Hold it lightly.” He put a large hand over mine, showing me how to work the tiller. “Now line up the bow with the star.”

  “Like this?”

  “Yes.” He stretched and yawned, the wolves dancing. “The sea will carry us along. Just make sure everything stays lined up. When the star fades, or if anything happens, wake me.”

  He lay down next to Saga, put an arm over his eyes, and was asleep. At first I was glued to my seat, eyes on the star, and my hand gripping the tiller till it cramped. But gradually the gentle breeze and calm of the ocean got through to me. I still had a case of depths, but as the boat absorbed the waves, rocking solidly without even suggesting capsizing, I decided I was probably safe.

  By the time Bygul finished cleaning her whiskers and went back to the wicker box for a nap, leaving Trigul exploring every inch of our new home before finally curling up with the Beast and Saga, I was experimenting, moving us a little off course and then back again.

  When I felt I had the feel of the tiller, there was nothing to do but think. Despite the sleep and the new dawn, it was depressing. I found myself going over everything again, but try as I might, I couldn’t convince myself I should’ve let Siv burn.

  “You’re a lunatic,” I told myself. “He’s a merciless killer.”

  But I remembered the gentle way he’d dealt with Saga, the same as he’d treated his little sister in that dream we’d shared. On impulse, I stretched out a foot and touched his leg. Nothing. I closed my eyes and reached out with my senses. All I got was peace.

  I opened my eyes and sat upright. My attempt at being the best witch ever wasn’t going so well. Then I tried to calm my mind and look into the future. Again nothing.

  “Lizbeth.” He sighed and rolled over. His foot brushed mine and then, trees all around, and a crossroads. We could turn left and go to Haven, or straight ahead and head for home.

  Rune saying, “We need to think long term. We need women, mothers for our children. We should keep these, and make our peace with them.”

  Siv, furious at just the idea, snarling, “Never!”

  But Brant was thinking it over. “It is good to have a woman in your bed.”

  “They’re our enemy, and poisonous cheats to boot,” Siv again. “If there’s no wergelt, we’ll sell them as thralls.”

  “Think with your head, Siv.” Rune again. “Your gut’s leading you astray.”

  “Or think with your cock,” Brant grinned. “It’s what you usually use.”

  I snapped back into the present, my body shaking with raw emotion. That moment had been a crossroads for the Beasts and for Siv. I’d felt his horror, his disgust, and his rage as if it had been my own. He hated the Prydain with all his soul, yet while he’d ranted at Rune, he’d known surrender was inevitable. He’d faced a stark choice: join with a hated enemy or face oblivion.

  A gust of wind reminded me of essentials. I held onto the tiller, guiding the boat back on course. I tried to put it together. The destruction of Thule, the Skraeling homeland, their betrayal at Brighthelme, and the events that followed were a nightmare. Just being a spectator to parts of it crushed me, yet Siv had survived them all. Back in that cage, hogtied and tortured, his will to live had burnt like a flame.

  I looked at the sleeping man, his arm now curled around Saga. He was so tough in some ways, and completely thin-skinned in others. The slightest insult provoked fury. If I’d been a man, he would’ve challenged me ten times in an hour, just for looking at him wrong.

  And there it was. Wild and dangerous, yes, but it finally occurred to me that I’d hurt him. “I guess I’m all out of options.” I cringed as the words came racing back to memory. I’d said it unthinkingly, but now I could see I had wounded him.

  Typical Siv, though, would die before letting me see his hurt. The Skull Crusher was all about pride. He wouldn’t even
admit to broken bones. My mind went straight back to the battle the night before. He wasn’t fully healed yet, but he’d shown no hesitation in protecting me. He could’ve died facing those Vale men, but he’d gone in like a hero.

  A hero. The word hung in my mind. I’d been so grateful in that dark night of terror. He’d saved us all, and in the bright sunshine of the day I knew it had been an entirely unselfish act. He’d come running because we were in trouble, not because he saw an opportunity to snag a vala as a thrall. Then I’d repaid him by wounding him.

  The second I understood that, my fear vanished. I’d been a complete fool, my mind tainted by the fear and the fight at the lodge. Siv wouldn’t hurt me. He’d said the nastiest thing he could think of, just to get back at me. I looked at the hard, angular face; the sensuous, full lips; the long, lean body, and I admitted a truth: despite everything, I liked him.

  The Beast was tough, brave, and resolute, and even though my talent frightened him, he’d not let his fear do his thinking for him. He’s considered and then accepted me. In all my life, Siv Skull Crusher was my first and only true friend.

  There he lay, alien to me in so many ways and yet dear, too. That honest voice inside me was saying I hadn’t simply been swept along by his passion; I wanted him as well.

  Despite my burgeoning feelings, I couldn’t avoid the knowledge that this was also a dangerous man, vicious even, and deadly often. But was it fair to judge him for Brighthelme and all that had followed? At that, my certainty faltered.

  War is cruel. Not only had I witnessed our duke’s doings in countless visions, but in our village the smith boasted of killing a man at Haven fifteen years ago, while Durwyn prided himself on his thrall Helga and a silver service looted in Volgard. I didn’t like it, but I’d not said anything to them. And yet I’d lambasted Siv for doing precisely the same.

  Was I a fool for liking a Beast or a hypocrite for holding him to different standards? I fretted over the question without getting anywhere until the sun was high in the sky. Eventually my thoughts were interrupted by a little wave that made the sea froth and the boat rock from side to side. Saga was out cold, but it upset the cats, who went back to their basket, practically pulling the lid shut behind them.