“I want your body and your soul,” Ciro whispered.
The girl smiled, and reached down to caress the prince’s erection through the tight crimson trousers he wore. Her fingers trailed there lightly for a moment, and then she stroked hard and bold, much as he stroked her.
“Body and soul, you shall have them both, my lord.”
“Freely given?”
She gasped in pleasure as his stroke grew harder. “Very freely.”
“Thank you,” Ciro whispered.
The prince placed his mouth against the girl’s throat, and while he continued to stroke between her thin thighs, he broke the tender flesh at her neck, feeding greedily on her blood and on the soul she had so foolishly given him. Ciro slurped and grunted as he fed, moaning like a man in the throes of passion.
Thanks to her enchantment, by the time the poor girl realized that something was wrong, it was too late. She was weakened by loss of blood, and Ciro was much stronger than he had been when he’d first invited her to sit on his knee. She struggled to get away, but the prince held her fast and attempted to fill his own eternal emptiness with someone else’s soul.
Fynnian knew that it would work, for a while, but eventually Ciro would be hungry again. Soon he would be strong enough to take a soul without permission, and when that happened... when that happened, there would be no turning back for Ciro, and together he and Fynnian would be unstoppable.
After the girl was dead and her soul had been emptied into Ciro’s body, the prince continued to fondle her with one hand while he gnawed upon her ruined throat with leisure. Fynnian was both fascinated and repelled by the sight. When the transformation was complete, would Ciro be more beast than man? Or would he be entirely beast?
Finally, Ciro allowed the husk of the girl to drop to the floor. She landed there limp and forgotten.
“Thank you,” Ciro said, sated and appearing quite sleepy. With the back of his hand, he wiped away the few drops of blood that stained his lips. In the early days his feedings had been quite messy, but he had become much more adept at the ritual. “I feel better.”
“Of course you do.”
When the Isen Demon stole a living man’s soul, the resulting hunger was tremendous, or so Fynnian had heard. The ancient writings which had led him to this place in time had been written more than a thousand years ago. It had been that long since the demon had risen. The soulless man would feed upon other souls endlessly, searching for relief, but the souls he ingested were never his to keep. The Isen Demon eventually took them all. The Isen Demon took the souls its vessel fed upon, and it became stronger with each feeding.
So did the vessel.
The Isen Demon had been defeated in the past, so long ago when it dared to attempt to gain power. Of course, Fynnian hadn’t been there to guide and care for the demon, more than a thousand years ago. The vessel it had possessed had been killed before the demon could build sufficient power. That wouldn’t happen this time. Fynnian would see to that.
Some men might be afraid to share such close quarters with an animal such as Ciro had become, but Fynnian had everything under control. Ciro loved Rayne, and Fynnian controlled his daughter. That alone would be enough to keep the future emperor in line for a while longer.
Ciro didn’t have to know that the love he felt for the beautiful Rayne was the product of an enchantment, any more than he needed to know that it had been Fynnian who’d offered the boy’s soul to the Isen Demon.
Chapter Three
After an almost sleepless night, Sian felt oddly energized. He ran up the winding steps, the snap of his boot heels clacking and echoing off the stone walls. His mission made sense in a way it had not before. His grandfather had sent him here not simply to deliver the prophesy to Emperor Arik, but to discover the very foundation of the new enemy. This palace was the source of the evil that threatened the world. This was where the seed of darkness had taken hold.
A faint, breathless voice reached him. “I cannot run any longer,” Ariana called. “If you are determined to run all the way to Level One, please proceed. I’ll meet you there.”
Sian turned to wait for his pupil. True, she was a woman and as such was not accustomed to physical exertion. Her legs were shorter than his, and her cumbersome gown was not fashioned for moving with ease. He frowned as he watched her climb slowly. When the time came, Ariana would not fight only with her magic. She would face monsters in a very real physical battle, and she could not do so wearing fine palace fashions.
She needed more than magical tutoring. Her physical stamina was not sufficient for what awaited her.
“You were the one who suggested Level One as the location to begin searching for a seed of darkness.”
“True, but I did not say that I wished to race you to the top of the palace.” Her face was flushed, her hair in disarray. That wild disarray seemed to be a usual condition for her, thanks to all the curls that wound this way and that. She’d made an attempt to restrain the curls, pulling them back and pinning them down, but they would not stay in place. She was composed in the face of her new calling, and she dressed in an austere manner, but her hair hinted at another aspect to her personality.
Sian shook off the odd thoughts. It was just hair. Why did he allow his imagination to run wild where this woman was concerned? Perhaps he was trying to avoid the more obvious challenges. He could strengthen her magic; he could teach her a few new tricks. But how on earth would he prepare her for the physical tests to come?
They continued the climb side by side, and at a slower pace. “My mother always said this was an evil place,” Ariana said, her eyes focused on the steps ahead. “Emperor Sebestyen was horribly wicked, she said, and his last empress, Liane... We don’t talk about her much. She was my father’s sister.”
A shiver of pure surprise danced through Sian. “Truly? I did not know.”
“Few people do. She and her baby fled after the palace fell in the final battle of the War of the Beckyts, after Sebestyen died. They were killed by thieves.”
“I know the story,” Sian responded. “It’s quite tragic.”
“So tragic my parents refuse to so much as discuss Liane or the baby. They did tell me that this palace was Liane’s ruination. She was captured at a young age, and made a concubine against her wishes. Her circumstances changed her. This palace and the people in it destroyed her soul and her heart.”
“Your parents think of this palace as evil, they swear it destroyed your aunt, and yet they allowed you to come here?”
Ariana smiled. It was a pleasant smile, bright and real in spite of the dangers she was about to face. “They didn’t so much allow me as not tie me down when I told them what I wanted to do. They did send my brother Duran with me, and they said if I ever decided I wanted to come home, he would be my escort. I think in their mind I’m still six years old and helpless.”
“I suspect they simply wanted something different for you.”
Ariana sighed. “My mother was certain that the only way I would be happy was if I lived as she did. She wanted me to marry and have children. Lots of them, if she had her way. She said I could use my talents as a healer right there in Shandley. When I told her I wanted to do more with my life, she didn’t understand. My father simply didn’t want me out of his sight. He’s rather overly protective.”
As many fathers were, where daughters were concerned. Sian wondered, momentarily, if he would have been such a father. Best not to allow his mind to wander there. “I thought every woman desired above all what your mother wanted for you.”
“That goes to show how very little you know about women,” Ariana teased.
“True enough,” Sian admitted.
After a few more steps, Ariana turned her head to look at him. “Are you married?”
“What difference does it make?”
“It doesn’t. I’m just curious.”
They reached Level One, and thankfully that put an end to the questioning.
These days, the
once fine hallways of Level One were deserted. Not only deserted, but very obviously abandoned. Anything that might be of use had been carted off long ago. Spiderwebs and the scurrying of small critters made the long dearth of human residence quite plain.
Ariana did not seem to be bothered by the conditions of Level One. As she walked toward an uncovered window and the light it allowed to fall onto the stone floor, she trailed her fingertips along the walls and gazed about curiously. She was not squeamish, and that was good.
He still couldn’t imagine this woman fighting battles of any kind. His mother and his long-deceased wife were the only women he had ever known well. Others came and went, but he didn’t know them. He didn’t understand them at all, nor did he want to. In spite of their varying circumstances, females were all delicate and fragile and given to moments of weakness. Even his mother, who had been quite strong when strength had been required of her.
Did Ariana have that sort of strength inside her? For her sake, he hoped so.
The hallways were eerie, but were nothing to compare to the vast emptiness of the grand ballroom. Side by side, Sian and Ariana walked through the opened double doors. If the tales were true, it was here that Emperor Sebestyen had tortured and killed the men and women who displeased him. If evil could linger in the walls, in the air, then it was very possible the darkness they had yet to fight had taken root here.
Ariana walked to the center of the room and looked up. Sian copied her move, wondering what she was searching for. A large section of the ceiling had obviously been patched. The stones there were smaller in size, and the grout had not aged in just the same way.
The wild-haired healer pointed up and smiled. “My mother did that. She stood face to face with the emperor, when he was trying to force her to marry him, and blew a hole in the ceiling.”
“Did she, now?” If her mother was that powerful, it was no wonder Emperor Arik had immediately thought of the woman when he’d heard the word fine. “And then what?”
Ariana shrugged. “I don’t know. Poppy would never let her tell us the rest. I can guess, though. Mama’s talent is fertility.”
“Then I suppose the fact that she has only nine children is a blessing.”
“I suppose,” Ariana said absently as she glanced around the cavernous room. “We’re here. Now what?”
Sian crossed the room to join Ariana. “Have you ever studied the gift of healing, or do you simply accept what comes naturally to you?”
“I’ve studied the design and uses of potions and poultices. I understand that I have a gift for healing that goes beyond medicines that anyone can produce, but that gift simply is. I call on it when I can, but such a gift can’t be taught or learned. What else is there to study?”
“Much,” he said softly. Sian preferred to keep his distance from women like this one, but if he was to do what needed to be done, he would have to touch her. He stood behind Ariana, reached around her slender body, and took her wrists in his hands. He forced her to turn those hands palms up. “Healing, like all magic, is rooted in manipulation of energy. Energy is everywhere. It’s all around us. Bright, dark, weak, powerful. We all abound with energy. Most illness is an imbalance of that energy, and a true healer can bring those energies into alignment with a mere touch.” He raked his thumb down the palm of Ariana’s right hand, and as he did so, he shifted some of his own power into her. She felt it. He knew that to be true because her body twitched. “The gift that you say simply exists inside you can be practiced, enhanced, and ultimately vastly improved. Look around you, healer.” Her hands were soft and small and gentle, but not without their own sort of power. “What do you see?”
Ariana looked up first, and she gasped. “Oh, my. After all this time...”
“What do you see?” he asked again.
“My mother, I think. All around the repaired place in the ceiling is... warmth.” Was it his imagination, or did Ariana suddenly grow warmer? The body close to his, the gentle healer’s hands. Yes, she did grow much warmer. “I see a yellow cast, like a softly glowing sun. Love.”
Which made it unlikely the darkness they sought had started in this room. Still, this was a good and powerful lesson, one Ariana needed. “And in the rest of the room? Tell me what you see. Concentrate.”
Ariana stood in his arms, relaxed and rejuvenated, more comfortable than she’d been when he’d first touched her. They were oddly and comfortably connected, their energies melding. “I see red. Passion. Yes, I think passion. There’s also a dirty gray... hate. There’s a knotted energy, muted colors tied up in a tight little ball. That’s confusion, I believe, or maybe anger. I can’t be sure. Oh, there’s so much energy here.”
Sian could amplify her abilities with his touch, but he did not share them. He did not see what his pupil could see. “Is there blackness?”
Ariana studied the room carefully. “I see some spots of black, but they’re small and overpowered by the other energies. They hide from the yellow, and from the red, and from the white. Did I tell you there’s white?”
He released his hold on Ariana, and as he backed away, she spun to face him.
“How did you do that?” Her green eyes were lively, her lips rosy and slightly parted. She was lovely, and he could not afford to notice that loveliness.
“In time you will be able to see energy without my help.”
“You can teach me that?”
“I hope so.” If she could read energy, it would give her a decided edge. “In any case, this room is not the source of the darkness that threatens us. From what you described, there’s more positive energy than negative, and if the darkness had begun here, then the spots of black you saw would either be gone or dominant. From your description, they were neither.”
“If not here, then where?”
Sian crossed his arms and glared at his pupil. “You tell me, healer. You have seen many different types of energy, here in this room. We’re looking for darkness. We’re looking for a dominance of black. We’re looking for an absence of love, hope, and passion. Where in this palace does the darkness reside?”
Ariana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She turned her hands over so the palms were up. She was a quick study.
Sian wished he could believe that his interpretation of the prophesy was wrong. His grandfather had rambled, scribbling in the margins, quickly penning what he saw. What he knew. Some parts of the prophesy were unclear, but Sian understood what was written there too well. Ariana Varden should live the life her mother wanted for her. A husband, babies, laughter. Safety.
She would have none of those in what remained of her short life.
Finally her eyes flew open and she gasped. “Of course.” With those two inadequate words, she turned and ran from the room.
Sian followed, stalking after her, refusing to run as she did. He had no idea where she was headed, or why, so he asked, “Where are you going?”
Ariana cast him a bright smile over her shoulder, and at that moment she looked much too young and innocent to take up this fight. “Level Thirteen!”
***
“There is no Level Thirteen.”
With a newfound energy, Ariana moved down the stairwell as quickly as she could. Sian was able to keep up with her easily.
“Yes, there is,” she responded.
“Level One is the top floor, Level Ten is the ground floor, Level Eleven houses lowly positioned soldiers and servants, and Level Twelve is a prison. There is no Level Thirteen.”
Ariana stopped on the landing at Level Five, and turned to face her tutor as he came to a halt close beside her. Her face was overly warm, and she was breathless. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it pounding in her chest. “My Aunt Isadora was imprisoned in Level Thirteen for a time, twenty-five years ago. It might not have been in use during Emperor Arik’s reign, but that doesn’t mean it no longer exists.”
Sian’s stern expression was that of a man who was rarely wrong, and who didn’t like to admit it when he w
as. “Perhaps your aunt spun a tale for your amusement.”
“Unlikely.” A part of Ariana wanted to continue running downward, but in truth she needed to catch her breath. Besides, she wasn’t sure she was ready to face the reality of Level Thirteen. Aunt Isadora had not spoken much of her time in the pit beneath the palace, and if a few of the elder cousins had not heard a portion of a conversation that had not been meant for their ears, she might never have known of its existence.
Nothing in life happened entirely by chance. If her days as a healer had taught her nothing else, she knew there were no accidents. Every small moment, every choice, led to something. Perhaps she had been guided to a position where she might overhear that long-ago conversation solely so she could understand what was happening now.
Perhaps it was her turn to do a bit of teaching. Ariana sat on the top step, looking down at the winding stair she’d be taking in a few moments, and patted the stone beside her. Sian was hesitant, but he did eventually sit beside her. His expression was as stony as the walls of the palace, and she had to wonder if he had ever been young and carefree, like her brother Duran or her Anwyn cousins. He did not look like a man who had ever been a boy without cares.
“When Sebestyen was in power, he thought nothing of tossing his enemies into the prison on Level Twelve.”
“This I know,” Sian said dryly.
“But for some prison was not sufficient.” Ariana leaned back, resting on her hands. “Have you heard of the drug Panwyr?”
That question elicited a response. Sian’s long black-clad body twitched. “Yes, of course. Nasty stuff. Dreadfully addictive.”
“So I hear. Emperor Sebestyen would drug his enemies, as well as the wives who had lost their appeal, and then he’d toss them into this hole beneath Level Twelve. Every day or two the guards would toss down Panwyr and food, but not enough for everyone. The prisoners fought and killed one another for the drug or their food. They lived in the dark, like animals, and eventually, became little more than animals.”
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