“Yes, sire,” I answered quietly, humbled as I often was in his presence. Respectfully, I added, “But who is our enemy?”
The king looked on me approvingly. “You are perceptive, Etan. What have you discovered?”
“The men speak of cursed children. Diavok they call them. And we’ve already encountered such creatures. Who, then, is our enemy? Does Dreonine command them as he did the lords? Or do they answer to another?”
“They answer to the sorcerer who cursed them,” he said to me, confirming my chilling thoughts. “And I suspect the Sithian king knows little about them, at present. Though he will soon enough. Their sudden emergence is no mistake.”
“But why do they aid him? Was the battle at Gregthain not Dreonine’s order? Is abduction not his fingerprint?”
“It is. But given the nature of their actions, that my death was the diavok boy’s primary aim, my suspicion is we are fighting a battle on two fronts. Dreonine continues his assault on our people, challenging our peace and safety as he has long done. Meanwhile, the sorcerers seek to increase fury against him. To accelerate the war that is surely coming.”
“The diavok rise against Dreonine?”
“That is what I believe. At Bryn, the boy was alone. A trickster lurking in the shadows, casting flames to watch a town burn. But already accusations fly at Sithia’s wicked king.”
Could it be that the boy at Gregthain was never meant to be there? That he’d slipped through the carnage unnoticed to make certain our king fell? Without our leader, Omarians may rise in vengeance. Some had done so before, disobeying the king’s command. I could easily imagine it should such pointed attacks continue. But knowledge gave us an advantage.
A new question rose unbidden, and the king sensed it before I spoke a word.
Slowly settling onto a chair, careful in a way that suggested pain, the king gestured for me to do the same. “Speak your mind, son.”
I moved to a large wooden chair, but only sat on the edge of it. I was too wound up, too unsettled to relax. My thoughts tumbled free without clarity.
“Why only Talemet? Why did no other city take ill? Why did it not spread beyond the city walls?”
Pain rose in my throat, and heat to my eyes. I’d been only a child watching my mother slip away. Helping my father dig a grave for my sister.
Compassion filled the king’s eyes, and shame flooded me. He, too, had suffered a great loss, laying his wife and unborn child to rest. With no heir to succeed him, the burden on his heart was indeed greater than mine. But still, I needed to know. So I waited.
“You have a keen mind, Etan,” he said at last. “I believe you already know the answer, and that is why you’ve come to me now.”
Fear pricked my heart. “Then it was sorcery?”
“It was. Though Dreonine denies commissioning his lords to do it, and how it was done we still don’t know.”
“But you’re sure?”
The king gave a gentle warning with his eyes. I was treading a thin line. Pushing beyond my place.
“I am sure. When one has battled darkness long enough, he becomes familiar with its fingerprints.”
Silence followed. A hallowed stillness for the things lost. But what loss was still ahead of us? I wondered how we could ever defeat such illusive evil.
I made my way to the table again, glancing at the map, trailing my eyes along a river that wound between our kingdoms, flowing through Sithia before snaking through our southern region. Thirteen years ago, the body of a woman drifted across the border. I was ten, but my father let me see. Forcing me to attach grief to the moment. I shook off the image.
“Etan.”
His expression had softened. He regarded me with gentleness.
“Your father is strong. You will hold his gaze once more.”
An ache rose in my throat.
“Return to the men,” he said. “Share in their laughter. There is no better cure for a downcast heart.”
“Will you join us?”
“I think Cedric would have me eat.” He laughed quietly. “Tell the boy to return with my meal. I’ll not resist. After that, I’ll join my warriors by the fire.”
I exited the tent to golden sunlight piercing through the branches—the day’s last glow. I stood a moment enjoying the warmth, until my attention was draw to heavy footfalls crunching over the stick-littered ground. Sir Belin approached from the road, glowering.
“The men were instructed to leave His Majesty in peace,” he snapped. “Are you now above my commands?”
I tensed. “I came at Cedric’s request.”
“So, a serving boy outranks me in authority?” He stopped at my side, studying me with disdain. Muttering, he said, “I suppose that is where we’re heading.”
He lumbered on, crossing to his horse and mounting. I watched with heated blood as he rode west. Belin tolerated me as a child. I’d admired him, often following on his heels to learn his ways. Now I stood as his equal, and he couldn’t accept it.
When I returned to the fire, Maledin and Aldred were gone, as were others. While I waited for their return from hunting, my mind lingered on Belin’s tone…the demeaning way he’d spoken to me. My father often chided me for brooding in my youth; I struggled often to let go of offense. But if the king could overlook my upbringing, why could Belin not? It frustrated me, and I spent the next hour glaring into the flames.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ERIS
Fire burned at the center of the clearing, flickering in the darkness, creating shadows that tricked my eyes. Meat boiled in a pot, wafting savory smells, and my empty stomach growled.
They’d drawn up the black cloth on the fire side, allowing in the heat. Mags sat huddled in the corner, shivering. I crawled across the dirty cage and touched her forehead.
“She’s unwell,” I called to the men. “Her skin burns.”
I got no response. Mags muttered, but I didn’t catch the words.
Carter leaned his shoulder to a tree, using the point of a knife to clean beneath his nails. From the front of the cart, the brute grunted in pain.
“You’ve lived through worse,” Carter called dismissively. “I hardly think the lady’s arrow compares to a spear in your leg. Or a flail to your shoulder.”
The brute’s low voice grumbled from out of sight. “She tore an old wound.”
Carter’s eyes lifted to meet mine. He grinned. “You’d think she meant it.”
“Mags is ill,” I said again with more edge. “She needs care.”
Carter pushed off the tree and ambled closer. He tossed the knife at a stump, and it’s pointed end sank into the soft wood.
“Did you, my lady? Were you aware of his scars?”
He was toying with me. I said nothing, but never moved my glare from his approach.
“He’d have killed you, no doubt, had you engaged him hand to hand.” His head tilted, and a slow smile stretched his lips. “This one knows things.”
He reached the bars, and our eyes locked. A silent battle of wills. His hand shot through an opening, and he grabbed my wrist, yanking me forward. My free hand slammed into the bars before my face could hit them. He turned my palm toward the firelight.
Murmuring, he said, “Who knows what your eyes have seen.”
He ran his fingertips from my wrist to elbow, and I tried to pull free. His grip tightened, but no tension showed on his face. The eyes stayed fixated on my skin. On the blood lines drawn beneath.
“Release me,” I said through my teeth.
I sensed Mags watching, likely wide-eyed at my bold command. Carter didn’t react. His gaze remained on my palm. When he stepped closer, I shoved him with my free hand and tugged my arm from his grip. He stumbled back.
For a moment, his eyes held on the ground, his hand hovering where it once held me captive. Then his glare lifted, and panic skittered across my chest.
He stalked forward, and I scrambled back, but I couldn’t escape his reach. He grabbed a fistful of my tunic and y
anked me forward. My forehead hit the bars. Spots appeared in my vision, floating before the malice in his expression.
“You belong to me now. I will do as I please. Touch you as I please.”
I struggled to focus. Through the spinning and tilt, I glowered back and said, “I belong to no one.”
He tugged me harder, pressing my face to the cool metal. “You are my prize. A gift for my silence. Make no mistake, young Eris. You were never free.”
He released me with a shove, and I fell back. Numbing fear dropped over me. I never told him my name. I never told any of them.
He slumped to the tree again. The back of his hand wiped at his mouth. Slowly, his grimace smoothed to a small, pleased grin. He glanced at the other men, and they all shared a laugh.
Fear turned to anger, slipping fire through my blood.
“Mags is ill!” I shouted. “Will you not care for her?”
“She’s been ill before,” Carter said, chuckling. “It will resolve in time.”
“And if it doesn’t?” I crawled to the bars. The light of the fire brought a stabbing pain to my temple.
Carter dropped to a stump and kicked a stray log back into the flames. “Then the dead will take her.”
“Eris,” Mags murmured, shaking her head. “Let it be.”
I crawled to her side and touched my wrist again to her brow. “If only I could forage. I could find what you need.”
Her eyes closed, and she slumped against the bars. “He’ll never allow it. But it’s good to have a name for you. Eris is lovely.”
I settled beside her, out of view of the men. Pain stabbed my forehead in an unrelenting rhythm. “It’s the name my mother gave me.”
Her eyes flew open. “You told him?”
“When would I have done that?” I said, too harsh.
Mags drew back, and I regretted my tone.
“How then?” she asked meekly.
The answer arrived in a single image. A figure looming in recent memories. Towering over my childhood. I pulled up my knees and tore at pieces of hay. There was no other way. No other answer to how Carter would know me.
“I was betrayed.”
How did Nehemiah know I would run North? Were his men sent to drive me there?
Mags shifted her position, grunting when she turned. “Then we are more alike than I believed.”
“Bring the small one out,” came Carter’s order from the fire. “I need a song to lull me.”
It was defeat, not fear, that swept over Mags. She pulled away from the cage wall and moved to the door in a slow drag, chains scraping in her wake. There was no fight left in her body. There was hardly life.
“No!” I moved to block her path. From the fireside, Carter chuckled, and I knew it was all a game to him, a ploy to see me riled. Strike at the wound, as any fighter would to damage his foe. I’d shown a weakness in speaking out for Mags. Now he would exploit it.
He rose in a stretch, pleased he’d hit his mark. “Do you sing, fair Eris? I’ve heard stories, but not of your voice.” His men paused outside the cage door, waiting, salivating as a pack of dogs before a meal.
I lingered on his words. Nehemiah had never attempted to hide his disdain for me. Not once had I entertained the possibility of earning his respect. Killing me would have put an end to his long-suffered hatred, but it appeared that wasn’t his desire. He preferred that I should suffer, and it would seem he went to pains to make it so.
“Here’s my offer,” said Carter simply. “Dance for us, and your companion can rest.”
A sickening dropped to my stomach. The thought of their eyes examining my moving body, watching the lines and curves as I swayed. Mags touched my arm. The look she gave was meant to beg me no, but it wasn’t in me to refuse. I answered, “I will dance.”
“How fortunate we are!” shouted the leader. “Boys, bring forth our honored guest.”
The cage was opened, and I climbed down before their hands could grab me. Mags scrambled to the bars, gripping with tight fingers and watching with wide, worried eyes.
The open air greeted me in a soft caress of kindness. A gentle soothing to spur me on. I stepped forward on bare feet toward the fire. Memories pushed forward, beckoned by the flicker of hot flames. My wounded body throbbed with pain, and I stood a moment in the radiating warmth. For Mags, I would do this. She was a fragile creature in need of protection. I was a hardened hunter, a joyless child. Unloved by my mother. Unwanted by my father and by the drifter kind. My vision blurred before the orange heat, and I thought: perhaps freedom was never meant for me.
“Do you require music?”
I’d forgotten him, and his voice came unwelcome to my ears. I shifted my gaze to his gleaming grin and gave him no answer. His lips fell, and he considered me a moment before murmuring, “The drums, then.”
His eyes glistened with hunger, lingering on my stare as the men settled in place to watch. Perhaps I was wrong to challenge him. I stood motionless with the trees and rocks, staring into the depths of his heart and seeing only filth. Carter was accustomed to cowering. To weakness and submission. I would give him neither. He would see what I felt of him, and he would know it in his heart to be true.
A drumbeat echoed about the clearing. A sloppy, talentless rhythm lacking the precision of the drifters. The music of Nehemiah’s community was matched by none, but these traders didn’t know I found them wanting; they played with zeal. I rolled my eyes away from Carter and focused on the flames again, listening for a pattern in the beat.
A thrown rock stung my leg. A warning. I steeled my posture, unwilling to dance without purpose...even before such men. It had nothing to do with them.
Another rock, this one on my back. Laughter pierced the air.
"A little help here, Mags!” called Carter. “Our entertainment needs a melody.”
The men snickered.
My eyes closed, and I searched my memories for the song of the old musician. His face came first, twinkling in the evening light, calling me out of the shadows, a flute raised to his lips. As a child, I’d inched from my log, bare feet sliding over the soft, dry dirt. Still a thin, boney thing, belly sunken in the years before I’d learned to hunt.
His wink had won me. The first kindness I’d known in months.
The distant echo of his melody drowned the lesser drums in beauty. As I turned in the firelight before Carter and his men, reaching toward the pitch-dark forest, another face rose to memory. I’d been a child. Less than that. But the years hadn’t dulled the image of his smile, framed in bright yellow petals beneath a brilliant blue sky.
His name bounded into my mind as something long lost—Etan.
Had I known so little goodness in my life that a single moment could live on with such intensity?
Tears filled my eyes, blinding me to the salacious stares. Carter’s men whooped and cheered, clapping, and shame crushed me. The illusion broke, and though I desperately tried to reassemble the memories, they were gone. The drums stopped abruptly, and all the eyes watched in eager anticipation.
A hand slid to my hip, and I froze, dragging in breaths. His soft voice slithered over my shoulder.
“You held nothing back for us.” His fingers moved to my hair, as did his breath. “Thank you.”
I shivered, glaring into the dark wood. It occurred to me, as he stroked my hair, that I could overpower him. With a sharp swing of my elbow to his temple, he would stumble, dizzy. Were it not for the men who would run to his aid, I could have him on the ground in seconds. A knee to his groin. My grip on his throat, slamming him flat on his back. It would be easy.
Instead, I walked away in silence, feeling his fingers slip off my body. My pulse raged, but I refused to look back to see if he followed. I climbed into the cage, slamming the door closed, and settled on my knees in full view. My face betrayed nothing, but inside, a scream tore my heart to shreds.
After a moment of stunned silence, the men began their chatter, comparing me to women who’d danced before
. But Carter stood alone by the fire, his dark gaze fixed on me. I moved out of view, to the back wall with Mags.
“I fear for you,” she whispered. I drew her close, overcome by a need to shield her.
“Do you really think drums are wise,” a new voice called, “when soldiers camp not a short ride from here?”
I leaned to see. A man and horse emerged from the trees. Not towering, but strong. Dangerous in the coverings of a knight. Omarion blue. He tied his horse to a trunk, and I shrank into the shadows again, listening.
“Brother!” answered Carter, the scowl gone from his tone. “Why did you not greet me this afternoon?”
Slapping sounds followed, a hearty embrace.
“And risk association? Forgive me, but the king rode just ahead. I am his loyal subject, lest you forget.”
Carter grumbled but relented.
“Warm yourself,” he said. “Will they notice your absence?”
“I can’t stay long. I’m supposed to be hunting.”
“If that’s your excuse, you’d better not return at all. If my memory serves me, hunting wasn’t your strength.” A laugh. “But women...now there we share a common love.”
The knight’s tone darkened. “Do not compare my harmless games with what you do. You’re too much like our father.”
Footsteps approached, and a shadow pushed in. A face appeared at the bars, younger than Carter, and handsome. The same narrow nose and sharp eyes and brown hair. He looked at us only a moment before spinning back toward the fire.
“There are two in here!”
“And now he counts.”
“You promised only one. When I swore allegiance to the king, you gave me your word. That was our agreement, brother. One at a time, or I turn you in.”
“And what kind of agreement is that! What difference does the number make? You are guilty of withholding information. Will you not still be punished?”
The knight’s hand gripped a bar with white knuckles.
“If you’d seen what I saw...what the Sithians have done. They’ve taken so many...Carter, does your word mean nothing?”
Footsteps inched closer. “Does yours? Suppose I repent. I could go to the king and plead for mercy.” Quieter, Carter said, “I will tell him everything.”
Songs in the Night: Book One Page 9
