Immortal Defiance

by Laura Maybrooke

  She swallowed. “Thank you for the offer, my lord, but I will walk. As much as I wish to be swift, I cannot step into the land of the dead again.”

  “I understand your fear, but if you’ll allow me, I could help you overcome it.”

  “… How would that work?”

  “You know how.” He looked her straight in the eye.

  She paled. “Mind control.”

  “Yes. If you are honest about wishing to make haste, you will not get a better offer than this. I am not mean; I will gain nothing from embarrassing you.”

  Dulcea rubbed her arm, considering his words. “I am not sure I follow…”

  Krath shrugged. “I have no ulterior motive, nor do I seek to trap you. I only wish to advocate caution. It is dangerous to fall unconscious in the Netherworld: it often leads to only your lifeless body returning to the land of the living. Fear and distress can both lead to this. I am asking to protect you by taking control of your mind. You would still experience some discomfort, but the Netherworld would not frighten you so long as you stayed in my arms.”

  His calmness and sincerity amazed her. His unlikely defeat had ruined all his plans for her, and yet Krath accepted it without complaint, almost as if it had been his wish all along. He did not seem annoyed; he did not seek to persuade her to linger, and he did not go back on his word and call their agreement void. She had no power over him: he could have done anything he wanted, and yet he stood by what he promised.

  “Why would you do that, my lord?” She could not help the puzzled tone of her voice. “Why would you go through all that trouble for me? What do you expect to have in payment?”

  “I wish for nothing in return, asides perhaps your goodwill. I wish to do this as a sign of respect, my lady. You said you would not take up arms against me nor reveal my presence here, and you said you wished there to be no enmity between us. I value your promise. As much as I loathe to part ways with you, it would please me to see you safe back where you wish to go.”

  Dulcea had no desire to study his motives. All that mattered was that she would have her freedom, and she would have walked the Netherworld every day if that was what it took to achieve it. If it pleased Lord Krath to see her off in this manner, she would not scorn it.

  “All right,” she said, and he flashed a smile at her.

  Her stomach twisted in a strange, enticing way. A part of her remembered how blissful it had been to worship him. A sudden heaviness overpowered her, and a wicked little voice whispered in her ear how delightful it would be to get to embrace this man for one last time. Krath expected her to go on with her life as if they had never met, so there ought to be no harm in letting him charm her for a moment. There was no harm in enjoying it, either; nobody would ever know. A more dignified voice added that speed was of essence here, and she needed to get back to her main camp as soon as possible.

  She looked away, not wanting to study her own motives any further, either.

  “Thank you, my lord. If you do this, it would indeed ensure my goodwill. I would appreciate it if you were to take me to West Ford, by the Amon Sea. Somewhere on the outskirts, like you suggested.”

  Krath nodded. They both stood up, and Dulcea realized she was in the wrong attire.

  “Oh, I cannot go like this!” She looked down at her dress. “It will raise suspicion, and they will want to know where I have gotten this gown. Do you still have the clothes in which you found me?”

  “Yes, I think.” He frowned. “If you can call those clothes…”

  Dulcea blushed, recalling the state of her clothing.

  “If I am to avoid any mention of you, I must appear like I escaped the Saruseans on my own. For that, I will need my own clothes, the few filthy tatters that they are.”

  “And how do you mean to explain your escape?”

  Dulcea pondered it for a moment.

  “I will tell them I cannot remember,” she said. “My generals will notice the curse blocking my powers, and I will claim it also affects my memory. I will say I can remember next to nothing of these past three days.”

  “Very well, my lady. I will have the maids bring the clothes to your room. I will first take your Staff near the camp, and then I will come to fetch you. This will not take long; you will soon be on your way.”

  Just like that… Dulcea was breathless at the speed at which things were now progressing. She had stated on purpose in her terms for the game that she wished to leave at once should she win—that eliminated any chance of being tricked into staying. It was clear from his behavior that the vampire had taken her statement to heart.

  At once truly meant at once to him.

  They parted with a nod of agreement. Krath stepped into the Netherworld, and Dulcea turned to face Mey, who had just emerged from a hidden corridor. The maid gave her a curtsy and opened the door for her. Dulcea fidgeted. Mey was her usual swift self, but everything she did was too slow for her now.

  “We must walk faster,” she said to Mey, heading toward her tower room in hurried strides, forcing the maid to run after her.

  Krath would not take long to accomplish his task, and Dulcea wanted to be ready when he returned. She did not want to make him wait or have him enter her room while she was still naked. Dulcea supposed he might have been enough of a gentleman to knock if the door was closed, but she was not willing to take the risk.

  “Are my clothes already in my room?” Dulcea asked Mey as they ran up the spiral staircase of the tower, two steps at a time.

  She panted. “I do not know, milady.” She sounded distressed.

  To Dulcea’s relief, Lucindra and Violetta were already in the room when she arrived with Mey. The maids had brought what remained of her clothing, laying the garments on the bed. Dulcea inventoried the items with a quick glance: a corset, a pair of soft leather trousers, and a single boot. To her dismay, the clothes were clean. Her story would have been more credible if she was dirty and blood-stained, but that couldn’t be helped now.

  Dulcea discarded the lone boot: the resulting imbalance from wearing it would only make walking difficult. She had the maids help her switch clothes while she pulled the pins out of her hair and shook it out. Dulcea rubbed it between her palms to make it look ruffled and tangled, but it produced only a limited effect. She was still busy with the final touches when the maids suddenly withdrew a step in unison and curtsied to someone behind her. Dulcea turned around and saw Krath.

  “I have taken care of your Staff, my lady.” He bowed to her. “If you’ll allow me, I will now deliver you to the same place.”

  Dulcea’s mouth turned dry. Anxiety and nervousness filled her every pore.

  “What do I have to do?” she asked in a whisper, frozen on her feet.

  “I would first have you calm down,” he said. “I will do nothing to you against your will. You will come to me when you are ready.”

  There was nothing threatening or seductive about his manner. He did not smile, all traces of sarcasm gone from his face. His look was straight and honest. He did not even smirk at her ridiculous outfit. If he enjoyed this situation somehow, he did not show it.

  Bravery sizzled in her veins. Dulcea raised her chin and caught his eye.

  Krath extended a hand to her.

  There was something eerily final and submissive about taking his hand. Dulcea hesitated. She appreciated his consideration, but a part of her wished he would have been less of a gentleman. If he had just clasped her into his arms, she could have better pretended he was only doing it to shock her. Now he touched her because she willed it so.

  Dulcea heard the shuffle of the maids’ gowns behind her as they left the room, recognizing they were no longer needed. She did not want to look like a coward, so she forced her feet to move. She came to stand in front of Krath, as close as she dared, which was still a whole arm’s length away.

  “You will need to be a good deal closer than that, but this will do for now,” he said.

  “What happens next?”

 
“You’ve been here before, my lady. You know what will happen.” His voice was soft. “Look at me.”

  Dulcea looked him in the eyes and tried to relax. His eyes were beautiful. Their pale turquoise color created a captivating contrast with his thick black lashes, dark eyebrows, and raven hair. He was handsome, but it was his expression rather than any physical manifestation of his attractiveness that made her weak before him. Dulcea had stared into his eyes before, but never like this—never without challenge. The look in them puzzled her. They were not the hard eyes of a killer or the emotionless eyes of a dead thing. His eyes spoke of intelligence, thought, sorrow, and longing.

  Her heart beat to a flustered rhythm. How were there so many sides to this man?

  She blinked, and all her concerns melted away. A rush of attraction flooded her. She had offered no resistance this time—her mind was an open field to him. Krath took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. Dulcea stepped into his embrace, twined her arms around his neck, and pressed her head against his shoulder. Great pleasure that was both soothing and exhilarating lanced her. His arms came around her. He held her tight, and in the next instant the room vanished.

  Dulcea felt out of place. She felt down to the marrow of her bones that she did not belong in this shadow world. The need to escape was immediate, but the terror of it could not touch her. Above everything else, Dulcea knew she was safe. Krath’s strong arms held her, and she trusted him. His chest was hard and comforting against her cheek. It was almost delicious to face adversity with him, the dead shapes of the Netherworld twisting and bending around them.

  The transition lasted only a few moments. Before she knew it, they were standing in a dark forest clearing somewhere near the edge of the woods at West Ford.

  Krath broke the charm as soon as they were out of the Netherworld. Dulcea took a few moments longer to recover herself, still clinging to him while in control of her own mind and actions. She pulled back with a start, and he let go of her without a word. As she stepped back from him the heel of her bare foot hit against something hard. A long and narrow black box lay on the ground behind her.

  “Your Staff,” Krath said.

  Dulcea glanced around her to orient herself. The edge of the forest was near, and beyond she spied the familiar glow of a multitude of night watch fires. Tents peaked from behind the trees. Her heart leaped at the sight. She crouched and opened the box. Her Staff of the Suns with the dragonstone still attached was inside, and taking it in her hand, she knew right away that it was genuine. She straightened, her Staff in her hand, and faced Krath. She regarded him with awe and confused respect. He had kept his word to the last, and she was now free. That meant he truly had saved her life, didn’t it?

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said with sincerity. “For everything.”

  A brief smile touched his lips.

  “No. Thank you, my lady, for your sweet company.”

  Krath pressed a hand to his chest, bowed to her, and vanished without further delay. Dulcea exhaled.

  She was free.

  ---

  A quarter of an hour later, having left Lady Dulcea in the woods near her camp at the other end of the country, Krath was back in Gwyndoorn. He gave a casual glance around the room he had planned to host his guest for a long time. She had won her freedom, but Krath was not sorry. He found this solution the best suited for his purpose. Lady Dulcea was back with her army and would continue to wage her war. The only difference was, he was no longer a stranger to her. Perhaps she thought well of him, even. He would continue to observe her as before, and if the situation allowed it, he would take the chance to speak with her again. She might not like that. It might distress her to find him paying visits to her, but then again: she might also welcome him.

  He had thought keeping her in Gwyndoorn while he considered her fate was the ideal solution, but it was not good for him. Krath frowned. She was a charming, intelligent lady and having her so close blurred his objectivity. He found himself much too attracted to her for his own liking. He would need to watch himself, else he might not have the will to remove her from the board if it became necessary. She would topple him like she had toppled his Sovereign tonight.

  Something familiar niggled at the edge of his consciousness, diverting his thoughts.

  I sense you are in a good mood, Dark One… Saranis’s voice filled his mind. I don’t think I’ve observed you this pleased in a long time. In a very long time.

  I have had an exciting night. Krath paused in front of the dressing table and picked up one of the engraved hairpins Lady Dulcea had worn in her tresses earlier that night.

  He turned the long, golden pin around in his fingers, bringing it up for a brief touch of his lips before putting it back down. What a charming lady, but much too dangerous to keep around as a prisoner. Before long she would have noticed the power she held over him, and no doubt she would have made use of it. He needed more time to think.

  I have a question, though, Saranis continued. I could not quite figure it out: did she really beat you in that game or did you let her win?

  Krath could not help the amused smile that curled his lips at the question.

  That, my scaly friend, is none of your business.

  PART TWO

  The Rebels

  Chapter 12

  The Return

  Usvameer, Camp West Ford. Blossoming Moon (spring season 7093).

  The sixth year of the Rebellion.

  The dragons had sensed her. The gentle tugging at the back of her mind intensified into a demanding roar, and Dulcea’s mind burst with the boom of their greetings.

  Lightbringer! Amparo’s voice rang with worry. Where are you? Are you safe?

  Darksun. Relief bubbled in her veins. I am in the woods near West Ford.

  Good. I thought I sensed you in that direction. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please take care of yourself in the meantime.

  I’ll find Myoden at once. Don’t worry, Amparo.

  Dulcea paused, her anger flaring. Her fingers curled tighter around the Staff.

  Spread the word and keep your eyes open for a traitor! My disappearance was no accident. A countryman by the name of Delbin Surinquel betrayed me!

  Amparo screeched. His wrath was palpable, his growl so loud it hurt her ears.

  Someone handed you over to the Saruseans? Where is that traitor now?

  I cannot say. Dulcea winced. I will speak with Myoden and see what he knows.

  Are you unhurt? His tone mellowed to concerned care.

  I am, but I think there is a curse upon me.

  A curse? Agitation laced his response. What kind of curse?

  From here on she would have to tread with care. It was dangerous to lie to him: it sometimes seemed like he could read her like an open book. More than dangerous, though, it downright pained her to deceive him. He was her best friend, but she had made a promise to a man far more frightening.

  Something blocks the use of my powers. At least that was true.

  You had best see the priest about that. He’ll know what ritual to use, unless it wears off on its own after a while.

  She hummed. There was a moment of silence, heavy and contemplative. It made her uneasy.

  How did you escape with your powers blocked? It was not accusative, only curious.

  Dulcea swallowed. There are gaps in my memory. It’s scary. I don’t know what happened. I recall a horse-drawn carriage, an underground temple, and a priest who intends to sacrifice me to his dark god. She shuddered. Then… nothing. I’m in the woods, and I don’t know how.

  How singular. Luck seems to have walked with you, Lightbringer.

  It was true. She had been lucky, even if her fortune had come with an unexpected flavor.

  I am the luckiest creature on earth, considering. I only wish I could remember.

  The story seemed implausible as soon as it left her mouth. Perhaps she should not have mentioned Neros, but it was too late to take that back now. Dulcea waited with bated
breath, but the golden leader did not doubt. It was almost ludicrous, given how poor her tale was. Perhaps her return had overwhelmed him. He might not ask now, but it would fester in his mind.

  Would she be walking on eggshells for the rest of her life, waiting for the other shoe to drop?

  Trust the priest. His tone turned firm but kind. This will not cripple you. I am sure dispelling the curse should help your memories resurface.

  Amparo’s concern for her was clear in his voice, and Dulcea felt guilty. What would he think of her, should the truth of the matter come out? Would he ever forgive her?

  She was misusing his trust and did not think he would ever understand why.

  Dulcea changed the subject. Is Ramnon Sharpclaw still at the upstream camp?

  No, but his half-sister, Cendaphyr, is. I will tell her to relay the message of your safe return to your generals at East Ford, then perhaps tomorrow we may visit there ourselves.

  Good. We need to put the rumors to rest. Tell Cendaphyr to contact me with Haden’s reply.

  Consider it done. Now, it is time… I have kept you long enough already. Make haste, my girl.

  The sun was rising in the east, lightening the last spring day of the season. It was three and a half days since her disappearance, and she looked too clean, too healthy for the story she intended to tell.

  Her bare feet were cold and grass stained, which gave her an idea. The heavy rain from a few nights previous still clung to the earth in muddy puddles: nestling in the depths of the thick, dark forest where little sunlight filtered. Dulcea set her Golden Staff aside and scooped up a handful of mud. The wet soil stuck like a sticky caress as she smeared it on her clothing and silver tresses before wiping her hands clean on her bare arms and legs.