Cursed by Ice (5 page)

“You can’t mean that. I am the only means you have of controlling him. Everyone wants to be able to control him. To make him fight for their cause. Why should you be any different?”

“As much as I would love to have a wyvern on my side in a battle, I have already proven that I can do just fine without one.” He again leaned toward her. “If you choose to stay with me, and your wyvern along with you, that will be solely your decision. Otherwise, once you are healed, you are free to go and take the thing with you.”

She stared at him gape mouthed. “Y-you would just let me leave?”

“Yes.”

“You are a liar!” she hissed.

“There’s one way to find out,” he said. “Lie back and heal. When you are well, you will see.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then seemed to think better of it and kept her words to herself. He wanted to press her, maybe to make her realize he was being truthful or maybe to simply poke at her and watch the fire inside her eyes rise up in defiance.

He stood up and moved away from her just as a mem was entering the tent.

“There, now,” the old woman cackled. “Let’s see how you are doing.”

The mem walked over to the girl and reached to unbutton the long robe she wore. She slapped the mem’s hands away harshly.

“Leave me be!” she said.

“So you wish to remain a slave, then?” Garreth asked archly.

“Wh-what?” she said.

“You are a slave until you heal, remember? Let the woman heal you. The sooner you are well, the sooner you will be on your way.”

This time when the mem reached for the buttons, the girl let her do it. They came undone one at a time, each one slipping free to reveal more and more skin beneath the blue fabric. Finally the mem pulled the whole left side of the robe back, baring the girl’s full breast to the open air. Hastily the girl covered her breast with her hand to guard it from his sight, but not before he saw the dark violet nipple that tipped it pucker in the cool air.

Garreth was shocked to feel a visceral response ricocheting throughout his body. Looking at the landscape
of fair purple skin and that stunningly responsive nipple, he grew stone hard. As he stood there, stewing in the sensation, he found himself wondering what her skin smelled like. Wondering if that berry-colored nipple would taste like a kind of sweet, succulent fruit. She would be powder soft, he thought to himself. Her skin silky and smooth. But that nipple would be hard and stiff.

He broke out of the trance when he heard her hiss in a breath as the mem pulled back the bandage on her shoulder to look at the wound there. The bolt had since been removed and he found he was both pleased with himself for making such a great shot, while in action and at such a distance, and regretting the pain he was causing her because of it.

Then the mem pulled the robe open farther, exposing the girl’s slightly rounded belly and her left hipbone. Three horrible wounds were on the girl’s belly.

“How were you injured thus?” he demanded to know. Someone had stabbed her cruelly, made a pincushion out of her. And the wounds were fresh, no more than a couple of hours old. Had they punished her because of the wyvern’s failures? Had they tried to kill her so he would not gain control of both her and the beast?

She met his eyes in fiery defiance. “You did it.”

“You lie! I never touched you with a sword!”

“No, but you tried to slay Koro with one!”

“Koro?” he asked dumbly.

“The wyvern,” she hissed.

“Oh dear gods … You express the wounds of the wyvern on your own body?”

She gave a short nod of her head. “And he expresses mine on his. So you see, try as you might,
I
will not heal until the
wyvern
is healed. And vice versa.”

“That is a terrible thing! What if the wyvern had been killed?” he asked angrily.

“Then I would have died. But it is the wyvern who has the raw end of the deal, for if I die, he dies as well … and I am much easier to kill than he is. So now you know. All your problems will be solved if you but take a sword to my neck.”

He frowned and moved closer to her, gazing down at her wounded body and her bared skin.

“What is your name?” he asked, suddenly realizing he had not asked it of her.

She went tight lipped again for a moment and he thought she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. She had no control over her situation and her life, and this was one small thing she could try to control. But she surprised him all the same as she reluctantly said, “Sarielle.”

It was a beautiful name. Appropriate for a beautiful woman, he thought. And she was that and very much more. His aroused body could attest to that fact.

“Well, Sarielle,” he said as he watched the mem button her back up, “you have a very serious problem.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked dryly, running her gaze along the length of the chain holding her there.

“Yes. And what I mean to say is, your wyvern was injured by a god-made weapon, Sarielle. His wounds will not mend on their own. Only a mage or mem will be able to provide the healing he needs.”

“How stupid do you think I am?” she scoffed. “You are trying to get me to bring him here, out of hiding. Promising him healing when I’m sure once you’ve lured him here you will capture him for some nefarious purpose or kill him!”

“Sarielle,” Garreth said patiently as he met her eyes. “You said yourself all I have to do is kill you in order to kill the wyvern. So why would I bother with luring him here if I can simply cut your pretty little throat?”
He reached down and drew a gentle finger from one side of her throat to the other.

Ah yes. Her skin was just as soft as it had promised to be.

“I cannot bring him here,” she said softly, a fine tremor going through her again and again. “He will not come, so don’t ask it of me.”

“Why won’t he come? If you control him—”

“I do not control him like that! He is not a slave to me! He is a magnificent, independent creature who happens to love me, soul to soul, and therefore will do anything to protect me if I ask him to. But my mind does not control his mind. His mind does not control mine. But we … I feel him. His pain and confusion. His worry for my safety. His strong dragon’s heart is brave, but right now he is frightened and he is hiding. He would not come to me even if I begged him to. I would have to go and find him.”

“Go? You can barely get out of bed.”

“If you let me go, I promise you I can make it to his side. I will find a way to heal him. Please … just let me go and—”

“No,” Garreth said with finality.

“Then you are a liar! You have no intention of setting me free at all!”

“I have no intention of letting you run around in the world half healed and weakened. That wyvern is hiding in the Asdar Mountains, some of the rockiest terrain known to man. Just how far do you think you could get in a place like that when you can barely lift your left arm? No. First, we heal what we can of you. The bolt wound is yours and so can be healed, yes?”

“Yes,” she answered cautiously, narrowing her eyes on him. Honestly he could not blame her. It sounded like her life gave her little reason to trust anyone.

“So we will heal it first. Then we can talk more. Now,
get some rest. It is almost dusk and I … I will return later,” he said moving toward the entrance of the tent.

“Your name is Garreth, yes?” she asked suddenly. He turned back to her and nodded. “I heard it from one of your men.”

“I see.”

“I do not believe you are going to be as benevolent as you say,” she said defiantly. “But I will heal since it is in my best interest to do so … not because it is in yours.”

“I am content with that. Now I must go. You will be taken to the keep later and I will join you there after juquil’s hour so we can speak of this further. Perhaps you will find our goals are not so different after all.”

“I wish to be taken to my rooms!” she said, making him look back at her with a hard look. “I-in the keep,” she explained hastily. “I have my rooms in the keep. You can easily hold me there.” She sighed. “It comes equipped with manacles.”

The reminder of her enslavement made him frown stormily. “He kept you in shackles?”

“Often,” she muttered. “Whenever I misbehaved. Which I am proud to say could be quite often.”

That lightened him with amusement. “Why does this not surprise me?” he said to no one in particular. “Very well. Your rooms. I will see it done and see you there later.”

With that, he left the tent.

CHAPTER
FOUR

Sarielle was pacing her rooms anxiously. Her entire life was suddenly in turmoil and she didn’t know how to navigate this new world with this new man controlling her fate. At least she had learned ways to manipulate the bennesah to her benefit over the turnings.

Well, sometimes anyway. She had learned how to protect herself and the things she held most dear.

The ones she held most dear.

Her sisters Jona and Isaelle.

The twins were being held in the keep, as serving girls in the kitchens, under the tight and watchful eye of the kitchen matron, Soa, who could be a cruel taskmistress. Sarielle should know; she grew up in the kitchens with Soa holding power over her and her mother, who had been a cook. The best cook in the kitchens, it was said. Her mother, Beah, had been lauded by their master, praised and given special considerations for her fantastic meals and the sheer magnificence of her skills. She had been allowed the rare privilege of keeping her children close by as she birthed and raised them.

Then Sarielle’s mother had died, soon after their father, whom Beah had loved beyond reason; he had been killed in a horrible wagon accident while getting supplies
from a caravan in the mountains. It was believed Beah had suffered from a broken heart. Not even the knowledge that her three daughters would be left behind to fend for themselves had managed to keep her on this physical plane. No. She had much preferred to go to Kitari and the eight heavens with their father than stay with them.

So, that had left Sarielle with the responsibility of caring for her sisters. She had suffered under the cruelty of Soa for turnings as she struggled to become a cook of the same caliber as her mother … and failed to do so. But while her cooking did not shine, her efforts did. She was a hard worker and was passionately loyal to her family. She would do anything to better their place in the world.

Anything at all.

Including binding her soul to a deadly wyvern.

It was only a matter of time before this barbarian learned of her small sisters and used them to manipulate her, just as the bennesah had.

Call the wyvern to protect us or I will have your sisters’ throats slit right here where we stand
.

The barbarian invader was not to be trusted. The destruction in the city alone was proof of that. He had come to conquer and he had done just that. The only small satisfaction to be had was watching the bennesah grovel for his place of comfort in the ruins of his city. He deserved his fall from grace. He deserved everything they did to him, and he deserved to lose everything they stole from him. Now perhaps he would be the slave made to dance to the whims of others.

But petty victories like that did not solve her problems. Her goals were two-pronged and simple: protect her sisters and protect her wyvern.

Koro was the very heart of her. And she was the very heart of him. They had bonded long ago in a way that
couldn’t be understood by the average layperson. She felt for him as she felt for her beloved sisters. She loved him from the bottom of her soul. And he was out there, somewhere, suffering and in pain.

Because of
him
.

She searched her room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. But moving around was awkward because she had been shackled to the column that was in the center of her bedchamber. The slack in the chain was designed to give her just enough length to lie down on the bed or sit in the window bench. But there was nothing worth looking at now, darkness having fallen long ago. Juquil’s hour came and passed and she waited with bated breath for him to appear. She tried to heft a book in her hands. No. Not heavy enough. She grabbed her hairbrush and smacked it hard against her palm. Yes. That would hurt. But perhaps only enough to enrage him, and if she was going to try to kill him, she needed a better plan than that.

The barbarian talked as though he was an intelligent and reasoning man, but she knew it was all a lie. She had been conned by such mannerisms in the past and she would not be conned again. He would not lull her into thinking he was harmless. Not after what he had done to Koro.

She thought about that for a moment. He had been burned by Koro. She had noticed it along his face and body when she had first seen him at the litter. But by the time he had come into the tent some hours later, he had been much healed. She had never heard of a mem of such great ability as that. His mems must be truly powerful. Truly devout. For it was the devoutness of a mem that allowed her the ability to heal.

It made no sense to Sarielle that the mems of such barbarians would be considered blessed by the gods. But she supposed that depended on which god the mems
followed. These mems were of Weysa, the goddess of conflict and war. It would figure that these conquerors would worship such a goddess. They thrived on conflict, on running roughshod over otherwise peaceable cities, claiming them as their own. And for what? Power? Riches? Glory? What was it that drove this man Garreth?