Cursed by Ice (6 page)

It did not matter, she decided. All that mattered was the safety of her sisters and helping Koro to heal. Koro’s wounds were so very deep—she could feel them all the way to her soul. If Garreth had spoken the truth, then Koro could not heal on his own and he would die. What if he got an infection because the wound would not heal? She was not afraid of dying, but she was fearful for her wyvern.

It was nearly an hour past juquil’s hour before he entered her rooms. By that time she had worn herself out with her pacing, her wounded body aching and sore, the wounds in her belly raw. She should not be up on her feet, but she could not help herself.

At least the wound on her shoulder was healing well, thanks to Garreth’s talented mem. She might be an old crone, but she clearly knew what she was doing. And even though she could not heal the wounds on Sarielle’s belly, she had provided an anesthetic cream to apply to the wound to take the edge off the pain. It worked only a little, but it was good enough. Hopefully it translated on Koro’s end as well.

He looked different when he entered the room. He was fully out of armor and lacked any accoutrements of war, save the sword and dagger at his belt. The same sword and dagger that had so terribly wounded Koro. She had noticed that the smallest wound on her belly, presumably made from the dagger, was knitting together nicely and starting to heal. She could only assume that the dagger was not god made and therefore
Koro was able to heal from the injury. But the other … a gleaming deadly black weapon … Yes, indeed it was god made. You could tell just by looking at the thing. It was as though it had a soul of its own.

“I see you are on your feet,” he said as he walked up to her. “I will presume that is a good—Whoa!”

He barely had time to catch her when she suddenly fell forward against him. She didn’t know what happened. She was fine one minute, and the next everything inside her simply went weak. She pushed at him in frustration, tried to gain her feet, but her body would not behave, would not act in accordance with her wishes.

He bent to put an arm behind her legs and suddenly swept her up into his arms, carrying her to the bed.

“Let me go! I can walk on my own!” she said angrily.

“Clearly you cannot. Will you stop fighting me for one second and take a moment to relax? To rest? Perchance to heal? This cannot be good for you or for Koro.”

“Do not talk about him as if you care for his well-being! I know you only want his power for yourself!”

“That is what you keep claiming is my goal,” he said as he put a knee on the bed and laid her down on it gently, despite her struggles. “But I have never said that was my intention. Nor have I done anything to support your beliefs.”

“Give it time,” she snapped, trying to push him away from her.

But suddenly he was encasing her head between his large hands and forcing her to look into his eyes, which were as green as the Faspin Sea.

“I am not your enemy,” he said to her intently. “If you would but give me a moment to prove it—”

“Ha! What a joke! Not my enemy! You just laid waste
to the city I call my home! How does that not make you my enemy?”

He seemed to think on that a moment. “A very good point,” he conceded. “But I did not lay siege to this place to rape it of its valuables and leave it torn asunder and helpless. I am merely the changing of the guard. I will run this city to my own liking and hopefully to the better benefit of
your
people. There are no slaves where I come from,” he said quietly as he held her gaze.

That gave her pause. She could not believe such a claim. No slaves? Who then did the dark and dirty work? How were the nobles supported? How did they gain their luxuries if not on the backs of others?

“So … since you are here … the scourge are no longer slaves? Is … is that what you are trying to tell me?”

“Yes,” he said softly.

He was too close to her, she realized in a sudden panic. He had seated himself on the bed facing her, his arm bridged over her, his body leaning toward her, and his face mere inches away from hers.

“I do not believe you,” she said.

“You will,” he assured her. “But before we worry about that, we need to look after your health. You must tell me where to find the wyvern. If we do not heal him, you could die, and I do not wish to see that happen.”

“Why? Why should you care?”

“How could I not care?” he asked her. “I have never seen anything like what you share with this creature. It is an amazing thing. A truly magical connection. One I wish to learn more about. It is blessed by the gods for certain.”

She snorted. “The gods had nothing to do with it,” she said.

“The gods have everything to do with everything,” he promised her.

“The gods aren’t even real. That’s probably not even a god-made sword. Weaponry like that is just a myth!”

“Oh, the gods are real. I have seen them for myself. And have a care for what you say because you never know which god is listening to you and when.”

“Seen them yourself?” She scoffed at him. “Now you make grandiose claims. Why would gods make themselves known to the likes of you?” she asked him.

“You don’t really want to know the answer to that question,” he said evasively. “Suffice it to say, the gods are real. Weysa is real. And this city has fallen to her glory and will now sing her praises and pray in her temples.”

“We have no temples for Weysa here,” she said in a hard tone.

“Then we will build them as we rebuild the city.” His gaze drifted away from hers and dropped to her mouth. “We will all pay tribute to her.”

“Will you lay me out upon the altar? A spoil of war? Offer me up to your killer goddess?”

“Enough!” he said sharply. “Watch your words, Sarielle. You do not wish to incite a god’s wrath, believe me.”

“Believe you? I do not believe you. Not a word you say.”

“How shall I convince you, then?” he asked her, his study of her mouth lasting a long time … until she began to get uncomfortable. His intense stare made her feel somehow warm inside. Her belly felt all swirly, and she suddenly felt very aware of her breasts. She swallowed hard, trying to banish the strange sensations through the force of her will. He must be using some kind of sorcery, she thought frantically. But no … that wasn’t possible …

“Let me go. Let me walk off into the darkness, never to be seen again.”

“Alone?” he asked with an arched brow. He reached toward her with a single finger, his thumb, letting it settle on her lower lip. It slowly brushed from one side of her mouth to the other.

She hesitated. She cleared her throat.

“You have loved ones here you would not leave behind, I think,” he said keenly. “Will you not tell me who they are? Or should I discover this from the bennesah?”

“He holds them even now,” she hissed. “You think you control me, but you do not. You have no power over me. He has it and he knows I know it. He has no doubt hidden them away by now, ready to use them against me when the moment is right.”

“Which ‘them’ are we referring to?” he asked.

She growled low in her throat. “My sisters! Twins! Young girls barely ten full turnings old. So, what will you do now? Find them for yourself and ensure your power over me?”

“I have told you before. I am not your enemy and I am not seeking power over you. To prove it I will procure your sisters from the bennesah and bring them to you.”

She burst out in wild laughter. “You expect me to believe that?” she said.

“Damn me, woman, but you are stubborn!” he said, taking her shoulders between his hands and giving her a good hard shake. “If I bring them to you, will you believe me then?”

“And only then!” she hissed, her eyes flashing with defiance.

Again his attention fell to her mouth. He frowned deeply, let her go, and pushed himself away. He stood up and stared down hard at her.

“I will bring you your sisters and then you will bring me to the wyvern.”

Alarmed, she sat up. “I never said I would!”

“You have no choice,” he said, his tone low. “You’ll
die if you don’t and so will he. I’ll bring you the girls and you will trust me to help care for the wyvern.”

She lifted her chin. “Fine. I can make the promise because I know the bennesah will never let you have the girls.” She bit her lip. “You shouldn’t even try. He might … I don’t want them hurt because you are trying to manipulate me!”

“They will not be hurt. I promise you that.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I can say the same to you,” he said. “Rest. Eat something. Try to heal in whatever way you can. I will be back with your sisters before long.”

She looked away from him. But he could tell she was nervous. Concerned. She was worried about her siblings. Deeply worried. It was a feeling he could easily identify with.

Garreth turned around and walked out the door, closing and locking it behind him. He paused a moment, his head resting on the solid wood of the door, his eyes closing.

What was wrong with him? For a moment there—for several moments—he had stared at that lush, violet-lipped mouth and all he could think about was kissing the frustrating wench into silence. But that, he had known, would have been a very bad idea and would have destroyed any chance of gaining her trust. And the very last thing he should be thinking of was kissing a woman who amounted to a prisoner of war. A woman who, in her wrath, could call upon the power of a great beast to protect her.

He was fascinated by that connection. How had it come to be? Why had it come to be? And could the bond be broken without killing one or both of them? Would she even want such a thing?

He turned away from the door and strode through
the keep, the page who had been waiting outside the door for him at his side.

“Where is my brother?” he asked, his tone brusque.

“I do not know, Sor Garreth. Although the last I heard of it, he was looking for the treasury.”

“Leave it to my brother to be practical.” Garreth began to search for Dethan. The keep was convoluted, made of stone and brick, full of twists and turns and far too many dark corners. He finally did catch up to him in the treasury room, which was stone-cold empty.

“Hmm. Either this is the poorest city in the world,” he said, picking up a stray gold coin from the floor, “or we’ve been robbed.”

“The bennesah, no doubt. Methinks we’ll have to explain a little more clearly to the bennesah how things work. The city was fighting us and he was making off with the gold.”

“And other forms of leverage. His offer of the girl and the wyvern came with a small flaw. He controls her by controlling the fate of her sisters.”

“Hmm. It seems we need to find our host.”

“Where did you put him?”

“I didn’t put him anywhere. I thought you …”

“Mind tricks,” Garreth realized as he swore thoroughly. Somehow they had been tricked into thinking the other was watching over the bennesah.

“The mage. Let’s find the bennesah and rout out this mage before we end up putting a knife in each other’s backs,” Dethan said, scowling.

The first thing they did was scour the castle from top to bottom in search of the bennesah and the girls. Once they were certain the trio were not in the keep, they began to make inquiries. It didn’t take long for Dethan’s trusted page, Tonkin, to roust up a servant who actually had a clue as to what was going on. The man shivered in
his slippers as he was dragged before the unhappy brothers.

“Where is your master?” they asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. They had been interrogating almost everyone in the keep.

“I do not know, milord,” he said, his eyes shifting to and fro.

“Brother, methinks we have a bad liar here,” Dethan posited.

“Methinks you’re correct,” Garreth said.

Dethan smiled humorlessly. “My patience is at an end,” he growled at the servant. “Where is your master? And while you are at it, where is the mage he uses to confuse us?”

“Y-you can’t get to the bennesah. The mage will protect him. He is very powerful.”

“Not powerful enough to save this city, you’ll notice. Why don’t you tell us where they are and let us worry about whether or not we can actually capture the bastard?”

“If h-he hasn’t left the city already, he is at his manor house in the lower swells.”

“Take us there at once.”

The man quailed. “No one crosses the bennesah and his mage. He will put a curse on you!”

“Then point out the way,” Garreth said in aggravation. “He need never know you helped us.”

Garreth brought out a map of the city, which he had procured upon first arriving, and the servant pointed to a house near where the river ran through the rear of the city.

“Double the guard at the gates,” Dethan said to Tonkin. “Mind magery can be fought if you but remain aware. Tell this to the men. Brother, come. Let’s see a man about some gold.”

“I am more concerned with the young girls,” Garreth
said with a frown. “The bennesah is sure to have them with him. If we find him, then we find the girls.”

“Strange priorities, brother,” Dethan said, lifting a brow. “We have come to conquer a city … not one woman.”

“This city cannot be safely ours as long as the wyvern is out there,” Garreth argued.

“True. Let’s go.”

Together, and with a contingent of armed men, they descended on the manor house of the bennesah. Dethan walked up and thundered his fist against the door.

There was no answer.

“Enough of this,” Garreth said after several minutes of the same. He drew his brother’s sword, and with a mighty swing, he cleaved the door down the middle. He and Dethan pushed inside. In the front hallway, a couple of servants were crouched down low in a corner, shivering and quaking with fear.

“Where’s your master? And I’m tired of asking the question, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll show the way,” Garreth said stormily.

“H-he said he was leaving the city,” the male said.

“That’s a lie!” The female popped upright, shoving her male counterpart over.

“Moyra, don’t!” the man cried tremulously.

“He’s in the undercity! With the mage! But you’ll never capture him now. The mage will trick you! He makes you see things. Terrible, terrible things!”