Dark Magic (3 page)

“What is it?” Devon asked.

Brinna shuffled her feet. “Nobody pays attention to an old servant.”

“Yes. We know that. What did you hear?”

She dragged in a breath and let it out. “I knew there was talk of a plan. I kept listening, and I heard your brother discussing it with some of the fighting men.”

Her brother, Grantland. Long ago they had been close, but circumstances had torn them apart.

Their mother had died giving birth to a third child when Grantland was only four years old. The baby had died, too.

Devon had been eight, and she had ached for her loss and her brother’s. Their father was punishing and gruff, a hard taskmaster. Their mother had been the direct opposite, the loving touchstone that sustained them.

When she had died, Devon had reached out to Grantland, trying to fill the aching gap in their lives. He’d accepted her love, for a few years—until their father had come down hard on him.

He was being groomed for kingship, yet nothing he did was right. And sometimes he took out his anger and frustration on Devon.

“I came to warn you,” Brinna continued.

“Are the barbarians about to break in?”

“I don’t think so. But Grantland was telling Cameron that your father wants to trade you to the Lubantan leader.”

Devon stared at her, wondering if she’d heard right. “No! Why would he do that?”

“To get concessions from the Lubantans.”

She couldn’t hold back a little moan as she thought of the unkempt mob outside the castle. And their leader. She had seen him in the camp, looking as disgusting as the rest of them.

For years her father had turned away kings and princes who had asked for her hand. Now he was going to turn her over to a barbarian in hopes of saving his kingdom?

“No,” she wheezed, then raised her head. “Why are you telling me?”

“I thought you should be prepared.”

She could barely breathe, but she dragged in enough air to say, “I have to escape.”

“Where would you go?”

She kept her voice even as she uttered the lie that leaped into her mind. “To Tundor. My father was negotiating with King Parmell’s man for my hand in marriage to Prince Layton—before he broke off the talks. I know Layton wanted me. If I can get to Tundor, I can ask King Parmell for his help. That would be better than surrendering to the barbarians.”

Brinna stared at her. “Your father will kill me if he finds out I helped you.”

Devon felt her heart squeeze. “You don’t have to help me. You only have to look the other way when I leave this room.”

Brinna closed her eyes for a moment. “I have to think about it.”

When the nurse had left, Devon sat on the bed, her mind whirling.

She had always hated the idea of being sold to the ruler of a neighboring kingdom. To a man who wanted her to form an alliance with King Wilfred and to give his own kingdom children from a royal bloodline. A man who would never love her. Who would probably have more regard in bed for his mistress than for his wife. Because he would think of pleasure with the one and his duty with the other.

Like her parents’ marriage.

Now her father had come up with a plan that was even worse than a loveless marriage to a prince. And what guarantee did he have that the barbarians would leave Arandal intact if they had her?

Was their leader honorable? There was no way of knowing.

But her father’s desperation had driven him to consider an evil bargain.

She shuddered, imagining the man’s dirty hands on her body. Especially after…

Although she squeezed her eyes closed, she couldn’t hold back images of Galladar. He had made love to her without taking her virginity, and it had been sweeter than anything she had imagined. He had wanted to please her, and he had brought her to the peak of a woman’s pleasure. Probably few women even knew of it, because it took a man who wanted to give her that joy. And a man who could make himself vulnerable, she added, as she thought of him lying on his back with her hand around his cock.

Yet in doing it, he had made her realize what she would miss if she were sold to the barbarian leader by her father.

“Damn you,” she muttered. “Damn you for making me want more.”

He had ruined her as surely as if he had taken her virginity. And now what was left to her?

Why not take her chance with the dragon? If the dragon killed her to save the kingdom, so be it. An honorable death would be better than being thrown to the wolves.

Plans whirled in her mind. She would go north, to the magic mountains where the dragon lived.

But first she must escape, and she knew how she would do it.

A river ran under the castle to provide them with fresh water.

She was a good swimmer. She and Grantland had played in the millpond when they were young.

Before she could change her mind, she jumped up and ran to the marriage chest, where she pulled out the boy’s clothing hidden there under her wedding accoutrements. After dressing in the gray wool britches and brown shirt, she tucked her long blond hair under a knit cap, buckled on a leather belt and slipped her dagger against her hip. Instead of putting on the leather sandals that went with the outfit, she put them in an oilskin carry bag along with some extra clothing.

There was an inner compartment in the bag that was made to look and feel like the side wall. In that recess she secreted
The Dragon and the Maidens
, a gold chain with the royal seal of Arandal on a flat pendant and a white gown.

With the bag’s long strap secured across her chest, she pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway. Although Brinna was lying on her pallet with her eyes closed, Devon knew from her rigid body that her nurse wasn’t sleeping.

She wanted to stop and hug her good-bye, but that would give Brinna something else to lie about. Instead, Devon hurried past and crept down a back passage to a set of narrow steps that were hidden at both ends by heavy tapestries. In the darkness, she braced her hand against the wall, feeling the edges of the steps with her feet.

On the main floor, she cautiously stared out into the hallway. When a guard walked by, she eased the hanging back into place and waited with her heart pounding. The man passed by, and she stepped cautiously out.

She knew the castle well. The doorway to the lower levels was only a few yards away, in a side passage.

The lower stairs were also dark, but she saw a glimmer of torchlight at the bottom. The smell of dampness drifted toward her from below, and when she stepped into a patch of something slimy, she drew her foot back so quickly that she almost lost her balance.

After righting herself, she inched downward again. It felt as if she were on an endless journey descending into the bowels of the earth.

Above her, booted feet hit the steps, and a voice called out, “I saw a lad slip down here. Get him.”

Devon’s heart leaped into her throat. Quickening her pace, she hurried downward and finally emerged onto a flat surface. When she came to the edge of the stone floor, she stared down in horror at the fast-moving current.

Great Rivana. This was no millpond. She would drown if she jumped into that rushing river.

“Over there! Grab him.”

Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she saw armed men closing in on her. They didn’t know who she was. Probably they thought she was a spy.

With no other option, she dragged in a breath and jumped into the water. The shock of cold was like stepping naked into a snowstorm. And the current grabbed her with the claws of a great beast and pulled her under.

All she could do was hold her breath and struggle upward as the river swept her along. When her head broke the surface, she dragged in air before going down again.

She couldn’t really swim in the swift current, and the carry bag hanging across her chest felt like a sea anchor. She wanted to cast it away, but she needed the things inside, so she tried to adjust to the extra weight.

When she bobbed up again, she managed to stay above the surface.

She was thinking the worst was over, when a hand scrabbled against her side, then closed around her ankle.

It had to be one of the soldiers. A brave one who had followed her into the water.

“No! Please,” she cried, her voice gurgling as water bubbled into her mouth.

Ignoring her protests, he pulled her downward and held her under.

With her lungs burning, she fumbled at her belt and pulled out the dagger, then twisted her body and slashed at the hand gripping her ankle. Her blade sliced through flesh and came to rest against bone.

She heard a muffled gasp, then the man’s fingers loosened, but he flailed out and grabbed her arm with his other hand.

Using the last of her strength, she slashed out again, and this time he let her go.

She kicked upward, broke the surface and dragged in air. When she had some of her strength back, she tried to put distance between herself and the attacker. She was looking behind her when the river made a turn, and her shoulder slammed against a rock. Somehow she held onto the knife as the current swept her onward—toward blessed daylight far ahead.

Finally she emerged from the darkness, blinking in the sunlight.

When she turned around, she saw rocks rising up behind her, and far away the turrets of the castle.

Something rushed by her, and she realized it was the soldier who had tried to drag her under. His body was limp, and she watched it hit the rocks ahead and bounce back and forth in the current.

Horror rose inside her when she realized she had killed him. When she’d planned her escape, she hadn’t thought of anyone getting hurt.

Had she left the castle to help her father’s people? Or for her own selfish reasons? She knew deep in her heart that both were true.

After pulling herself onto the sandy shore, she lay panting in the afternoon sunlight before pushing herself up and struggling away from the water.

Once she’d reached the forest, she breathed out a little sigh, but she was shivering, and she had to get out of her wet clothing. Because the thought of undressing in the open made her stomach clench, she did it in stages, first taking off her shirt and replacing it with one from her carry bag then doing the same with her britches. Finally she put on her sandals and tucked her knife out of sight under her shirt and her hair under a dry cap.

She’d only taken a dozen steps when the sound of horses’ hooves made her freeze in place.

Throwing herself into a tangle of brambles, she waited with shallow breath as two horsemen came into view. Dressed in rough leather clothing, they had long greasy hair and rode bareback on short, shaggy horses.

Lubantans. On patrol.

When they stopped nearby, Devon felt sickness rising in her throat. She had freed herself from the man in the water, but she would be no match for these two fighters.

“This is a waste of time. Wilfred’s people are all scattered—or in the castle.”

“They won’t last long.”

“Falian will have their land and the king’s riches.”

“And the golden-haired princess, too.” The man laughed. “He’ll break her to his will.”

The breath froze in Devon’s lungs as she took in their words, confirmation that the leader of the barbarians had been lying to her father.

“We’d better go. We have to get back for head count.”

“Yeah, but as long as we’re stopped, I’m gonna take a piss.”

“Good idea.”

As the men dismounted, Devon went very still. When they strode away in the other direction, she let the air trickle out of her lungs.

When they came back, she heard one of them drag in a breath.

“I smell something.”

How could they smell anything when they stank so badly?

“It’s your imagination. Or an animal.”

“Then we should hunt it. The camp needs food.”

The two men started moving through the bushes, one of them headed straight for her.

The moment he saw her, Devon knew that she was done for.

But she’d dared too much and come too far to give up without a fight. Leaping up, she tore through the bushes, trying to duck through brambles where he might not follow.

But he plunged after her, and he was faster. Behind her, she could hear him puffing behind her and the sound of his friend keeping pace.

The one in the lead caught up with her, grabbing her by the shoulder. When her head whipped around, the cap came off.

As her hair fell loose, he made a startled sound.

“What’s this? A girl!”

She tried to take advantage of his surprise to wiggle free, but his fingers clamped on her arm, holding fast. When she pounded her fists against him, he smacked her across the face so hard that she saw stars.

His mate came running up, grabbing her other arm. One of them had a length of rope around his waist. He untied it and pulled her hands behind her back, securing her wrists. Next he pulled the free end down to her ankles and tied them as well. When she struggled, the rope cut into her flesh.

They stared down at her with satisfaction as she lowered her lids. Not a good idea to look bold or defiant. She was their captive, and she had to figure out how to get away.

One of them had greasy dark hair. The other greasy blond. Up close, they smelled worse than when she’d first spotted them.

Her shoulder bag had dropped to the ground, and the dark-haired one picked it up, poking inside, throwing her clothing on the ground.

She thanked Rivana when he didn’t find the inner compartment where the book and her father’s seal were hidden.

“Where did you come from? Not the castle. Nobody can get out of there.”

“I was hiding in the woods.”

“And going where?”

“Away. There’s nothing good around here.”

He laughed. “Right.”

“Let me go.”

“Uh-uh.” The blond one squatted beside her, feeling her breasts through the rough shirt.

She tried to slide away, but he held her fast with his other hand. “Haven’t had a woman in months,” he said as he continued to play with her.

The other laughed. “Yeah. But we gotta report in.”

“We’re not on duty tonight. We can have supper, then come back and have some fun with her.”

Fear rose in her throat, almost choking off her breath.

They kept her hands and feet tied as they carried her to a tree and secured the rope to the trunk so that she was sitting with her hands pulled painfully in back of her.

“I want to fuck her now,” the blond one said as he came down beside her.

“We don’t have time.”

“Maybe.” He grabbed her breasts again, and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. Then he worked his hand between her legs, pawing at the most vulnerable part of her.

When she gasped, he grinned and reached for the front of his pants, pulling out his swollen cock, stroking his hand up and down the length.

As she turned her head away from the revolting sight, he laughed.

She couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Please, I’m a virgin.”

“Or a liar. We’ll find out which.”

He stuffed his rod back inside his pants. “No need to rush. I’ll come back later and show you how a real man fucks a woman, not like your Arandal pussies.”

When he pushed himself up and stepped away, she struggled not to let him see her relief.

“Back soon for some sport,” he said in a conversational voice before the two of them turned and tramped back through the woods.

Panic rose inside Galladar as he rushed through the castle. He had stepped into Devon’s room and found it empty, and the old woman who slept in the hall wasn’t at her post. Where were they?

He slipped silently through the building, trying to find out what had happened.

Had Devon taken sick? Had her father sent for her?

He hurried down a stone stairway to the king’s council chamber. Wilfred and some of his men were there, all looking panicked.

“You didn’t find her?” the king asked in a harsh voice.

“She’s not in the castle,” Grantland, the prince, answered. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Perhaps she heard about your plan.”

The king fixed him with a piercing gaze. “How could she? You didn’t tell her, did you?”

“Of course not.”

“What about the boy who jumped into the river? Could that have been her?”

“She’s reckless enough to try it.”

“Then she’s lost to us. The stupid bitch.” The king looked at one of his men. “Bring the nurse back. I want to question her again.”

The man stepped into a side chamber and brought out the old woman, holding her firmly by the arm.

“Tell me again what happened.”

Galladar waited, his heart pounding.

The woman raised her head. “When I went to look in on Princess Devon, she wasn’t in her room.”

“She must have passed by you. That was the only way out of the hallway.”

“I was sleeping, your highness.”

He glared at her. “You sleep soundly.”

“I’m old, sir. Why was there no guard outside her door?”

He raised his hand and struck her across the face, almost knocking her to the floor. “I could have you killed.”

“Ay.”

The king kept his angry gaze on her. “Did she speak to you of her plans?”

The woman licked blood from her lips. “No, your highness.”

“You were always her confidant. Are you lying to me?”

“If she was going to leave the castle, she may have been afraid I would tell you.”

Galladar had heard enough.

Devon was gone, and he had the sick feeling that she was in trouble.

Devon wanted to scream, but there was no one to hear her. If she was going to get away, she must help herself. But how?

They’d been too sure of themselves to search her, so they hadn’t found the knife tucked in the waistband of her britches. But what good would it do her with her hands and feet tied?

Desperately, she yanked on the rope, trying to free her hands, but as before, the rough fibers only sawed into her wrists.

Her feet weren’t staked to the ground. Working them under her, she pushed herself up, inch by inch, until she was standing with her back to the tree. Her arms were still tied, but at least they weren’t in such an aching position. Still, she was in terrible trouble, and it was her own fault. She had thought she could go to the dragon. She hadn’t gotten far from the castle.

They were going to rape her and probably kill her. Or tell their friends where they were hiding her in the woods so more of them could enjoy her. She had to get away—before they came back.

As she moved around the tree, her heart leaped when she found a broken arrow shaft sticking out of the trunk. Maybe it had gone astray in a battle. And maybe she could use it.

The broken end was sharp, and she began to saw the rope against it, desperate to cut through the strands. But the rope was thick, and freeing herself was going to take a while.

The question was, did she have enough time?

She kept working the rope against the wood. One by one, the strands broke. Every so often, she stopped to see if she could pull the rest of them apart, but they were still too strong and she went back to sawing, ignoring the pain.

Finally, she felt the rope start to give and redoubled her efforts. She had just pulled her hands free and was moving them to work out some of the cramps when she heard voices and saw torchlight flickering through the woods.

Great Rivana, the Lubantans were coming back.

All she could do was grab for her knife and clench it in her hand before sliding back down the tree and moving her arms to their original position, making it look as though she was still tied.

They might kill her, but she was going to take at least one of them with her.

The men had brought their horses closer. The dark-haired one tied them up while the blond came toward her, jabbing the torch he carried into the ground near her.

“She claims she’s a virgin,” he called to his friend. “Which one gets her first?”

“The one who can make her scream the loudest.”

“I’ll have a go at it,” the blond one said, as he came down beside her and ripped open the front of her shirt. As he leaned down to paw at her breasts, she whipped her arm from behind the tree, bringing the knife blade down and into his back with as much force as she could manage.

He grunted in surprise and pain, gagging as she pulled the knife free and plunged it in again.

She pulled out the knife and pushed the man off of her as his friend whirled to find out what was happening.

When he saw his friend lying on the ground, he sprang toward her.

He was still above her when she brought the knife up, aiming for his throat. But he dodged aside, grabbing her arm and slamming it against the ground.

“You whore,” he snarled as he reached for her. “You’ll pay for this.”