Dockalfar (30 page)

They confessed to having no notion, but one with a slight smirk, declared that he would let the Dark Lord know she was looking for him.

He must have passed the word along mentally for in very short order Azeral found her in a small stone garden where she had taken retreat. He made the appearance seem casual, strolling in, a smile lighting his face when he saw her.

Her fingers were beginning to cramp from the fists she could not quite make herself relax.

“My dear…,” he began, before she cut him off with a sharp hiss of breath.

“I know what you can do for me. You asked, you know, how to gain my good will. I’ve a way.”

His perfect brows drew slightly at her pallor and the tightness of her voice. Almost, one would think, in concern did he look at her.

“Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” she drew deep breath.

“Are you willing to grant me a favor?”

“Anything,” he agreed.

“Give me back my magic. Just for a little while…and put me in a room with that witch Leanan and Alex and I shall trust you implicitly.”

To his credit, he only stared at her thoughtfully. “Leanan is of my flesh and blood,” he finally said. “I cannot in all faith to that bond stand by and see her harmed.”

Victoria lifted one brow. “Your sister? Daughter?”

“Daughter.” He shrugged.

“But she’s so much older and wiser than I,” she reminded him calmly. “What harm could I really do? It would be a mere release of frustrations.”

“Oh, my dear girl, do not underestimate yourself. I certainly do not. My daughter would be little more than a husk had I not interceded the first time you decided to test your powers upon her. Your earth magic may be raw, but never mistake its strength.”

“All right. How about Alex. You don’t have any deep bond with him do you?”

“Alex Morgan is my guest. I would be remiss if I allowed another guest to do him harm. Please do not ask me to slip below the dictums of honor. I would certainly not expect the same of you.”

She glared at him. He smiled lazily.

“I can see the frustration and anger rages inside you, Victoria. There are those in this keep that I have no hesitation in allowing you to deflect your anger upon. Those whose only purpose is to fulfill your emotional needs. Be those needs be pain or pleasure.”

“You would give me one of your servants – a slave to vent my frustrations on.” She came close to laughing at the notion, but ceased when she saw just how serious he was. He was offering one of his servants for her to wreak havoc on.

She did giggle. But it was a dark mirth. Victoria’s mind was spinning from anger and grief and too little control of emotions run wild. A week before, or a week after and she might have walked away from Azeral in disgust, but the turmoil of her own woman’s chemical imbalances and the depth of her frustration and anger made her think of another target for her displeasure. Of one other betrayer of her trust.

“How about Dusk?” she purred. “Is he blood kin or guest?”

Azeral hesitated and a slight frown did mar his lips. “Dusk is – unusual.”

“He’s not a creature of yours? A servant?”

“He is.”

“Then let me see him punished. I’m not asking for his death.”

Azeral stared at her. “And this will appease you? With this I will gain your good will?”

“You will gain some of it,” she promised.

“Then it will be done.”

~~~

The word spread like disease through the court. Rumor of what Azeral planned for his Ciagenii. Rumor that what had always been supremely untouchable, what each member of the court secretly feared, and perhaps desired because it was unattainable, was to be brought down.

Punished at the whim of a human girl.

Tortured because she demanded retaliation for a betrayal. Because she was sick with hatred and frustration and she had been betrayed by so many things that she had trusted. She could not get at Alex.

Azeral would not allow her that, as if Alex were his dearest friend. As if she could bring herself to actually contemplate physically hurting him, when it came right down to it. As if she could do more than sob and cringe, desperately trying the protect the bruised core of her emotions.

She vacillated between rage and despair and utter bewilderment. All her trusts had been deceived. She wanted to scream at Alex, she wanted to beat her fists against his chest and slap his face, but they would not let her. Azeral consented to let her at the other.

And while her emotions churned in dismay over Alex’s deceit, she seethed in violent physical fury over Dusk. He was an enemy, a minion of Azeral, but she had trusted him in a way. She had used him to bring her here, to this dark enchantment of conflict. She used his presence to lift her own fears through a foreign landscape.

Used her belief in his strength, his abilities. He owed her. She kept repeating this. She had saved his life, she had held it in her hands and generously given it to him when she could have rid herself of him once and for all. And he repaid her with betrayal. He repaid her by breaking what advantage she might have had here with one blow to which she had been unprepared. To which she had had no chance to set up shields and barriers, and now Azeral held her in his hand. No power to fight him. No power of calling to those who might help her. And all because of Dusk. He had chosen to follow his master’s path and bring her down. She hated him for it. She wanted to see those exquisite eyes widen in pain and hear his silken voice scream in lost composure.

She wanted him to look at her and regret the loss of her benediction. He needed to know her animosity.

She convinced herself of all of this, stroking the venomous emotions to a hot fire until he appeared in the midst of Azeral’s select cronies. Too passive and too complacent under Azeral’s will. Not looking at her at all, even when Azeral explained, with no small bit of dry amusement, what Victoria wished. Hair gone dark in the low light and traced with fire streaks fell over his face. Damn, she wanted him to look at her. She wanted him to register that she was the author of his downfall. But he would not. He let Deigah and Neferia strip of him of his cloak and bare his flesh to the waist. Let Deigah and Ephron tie his wrists to a ring over his head. He merely stood with his forehead against the wall, his hair a silky fall of tangled waves down his back. It reached his waist. Neferia lifted the mass of it, slowly twisting it in her hands before she sat it over his shoulder, baring the smooth skin of his back.

Azeral’s breath caressed Victoria’s cheek. He leaned over her, placing the stout handle of the whip in her cold hands. His fingertips brushed the backs of her knuckles over so lightly. He whispered in her ear. “The object of your desire… for revenge. What you want, my lovely Victoria, it is my pleasure to give to you. Avenge your honor, your trust. Heal yourself.”

Her fingers clenched on the whip.

Why wouldn’t Dusk look at her or say anything? Why did he not plead for her understanding? Alex had. She had seen it in his eyes. The sidhe looked on in anticipation. Muted excitement sizzled in the air. They wanted this more than she did. They wanted Dusk’s pain. They wanted one of their fears dismantled. She knew in a moment of clarity that they hated him more than any other fear. Hated him because of what he was and the power he had to kill any one of them, regardless of any safeguards they could put up. Hated him because he was yet one more advantage Azeral held over them. Hated him to the point where the thought of seeing him beaten had them salivating and writhing. Yes, they wanted his pain more than she did. It occurred to her that there was no being here in this entire keep that cared. Not one that loved him, not even his master. No wonder there was no surprise at this summons, no pleading.

Who would listen?

Nausea erupted. She was suddenly dizzy and sick. She could not hold the bile back. It burned her throat.

“Let him go,” she whispered. They stared at her as if she had asked to have her own head lopped off. She dropped the whip from limp fingers and backed away.

“Oh God, oh God,” she repeated over and over. She needed salvation. She needed hope that she would not become like them.

Her twisted mind kept pulling her down to their depths. Madness and schizophrenia warped her personality and she felt the changes and could not alter them. And nothing brought out the demons in her as well as Dusk.

She sobbed and fled. Their eyes were upon her. Their disappointment palpable.

The hate shifted. She stopped hating Dusk and started hating them. And just a little bit of the loathing she left for herself.

~~~

Azeral watched her go. Perfect teeth ground together and ice blue eyes narrowed. The five of his court who he had allowed to attend this spectacle were staring at anything but his dark face. The stupid human bitch. She was impossible.

So close to the edge of darkness and she refused to topple over. So very much more fierce than her male. So much vaster a power. More than Alex could ever hold.

To kill her would be such a waste.

With a silent sweep of the arm he banished the sidhe. They fled his wrath, disenchanted at the lack of entertainment.

Neferia stayed and pressed herself against the wall, watching him. He picked up the discarded whip, smoothed the hardened leather tongues.

“Let him go,” he repeated the girl’s plea/command. “Unpredictable wench.”

He drifted to Dusk. He had been prepared to sacrifice his Ciagenii for this stupid girl. One of his prize possessions. And she still defied his seduction. He ran a hand down Dusk’s ribs, felt a very slight shudder under silky skin. If she knew the price he had paid for this slender, deadly creature she would not take his gesture so lightly.

“Have you bewitched her, my lovely?” he whispered in Dusk’s ear, pulling tendrils of hair away from the neck. Baring one delicately pointed ear and elegant cheek. “Or is it the other way around?”

Lashes trembled on cheeks. Dusk shook his head ever so slightly.

“No.” A mere murmur of denial.

“No?” Azeral brushed fingertips across the soft skin at the nape of the neck.

“Then tell me why she is alive. Tell me why you did not strike to kill when she attacked me. Do you value your soul so lightly that you would risk it for a human girl?”

“No.”

Again, the soft denial. He realized he had never in all the time he had possessed his Ciagenii and that had been all of Dusk’s life, heard him speak above a whisper. What an absurd realization to strike him. He laughed. “You’ve never struck but to kill and yet this female lives. I find that disturbing.”

“She has value. Was I wrong?”

“Did I tell you to preserve her life?”

“You said bring her back.”

“A body might have been sufficient.

You risked my life with a blunted blow.”

Dusk did not answer. Azeral could not read him. No magic could reach through his veneer. The magic, that was not magic, of the Ciagenii. Immune to magic. Destroyers of souls.

“Beautiful, beautiful child,” Azeral breathed in his ear, tilted his head back and rested fingertips against the beating pulse in the throat. “What should I do for such laxness? What reprimand do you suggest I deliver?”

Silence. That in itself was a rebellion. Azeral frowned. He struck out with the whip. Dusk almost controlled the spasm. Red welts sprang up across his lower back.

“You’ve never tasted the bite of the lash. Perhaps my leniency with you is what led to this. Perhaps my hand has been too gentle.” He hit again and blood bubbled to the surface. No sound from Dusk. Nothing more than a quickening of breath. Azeral cursed the dark gods of Annwn. Neferia stood in the shadow, huge shining eyes fixed on him. Her face was a pale play of soft contours. Lovely creature with dark appetites. But weren’t all his folk of that nature?

He whirled and thrust the whip at her.

She took it with a slight turning of the lips.

There was a quirk of pleasure at the corner of her mouth. She appreciated small gifts. He paused at the steps without looking back at her or the Ciagenii. A warning, lest she damage the irreplaceable.

“Remember his value.”

Her soft voice, tinged with pleasure and anticipation. She would be properly grateful come nightfall.

“Of course my Lord.”

~~~

Victoria found herself in unfamiliar territory. In dark halls where moisture clung like ice to the walls. Where the smell of fungi and algae were strong in her nostrils. She thought she was deep beneath the upper levels of the keep. Below the line of earth and delving into the bowels of the mountain. She ran for some time, pausing early on to empty her stomach of rebelling matter. She felt better after that.

Physically. Mentally she was still on shaky ground. Her thoughts were a shifting turmoil. She could not begin to understand what had prompted her to trigger the travesty she had fled. Her emotions were not her own of late. They seemed to belong to some flighty, easily offended woman with a definite malicious streak that she did not know. She was not so gullible or egotistical to believe herself pristine or saintly, but she was not the raging bitch that had been surfacing recently.

It was not all her fault. She laid a good deal of blame at Alex’s feet. To betray her in the manner he had was unforgivable. To pretend she was nothing more than a minor concern was infuriating. She had every right to rage at him. She was shamed that she had taken her frustration out on Dusk when he had done nothing more than his duty demanded. She was shocked that Azeral held such complete control, that the assassin would go so calmly to his own torture. She discovered she hated that compliance. Why ever did Azeral deserve it, grand manipulator that he was?

Foot pads echoed behind her. Her heartbeat sped in fear that it was Azeral or some member of his court coming to drag her back to the torture of her diversion.

She turned and stood trembling the dim hall way, ready to put of a fight if necessary. The shadow that turned the corner was not sidhe tall and willowy, it was short and gnarled and it furtively crept past the corner, then jerked back in alarm when it saw her waiting for it.

She gaped in surprise as her furtive pursuer fled, then ran forward and called his name.