The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (226 page)

Read The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection Online

Authors: Tom Lloyd

Tags: #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Vampires, #War, #Fiction, #General, #Epic

BOOK: The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection
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‘That’s right dear, soon you’ll be able to go to the Library of Seasons again and see the funny men with wings,’ Natai said.
‘Aye,’ Kayel agreed pensively, brushing the back of one thumb with the edge of his dagger. ‘A prince needs a suitable education now, don’t he?’
A small drop of blood fell onto the letter, but only Ruhen paid it any attention. He watched the bright spot run down the paper, his eyes dancing with delight.
*****
‘This Menin occupation has become tiresome,’ Zhia announced, slipping her arms from the sleeves of her dress and letting it fall about her ankles. ‘There are altogether too many curious faces on the streets, even at night.’
The naked vampire ignored the bedroom’s chilly air and carefully unwound her plait to leave her hair falling freely about her shoulders. Doranei turned slightly so he could see her slim body silhouetted in the faint daylight creeping around the door. He felt a familiar stirring of lust banish the fog of sleep and for a while he just enjoyed the sight of her, every movement graceful and neat.
‘Where did you go?’ he asked eventually, propping himself up on one elbow. ‘I didn’t hear you leave.’
Zhia’s sharp teeth flashed white in the twilight. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’ With a twitch of her fingers the blanket lifted off Doranei’s body and the cold air rushed in. As Doranei instinctively curled up Zhia slid sinuously into his arms. By the time the blanket dropped down again his body was tightly wrapped around hers, his lips on the nape of her neck as Zhia pushed against his chest.
‘You went to feed?’ Doranei said softly in her ear, breathing in the delicate perfume she wore.
‘I did. A girl has needs even you cannot satisfy,’ Zhia purred, reaching back around his waist to pull him tighter against her. As he kissed her again she took his hand and pressed it against her chest, hard enough to make him wince.
Doranei didn’t say anything more. He might not like it, but he was a professional killer; what right had he to pass judgment on her Gods-imposed curse?
‘How are you going to spend the day?’ she asked eventually.
He sighed. ‘I have the usual errands to run. I can’t afford to let our agent here out of the safe house, he’s too easily recognised and Ilumene
will
have people looking for him.’
‘Then an evening of drinking in Coin? That disguise would suit you better if you had a beautiful lady to accompany you.’
Doranei gave a noncommittal grunt. Even washed, shaved and dressed in fine clothes he hadn’t managed to attract the right friends in the cardhouse; bringing Zhia in would complicate matters in other ways. His usual method of intelligence-gathering - befriending soldiers, cooks and servants - had been precluded now a traitor comrade was overseeing security at the Ruby Tower.
He was hoping the merchants of Coin and the minor nobility of Eight Towers would tell him enough instead, but it was hard to lay the groundwork in fraught times like these, when he didn’t look like he belonged. Zhia did, but she wore a dark allure like a mantle, and Doranei was noticeable enough already.
‘Ashamed to be seen in public with me?’
‘Don’t be foolish.’ He kissed her, and added, ‘If you could make yourself look a little less beautiful, confident and terrifying all in one go, then I’d have no argument. But I already attract too much attention, and you, my love, you dominate any room you enter.’
She pulled his hand up to her lips and kissed his fingertips as gently as a butterfly. ‘You grieve for Sebe. When you drink, you glower, and frighten those around you. However delicate your touch, you still resemble a white-eye looking for something to kill; that’s what they notice in Coin.’
‘It isn’t so easy to throw off,’ he growled.
‘I know that, pretty one,’ Zhia continued in a conciliatory tone, ‘but it is a detail you must address. There’s enough grief around that folk will understand it. Wear something to explain your mood and their suspicion will be allayed.’
‘You think that’ll be enough?’
‘I don’t know; you won’t tell me what information you are seeking.’ There was an edge of hurt in her voice that made Doranei want to immediately apologise, but he suppressed the feeling.
‘Do we need to have this conversation again? I’m not your pet to be indulged, and we’re not on the same side in this war.’
‘Those are not sufficient reasons to mistrust me. I can provide you with a plan of the Ruby Tower, of the duchess’ security arrangements - whatever you want. Lady Kinna is still under my control, and her access is unrestricted.’
‘They are all the reasons I have,’ Doranei said, knowing he sounded petulant, ‘and besides, my orders are clear enough.’
‘Your king does not trust my motives; I understand that, but do you honestly believe I would give you false information or betray your plans to the shadow? Do you believe I would ever put you in danger?’
‘Zhia — Of course I don’t, but this is how things must be. Can we — ’ he broke off to stroke her back, and whispered, ‘Zhia, can we please talk of inconsequential things instead?’
She heard the tired edge in his voice and, knowing how exhausting an emotion grief was, she didn’t push matters further. Zhia gently kissed each of his callused knuckles before using his hand to cup her face. ‘As you wish, pretty one. We will talk of the children we will never have instead; of the life we will never lead. I require a minimum of two girls - I remember having a sister most fondly.’
‘At least two?’ Doranei winced at the thought. ‘Just one with her mother’s smile would be trouble enough for me.’
‘You would rule them without ever realising it,’ Zhia said with laughter in her voice, ‘as their father, the proud merchant, comes home after a long day to a great clatter of feet as his adoring women rush to greet him.’
‘Merchant? What would I sell?’ Doranei asked in surprise, unable to imagine himself doing anything so safe - or so legal. ‘My entire life’s been in the king’s service.’
‘This is the life we will not lead,’ Zhia reminded him. ‘Your father was a soldier in King Emin’s conquest, but he wanted a better life for his son and so he apprenticed him to a wine trader. You, in turn, are so filled with pride when young Manayaz announces he intends to join the Kingsguard, you cannot resist giving him your blessing.’
He frowned. ‘Manayaz? Even in your homeland, boys can’t have been called that since the Great War. Your father rather coloured most folk against the name.’
‘Manayaz,’ Zhia said with finality. ‘He will have his father’s size and his mother’s speed. No bully will take exception to his name more than once.’ She pulled Doranei’s hand tighter against his chest. ‘He will be a fine older brother to little Sebetin, the one whose smile melts the hearts of even his fierce gaggle of sisters.’
‘Sebe,’ Doranei whispered, ‘named for their favourite uncle, who still manages to get me into daft scrapes when we’re both old, rich and fat.’
‘The very same; who wakes early when he comes to visit and drags the children out with the dawn so we can have these few quiet moments together. These moments that mean as much to me as anything - these moments that last as we grow old together and watch our children make all the same mistakes we did when we were young.’ Zhia smiled and squeezed his hand. ‘Except the ones involving jumping off buildings or petting guard dogs; they’ll have the sense not to do those.’
‘What fools we are,’ Doranei said bitterly. ‘You, who doesn’t grow old; I, who’ll not survive to do so.’
‘It is not too late for you,’ Zhia said with a shake of the head. When she tried to continue, however, she felt the words catch in her throat. Neither of them could believe that; it wouldn’t matter what she said.
They lay together in silence until sounds began to emanate from elsewhere in the building and the tavern servants started their day. With the quiet broken Doranei eased himself away from Zhia, who let him go and watched while he dressed. Her eyes were closed when he bent to kiss her forehead and only opened again when the door clicked shut behind him.
CHAPTER 8
Low shafts of sunlight pushed between the trees as the witch of Llehden walked towards the lake. It was early enough to be crisp and cold still - two hours after dawn, and the sun hadn’t yet warmed the frost off the rusty bracken. The witch wore a wolfskin cloak, fastened at the throat by a bronze stag’s head clasp that looked incongruous with the rest of her clothes, and in her arms was a large, awkward-shaped bundle. Occasionally the bundle would wriggle, prompting the witch to shift her hold a little and whisper soothing words.
At the end of the path the trees opened up and afforded her a view across the still water. The other side of the lake was punctuated by rampant clumps of reeds standing higher than a man, beyond which stretched the long, undulating expanse of Tairen Moor. Several villages bordered the moor, but the only people you would ever find on the moor were travellers using the single road and the few peat-diggers and herdsmen who lived there.
The witch headed for the cottage on the lake’s shore. The sound of chopping wood rang out from the trees behind as she left the path, but stopped when she called loudly, ‘Grave Thief!’
As she reached the cottage door Mihn appeared from around the corner, sweat-slicked and red-cheeked from his exertions in the cold morning air.
‘Good morning,’ he called, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘You have something for us?’ he added, when he noticed the bundle in her arms.
‘For your patient.’
Mihn smiled faintly and came around to open the door for the witch. ‘I am glad to hear it. He is not much better since you last visited. The man is still there, but he is hiding deep inside.’
They entered, and the witch lost no time in crossing to where Isak was lying. He was not so tightly curled up as before, and it looked as if he had reacted slightly to the sunlight shining through the door, but he was a far cry from the arrogant, ebullient youth she had first met.
‘Is he biddable?’ she asked.
‘Just about.’ Mihn went to the square brick stove in the centre of the room and lifted the lid of a pot that was bubbling away on top of it. He stirred the contents, sniffing appreciatively, and replaced the lid before adding, ‘I have managed to get him up off the bed - I even got him outside once, but he went and fell into the water not long after so I do not know if that counts as a success.’
The witch frowned at him a moment, then crouched at Isak’s bedside. Her lips moved silently, and one hand reached out towards him. After a while she glanced back at Mihn.
‘I fear to take any more of his memories. The holes I’ve put in his mind will never heal.’
‘Then it will have to be enough,’ Mihn replied. ‘You did not promise anything more than that. If you have removed the worst of his experiences in Ghenna, then I am satisfied the risk was worthwhile. Some things no one should remember.’
The witch nodded and turned back to her patient. ‘Isak, can you hear me?’
The big white-eye turned his head fractionally at the sound of his name, but his eyes didn’t focus on the witch and after a moment he looked down again. If she was disappointed, the witch didn’t show it. Instead she pushed the bundle onto the bed beside him and carefully peeled the folds of the blanket open. Within was a bundle of floppy limbs and soft, greyish fur. She gently took Isak’s hand and put it down beside the bundle, and his touch was rewarded with a muffled squeak before the puppy lifted its head from the blanket and tentatively licked his fingers.
Isak recoiled. The witch could feel his body tense as he drew his hand back - but not all the way. His fingers remained outstretched, as though ready to reach again, waiting only for a cue. The witch stepped back and joined Mihn, who was watching.
The puppy, finding itself lacking the warmth of the witch’s body, lifted its head and looked at its new surroundings. Isak’s huge, heavy breaths made its flop-ears twitch and it started to snuffle its way around until it found the big man behind it.
Still Isak didn’t move, but both of them could tell he was more alert now than he had been since Xeliath had died.
The puppy took a while to get its folded limbs into some sort of order, then it bumbled its way forward towards Isak’s face, wriggling into the white-eye’s warm lee. It gave him a tentative wag, the tip of its tail brushing Isak’s fingers. After a moment they saw his fingers close a little, not grabbing at the tail, but letting the fur brush his flesh. The puppy edged closer to Isak’s face and pushed its nose against his shirt, snorting softly to itself as it breathed in his scent. Now Mihn could see it was a gangly bundle of grey-black fluff, all big paws and belly, with a ruff of dark fur around its neck. He couldn’t recall seeing any of its kind in Llehden before but he resisted the temptation to ask where it had come from.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Mihn whispered.
‘No,’ the witch admitted, ‘but Daima is. Before we can speak to the man we must remind his body of more basic things. The sensation of being alive is strange enough to him, but there are inbuilt needs - for warmth and comfort - that a pack animal might be able to coax out.’

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