My Reaper's Daughter (46 page)

are you going to punish me,
Mo Regina
?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Until you have atoned for those sins, My Shadowlord,” She stated.

The High Lord trembled with the force of his hurt and anger. “I know you put the

temptation in my path. You were the cause of everything that happened to me on

Rysalia Prime.” He clenched his hands into fists he dared not use against his

tormentress. “Just as you caused the temptation here.”

She smiled nastily at him. “It hurts to want something you know you will never

have, doesn’t it, Khee?”

With a flick of the long copper gown that fit Her like a second skin, the Triune

Goddess tossed Her head and vanished in a plume of violet smoke, leaving Kheelan

Ben-Alkazar with tears running treacherously down his ashen cheeks.

* * * * *

“We await your pleasure, Your Grace,” Prime Reaper Arawn Gehdrin spoke for

him and his fellow Reapers as the High Lord took his seat.

They were all assembled—the male and female Reapers standing side by side

rigidly at attention, the lone Amazeen standing off to one side with her arms crossed

over her chest, the Gatekeepers seated at an angle to the High Bench from which the

Shadowlords reigned.

The judgment of Glyn Kullen was at hand.

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Lord Kheelan sat between Lords Naois and Lord Dunham. He flicked an uneasy

glance over Glyn Kullen then cleared his throat. “Lord Kullen, step forward,” he

commanded.

“With all due respect, Your Grace,” Arawn interrupted. “My men and I would like

to speak on Lord Kullen’s behalf.”

“No.”

Arawn stepped out of line though he still held himself straight as an arrow.

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but there is not a man here who would not have

done what Lord Kullen did.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Lord Kheelan snapped. “Now step back and—”

“That’s only because you have no heart,” Arawn accused. His hands were clenching

and unclenching at his sides. “There might be an organ beating in your chest but it’s for

sure it isn’t a gods-be-damned heart! You have no heart, Kheelan Ben-Alkazar!”

“You know nothing at all about me so I suggest you be careful what you say,

Gehdrin,” the High Lord warned.

“Or what?” Arawn snarled. “You want to send me to a con cell for speaking the

truth, then do it!”

“Oh, he did
not
say that,” Danielle Gehdrin groaned, giving her husband’s back a

heated stare.

“Arawn, please,” Glyn whispered. “Don’t give him reason to punish you.”

“Let him!” Arawn spat. “He enjoys tormenting us. He thrives on it! Ask Owen if

that isn’t true!”

“I did not make Glyn Kullen break the rules he swore to uphold, Gehdrin!” the

High Lord snapped. “He did that all on his own. He disobeyed a direct order not to

transfer one of his hellions to that child and he did it anyway. Under normal

circumstances the penalty for his crime would be dishonorable discharge, forfeiture of

all pay and allowances and confinement in a con cell for two years.”

“Is that what you have planned for him, Kheelan?” Lady Aingeal spoke up. She

was staring daggers at the High Lord though she stayed where she was in line.

“No,
Aingeal
, it isn’t,” Lord Kheelan snapped—putting emphasis on her name—and

then flicked his eyes to the female Reaper’s mate 3-I-C Cynyr Cree.

“If you intend to make his jail time longer—” Aingeal began, but was shocked into

silence when the High Lord shot to his feet.

“Captain Aracnea!” he bellowed. “Step forward!”

The Amazeen dropped her arms from her chest. “Aye, Your Grace!” She cut her

attention over to Glyn as she came to stand before the High Bench.

“You will escort Lord Kullen to the quad where his punishment will be meted out!”

Lord Kheelan snarled. “With only my fellow Shadowlords and I and the males of his

team in attendance.”

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“Why can’t we women be there?” Aingeal dared to ask.

“Because I said so and if you open your mouth one more time, your husband will

accompany Lord Glyn and stand the same punishment he is to receive. Is that clear to

you, wench?”

Absolute silence met the High Lord’s demand.

“His punishment is not my doing but rather at the bequest of the goddess Herself. I

want you to understand that and remember it. This is none of my doing.”

“That can’t be good,” Owen mumbled beneath his breath.

“What is going to happen to him?” Arawn boldly asked, his forehead creased with

concern.

The Shadowlord ignored the question. “Despite refusing to obey a direct order,

Lord Kullen will not be discharged from the Reaper Corp nor will he be required to

spend time in the con cell. He will pay for his offense and that will be the end of it,”

Lord Kheelan pronounced. “Dismissed!”

As the Gatekeepers preceded the Shadowlords in leaving the room, the Reapers

looked to the Amazeen who could do no more than shrug. For the first time since

making the warrioress’s acquaintance, the Reapers and their ladies saw uncertainty and

disquiet on the tall woman’s smooth features.

“What do you think the punishment will be, Penthe?” Bevyn asked.

“How the fuck would I know, Coure?” the Amazeen head of security barked in

reply.

“You’re a Blackwind,” Arawn stated. “You have as much psychic ability as do my

Reapers.”

“Aye, but I am not high on the list of people the Triune Goddess likes,” Penthe

snapped. “Whatever is planned is being hidden from me.”

“Not good,” Iden said.

Glyn squared his shoulders. “Well, whatever it is, let’s get it over with.” He met the

Amazeen’s worried eyes. “And stop looking like you’re about to stick me with that

gods-be-damned Dóigra of yours.”

“Do you see it in my fucking hand, Kullen?” Penthe growled. “I was told not to

bring it so I sincerely doubt it will be part of your punishment.” She put out a hand and

shoved him none too gently. “Get a move on, will ya?”

With Glyn in the lead, the others fell in behind him as he left the room and turned

right down the long corridor that led to the door to the courtyard around which the

five-sided building of the Citadel had been built. He pushed open the two wide doors

to the outside and stepped out on the portico, feeling the rush of cool breeze flowing in

from the ocean just beyond the southeastern and southwestern sections of the structure.

Grateful it had finally stopped raining, he left the portico and descended the ten wide

steps to the flagstone walkway.

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My Reaper’s Daughter

“Mother of the goddess,” he heard someone—he thought it was Phelan—say just as

his gaze fell on the same thing the others were seeing and he felt his knees grow weak.

He would later tell Owen that from the moment Lord Kheelan had ordered Penthe

to take him to the quad he had feared this was to be the punishment Morrigunia had

chosen for him. And though he had thought himself prepared should that be the case,

the sight that greeted him turned his stomach and he felt a cold shudder ripple down

his body. He had stopped walking—could not seem to go another step—as he stared at

the hideous apparatus.

It was a horrible thing standing there stretching toward the heavens, its rough bark

glistening with what had to be tar. From where it had been brought, Glyn didn’t know

nor at that moment did he care. The sight of it was enough to take the starch out of any

man’s sails and it looked so out of place, so evil placed there in the courtyard of the

Citadel where a pristine fountain flowed and marble benches sat among cherry trees

and immaculately groomed shrubs. The vile thing was a blight, a pestilence upon the

beautiful landscape.

Towering ten feet from the ground, the apparatus was a foot thick and dangling

from the top were two long, thick chains upon which twin wrists clamps were attached.

From the midpoint of the heavy wooden beam were two sections of a wide belt—

without doubt meant to secure the one being punished securely to the upright.

“Flogging,” Arawn spat as though the word were a bitter brew. “By all that’s holy

this isn’t right.”

“If this is
Mo Regina
’s idea of punishment, I hope I never get on her bad side,” Iden

muttered.

“Where is She?” Cynyr asked, flexing his shoulders as though he were reliving

similar punishments from long ago. “Why isn’t She here to witness this?”

Glyn knew the Triune Goddess was there though hiding Her presence. She would

not order one of Her Reapers hurt without making sure She was there to prevent any

permanent damage being wrought. They were—after all—Hers to do with as She

would.

“Who’s going to wield the cat in Kheelan’s hand?” Phelan asked.

“Me,” Penthe said softly.

The Shadowlords were standing off to one side, their faces grave. Lord Kheelan was

motioning the Amazeen forward and Penthe went reluctantly, twisting her head

around to give Glyn a sorrowful look.

“I don’t want to do this,” she said.

“I don’t want you to do this either,” Glyn replied.

“Lord Arawn. Lord Bevyn,” the High Lord called out. “Escort Lord Glyn to the post

and prepare him.”

“Damn,” Arawn snapped, but it was his duty as Prime Reaper and Bevyn’s as

second-in-command of the team.

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Owen moved over to where his twin was standing. His hands thrust deeply into the

pockets of his black leather uniform pants, Eanan was staring intently at the whipping

post. He cut his eyes to Owen.

“I’ve felt the pass of the cat,” Eanan said. “I feel for him.”

“He’ll heal,” Owen said. “We always do.”

“Still,” Eanan said, hunching his shoulders.

“Every man here is feeling the same thing, brother,” Owen told him. He put a hand

on his twin’s back for just a brief moment. “I am glad She is going to allow you to join

us.”

Eanan gave him a surprised look. “So am I, Owen.”

“You ready?” Arawn asked as he and Bevyn walked over to Glyn.

“No,” Glyn admitted. He was finding it harder and harder to lift his feet, to go any

closer to the ugly device hunched there like a demon awaiting a taste of his blood.

“You are a Reaper,” Arawn said. “Remember that.”

Glyn took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a brief moment and then swallowed

hard, releasing his breath in a wavering exhalation. “I hope to the goddess the

womenfolk don’t see this.”

“The steel storm shutters have all been lowered on the windows looking down into

the courtyard,” Bevyn said. “No one will see what happens here except us.”

“When it’s done, I don’t want Mystery or Valda anywhere near me until I’ve

healed,” Glyn said, finally finding the courage to begin walking toward the whipping

post.

“I’ll see to it,” Arawn assured him.

* * * * *

Lord Kheelan’s head was down as he walked aimlessly down the long corridor. He

was bone-weary, sick at heart and plagued by memories he wished would go away so

he could have a modicum of peace. He barely noticed that he had arrived at the

staircase leading up to his private apartments but as he climbed the first few risers,

every muscle in his body began to ache.

“You’re a mean old man and I really, really don’t like you.”

The High Lord looked up to find himself staring into the angry eyes of the little girl

whose life had been so drastically altered by a man who loved her more than he loved

life.

Valda was sitting halfway up the stairs, her pretty dress tucked around her knees

and held in place by the circle of her arms. Beside her was her dolly.

“I’m really not a bad man, Valda,” Lord Kheelan said tiredly. “I just have a job to

do and—”

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My Reaper’s Daughter

“You’re a very bad man because you were mean to my papa!” Valda snapped.

“And you won’t let me have a puppy.”

Putting his right foot on the next riser, Lord Kheelan bent forward with his arm on

his raised knee and studied the child. She would be a beautiful woman one day, but at

that moment in time, she was all arms and legs and pouting lips, and her anger was a

sentient life form glaring back at him with lethal intent.

He smiled indulgently. “This isn’t a good place for pets, Valda.”

“It’s Lady Valda,” the child said, her little pointed chin lifted. “I am a Reaper, I’ll

have you know!”

Lord Kheelan’s lips twitched with humor. “I stand corrected, milady,” he said,

bowing his head. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“See that you don’t,” she stated.

“Did you know Sir Giles and Harry put together a playroom for you?” he asked,

wanting desperately for the child to ease up on her disdain for him.

Valda sat up. “A playroom? Where?”

“I believe it’s on the lower floor near the kitchens. You might want to go check it

out.”

The child got to her feet, tossing her head. “I might,” she agreed, and started down

the stairs. As she reached the step over which he was leaning, she gave him a narrowed

look. “I still don’t like you.” Childlike, she stuck her tongue out at him then continued

on down the stairs.

Lord Kheelan sighed heavily and his head dropped to his chest.

“The child is not the only one who doesn’t like you right now.”