Stalking Darkness (13 page)

“It certainly bears looking into,” agreed Nysander, “but just now I cannot seem to resist the music. Do you think we have a dance or two left in us, my dear?”

“I think they’ll have to chain your feet together to keep them still when they bury you,” Magyana replied with a twinkle.

Valerius watched with gruff fondness as the pair danced away. “Ridiculous, that Oreskan celibacy of hers. Those two should have married centuries ago.” Then something else appeared to catch his eye and a wry grin spread in the depths of his black beard. “Now there’s someone I didn’t expect to see here tonight. And just look who he’s with!”

“Ylinestra a Maranial Wisthra Ylinena Erind, Sorceress of Erind,” announced Runcer. “And Thero i Procepios Bynardin Chylnir Rhiminee, Wizard of the Second Order, of the Third Oreska.” “Well, well!” murmured Seregil.

Thero did look uncharacteristically sanguine, standing at the head of the chamber with Ylinestra on his arm. The sorceress’ silk gown glittered with jeweled beading and the bodice, fashionable in the extreme, showed pink half-crescent hints of nipple beneath the heavy necklace of pearl and jet she wore over her bared breasts. Her ebony hair was caught back in a similar jeweled web, exposing a graceful white neck.

Seregil propelled Alec forward with a gentle nudge. “Come on, Sir Alec. Let’s greet our illustrious guests.”

“Welcome to my home, lady,” he said, stepping up to kiss her hand.

“Thank you, Lord Seregil,” she replied with a cool nod. “And this must be your new companion I’ve been hearing so much about?”

“Alec of Ivywell,” Alec told her, wondering with sudden discomfort whether she recalled their first brief, tempestuous meeting soon after his arrival at the Oreska House. If she did, however, she gave no sign of it. Extending her hand, she enveloped him with a heart-stopping smile.

“Ah, a Mycenian. How delightful.”

She clearly meant for him to kiss her hand and he bent dutifully over it. A faint perfume rose in his nostrils, subtle yet strangely compelling.

Her hand, so warm and soft, lingered in his, and as he raised his head, his eyes swept across her breasts to her lovely violet eyes with a studied enjoyment he wouldn’t have imagined himself capable of. Still she held him, and her low-pitched voice sent an unfamiliar tingle through his body when she spoke.

“Nysander speaks so warmly of you. I hope that we may know one another better.”

“I’m honored, lady,” Alec replied, his voice sounding distant in his ears. She withdrew her hand at last and the world returned to normal.

“Good evening,” Thero said stiffly, looking somewhat less than pleased to be there.

“Forgive Thero’s bad grace,” Ylinestra murmured, once more wrapping Alec in the warm embrace of her eyes. “He is here only as a favor to me, I fear, and is being quite sulky. Come, Thero, perhaps wine will improve your disposition.”

As he escorted her into the throng, the actor Pelion stepped into their path with an elaborate bow, which Thero evaded with a curt and proprietary nod. Pelion fell back a pace, then followed Ylinestra with lovesick eyes.

“Ah, so that’s the actor’s hopeless love,” Seregil noted with a smirk. “He’s certainly got some competition tonight. And if Thero gets any stiffer, he’s likely to fall over and break.”

“She was kind of abrupt with you, I thought,” observed Alec. “Well, I’m not exactly her type. Evidently you are.” Alec colored warmly. Her perfume still clung to his fingers. “I only greeted her.”

The musicians struck up a reel and he turned to watch the dancers. Micum swirled by with Kari, laughing and smiling; Nysander and Magyana followed close behind. One of the poets had somehow captured Elsbet and she blushed happily as he swept her along. Across the room, Ylinestra was chatting with the actor while Thero hovered close at hand with badly concealed impatience.

“What’s she doing with Thero?” Alec wondered aloud. “Judging by the look of him, nothing he’d want Nysander to know about,” Valerius remarked.

“Nysander knows,” said Seregil. “I think he was getting bored with her, anyway, but I still say it was bad manners for her to grab Thero next.”

“I doubt if she was the only one doing the grabbing,” scoffed Valerius. “If he wants to stick his head in the dragon’s mouth, let him. Just see that young Alec here keeps a safe distance.”

“I just greeted her, for—” Alec sputtered, but was interrupted by Myrhini and Beka. “I’m off for the Vigil,” said Myrhini. “Hope to see you all at the investiture tomorrow.”

As soon as the captain was gone, Beka turned to Alec with a knowing grin. “Ylinestra’s very beautiful, wouldn’t you say?”

Alec groaned. “What was I supposed to do, knock her down?” “For a minute there I thought you were going to.”

“Well, I’m sure I’m no danger to her, when she can obviously have her pick of any man in Rhiminee,” he countered. “What about you, though? Can you dance in uniform?”

Beka looked down at her tabard and boots. “I think we can manage.”

They made a passable business of the reel and went on dancing when the next song began, in truth, Beka was in such high spirits over her commission that Alec thought she could probably fly if the notion struck her. They soon caught each other’s rhythm and went on dancing with scarcely a break until Micum cut in to say that Kari and the younger girls were retiring for the night.

“I didn’t realize how late it had gotten,” Beka said, letting go of Alec’s hand with evident regret. “I’ll go up and visit with Mother a while before I head back to the barracks. I’ve got to be up early for the ceremony.”

Giving Alec a quick peck on the cheek, she added, “You and Seregil are coming, aren’t you? There’ll be hundreds of us, of course, so you probably won’t even see me.”

“With that hair?” Alec teased, tugging at the end of her coppery braid. “You’ll stick out like a drunkard’s nose!”

“I’ll remember that remark the next time we work on your swordplay,” Beka warned with a dire grin. “Until tomorrow, then.”

Left to his own devices again, he looked for Seregil and spotted him on the far side of the crowded floor. No sooner had he worked his way through the crowd, however, when Seregil was waylaid by a noble complaining at length about some shipping venture he and Seregil were involved with. Alec listened politely for a time, but his attention soon wandered.

Looking around, he realized that the number of guests was dwindling. Off for more “games in the dark,” as Kylith had teased. Nysander and Magyana were still there, moving with stately grace through the circle of a galliard. Thero was dancing as well, but not with Ylinestra.

“Where’s she gotten to?” Alec wondered, looking around again.

In the garden.

The soft, caressing whisper came at his very ear, for him alone to hear.

Come into the garden.

There was no question this time; it was Ylinestra’s voice.

The mysterious summons came again, and with it a delicious languor. A couple walked past, lightwands in hand, and he marveled at the rainbow corona surrounding each glowing stone. The whole room, in fact, had taken on a warmer tone.

Perhaps Nysander and Magyana were tinkering with their creation? Skirting the dancers, he slipped unnoticed into the dining room and on out into the darkened garden.

Here. Come to me.

The voice guided him to a far corner of the garden screened by a small arbor.

He heard a faint sigh of silk and Ylinestra’s pale face resolved from the darkness. Her hands found his and lifted them to rest just above her hips.

She was slender and supple between his hands and he spread his fingers to better appreciate the sensation of her warmth beneath the cold fabric.

“My lady, I don’t understand,” he whispered, some small, distant part of him distinctly alarmed at his own actions. He’d never felt like this in his life.

“What is there to understand, lovely boy?”

How small she seemed, here in the darkness. Her lips brushed his chin as she spoke, her violet eyes pools of night just below his own.

“But Nysander—Thero? I thought—“

She laughed softly, and the sound drowned his own trepidation in another rush of voluptuous sensation.

“I do as I please, Alec, and I take what I want. And just now, I want you.”

Her hands found his again, holding his palms flat against her as she slid them upward. The roughness of embroidery met his touch, then the netted web of the necklace over her breasts.

“You’re trembling. Does my little magic frighten you? Do I frighten you?”

Alec drew a ragged breath. “I-I don’t know.”

Part of him sensed a snare, a trap, yet his whole body was gripped by a yearning unlike anything he’d ever known. Her scent filled his nostrils again as she slipped his fingertips beneath the edge of her necklace to press the bare, yielding swell of a breast.

“You have only to ask, Alec. I’ll release you if you ask. Shall I free you?”

She slipped a hand to the back of his neck to rest where Seregil’s so often did. Then she kissed him again, her lips parting, tongue gently seeking entrance and gaining it as her other hand stroked his side. Pulling him closer, she kissed her way to his neck.

“So young, so smooth,” she murmured, the touch of her breath sending a profound warmth to his loins. “So beautiful. Have you known a woman? No? So much the better.” She shifted slightly, bringing a half-exposed nipple against his fingers. “Tell me, shall I release you now?”

“Yes! No-I don’t know—” Alec groaned softly, then embraced her. Magic or not, newly awakened passions suffused him and he found her lips again, returning kiss for kiss.

“Close your eyes, my darling,” she whispered. “Shut them tight and I’ll show you another trick.”

Alec obeyed, and was startled to feel himself falling, tumbling onto something soft. When he opened his eyes again, the two of them were lying in the heavily draped enclosure of a huge bed. The forbidden glow of candlelight filtered through layers of colored silk, just bright enough for him to see that somewhere in the transition, their clothing had been left behind.

“Something wrong, my dear?” asked Nysander, seeing Magyana frowning over his shoulder as they danced.

“I was just watching Thero. He’s looking dour again, and he seemed to be having such a pleasant time. Has Seregil been teasing him again?”

“Not that I observed.”

Thero hovered grimly in a far corner, oblivious to the band of nymphs dancing on the wall just behind him as he scanned the room.

“I suspect Ylinestra has found more spirited companionship for the evening,” he guessed.

“Mmm. Well, that is a great deal less surprising than seeing them together in the first place. What in the world does she want with him?”

“He is not such a bad-looking lad,” Nysander said. “And he is young.”

“Yes, but he’s also your assistant,” sniffed Magyana. “I realize you don’t mind, but it still seems rather tactless of them.”

Nysander chuckled knowingly. “Passion is seldom governed by such niceties.” Just then, however, he caught sight of Seregil standing by the cider barrel. He was fiddling absently with a mug and looking rather perplexed.

“Come, my dear, you must be thirsty,” said the wizard, steering her in Seregil’s direction.

“You haven’t seen Alec in the last few minutes?” Seregil asked as they joined him.

The gloves were gone, Nysander noted, but a spotless strip of linen still bound each hand. He wondered what sort of explanation he’d concocted for his guests.

“Why, no. Is he missing?” replied the wizard.

“I don’t know. It’s been almost an hour since I last saw him. I’ve just been all over the house and he’s not here. It’s not like him to wander off. Could you take a look?”

Nysander closed his eyes and sent a seeking through the house and surrounding neighborhood, then shook his head.

“You don’t suppose-?” Magyana gestured discreetly in Thero’s direction.

Reluctantly, Nyander sent another of the spells to Ylinestra’s chamber, intending nothing more than a brief glimpse to ascertain the boy’s presence.

As he’d feared, Alec was there, but the energies surrounding him were not sexual. “What is it? Is something wrong?” Seregil asked beside him.

Nysander held up a warning hand without opening his eyes. “He is well. But I shall need a few moments—“

Intensifying the spell, he found Ylinestra crouched over Alec, who appeared to be asleep, sprawled on his back among the disheveled blankets with a blissful smile on his face. In contrast, Ylinestra’s face was a hard mask of concentration as she wove an unfamiliar sigil in the air above him. As it took form, the peaceful expression drained from Alec’s face. At first he simply looked blank, then his brow furrowed as he unconsciously turned his face away, a low sound of protest rattling in his throat. The sorceress leaned closer, enlarging the glowing symbol, then struck him sharply on the cheek in frustration.

“That will be quite enough, Ylinestra!” She whirled in surprise. The sigil snapped out of existence.

“Nysander? How dare you spy into my chamber!” she hissed, eyes wide with outrage at his disembodied intrusion. “You have no right!”

“More right than you, to work magic on an unwilling subject,” Nysander retorted sternly. “Send him back at once or I shall fetch him myself.”

“Such a fuss,” she purred, stroking a hand down Alec’s belly, knowing he would see. “I assure you, I did him no harm.”

“That remains to be seen.”

A moment later Nysander felt a ripple of magic from upstairs. When had she mastered the translocation spell?

With Seregil and Magyana close behind, he went up and found Alec deeply asleep in his own chamber.

Satisfied that the boy was unharmed, he placed a protective ward over the bed to curtail any further mischief and quietly closed the door.

“Well, I suspect I won’t be teasing him about his virginity anymore,” Seregil said, sounding a bit wistful. “He certainly fell in to the spirit of the evening in a hurry.”

“I doubt it was entirely his own doing,” Magyana said, wrinkling her nose in prim distaste. “If it turns out he was coerced, I want to know about it. There’s no place for that sort of behavior in the Oreska.”