The Sleeper Sword (67 page)

Abruptly he
slammed the mug onto the counter and ran down to the lower levels.
It was time to check on his captives.

A dark visit
would keep them guessing and satisfy his nocturnal frustration.

Saska sensed
him as he bent over her, but was too slow to prevent his hand
covering her mouth.

Even in the
dark she could read his intent. She began to fight, bit at his
fingers, but he merely pushed her down harder, and then dragged her
roughly from the bed. He pulled her screaming from the chamber and
slammed the door shut on the sleeping Margus.

Her fear gave
way to astonishment. This was the first time since coming to this
place she had been outside her cell. She went limp, feigning a dead
faint.

“Don’t pretend
with me,” he grunted and dropped her to the floor. She was no fool,
she fell like a senseless doll, gritting inwardly as her head and
elbows took the brunt.

He bent over
her, slapped her hard. It was too much and she attacked him tooth
and nail. He snarled in surprise and then started to laugh, fending
her off easily.

“Fight me,
stepmother,” he whispered tauntingly, his tone gleeful and
aroused.

She would not
give him the satisfaction. Breathing hard, she hurled sideways to
back up against the wall. It was a narrow space, a little landing
between the door and stairs. How stupid was she? She could have
sent herself to her death down those interminable stairs.

“Why now,
Tymall?” she croaked out. “For months you content yourself with
words - what has changed?”

He closed the
gap, placed a hand on either side of her and, while he did not
touch her, she was effectively pinned.

“You were
meant to lure him here and, if not you, then the Medaillon. He
showed remarkable restraint in biding his time. He denies me my
battlefield. However, the delay has also worked to my advantage,
for I was able to place him back on his pedestal, and the more they
love him, the harder will be his fall. Why has it changed, you ask?
I’m sick of waiting. Whether he comes or not, whether we fight here
or there is of no consequence anymore, but I shall have you before
I commit myself to war. Whether you live through it or not, I
couldn’t care less, but dead or alive, he will find damaged goods
when he finds you, Saska dearest. It’s too quiet out there; my
father plans something, I feel it inside. I’m out of time, for he
is tired of waiting.”

“You hurt me
and he will hound you.”

He grinned in
the dark. “I’m counting on it. I want him angry, vengeful, full of
hate. I want him to turn from the Light, for then he turns from the
most significant part of his power. He will be easier to defeat
and, more importantly, he will be the scourge of the universe,
hated most on Valaris.”

How
diabolical. Thinking fast, she blurted, “I’ll deny you touched me
…”

“Saska,
please, credit me with some intelligence. He won’t overlook your
injuries. That’s why I waited; I need him to find the evidence
fresh, not fading bruises.”

“You think
he’s coming.” In the dark, thinking he could not see, she
smiled.

He chuckled
and leaned against her. “I can see you, Saska, beware.” He lowered
his head into her neck and licked the smooth skin. Then he raised
his head to whisper in her ear, “Actually, I have no idea whether
he comes. I want to have you now, this night, and no other factor
drives me.”

Gripping her
head then, he kissed her. She clamped her lips shut, but he forced
his tongue in. She bit down, but he withdrew before she could draw
blood. Using his body to pin her against the wall, he lifted his
hands to rip her gown down the front and then tore the chemise
below to expose her breasts.

“You’ve grown
soft, stepmother,” he chuckled, cupping her breasts. “More of a
handful now … lovely.”

She leaned
forward to grip his ear with her teeth and pulled hard. He reared
back snarling, backhanded her viciously and then hurled her to the
floor. In grunting silence he fought her gown over her shoulders,
and then cursed and tore it away. Kicking, scratching, she fought,
knowing she aroused him further, but unwilling to let him have his
way without a fight.

“Margus!” she
cried.

He sat back
and in the interlude she scuttled away. “Margus?” he mocked,
watching her with feral intent. “How can he help you?”

Within the
chamber there was crashing noises and animalistic grunts. The Darak
Or in character.

“He’ll hurt
himself.”

“Now you care
about him? Goddess, how noble! Well, my soft plaything, I don’t
care. He can kill himself in there if he wants to.”

Tymall crawled
closer, gripped her hair and dragged her nearer. Holding her with
one hand, he undid his breeches. He pulled her head to his groin,
forcing her against his erect penis.

“Bite me and
you will die now and I’ll still spill myself into you.” He bucked
against her face and she fought more.

Working her
hands forward she managed to grip his testicles, squeezing hard. He
cried out and then ejaculated with an almighty groan, his hand
encircling hers, holding it there as his climax intensified.

Shivering, she
thanked all gods he was too excited to hold it in.

With a
disgusted snarl, he threw her from him.

Long moments
passed and then he rose, gripped her arm and threw her at the door.
She heard him mutter, the door opened, and he pushed her in,
locking it behind her.

Silence.
Inside and out.

Then footsteps
pounded down the stairs.

Shaken,
bruised, she rose from the floor and fell into the bed. Curling up
into a ball, she shuddered in silence, staring at the tinges of
grey created by the apertures.

Margus
returned to his bed and lay down.

The Enchanter
would tear his son limb from limb if he heard about this.

Fay did not
see Tymall for two days and when he returned he was taciturn.

He walked past
her where she prepared breakfast for one.

“Ty, do you
want …?”

“No.” He
continued up the stairs and after a time she heard the door to the
upper chamber slam shut.

Two hours
later he descended and found her in the library. Taking a seat
nearby, he said, “My father has raised the Valleur Throne.”

Dear god. He
was coming then. She swallowed and allowed him to see her fright,
knowing he would misconstrue it. “Does it alter anything?”

He considered.
“Maybe. If he did so immediately after his return, I’d have worked
around it already, and maybe that’s why he delayed. A few days, I
think, and I’ll have it reconfigured.”

She dared not
think, worried he would read her thoughts.

He glanced at
her. “Would you like to know who is now Vallorin?”

She shivered
markedly. And could not ask.

“There’s
nothing wrong in loving your brother, dearest. And, be assured, he
is still Vallorin.”
Not for long.

She slumped.
Tannil, thank the gods, was spared utter humiliation.

A short
silence and then, “I apologise for leaving you alone. There was
trouble in the castle I didn’t want to involve you in.”

“Darklings
getting cocky?”

“Something
like that.” He rose and looked down at her.

“What happened
to your ear?”

His face went
dead. “A scuffle. It’s nothing.”

“It looks
infected, let me take a look …” Fay said and then cursed silently.
She dared not touch him. He would realise her Valla blood was
reinstated.

“It will
heal.”

She breathed a
sigh of relief. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, no,
I’m sorry, I need to do work with the Throne’s influence, begin the
countering. I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

He turned to
go and stopped when she asked, “Maybe we can take a walk outside
the castle?”

“Yes. It
promises to be a clear night.”

The heavens
were star-filled, constellations foreign to Fay.

The dry desert
air was cool and refreshing, sounds travelling far. At night the
world of the darklings possessed ethereal beauty. Mauves and greys
under the diffuse light of two moons.

They walked
slowly. He was silent and, thinking to give him comfort, she
reached out and took his hand. He started in surprise and then
looked down.

Lifting their
linked hands, he murmured, “No one has ever willingly taken my hand
… no woman, anyway. My father was free and unconditional with his
love when Tris and I were young, but my mother pushed both of us
aside. There was no nursemaid to turn to in her stead.” He rubbed
his thumb over her fingers. “Do you always wear gloves?”

“It’s cold out
here, Ty.”

“You’re
keeping me at arm’s length.”

“And you
aren’t? Are we both not afraid of what closeness would mean? We
believe we’ll get hurt.”

He looked
away. “I can’t afford to be distracted by you, yet I couldn’t leave
you there in that melting pot.” He stopped and drew her around to
face him. Features were a play of shadows. “It will get bad there.
Your family will take the brunt of it. I need to know you accept
this and not betray me when my back is turned.”

She stared
into his eyes. “What do you want me to say? I love my family and I
don’t want them hurt. Maybe I’m here because I hope to change your
mind - it certainly plays a role. I care what happens to them, how
can I not? But, I am here for you above all …”

“Why? You know
what I am.”

“I think maybe
I don’t, to be honest,” she said and was entirely truthful.
“However, how can I not follow the dictates of my heart? Why do I
have to turn my back? Always I turn my back.”

“And what does
your heart say?” he asked, leaning closer. His long hair fell
forward to shadow his face.

“I’m afraid of
the words, thus I’ll say it tells me my place is at your side.” Her
voice quavered.

He leaned
closer and touched her lips with his.

Trebac
sparked.

He froze,
whistled a surprised breath.

There was only
one thing to do.

Fay leaned
forward, cupped his head in her gloved hands, and kissed him
open-mouthed. He pushed her away and she could not see his face,
and then he drew her back, one hand cupped behind her head to kiss
her again. The kiss was long and searching. Trebac fizzled in tiny
electric sparks.

Tymall pulled
away, retreated and started to laugh. “Well, I give my father full
marks! He has outdone himself!”

She drew
breath, her blood a-fire. “It wasn’t like that, Ty. I asked to do
this.”

“Why?” There
was a thread of danger in his voice.

She heard it,
but heard also the excitement. “Because you lied to me, because you
were going to use me to get to Tannil and the others. I couldn’t
allow it and I wanted to get to you for …” Her confidence trailed
off.

“For?” he
prompted, eyes glittering.

She sighed. “I
was attracted to you; I still am.”

There was a
long silence, the two of them attempting to probe each other’s
expressions. Tymall shook his head eventually and started to walk
back to the castle.

She had to do
something. Either she would die or the two prisoners would this
night.

“To mask the
Vallas I reinstated my blood,” she began, and he came to a halt,
standing with his back towards her. “I love my family, Ty, and I
won’t apologise for it, not ever.”

“I grant you
that, but you also know, as did the Enchanter, you left a clear
trail for him to follow, one even my cloaking couldn’t render
invisible. You agreed to bring him here, to reveal me. You’ve been
playing me.”

“Yes.” She
approached and drew him around. He did not resist and that was more
frightening than if he had. “Yes, Ty, I did all that, but you
expected him anyway.”

“True. But you
were planted to gather intel …”

“No. I … gods,
dare I admit this aloud?”

The twin moons
lit his face faintly, showing her a perplexed and wary frown. “If
you want to live, Fay, you’ll need to come up with something and
you had better tell the whole truth.”

She looked at
her gloved hands and drew them off. Dropping them to the ground,
she closed the gap between them to place her warm hands on his
tense cheeks. Blue kinfire revealed their connection.

“Do you feel
that? Dare I say I wanted to make love with this in the bed with
us? What does it tell you of me? That I can only relate to my blood
despite centuries of denying it? I am not a whole person, Tymall; I
never was. Is that why I am attracted to you? What are you reaching
in me? Who am I? On the one hand I’ll do anything to protect my
family and on the other I want what is wrong, what is forbidden by
what you are, not who you are. There is something intrinsically
askew inside me, I think …”

He placed his
hands over hers, intensifying the blue sparks. “If my father comes,
where do your loyalties lie?”

She smiled.
“He
will
come, for Saska. That’s why he agreed to let me do
this. But it was the price I had to pay to stand here - with you,
not against you.”

“A dangerous
trade-off, Fay, and why should I trust you now?”

“You lied. I
lied. You used me. I used you. An eye for an eye - that makes us
even. Your father comes, but you want that. Was it not
your
plan?”

“Yes,” he
acknowledged and she thanked all gods he at least talked to her.
“However, the way I read it, he needed you to get to me. Now why
would that be? The Medaillon should suffice.”

Silence ensued
that she did not interrupt - she knew nothing of the Medaillon -
and then he barked out, “You haven’t convinced me of your
trustworthiness.”