Blackmark (The Kingsmen Chronicles #1): An Epic Fantasy Adventure Page 45

  “I’m sorry, Luc,” Ghrenna murmured. It left so much unsaid between them, but it was honest, and it was all she had.

  His demeanor was bitter, not a trace of teasing anywhere in him. “Not as much as I am, Ghren. If this is what it takes, to prove to you what kind of man I am, I’ll do it. What does Elohl have that I don’t? History? History is what you make of it. You can start rewriting your history anytime, Ghrenna. I did.”

  “I can’t run from this, Luc. This connection with Elohl, these visions…they’ll either kill me, or I’ll figure out what they’re for. Either way, I need Elohl’s help.”

  “But you need me, too.” His eyes were fervent now, determined.

  “I never said I didn’t.” Ghrenna murmured, feeling split inside.

  He paused at that, golden eyebrows knitting. “But you’ll never admit that you do.” Luc was out and through the door like smoke, shutting it soundly behind him.

  Ghrenna sat back against the headboard and pillows, feeling hollow. She couldn’t stop staring at the door. Maybe Luc would come back. Maybe Elohl would come back. Maybe they would both leave. Leave her alone, again. So alone and unloved. The witch who saw deaths. Maybe they would only tear each other apart, because of her, leaving them all to die out in the snow. An image filled Ghrenna suddenly. A waking vision. Two men, upon their knees before her, stripped to the waist and bloody from fighting. In a cavern of ice, they knelt before her upon sigils that glowed now with a blue-white fire, and now flamed with orange and red.

  And with her bared knife, Ghrenna felt herself slay them both.

  She jolted in the bed. Her headache flared like fire. Eleshen was peering at her concernedly. Ghrenna knew she was pale, that she was sweating cold despite the stifling heat of the day in their small rooms. Eleshen offered another wrung-out washcloth. Ghrenna took it gratefully, laying it over her forehead. Resting her head back on the pillows, she tried to forget what she had just seen, what she had just experienced, the raw brutality of it.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’ve had worse.”

  Eleshen eyed her. “Does this always happen when you have a vision?”

  Ghrenna nodded. “I’m usually weak, and there’s a headache, but sometimes I seize. The nosebleed was new, though.” She could still taste the tang of it in her mouth.

  “The others say Elohl triggered it. Your seizing. Last night.”

  This time, it was Ghrenna who eyed Eleshen. “You’re his woman, aren’t you?”

  The green-eyed girl sniffed in irritation. “I’m not his woman. I’m not a cow. We’re simply traveling together.”

  Ghrenna lifted an eyebrow, got a spike of pain, then thought better of it, relaxing back against the headboard. “Could have fooled me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You were taking my measure the moment Luc opened the door. And his charms usually work on women.”

  “I’m not the type to be charmed by rogues.” Eleshen was scowling, arms crossed, peevish. “Anyway, he’s got eyes for only one woman, and you’re a damn fool if you don’t see it! That Luc is wrapped around your little toe, True Seer, and you’re squashing his love like a cockroach!”

  Ghrenna blinked, moving the cold washcloth to the back of her neck. “You’re feisty.”

  “We’re not discussing me!” Eleshen spat, all hot vinegar and quicksilver.

  “You would have made a good Kingswoman.”

  Eleshen’s lips dropped open. “What?”

  “You heard me. You’ve got the gall for it. And a sharp mind.”

  “I…” Eleshen looked flustered a moment, fiddling with her long blonde braid. Her cheeks flushed, and she was pretty when she did. Lovely, in an innocent kind of way that Ghrenna would never have. “I wanted to be a Kingswoman, when I was younger. Elohl’s father saved me, you know. From a burning building. I would have died were it not for him. Ever since then… I used to dream about it. Heroic fancies and all that.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Quelsis, originally. My father Eiric den’Fhenrir was Dhepan of Quelsis. He always called the Kingsmen in when there was trouble. Our family was declared treasonous for trying to put pressure on the Crown after the Summons. I’ve been keeping an inn in the mountains ever since. I never got to live those childish dreams.”

  “Neither did I.” Ghrenna murmured, feeling all those lost years.

  Eleshen blinked, and her face rouged. “I owe you an apology. I was so… possessive of Elohl. I never thought how all your lives must have been. Something rides him, Ghrenna. Something hard and demanding and brutal. He’s been lighter since the seven-eye stone, but… sometimes I still feel that darkness in him.”

  Ghrenna felt tears welling. She stilled them, knowing that any crying would make her headache wretched. “Elohl wasn’t always troubled. He demanded much of himself, but he used to be serene, for the most part. I think I always troubled him, though. It’s good that he has you. He needs someone… bright. Happy.”

  Eleshen was all kindness now, much like Shara, reaching out to take Ghrenna’s hand. “Isn’t there anything I can do?”

  “There’s a tin in my pack, there on the nightstand. Will you bring it? And a glass pipe in the leather pouch on the belt of my harness, there, on the chair. Light it, please, set it here by bed.”

  Eleshen did, and as Ghrenna settled back down into the covers, she reached out to take away the now-warm washcloth. “Do you need food?”

  Ghrenna shook her head, feeling the threllis in the air taking the edge off her pain. “No. If I eat, I’ll vomit again.”

  “Was your vision something happy, at least?” Eleshen quipped with a hopeful smile. “Something nice to compensate for all this pain?”

  Ghrenna smiled a little, the threllis wafting through the air soothing her now, swaddling her in a blanket for her mind. “You have so much hope. No. My visions are mostly full of dire tidings. I used to think that was why I get so much pain when I have them. Because the visions are nothing I want to see. And I fight them…”

  Eleshen had taken Ghrenna’s hand while Ghrenna spoke, like a sister, her eyes full of sorrow. “That’s so awful. What did you see this time, that triggered this latest bout?”

  Ghrenna’s gaze went long, staring past Eleshen towards the door. “Nothing I can control. Nothing I can ever unburden myself from.”

  “Sometimes talking about these things helps.” Eleshen murmured.

  Ghrenna glanced at her. Eleshen’s pretty heart-shaped face was tight with concern, and Ghrenna saw again why Elohl kept her close. Ghrenna drew a deep breath of threllis-smoke, and sighed it out, relaxing into the pillows. What would it matter, to talk about it? “They’re often indistinct,” she murmured, staring up at the ceiling now, “but sometimes I feel them, like I’m the one being hurt. This time, I felt a woman, saw it, experienced it, felt her pain as she was stabbed…”

  And Ghrenna found herself opening up to this bright-eyed confidante of Elohl’s, telling everything she could remember of the event she had witnessed, and of the white-eyed woman beckoning from the Alranstone with the bloody half-lidded oculus. It felt good to unburden herself, for once, telling it all, all the pain of the vision, every horrible agony of the woman who had been stabbed. Telling someone how Ghrenna felt herself dying, felt her own body screaming in agony from the wound. That she’d been witness to the event, in the vision, and also inside the woman’s body, all at the same time.

  A horrible place to be.

  Eleshen listened to it all, taking it in, every awful detail. And when Ghrenna was done, she only nodded. Lifting a hand, she touched Ghrenna’s brow with the kindness of a mother, smoothing back Ghrenna’s sweat-streaked waves from her forehead. “I’m glad you told me. No one should have to bear such things alone.”

  Something about her simple kindness broke Ghrenna. Tingling prickled her eyes, and she held her tears back. Crying would only make her headache flare. “I think I need to sleep a while.” Ghrenna murmur
ed, threllis making her groggy, her eyelids heavy now.

  “I’ll leave the pitcher of water.” Eleshen eyed Ghrenna a moment, her brows pinched in concern. Then seemed to change her mind, wrinkling her nose at the threllis. “Do you mind if I take a walk? Do you need me here while you sleep?”

  Ghrenna nodded. “The pipe will be out in half an hour. I should be asleep by then. I usually sleep three to four hours when this happens. Do what you need to.”

  Eleshen rose to her feet regally but spoiled it by nearly tripping over herself as she turned for the door. “I’ll inform the goodwife to check in on you if I’m not back soon.”

  Ghrenna nodded, but her mind was already clouding into sleep as she heard the latch click in the door.

  CHAPTER 29 – DHERRAN

  Up a grand staircase of white marble with a cobalt carpet and golden runners, Dherran and Khenria were led by the Vicoute Arlen den’Selthir’s butler, then down a long hall on the second floor of the manor. Decorated with suits of ancient armor, hunting horns, old lances and painted steel shields, the hall was a wonder of military treasures. The butler finally stopped at one of the last doors in the hallway, opening it, gesturing them in. It was opulent. Dherran couldn’t help but stare as they wandered into rooms that were far more than fine. Richly carven white-oak was everywhere. Cobalt carpets set with the crest of a lance and bitter-holly sprigs swaddled the well-polished floorboards. Dherran watched Khenria wander their apartment, opening a door to find that they had separate, but adjoining, bedrooms.

  The butler bowed himself out, closing the white-oak doors.

  “What the hell is going on?” Dherran murmured, so completely befuddled at their welcome to the Vicoute’s manor that he had forgotten his rage.

  “I guess we’re supposed to clean up.” Khenria had moved to a stout copper tub in one corner of the room. She fiddled with some brass knobs on the wall, and suddenly, the tub was sluiced with steaming water from a spout. Dharran moved over, marveling at it.

  “Look Dherran!” Khenria gasped. “Both hot and cold water, brought directly to the tub!”

  “I’ve heard such piping existed in lord’s homes,” Dherran murmured, touching the knobs, fascinated, “and in Roushenn Palace, but I’ve never experienced it.”

  Khenria was already disrobing. “Well, I’m taking advantage of it.” She was naked in a trice, her round ass and narrow hips enticing as she shifted her weight to climb in. Dherran tried to ignore her as she washed. Tried to remind himself he was pissed at her for the past few days. But she was magnificently distracting. How she moved, how she cocked her head so that long, lean neck showed every graceful sinew, curious as a raven at everything, smelling all the soaps upon the silver tray near the bath, trying them all upon her smooth skin. Brushing her skin with a boar-bristle scrubber on a long wooden handle. Khenria’s lithe movements were completely distracting, and Dherran's eyes strayed to her shoulders, so lean above the rim of the bath, but hard with muscle.

  Sitting upon the bed, he found himself staring. Wanting. Every curve of her, every angle. He was about to stride to the bath and haul her out, when she spoke suddenly. “Are you worried about Grump, Dherran?”

  It took him aback, cooling his ardor somewhat. And suddenly, he realized he was worried about what had happened to Grump, why he’d not been in the tent after the fight. “Yeah. I am. Are you?”

  “Not really.” She murmured, brushing with the scrubber.

  “Why not?” Waiting like this while Khenria lounged in the bath naked was driving him insane, but he tried to focus upon the conversation.

  Khenria sighed, sluicing with water. “He’s disappeared like this before. Once for a whole week. Another time, he hid me in a cave for five days.”

  Dherran frowned. “Without telling you what he’s doing?”

  She shook her head. “He talks a lot, but he doesn’t say much. He always leaves after he gets quiet like this for a few days. Although, I thought he was just quiet this time because of what I said. I did apologize.”

  “Did he take it well?”

  “He seemed to.” With that, she finally rose from the bath, water cascading from every luscious curve. Reaching out to tuck a thick cotton towel about her torso, Khenria was aware of what she was doing to him. She looked back over her shoulder, meeting his gaze. The fires in Dherran surged. He rose from the bed, moving to her, catching her in his arms as she stepped from the tub, crushing her close.

  “I want you.” Dherran murmured in her ear, hot, breathing hard.

  Khenria flushed, desire flaring. “You’re filthy. I’m clean. Wash first.”

  With a growl, Dherran stepped back. Stripping fast, he was in the tub in a trice, slurrying soap into lather in his hands, scrubbing everything with haste. In two minutes he was back out, entirely wet, the heat of the water having soothed his lust not at all. Striding to her without toweling off, he wrangled her in his arms and thrust her to the bed. She fell to the silk coverlet, challenging, daring him. Her towel gaped enticingly, baring a long swath of curvaceous hip.

  That did it. Dherran's resistance broke. He wanted her, fuck it all. He needed her, now. She was such a bitch, and she was so beautiful, and he loved the way she’d strung him along and he hated it. He wanted to punish her for it. He wanted to rip that towel away, to take those firm curves in his hands and suckle her pert little breasts until she screamed. Ever since she had slid into his bed, they had been dancing around each other just like this. And finally, Dherran decided. He would take her, and make her cry like a falcon for him.

  Barely containing his lust, Dharran reached out, stroking his fingers down her bared hip, slowly, enjoying her shudder. “You are such a cruel mistress. You know you are. Teasing me like you have. Holding a knife to my throat to try and get me to take you. You don’t give me much choice about this. About what I’m going to do to you.”

  Her grey eyes were veiled now, hot with feral anticipation. “And what do you think you can do to me?”

  Dherran growled in his throat. He was on the bed in a flash. Grasping her wrists, he pinned her arms above her head, the towel coming fully undone. Leaning down, he kissed her neck, cruel, pressing his hips down at the same time, beginning to rub himself, hard and ready, between her legs, letting her feel his cruelty. Making her expect it. Wrapping her long legs up around him, his Hawk Talon moaned. He dipped his head, taking one high, young nipple in his mouth, beginning to suck it nice and slow. Khenria writhed beneath him, her hips rolling in the motion of fucking him already, so needful, so ready for this game between them.

  “Aeon, Dherran…!” She gasped. “Gods don’t stop! Please, I need you… I need you deep…”

  She was so hot, so wet where he rubbed between her legs. But this wasn’t about consummation, this was about punishment. For everything she was doing to him. Dherran suckled her breast harder, faster, and she mewled for him, bucking. He moved to the other breast, fierce enough to make her writhe, slow enough to make her need. Sliding his phallus in her juices, he moved his hips just so, just so he’d slide over her entrance but not slip in, not yet.

  Not yet.

  Suddenly, a knock rapped upon the door, as if a servant had been out in the hall, waiting for just the right moment to cause violent frustration. Dherran snapped like bowstring, souring. “What, dammit?!” He yelled at the door.

  “Dinner, sirrah!” Was called through the door. Footsteps moved off down the hall. Growling in frustration, Dherran repositioned himself over Khenria, taking her nipple back into his mouth, pulling hard.

  “Dherran!” She squeaked, laughing now instead of writhing.

  “What?” His growl was peeved as he moved to kissing her ribs, determined.

  “We've got to go to dinner!” Khenria laughed, squirreling out from underneath him and jumping sprightly off the bed, her lean limbs and hips and little breasts frustratingly gorgeous. “We've been summoned by a lord. You don't just keep a lord waiting while you fuck in his guest suites!”

  “I can.
And I will.” Dherran made a swipe for her, his need high, his balls aching like hell from how hard he was. Khenria laughed, mean as she dodged his swipe, lithe and utterly naked, then darted in to fondle him.

  “Keep it warm for me, Dherran. We'll be here all night, and we've got adjacent rooms...”

  “You bitch!” Dherran growled, flopping back to the coverlet, gasping for breath, trying to push back the swamping tide of his arousal. It wasn't working. She'd gotten him good. She laughed and Dherran glared, then lurched from the bed to where his clothes lay in a puddle by the bathtub. He reached for his trousers, yanking them on so hard the fabric strained.

  “Don’t you want to wear something nicer? There are fresh shirts in here, and a few sets of trousers, with a jerkin or two that might fit you.” Khenria spoke from the white oak wardrobe near the tub, bare-ass naked where she pawed through the fancy clothes.

  “No.” Dherran started buckling his belt, studiously avoiding staring.

  “But these are so very fine…” A sigh of wistfulness tinged her voice as she touched the fabrics.

  “This will do.”

  She scowled, her straight black brows set in a line of irritation. “You can’t go to supper at a Vicoute’s manor dressed like you slept under the trees, Dherran!”

  “Leave it, little hawk.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Be a filthy lout. But I’m getting dressed properly for dinner with a fine lord.” She strode from the room, still naked from their unconsummated writhing, slamming the door between their rooms with a swift backhand. Dherran heard a bell pulled from her room, then the muted voices of two women, then light laughter, then an ongoing buzz of chatter. He paced his room, waiting. Another knock came at his door. Dherran strode to it, throwing it open, the startled servingman before the door recoiling.

  “What?!” Dherran roared in his face.

  “If you please, sirrah.” The dark-haired, fit servingman in a plain leather jerkin spoke blandly, his face a cultured mask. “The lady has asked for dressing-maids. Would you appreciate some assistance with your wardrobe for dinner?”