Prince of Swords (10 page)

I
N THE MIDST OF ONE OF HER LONG, FREQUENT BATHS,
Diella frowned at her slightly rounded stomach. In the body which had been hers many years ago, a body which was now dust, she had never conceived a child. This body, however, was apparently more fertile and had caught some man's seed. She was not overly concerned, as there were many ways to rid oneself of an unwanted child. Diella gave a passing thought as to whom the child might belong to, and then dismissed the query as unimportant. She would not be saddled with any man's child!

Perhaps the pregnancy was the reason for her recent pallor and weight loss. Some women plumped up immediately when they caught a seed, but not this body. She could see the bones in her wrists and her legs were too thin, and it took more cosmetics every day to make her look beautiful. She would have suspected the truth earlier but she'd continued to bleed, though irregularly and very lightly.

A trip to Level Seven would cure all her ills.

Much had changed in the years that had passed since she'd been empress, but the location of the palace witches had not. The emperor's quarters were no longer at the top of the palace, on Level One, but farther down. The lift which had once carried those of importance up and down was no longer operational, so of course, the emperor had moved his offices and personal quarters. There was no collection of concubines on Level Three, though the baths there were kept open. Some days she made use of those baths, but on other days—like today—she preferred a small tub in the privacy of her room. She was so tired that making the trip to Level Three seemed too much a chore.

That was the child's fault, she decided, and would soon be an unpleasant memory and nothing more.

Diella left the tub and dried herself with a soft towel, noting the changes in her body as she took care of that simple task. She was downright bony, even though she'd been eating very well since Ciro had taken the palace. Her color was not good at all. There was a touch of yellow under the skin, and this young flesh she had stolen was actually beginning to wrinkle. That was entirely unacceptable.

Leaving her hair damp, she donned a crimson robe that fell too loosely on her body and exited her chambers. This was not a task she could trust to anyone else, even though she did not relish the idea of climbing two flights of stairs to reach Level Seven.

Diella did not rush, but walked slowly and deliberately up the stone staircase. She met no one. Since Ciro had taken over the palace, many of the sentinels had either deserted or been executed. Soldiers, Ciro's Own, took their places in short order, but those soulless soldiers had a tendency to remain near to the man they worshipped.

A few sentinels, those who were touched by the demon or simply craved what Ciro promised, had remained. They were her favorites, as they still possessed a bit of themselves and had not given their souls over to the demon. They were healthier, prettier, and they gifted her with more of their attention—which was, after all, what she needed most.

Stop.

Diella was surprised by the voice of the demon, as he rarely spoke to her anymore. She had served her purpose in leading Ariana and her army to Ciro, and a lavish life in the palace was her reward.

“I want no man's child,” she said aloud.

You carry no
man's
child.

Diella stopped climbing and caught her breath. “It isn't possible that the child is yours. You're…you're…” In another place, unable to touch her, not of this life.

Mine, yours, Ciro's, Lilia's.

Diella sat. Her legs were about to give out on her, in any case. She did not mind at all doing the demon's work in exchange for this new and healthy—well, once healthy—body. But to carry its child? To give birth to a baby who would be both human and demon?

“I don't want it,” she whispered.

What you want has never mattered. What you want doesn't matter now. You will carry and birth this child, even if I have to order Ciro to put you in Level Thirteen for the next five months. Is that what you wish for, Diella, do you wish to go home to that dark hole beneath the palace?

She shuddered. Nothing was worse than the emptiness that was Level Thirteen. Nothing.

“I won't raise this child,” Diella said as she descended the stairs, Level Seven forgotten. The Isen Demon would never allow her to rid herself of the life inside her. Still, she would not sacrifice her entire new life for a child. “Once it's out of my body, someone else will have to care for it.”

That is my plan, Diella. All you are asked to do is nourish and birth my daughter, Ksana.

“Pretty name,” Diella said. “Isn't that a flower?”

A poisonous flower, more beautiful than any other and deadly to the touch.

Diella placed a hand over her slightly rounded stomach. If the child was actually poison to the touch, how would she survive the months to come?

I will protect you. All you need do is nourish Ksana and deliver her into this world. When that is done, your obligation to me is also done. Others will be waiting to take her from you, to raise and educate her.

As much as she hated the idea of being pregnant for the next five months, Diella was pleased to know that she'd be released from her allegiance to the Isen Demon. It was a fair enough trade, she supposed.

 

R
AYNE
'
S EYES WERE WIDE AS THEY RODE INTO THE TOWN.
It was her first foray into such civilization. The four men who served as her escort surrounded her, Lyr in front, Segyn behind, Tiller to her right, Swaine to her left. They kept a sharp eye on all those who were in the streets and on the shaded walkways before shops and businesses.

The soldiers who escorted her were an awesome sight, and that was undeniable. What must these four men look like to the farmers and shopkeepers of this village? The men shaved quickly every three or four days, but they were all due for another and looked rather rough at the moment. They were well armed and carried their weapons with the ease of warriors. They were straight of spine and hard of eye, and showed no softness, no kindness, in their exterior presentation.

Perhaps the Circle Warriors were as foreign to the villagers as this village was to Rayne.

The buildings which lined the street were not what she would call attractive, but they were sturdy and well kept. The people were much the same. They looked to be hardworking people, many of them a bit the worse for wear at the end of a long day. She hadn't seen her face in a mirror in a long while. After these days of travel, she imagined that she herself appeared to be a bit worse for wear.

One building was very noisy, and beyond opened doors she saw many men and a few brightly dressed women who seemed to be having quite a lot of fun. They laughed and drank, and there was loud, crude music and boisterous dancing that caused the women's colorful skirts to swirl and flip.

She had never danced. Reading about it was not the same as witnessing the vigorous activity. The dancers, so briefly glimpsed, seemed gloriously happy.

Two brightly dressed women who wore an excess of cosmetics stepped from the building and toward the party which moved slowly down the street. “Would you care for some company, gentlemen?” one of them asked. Then they both smiled widely and the other bright woman said, “We'll be right here all night.”

Tiller looked at the ladies and his eyes sparkled. Swaine smiled and blushed. The pale complexion which suited his wiry red hair reddened easily, she had found. Lyr and Segyn ignored the women. Neither of them blushed.

Though she did glance at the women, Rayne made a point not to look too hard. Innocent as she might be, she knew what they were offering. If they weren't moving straight through this village, would any of the men take the bright women up on their offers?

Of course they would.

Lyr had said they'd buy supplies, but Rayne was certain that when that was done, they'd continue on for a while longer. It was not yet dark, even though the sky was gray and night would soon be here. Lately they had been traveling well into the night, and she suspected tonight would be no exception.

But instead of taking them to a shop which would supply what they needed, Lyr led the party to a large building at the end of the street. Three stories high, it was almost as large as the home where Rayne had been born and raised, though it was not nearly as nice. Like the other buildings in town, it was made of wood and was plain in design, though there were pretty curtains in all the windows. Someone had expended some effort to make the place hospitable.

Lyr looked past Rayne to his most senior officer. “Obtain two adjoining rooms. If such rooms are not available, we will continue on.”

“We're stopping for the night?” Segyn asked as he dismounted. “We get to sleep in a real bed?”

“Only if they have adjoining rooms,” Lyr responded, and then he glanced at Rayne. “It wouldn't be wise to be separated. We'll sleep in shifts and there will be no drinking or whoring.”

The two younger men looked disappointed, and Rayne suspected they were not saddened because they could not
drink
.

Segyn returned moments later, nodding his head to let Lyr know that the rooms had been obtained. The men all dismounted, and even though they could not have their fun, they were glad of the chance to sleep indoors on a soft mattress. The food would likely be significantly better than the dried meat and hard biscuits which had become their daily fare.

Lyr assisted Rayne from her saddle and handed the horses over to Swaine for tending. “You go nowhere without an escort,” he said in a lowered voice as he led her into the inn. “One of us will keep watch on your door all night, so you need not be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid,” she said, and it was true. As long as Lyr was with her, she had nothing to fear. Who could get past him? No one. He would not allow anyone to harm her.

He collected keys and directions to the second-story rooms from the innkeeper, a stout older woman who was pleased to have the guests. Perhaps this village was not a popular place for travelers to stop. In any case, she seemed almost giddy as she announced that she'd serve supper in three-quarters of an hour.

Lyr took Rayne's elbow as he guided her up the stairs to the second floor. She enjoyed the possessive sensation of his hand on her arm, the strength that radiated from him to her in a way that was somehow very personal. The touch elicited an unexpected tingle that crept up her arm and warmed her entire body.

They were alone, the innkeeper left behind and the men taking care of other chores, so she felt free to ask him a question which might otherwise be embarrassing.

“Those brightly dressed and painted women we saw on the street, are they available for the purposes of sexual relations?”

Lyr's hand instantly grew hot, and she was certain she felt a twitch. “You need not worry about such women. They will not come here. They will not bother you.”

“I'm not bothered by them, just curious.”

“Such curiosity is unnecessary.”

They reached a door, and Lyr chose the correct key. Rayne put a hand on his arm to stop him from opening the door. “To give oneself so freely, without love or commitment, do you think it a great sin?”

Lyr's narrowed eyes met hers. She had never felt that gaze so intently. “You're not thinking of joining them in order to tarnish your soul, are you?”

“Of course not,” she said primly. “As I said, I'm simply curious.”

“Women and curiosity are a dangerous mix,” he mumbled, and then he crossed his arms over his chest. “If you must know, such women do not
give
anything. They sell.”

“They sell sex?”

“Yes,” Lyr said through gritted teeth.

“Why? If they enjoy sex so much, as they certainly seemed to do when they issued their invitation, then why do they not simply get married?”

She could see the coiled tension in Lyr's neck and shoulders, in the cut of his fine jaw and the flaring of his nose. “When we reach our destination, you can ask one of my cousins. This sort of questioning is best asked of a woman.”

“But I wish to ask
you
.”

“What have I done to invite this regrettable circumstance?”

Life was short, achingly so. She did not know what tomorrow would bring, so why was it necessary to live by strict rules which might not serve her at all well? “It occurs to me that if I am not a virgin, Ciro might not want me. Perhaps that is part of the…” She stopped, as Lyr's face was turning an odd shade of purple. “Are you all right?”

“Not at all.”

“Are you sick?”

“No.” The shade of purple seemed to lessen slightly.

“Good. Jiri mentioned that Ciro wished me to be pure in all ways. Soul, heart, and body. In any case, it has occurred to me that I can't be considered entirely pure if I've had sex with another man. I don't know with any certainty, but Jiri was quite adamant about keeping the other soldiers away from me. I know I take the risk of finding myself with a child and no husband, but wouldn't that be better than the alternative? In fact, that might be best. If I'm carrying another man's child, I can't carry Ciro's. Demon or no, I can only carry one child at a time.”