THE SHADOWLORD (15 page)

Unclenching her hands to throw out a dismissive gesture, the woman hissed her answer like a striking viper. "In a trash heap, a dung hill, who knows? From wherever vile brattlings thrust from unclean heathen bellies come."

Gritting her teeth, Aradia began lathering her arms. "You knew he was evil even at birth? You are an astute woman."

"Meridia knew him for what he was the moment she laid eyes on him!"

"Meridia? That is you?"

"I am Sofia, the wife of the Magistrate."

Aradia winced. The mother of the executed man. No wonder she bore Jaelan such loathing. "Then who is Meridia?"

"Wife of Samiel Ben-Ashaman, my youngest sister."

Pausing in mid-scrub, Aradia lifted her head. "Lord Jaelan is your nephew?"

"That scum is no kin to me or mine!" Sofia shouted, her eyes glaring daggers. "Not even the demons of the Abyss would claim such evil!"

Before Aradia could say anything else, the door opened behind her. Knowing no one else would dare enter without knocking, Aradia did not need to turn to know her husband had entered. The look of fury on Sofia's red face would have been proof of his presence without the filthy word she muttered under her breath.

Jaelan's gaze settled on Sofia. "I have long thought Lord Gehenna had Zaitan snip the wrong tongue that day. Your husband would have known more peace and the village less gossip if the tongs had been plied to you instead of Naseema."

"May the Prophet send a hoard of locusts to strip the flesh from your bones, you murderous beast," Sofia flung at him.

Leaning casually against the doorjamb, Jaelan crossed his arms. No expression marred his handsome face, but he shot her a steady beam of anger with his eyes. "I am not averse to killing women, should the need arise, Sofia. Best you bear that in mind before you say anything else."

Sofia walked toward him, her back ramrod straight. "I am not afraid of you, Lord Jaelan," she said, the title soundly like a curse.

"You should be. I still bear the scars you left on my hide when I was a boy, and I would not mind repaying you in kind, old woman."

Another vile curse slithered from Sofia's mouth as she started to push him out of her way. Aradia sucked in a harsh breath when the Shadowlord grabbed the woman by the wrists and shoved her against the door.

"Keep out of my way while I'm here. Leave my lady alone and make no mistake about it. I would just as soon see you sizzling on your pyre as look at your butt-ugly face."

Sofia spit in his face.

Aradia shoved out of the tub, unmindful of her nudity. Dripping water, her long hair plastered to her bare back, she rushed to the door just as Jaelan released Sofia's wrists and circled her neck with his hands.

"No!" Aradia shouted, trying to pull him off the woman. His forearms felt like steel. Sofia's face turned a deeply infused red. "Jaelan, don't!"

With spittle running down his cheek, Jaelan knew a moment of fury unlike anything he had ever experienced. That she would dare spit on him was bad enough, but that she had done so in the presence of his wife unleashed the pitiless fiend lurking inside him. He was intent on squeezing the life from Sofia Kahteranani, a woman he had feared and hated his entire life.

"Please, don't do this!" Aradia begged, dragging on his arm. "She's not worth it! Don't let her win!"

Aradia's words fell like iced water over the fire pit that bubbled and steamed within Jaelan's hate-fed mind. The words doused the flames of fury, stilled the churning lava, dissipated the toxic vapors. Her hand on his arm, her touch, drew away the ferocious heat that encased him. He dropped his hands from the woman's neck, staggering away from her.

Sofia coughed and gagged, bending over in agony, sucking ragged gulps of air into her depleted lungs. "B...bastard," she croaked, rubbing her throat.

"Get out before I strangle you myself!" Aradia said, dragging Sofia to the door.

"Evil," Sofia whispered. "Evil as the day is long!"

"You haven't seen evil yet." Aradia jerked open the door and shoved the woman into the hall. "Stay away from him!"

Sofia straightened, and her wrinkled lips peeled back from yellowed, crooked teeth. She hissed like a cornered viper before turning and stumbling down the corridor.

Aradia slammed the door as hard as she could. Her breath coming fast and shallow, she turned to her husband. She found him leaning against the wall, eyes closed, his head thrown back, a vein throbbing dangerously in the exposed column of his throat.

"Let it go, warrior," she said.

Jaelan opened his eyes and lowered his head. His face was stone-cold hard, his gaze filled with an emotion Aradia could not read. When she started toward him, he put up a hand to stay her. Silently, he shook his head and pushed away from the wall. Before she could stop him, he opened the door and thundered out, his heavy footsteps echoing back to her.

Remembering her nakedness, Aradia reached for a towel. After dragging the soft cotton around her, she tucked the end between her breasts and shut the door. A crack of lightning spooked her. She jumped, stumbling into the bedside table to rattle a pitcher of water.

"I hate bad weather," she said aloud. "I hate all this rain!"

As though the weather gods had heard her, rain lashed the windows with such force, Aradia thought the glass would break. She started to latch the inside shutters over the window when something caught her eye. After wiping fog from the glass, she saw Jaelan standing in the center of the courtyard, the deluge buffeting him.

"What are you doing?" she whispered. Even as the words left her, lightning flared viciously, illuminating her husband in a harsh white glare. Terrified he would be hit, she rapped on the window, trying to gain his attention. He seemed not to notice. She rapped again, rapidly and with more force, but either he couldn't hear her or simply chose to ignore the summons. The latter proved true, she realized, when he turned his head, looked at her, then walked toward a tall banyan tree at the far corner of the courtyard.

"For the love of Alluvia!" she said exasperated.

He sat beneath the tree, drew up his legs and encircled them with his arms, before lowering his head to his knees. Aradia again cleared the fog from the window. A savage curse issued from her mouth as she turned to dress.

A few minutes later, Aradia entered the common room and saw Jahna Kahteranani watching the Shadowlord. When she headed for the door, his soft voice stopped her.

"He will not appreciate you intruding, Milady."

"You expect me to leave him out in that tempest?"

He shrugged. "He is where he wants to be, Milady. This is not uncommon for him."

"It's dangerous!"

"Aye, and he knows it. Perhaps the danger he courts makes him feel more alive." He shrugged again. "Who knows with those of his kind?"

"His
kind
," Aradia repeated, the words bitter. "What exactly is his kind, Grandfather?"

"He is not like you or I, Milady. We knew him to be different from the moment he came to our little village. Samiel ruefully regrets the day he brought him here. Often are the times Samiel will sit at the fire pit, deep in his cups, and ask the Prophet for forgiveness for having done so."

"Jaelan's father is alive? Does he live nearby?"

"In that house," Jahna said, pointing to a buff-colored building to the East of the banyan tree.

Glancing at the house, Aradia saw a shadow at the window. "Is that Samiel?"

"More than likely."

"And he wouldn't think to call his son in out of the rain?"

"The Shadowlord is
not
his son. He is merely the man who raised him."

"What a childhood he must have had with you people."

Jahna's lined face bore no expression, but his rheumy eyes grew stern. "Do not condemn the people of Uadjit for hating him. They have had good reason since he came of age."

"What do you mean?"

"He was ten and three winters, he was," Jahna muttered. "Thirteen's always been an unlucky number, and for us, it was an omen straight from hell!"

"What exactly did a thirteen-year-old do to the people of Uadjit for them to feel as they do, Grandfather?"

"He brought the wrath of the Domination down upon this village. A fourth of our men-folk were taken and cast into the dungeons at Abbadon. I have not seen three of my sons since that day, and never expect to see them this side of Paradise! A fourth of our young women were sent to the convent. One of those was my firstborn granddaughter. We were told she died in childbirth, struggling to bear the offspring of a Viragonian soldier who'd raped her!"

"I'm sorry for what happened, but how could he have been responsible--"

"Had it not been for Jaelan, Uadjit would have never garnered the notice of the Brotherhood."

"I don't see what--"

"Ask him why death rides at his side and he'll tell you!" The man uncrossed his arms and stalked off, his stooped shoulders leading the way. He did not look back at his guest, leaving her to stand at the window and watch the violent summer storm drench her husband.

Aradia tore her gaze from Jaelan and looked at the house where he had grown up. Though she couldn't make out the figure at the window, she had the feeling Samiel Ben-Ashaman had turned his attention to her. She felt a hatred directed her way and lifted her chin. A stranger's view of her carried no more weight than a single drop of the rain pounding the inn. Switching her attention to Jaelan, she wondered if she should go to him.

At that moment, Jaelan looked straight at her. He shook his head. She understood his silent command to be left alone, and obeyed, going back to her room.

Jaelan caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He swiveled his gaze to the back door of his adopted father's house. There, framed in the doorway, stood the man, huddled in the warmth of an ancient wool shawl.

"What is her name?" Samiel called.

"Aradia," Jaelan answered.

"Oceanian?"

"Amazeen."

Samiel's low whistle gave evidence of his surprise. With a shrug, he moved back into the house and shut the door.

Dragging in a long, tired breath, Jaelan closed his eyes and let the rain wash over him. He shivered occasionally, but the feel of the water, the cleansing of it, was something he sorely needed. As much as he longed to be in the warm confines of the inn, in the presence of his new wife, he remained on the ground, the storm winds buffeting him.

Aradia heard the door open. She opened her eyes and, in the darkness, stared at the opposite wall. Although the storm still raged, her husband had finally returned to her. She smelled the damp clothing and listened as he stripped, being careful to lay aside the items so as to make as little noise as possible. He was being considerate, protective of her slumber, she thought, but at the same time, not wanting her to intrude on his mood. When the bed dipped, Aradia knew a moment of tension. It had been years since she'd shared a bed with a man and all that it implied.

"Go back to sleep, wench," he whispered, pulling the covers over himself.

"Are you all right?"

He turned to his side. "Aye...go to sleep."

Her thoughts jumped to the villagers, her worry of them harming Jaelan. She started to get up to secure the door latch, but he stopped her.

"They're locked safely in their own worlds, wench. They'll not dare to intrude into mine."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow."

"But what if--"

"Go to sleep, Aradia," he said firmly, flouncing the covers. "We are in no danger here."

She waited until he grew still again. "If you want to talk, I'll be happy to listen."

He remained silent for so long, she first thought he purposely ignored her. But at last he sighed. "Tomorrow...tomorrow, we'll talk..."

A part of her wanted to slip her arms around him. For the first time in many years, she felt a mothering instinct, but forced herself not to act on it. Something told her he would not appreciate her coddling him, so she remained still. After a while, she closed her eyes and slept, though threatening images that chased her from one place to another across the desert filled her dreams.

In his dream, Jaelan meandered through a garden laden with summer flowers, the early morning sun sparkling on the knee-high stalks. Fleecy white clouds peppered the heavens, and the soft scent of gardenia mixed with the musky odor of fertile soil. Overhead, sparrows soared on the thermals, while crickets rubbed their hind legs together in search of a mate.

Aradia strolled ahead of him, her gown of gossamer silk billowing in the breeze. In her hand she twirled a scarlet rose, which she occasionally brought to her face to inhale its sweet perfume. Often, she looked over her shoulder, making sure he followed, and her smile of promise turned his manhood to stone. In the distance, the rumble of waves against an unseen shore beckoned. They moved toward this sound as the aroma of the sea washed over them on the gentle wind.

"There is a grotto," she said. "It's beyond the sea gate."

A wrought iron gate barred their path. Beside it, a rose bush filled with hundreds of buds sent up an intoxicating smell. Aradia pluck a rose as Jaelan pushed open the tall gate.

Steep stairs led down to a secluded beach, and they walked hand in hand, her leading him. Gulls joined the sparrows in sailing across the firmament. Their raucous cries seemed merry as they swooped low over incoming waves.

The dream shifted, and he and Aradia were sitting beside an underground lake, staring in amazement at the stalactites and stalagmites that rimmed the milky-green water. The movement of waves lapping at the lake's edge calmed and soothed the nerves.

She brought his hand to her breast, pressing his palm to her flesh, suddenly bare of fabric and restraint. "Feel my heart beating for you, warrior," she said and circled her nipple with his fingertips.

His clothes magically disappeared, and he was stretched out atop her, his lower body nestled in the spread V of her silken thighs. Moving his hands at will over her creamy flesh, he felt the powerful stirrings of passion grip him.