A Thread in the Tangle (65 page)

“Our plans have changed.
 
We must strike before he can see us coming, and I believe the ruined nymph will serve our purposes nicely.”

Forty-one

I
SIILDE
STARED
NUMBLY
into the fire.
 
The dream had faded into reality, colliding into the harsh stone like a bird plummeting from the sky; broken and battered.
 
Her cheek rested on the pristine pelt, however, she could not feel its softness—only His hands slithering along her flesh.
 
Stievin called for her like a street crier, wailing his madness between her ears, until she was empty of everything save his rage and lust.

Flames seared her eyes, forcing her to blink, and the split second of darkness sparked memory: the relentless drip of water on the dingy stone, the sour scent of Him, and the shiver of steel, all crashing behind a single flutter of an eyelid.

Come back to me,
His voice crawled beneath her skin like an unwelcome parasite.
 
You belong to me.
 
You are mine.

Another blink and pain blossomed with the echo of cracking bone; slick, warm fluid, and an unyielding force pushing inside of her, splitting her open.
 
It had been an invasion far worse than mere eyes.
 
She wished she could leave her body, because it no longer felt her own.

Why did you resist me?
 
You tempted me; you wanted me.

“Have some food, Sprite.”
 
The deep rumble beside her ear was faint, washed out by the stifling presence of her owner.

Tell them you wanted me.
 
Come to me so I may see you.
 
Take me down from here.

The smell of bread wafted in front of her nose, bile rose in her throat, and a distant cough shook her bones.
 
Oenghus wiped the spittle from her chin, brushing back the hair from her face.
 
A chasm of filth separated her from the comforting touch of her guardian.

The nymph was being relentlessly dragged into darkness by a hopeless weight around her throat.
 
Why didn’t someone remove the filthy collar?
 
Isiilde pried at the invasive Bond with her fingernails, but Oenghus stopped her, taking her hands in his own.

“No, Sprite, you’re only hurting yourself.”
 
His touch brought no more relief than the sight of a distant shore fading from view.
 
She was adrift in a cold sea; full of a cruel, demanding brute.

“He wants to see me,” she whispered.
 
“Why won’t He get out of me?”
 
Her voice was as hollow as a forgotten tomb.

Because I own you.

“He holds your Bond, Sprite.
 
That’s why a nymph is so sought after.
 
He holds your spirit and it’s like—it’s like holding the Gift inside of you.
 
It’s not supposed to be like this.
 
A nymph’s Bond was never meant to be taken by force.”

There was pain in the strong voice.
 
She looked at Oenghus, wondering if he was wounded, but he appeared as he always did save his eyes, which were shimmering with unshed tears.

Moving was like fighting through a deep snow drift, expending a tremendous amount of energy for little gain, but she managed it, lifting her head up enough to rest it on his lap, offering her protector the only comfort she could give.

“How do I get Him out?
 
I can’t stand Him.”

You can’t stand me?
 
You stupid, worthless whore, look what you did to me—
on and on he howled, screaming at her to be silent, to come to him, full of demands that threatened to wash what remained of her sanity away.

Isiilde viciously bit her bottom lip, and blood pooled in her mouth.
 
The sickly warmth distracted her from Stievin’s ranting insults long enough to focus on Oenghus’ reply.

“There’s two ways,” Oenghus said, wrapping his hand protectively around her neck.
 
“I will either kill him and we’ll leave this place.”
 
The nymph squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering as an onslaught of protests reverberated inside her skull.

“You can’t kill him, please, you can’t!” Isiilde gasped, struggling for breath as the mark around her throat tightened possessively.
 
Dim words of comfort drifted to her ear, but Oenghus’ voice was drowned out by a cacophony of threats.

I will drag you into the dark with me!

When he saw her distress, Oenghus cursed under his breath, searching the room until he caught sight of a vial sitting on a shelf, which was engraved with his crest: a rooster.
 
Oenghus sniffed warily at the contents.
 
Once he was satisfied that it wouldn’t kill his daughter, he pressed it to her lips.

“Drink this.
 
It’ll help.”
 
Or so he hoped.

Isiilde swallowed the potion in one gulp.
 
Oenghus thought she might be sick, but she kept the substance down, shivering as it coursed through her veins.
 
When the affects had settled, her heart slowed, and she pushed Stievin’s presence to the side, enough to recognize a thought as her own.

With clarity, came the memory of the night before, crashing over her like a wave, sharp and vivid as when it occurred.
 
Isiilde curled up into a ball, hugging her legs to her chest.
 
Nothing helped—He was still inside of her.

“What’s the other choice?”

“The Emperor’s champion is on his way to the Isle.
 
He’ll duel Stievin and then take you to Kambe by right of Law, but if you bond with another man—one of your choosing—then he will fight the champion.
 
If this man wins, then you will stay with your new Bonded.
 
Kambe will have no further claim to you.”

The nymph was silent for a long time, trying to grasp this new thought with a mind in tatters.

“Another man will take me?”
 
The words left a foul taste in her mouth.
 
Despite her thick leggings and warm tunic, she felt exposed.

“Yes,” Oenghus replied.
 
“Short of killing Stievin, which I will gladly do, you can’t get your Bond back, Isiilde.
 
A man will always hold it from here on out.”
 
His fists clenched and arms wider than her waist flexed with frustration.
 
“At least it will be a man you choose.
 
Maybe his presence won’t be so revolting.”

Wouldn’t it be the same, or could another be worse than Stievin?

You enjoyed it.
 
Every moment was unimaginable bliss.
 
Isiilde smothered the voice, shoving him to the back of her mind.

“You could go after that young swordsmith Coyle.
 
Unfortunately, I don’t think he’d stand a chance against the Hound.
 
And that’s true with most men.”

She had liked looking at the chiseled male, but didn’t think she’d want him to hold her Bond—to be inside of her like this.

“I can choose any man?”

“As long as he’ll have you.
 
Whatever you decide, it’ll have to be before morning.”

Forty-two

“A
RCHLORD
.”
 
S
ILENCE
ANSWERED
Isek Beirnuckle.
 
He shifted impatiently, eyeing the rangy Seer who was currently staring out a narrow window with the look of a man who was lost in the Great Expanse.

“Marsais!” Isek hissed, chucking a copper piece at the back of his snowy head.

The coin fell to the floor, and finally, Marsais shivered, gazing down at the pathetic little disc of metal laying at his feet.
 
“Hmm?”

“You know one of these days someone is going to stick a dagger in your back.
 
A stone giant could sneak up on you.”

“Well, I sincerely doubt it could fit in my bedchamber,” Marsais mused.
 
“More news?”

“Caitlyn Whitehand has been demanding to see Isiilde.
 
I’m not sure Kambe believes she was ravaged.
 
They’re convinced Oenghus didn’t rein her in tight enough.”
 
Isek waited, but Marsais made no comment about the Emperor’s healer, so he continued, “High Inquisitor Multist and the new Knight Captain, Acacia Mael, have come to investigate.
 
Where a nymph is involved, the Blessed Order is not far behind.
 
They have requested an audience with you, but wish to inspect her first.”

“Since they have requested an audience, then I deny them one, and they can wish all they like, but I refuse to subject Isiilde to an interrogation,” Marsais said, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Marsais, you don’t want to get on their bad side, especially now.”
 
Narrow shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Fine, a brief audience.”

“I also have a list of names for Isiilde to go over.”
 
Isek produced a scroll.

“Wonderful,” Marsais remarked, dryly.

“There’s a fair amount of warriors on here, but I’m not sure I’d wager on any of them considering who they’re up against.
 
Ielequithe, Oenghus, and N’Jalss stand the best chance, but two of them are out of the question, and I think Isiilde would be better off with Stievin over N’Jalss.
 
You want me to add your name to the list?”