Cethe (24 page)

“Withwil ow?” echoed Michael and his grandfather in unison.

“Aye. It seems we have a possible al y in the Bishop there. Severyn wants you to feel him out.”

“Gabriel Storm?” The duke looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard he’s a fair man and the h’nara of the parish speak wel of him and

their lord. Why does Severyn think he might be an al y?”

Forry, between mouthfuls of cake, recounted the particulars of a meeting between Severyn and Jason Thornwald. When he’d

finished, the duke was grim.

“That would explain the garrison at Creighton,” he said. “This is disquieting news, indeed.”

“Why send me?” Michael asked. “I should think one of you might be more acceptable.”

“Severyn seems to think if Storm objects to speaking with you, it wil tel him al he needs to know about the bishop.” Forry

shrugged. “He won’t trust anyone who looks down on you for being h’nara, I suppose. He also said you had unique abilities to see

the truth behind the lies. I assume he refers to your, er, witchly talents.”

Michael nodded. “I’l go, of course,” he said, careful y not looking at his grandfather. “What of you?”

“I’m overdue at Forrest Glen. The process of winnowing my guard for men trustworthy enough to send to Shia is going to take

some little time, I’m afraid.”

“You’l stay the night?” asked the duke.

“I wouldn’t say no,” admitted Forry. “I’ve not had much sleep these past five days. Sev wanted to get you the information as

quickly as possible.”

“I’l talk to Annie,” said Michael, rising. “She’l see you comfortably tucked up. Grandfather? If you’l excuse us?”

The duke nodded, but his gaze was far away. Together, Forry and Michael left Lord Damon’s rooms.

“Are you al right?” Forry asked as they made their way through the house to the main wing. “You look worse than I do.”

“Too much witchery,” replied Michael and wondered what Forry would do if he knew the truth. “A good night’s sleep and a nap

in the coach tomorrow wil see me right as rain.”

“Good. If Storm is genuine, it could be of enormous help to have a man on the Council.”

“What about Arami? Do you think he’l approve the Council’s request to move more troops into the West?”

“Eventual y. Sev has managed to delay the inevitable by buying his brother off. Arami agreed to send their Petition to

Tantagrel instead of acting upon it himself. It wil require that we step up our plans, however. Even the prince can’t afford to keep

bribing His Majesty indefinitely.”

Stefn listened with a wooden expression while Marin outlined the change of plans. He would not be going home, after al .

Instead, as soon as Lord Michael was up and about, they were off to the city of Withwil ow. It was profoundly irritating that he should

secretly find the news terribly exciting. Of al cities in Tanyrin, Withwil ow was the one he had always most wanted to visit.

Withwil ow was home to the most prestigious of Tanyrian col eges, the St. Aramis Academy, with its dozens of libraries and

lecture hal s, great museums and shrines. It might not be the seat of ecclesiastical power in Tanyrin anymore, but it was the

kingdom’s intel ectual soul. So many of the books in Shia’s musty library had been written by men educated there, so many of their

magnificent il ustrations and colored plates had been produced by Withwil ow’s Academy-trained artists.

Sharp rapping on the bedroom door sent Marin grumbling to open it. “I told the footman a half-hour, damn it, not a few… ” He

broke off. It was no footman outside, but a young, very pretty girl who peered curiously into the room. She looked familiar and Stefn,

startled, racked his brains for the reason why.

“Mick? Are you in here? I know I’m not supposed to be…” A pair of large blue eyes lit on Stefn and grew round as saucers.

“Ohhh!”

Marin said something incoherent and tried to hustle her out. The girl resisted, digging in her heels and slapping at Marin’s

hand when he would forcibly remove her.

“Whatever you or Michael say, I am the lady of the house,” she declared. “I have my duty as hostess.” Her frosty glare pinned

poor Marin to the spot. Then she turned to Stefn, her smile warming, becoming shy. “My apologies again, Lord Eldering, but I must

inquire about your comfort. Have you sufficient firewood? Would you like me to have some refreshments brought up?”

Lord Michael’s sister! Stefn nodded, tongue-tied.

She blushed prettily, her gaze going to the book he held. “We have some periodicals downstairs, if you’d like,” she said.

“They’re almost recent. Chris brought them back from Waylerton.”

“Miss!” Marin had been pushed beyond endurance. “I wil be forced to fetch Lord Michael!”

“This wil do, Miss, but I thank you for your consideration,” Stefn managed.

“Wel , if you’re sure.” She regarded him with narrowed eyes. Then, “Oh, stop it, Marin. I’m going!”

The big servant managed to get her out the door and this time, took care to lock it after her.

“That was Lord Michael’s sister, wasn’t it?”

Marin sighed. “Yes, my lord. She’s a bit of a handful at times.”

“Isn’t she old enough to be at Court?”

“Yes, and she has the right, of course,” replied Marin, “but it’s been awhile since the Arranzes have been welcomed in

Lothmont. These days, it seems even the Covenant of St. Aramis cannot overcome the stigma of their naran blood.”

“She doesn’t look h’naran.”

“Her mother was a pureblooded human, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone would know the truth. I don’t look h’naran, either, but

my vil age drove me out when my father died. The nara have been gone for hundreds of years, but even so, the fear and hatred

runs deep.”

“The nara stole our land and enslaved us,” retorted Stefn. “Why wouldn’t we humans fear their descendants?”

“Because we lived peaceful y among humans since the end of the war, my lord. There was even a time when the Arranz family

was received at Court.”

“And what of the Corlium Rebel ion?”

Marin’s face darkened. “We h’nara cal it the Corlium Massacre, my lord. The Church used that lie to begin its assault on us.

The Hunters attacked Corlium, not the other way around!”

“‘Tis not what history claims!”

Sighing, Marin shook his head and left the room soon after. Stefn heard the lock fal into place and stalked angrily to the

windows. The sea stretched away below him, sunlight sparkling on the waves.

Everyone knew the truth about Corlium! There were vivid accounts of it in Shia’s library. One of Tanyrin’s most respected

historians, Frederick Craig, devoted a whole chapter to the atrocity in his Modern History of Tanyrin. It was absurd that Marin should

claim it was the h’nara who had been wronged!

And now they had resurrected the naragi! How could anyone reach any other conclusion but that the h’nara sought revenge

and to once more grind humanity under their heel! Was he not living proof of it? Had he not been ruthlessly enslaved, cruel y used?

Except, when the duke had abducted him, why had Lord Michael fought his way to Stefn’s side? Stefn remembered the sight

of him, hair tousled, eyes baleful as ghost-fire. He remembered how cold Lord Michael’s hands had been when he snatched Stefn to

safety.

He was afraid for me!

Stefn’s thoughts stumbled to a halt. “Ridiculous!” he whispered into the room’s silence. “Absolutely absurd!!”

But, perversely, Stefn remembered the flood of healing warmth; how Michael’s arms had come around him with desperate

care.

He was nothing more than an object, a means to an evil end, Stefn told himself furiously. Michael Arranz didn’t care about him,

he cared only that he had a cethe to rape whenever he needed to refresh his vile power.

And yet, although Arranz had obviously exhausted himself using the naran high sorcery, he’d not laid a hand on Stefn since.

Everything Stefn had read about the unfortunate sathra painted a grim picture of pain and humiliation, of the most abject and

shameful servitude. The wretches had often been bound with spel s to keep them docile, robbing them of wil and a rightful desire for

freedom and justice.

And yet….

Stefn swore, turning away from the window. Was it sorcery that made his body tingle at thoughts of Michael’s touch? Was it

foul naran magic heating his dreams since he had returned to Blackmarsh, fil ing them with wild, erotic images? Unbound by his

waking sensibilities, they ran riot. In them, he became a wild, wanton creature, begging for the caresses of faceless men who turned

into Michael just before he awoke, gasping and painful y aroused.

It’s not real! It’s not me that wants him! It’s this fiendish thing around my neck!

Determined to banish the unruly images, Stefn returned to his chair and his book, but once summoned, those thoughts proved

unexpectedly hard to resist. Time and again, the words on the pages before him blurred. He thought of the night at the inn when,

bound hand and foot, Michael had coaxed pleasure from his body he’d never imagined possible. Remembering the slide of

Michael’s hand along his thigh, the touch of his lips, made Stefn squirm. And the night they had arrived at Blackmarsh, his body

impaled on Michael’s erection, how quickly he’d abandoned any thought of resisting.

“Damn you!” he shouted, jumping to his feet and hurling the book across the room. Against his wil , his hand crept down below

his bel y where his sex burgeoned, pushing against his breeches. “Damn you!” he whispered, frantical y opening them and seizing

his cock. “Damn you! Damn you to hel , Michael Arranz!”

An insistent banging on his door woke Michael from heavy sleep. It took a moment to gather his wits. His head ached dul y

and, for as deep as his sleep had been, weariness weighted his limbs. The banging continued, relentless.

“What?” he barked hoarsely.

“My lord!” Marin appeared in the doorway. There were others in the dimly lit hal way behind him. What the hel time was it?

Michael lit his beside candle. The clock told him it was wel past midnight.

“It’s Lord Eldering,” Marin said in a low, anxious voice. “Please come at once!”

Michael’s protest died, unspoken, at the worry in Marin’s voice. Muttering dire threats if this was not deadly serious, Michael

stumbled to his feet. Fumbling on his robe, he went directly to Stefn’s room. Several wide-eyed servants lingered nearby, scattering

at Michael’s appearance. Marin wordlessly handed over the key. Unlocking it, Michael went in.

The earl sat hunched over on the edge of his bed, wrapped in his blanket, but otherwise stark naked, as far as Michael could

tel . His cheeks were flushed. His dark eyes were fil ed with pain and fury. Under the blanket, his legs were spread wide apart.

“What the hel do you want?” Michael snapped.

“Close the door!”

Michael slammed it shut. “Now,” he repeated. “What the hel do you want?”

Stefn whisked off the blanket, revealing a purple, dripping erection “This is your fault,” he snarled.

Taken completely by surprise, Michael started to laugh. Stefn, enraged, reached down and, picking up his boot, hurled it at

him. His voice shook. “You think it’s funny, you damned taint! You did this to me! It’s this hel ish col ar, isn’t it? Get it off me! Get it

off!”

Michael dodged the next missile and, out of things to throw, Stefn threw himself, fists flying. Surprise let him get in a good right

hook before Michael recovered, seizing his hand and spinning him around, yanking his wrist up between his shoulder blades. The

abrupt, wrenching pain returned Stefn to some sanity. He gasped and was stil .

“Be quiet!” Michael snapped, shoving him toward the bed. “You’ve awakened the entire damn house!”

“Your fault. Ah… God… ” Flung down onto the mattress, Stefn dragged his cock along the sheets like some creature in rut.

Abruptly, Michael’s irritation evaporated “You’re real y in trouble, aren’t you?”

Tears flooded Stefn’s eyes as Michael pushed him onto his back. His hips writhed, thrusting upward. “Please!” he begged

hoarsely. “I can’t do it myself this time! I don’t know why!”

Abruptly, Michael released him. Stefn moaned, curling up at once, clutching his sex with white-knuckled hands. It took some

effort to pry them away. In the end, Michael had to tie his wrists to the bed frame.

His cethe sobbed. The big vein running up his cock was dark and distended, his rapid pulse visible in its throbbing. Every

muscle in that slim body seemed taut as wire. He was covered with sweat, dark hair in a tangle on the sheets.