Destiny (32 page)

Very. They’re all drifting off to sleep now. I don’t think we’ll hear much from them until just before dawn.

Good. Go hunt.

Tor felt the Link close and stared into the flames. The name of Nord Jesper continued to niggle at him but experience told him to let it alone and it would come back to him of its own accord. He checked his patients. Both were now sleeping soundly after their latest cup of his special brew, which he kept simmering gently over the fire. Good, the rest now would do all the healing.

He sat back and thought about Orlac. His brother. The moment Alyssa uttered her thoughts, he knew it was true. So he too was a prince of the gods and had been sacrificed to Tallinor in order to murder his brother…and now Dorgryl, who lived within Orlac. He shook his head; he had not shared this information with Alyssa. She was already suffering shock from the discovery of him being alive and the children’s sudden arrival in her life, as well as despair at the death of Lorys. Yet still she moved forward doggedly, determined to see through her part in all of this. Learning of Lauryn’s capture had been another blow, making her more fearful than Tor had ever seen her. To top that with the news that Orlac had been possessed by another god, one even madder and more vengeful, could break Alyssa’s battered spirit. No, it was best that he withheld this information, whatever the consequences.

And what of the Trinity? Were they up to this new and terrifying challenge? How would they know what to do? Most importantly of all…what was their purpose? He turned these questions over and over in his tired mind, finally deciding that he should not look too far ahead. Deal with the immediate problem, he told himself. Follow the plan. Finish Goth. Then back to the Heartwood to finish Orlac.

His mind turned to Goth. How he hated the man. How many lives had been lost through him? And inevitably his thoughts fell sorrowfully upon Eryn and the permanent mental picture he carried of the lovely young woman hung upside down and left to die in such a barbaric way. Even Orlac had more capacity to kill
humanely, he thought. In a way he was glad Quist had died too for he felt sure the man’s life would have been ruined anyway without his great love. He hoped the pirate never learned of Eryn’s death but it was unlikely Goth would not have taken the opportunity to torture Quist with the gory details before killing him.

Tor thought about Eryn’s brief, sad life. She seemed to have lived it to the fullest and yet he had sensed a grief in her at their last two meetings. At a superficial level it was her ongoing disappointment that she and Tor might never be more than hidden lovers, great friends. But he decided it had been more than that. Eryn had not recovered from the death of Petyr. He knew she prided herself on having taken care of her brothers, ferociously protecting and raising them from tiny lads when she herself was hardly more than a slip of a girl. But it was Petyr who had broken her heart, he knew. Finding him dead as she had, unable to reach or help him, had scarred her permanently.

It made Tor angry. And then it hit him. Nord Jesper!

Nord Jesper!
he cried, slashing open the Link and alarming Cloot who was feasting.

Yes, that’s his name,
the falcon said calmly.

Cloot, that’s the name of the sailor who beat Eryn’s brother, Petyr, leaving him half-dead. Petyr never recovered, ran away from Eryn and Locky and ended up in a stracca den in Caradoon. She found him there, dead. She was just hours too late.
Tor’s voice broke on his last words.

All right, Tor. I hear you. You’ll have your revenge, I promise. They still sleep. They’re going nowhere.

I’ll avenge Petyr for Eryn. It’s what she wanted.

Get some rest,
Cloot cautioned.
We’ll talk in the morning when you can think clearly.

More wise words from his friend. Tor said a brief farewell and closed the Link.

He curled up next to Alyssa, careful not to disturb her, and tried not to think about Lauryn and her fear of Orlac. Instead he imagined Goth and Nord Jesper at his mercy.

Juno came reluctantly for Lauryn. Adongo followed her in.

‘What does he want?’ Lauryn said fearfully.

Juno glanced towards Adongo. Something may have passed between them —she did not hear—but Lauryn stared, frightened, regarding them both. She knew instinctively that they were trying to weigh up whether to tell her the truth.

‘He wishes for you to spend the night with him.’ Juno, at Adongo’s bidding, chose honesty.

A series of shocks trembled through Lauryn’s body, culminating in dizziness. Within two strides Adongo was holding her. She sat down heavily.

‘You must be brave now, Miss Lauryn,’ he said.
If you go to him willingly, he will not hurt you.

Lauryn heard voices in her head and a buzzing in her ears. Her legs would surely not even support her
weight now. She began to shake her head. ‘I’m not ready for this. Surely you won’t ask this of me?’

Juno winced at the pain in her bonded one’s voice.
We must child.
‘Don’t fight this. He has chosen you above all others,’ she said, hating herself.

Lauryn’s whole body was trembling now as Adongo left the room and Juno first undressed and then re-clothed her in a white gown in the simple, yet beautiful, Ciprean styling. Lauryn had withdrawn mentally, overwhelmed with panic at the thought that she was about to lose herself to Orlac—the very enemy they had been born to destroy. Her father’s brother would rape her. She remained within herself, tears silently coursing down her face as Juno gently hummed a soft tune, hoping to soothe the girl. She brushed and dressed her hair with fresh white, fragrant flowers.

I must speak with my father,
Lauryn announced, returning to the scene around her.

Please, child, I beg of you. Do not risk casting. The cursed one may be listening. You may jeopardise all our lives. I care not for mine but
you
must survive this trial and soon we will destroy him.

I can’t, Juno.

Juno stood behind Lauryn, both of them staring into the mirror. She pretended a bright voice for any eavesdroppers. ‘You are very beautiful, Miss Lauryn.’

Don’t make me do this.

We have no choice. We must get through it so we can live another day to fight the final battle.
‘Would you prefer the antler or tortoiseshell clasp?’

Lauryn refused to answer.
I will fight him. He will hurt me and I will blame you and Adongo, my Paladin, who are supposed to give their lives for me.

It was an unfair stab but Juno accepted it for she knew she must. The child was terrified and rightly so. She chose the tortoiseshell.

Adongo entered. ‘It is time, Miss Lauryn.’

I hate you both!
she said, masking intense feelings behind a face devoid of all expression now.

We love you,
they said together.
And we will avenge this.

Lauryn looked between them; knew well they were hurting but did not care. She could not cry any more but she was not able to stop her body trembling. It was no longer fear, it was anger. Inside, something snapped into place in her mind and she found a calm, the foundation of which was pure, white rage like lava overflowing into her body. Lauryn stood.

‘Let’s get this done with.’

She walked steadily between them, refusing the Link they attempted several times to open. Lauryn had shielded herself so completely, not even they could reach her. She would not contact her father, nor would she allow him to witness this terrible event. As they climbed the marble staircase in silence, Lauryn began to reinforce her mental, magical walls about herself. He could do what he would with her body but he would not touch her mind. She would not permit him access to a Link. She was strong enough to withstand his mind probes and she would deny him what he would know was her true self. It was only via the Link that he could truly possess her. She would refuse him.
I can be anyone,
she reassured herself.
I could be Xantia for all it would matter. Or a corpse.
She finally decided on the latter as it best described how she would behave.

When they arrived and were permitted into the salon, her Paladin tried once again to offer some encouragement but she rebuffed them with a cold stare. And when she was asked to enter by Orlac’s servant, she stopped when they moved to go with her. Lauryn held her hand up, her face hard and unyielding. It was clear she wished to enter his chambers alone. She permitted the servant to open the door and as she glided in with the air of detachment she had finally achieved, she gave one last sad thought to Gyl.

It should be him, she wished, not allowing herself to cry over it.

Night’s dark mantle had closed around evening. Orlac had dismissed all servants. The last of them showed her out onto the balcony and then left. Lauryn’s superior hearing noted the door close. She was alone with her torturer. He stood at the furthest end of the balcony with his back to her. He was strikingly dressed in a loose white shirt over white breeches. His long black boots accentuated his height and the long lean lines of his body. She did not move and in that moment of watching him, anticipating him, she realised she was terrified.

Finally he turned. His long, golden hair had been combed back and tied into a single club. His skin looked bronzed and polished.

‘Thank you for coming.’

‘Did I have a choice?’ She tried to sound strong in her words but her fear betrayed her and they came out sounding nervous.

He did not answer but flashed her an almost shy smile. He approached but did not touch her. Instead, she was surprised to see him bow before her. ‘Not really but it
doesn’t spoil my pleasure at seeing you. Lauryn, you are more beautiful than I’ve even imagined in my thoughts.’

Gone were the arrogant tones of Sylc, his innuendo, his peacock mannerisms. This man spoke quietly. His garb, though hanging superbly off his body, was plainly styled and lacking in the colour favoured by the Regent. And where Sylc used elevated language, bordering on poetic, Orlac had a simple, straightforward way of talking. It confused her momentarily. She wanted to hurt him with a caustic reply but none came. Again her anxiety betrayed her. One aspect of him which had not changed were those violet eyes; they were drawing her closer, willing her to accept him.

He gestured towards the table. ‘Will you join me? The chef here is from a long line of famous chefs, apparently. I gather your father knew him.’ He smiled. ‘Actually he saved his life. It seems our mutual relative enjoys hero status with my cook.’ This was not said unkindly. If she had read it right, it was said to make her smile, relax even.

Desperately wanting to be churlish, Lauryn snapped her eyes away from his inviting violet gaze. ‘Given his loyalty to my father, are you not afraid he may poison you then?’

‘I have taken precautions,’ he said gently. ‘Although I fear Ryk is too passionate about his cooking to risk spoiling it with anything which could make it bitter.’ He sighed very softly, taking her arm without putting any pressure on it. ‘Well, that’s what I like to think, anyway.’

There it was again—that self-deprecating manner. Lauryn wanted to refuse his food, ignore him, make him force himself upon her, but against her wishes she found herself permitting him to guide her to a chair.

‘I’ve taken the liberty of finding out your favourite foods.’ He shrugged a little self-consciously. ‘We haven’t had time to learn much, of course, but Ryk has done his best. I hope it satisfies you.’

She gave him a quizzical look. She tried to pinpoint a new quality in him—it was not nerves because Orlac was graceful and assured as always but Lauryn picked up how intent his need was to make her feel comfortable. He was trying to impress her as any new lover might. It was so perplexing. And his courtesies, his beautiful voice—not dissimilar to her own father’s she grudgingly admitted—and, she had to accept it, his thrilling looks, only served to make her confusion more complex.

‘It all looks very appetising, thank you,’ she said, in mild disbelief at her own good grace.

He asked if he could pour her some wine. ‘You will like this,’ he said, only pouring a little into her glass. ‘But taste it and tell me. If you don’t, we shall order something different.’

She did. It effected an extraordinary explosion of taste in her mouth and she could not believe she was smiling. ‘It’s very fine.’

He beamed, pleased at the compliment, and filled her glass but modestly. Clearly, he had no intention of deliberately trying to get her intoxicated.

‘Oh, and I have this for you,’ he said, suddenly leaping back to his feet. At the end of the table was a velvet roll. He handed it to her and then looked away. ‘It’s just something I’d like you to have.’

Now he was embarrassed. Light! She could not work him out. Lauryn really did not want to unroll it but he watched her as if he was holding his breath.

‘Would you like me to look at it now?’

He shrugged, the awkward grin back on his face. He reached for his wine and took a gulp. Lauryn unrolled the velvet. Inside lay a necklace of dazzling sea-green gems. Each one looked as if it had a flame burning inside it—the candlelight reflecting fantastically from the surface of each jewel. She was taken aback. Orlac glanced at her sideways. Impossibly, it seemed to her that he was unsure of what to do next.

Why do you woo her, nephew? She is your slave. We promised you that you would have your every desire with her. These courtesies make me feel ill. Throw her on her back; have your pleasure and be done. Then do it again tomorrow night until she feels used and depraved. How else will you get her to call to her father?

And
you
make me feel ill, Dorgryl. Withdraw.

I warn you—

Withdraw!
he shouted within, knowing the pain of his despair had crossed his face and his guest had seen it.

Dorgryl’s mist backed down and away, curling within itself. Sulking.

Lauryn did not know what was expected of her and she had been watching his face for some sign. She noticed he seemed to be disturbed and this frightened her more. He seemed to be so many different people. She forced herself to look away from him and back to the velvet roll. Well, she was to be his whore and she presumed it was right that she graced her body with whatever he wanted her to wear.

Lauryn had already decided to think of herself as Orlac’s whore. Only by so doing could she not confuse this relationship with the way she felt about Gyl. She
wanted to be Gyl’s lover. She wanted no other man to touch her in love. And because Orlac intended to have her, then she would be his object.

‘Do you wish me to put it on?’

He seemed composed once again and made a deprecating shrug. ‘Only if it pleases you. I chose it to match your beautiful eyes.’

Lauryn swallowed hard. He was not making it easy to hate him. Instead he looked like a lost boy.

‘May I?’ he said, pointing to the jewels.

She nodded. What else could she do? Spitting in his face or throwing them over the balcony would only enrage him, and both Juno and Adongo had counselled her strenuously against bringing such rage on. They had told her how petrifying he could be when his ire was aroused. She had had no indication of this but she would not provoke it.

Lauryn felt his presence behind her as he hooked the gems around her neck, but not once did he attempt to caress her; not once did his fingers, so close, even briefly touch her skin. The jewels sat perfectly against her collar bone, heavy and cold. Orlac walked around to admire her.

‘They are lovely and you do them justice. It is your beauty which sets them off and makes them look as perfect as they do around your neck.’

She bowed her head in acknowledgement of the compliment, at a loss as to what to say to him.

‘I have one more gift for you tonight,’ he said. ‘You may like it better than the necklace.’ He grinned and left the table. ‘I will be only a few moments, please help yourself.’

He disappeared into his chambers. Lauryn shook her head to clear her thoughts. So far only his smile and that gaze had touched her. She had thought he would leap onto her body as soon as she entered his rooms. If anything, he was being as charming and attentive as any man could be to a woman.

He reappeared. ‘I thought he may prevent you from being too lonely here.’ In his arms was a tiny, fluffy creature.

When it lifted its head, she saw it was a puppy, barely weaned she felt sure. Her mouth opened in surprise and her heart melted at the sight of its large, dark, trusting eyes. It yawned from Orlac’s arms and then yapped once; he handed it to Lauryn who was instantly in love with her golden dog.

‘I didn’t presume to name him but he will grow into a fine beast and you will need to give him a proud name to match his stature.’

He sat down and again she noticed that tentativeness.

‘He’s too beautiful.’

‘Not as beautiful as you. But like the jewels, he is a good match.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, this time unable not to show her pleasure at this unexpected gift.

‘He will always protect you, Lauryn. No bad will come to you once he is grown.’

For some strange reason, these words sounded prophetic and they affected her deeply. The jewels, the sensitivity of his attitude and now this most appropriate and thoughtful gesture of giving her company. She wept. He sat silently, watching until she had found her calm
again. The dog had drifted into a puppy’s blissful sleep in her lap.

She sniffed. ‘I shall call him Pelyss.’

‘Ah,’ he said and smiled. ‘After the god—protector against all demons?’

She nodded, not really knowing how she knew this to be right.

‘An excellent choice,’ he admitted, reaching for his wine. ‘Now eat, Lauryn. You need feeding.’

And so in these strange and unexpected circumstances she found herself dining and conversing with Orlac. It seemed preposterous. All her loved ones were preparing for torrid battle whilst she sat there with a puppy on her lap, exquisite gems about her neck, quaffing superb wine and feasting as her enemy told her about Cipres and all that he had learned about that fabulous city and capital of the Exotic Isles. Lauryn was ashamed to admit he was brilliant company; far more engaging and witty than Sylc, making her laugh out loud several times. And she could tell he revelled in his ability to do so. The night stretched on and the candles burned low. Still Orlac had made no move that could alarm or disgust her.