Donovan's Woman (13 page)

* * *

Marri scrambled out of bed and hurried toward the door. “It’s all right,” she assured the nuns. “He won’t hurt you. He’s…he’s a pet.”

“A pet?” The Reverend Mother stepped warily into the room. “You brought a wolf here and didn’t think to mention it?”

“I’m sorry, but I was afraid you wouldn’t let him stay.”

“You thought rightly.” Reverend Mother’s face paled as she glanced from the wolf to the body on the floor. She glanced at Gryff. “This is the man I told you about, the one who came looking for Marri.”

“It’s Dunnin,” Annis said from the doorway. Face pale, she gave the wolf a wide berth as she hurried to Marri’s side.

Reverend Mother nodded. “Yes, that was his name.”

Marri shuddered. If she’d ever needed proof that her brother wanted her dead, she had it now. Trembling in the aftermath of the attack and the reality that her own flesh and blood had sent someone to kill her, Marri slumped on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

Reverend Mother took a deep, calming breath. “The danger seems to be past, for now. We will talk more in the morning about your pet. Marri, where is your husband?”

“He heard something outside and went to check.”

Reverend Mother nodded. “When he returns, please ask him to bury the body. Sisters, go back to bed. Annis, you may stay here until Gryff returns.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

Marri glanced at the wolf. “Go find Gryff.”

With a short yip, he padded out of the room. Once out of sight, he resumed his own form.

* * *

Later, after making sure Marri was all right and sending Annis back to bed, Gryff found a shovel, then carried the dead man to a corner of the yard behind the garden and dumped him on the ground.

His fury against Marri’s brother rode him hard as he dug the grave. What kind of monster ordered a hit on his own sister? Marri had said she had no designs on the throne. Surely she had told her brother that, as well. Apparently he hadn’t believed her.

Gryff dropped the body into the hole and filled it in. Replaced the shovel in the barn. Washed his hands. And hurried back to his bride.

She was sitting up in bed, waiting for him, her face wan.

“Are you all right?”

“My throat’s sore.”

Sitting beside her, he examined her neck, felt his rage threaten to engulf him yet again when he saw the bastard’s handprints on her pale skin. Damn the man! He wished he could kill him all over again.

Marri’s gaze searched his. “We aren’t safe here any more, are we?”

“No. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

“Where will we go?”

“Wherever the wind blows us, I guess.”

* * *

Marri stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts in turmoil. Was there any place where they would be safe? Wherever they went, they would constantly be looking over their shoulders, wondering if every stranger they met was another of Artur’s assassins.

There was, she thought, only one thing to do. Confront Artur face-to-face and swear to him by all she held dear that she didn’t want the throne. If necessary, she would put it in writing.

She just hoped that, when all this was over, she and Gryff could spend the rest of their lives together in peace. Where they went didn’t matter, as long as they were together.

Artur paced from one side of the throne room to the other. Dunnin should have returned by now. Only death would prevent his favorite assassin’s return.

Frowning, he paused to stare out the window. Dunnin possessed the strength and endurance of a young bull. It would take an incredibly strong man to defeat him.

He considered his other knights. None were as trustworthy or capable as his favorite.

Artur drummed his fingertips on the window frame. He would wait another day or two. If his assassin hadn’t returned by then, he would go in search of Marri himself and dispatch her with his own two hands.

* * *

Serepta hurled the cauldron against the wall. It hit with a resounding thud, splashing water over the wall and the floor. She had tried every locator spell she knew. None of them had worked. And she knew the reason why. Seleena. What she didn’t know was why her mother was interfering in something that was none of her business.

Perhaps it was time to find out.

It took only moments to prepare a new spell. A short incantation, a wave of her hand, and she was standing in front of Seleena’s house in the dusty little village that had no name.

* * *

Seleena knew the exact moment when her daughter arrived at her door. There was no mistaking Serepta’s dark magic. It poisoned the very air.

After taking a deep, calming breath to ground herself, she lifted the latch. “Good evening, daughter.”

“Mother.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Will you not invite me in?”

“I think not. What is it you want?”

Serepta’s fangs flashed in a humorless smile. “I want to know why you are interfering in my life.”

“Interfering? I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean. How dare you conjure a protection spell for Gryff and his whore.”

“I dare to do whatever I wish,” Seleena retorted.

“He is mine.”

“Yes, I saw the marks of your ownership on his flesh, sensed your evil on his soul.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No. Nor would I tell you if I did.”

Serepta glared at her. “Remove the spell.”

“I think not.”

“Remove it!”

“I said no. You have no power here, my daughter. Be gone before I turn you into a nanny goat, or a yellow-backed newt.”

Seleena crossed her arms over her breasts as Serepta summoned her power. She could almost see the darkness coalescing around her daughter, feel the strength and the anger building, smell the bloodlust that clung to her like rancid perfume.

It pained her to see her daughter — her once sweet and lovely child — so filled with hatred and vengeance. Unable to bear the sight any longer, Seleena stepped back and quietly closed the door.

Serepta had chosen the dark path; she must follow it to the end.

* * *

Hands tightly clenched at her sides, Serepta stared at the closed door. How was it possible for her mother to thwart her at every turn? Her dark magic should be stronger. Why wasn’t it?

Pivoting on her heel, she stalked down the dusty street. Her only hope was that Gryff and the woman would return to Brynn Castle.

And if they didn’t?

She shook her head. They would. They must.

She smiled as she kicked a cat out of her path. She had plans for her handsome slave and his whore. Protection spell or not, he was hers. He would always be hers. And if she couldn’t have him, neither would anyone else.

Marri glanced out the window of the Landskiff, her cheeks still damp from the tears she had shed when she bid farewell to Annis.

“We can visit her again, when this business with your brother is settled,” Gryff said.

“I know.” But knowing didn’t ease the heartache she felt now. “Where are we going?”

“Back to Ironntown.”

Surprised by his answer, she turned to look at him. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“I’m betting your brother won’t think of looking for us there again. Serepta knows where I used to live, but as far as I know, she’s never heard of that tavern in Ironntown. We can hole up there unless we find a better place along the way.”

Marri nodded. She still thought confronting Artur was the right thing to do, but Gryff had disagreed, insisting it was too dangerous.

Sighing, she glanced out the window again, praying they would find another haven, because she had no desire to return to that awful shack.

* * *

Darkness had fallen by the time they stopped for the night.

Stepping out of the skiff, Marri stretched her aching back before following Gryff around to the hatch. Thanks to the generosity of Mother Superior, they had enough food and water to last a few weeks.

Inside the cabin, she stood with arms akimbo, weary but not tired enough to sleep.

Her heart skipped a beat when Gryff came up behind her, his arms sliding around her waist as he nuzzled her neck. His breath was warm against her skin, his voice husky as he whispered her name.

She answered his unasked question by taking his hand and leading him toward her bed.

Warm anticipation engulfed her as they undressed each other. She never tired of looking at him, touching him. Sitting on the bed, she fell back on the mattress, tugging him down on top of her, welcoming his weight. She ran her hands over his back, remembering how Serepta had whipped him. How had he survived such cruelty? What would the witch do if she found him again?

“Hey, stop worrying.” He smoothed the crease from her brow with his fingertips. “Everything will work out.”

She wanted to believe him. Had to believe him. Because she couldn’t bear to contemplate the consequences if he was wrong.

* * *

Gryff drove practically day and night until they reached Ironntown. Though Marri wasn’t thrilled at returning, she was relieved that the journey was over.

They had made a brief stop at a space port. Using the credits Seleena had generously offered them, they bought a few changes of clothing, sheets, blankets and pillows, a large throw rug, and some personal items for Marri.

Gryff carried the carpet inside while Marri followed with the rest of their belongings.

She stood in the middle of the living room, appalled anew at what she saw.

“A coat of paint might help,” Gryff suggested.

Marri nodded, then ducked through the curtain that divided the living room from the bedroom. Refusing to think of the past or the future, she stowed their new clothing in the scarred dresser, ripped the old linen from the bed, and smoothed the new sheets in place. After replacing the old pillow with two new ones, she gathered up the old bedding and carried it into the other room. “What should I do with this?”

“I’ll get rid of it.” He took it from her hands and carried it outside.

Sighing, she glanced around, wondering if they could buy a new sofa. Wondering how long they’d have to stay here. When she would see her sister again. Where her mother had gone.

When Gryff returned, she was still standing there.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, to bring you back here. It’s sure no place for a princess. Hell, it’s hardly fit for the rats and the roaches.”
Gathering her courage, Marri said, “I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“Artur. I know you think it’s too dangerous, but I’m certain the only way to end this is to confront him. I’m sure I can convince him that all I want to do is go away with you, and that if he agrees to let us go, he’ll never see me again.”

Gryff shook his head. “Do you really think he’ll believe you?”

“I don’t know. But what other choice do we have? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life waiting for another of his assassins to find me.”

Heaving a sigh, Gryff drew Marri into his arms, a surge of protectiveness sweeping through him when she rested her head on his chest. Hard to believe he had once thought of her as a burden; now, he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

* * *

Long after Marri had fallen asleep, Gryff continued to think about what she’d said about confronting Artur, but taking her back home seemed like an incredibly bad idea. From what he knew of her brother, it seemed unlikely Artur would blithely accept her promise to leave and wish her well. And while Gryff wasn’t afraid of a fight, it would be suicide for one man to go against Artur’s army.

And then there was Serepta. Always Serepta.

Damn and blast! What the devil was he going to do about her?  

Artur slammed his fist against the wall. Time was running out. His father had taken to his bed. It was only a matter of weeks, perhaps a month, before the old man passed on. According to the law of the land, Artur could not be proclaimed king until there was proof that Marri was dead or incapable of ruling the kingdom. He could rule in her absence, but only as Prince Regent.

Serepta proclaimed to be a powerful witch, but so far, Marri had eluded her magic.

Well, she wasn’t the only witch in the land. Summoning his page, he said, “Send one of the knights to summon Nardik.”

If Serepta couldn’t locate Marri, perhaps his father’s wizard could.

* * *

Nardik swept into the Great Hall, his cloak billowing behind him. He did not bow to Artur, merely inclined his head, as if he considered himself to be of equal — if not greater — rank than royalty. “You wished to see me?” He spoke quietly, yet his voice carried to the furthest corner of the room.

“Yes,” Artur said. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“How may I be of service?”

“My sister has been missing for quite some time. I am worried for her safety. I was hoping you could locate her for me.”

“I will need something that belongs to her. An item of clothing would be best.”

Artur snapped his fingers and a page ran up the stairs.

Artur frowned when Serepta entered the Hall. “I don’t recall sending for you.”

“Forgive me, majesty,” she said, “but I sensed the presence of another witch.”

“Ah. This is my father’s wizard, Nardik.”

“Indeed?” There was no mistaking the disdain in Serepta’s voice as she regarded the wizard. He was tall and thin, but not spindly. Long gray hair framed a narrow face with flat cheeks, an aquiline nose, and eyes the color of honey.

Nardik looked down his nose at her. “Seleena’s daughter.” He nodded, his expression one of barely veiled contempt. “Magic wasn’t enough for you, so you sought the Dark Gift. Has it served you well?”

“Well enough!”

“Yet you cannot accomplish a simple location spell.”

“They are under my mother’s spell of protection!”

He snorted disdainfully.

Re-entering the room, the page knelt in front of Nardik, a dark blue glove in his hand.

Nardik took it from him, laid it on a nearby table, and bowed his head. Power flooded the room as he uttered an incantation.

It was one Serepta had never heard, but she knew it was working. She could feel it in every fiber of her being. Jealousy knifed through her. How could this man — this wizard — control more power than did she? The vampire who had turned her had promised that her magic would be stronger than that of any other witch, wizard, or sorcerer. She clenched her fists. He had lied to her. That was the only answer.

The wizard’s power swelled, reached a crescendo, and dissipated. “Your sister is in Ironntown.’

Brow knit, Artur asked, “Are you certain?”

“You doubt me?”

“No, never.” Artur shook his head. “I did not think they would go back there. I will send a dozen of my knights after them at once.”

“It will take them days to get there,” Nardik remarked. “I can be there and back by morning.”

Artur smiled, pleased.

“I’m going with you,” Serepta declared.

“I travel alone,” the wizard said, and his tone left no room for argument. Gathering his cloak around him, he vanished.