Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (55 page)

“What does your ‘friend’ want?”

Cieren shrugged; a sly smile on his face. “You’ll find out soon enough, Princess. First things first. Major?”

A tall, elegant man, dressed like all the others in heavy black leather, with long pale blond hair tied neatly back, cold gray eyes, and a veneer of civility like his master’s, stood forward; an air of barely concealed disdain as he looked down his long nose at the travel-stained girl in front of Prince Cieren. Clicking his fingers at three of his men, they moved to either side and behind Jenevra. “If you would please accompany us, Your Highness,” he waved towards the door. “I’m sure we’ll be back in no time.”

“This is just a reminder, Princess.” Cieren’s breath was warm on her face as he kissed her cheek lightly, whispering into her ear, “Any trouble from you and next time it will be the children.” Turning to the group departing he added, “Nothing visible, Major Naran.”

Nodding curtly, the Major shut the door behind them; following the four out into a small side area shadowed by long eaves, to the side of the kitchen. The three men escorting the princess were built on the same lines as her own Sergeant, Brogan; blocky and strong, with enough scars visible for her to know that they had seen serious action before. No raw recruits in Cieren’s Guard; just tough veterans. They took their places as Major Naran pulled heavy leather gauntlets on; two men still to the sides and one behind her but, to her surprise, they didn’t even attempt to hold her. She was still expecting them to suddenly pin her arms when Naran slammed a hard punch low into her stomach, doubling her over. Angry with herself for not anticipating it, she glared at him, pulled herself upright and blocked his next punch, without thinking further.

Major Naran folded his arms, tut-tutting at her. “Now really, Your Highness,” he said blandly. “It would have been so much better if you hadn’t done that. Theirn,” he looked over her head at the soldier behind her. “You know where they are.” As Theirn disappeared into the darkness, the other two stepped forward to take rough hold of the princess; their grip tight on her upper arms as she made a token show of trying to pull away–if the children weren’t still inside …

Naran’s fist landed in almost the exact spot again, taking her breath away momentarily. “Don’t struggle, Your Highness,” Naran advised calmly, lifting her chin in his gloved hand. “You’ll just make things worse.” He dropped his hand, hearing booted feet approaching behind them. “Ah, splendid, Theirn.” The soldiers swung the princess round to face the new arrivals, a knowing smile lighting Naran’s face as he heard the indrawn breath she couldn’t quite suppress in time.

Colin and Annis were being held by four more soldiers; both bound and gagged, with terrified expressions in their eyes; each of their captors holding a knife ready. Seeing the young Princess there brought tears springing to Annis’s eyes.

Naran turned his attention back to Jenevra. “Your choice, Your Highness,” he pointed towards Colin and Annis. “Which one dies first?”

Closing her eyes, Jenevra swallowed hard, knowing that even if she could fight her way out of their grip, the soldiers holding Colin and Annis would slit their throats before she could reach them. Biting on her lip, she shook her head, refusing to choose.

Resigned, as if he’d been expecting that response, Naran issued his order. “Kill them both.” He looked directly at the princess as she made an outraged protest. “Just for that,” he added. “Use the woman first if you’ve a mind to it.”

“Any more objections, Your Highness? We do still have three children inside if you’ve any arguments left.” Naran smiled as he heard the sounds of his men following his orders for Colin and Annis, knowing the princess couldn’t avoid hearing it too. “Will you require my men to hold onto you for the rest of our lesson?”

Choking back tears and nausea, she stood silently, nails biting into her palms.

Naran’s fist pounded into her five more times; each time waiting until she dragged herself to her feet again. At least two of the punches landed on top of the sword wound on the left side, the only one not cauterized, and she worried vaguely that it would open up again. As she stood after the last blow, the two soldiers held her again at a signal from the Major.

“Still with us, Your Highness?” he asked, as courteously as if he’d been asking if she took milk or lemon in tea. Removing the gauntlet, his long fingers cupped her face again, looking into her eyes for signs of lucidity, amused by the venomous glint he found there. Tilting his head as if expecting a retort, he moved closer to her, feeling her tense as he untied the laces at the top of her shirt. “Now, now, Princess,” Naran said. “Think of the children.”

Cold fingers played at her throat.

Unconsciously, she flinched backwards; then froze.

A patronizing smile emerged on Naran’s lean face. “Well done, Your Highness. It seems we’re learning.” He pushed her further back into the shadows, up against the wall of the inn; the two soldiers still holding her arms, but their grip far lighter as they saw her reluctant cooperation.

Her stomach a hollow pit, Jenevra tried the only argument she thought had a chance. “If you harm me, the Emperor will kill you.”

The three men laughed.

Leaning the long hard length of his body against her, Naran placed his hand across the front of her throat, forcing her face up. “My dear Princess,” he bent his head and drew his tongue slowly from the base of her throat to her mouth. “I don’t see our beloved Emperor anywhere here. And as for the master I serve, well, as long as I don’t spoil his ultimate pleasure, Prince Cieren doesn’t care what we do with you. And I have a feeling that as long as we have the three children safely in our care, you won’t be making too many objections either.” He licked across her lips, still holding her face as she tried to turn away from him. Pulling back slightly, his expression hardened. “Not forgetting our lessons so soon, surely?”

Naran felt the resistance lessen. “Look at me, Princess,” he ordered. “I said, look at me!”

Hardly hearing him, Jenevra’s eyes were closed as she tried desperately to think of a way out, but with the children held inside she couldn’t come up with anything. The talisman had started its pounding deep inside her again, but she knew that she had to try to keep control this time. If she kept to the rules she was bound by in the Order, she would put nothing ahead of the Empire, not even those three innocent lives; but what, she asked herself, would be the point of sacrificing them at this point? She had already made the mistakes that had brought them all to this—she had allowed herself to care for people. Colin and Annis were already dead: she had heard Annis’s muffled cries cease. Jenevra knew she still needed to kill Jaiyen, and he wasn’t here. She had to go to Diruthia with Cieren and his men whatever came of it. The children didn’t have to die. Maybe she’d have a chance to get the children away from there. It was the only way to salvage any honor from this. Her mind flashed back to her investiture as Imperial Protector. She’d sworn to defend Phillip’s Empire with her life and with her honor. If that was going to be what it took, she would just have to do it; her oath demanded as much.

Major Naran’s fist grasped a handful of her hair at the back of her neck, forcing her back to the grim reality of her situation. “Last chance, Your Highness, or we bring out one of the little ones.” Glancing over his shoulder he nodded to where Annis’s body lay in the moonlight, skirts still pulled up around her. “You’d be surprised how many of the men like them young. Now, look at me.”

Revolted, but unwilling to run the risk of harming the children, Jenevra steeled herself to look into his face. Taking a long breath, she raised her eyes to his; gritting her teeth as she saw the cruel satisfaction he took in his small victory. Submitting to his kiss was the hardest thing she thought she’d ever done. As his thin lips pressed against her mouth, and his tongue forced its way in until she felt as though she would choke, her mind tried to hang on to her ultimate objective—kill Jaiyen, whatever it takes—with my honor and my life—even this.

Reminding her to keep her eyes on him, Major Naran thrust his hand down her shirt, squeezing one breast until it hurt; relishing the humiliation that she couldn’t hide in her eyes. Pinching her nipple, he twisted with his nails until he felt her try to pull away. With a curt instruction to the two men still with him, watching and relishing the princess’s torment, he began to unfasten her trousers, pushing himself against her thigh harder than ever. The soldiers held her shoulders more strongly, each man hooking his lower leg around Jenevra’s in a manner born of practice, pulling her legs apart for their commander.

His pale eyes catching silvered lamplight from the kitchen window, Major Naran had rarely found such satisfaction in threatening a violation. Against all her efforts to remain detached, Jenevra had finally, whisperingly, pleaded with him not to, but he took precious delight in slowly, inch by inch, stroking his hand down across the flat stomach; pushing against the tight fabric of her trousers until his fingers reached and caressed the soft hair between her legs. Catching his breath in anticipation, the Major licked her mouth again, whispering again for her to look at him. Seeing despair visible at last in her eyes, he slid his finger inside her, smothering her mortified protest with his mouth.

As quickly and coldly as he had started, Major Naran pulled away. Leaving her momentarily staggered and shamed, her clothes disheveled; and yet, strangely thankful that he had stopped when he did; the Major raised an eyebrow at her. “Interesting,” he noted, sparingly. “Still a virgin. His Highness will be pleased.” Brushing a hand at his hair he waved lazily at her. “Please, sort your clothes out, Your Highness. We don’t want to go back inside looking like some sluttish peasant girl now, do we?”

With shaking hands, Jenevra began trying to push her shirt back into her trousers. It took her a couple of attempts to get it right, and several more to actually fasten the laces again. She felt sickened and dishonored. She wanted to bathe more than anything; or maybe just throw up.

Major Naran and his men stood watching. Taking strands of her hair and tucking them back behind her ears, Naran smoothed it back with his hand. “There now,” he murmured soothingly. “All neat and tidy.”

“Major Naran?” Prince Cieren’s voice cut clearly across the night. “Are you finished? I really think it’s time we were on our way.”

Straightening Jenevra’s jacket for her, Major Naran pushed her gently out of the shadows towards Cieren. “Her Highness is ready, My Lord,” he announced. “I do believe we’ve reached something of an accord.”

“Splendid,” Cieren clapped his gloved hands together, bending slightly to smile encouragingly at the children. “You’d like to stay with the princess, wouldn’t you?” he asked Tilda, who bounced up and down in excitement. “Then I think we should all go, don’t you?” Walking across to Jenevra, he picked up one of her hands, noting the trembling with a knowing smirk. Raising her hand to his lips, he locked glances with Naran. “Well?”

Naran’s blond head nodded. “Your Highness will be the first.”

A smile twisted Cieren’s mouth as he saw the muscles of her jaw harden and her fingers tighten involuntarily on a knife that was no longer at her side. “Shall we?” He held his arm out to her.

With the three children held in front of Cieren’s soldiers, there was nothing she could safely do, and the company set off through the night to Diruthia.

 CHAPTER FORTY

The Menzetti family estate in Southern Maressia Major had stood on its current grounds for at least five centuries. A large well-proportioned house made of the local creamy colored stone, now almost totally covered by trailing branches of laburnum along the lower floor. Rolling green gardens ran down towards a lake built by an earlier Duke who was an avid freshwater fisherman. The sea lay beyond the lake, with high dunes providing a natural sheltering barrier from the strong onshore winds that blew steadily.

Probably the closest thing to a grandmother the princess had ever known, in the short time they had known each other Graea and Jenevra had become very close. Graea was the only other woman accepted into the Order within the last five hundred years, so she understood Jenevra better than the younger woman understood herself. Graea knew the pull of duty, responsibility and love: knew how very young Jenevra was for the actions that had already been required of her. She also understood better than anyone else could, how difficult it was for Jenevra to distinguish between her training on the Island and the life she was being expected to fit into within the Empire.

As the Flights pulled up, Graea waited patiently. Welcoming the Shadow Flight back to Mirizir, Graea greeted each of the men by name; impressing all of the watching men of Tessier’s Flight and Baran’s Guard. Coming to Gavin Logansson, she looked around for his blond twin, Logan. Noting Bernardo’s sad shake of the head, Graea held onto Gavin’s hand, commiserating his loss with him. Leaving Sergeant Brogan to make arrangements for the men to camp in the grounds, Lady Menzetti knew he would work with her own people to have things organized well before several hours had passed. Finally turning to Kian, Prince Baran and Captain Tessier, Graea frowned. “Where’s Jenevra?” she asked.

“She’s here … isn’t she?” Kian stared at his mother.

“I haven’t seen her, Kian.” Graea looked at the three men in a disapproving manner that reminded Baran and Tessier of their own mothers. “Maybe we’d better discuss this inside.” She led the way into a comfortable sitting room overlooking the lawns that ran to the beach, sending a servant to ask around the estate if anyone had seen the princess arrive.

“What makes you think she’s here?” Graea asked pointedly.

“Bernardo said she left Virat early this morning. She said she was coming here. I didn’t think anything of it. I know she was concerned to see you; she wanted to talk to you about something.” Kian rubbed at his chin.

“I’ll go check with Bernardo again,” Tessier offered quickly. A cold dread had settled on him as soon as he’d heard Lady Menzetti say the princess wasn’t there.

“Check down on the beach, Captain Tessier.” Lady Menzetti suggested. “She does like to be down there when she’s agitated about anything.”

Captain Tessier frowned slightly, nodding. “I know she wasn’t quite herself last night. She was definitely upset about something. The beach, you said?”

Baran and Kian were walking quickly to Shadow Flight’s camp area as Blaise returned from the beach. “I can’t see her anywhere down there,” he told them. “Where are you two going?”

“We need to talk to Brogan,” Baran advised him, without slowing his pace.

“Bernardo’s the only one who saw her as far as I can tell,” Sergeant Brogan confirmed, waving at his friend to join them. “Bernardo, are you sure that was all she said to you?”

“I told you, why?”

“Did you talk to her at all? Did she say where she was going?” Kian demanded.

Bernardo shook his head. “Just that she was going to Mirizir.”

Blaise raked his fingers through his hair, worried now that their argument had triggered something more serious with the princess. “She was pretty upset last night. You don’t think she’d have done anything stupid?”

Kian’s nostrils flared angrily. “She doesn’t get upset Tessier, she gets mad. And she’s always doing something stupid. Even on the Island, she got into more trouble than any other trainee I’ve ever seen. That’s why Jaiyen was constantly trying to have her thrown out of the Order.”

Tessier frowned at him. “You really need to give her a break, you know,” he said irritated. “She’s stronger than I ever thought. But she was upset last night … deeply. She was crying, and I didn’t think I’d ever see that.”

“What?” Brogan and Kian spoke at the same time.

“Never,” said Kian.

“The Captain doesn’t cry,” Brogan told him. “I’ve known her for her whole life and I’ve never even seen a hint of tears. Have you, Bernardo?”

The tall man shook his head again. His promise to the princess was weighing heavily on him. Now, hearing the concern in all of these men’s voices for the young girl, Bernardo closed his eyes, trying to hang onto the promise he’d made her.

“Well, she did last night,” Blaise insisted. “So what would have made her that miserable?” He tried to block out the memory of his late night encounter with her. “She wasn’t that upset after she killed Dhorani … why would it get to her now?”

“After she what?” Brogan asked in a disbelieving tone. “Damn it, I knew something was going on!” A bleak look on his face he bellowed across the camp. “Spider! Corrigan! Get here now!” Not noticing the troubled look on Bernardo’s face as he digested this latest revelation, Brogan rounded on the two men who came running up.

“Sergeant!” Baran’s voice overpowered Brogan’s. “There isn’t time now. We can fill you in on the details later; but I’m sure you’ll find they were under orders from the princess not to tell anyone about Mikhail’s death. What we need to do now is find out where she is. Is she safe? Maybe she ran into another Diruthian patrol?”

“You think they could be nearby?” Blaise looked about wildly.

“Wait!” Kian Menzetti laid a hand on Tessier’s arm. “I think we need to go back to the house to have another talk with my mother. There’s something missing in all this, and she has different insights into Jenna.” He glanced at Tessier. “And maybe you can tell us what she was so upset about?”

“She was just in a really odd mood,” Blaise said evasively.

“Then we start with my mother.”

Their discussion lasted far longer than any of them were comfortable with considering the princess still hadn’t been seen anywhere, even though her black horse had turned up in the stables; but no-one remembered him arriving. Kian, Baran and Tessier had sent their men out scouring the countryside for any sign of her, while they tried to figure out what could have happened.

Graea sat quiet and pale as Kian told her everything that had happened on the Island, and since; her eyes haunted.

Blaise, very reluctantly, told them part of what had happened in the House of Dancing Shadows. “I think she’s upset because she thinks I’ll sleep with someone else if she doesn’t …”

“That’s not it, Captain,” Graea corrected him quietly, a single tear tracking down her papery cheek. “I think she really did want you to make love to her.”

“Mother!” Kian snapped at her, exasperated. “How can you possibly think that? She knows her Oath. If she wouldn’t break it for Misha, why would she for him?”

“She would if she didn’t think her Oath was going to matter for much longer.”

“How do you come up with that?” Kian snorted.

“Because she’s gone to find Jaiyen. You said she was injured in the fight with Misha … and then she hurt her hand again yesterday?”

The three men looked at the old woman, horrified doubt in all of their faces.

Graea shrugged lightly. “Jenna’s gone to kill Jaiyen, before I could stop her. That’s why she hasn’t come to Mirizir. And she’s hurt enough that she doesn’t think she’ll survive.”

“Why would you stop her? You know she’s bound to it.” Kian asked.

Graea shook her silvered head at him, laying her hand on his. “No, she’s not. It should be my task, not hers. I don’t know how she knows—I didn’t tell her—but I suspect she’s discovered that Jaiyen was my training partner. She knew I wouldn’t let her go if she came here first, so she’s gone alone. She’s hurt, and she thinks Jaiyen will kill her. Or that Cieren’s men will if she gets close enough to kill Jaiyen. She holds no hope of getting out alive if she finds them. That’s why she wanted you, Captain Tessier. You were the only chance of love she could see before she dies.”

Tessier knelt down next to Graea. “Where has she gone, Lady Menzetti?” he asked the elderly woman gently. “You know I can’t let that happen.”

Placing her frail hands in his, Graea looked into his dark eyes, seeing the deep concern there. “You’re good for her, Captain Tessier.” She smiled through tears. “But I don’t know exactly where she’s gone. In that respect I only know as much as you do.” The old woman turned a stricken face to her son. “Do you know who she is, Kian?”

As the other men looked puzzled at the question, Ki-Nimh took a deep breath. “I’ve suspected … ever since the deaths on the Island. She is the Eligia Shala, isn’t she?”

Lady Menzetti nodded, tears streaming down her face, “I believe so, yes. But she says Dai-Nimh didn’t mention it to her. She’s never heard the term.”

As Kian took his mother’s arm and moved to a corner, where they talked in muted voices, Bernardo appeared at the door to the room they were sitting in. Following his Captain’s last orders to him, he held the Spirit Sword of the Shadow Flight in his hands, with a hastily scribbled note from the princess to Captain Tessier.

It simply read, “Give this to Phillip.”

After seven days of riding, Brogan began to be suspicious. He was quite certain that Bernardo’s tracking skills were as sharp as ever, but there was something edgy about his manner that Brogan couldn’t quite ascribe to his friend’s concern for the princess. And hadn’t they just rounded one end of the Jantaran forest? They were almost at the Abaleine border. Brogan couldn’t understand why they weren’t heading north to Diruthia, but Bernardo wouldn’t lose a trail that badly. Unless it was deliberate. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Brogan knew it for reality.

“Bernardo!” He shouted, galloping to join him at the front of the company.

Bernardo turned to see what the Sergeant was shouting about. One look at Brogan’s face and he knew he’d been caught out. The guilty expression on his face told Brogan everything he’d been about to ask.

“Which way did she go, Bernardo?” Brogan said in a deceptively mild manner.

Recalling his promise to the princess sadly, Bernardo lifted his arm and pointed east. If he’d known she was injured, he would never have agreed to let her go on her own, even if he’d been the one to go with her.

“Really?” Brogan pulled his horse around and signaled to Tessier, Baran and Kian. “We’re going west.”

“But he just said east,” Tessier objected. He had been fairly quiet since he had been given the Spirit Sword. Knowing she trusted him with the sword gave him a little hope, if they could just find her in time.

“Captain Tessier, trust me.” Brogan grinned. “Our devious little Princess has done it again. If I’m not mistaken, Bernardo here has promised her he’ll lead us in the wrong direction. All we have to do is go in the opposite direction and we’ll find where she really is … right, Bernardo?”

“She said I could tell you it was an order,” the tall man said resignedly. “But I can’t break my promise, Brogan—not to her, you know that.”

“No need to, my friend. I should have realized earlier … as soon as you said you’d spoken to her. You keep on pointing us in the wrong direction and we’ll just keep on being smarter than you. She can’t object to that.”