Soul Magic (2 page)

             
"Nay."  Darrick stopped him with a word.  Gritting his teeth, he looked beyond, to the small army camped in the soggy field outside his gate, their garnet colored banners snapping blood red against the slate sky.  "`Twould seem Morfran thinks my wits so addled from my imprisonment that I cannot see through such a trick.  I will deal with the woman – and learn how she gained entrance to my keep."

             
“But—“

             
Gesturing to the south end of the courtyard where his own men made ready for battle, Darrick shook his head.  “You take two men and search the perimeter.  If there is a break in the wall, we must find it before Morfran’s men come through it.”

             
Turning, he made his way down the stone stairs, dodging a crumbling step here, a broken stone there.  Striding across the still empty courtyard, he approached her from behind.  He had a siege to withstand, a battle to win or lose.  This woman, whoever she was, was naught but a minor nuisance in the larger scheme of things, easily dealt with once he learned how she’d slipped inside.  The dungeons below were still functional, after all.

             
When he drew close enough, he grabbed hold of her slender shoulder, causing her hood to fall as she spun around and faced him. 

             
Shocked, he stared.  He knew not what he’d been expecting, but not this. 

             
“You.”  Alanna of Rune, Princess of Fae and his former betrothed, peered up at him with eyes the bright green of  summer grass and struggled to find a smile.  When she did, he felt it all the way to the soles of his feet. 

             
Even now, nearly five long years later. 

             
“Aye, Darrick.  Too much time has passed since I saw you last.”  She spoke with so much throaty warmth that any other man might have believed she had missed him.  Darrick knew better.

             
With a curt nod, he kept his countenance grim and unwelcoming.                “How came you here and what do you want, Alanna?”

             
Her lovely eyes darkened and her smile faded. Her lips parted as she stared up at him.  For a moment, the mere space of a heartbeat, his entire world seemed comprised of her creamy skin and exotically slanted emerald eyes.  The harsh words of reproach died on his lips, and he cursed himself for a thousand times fool.

             
Once, the sheer power of her smile had made him believe she loved him.  She had proven otherwise, leaving him on the night before they were to be married.  Like all the fickle Fae, Alanna of Rune cared only for herself.

             
“I need your help,” she said.  “Please.”

             
“My help?”  Gesturing around them, Darrick grimaced. Before his wits completely deserted him, he sucked in a lungful of icy air, and gave her a fierce frown.  “I am scarcely in a position to help anyone.  We are under siege.”

             
“I see that.”

             
“My castle is well fortified. How were you able to gain entrance?”

             
She waved a hand.  “Others have given me their strength to help me.”

             
“You make no sense.”

             
“Very well.”  She sighed.  “I have saved my magic for weeks.”

             
Magic
.  “Do you use your power for Morfran now?”

             
“Never.”  Her gaze narrowed.  “Speak not his name in my presence.  If I could help you slay that evil man, I would do so in the space of a heartbeat.”

             
Shaking his head, he crossed his arms.  “Go away, Alanna of Rune, princess of the Fae.  I have no time for your magic, nor your games.”

             
Unbound silken hair the color of wheat whipped about her heart-shaped face.  She lifted her chin.  “This is not play, not now.  I am desperate.  I need your help.”

             
“No.”

             
His quick declination did not seem to affect her. “Darrick, I can assist you with this battle.  Would you like me to make them go away?”

             
His heart skipped a beat.  Though he knew her for what she was, some small part of him wanted to believe—

             
Fool
.  He cursed under his breath.  “Ah, now we get to the truth of the matter.  Did Morfran send you to barter the terms of my surrender?"

             
Though her eyes again narrowed at the name of his enemy, she did not look away.  "Surrender?  Why would you think to surrender when the battle can so easily be won?"

             
"I have no time for jests," he snarled.

             
Now the last remnants of her smile finally disappeared, making him feel as though a cloud obscured the sun. 

             
Grim faced, she shook her head.  "I speak only truth.  I will do this for you in return for the promise of your assistance.  So once more I ask, would you like me to make the invaders disappear?"

             
Her words rang out, bell-like in their clarity.  The clear tones of her voice caused a momentary tightness in his chest.  Only the shouts of his mean as they readied their positions on the wall and the bitter howl of the wind reminded him of his precarious situation.

             
He had no time for nonsense.

             
“Your magic--”

             
“Is weak, true.  But many have lent me their power, their strength.  I yet have command of many things, Lord Darrick of Thorncliff.”

             
Glaring at her, he crossed his arms.  “I remember the laws.  You are forbidden from interceding directly between the wars of men.”

              “Yes, but I am allowed a few tricks that might make them go elsewhere.”

             
Foolish words and tricks
.  God help him, such was the power of her beauty that he had almost forgotten…. 

             
“Let us be done with this drivel.”  Impatience had him running his hand through his hair.  “If you speak only truth," the contempt in his voice left no doubt as to his disbelief, "tell me now what you want from me.”

             
The fickle wind sent a strand of her silken hair to lash against his cheek.  With an effort he kept himself from recoiling.

             
She clasped her hands together.  “`Tis more important to me than I can say.”

             
“It must be,” his harsh voice contained echoes of his lingering pain, “important to make you return to the man you left at the altar.” 

             
She lifted her chin, her green eyes blazing.  “Aye.  Nothing is more important to me than the life of my son.”

             
Her son
? 

             
Darrick beat back the roaring in his ears.  “You have a son?” 

             
If she’d hit him in the back of the head with his own sword, he couldn’t have been more flummoxed.  A son.

             
“Aye.”  Twin flags of scarlet decorated her cheeks.  Still, she held her head high.  “He is named Caradoc.”

             
Cautious rage.  “You have married, then?”

             
Now she looked away.  “No.”

             
His bones turning to stone, Darrick watched her. “Bastard born.  Like Geoffrey.”

             
“Yes.”

             
“How old?”

             
She swallowed.

             
“How old is this child?” he repeated his question.

             
Meeting his gaze, she swallowed again.  “Caradoc is four, nearly five summers.”

             
Five
.  Five years ago he had loved her, and she him.  They had shared one night…

             
God’s teeth.  He set his jaw and sucked in a lungful of icy air.  “Is the child mine?” 

             
His heart thundered in his ears while he waited for her answer.  God help him, if she had run from their marriage and borne his son in secret, even her magic could not save her from the fierceness of his rage.

             
Face averted, she shook her head.  “Nay.  He is not your child.”

             
“Not my--” 

             
“No.  Caradoc was sired by another.”

             
Another. 

             
Eying her otherworldly beauty, Darrick berated himself for being thrice a fool.  Even after all that had transpired five years ago he’d believed she’d loved him once.  Now he knew even her vows of love then were naught but lies.

             
Of course.  Varden’s needless death had taught him there was no justice in this world.

             
He cleared his throat, wishing he could dispel the awful ache in his chest.  And now she wanted his help. Did she mock him?  How could she, when all she had done in the past humiliated and wounded him?  How much more did she expect him to endure?

             
Deliberately unclenching his fists, he spoke his next words with careful dignity, betraying none of his inner turmoil.  “Why ask for my help?  Why not go to the boy’s father?”

             
Her mask, the one he’d once teased her about, slipped.  Darrick watched as revulsion and horror and shame flickered across her face, before she schooled her features back to icy coolness.

             
“I was raped, Darrick.  He took me by force, the eve of our wedding.  Caradoc was conceived that awful night.”

             
Stunned, he could only stare at her. 

             
“I could not marry you then,” she said, still staring off into the distance.  “I could not let you see my shame.”

             
He found his voice, managed to push words past the fury and the hurt.  “You should have come to me.  I would have avenged your honor.”

             
“Honor?”  She gave a mocking laugh.  “I had no honor left when he was done.  All I had – all I have – is my child.  My boy.  Caradoc.  I must find him.”

             
He moved towards her.  “Alanna, I--”

             
She moved back.  “Will you help me?”

             
He took a great gulp of air, then another, again welcoming the icy bite as it spread through his lungs. 

             
“Will you help me?” she repeated. 

             
“There is one thing you have not told me.”  Now he closed the distance between them.  He took her chin in his hand and, pretending not to notice how she flinched, made her look at him.

             
“Who?  Who did this thing to you?”  By sheer force of will he kept his rage from showing, kept his gaze level and his voice steady.   His blood pounding in his ears, he waited to hear her answer.  

             
The color drained from her heart-shaped face.  “Why?  Does this matter so much now, when so much time has passed?”

             
“Does this matter?” He roared.  Releasing her, he stumbled backwards, wiping his hand across his mouth. 

             
“Darrick--”

             
“I want to go down on my knees and howl my rage at the sky and you ask this?”  He clenched his fists, keeping himself rooted in place, away from her, not sure if he touched her, he could stop himself from shaking her. 

             
“I--”

             
“
Of course it matters
.  It matters greatly.  I want his name.”

             
Still she looked uncertain, her lip caught between her teeth.  “Darrick…”

             
“Give me the name of the man who took from me all that was mine to protect and cherish.  Give it to me, so that I may find him. I will rip out his throat with my bare hands.”

             
Her eyes widened.  She lifted her hand to her throat, straightening her shoulders as if the weight of years had fallen from them. 

             
“Morfran,” she spat the name, her voice so low he could barely hear her.  “Your uncle, the man you now defend Thorncliff against.  He was the one who raped me.  Your worst enemy fathered my son.”