Storms of Destiny (55 page)

I need the water closet.” It was not a lie. Her bladder suddenly felt full to bursting. She didn’t want to disgrace herself in front of him.

He shook her shoulder lightly. “You’re still lying, dear heart. What’s this all about?”

Ulandra gave a sudden twist, broke free, and headed for the door. She had to reach King Agivir with Eregard’s message!

With a wild lunge, Salesin threw himself off the bed and came after her. She heard his feet hit the floor, and redoubled her efforts, but her long, unbound hair betrayed her. He caught it, yanking her around to face him. “What happened just now? Tell me!”

Tears flooded her eyes, but her mouth was so dry she could not have spoken if she’d wanted to. Salesin slapped her, lightly but stingingly. “Tell me!” His grip on her hair made the skin of her face so taut she could hardly move her lips.

“Please, let me go!”

He open-palmed her on the ear. Pain lanced through her head, drew an arrow of agony from her cheekbone up into her eye.

“It … it was …” She was babbling and crying now as she tried to get the words out. “Please, Eregard on a ship …

there was a ship, I think … he sent a message …”

Two more stinging slaps stopped her. Her left eye was swelling; she could barely see out of it.

“You just have to have attention, don’t you?” he shouted.

“If you can’t get it, you tell lies, stupid lies about my brother who is
dead
, thank the Goddess! Bitch! Lying bitch!” With a roar, he shook her, then punched her in her chest. “What do you know of my brother! What nonsense is this? My brother is
dead
!”

Ulandra’s vision swam and she was barely able to stand.

“Please, my lord, no—”

Another blow … then another. Ulandra reeled, blackness closing in; the only thing keeping her on her feet was Salesin’s grip on her hair. He shook her, then punched her hard in the stomach. “You barren
bitch
! There’s nothing in there that could carry a child! I ought to throw
you
out that

window!” He stopped for a second, and she saw the anger recede, leaving a cold viciousness that was the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen. Her bladder released, and she felt warmth streaming down her legs.

Without another word, Salesin began dragging her toward the window, his hand locked in her hair.

I’m going to die,
Ulandra thought,
just like Wolf.
For a moment she felt nothing but resignation.
Anything would be
better than living like this, even death …

Without warning, she felt her legs stiffening, bracing against the pull. She cried out as Salesin jerked her hair, but her body did not seem to be fully under her control. Dizziness flooded her. Blackness as thick and impenetrable as smoke trickled into her mind. Her legs braced harder. She was being pulled past the huge armoire now, and she flung out a hand, caught the edge.

Ulandra’s good eye widened as she glimpsed her own hand. It was huge, dark, and what seemed to be talons suddenly sprouted from her fingertips. She tried to speak, but her mouth would not obey … it, too, was changing. Her teeth seemed too large for her face, and they hurt her lower lip. She tried to scream, but the sound she made was not human.

Goddess help me,
she thought, as that wave of hideous Otherness engulfed her.
Help me!
Then there was only the darkness, and she was falling into it …

Ulandra awoke to find herself sprawled on the floor of the bedchamber, her robe half torn off, her body so stiff, so aching, that she could scarcely force herself to move. She turned her head, and saw Salesin’s foot protruding from the other side of the bed.
Get out, get out before he wakes!

With a groan she couldn’t suppress, she managed to sit up. Looking down at her half nude body, she saw darkening bruises on her stomach and breasts. Her fingers told her that her face was swollen. Blood caked her chin and was smeared around her mouth.

Grabbing the bedpost, she managed to gain her feet, though the room swung around her sickeningly. She gripped the gilded wood and kept her eyes closed until the worst of the dizziness had passed.
How long was I unconscious?

Pulling her robe closed, she shuffled closer to her husband. He was lying on his back, one leg bent beneath him, his arms flung out like those of a doll tossed across the room. His face was even more bruised than her own, and the Princess could see scratches—actually, oozing gouges—as well as what appeared to be deep bites on his chest.

Dear Goddess, what happened to him? Who did this?

Ulandra remembered the blood around her mouth. She had a faint memory of talons erupting from her hand. She stared at her fingernails. Could that rust-colored substance be dried blood?

Salesin groaned aloud, then relapsed back into his swoon, or was it sleep? Ulandra could not tell. He was alive, and that was enough.

Who did this?

She swallowed, tasting blood.
He was hitting me …
She felt her head, and sure enough, there was a lump over her ear.
Blows to the head can cause hallucinations, everyone
knows that.

That vision must have been some trick of her mind, as she struggled to avoid being thrown to her death. There was no other rational explanation.

Ulandra dismissed the whole subject from her mind. Her fight with Salesin was over. She had to talk to King Agivir, to give him Eregard’s warning. An invasion …
Dear Goddess!

With shaking hands, she dragged on a loose day-gown.

Despite the sunshine streaming in the window, she couldn’t stop shivering, so she pulled a woolen shawl around her shoulders. With trembling hands, she washed the blood from her face and hands. She tied her hair over one shoulder, so it half hid her swollen eye.

She thought about wearing shoes, but she was so unsteady on her feet that she was afraid she’d fall, so she remained barefoot as she stole out of the silent suite and into the corridor.

As Ulandra moved down the hall toward the King’s apartments, one of her waiting women, Merindra, approached.

Seeing the Princess, she stopped and clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp of horror. Ulandra shook her head at Merindra. “Help me find the King,” she said. “I have a vital message for him.”

“Your Highness! What
happened
?”

“Help me, or go take care of Salesin, I don’t care which,”

Ulandra snapped, still moving.

It seemed a long walk, with Merindra twittering in distress beside her, but at least the woman did offer a strong young arm to support her faltering steps.

Finally they reached the entrance to the royal apartment.

Two guards stood with crossed pikes before the door, pistols in their belts.

“Your Highness!” one exclaimed, stepping forward.

“I
must
see the King,” Ulandra said, realizing her mouth was bleeding again. Little red spatters decorated the bosom of her day-gown. “I must see him immediately. I have information for him.”

“Your Highness, I will take him a message. Let your woman take you back to your rooms—”

Ulandra’s fragile control snapped. “I have to see the King!” she screamed, then lunged forward, pounding her fists on the door. “Please! King Agivir! Your Majesty!”

Both guards grabbed her, then Lady Merindra cried out and wrapped both arms around the largest, trying to pull him away. Both men grabbed Ulandra’s shawl, and she let it go.

With Lady Merinda scratching and clawing at his face, one of the guards tripped over his own feet and fell. The Princess flung herself forward again, landing full force against the door. The other guard grabbed her shoulder, and she heard her dress rip. As they began to drag her away, down the corridor, she shrieked at the top of her voice. “Please! Your Majesty!”

“What’s all this?” a voice bellowed from inside, and suddenly the doors opened. They saw the King with yet another royal guard inside. For once Agivir did not look distracted and melancholy—his eyes were alert and his voice held the ring of command. “What chances here? We demand an explanation for this uproar!”

All of them froze. Ulandra gave a great sob of relief and sank to her knees, her hands held out in supplication. “Your Majesty, I beg you, I have vital information. I must be allowed to speak!”

King Agivir made a peremptory gesture to the closest guard, who hastily handed Ulandra back her shawl. Then he made another gesture to the guards, who carefully helped Lady Merindra to her feet. “Speak you shall, daughter.

Come inside.” He looked at his own guard. “Leave us.”

With his own hands, he raised her. Ulandra staggered into the room, and he carefully seated her on a brocade couch, wrapped her shawl around her shivering shoulders, then sat on the matching ottoman before her, holding her hands.

“What happened to you? I will send my personal physician to you. Your face, daughter, who did this?”

She fought back a sob. “Your Majesty, I think you know.

But that is not important now. I can have the doctor later.

Right now, I must tell you what I know.”

His expression tightened, then, slowly, he nodded. “Very well. Tell me.”

Her voice shaking, Ulandra told him of her vision, and of how sure she was that the information was true. She put every bit of conviction she could manage into her voice. When he fetched paper and pen for her, she managed to sketch out a rough version of the map that had been on Eregard’s wall.

Agivir watched her, his faded eyes lighting with joy. “My son is alive? You truly believe he is alive?”

“Sire, I do.” She looked at him. “Have there been sight-ings of an invasion fleet?”

“I have not heard of any, but I will order the navy to put to sea, headed north. And I will instruct the army to prepare for invasion.”

“You believe me …” She was so grateful she nearly wept.

Raising his hands to her battered mouth, she kissed them reverently. “By all that is holy, I thank you, Your Majesty. I know not how Prince Eregard managed to contact me, but I

swear to you—I was inside his mind, seeing through his eyes, and it was truly he.”

Agivir nodded. “Yes, daughter. I believe you. I knew that someone would come today.”

Ulandra gazed at him in amazement. “You
knew
, sire?”

“In a manner of speaking, daughter. The new priest, Varlon, was here just this morning, and he read my stars. He told me that today would bring an important message, and I should pay heed to that message.”

Ulandra closed her eyes in relief. “I know him, sire. He has been teaching me how to sleep better, how to relax at night.”

The King gave her a searching glance, then reached up to gently touch her cheek. “My poor child, has this happened before?”

Ulandra nodded, too exhausted to dissemble. “Yes, sire.

Today was the worst, though.”

“Why did my son do this to you?”

Ulandra closed her eyes and swallowed. “I was on my way to come to you, but in my trance I had spoken aloud of Eregard. He demanded to know why. When I was reluctant to tell him, he was angry. Prince Salesin hates his brother, sire.

It is probably a good thing that he did not believe me.”

Agivir’s features sagged like old wax. “As I feared,” he whispered. “We did our best to raise him—what did we do wrong?”

The Princess felt her eyes fill with tears. They overflowed and spilled down her face, hot and stinging on her bruises.

“Sire …” She dared to reach out and take his hand again.

“You and Queen Elnorin are kind and decent people. But sometimes … sometimes children are born who do not take after either parent. You must not blame yourself. Both Prince Adranan and Prince Eregard are fine young men.”

“I know, but neither is the leader Salesin is,” the King replied with a sigh. “We will need him to lead the battle that is coming.”

Ulandra nodded. “Your Majesty, may I stay here tonight?

In the royal apartments? He is unlikely to look for me here. I could read to Her Majesty. Play the harp for her, perhaps.

She likes it when I do that. Her vision is not good, she will not notice my face.”

King Agivir stood up and nodded. His old shoulders were held as straight as he could manage, and there was again that look of command in his faded eyes. “Yes, daughter, do that. Her Majesty loves you like the daughter we never had.”

Ulandra slid off the divan and knelt. “Thank you, sire.”

The King put out a hand, rested it on top of her tumbled hair. “May the Goddess bless you, daughter. And may she bless Pela. I will send the doctor to you.”

Then, without another word, he strode away. Ulandra could hear him shouting for his messengers, for his generals, for his admirals. Sounds of running feet ensued.

Slowly, aching in every joint, Ulandra pulled herself back up onto the couch. She was cold and trembling, and at the thought of his hand atop her head, fresh tears welled up.

These moments of kindness after so many months of hatred and abuse were too much.
And Eregard is still alive, thank
the Goddess …
She pictured his face, round, youthful, and his soft, rounded, nonthreatening physique.
He loves me,
truly loves me,
she thought.
If only …

She began to weep softly then, careful not to disturb Queen Elnorin.