Unicorn Bait (3 page)

The cook began to bustle around the room again. “It sounds nice, but you’re here now, and the day is growing old, and I have to get you ready for the ceremony, and you will be ready, no matter where you think you are from. It doesn’t matter. Only now does. Accept it.” Naomi was surprised by Yula’s sudden harshness.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just accept your lot. It’ll be easier if you do. Now slip this on." She held out a long simple gown of white. Naomi took it to feel the fabric. The action of taking another gown in this room made her cautious.

There was a tap at the door. Yula went to answer it. She stepped outside and left Naomi alone. She rose and went back to the window to stare at the two moons. The gown, most likely her wedding gown, hung from her hands. She shifted the fabric until her right hand was free. She brought the tip of her finger to her face. Faintly, she could see a red prick. She rubbed her thumb against the tiny wound. That little pin prick was how she got here.

She could hear Yula on the other side of the door. She was speaking to someone, and the voice sounded familiar. The voice was deep and a bit scratchy, and it didn’t sound happy.

The door flew open, and Tavik strode in. Yula followed at his heels. Naomi jumped back. The white gown slipped from her hands to puddle at her feet. She wondered if she should pick it up, but then reasoned it didn’t matter. She probably wouldn’t need it.

“How do you know Agatha?” he demanded.

She flinched at his accusative tone and edged away. “She tricked me into coming here and putting on this gown.”

“Tricked you how?”

She picked at a seam of a sleeve. “I was being attacked by this soldier, and she knocked him out with a frying pan. She told me to follow her to a safe place and that’s how I ended up here. She gave me the gown to put on saying it would be a disguise, and not really thinking, I did what she said.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

She head jerked up. She stared into the eye holes of his mask. “I don’t know what you’ll believe. All I know is what happened.”

He stood silently staring at her, at least it felt like he was staring at her. She began to fidget in earnest. “If you’re not Lady Naomi, where is she?”

She plucked at her sleeves. She really wished she were in her sweatshirt and jeans. She felt like an idiot arguing in the gown: Her ‘disguise’. She wondered what had happened to her clothes. “I don’t know. I never met her. I’d never heard of her until everyone assumed I was her. I’m not her.”

“You look like her.”

Her eyes shot to him. “What?”

He snorted. “Yes, Lady Naomi,” he drawled.

“I’m not her!” She stamped her foot in frustration. Tavik crossed his arms. This wasn't bothering him at all. He didn't care. He'd kill her or marry her. Whichever. Why didn't this matter to him?

“Have you made your choice?”

Her hands clenched into fists. “Choice?” she echoed.

“Between death or marriage.”

“But I’m not Lady Naomi!” She knew this argument wasn’t getting her anywhere, and the thought made her sick.

“The preparations are almost complete.”

She turned her eyes to Yula, but the serving woman was not going to help her. She was standing by with the damned wedding gown ready for her.

“What can I do to make you believe me?” she pleaded.

“Nothing.”

“You’re going to kill me if I don’t marry you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To cement my victory. You must either die or be taken by me.”

His use of the word ‘taken’ made her stomach churn.

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why does this Lady Naomi matter? You’ve clearly won. Just let me go.”

“Because that's not how it's done. My victory will not be complete unless the lord’s lady is either married to me or killed.”

“If I weren’t here, what would you do? Would you grab some poor girl off the street and call her Lady Naomi?”

He didn’t reply.

“Madam, just do as you’re told. It’ll go better for you,” Yula said.

“But I’m not her.”

“You’re either her or the poor girl off the street I call Lady Naomi and then kill. It’s your choice.”

She froze. She didn’t really like either option, and it was her big mouth that had put that second, even less appealing, option on the table.

“What if we compromise?” she asked.

“What?”

Yula stared at her in disbelief.

“I’ll marry you if we agree on one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“No sex.”

Yula dropped the wedding gown.

She really hoped she hadn’t just pissed him off so bad he beheaded her on the spot. She stared at him and waited. Without comment, he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room. Yula scrambled to gather the wedding gown and followed at his heels.

Naomi tried to stop him or at least slow him down, but her slipper-ed feet slid along the stone floor.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!”

“Lord Tavik, she’s not properly dressed!”

He ignored both of them and continued to drag her down the corridor toward the hall. She struggled as best she could. She kicked out at his feet to trip him up and pried at his fingers. All she seemed to do was annoy him.

He stopped and turned to her.

“So I guess you’re just going to kill me. Is that it? Well, I hope you rot in hell!”

Without a word, he picked her up and put her over his shoulder.

“Now, wait a minute!”

He began down the corridor again. Her weight didn’t seem to faze him at all. 

“Put me down!”

He still ignored her. She tried to kick him, but he wrapped his other arm over her legs and pinned them to his chest. It was murder to keep her back arched and not go limp and hang down his back. She dug her elbows into his shoulder blades to help support her. She hoped it was bothering him, but he didn’t shift her or do anything to indicate discomfort. When they entered the hall, all the soldiers fell silent. She frantically looked around the room for someone to help her, but all eyes were on Tavik.

“Someone tell him I’m not Lady Naomi, please!”

No one stepped forward.

He stepped onto the dais and finally put her down. Three men in robes were there already beside a lit brazier. They had the dour expressions of officiating priests. Tavik held her upper arm in a vice like grip. She quickly understood why as she watched one of the priests pull a branding rod out of the brazier. The brand glowed red. It was a picture of Tavik’s mask. The priest stepped toward her. Her eyes widened.

“What the hell? This is how you people get married?”

Tavik jerked her close to him and growled. “You will wear my brand and all will know you belong to me.”

“That's sick. Let me go!”

He shook her by the arm. “You will do this.” His voice was harsh.

Her eyes couldn’t leave the priest who stood waiting with the rod. He let her go, and she stumbled back.

She looked around the room at the crowd of impassive soldiers. “No, this is insanity. You people are barbarians. I will not do this!”

“You will do this, or you will die.”

“And if I let you do this, what happens next? What else are you going to do to me? There are worse things than death.”

He reached out and jerked her to him again. She looked up into his grisly helm. When she was that close, she could just make out his eyes. They were blue.

“I promise you that this will be the worst that you will suffer. After this, you will have my protection. You will be my wife.”

His assurance made her laugh. His wife! Oh yes, everything would be lovely if she’d just married this guy. It was better than death!

“Just do this, Naomi, please,” he whispered.

The plea surprised her. She stopped resisting to think a moment. She averted her eyes from the priest and the glowing branding iron. Could she go along with this? Did she have a choice?

“What about the deal?”

His grasp tightened on her arm, and he pulled her forward. She tried to stop him, but he was like a moving mountain. Her feet dragged across the floor. He handed her over to two of the priests, who each took an arm. They held onto her with stone-faces. This was not happening. She was not here. “No,” she kept saying over and over, but no one was listening to her. The head priest handed Tavik the branding iron. Her eyes widened.

“No, please no, don’t do this!”

He showed no indication that he was listening to her. The priests ripped open the sleeve her left arm. One took position at her back, holding her by the shoulders while another stretched out her arm toward Tavik. She couldn't get away. She didn't have a chance. When the iron touched her arm just above her wrist, she screamed. She had never been hurt like this before in her life. She had never broken a bone or cut herself so badly as to need stitches. This then was the absolute worst physical experience of her life. The pain was so intense she saw large black spots. Only the priests’ wooden arms kept her from collapsing. Everything was leeching gray. She tried not to think about the new smell in the air that made her want to retch. Dimly she was aware of being moved around. An arm went around her waist and another under her knees that lifted her. She looked up into the grisly helm of Lord Tavik.

“You bastard,” she whispered and passed out.

Chapter 3

Unicorns mate for life.

Naomi resurfaced unwillingly. She was lying on a bed on her stomach. She didn’t know how long she’d been out, but it didn’t feel like long enough. Her arm ached. The brand shot pain out in a steady throb.

From her right, she heard Tavik say, “Why hasn’t she awakened yet?”

Yula’s voice came from her other side. “She’ll be fine. She’s just had a few too many shocks is all. She just needs a little rest.”

Naomi couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped when she felt a cool balm spread across the branding mark. There was no hiding her consciousness now. She let out a low groan from under her curtain of hair. She tried to rise and hissed in pain.

“Lay still,” Yula ordered.

She let herself collapse. “My day can’t get any worse, can it?”

She turned her head, and through her hair, she looked at Tavik sitting by her bedside. “Oh, my mistake. The day isn’t even half over, and you have all sorts of wedding day festivities planned. What’s next—thumb screws or Chinese water torture?”

He leaned forward. “Remember the deal you proposed?”

She nodded.

“I accepted.”

Her eyes widened.

“Then why didn’t you say so?”

He rose and left without answer. He’d accepted her deal. What did that mean? He wouldn’t have sex with her, but what else might he do to her? She turned and looked at the cook. She was carefully dipping a cloth into a basin of water.

“What do you make of that?”

The cook shook her head. “The affairs of man and wife should remain between man and wife.”

“You really think we're man and wife? More like man and cattle. That's the only thing we brand where I'm from.”

*          *          *

Naomi stood at the window in a light trance. The two moons shone down on her in the night sky. Her arm was bandaged, and she'd changed into another dress. Yula had been her constant companion. They hadn't said much to each other, but if she hadn't been there, Naomi would've jumped out that window.

Yula could rouse her if she spoke to her, but if silent, her gaze would float back to the night sky without focus. Yula had expressed worry that her dazed behavior was due to her injuries and shock, but she had assured her that she was fine. She’d told her that she just had a lot on her mind but that had been a lie.

She did not have ‘a lot’ on her mind. All she could think about was how she would get home, and she had no idea. She didn't understand how she'd arrived there, so couldn't fathom how to reverse it. She wanted to go home. She wanted her one bedroom apartment back. She wanted to go to her bank teller job. She wanted her family. She quickly veered away from thoughts of her family in fear of tears. It wouldn’t do to break down. She didn’t want to distress the cook. She turned her mind back to thinking about how she would go home, and her mind went blank again.

Yula gathered her mending and stood. Naomi’s eyes barely flicked to her direction at the woman’s movement.

“I am retiring now. Lord Tavik should be with you shortly. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

“I guess Lord Tavik has to stay here for appearance’s sake, huh?”

She nodded her head. She didn’t look comfortable.

“What is it, Yula?”

She averted her eyes, but straightened her shoulders. “You asked for my thoughts earlier, and I wasn't sure what to say, and I'm still not sure, but I have to say this, Lord Tavik is not exactly a cruel lord, but he’s a lord and used to getting whatever he wants, and this agreement of yours—I’m not sure how much weight it has. I mean what reason does he have to keep it? Not that I am questioning my lord’s word, but…”

“I think he'll keep his word. He didn't have to agree to get me on the altar.” She ran her fingers lightly over the bandage.

“But why would he agree to not bed you? It makes no sense.”

“Does he have a mistress or someone he sees regularly?”

She shook her head. “No one I know of. I've never seen him take up with any woman actually.”

Their speculation didn't seem to be getting them anywhere. “Well, we'll just have to wait and see.”

“I'll keep an ear out for you. Call me if you need anything.” The way she said that made Naomi think of screams and bandages. 

After Yula left, Naomi stared out the window. She was obsessed with the sky. The moons above inspired revulsion, but she couldn’t stop staring at them. She'd decided that the red one looked like a giant, angry potato while the yellow one looked like a boiled egg. They must torment the hungry. She wasn’t hungry. She wasn’t cold. In fact, after the ‘wedding’, she couldn’t help curling her lip whenever she thought of it in that term, she’d had a quiet day. She’d taken a nap for most of the afternoon, and when she'd woken, she’d eaten a thick stew. It had been quite tasty, and the cook had seemed very pleased when she complimented it. No one else had been to the room, and the activity outside had quieted.

She turned away from the window and went to the hearth. How was she supposed to get home? Who could possibly help her? Her mind went blank at the questions and she slipped a little further into desolation. She forced herself away from the window and took herself to the fireplace. She picked up a fire poker and began jabbing the red embers, stirring up sparks. She didn't know what she was doing, but she needed something to do. When she heard the door unlock, she jabbed the poker harder into the embers. 

“It's not good to stir a fire too much,” Tavik said from the chamber doorway.

She straightened from the fireplace and watched smoke waft off the poker. It suddenly reminded her of the branding iron. She wanted to drop it, but the thought of him picking up another piece of burning hot metal near her was terrifying. She turned to face him with it shaking minutely in her hand. The first thing she noticed, and would probably continue to notice for some time, was that he had the skull helm on. For some reason, she began to think about others who regularly wore masks: robbers, serial killers, rapists, monsters, vigilantes, opera singers. She really doubted he sang or protected innocent people in the night, but she wasn't sure of anything else.  

“Is something wrong?”

The question jerked a laugh out of her. “Wrong? What could be wrong?” 

Her grip tightened on the fire poker as he crossed the room, but he went past the bed to take a seat at the small table. He relaxed in the chair with his legs crossed and one arm resting on the table. Her hand was starting to ache from the fire poker.

“I think we have much to discuss,” he said.

She cocked her head to the side. “Discuss what?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders and slumped back in his chair. “We could begin with your claim that you are not Lady Naomi. Do you still hold to that?”

She nodded.

“But your name is Naomi.”

She nodded again. She understood fully now why Agatha had stopped in her tracks when she’d given her name. The plan had probably begun to form then.

“You say you were brought here by trickery.”

She nodded again.

“And the witch’s name was Agatha.”

Tired of glumly nodding, she ventured, “It seems like you know her.”

“Yes, and if I find out that you are in collusion with her, your punishment will be absolute.”

“Believe me, I only met her today.”

“Tell me your story.”

She raised her eyebrows at the request. Surprised he was willing to listen. “I’m not from here. I’m from a very far away place. I don’t know how I got here. I was attacked by a soldier, and Agatha helped me fight him off. She brought me here and put me in that gown. I trusted her because she helped me with Hammond and there was no one else. Then all of this happened.”

“How do you think you came here?”

For as ridiculous as it seemed to her, she was sure it was the unicorn horn, but she wasn't about to tell him that. “I don’t know.”

“But Agatha brought you to the castle.”

“Led me here like a stupid, sacrificial lamb.”

“Why do you think she did that?”

She shrugged. “She said she’d gotten all the women and children away safely already, but that all the ways were blocked. I guess she was lying. She sure didn’t get me away or safe.”

“My men think you are the Lady Naomi. You will let them continue to think that. If you try to escape, you will be punished. If Agatha tries to contact you, I want to know about it immediately. I don’t think she is done with you. And I have unfinished business with her.”

"Why do you want everyone to think I’m her?"

"Because this is over if I have Lady Naomi. I can return to my fortress victorious, and everything settles down for a while."

"What about the real Lady Naomi? What if she turns up?"

"If she has any sense about her, she’ll go very far away and change her name. She knows what will happen if I find her."

She didn't have any reply to that.

"Do you have any other questions?"

"Like what?"

"If you are new to this land, you must have questions."

Her brow knitted. “I don’t know if I want to know anything more about this place. Everything I’ve learned so far has been rather unpleasant.”

“That is probably true, but do you want to be taken by surprise again?”

She caught his drift. “All right, what exactly am I supposed to do as your wife, other than what we agreed to exempt me from?”

He chuckled at the not so subtle reminder of their agreement. “Other than that, you are supposed to follow any order that I give you and tend to me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Well, that is very vague and blanketing. How am I supposed to ‘tend’ to you?”

He raised a hand to rub one of his shoulders. He tilted his head and thought a moment. “You tend to me by looking after my home, being available to entertain guests, and a massage would not be out of the ordinary.”

“A massage?” she said flatly.

He nodded. “Yes, one now would be nice.”

Her mouth dropped open. She could not believe him. He motioned her over. Taking the fire poker with her, she hesitantly stepped across the room.

“Naomi,” he said. He held out his hand. She reluctantly placed the fire poker in his palm. He set it on the floor. She took position at his back. He dropped his head and waited. She nervously cracked her knuckles and rubbed her hands together to stall for a few seconds, but soon her hands were loose and ready, and if she took much longer, he was likely to say something. She put her hands on his shoulders and began to knead the muscles.

The only person that she could recall ever giving shoulder massages to was her father. The thought of him made her hands still for a moment. She hadn't spoken to him for a week, and now she was stuck here. She wondered if he and the rest of her family knew she was gone yet and what they thought. The worry they were experiencing was probably awful. She hated the thought that they were searching for her right now and fearing her dead.

“My shoulders are still knotted.”

She jumped slightly at the sudden interruption of her thoughts which made the tears that had gathered spill. She began working the muscles again and cried silently. It was all right. No one could see her.

She kneaded Tavik’s shoulders as instructed. There was a large scar on one of them. She worked her thumb into it and heard him sigh at the action. Her father had encouraged her to become a masseuse. He said her hands were magic on his shoulders. She’d always laughed it off. She couldn’t imagine giving strangers massages. It’d seemed too personal. She wondered if she’d ever see her dad again.

A tear hit Tavik’s neck. Before she could wipe it away, he reached back and brushed his hand over the spot. He brought his hand to his face and looked at the moisture smeared across his fingers. A sniffle escaped her. He twisted round to look at her. Another tear slipped down her cheek. She lifted her hand and wiped it off.

“What’s wrong?”

A sardonic smile twisted her lips. “You keep asking that, and the answer is everything.”

He waved for her to sit. When she took a seat, she hunched over and let her hair fall forward. She had to keep it together. It wouldn’t do to completely loose it. Blubbering was not going to endear her to him, but she really wanted to cry. She scrubbed her face and pushed back her hair to reface him. He still sat in his chair with his mask pointed at her. It was like sitting with the grim reaper. He was humanoid but devoid of humanity.

“Do you really have to wear that thing?”

His back stiffened slightly, but he merely nodded. She slumped at his response. She folded her arms across her stomach. 

“I wish I were home,” she said. She smirked to herself and clicked her heels together three times while whispering for each click, “There’s no place like home.”

When she looked back over at him, she couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her. He just sat there! No fidgeting. No shrugging. Nothing. With the helm on, he was faceless. Emotionless. She was miserable, and he just sat across from her. No comfort. No consolation. No connection. She’d feel better if she were alone.