Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire) (29 page)

The man removed his cloak of gossamer, taking care to keep the hood securely over his head. Gwen watched him closely as he knelt and removed the invisible veil from the fallen woman.

“Can you go on?” he asked Emara.

Gwen pulled off her gossamer and knelt beside her mother-in-law. She brushed a strand of dirty hair out of the older woman’s face. Emara looked very ill, and was almost unconscious. “I don’t know if she can. We haven’t had any food and barely any water for days. She’s weak.”

“There’s a road about three miles away. Wyndham’s army is coming in on that road. We must get there as quickly as possible,” the man said. There was fear and urgency in his voice.

“I can’t,” Emara said weakly. “I can’t go on.”

“Well, I won’t leave you here,” the man said firmly, sweeping Emara up into his arms. She gave a squeak of protest, struggled a little, and then went limp. “Gwen, can you make it?”

Gwen’s eyes widened, and she gave him half a smile. She’d never seen anyone manhandle the old queen that way. Under other circumstances, Emara would have flayed him alive with her tongue just for
touching
her. She didn’t know who this man was—the hood he kept over his face was a little ominous—but she liked him.

“I can make it,” Gwen said, her smile lingering longer than it should have.

Chapter Thirty Three

R
ODERIC SAT TALL ON DELPHAS, riding with Bryce and King Stanis at the head of Wyndham’s army. They’d made it to Arianrhod in a little more than two days—a phenomenal feat. Along the way, more and more men had joined them until they were an army of about 40,000.

It was unbelievable to see the number of men trailing out behind them for miles. They had crossed into Arianrhod an hour past and were traveling along a dirt road in the cover of the forest until they could get closer to the village.

Roderic was pulled from his musings as Bryce’s horse reared and almost threw him off.

Directly in the middle of the road in front of them stood a man dressed in brown, a hood pulled over his head. Everyone came to a dead stop as Bryce struggled to get his mount under control.

“State your business or move out of the way!” Stanis ordered, his own horse skittering about.

The man stood his ground, feet slightly apart, arms crossed in front of him.

Roderic knew in an instant who stood before them. He rode forward to Stanis. “I think I may know this man.”

Roderic dismounted and walked to him. “We’ll take back Arianrhod this day. We owe you our thanks. And that’s a damn fine horse you gave me.” He extended a hand. The hooded man hesitated for a moment, and then gripped his hand tightly.

“I didn’t give her to you. We’ll have some negotiating to do, but I think we can come to a suitable agreement.” Roderic couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the smile.

“Why are you standing in the middle of the road?” demanded Bryce.

“I’ve brought you a gift.” The man beckoned to something hidden in the trees along the road. Gwen and Emara stepped out next to him and faced the men. They were filthy, their gowns torn, and they looked exhausted, but they were alive.

Bryce leapt off his horse and swept his mother up in a hug so fierce that Roderic thought surely her bones would break. Gwen’s small body shook with sobs as she embraced the son she hadn’t seen for almost eleven years.

Stanis dismounted, pulled his sister into his arms and held her tightly. After making sure there were no serious injuries, they took both women to the rear of the column and put them safely in the care of one of the medics.

“How did you happen to come by them?” Roderic asked. “The last I knew, everyone was safely in the cave under the manor house.”

“Jariath found the cave sometime after you left for Wyndham. Maeve and Devin had been out for a walk when Jariath arrived. He took Gwen and Emara captive. Devin and the girl made their way to us. Aislin was delighted to see them both.”

Roderic blew out a breath of relief. “Where is Aislin?”

“She was with me, but she was taken while we were in the dungeon. It’s imperative that I find her quickly. I was hoping I could ride with you to Arianrhod.” The man took a shaky breath. “It’s the fastest way...”

“Taken? Taken by whom?” Roderic asked, alarmed. “Please tell me Jariath didn’t...”

“No, not Jariath, but she’s in danger nonetheless. If you’ll just permit me to ride with you...”

“Why do you keep your face hidden?” Bryce asked. “If you expect to ride with us, I insist that you show yourself.”

The hooded man didn’t move. Roderic could sense the man had mixed feelings about revealing himself. Then slowly, hesitantly, he reached up, took hold of the hood, and dropped it down to his shoulders.

Roderic’s eyes widened in shock, and he heard a stunned gasp escape from Stanis.

Bryce took a step back, his hand on his sword. “What is your name? What manner of man are you?” he demanded.

Taking a slight bow, he said, “I am Tristan, chieftain of the Sylvan people of Blackthorne Forest.”

“You’re an elf!” blurted an astonished Roderic. Tristan nodded, his face impassive. “I thought they’d gone extinct long ago in these lands!”

Bryce stepped forward and grabbed Tristan’s hand. “You’ve saved my mother and grandmother. I call you friend.” Tristan looked surprised, but grinned at the boy.

“Come! Saddle up! We’ve got work to do!” Stanis called to his men. He then spoke directly to Tristan, who had swung himself up onto Delphas behind Roderic. “Do all that you can to find Aislin. She is the heart of this family.”

Chapter Thirty Four

A
ISLIN INHALED SHARPLY AS HER eyes fluttered open. She was lying face down, her cheek flattened against cool stone. Her left arm was pinned under her at a painful angle. Every bone in her body felt like it was broken.

Wha...?

She dimly remembered struggling with someone in the dark somewhere, but her head was pounding. Trying to remember made it worse.

Where am I?

She blinked and tried to focus. Her eyes fell on a thin red trickle of something running past her nose on the floor in front of her. Still groggy, she slowly tilted her head upward, curious about the source of the rivulet.

Her eyes met the cold, dead eyes of Duff, just inches from hers. She scrambled to her feet with a strangled scream.

The movement was much faster than her drugged brain was willing to permit, and she staggered a little before falling to her knees in front of him. The sickening stench of blood and butchered flesh filled her nostrils. She lifted the back of her hand to her mouth, closed her eyes, and willed herself not to vomit.

Even with her eyes closed, the image was burned into her brain.

Duff was on his belly, his throat sliced open from ear to ear, and he was lying in a puddle of his own blood. It pooled in a large red stain of gore under his head and ran slowly in a trickle past where Aislin had been laying. He stared straight ahead, his green eyes unseeing, his mouth open in a soundless scream.

Feeling the wave of nausea subside a little, she opened her eyes. Her eyes caught a flash of silver, and she lifted her gaze beyond his body. Her pike was lying on the floor just past him. The memory of what had happened in the dungeon slowly came back to her in bits and pieces.

He grabbed me. There was something on the rag... I heard him laugh. Duff...I knew..
.

Breathless and shaking, she got to her feet, struggling to make sense of it all. How had he found her? And why was he dead?

It was only then that she looked around. The tapestries, the cut and color of the stone in the walls, the purple carpet all looked strangely familiar to her.

Eyes wide, mouth open, she felt a chill tease her spine. She was in the throne room of the manor house at Arianrhod!

“You do seem to have an interesting effect on men, Aislin.”

She closed her eyes, a painful breath caught in her throat. That voice.

No. Please...no
.
Let it be anybody but...

Aislin slowly turned around.

Jariath was sitting sideways on her father’s throne with his long muscular legs draped over one arm of the ornate oak chair. The lazy, predatory smile he had on his face gave her cold chills.

A thousand thoughts collided like comets. Only one formed and stuck:
Where is Tristan?

Drawing short, sharp breaths through her nose and fighting the urge to break and run, Aislin stared at him. She needed answers, but she had to make sure she asked the right questions. Jariath was a master at picking up the nuances of voice and expression. She knew she would get a thorough interrogation from him regarding the dead elf on the floor, but first, she had to find out how much Jariath knew. Until she did, she was afraid she would betray that there was more to this situation than met the eye.

“How did I get here?” she asked cautiously, hoping her face was a blank mask of surprise.

“My soldiers caught this person just outside the village, with you hanging limp over his shoulder. He just appeared out of thin air. He was as surprised to see my men as they were to see him.”

Aislin stood still, wary, trying to read him. She was numb with terror for Tristan, more than for herself. Had Duff known that Tristan was in the lower dungeon with her? Had he told Jariath? How had Duff gotten into the manor house in the first place?

“I really hated to kill him, but he came to me with such a nasty attitude, insisting you belonged to him, and I had no right to you. Fool! He didn’t live long in my presence, I can assure you. I certainly wasn’t about to let him take you away from me.” Jariath slid his muscular body off the throne. She tensed as he began to stalk in her direction.

“Did you know he was an elf? I thought they were long gone. The question is: why was he carrying you off? How would someone like
him
, know someone like
you
?” Jariath turned accusing eyes to her, and she momentarily stopped breathing.

“I don’t... know what you mean.”

He pulled a jeweled silver dagger out of his boot and was at her side in several long strides, pressing the length of the blade to the side of her throat.

“Where have you been?”

If you only knew
, her mind laughed.

Jariath was practically standing on top of her, so close that his breath ruffled her hair. Aislin went completely still, staring at the floor.

He ran his knuckles over her right cheek. She knew he’d noticed the bruise that lingered there—a souvenir of her first encounter with the dead elf at her feet.

“Who hit you?” he murmured in her ear.

“No...no one hit me. I...I...fell,” she said in the barest whisper.

He growled and moved the tip of the dagger until it was under her chin. He used the sharp point to slowly raise her gaze to his.

The terror and desperation she felt the night Duff took her came crashing back. There was too much emotion in her eyes, and she knew it. She attempted to drop her head, but she couldn’t do it without impaling herself on the dagger.

Jariath’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head as he studied her. She knew he didn’t believe a word she’d said.

He laid the razor sharp edge of the dagger parallel to her jaw. She swallowed hard.

“Are you lying to me, you little bitch?” He moved the knife a fraction, and she felt the sting of the blade as it bit into her skin.

“Why would I lie to you?”

He was just inches from her, staring into her face, using his massive body to intimidate her. His blue eyes glittered as he probed her gaze. She stared back, fascinated, as his irises began to pulse and throb.

She got very light-headed as she focused on his eyes, as though she were being driven from her own body. She’d gotten the same feeling during the nightmare she’d had about him in Blackthorne Forest. He was stealing her will, absorbing her into him,
taking
her from herself, and she was powerless...helpless...to stop him.

Fight back! Fight back, damn you!
the far recesses of her brain demanded.

Why fight?
her conscious self responded.
He’s bigger, stronger. He wins. You lose.

She felt drowsy, languid, weak as a kitten as he twisted her will away from her with his eyes. It took tremendous effort, but she pushed...literally
pushed
...him out of her mind and back into his own peculiar madness, where he belonged.

An expert in the construction of brick walls, she now threw up several. It was imperative that she keep him out of her head if she were going to have any chance at all.

He reacted physically to whatever it was that had passed between them. As she slammed the door on him in her thoughts, he jerked, blinked, and narrowed his eyes until they were dark slits in his face.

You bitch,
he mentally hissed at her.
Why do you resist? Do you really think you can beat me?

I don’t know
, she silently fired back.
You scare me to death, but I’ve since grown claws. I’m going to fight you with the last breath in my body.

“I think it’s very interesting that the two of you are wearing the same type of clothing. Was he your lover?” he said out loud, shaking her from her stupor.

“Think what you like. You’re wrong.”

Jariath laughed, but the effect was that of a panther purring before it kills. He dropped several soft, butterfly kisses on the bruise. “I promise no one will ever see the bruises I inflict on you. They will be between you and me, in places only I will see.”

Aislin shivered violently. The nausea came back with a vengeance.

“I can feel you shaking. I can smell the fear on you. It excites me,” he said softly.

“That makes you sick and sadistic, Jariath. You must be proud.”

He glared at her for several seconds. Aislin held his stare and willed him to do it.
Just shove the damn blade through my neck, and be done with it!

Instead, he laughed and released her.

“I can see that life with you is never going to be dull. We’ll discuss this later, and you’ll tell me where you were and what you know about the elf. For right now, I think I’ll just enjoy the fact that I have you where I want you. You belong to
me
now.”

The words, and the assurance with which he said them, spoke to every nightmare she’d ever had about him. Despite the fear, a small flame of determination flickered to life within her.

Somehow, I have to get my hands on that pike.

“I wonder if you know how much pleasure I’m going to take in making you beg. All those times that you made a fool out of me...”

“You didn’t need any help from me in
that
regard,” she blurted
.

Jariath leaned in to whisper in her ear, his hand caressing the nape of her neck. “Ever defiant, aren’t you? I’ve tolerated your arrogance in the past, Aislin, but now you must learn respect. Teaching you is going to be the greatest pleasure of my life. I’ll be taking you back to Morrigan with me after I secure the lands here, and you’ll be grateful to know that your mother will be accompanying us.”