Crimson's Captivation (14 page)

Five minutes later, Viktor returned to the
building on horseback, holding the reins of his men’s horses in his
hands. He was relieved to find them waiting and ready. “We move.
Saddle up,” he ordered as he tossed the reins toward them.

The men mounted their horses and Viktor shot
off out of the village. His horses’ lungs bellowed out warm breaths
that sat on the cool air as a vapor trail behind him. The men
followed and they galloped across the frost-covered land towards
Stockholm.

Chapter IV

~ Profound Attraction ~

Darya, still fuming from the lashing, jerked
away from her caretaker and stepped into the bathing pool. The
warmth of the water felt good on her cold skin, but stung the
streaks the lash had left on her bottom. She closed her eyes and
mentally traced the stings and relived each lash’s roll over her
cheeks. The first was oddly exciting. The second was pure
punishment. She ducked her head underneath the water and screamed
out in part anger, part frustration and humiliation.
Odd,
she thought. There was a sense of pride in her humiliation. As if
she had finally stood her ground.

The caretaker, intent on carrying out her
orders, collected a sponge and some rose oil, then entered the pool
with Darya. She sponged the warm water of the pool over Darya’s
shoulder.

“What is your name?” Darya asked softly.

The caretaker didn’t immediately respond. The
question was something she never contemplated an answer to and it
caught her off guard. Something she had never expected to be asked,
certainly not by a royal member of the house. She moved behind
Darya and brought the sponge to the nape of Darya’s neck, “My name
is Adile, my lady.” The warm water streamed past Darya’s shoulder
blades and dripped into the waist high water.

“Adile,” Darya resounded the name. She let it
slowly roll of her tongue. “It’s a beautiful name. Do you have a
man, Adile?”

Adile cleared her throat, “My lady, I think
it best I bathe you and cleanse your wounds.”

Darya reached over her shoulder and grabbed
Adile’s wrist. She pulled Adile onto her back and wrapped Adile’s
arm around her chest, over her collarbone. The moment instantly
became intimate and close, like two girlfriends consoling one
another. “I take your refusal to answer as a yes, Adile. Does he
love you? Does he bring you gifts on bad days and good days?
Especially on bad days?”

“He loves me and brings me lovely gifts, my
lady,” Adile answered, almost a whisper in Darya’s ear.

“Do you feel a wonderful vulnerability when
you’re with him?”

“I do, I suppose. But it’s a safe
vulnerability, a deep connection of trust.”

Darya sighed. “So you can show him when
you’re lonely, tell him secrets, all in the strictest confidence. I
envy that. Is he a good man? A good lover?”

Adile tittered at the question, and felt
sorry for the young girl. She sensed where the conversation was
going. “He’s good enough. Why these questions, my lady?”

Darya rocked back and forth, still holding
Adile’s arm in place and Adile rocked with her. “Have you ever had
enough, just couldn’t take the loneliness anymore? I’m eighteen
years old and have been waiting for love since I was fifteen. I
read
La Belle au bios dormant
a year or so ago. Do you know
the story?”

“Not sure that I do, my lady.”

“It’s a lovely tale. You see, fairies offer
gifts: beauty, wit, and musical talent at a baptism of a princess.
But there is a wicked fairy, too. She harbors scorn because she was
not invited to the baptism and places the princess under a
curse.”

“A curse? My, what was it?” Adile asked as
she started bathing Darya again, somewhat relieved Darya had
stopped asking her personal questions.

“That she would prick her finger on a spindle
of the spinning wheel of death and die.”

“Oh, my. Yes, we have a similar folk tale.
There is truth there, you know.”

“Truth? How is that, Adile?”

“Boys and girls change, my lady. I recall
playing games with the boys of my village when I was younger. Not a
care in the world. Then one day, one boy’s smile, one that I had
seen hundreds of times before—it brought new feelings to the
surface, as if I had awakened from a dream, a transformation that
exposed a new spirit within me. The princess in the story is
released from the curse by a prince, right?”

“Yes,” Darya answered. “One good fairy is
left and she partially reverses the wicked fairy’s curse so that
the princess falls into a deep sleep for one hundred years. Then a
prince braved the forest to find her asleep in a castle. Enamored
with her beauty, he fell to his knees at the sight of her. He
kissed her and she woke up. Adile, I feel as though I just woke up
from a long dream. What happened between Sergen and I was so
unexpected. It was the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt.”

Darya cupped water from the pool into her
hands and guided it to her hair and face; it flowed across a woman
in deep thought. “When Sergen and I were together, fire flowed
through every inch of me. My breaths escaped as soft pants and
every muscle wilted. It was something I’ve never felt before and it
overcame me. It was captivating, as if we were exchanging and
sharing our souls. I told him that I loved him. And as sure as I
breathe, I meant every word of it.”

“I see,” Adile said, “but the countess has
forbidden it, my lady. And she is to be feared and her orders
honored. We should speak no more of this lest you become too brave
for your own good.” Adile stood and exited the pool. She returned
with a botanical mixture of willow bark, bloodroot, and jimsonweed.
“It is late. We should cleanse the lash marks and prepare you for
bed.”

Darya slanted her body across the pool’s
edge, the cool air again reminded her of the punishment when it
rolled over her exposed buttocks and traced the outline of the lash
marks. Adile hummed as she rubbed the mixture over Darya’s bottom.
The marks were superficial and would leave no permanent scar, but
Adile wondered if they were enough to stop the young girl’s love.
She thought not.

* * * *

Later that night, Darya couldn’t sleep. She
lifted herself up on her elbows in bed and listened to the wind
thrash through the courtyard below, outside her window. It snatched
the rope that still hung from the lashing structure and battered it
against the wooden frame, an eerie reminder of the lashings she and
Sergen had received earlier. She could still feel the burn of the
strap on her bottom and grimaced when she rotated on her side.

For no particular reason, she stood, made her
way, and parted the curtains of her window. The night had deepened
to the pitch of black velvet. The moon hung high in the sky, but
heavy cloud cover casted sinister shadows of darkness that danced
in the courtyard. The clouds flew by on a westerly wind, and the
moon’s dim light danced briefly on the ground, as if large wicked
draperies flapped between the moon and the earth. She had played in
that courtyard since she was a child, but this night it was so dark
at times that she had to depict it more from her memory, rather
than the outlines she saw shifting in the stirring moonlight.

Then she saw her, sneaking, creeping.

The figure entered from the far left on the
courtyard. She inched along the courtyard’s walls toward the exit.
A figure, it was difficult to tell, but Darya was sure it was Sena.
Then the wind acted up again and cut through the thin fabric of the
white robe of the moonlit figure. It lifted the robe on invisible
drafts and when the moon shown, it made her look almost ghostlike
as the long robe fluttered behind her. And then a highlight on the
figure’s olive colored skin across her forehead and cheeks caught
the highlights of her long ebony hair and Darya knew it was
Sena.

Darya lit a candle and snuck from her room,
down toward the captive chambers. She slowly opened the door and
saw that her man, Sergen, was in place and in deep sleep. He looked
so sexy just lying there on his side, his firm buttocks exposed in
the light of her candle. She felt bad for him when the candlelight
flickered over the strap marks. They stood proud on his skin and
she wanted to comfort him. She wanted to snuggle up next to him and
kiss him. She watched him for several minutes. He didn’t move, just
the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed steadily. She
knew that just on the other side, concealed, was inches and inches
of a man. She secretly hoped he was dreaming of her as she quietly
closed the door.

Further investigation of the other chambers
revealed that Crimson and Uric were in place, but Sena, as she
expected, was missing. Crimson was sound asleep, her light colored
hair draped over her shoulders and covering her round breasts.
Uric, even sleeping, seemed to be uneasy and stirred when the
candle’s light landed on his face. The palace was silent, so quiet
that she could hear the caretakers snoring in the bathing room as
she snuck past them and made her way toward the courtyard.

She traced Sena’s path through the courtyard
and made her way to the stables that bordered the palace walls. She
knelt and crawled through the partially open doors of the stable
and saw Sena and a man, whom she immediately recognized as a
horror. The palace stable was large, having once been used for
stabling cavalry horses and now it sat, mostly empty. The two of
them were on the bundle of hay and straw near her mother’s favorite
Arabian stud. The horror was on top of her and Sena’s legs were
wrapped around the back of his thighs. Her clothes were tossed
haphazardly over a stable door.

Darya inched along the stable stalls until
she was close enough to hear their moans. As the horror pushed deep
into Sena, her hips rose to meet his and she exposed her neck for
his mouth. The horror sank his fangs into her soft flesh. After
only moments, he withdrew his fangs and the blood seeped from the
bite marks, then stalled and unexpectedly congealed on her warm
flesh.

Darya inched closer and heard Sena whisper,
“Again, my love. Again, take it. Take all of me. Turn me. You must,
I implore.”

The horror bored in deeper, his fangs excited
to the point of sharpened knives and he took all that she could
give.

Darya watched but feared she would be caught
and eased out of the stable. She waited in the courtyard. She
somehow understood why Sena wanted to be turned, but must know and
wanted to hear it from Sena.

As Sena snuck back into the courtyard, she
saw Darya waiting near the entrance to the main hallway.

“Why would you want to be turned, Sena? You
will forever be one of them, you know,” Darya asked with a strange
level of contempt.

“Better to belong to something than nothing.
I’ve been in the trade for far too long. It’s not something you
would understand.”

Darya cupped the candle’s flame from the
wind. “I think that I do understand. When will you turn? Am I, are
we in danger?”

“No danger. I will leave before I turn.”

“Can I ask you a question, Sena?”

“Yes, you may, but I may not answer.”

“How did you know you must do it? What made
you decide it was worth it?”

Sena pushed past her, intent on not answering
the question, but Darya stopped her. “What made you decide it was
worth it? I must know.”

Sena answered without looking at her, “You
shouldn’t look for someone to tell you what you should do. You will
know and one never knows for certainty. Will you tell the countess
of this?”

“No.”

“Then I shall retire. I will be gone before
nightfall tomorrow.”

“Sena, wait,” Darya said, “I wish you
luck.”

Sena leaned in and kissed Darya on the cheek.
Darya found it tender and endearing.

* * * *

“Sena, is that you?” Crimson asked when the
door to her sleeping quarters creaked open.

“Yes, Crimson, it’s me.”

Crimson covered her brow with cupped hands to
block out the dim light from the hallway. “Where were you?”

“I had to sneak out, it’s not important. Go
back to sleep.”

“Sena?”

“Yes?” Sena said as she lay on her back next
to Crimson.

“I don’t belong here. When you were gone, I
roused from sleep with a sudden calling, a flush of memories. I
remember everything from the auction house. I remember Kieran and
the trip on the river. I remember Sergen and me earlier in the
countess’s bedroom, but I also remember Viktor.”

“Viktor?”

“I was once a princesses and in love. Viktor
was the clumsiest of lovers, but he was honest and pure. I don’t
belong here, Sena. I belong back in Sweden under the willow trees.
I belong to Viktor, not Tor. In as much as a woman can belong to a
man.”

Sena rolled to her side and rested her head
on her elbow. “You remember everything? Even your time as a
child?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard of it, but have never seen it.
You’re having a summoning.”

“Summoning?” Crimson questioned as she
brought her hands under her head and stared at the dark
ceiling.

“Yes. They say some captives’ breakout of the
spell from the auction house and Kieran, that they are summoned
back to their old lives. You are lucky and it is a curse at the
same time. What will you do?”

Crimson sighed. “I want to leave.”

“So do I, Crimson. So do I.”

“What shall we do?”

“We can try and get a message to your prince,
but it will prove difficult. Sweden is many, many miles away.”

“Yes, because we can’t leave, right Sena?
We’re stuck here, forever and ever and ever.”

“It’s more difficult than that.”

“How?”

“I’m going to turn Crimson.”

“You mean … become a horror?”

“Yes, the transformation will begin tonight
and by tomorrow I will be free. My thoughts have always been those
of a free woman anyways. But I will make it my mission to get your
message to Viktor.”