Dark Warriors: A Dark Lands Anthology (Darklands) (20 page)

Nikon’s little skirmish was not one of them. They were waiting for him in the audience chamber when he strode in that afternoon, as confident as if he owned the palace. Attired in a long-sleeved crimson tunic and trousers with a black mandarin collar trimmed in gold braid instead of body armor, he wore no weapons of any kind. Perhaps he knew that he wouldn’t stand a chance against the full arsenal of Beast wrath, or perhaps it was his way of stating his own worth. Either way, the blond king was definitely not there in the guise of humble supplicant.

Nikon looked at Vana, who sat enthroned at Dagon’s side. “You’re looking well, Tzara. My hopes for a smooth delivery.”

Resplendent in her royal regalia, Vana inclined her head. “My thanks for your timely assistance, my lord.”

Nikon’s eyes glittered as he regarded Dagon. “Let us hope the gesture leads to a new beginning for both our peoples.”

The silence stretched out as Dagon returned his stare. Never one to waste his breath on diplomatic chatter, he asked calmly, “What do you claim as reward, Nikon? I think you have some appreciation for what I can and can’t give you.” Tread carefully, was left unspoken.

A raised brow expressed Nikon’s opinion of the warning. “As you have an appreciation for what I did for you.” He looked meaningfully at Vana. “I ask only to be rewarded in kind.”

“You wish for only one woman in exchange? A surprisingly modest request, Nikon.”

“I was not the only one who assisted in the hunt for the Mother Tree’s fruit,” Nikon pointed out, all traces of humor gone. “You know that a single woman will not fill the need among my people.”

“Are you certain your people, as a whole, still desire women?” The question was soft, but full of quiet menace.

Nikon seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek: hard. Granite might have been softer than his expression. “Some do. They will not be offered to those who accept their friends and brothers as substitutes.”

Though apparently relaxed, Dagon’s frame emitted an aura of suppressed energy as he slowly traced the line of his jaw with one finger. “How do you plan to defend your women from the vast bulk of your kingdom? Will the sodomites not rebel and demand women of their own? I understood that the core of your fellow believers was quite small.”

Nikon was silent.

Unblinking, Dagon continued, “Should we steal women for you, it would only be a small number; thirty, at most. More than enough for your personal cadre, and just enough to get you killed. No, I’m afraid I can’t countenance putting helpless women in that position.”

As if each word were ground glass, Nikon grated, “You have a suggestion.” It wasn’t a question, and by the stiff set of his shoulders, he wasn’t enjoying having his shortcomings pointed out.

“One.” Dagon raised his head and straightened in his chair, negligently crossing one leg over the other. “Abdicate.”

Murmurs of shock ran through the assembled courtiers as the word fell into their midst, like a stone thrown into dark waters.

Nikon barely seemed to breathe. “You broker a woman’s body for the price of a kingdom? My blood paid for my throne! Nine generations of my fathers defended and died serving my country,” he said passionately.

“And your father nearly destroyed not only my kingdom, but his own!” Dagon’s charge cracked like a whip, shattering Nikon’s impassioned speech. “Your little virus has caused the death of countless millions, and nearly wiped away what hope we had in this generation. No, Nikon. I’m not inclined to be generous. I won’t give you women to drag home and degrade and I won’t give you the coordinates to rape Vana’s world. If you want women, you will get them one way. Abdicate and go with your supporters to a secure location of my choice. In return, I will supply you with women, supplies and military protection until you become established. That is my final offer, and I require a choice now.”

Vana winced. The choice must be eating Nikon up inside. It was a long fall for a small reward; then again, maybe not. Dagon’s sources told him that Nikon’s political defeat was imminent. He was in danger of a coup and public execution, along with his core of supporters. Whether he wanted to face it or not, Dagon was doing him a favor. He could either accept it, or go home and die.

It was not a choice a king would care to make.

Finally, Nikon took a deep, ragged breath, pure defiance and fury glittering in his eyes. “I will abdicate, but you must allow me send for the men I left behind. They will bring supplies with them, and my people will cheer them as they leave, believing that they will be bringing back women. Once we have our women in hand, I will broadcast my true intentions. Lend me a knife.”

Dagon gestured to a courtier, and he warily handed Nikon a dagger. Swiftly, Nikon sliced his hand, watching impassively as bright blood spilled forth and splattered on the marble floor. “With this blood, I seal my words. I will abdicate, go into the exile of your choosing once our bargain is fulfilled, and remain aloof from any traffic with my people.”

“Swear also to treat the women with respect and care,” Dagon demanded, not yet appeased.

A crooked smile twisted Nikon’s mouth. “You underestimate us if you think we will treat our women with anything less than the greatest care, but yes, I swear it. We haven’t waited these long years for a miracle to use it ill now.” His eyes narrowed. “I also curse you by this spilled blood, if you do not meet your end of the bargain. May your loins shrivel and your body palsy beyond all hope of pleasure should your word fail.”

Dagon’s brows rose. “It will not.”

With a short, ironic nod, Nikon signaled his agreement. Without a backward glance, he turned and strode out the door.

Vana watched him go. “He’ll have a battle convincing his followers to back him.”

Snorting softly, Dagon rose and offered her his hand. “With those enticements? You underestimate him. If he could keep his men loyal through assassination attempts and cut throat politics, he can surely lead them now. It’s the coming war with his kingdom that concerns me more.”

They’d moved behind the thrones and into the private hallway leading to their chambers, so their conversation remained discreet. Mindful of that, Vana asked, “What do you mean? Do you think they’ll be angry? I mean, if they…I mean, with other men…” Flustered, she broke off.

Dagon’s world weary resignation showed in his glance. “Just because they’ve learned to debase their bodies doesn’t mean they won’t desire women, if they are offered. Unfortunately for them, they won’t get the chance. Our laws and beliefs won’t tolerate giving pure women to a twisted culture.”

Silent for a moment, Vana mulled that over. “Wouldn’t they change if given a chance?” They’d reached their chambers, and she drew off her high-collared ceremonial robe, eager for her hairdresser to start taking down her tortuously styled hair. The man had actually used a frame and pads to put it up today, and she didn’t have a prayer of taking it down without his help. As soon as she got a free moment, she was going to go over the hairstyle pictures she’d collected and try to convince him that royal appearances didn’t require wigged out tresses.

Dagon snorted and threw his sleeveless blue duster toward the bed. It slid off the side and landed in a soft blue puddle on the artfully woven rug. “More likely they’d twist the women to their way of thinking. You don’t know what their culture is like. Nikon is an aberration, and he’s treated like one, for all they’ve had to bow to his rule. With him out of the way, there will be no one pressing for peace. War is inevitable.”

Depressed, Vana sat at her newly installed vanity. Her hairdresser, Jefar, came and started untangling her locks from their wire frame. Determined not to think about politics for the next hour, Vana took the hairstyle reference she’d marked and started flipping through the pages. “Jefar, we need to do something different here.”

Less than thrilled with Vana’s notions of proper hair care, Jefar relented enough to adopt a less severe style for that evening’s banquet. Her hair was swept up in a high pony tail and multi-braided with wires into the resemblance of a Spanish hair comb. Not quite what she was after, but attractive in its way and better than that morning’s uncomfortable hairstyle.

It was a start. With luck, someday she might even convince him to leave the wires out of her hair altogether.

Smirking, Vana entered the banquet on Dagon’s arm. To her surprise, Nikon was seated at the head table, along with Ellyn, Dagon’s mother.

Vana shot Dagon a startled glance.

His oblique look accompanied his soft, “When testing a snake….” He left the rest of his cryptic reference unsaid.

Puzzling over his proverb, Vana allowed him to seat her, then sent polite, if stiff, smiles around the table. After all, Ellyn hadn’t been proven guilty yet.

Ellyn was a better actress, or else she was feeling triumphant, assuming that her name had been cleared. She smiled back with queenly serenity, tinged with triumph. This was her moment, and she was at her best, talking and chatting away with her neighbors as if she’d never seen disgrace.

Seated at her side, Nikon seemed rather reserved in contrast, his conversation measured, his expression as he looked at Ellyn slightly perplexed. Once he even caught Dagon’s eye and looked his question.

Dagon merely raised his brows slightly and let his gaze wander away.

A frown touched Nikon’s eyes, to be replaced by a look of irony. He sipped his wine, occasionally responding to the veiled challenges around him with satirical wit or concise deflections. He seemed unwilling to provoke a war at his host’s table.

Vana found she admired the man. Handsome, in a rough sort of way, he emanated a powerful confidence reminiscent of Dagon, and he seemed to possess more of a sense of humor. He had to be tense, but he hid it well.

In the midst of her musing, his eyes caught hers. She blinked. If she didn’t already have Dagon…

Frowning, she averted her gaze and thought resolutely of impending motherhood. The thought brought a smile to her lips, and she glanced at Dagon to find him watching her. Leaning over, she whispered, “You’re going to love it when my belly starts rounding, aren’t you?” She was unprepared for the slow heat smoldering in his stare.

Lazily, he set his lips to her ear. “Don’t tempt me, little wife. I’m already feeling…possessive.”

Shivering, she grinned and looked back over the guests, trying to behave.

“Oh! Could you get that for me, Nikon?” Ellyn had dropped her utensil.

Nikon leaned down and retrieved it, wordlessly handing it to a serving lad. The lad deftly replaced it.

“Thank you,” Ellyn murmured, and proceeded to ignore him.

Dagon sipped his wine, hiding a faint, grim smile behind the rim.

Nikon turned without expression when he heard Ellyn behind him. Her note, which he’d retrieved along with her utensil, had instructed him to meet her here. Now he waited wordlessly, wondering if she were losing her mind. “Milady.”

She smiled at him, halting two paces away on his balcony. “Your majesty. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

He raised an ironic brow.

“Pish. You didn’t come here with warring in mind. I’ve nothing to fear from you.”

“You have much to fear from your son.”

She was silent for a moment. “It’s unfortunate that he suspected me in the tragedy surrounding his wife, but he seems to have recovered his senses. As you saw tonight, I’m welcome at his table.”

Nikon hadn’t survived plotting nobles, attempted revolts and devious generals to let a woman hang him now. He knew the value of silence.

Ellyn glanced at the star-studded night. “You’ll soon be returning home with women of your own and a shiny new treaty. I’m curious about your world…I’d like to see it.”

“Would you?” Her ignorance of the details of his agreement didn’t surprise him. He’d often used misinformation to rout out his own traitors.

Smiling as only a woman could, she moved nearer. “I could be an asset to you, my lord. I know things that you’d find very educational, both politically and…sensually,” she said softly, trailing one gleaming nail down his chest. She crooked her finger and hooked it behind his belt. “Should my son defraud you, you would not go home empty handed.”

He regarded her through hooded eyes. “You don’t fear what you might become? Our women are not as…sheltered as yours.”

She laughed. “I can hold my own, my lord. I always have.”

“And you’ve never been satisfied with only one man.”

Eyes shuttered, she turned gracefully away and looked out at the night. “Men are not the only ones with passions.”

“And your son will just let you go?”

“He thinks me capable of murder.”

“Are you?”

She assessed him for a moment, knowing he was testing her. “All of us are, when pushed.”

He raised his brows mockingly. “Did you give the woman the virus?” He let his voice drop an octave, let her hear sensual excitement, knew she would appreciate it.

She lowered her eyes and smiled mysteriously. “Let us say, I made it possible. Mine wasn’t the murdering hand.”

He moved closer, murmured, “Just the one that pulled the trigger.”

Ellyn shrugged modestly.

Nikon looked up, unsurprised when Beast warriors suddenly filled the balcony. He sighed and took a step back, waiting to see what would happen.