Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) (24 page)

This time when
they reached the council chambers, Ashayna was careful not to look at any of
the wall paintings. She didn’t want a reminder of the Twelve while she awaited
word of Lamarra.

“It should have
befallen me.” The words were insufficient, unable to describe her soul-deep
shame.

Sorntar ignored
her and walked towards the paneled doors. When he was close enough to touch the
painted surface, he stopped and studied it again. The oddness of his behavior
penetrated Ashayna’s grief.

“Sorntar?” She
joined him next to the picture, awaiting some reply and then understood. “Itharann,
what’s wrong?”

He brushed the
backs of his talons across the Destroyer’s image, caressing the face of the
long dead woman. “I loved her. She was my existence.” His words were somber,
resigned to confessing a long-buried secret. “She never knew of my love. It’s a
rare thing for a Larnkin to love a mortal spirit. My host suspected, but we
were together such a short time in our last life I never told either of them.
Now she’s gone. With her final act of betrayal, when she slid the daggers into
my host’s hearts, she sealed her doom. Ah, she knew the price: to murder your
bondmate is to destroy your soul.” Itharann paused in his retelling, as if the
old memories threatened to take over the present.

Ashayna couldn’t
speak, only listen with growing horror.

“Lord Death was
there that dark day. He couldn’t stop what his brother Dakdamon had caused, but
he was able to salvage some. He gathered together the shards of her soul and
dying Larnkin and carried them back to the Great Mother. In Her mercy, the
Mother reforged her soul, taking away the most painful memories and when
finished she was new again. I no longer knew her…you.”

He glanced at
her, his eyes telling of a vast grief encompassing more than Ashayna
understood. Itharann hesitated, as if he wanted to stop but couldn’t halt his
words. “The Mother kept you close and returned me to the Father to sleep and
heal. You are not the one I loved, but you are what the gods have given me as a
bondmate.” Itharann paused to give her another long-suffering look. “We will
make do, I suppose.”

While he spoke,
she’d put space between them until the passage way was at her back. One hand
rested on her sword’s hilt, the other a dagger.

“You plan to
test the Mother’s mercy a second time?” He followed her as he spoke, a cruel
smile on his lips, the dark light of challenge in his eyes.

“This is what
the Oracle was warning me of. I knew and didn’t wish to believe the truth—I did
nothing,” she whispered with growing horror. “Now you’ve enslaved Sorntar.”

A yelp escaped
her when she collided with a solid surface where there should have been a door.
She studied it a moment. It was a powerful shield, and she hadn’t felt him
calling the power. Holding panic at bay, Ashayna focused and asked another
question to stall him. “And how is it the Elementals haven’t detected your
corruption?”

Her voice
sounded cold, a perfect match for the serene mask she hoped was covering her
expression. The mask was the best her father could teach her. But her insides
fluttered with panic, and it took all her will to stifle a scream when his
power seeped past her shields.

“It is good you
care for the host. It will make what I ask easier for you. I want what any
bondmate would expect: love, loyalty, and respect throughout the long centuries
of our existence. If you will not grant me that, then end this now.” He reached
out and captured her hand—the one with the dagger clasped firmly within it. Without
warning he took her jaw in his free hand and tilted her face up to meet his
eyes. “Such strength and beauty you possess, yet so very traitorous.”

In an iron grip,
which would have broken her jaw if she struggled even a little, he held her
helpless. He reached up and unclasped the brooches holding his robe in place.
Cloth pooled around his waist, leaving his chest bare to her dagger. Her hands
began to shake uncontrollably.

“Go on, drive
it home. It would be better now than later.”

He freed her
jaw and used both hands to draw the dagger’s tip to the skin directly above his
heart. She didn’t know how long they stayed, facing each other, each with a
hand on the dagger. He dragged the point closer, drawing blood, while she
fought to pull it back.

“No! Please … I
can’t, not again. Never again.” Old memories welled up from a deep recess of
her soul. Fragments of images and unfathomable grief flooded her, worse than
the time with the oracle. Images of blood and soul destroying horror.

The dagger fell
to the floor, the clatter of metal on stone a sharp contrast to the stillness.

“I trusted you
couldn’t kill me a second time. It cost you too much the first time, besides
you would have required two daggers to slay me.” His smile could have shattered
stone. “The artist who painted those pictures of our dying moments must not
have been a phoenix, I suppose.” His voice dropped low. Threat laced each word.
“Last time you used both your daggers with great efficiency.”

Ashayna pulled
away with rising fury, fighting her way free of his grasp, uncaring if she was
hurt in the attempt. The struggle left her bruised and battered, but it was
worth every scratch his talons inflicted. Hatred uncoiled in her heart, a slow
insidious movement, threatening to poison the last of her reason. Fighting down
emotions, which would do her no good in the coming battle, she struggled
desperately against her fear and anger until she had regained some composure.

“You can try to
force me to do as you bid or you can destroy me, but I will never willingly
serve you. Why can’t you just leave us in peace? The one who corrupted you is
gone.”

“You ask for
peace?” Itharann laughed as he paced the length of the council table. “We will
never know peace. Why do you think we have been reborn? We are of the Twelve
and have always been born at times of trouble. We do not complain. We lead.” He
gestured to the room around them, the motion encompassing much more. “All this
is here because in the past we have done what must be done, gave of ourselves
until nothing remained. Bled and died for those who followed. Now we are called
on again and we must serve. That part of me has not changed. I plan to rule
both the Twelve and all the Elemental races. You shall aid me. None will stand
against us. None shall harm those loyal to us.”

Ashayna raised
her chin and squared her shoulders. “I won’t kill Sorntar, but I’m not going to
help you conquer whatever lands you please.”

“When you bond
fully with me, we will be one mind. Come.”

Ignoring her
denial, he reached for her arm. She dodged to his left and put the solid weight
of the table between them. She sorted through any number of possible options,
but nothing would stop him long enough for her to get away. Her only hope was
to call for help and occupy him until a councilor or guard came.

She called out
using magic, her mental call strong, buoyed by her desperate need, but another
power swallowed it without a trace, and, with wilting hope, she remembered the
barrier blocking the door.

“No one is
likely to come for some time yet.” His bland admission defeated the small hope
another might come upon them by chance. He continued, unheeding of her
disappointment, “The Dead King may not have planned for it but he has given me
the opportunity I require. Now come.”

Unseen to her
human eyes, a force encircled her body. It settled below her skin with a
sickening sensation. She forced down panic and called on her mage gift. It
responded feebly, only enough to gaze with mage sight. Her shields responded
not at all. Itharann stood blanketed with layers of power—the fluctuating waves
spread out in an ever-increasing circumference around him until it reached the
space where she stood. She could perceive where small threads of power, as
small and insubstantial as spider silk, connected them.

Against her
will her body moved to stand at his side. When Itharann handed back her dagger,
she sheathed it without pause. Even her frown smoothed out to a warmer
expression. Outwardly she may have smiled, but within her mind she screamed
curses at him.

“The human
language is more versatile than I knew. How colorful.” One eyebrow arched up in
an elegant curve. “Curse me as you will, I must control your action for a
little while yet. There are some things I require for our journey. We will be
leaving in a hurry once I put finishing touches on Grey Spires’ defenses. You
see, the Dead King and I do not see eye to eye. We are having a bit of a race,
one to see who can solidify his power base first. Oh, and if you have not
guessed, your mental calls will reach none except me.” His last statement more
an afterthought.

The need to
strike out at him was almost strong enough to break his control. With a supreme
act of will, she fisted her hand at her side. He noticed the movement and
crooned low in his throat. The sound, originally meant to calm, infuriated her
more.

“Relax,
Ashayna.” At his words, her hand uncurled and she followed dutifully behind.

His first
destination was the ancient library. There he sorted through a number of old
scrolls, packing them in warded containers to protect them against the
elements. Next came the kitchens, which proved as quiet as the library. After
those short trips they returned to his private chambers. He assigned her to the
readying of saddle bags, bed rolls, and various other supplies of non-magical
origin.

From a hidden
compartment in the chest, he carefully removed a heavy cloth-lined sack. A
large etched glass vial, corked with a warded stopper, slid out of the sack to
rest in his hand. Although she couldn’t identify the liquid by look alone, she
would bet her sword it was the silver non-water from the sacred springs.
Frustration overcame common sense and she baited him. “Wherever you plan to
take me, the Elementals will follow. They’ll not allow you to escape them.”

He paused in his
examination of the vial for a moment, seeming to think on her statement. With a
gentle care, he placed the vial back in its protective covering before turning
to her.

“They will be
too busy to follow us.” Itharann didn’t slow or turn as he spoke, but continued
out the door, motioning for her to follow. When she didn’t, Itharann returned,
and lifting one elegant hand he gestured her forward. This time his compulsion
dragged her along after him.

“So, what? You’re
running away? Is the ancient Larnkin afraid of the ones he intends to rule?”
Her words poured from a desperate corner of her soul. Ashayna hadn’t expected
him to rise to her bait and was surprised when he responded.

“You confuse
courage with foolishness. I would be a great fool to stay once they learn what
I am. I could win a fight with one or more of the elders, but against the
combined might of the council, even I would not fare well, as yet.”

“Then why are
you here at all? Surely returning was a foolish, dangerous move?”

Itharann
inclined his head in her direction. “You’re correct. As I said earlier, I was
as damaged as you, or nearly so, and have only recently awakened. Until then
Sorntar was in complete control. I only reacted instinctively to dangers to my
host. I’d just recovered enough to control my host when something in the human
lands weakened me. That creature, Lord Trensler, I don’t yet know what he is,
but certainly nothing human. He weakened me, fed from my power. I remember
nothing until I awakened here to find Lamarra kidnapped.”

That explained
more of what the oracle had said. It also reinforced how great a fool she’d
been. Up until this point she could have gone to another for help, but her
pride had stopped her—that, and her fear of magic. Now both she and Sorntar
would pay the price. She wondered if Sorntar was aware of his plight. For his
sake, she hoped he was oblivious.

They met few
others, as Itharann had chosen the least used hallways, but with each person
they passed, her hope suffered another blow. Even guards let him pass, unaware
of what walked the brightly lit halls with them.

By the time
they made their way into the vast gardens circling the castle, the sun stood
far to the west. Its warmth vanished in a heartbeat as she recognized Kandarra
and Vinarah approaching them, calling greetings over the short distance.

Itharann froze
at their approach. He made no outward signs to betray the dark rage Ashayna
could feel seeping from him across their link.

Ashayna didn’t
know what had triggered his rage, but quickly came to understand when she
caught glimpses of what he read from Vinarah’s thoughts. Remembering back to
her ordeal with the Oracle, Ashayna recalled her unknown assailant. The one
image she recalled most clearly was of a fist coming out of the dark with
talons clasped. She had known it had been a phoenix, but it had never once
entered her thoughts Vinarah would turn against her. Ashayna didn’t feel the
bite of betrayal she should, due to Itharann’s greater betrayal.

“Brother, what
news has fallen upon your sharp ears?” Vinarah hailed.

“I know only
what I knew before the Dead King raised his shields. He plans to make Lamarra
the next Dead Queen to increase his power before challenging me. Even though I
am pressed for time, I’ll still deal with you for the role you played in
Ashayna’s abduction and the abuses she suffered while in the Oracle’s Tower.”