DISOBEDIENCE
The Sanctuary of the Clans. The words rang in Adoile's mind like a charm. This seemed to her a sacred place where any vampire would always be safe from harm. The palace was enormous, magnificent. She wondered around in state of perpetual awe. Raziel had told her to wait in the small courtyard with the fountains, but she couldn't help herself. And surely he would not mind if she just had a look around...
It was several months since her awakening, she old enough to finally accompany her Lord to the Sanctuary, though still too young for the first changes, which would give her hands and feet their true shape and complete her transformation into a vampire. She felt almost unworthy to see it, to be in this holy space, the seat of Kain's empire, the symbol of His glory... It served its purpose well, from the shining dome, visible from far and wide to the finely detailed grillwork and woodcarvings. Raziel's own keep seemed humble by comparison, with its plain, soot-blackened walls. This palace was so much lighter. She wandered away from the humdrum of the gatehouse, up a flight of stairs, fascinated by the decorations on the walls, the intricately decorated lights hanging from the ceiling. The second floor was even more beautiful than the first, the walls decorated with enormous murals depicting the clan symbols and alien landscapes. There was a carpet on the floor here, with patterns woven into it. She recognised a wolf, a bat, some kind of bird, and central to it all, Kain's sigil. She continued down the hall, and, to her surprise, the wall on the left side suddenly opened up to a breath-taking vista. The Sanctuary was built on a cliff, and this balcony looked out over the chasm it neighboured. In the darkness, she could not see the depths to which she would fall if she leaned over the cold-iron fencing too far -- only mist, the waterfall plunging into what seemed like endless depths. She could hear the shrill cry of bats, and, after a moment, caught glimpses of them, large as crows, winging through the darkness like something out of a nightmare.
"Enjoying the view?" a deep voice behind her asked, and her heart stopped, already aware of what her eyes had yet to confirm.
Kain.
He was tall, his skin looked like dark, veined granite and the years had changed the very shape of his face, but she recognised him at an almost instinctive level. This was Him. The Lord and Master of all. Kain. She was frozen, could not do anything but stare.
"Who are you?" he asked, annoyed, "speak!"
The command brought back her voice from the depths where it had been hiding. The first thing past her lips was a meaningless, choking sound. "Adoile Raziela," she gasped after a moment, and managed a kind of curtsy. "At your service, my Lord."
He sighed. "Raziel's, of course. All so dreadfully well-behaved.... Are you his own?"
She nodded like an automaton. Her mind was lost. She could not but stare at him, his rough, stony face, the horn-like protrusions growing from his brow, his clear yellow eyes.
"What?" he asked, but his voice sounded soft.
"You sure don't look like your portrait," she blurted.
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound originating somewhere deep in his massive chest. "And is that a disappointment?" he growled softly.
"No," she breathed, "You're... beautiful..." she reached out to touch the bony crown growing from his head. His skin felt cool, hard as a rock, and yet, like Raziel's, undeniably alive. Her soft, still human fingers wandered down his pointed and hardened ears, and she noticed only then how his eyes had widened.
"Well, you're a brazen one, aren't you?"
She blushed, and immediately let go. She leaned backwards over the balcony fence, suddenly fearful.
"I can see why Raziel chose you." He reached out with one tri-fingered hand, and cupped her chin, turning her face towards him. "Quite... delectable..." he said in a low voice, and one razor claw traced a treacherous path down the side of her neck. She cocked her head to expose it, carelessly offering herself to him. She barely knew what she was doing, but her instinct did not fail. He was her Lord. She was His to command, His to possess in any way He wanted.
"Adoile!" His outrage was evident from that first word, and she snapped out of the spell Kain seemed to have put on her, shocked to see Raziel here, now. She'd all but forgotten he existed. "I told you to wait in the courtyard," he said, barely able to contain his anger.
Kain stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Not so harsh, Raziel," she heard his gravelly voice close by her ear, "she meant no harm."
"She is willful and disobedient, and has ignored a direct order," Raziel said, haughtily looking down on her. Fear began to creep into her stomach. Raziel was livid. Kain seemed to look kindly on her, but Raziel was her Lord and father.
"A grave crime," Kain said, with something of mockery in his tone, "we shall have to chastise her." He seemed all too eager to, and Adoile wondered what exactly he meant.
"I will," Raziel answered, with a little extra emphasis on the "I".
Kain bared his fangs at him. "Greedy," he complained.
"The council awaits your attendance, my Lord," Raziel said archly, actually trembling.
"Very well," Kain said, "lead on." He followed Raziel down the hall, and called, without looking back, "Come, little one. You can accompany me."
Even from behind, Adoile could see Raziel bristle. She followed Kain, her heart fluttering with excitement. This was a tremendous honour he was showing her, and she felt fittingly awed and elated, in spite of the nagging suspicion he did this only to annoy his eldest son.
The doors to the troneroom were open, and Raziel strode in to take his proper place between his brethren. All six went down on one knee as Kain passed in between them. Adoile followed close, feeling as though all the eyes in the world were upon her, even though there was no one here but the six lieutenants. Before Kain sat down, he pointed briefly at a spot just in front and to the left of his throne, and she knelt there, at his feet, facing the room.
She recognised them all from their portraits, and realised they even stood in the same order as their portraits were hung in the tower room. Closest to her stood Melchiah, who was bald, next to Rahab, next to Dumah, who looked every bit as powerful as he was reputed to be. Raziel stood on the other side of him, next to Turel, and the boyish Zephon was on the other side of the throne. These last two exchanged a look and Zephon tried to catch Raziel's eye, but Raziel stared stoically at Kain.
"Well met, my sons." Kain's voice rang out dark and clear. While it didn't literally make the ground shake and the skies weep, as Adoile had heard it tell, she could certainly forgive the poet his exaggeration. "I am glad to see you are all still sound, and have not ripped each other's hearts out yet. I hope you bring me good news tonight. The Council has been called by Zephon, so let us hear him."
All turned to Zephon, who took a small step forward. He inclined his head and performed a strange kind of half-bow to greet Kain. "My Lord, I fear I bring no happy tidings. The proverbial wealth of the East is in decline. The mortals in my lands live in hardship and fear; they are losing their faith and many are moving away to the south. I lack the subjects I need to till the fields, maintain the roads and guard what few cities I have." He looked around the circle, pausing for a moment to let all this sink in. There was something about his manner, and his brothers', that gave Adoile the feeling this was not news at all. He continued, his voice trembling slightly. "The reason is that more and more bands of Turelim are roaming the countryside pillaging my lands, killing indiscriminately --"
Turel hissed something at him, but he continued, his eyes on Kain. "-- and wantonly whomever they meet. There are more every year, my Lord, and I cannot protect every single hamlet within my territory. I have discussed the matter with Turel, but he seems unwilling to change the situation. I have called you here for an urgent appeal to my brother to tell his people -- please, relent, and let my herd live in safety once more." He glanced beside him at Turel, whose face showed a displeased grimace. "A safety, I would like to add, they will certainly be willing to pay for."
He stepped back, his speech at an end. There was a short silence, Turel bared his teeth at Zephon, who avoided his eye by looking at his hands. Adoile shifted, sitting kneeled on the hard stone floor was making her feel stiff. She folded her legs to one side, straightening her red, flowing skirt out over her knees. Raziel broke the silence.
"My Lord."
Kain gave him the word. "Raziel?"
"I will confirm Zephon's account. Some of Turel's brood have ventured as far as my lands, and they are either ignorant or indifferent to the concept of territorial rights. They prey upon undefended villagers, and they are merciless. Accounts reach me of a small town along my southern border which was completely wiped out, men, women and children."
"Lies," Turel interrupted angrily, "that wasn't my men." He looked pointedly at Rahab opposite him. Kain raised a hand to silence him. Zephon now bore a confident little smile on his face; he looked at Raziel, who continued.
"Regardless. I would like to support this appeal to Turel, please, keep your kinsmen in check." He had turned to Turel, who met his gaze, undaunted.
"Rahab?" Kain said, and Adoile realised he had asked to be given the word.
"So do I," he said simply. Adoile looked up at Kain, whose eyes went around the circle slowly.
"Turel?" he asked, finally.
"My Lord." Turel stepped forward and nodded respectfully. "I will not claim that my clansmen always find sustenance within the borders of my territory -- that is precisely the problem. Within the borders of my territory, there is precious little sustenance to be found. The furnaces that keep all of you shielded from the sun have turned my own territory into a wasteland. Nothing will grow there, and apart from a few mining settlements and a dwindling city, I don't have a herd anymore; all of the cattle has moved away -- largely into the lands of these three, I might add." He waved an arm in the general direction of Rahab and Raziel. Dumah, stood in between them, grinned humourlessly. "I would like to assert that my men are neither wanton nor indiscriminate, and that they have a right to feed themselves."
"Of course they do," Kain agreed, "And your brothers have a right to defend what is theirs."
"Absolutely," Turel called out. "I would never deny them that."
There was another silence. Adoile looked at Zephon, who was staring at Kain with a desperate expression on his face.
"Very well," Kain said, looking at Raziel. Raziel nodded, briefly, a motion followed by Rahab.
"But I said," Zephon started, but Raziel's grave face stopped his protest short. Slowly, he turned to Kain, and nodded, defeated.
"Good. Any other matters?"
Zephon stamped on the floor with one foot in frustration, but everyone ignored him. Adoile felt sorry for him. The Turelim were vicious animals, even she knew that.
Raziel took the word, or received it in some unseen way. "Rahab, I have a question for you. What happened to that abbey we discussed last time? I still seem to detect a distinct evangelising influence emanating from your lands. Forgive me, but I fail to understand why you allow such dangerous ideas to flourish within your borders."
Adoile suddenly froze up as she felt Kain's fingers playing with her loose curls. She did not dare turn her head to look at him, but she saw that Raziel noticed, and by the look on his face, it did not improve his mood.
"Rahab, how do your monks fare?" Kain asked, and lazily twirled a single curl around his finger.
"Well, my Lord," Rahab said emphatically. "They are of little influence, and serve to give hope to the population, a hope which sustains them. Their doctrine is not dangerous but helpful. Besides, they pay their tithes willingly and without fail."
"They pay you in babies," Zephon interrupted, "it's disgusting!"
Rahab turned to Zephon, but did not deny the claim. "Strange thing, Zephon. One would not expect such religious intolerance from you."
Zephon sneered. "Clever."
Turel laughed, and Adoile tried to suppress a chuckle. She had heard of Zephon's divine status among his people. Her laugh was cut off abruptly when Kain scraped his claws over her scalp. It was painful, but she felt proud to be thus shown affection by him. Raziel fixed Kain with a murderous stare, and in response, Kain cupped the back of her skull in his massive hand, digging his nails in under the bottom edge. She gasped. Surely he could rip off her head without effort now, if he wanted to.
"Is the church a problem for you, Raziel?" he asked.
"Not a problem," Raziel said through clenched teeth, "more of an annoyance."
Kain dug his claws in deeply now, surely drawing blood, and Adoile moaned softly. "I doubt mere annoyance will be your downfall," he said.
Raziel pressed his full, black lips together into a tight line, and merely nodded. Through her haze of pleasure spiced with fear, Adoile began to worry again. If he took even an ounce of that anger out on her she would certainly feel it. She was helpless though, held in thrall by Kain's offhand ministrations.
"Do you bring us any news, Dumah?" Kain asked.
"No news, my Lord. All is well."
"How do our northern rebels fare?"
"Badly."
"Good." He paused for a moment. "Was there anything else?"
There was a long silence, as if they all waited for someone else to speak first. Adoile did not see their faces, lost as she was between the pain and pleasure of being touched by Him. Finally, Raziel spoke up.
"One thing, Kain." It was the first time anyone had addressed the Lord by his name, and Adoile felt his hand twitch in response. Raziel smiled ingratiatingly. "Could I have my daughter back?"
Kain chuckled, and suddenly pushed Adoile away from him. She almost fell forwards, and felt as if she'd woken from a kind of dream. She was exactly where she should be though, and remembered all that had happened. Raziel snapped his fingers, a sign meant for her. She got up and stumbled towards him. He grabbed hold of her shoulder and manoeuvred her in front of him. Kain got up.
As he crossed the room, his six lieutenants went down on one knee once again. Adoile was too stunned and confused to realise what was happening, though. She stared wide-eyed at Kain, unable to make herself move. Without even looking at her, he reached out a hand, mid-stride, and it glowed for a moment with a blue-green aura. Adoile was struck by an irresistible force, which knocked the air from her lungs and slammed her down to the ground.
She groaned and tried to curl up on herself, without much success. Her entire body felt cramped; a blinding pain twisted her muscles as she fought for control. After what seemed like minutes, she crawled up to her hands and knees, panting, slowly recovering from the blow. Kain was long gone, and several of the brothers had left as well. There was a pair of metal-plated boots just in front of her. Raziel.
"Raziel, please," a clear, high-pitched voice spoke. "Can't you..." Zephon. He was stood next to her. She decided not to get up, for now. She wasn't sure she could have anyway.
"I would gladly help, Zephon," Raziel said coldly. "But there is nothing I can do."
Zephon shifted from one foot to the other, clearly wanting to say more. "Thanks for backing me," he said finally, morosely.
"Don't mention it." Raziel turned sharply and started walking towards the door. Adoile scrambled up, her head still reeling, and followed him as he stomped though the hallways, anger emanating from him like a bad smell.
They marched home through the darkness without a word being said. She lingered behind him, wishing he would lecture her, or even punish her. She couldn't bare this ominous silence.
They were met at the gate by Konrad, Raziel's deputy. Raziel greeted him impatiently. Konrad told him there was a conflict, and that the guilty party demanded to be heard by Raziel. He growled and followed Konrad into the outer courtyard, where a small crowd had gathered. Adoile slipped into the crowd, glad to be out of her father's immediate attention, and crept into one of the back alcoves. She had a good view of the room from here, and was out of Raziel's immediate line of sight.. Raziel took position in the centre of the dais, with Konrad beside him. In front of the stage there was a cleared space, where she recognised Harald, one of Raziel's knights, holding on to a fair-haired little man. To the other side of him was a sullen-looking soldier with raven hair. Raziel regarded them both with distaste.
"Well?" he asked.
"These are Damon, son of Robin, and Cowin, his brother. Both serve your son Harald. Cowin complained to his companions that Damon was a coward. When Damon found, he challenged his brother, who was fully prepared to repeat the insult to his face. Damon attacked his brother and impaled him on a spiked shield hanging on the wall. Cowin was found there, half dead and mad for blood loss, and didn't recover until tonight. Having heard his story, I sentenced Damon to five day's dry imprisonment, but he wishes to appeal to you."
Raziel had heard all this with a scowl on his face, looking from Cowin to Damon and back. He fixed his eye on Damon now, and Adoile almost felt sorry for him. He could not have chosen a worse night for this.
"Well, speak," Raziel said, disgust thickening his voice.
Damon knelt briefly, a manoeuvre made more difficult by the fact that Harald was still firmly holding on to his arm. "My Lord, I would not dare ask for leniency; I cannot deny that I was out of order. But Cowin insulted my honour, which I have a right to defend. I accept that I need to be disciplined, my Lord, but five day's imprisonment... It's simply unjust!" The horror on his face was warranted. Adoile had never gone more than half a night without blood, but that had been bad enough. Five days must be unbearable.
"I do not need you to tell me what justice is, whelp!" Raziel said sharply. "You were not defending your honour as it is evident you don't have any. If you did, you would know better than to attempt to murder your brother. Your own blood, Damon!" He turned to the other. "And you, why did you slander him?"
"I did not, Lord," a gruff voice answered. "It's not slander if it's true."
"You lie!" Damon roared, and tried to free himself from Harald's grasp. He failed, and struggled to regain his composure before turning to Raziel. "I am no coward, Lord. And I did not try to murder him -- I hurt him much more than I meant to... in my rage..."
"Silence!" Raziel interrupted. Damon bowed his head. There was a silence, broken only by slight whispers from the crowd. Finally, Raziel shook his head. "Damon," he said dully. "If your father was alive tonight he would have burned with shame to have spawned such a disgrace."
Damon looked up and shook his head, fearful now. He knew he'd lost, he would be lucky to get ten days' imprisonment.
Raziel's voice was loud and sharp when he passed judgment. "Hang him out in the rain for a night."
Adoile gasped, shocked. She had never even heard of such a punishment, although she'd seen the shackles fastened to the outside of the castle walls. A night of rain would have destroyed her. Damon, if he would survive, would be facing long nights of unbearable agony as his body recovered. "No!" he howled, and struggled again to break free, as if he couldn't help himself. Harald shut him up with a sharp word, and turned to the dais.
"My Lord," he said reasonably, "it's not raining."
"It will. Eventually," Raziel said humourlessly. "And in the meantime, he can ponder the meaning of 'restraint'."
Harald nodded, and, helped by Cowin and another of his men, started manoeuvring the feebly protesting Damon outside.
"Anyone else who wants to appeal to me?" Raziel asked. The crowd went very quiet. Adoile crept back into the shadows, hoping to avoid her father's attention. She wasn't so lucky.
"Oh yes, before I forget..." His voice sounded deceptively sweet. "Adoile. Come up here." He wasn't looking at her, probably did not know where she was, but that made no difference. If she refused, her punishment would be ten times worse. Slowly, feeling sick to her stomach, she crawled out of the alcove and put one heavy foot in front of the other towards the dais. Raziel beckoned her onto it and she stood in front of him, her back towards the crowd.
"Adoile, in the mere moments of your existence, you have tried my patience more often that most would manage in a century. Tonight you added open disobedience to a long list of past offenses. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
It was theatre. His rage seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a cold cruelty that twisted the corners of his mouth. There was nothing she could say that could save her. Tears stung her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Lord," she whispered, and dropped to her knees in a gesture of absolute subservience.
Raziel addressed the crowd over her head. "She's very sorry," he hissed, and a nervous laughter rang up. Adoile sobbed silently. She had been warned. 'Raziel the Cruel', they called him, he had told her so himself. He could be fickle, her fellow fledglings had said. The last unfortunate soul who had tended to his rooms had been torn apart in a fit of rage, they had said. She had thought them lies, born out of jealousy. Only now did she believe it, when it was probably too late.
"Adoile," Raziel said, softly but insistently. She raised her head to look at him. "You have been a very naughty girl."
She gaped at him, unable to speak. He drew himself up to his full height.
"There's only one thing I can think of to do with you," he said in a medatitive tone, and paused for another long moment. She waited, a fear clenching her stomach. Why hadn't she run when she had a chance?
Suddenly, Raziel reached out and grabbed her by the nape of the neck. She yelped with surprise as he manoeuvred her over one knee and started bunching up her skirts to expose her backside. Surprise turned to outrage, and she heard herself howl, fighting to get free. It was hopeless. She lacked the leverage to free herself, and Raziel had a dozen times her strength. He won the struggle easily, and the sight of her bare rump was met with loud catcalls and jeering from the crowd. Tears ran down her face as she finally gave up the fight. She felt the warm summer air on her naked skin and heard him laugh softly. The crowd seemed to hold its breath. She was waiting for it, but still the first slap made her cry out in shock, and she struggled to get away again, before she realised it didn't even hurt. The crowd cheered loudly, and he followed it up with sharp, rhythmic slaps. Although it stung, she knew pain was not the issue. He was not doing this to hurt her, but to humiliate her for the mere enjoyment of his clan. Her dignity was given away to them as a present, and they honoured the gift with enthusiastic whistling and wooting.
She wished to die then, wished the ground would swallow her up. She tried to forget where she was, tried to ignore the dreadful noise, but the sharp smacks to her exposed buttocks kept bringing her back to this horrific scene, this complete abasement. She wondered, had she ever been anything but an amusement to him? What of her education, he had taught her himself, told her that she was a noble woman, and need not bow to anyone but him. How foolish had she been to believe his lies, to think she was anything more than his serving girl, a slave!
He laughed again, and she sobbed, the gentle, irregular slaps punctuating her thoughts and her ragged breaths.
Just when she thought he would never stop, he abruptly pulled her back to her feet again. Instinctively, she brushed her skirts back down to cover herself, a gesture that drew a fresh volley of cheerful laughter from the crowd. Her eyes were cast down; she could see nothing for her tears and the straw-coloured curls that fell in front of her face. She was grateful for the concealment. She could feel Raziel standing close by her, his hand still resting at the base of her neck.
"I forgive you, Adoile," he whispered. More mockery. How high she had imagined herself, and how cruelly she had fallen. "Now go to your room," Raziel called over the din, and she ran to the door at the back of the dais, away from their laughter, stumbling blindly through the keep until she dropped down at the bottom of a flight of stairs. For where was she to go but to his rooms? His inner chamber was also her bedroom, the wolves' skin behind the door her only bed. After this, how could she ever meet his eye again? But where was she to go, if not there?
Her feet dragged her on, up the stairs, into his reception room, and she closed the door behind her, still sobbing violently. The closet, she decided. It was small, and stuffed full of chests with arcane treasure and junk, but she had the only key to the door. She locked herself inside. It had a barred window, which meant the sun would wake her and leave her broken tomorrow night, but she did not want to think of tomorrow night. Trying to hate him, she curled up in the cramped space and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep.
She was still very much awake when she heard the main door open, and Raziel's footsteps in the room outside. She knew it was him by his footfall, which was distinct, even though muffled by the carpet. He halted in the middle of the room, as if looking around for something, and she held her breath. More footsteps, the clump of wooden panels and drawers. Keys softly jangling.
She buried her face in her hands. He kept extra keys in the secretaire. She should have known.
As the door opened slowly, new tears forced themselves into her eyes. How could she face him now...?
"Come," he said, his tone not unfriendly, but still commanding. She looked through her fingers and saw an outstretched hand. Obediently, she rose, keeping her eyes on the floor, and followed him across the blood-red carpet into the inner chamber. "On the bed," he said softly.
She plopped down, and immediately brought her hands to her face again. She felt ridiculous, the red taffeta skirts of which she'd been so proud now seemed idiotic. Raziel paced the room, impatiently.
"Oh, stop your sniveling! I didn't even hurt you," he said, irritated.
She tried to obey; wiped her eyes. But tears still thickened her voice when she spoke.
"Why?" She looked up and met his fierce, golden eyes. It froze her on the spot, he was still angry, and looking him in the eye made her stomach turn slightly at the best of times.
"Why what?"
"Why did you have to humiliate me so utterly?" Her voice sounded broken, weak.
His eyes widened, blazing with anger. She quickly looked down again. "I humiliated you?" he shouted. "And what did you do? You made a fool out of me, in front of Kain! Am I to let that lie? Am I to pretend I didn't notice your coquetry? Didn't notice you offering yourself to him? All things considered, Adoile, I think I let you off very lightly."
"I didn't mean to," she said weakly.
He laughed hollowly. "Oh, Adoile..."
She didn't look at him, did not trust the forgiving tone of his voice.
"Such a pretty face," he said, "such a little mind..."
Fresh outrage made her look up. He was smiling at her, one hand on his hip. He laughed at her shocked expression.
"But such pride!" .
She turned away, deeply grieved. "How can you be laughing?" she whispered. "You ruined me. How can I ever face my brothers and sisters again? You've made a mockery of me!"
"Don't be so melodramatic, Adoile," he frowned. He walked over to the door and barred it for the day. "You think you're the first to step out of line? The first to be taught humility? They will forget soon enough. And so will you." He stood in front of her, but she avoided his eye. When he reached out to stroke her hair, she angrily slapped his hand away.
"Come now, don't be angry," he said. "I'm just having a little sport..."
"That's all I am to you, isn't it?" she burst out, her anger finally taking control. "A little sport! A toy to manipulate, or break at your whim!" She had got to her feet and was shouting, careless of the consequences. "Well I refuse to be your plaything! I wish I was someone else's child, I hate you!"
Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through her face and she hit the floor. He had struck her, his claws raking over her cheekbone -- he'd only barely missed her eye.
"You ingrate," he raged. "After all I've given you! I took you in, sheltered and fed you, dressed you in finery and this is how you repay me?"
She cowered on the floor, cradling her burning wound in her hand.
"You are not six months old! Were you anyone else's child, you'd be scrubbing the floors night and day, working for every drop of blood you got!"
His clunking boots approached, and she feared for a moment he would kick her in the face. She curled up in fear.
"You hate me, you say? I gave you all you have, you are nothing without me." He breathed heavily, fighting to get his anger under control. "Don't you ever take that tone with me again, or I will give you reason to hate me." He turned away and leaned his hand on one of the bedposts.
Adoile fell to helpless sobbing. Her wound was healed, but something far more fundamental than physical pain ate away at her very soul.
"Rusanna was right," he said darkly, "I have spoiled you." He sat down on the bed, heavily, and started undoing the clasps on his boots. They were complex contraptions of leather and metal, made to the shape of his cloven feet. In the past months, she had often helped him put them on or take them off. She crawled towards him now, her eyes on the floor.
"Allow me," she whispered.
Without a word, he extended his foot in her direction, and she undid the clasps and laces with trembling fingers.
He sighed. "Adoile, what am I to do with you? I have given you all, and yet you are unhappy. What do you want from me?"
She hesitated. Was this an honest question or an invitation to embarrass herself further? "All I wanted was to see the Sanctuary," she said softly, pulling his boot off. "You keep me locked in here like a dog. I make mistakes -- you shout at me, I'm well-behaved -- you ignore me. Sometimes I doubt you even remember I'm here. I want..." She tugged on his other boot. "I want to be free." It suddenly came loose and she fought to keep her balance. Keeping her eyes on the floor, bracing herself for another tirade, she took up the boots and carried them to the stand that held his armour when he wasn't wearing it. Raziel was still silent. When she looked at him, her face bloodstained and grimy, he was frowning at her with genuine puzzlement.
"But -- you are free!"
She cast her eyes down again, and brushed nonexistent dust from her dress.
"I tell you to stay inside only for your own protection, you are too vulnerable, a single shower of rain -- a particularly fierce rat could kill you!" Her eyes scanned the floor, noticed dirt and loose stones in the carpet. She'd neglected this room. "You have no idea what goes on in the gatehouse of the Sanctuary," he continued, "a gullible child like you... I couldn't risk them getting their hands on you."
She looked up, puzzled. Them?
"I need you to --" He brushed a hand through his fine hair. "I have to know for certain that you are mine," he said, pleadingly.
"I am yours," she said, shrugging slightly. He sighed. She used her sleeve to rub at a small stain on the wooden stand next to her, avoiding his eyes again.
"What would you do with your freedom?" he asked. "Is there somewhere else you'd rather be?"
She shrugged again. She was starting to feel very much like the thankless wretch he obviously thought she was.
"And if he asked -- Adoile?"
She looked up. The look in his eyes was worried, almost frightened. It chilled her to the bone.
"If Kain asked, would you leave me to serve him instead?" he asked, and she knew it was a trick question. There was no right answer to that. She shrugged helplessly.
"As if I could refuse Kain...?"
He looked away, cursed under his breath. A long silence fell. It occurred to her that perhaps it hadn't been a trick question. Perhaps he really wished to know. She approached him, carefully, bravely meeting his questioning and weary-looking eyes.
"Raziel... No..." She reached out and touched his brow, stroked the hair out of his face and traced the fine black veins in his cool, alabaster skin with her fingers. He closed his eyes.
"God, deliver us from the guiles of woman," he groaned.
She let go, offended in spite of herself. He opened his eyes and stroked her cheek gently, a sad smile on his face. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the front of her bodice and hauled her onto the bed behind him. She yelped and landed gracelessly, though softly, on the mattress, her limbs spread out randomly. Raziel went back to stroking her cheek gently, as if nothing had happened, and started undoing the buckle of his shoulderguards with his other hand. She stared at him, frightened.
"Are you true, Adoile?" he asked as though idly wondering. "Or does your pretty face belie a black and treacherous heart?"
She shook her head, afraid to speak. He wrestled out of the shoulderguards and cape he wore for official business and tossed them unceremoniously to the floor.
"'You never know which ones will betray you.' Too true, eh, little one?" His claws sliced through the ribbon that kept her bodice together, and she tried to sink deeper into the mattress. What game was this?
"I would never betray you," she said, her voice tight with fear.
"No?" There was a twinkle in his eye. "Are you so certain?" He ripped open her bodice and she gasped. Here she was, half-naked in her Master's bed, and his eyes bespoke a dark amusement. What was he doing?
"I will be true, always," she gasped, "I swear upon my soul!"
"Your soul? Brave words from a newborn. You had better keep that promise." He put his hand on the red mark in the middle of her chest. Her birthmark, he had called it, and she noticed now it was exactly the same size as his hand. "For if you do not," he continued, pressing down lightly, "your soul will be doomed to wander this keep forever, lost in an eternal twilight, ever far from rest or respite. Thus, I curse you." A blue, shimmering flame enveloped his hand and she felt her heart jump, sending a painful tingling out through her entire body. It lingered in her hands and feet, and she wondered, did he really have such power or was this a simple trick? Did that make any difference?
He gave her a satisfied smile, and she breathed more easily, convinced he would not harm her further now. "Why would I break it?" she asked lightly. He grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim lamplight, and leaned over her.
She screamed when she felt him bite down on the skin of her neck, more with surprise than with pain. He was gentle, drawing out her blood through two small puncture wounds, but she had never felt anything like it and the experience was mind-blowing. She could feel his pull on her blood throughout her body. His will commanded her very being and it obeyed, spouting the blood out into his eager, waiting mouth. She was helpless, unable to resist him even when the hunger flared up in her, burning with the strength of a forest-fire. She groaned, her hands grasping the sheets, thrashing helplessly, unable to escape either his grip or his indomitable will.
When he finally let go she felt as if her hunger would consume her. Her fists were still tangled in the sheets of his bed; her chest heaving with desperate, ragged breaths. She felt as if her very mind was slipping into darkness, and she held on with the desperate strength of the dying.
"This is a test," he said, grinning, his eyes glazed over with the pleasure of bloodlust sated. She clenched her teeth, her back arched; a keening sound escaped her lips. Even through her haze of need, she understood his words. She had to hang on, no matter how hard it was.
He stroked her face gently, and traced his thumb over her drawn lips. The hunger was like a beast inside her, urging her to fight, to bite him, threatening to take control. She must hold on, she grabbed his wrist and moved his hand away. She managed a choked word.
"Please..."
He fixed her with his eyes, an inscrutable smile on his lips, and pulled out a bottle from -- somewhere, she neither knew nor cared where. Her fingers grasped for it before he had managed to pull out the stopper, and when he finally gave it to her she guzzled it down faster than she should have been able to. The last drop gone, she moaned with the pleasure of feeding, the almost painful sense of release as the blood spread through her limbs, releasing her knotted muscles and diffusing her body with a warm glow. She lived again.
"Raziel," she gasped, panting, "please, don't do that to me again..."
He drew himself up to sit against the headboard, and let her put her head in his lap. She curled up alongside him and sighed deeply. It was dawn, she felt. Sleep was creeping in on her.
"Don't worry, you passed the test," he said, gently stroking her hair. "Easily."
She shook her head. None of his tests were easy, especially not tonight's. But if he said she'd passed, that was enough. She drifted to sleep with a contented smile on her lips.
The Sanctuary of the Clans. The words rang in Adoile's mind like a charm. This seemed to her a sacred place where any vampire would always be safe from harm. The palace was enormous, magnificent. She wondered around in state of perpetual awe. Raziel had told her to wait in the small courtyard with the fountains, but she couldn't help herself. And surely he would not mind if she just had a look around...
It was several months since her awakening, she old enough to finally accompany her Lord to the Sanctuary, though still too young for the first changes, which would give her hands and feet their true shape and complete her transformation into a vampire. She felt almost unworthy to see it, to be in this holy space, the seat of Kain's empire, the symbol of His glory... It served its purpose well, from the shining dome, visible from far and wide to the finely detailed grillwork and woodcarvings. Raziel's own keep seemed humble by comparison, with its plain, soot-blackened walls. This palace was so much lighter. She wandered away from the humdrum of the gatehouse, up a flight of stairs, fascinated by the decorations on the walls, the intricately decorated lights hanging from the ceiling. The second floor was even more beautiful than the first, the walls decorated with enormous murals depicting the clan symbols and alien landscapes. There was a carpet on the floor here, with patterns woven into it. She recognised a wolf, a bat, some kind of bird, and central to it all, Kain's sigil. She continued down the hall, and, to her surprise, the wall on the left side suddenly opened up to a breath-taking vista. The Sanctuary was built on a cliff, and this balcony looked out over the chasm it neighboured. In the darkness, she could not see the depths to which she would fall if she leaned over the cold-iron fencing too far -- only mist, the waterfall plunging into what seemed like endless depths. She could hear the shrill cry of bats, and, after a moment, caught glimpses of them, large as crows, winging through the darkness like something out of a nightmare.
"Enjoying the view?" a deep voice behind her asked, and her heart stopped, already aware of what her eyes had yet to confirm.
Kain.
He was tall, his skin looked like dark, veined granite and the years had changed the very shape of his face, but she recognised him at an almost instinctive level. This was Him. The Lord and Master of all. Kain. She was frozen, could not do anything but stare.
"Who are you?" he asked, annoyed, "speak!"
The command brought back her voice from the depths where it had been hiding. The first thing past her lips was a meaningless, choking sound. "Adoile Raziela," she gasped after a moment, and managed a kind of curtsy. "At your service, my Lord."
He sighed. "Raziel's, of course. All so dreadfully well-behaved.... Are you his own?"
She nodded like an automaton. Her mind was lost. She could not but stare at him, his rough, stony face, the horn-like protrusions growing from his brow, his clear yellow eyes.
"What?" he asked, but his voice sounded soft.
"You sure don't look like your portrait," she blurted.
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound originating somewhere deep in his massive chest. "And is that a disappointment?" he growled softly.
"No," she breathed, "You're... beautiful..." she reached out to touch the bony crown growing from his head. His skin felt cool, hard as a rock, and yet, like Raziel's, undeniably alive. Her soft, still human fingers wandered down his pointed and hardened ears, and she noticed only then how his eyes had widened.
"Well, you're a brazen one, aren't you?"
She blushed, and immediately let go. She leaned backwards over the balcony fence, suddenly fearful.
"I can see why Raziel chose you." He reached out with one tri-fingered hand, and cupped her chin, turning her face towards him. "Quite... delectable..." he said in a low voice, and one razor claw traced a treacherous path down the side of her neck. She cocked her head to expose it, carelessly offering herself to him. She barely knew what she was doing, but her instinct did not fail. He was her Lord. She was His to command, His to possess in any way He wanted.
"Adoile!" His outrage was evident from that first word, and she snapped out of the spell Kain seemed to have put on her, shocked to see Raziel here, now. She'd all but forgotten he existed. "I told you to wait in the courtyard," he said, barely able to contain his anger.
Kain stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Not so harsh, Raziel," she heard his gravelly voice close by her ear, "she meant no harm."
"She is willful and disobedient, and has ignored a direct order," Raziel said, haughtily looking down on her. Fear began to creep into her stomach. Raziel was livid. Kain seemed to look kindly on her, but Raziel was her Lord and father.
"A grave crime," Kain said, with something of mockery in his tone, "we shall have to chastise her." He seemed all too eager to, and Adoile wondered what exactly he meant.
"I will," Raziel answered, with a little extra emphasis on the "I".
Kain bared his fangs at him. "Greedy," he complained.
"The council awaits your attendance, my Lord," Raziel said archly, actually trembling.
"Very well," Kain said, "lead on." He followed Raziel down the hall, and called, without looking back, "Come, little one. You can accompany me."
Even from behind, Adoile could see Raziel bristle. She followed Kain, her heart fluttering with excitement. This was a tremendous honour he was showing her, and she felt fittingly awed and elated, in spite of the nagging suspicion he did this only to annoy his eldest son.
The doors to the troneroom were open, and Raziel strode in to take his proper place between his brethren. All six went down on one knee as Kain passed in between them. Adoile followed close, feeling as though all the eyes in the world were upon her, even though there was no one here but the six lieutenants. Before Kain sat down, he pointed briefly at a spot just in front and to the left of his throne, and she knelt there, at his feet, facing the room.
She recognised them all from their portraits, and realised they even stood in the same order as their portraits were hung in the tower room. Closest to her stood Melchiah, who was bald, next to Rahab, next to Dumah, who looked every bit as powerful as he was reputed to be. Raziel stood on the other side of him, next to Turel, and the boyish Zephon was on the other side of the throne. These last two exchanged a look and Zephon tried to catch Raziel's eye, but Raziel stared stoically at Kain.
"Well met, my sons." Kain's voice rang out dark and clear. While it didn't literally make the ground shake and the skies weep, as Adoile had heard it tell, she could certainly forgive the poet his exaggeration. "I am glad to see you are all still sound, and have not ripped each other's hearts out yet. I hope you bring me good news tonight. The Council has been called by Zephon, so let us hear him."
All turned to Zephon, who took a small step forward. He inclined his head and performed a strange kind of half-bow to greet Kain. "My Lord, I fear I bring no happy tidings. The proverbial wealth of the East is in decline. The mortals in my lands live in hardship and fear; they are losing their faith and many are moving away to the south. I lack the subjects I need to till the fields, maintain the roads and guard what few cities I have." He looked around the circle, pausing for a moment to let all this sink in. There was something about his manner, and his brothers', that gave Adoile the feeling this was not news at all. He continued, his voice trembling slightly. "The reason is that more and more bands of Turelim are roaming the countryside pillaging my lands, killing indiscriminately --"
Turel hissed something at him, but he continued, his eyes on Kain. "-- and wantonly whomever they meet. There are more every year, my Lord, and I cannot protect every single hamlet within my territory. I have discussed the matter with Turel, but he seems unwilling to change the situation. I have called you here for an urgent appeal to my brother to tell his people -- please, relent, and let my herd live in safety once more." He glanced beside him at Turel, whose face showed a displeased grimace. "A safety, I would like to add, they will certainly be willing to pay for."
He stepped back, his speech at an end. There was a short silence, Turel bared his teeth at Zephon, who avoided his eye by looking at his hands. Adoile shifted, sitting kneeled on the hard stone floor was making her feel stiff. She folded her legs to one side, straightening her red, flowing skirt out over her knees. Raziel broke the silence.
"My Lord."
Kain gave him the word. "Raziel?"
"I will confirm Zephon's account. Some of Turel's brood have ventured as far as my lands, and they are either ignorant or indifferent to the concept of territorial rights. They prey upon undefended villagers, and they are merciless. Accounts reach me of a small town along my southern border which was completely wiped out, men, women and children."
"Lies," Turel interrupted angrily, "that wasn't my men." He looked pointedly at Rahab opposite him. Kain raised a hand to silence him. Zephon now bore a confident little smile on his face; he looked at Raziel, who continued.
"Regardless. I would like to support this appeal to Turel, please, keep your kinsmen in check." He had turned to Turel, who met his gaze, undaunted.
"Rahab?" Kain said, and Adoile realised he had asked to be given the word.
"So do I," he said simply. Adoile looked up at Kain, whose eyes went around the circle slowly.
"Turel?" he asked, finally.
"My Lord." Turel stepped forward and nodded respectfully. "I will not claim that my clansmen always find sustenance within the borders of my territory -- that is precisely the problem. Within the borders of my territory, there is precious little sustenance to be found. The furnaces that keep all of you shielded from the sun have turned my own territory into a wasteland. Nothing will grow there, and apart from a few mining settlements and a dwindling city, I don't have a herd anymore; all of the cattle has moved away -- largely into the lands of these three, I might add." He waved an arm in the general direction of Rahab and Raziel. Dumah, stood in between them, grinned humourlessly. "I would like to assert that my men are neither wanton nor indiscriminate, and that they have a right to feed themselves."
"Of course they do," Kain agreed, "And your brothers have a right to defend what is theirs."
"Absolutely," Turel called out. "I would never deny them that."
There was another silence. Adoile looked at Zephon, who was staring at Kain with a desperate expression on his face.
"Very well," Kain said, looking at Raziel. Raziel nodded, briefly, a motion followed by Rahab.
"But I said," Zephon started, but Raziel's grave face stopped his protest short. Slowly, he turned to Kain, and nodded, defeated.
"Good. Any other matters?"
Zephon stamped on the floor with one foot in frustration, but everyone ignored him. Adoile felt sorry for him. The Turelim were vicious animals, even she knew that.
Raziel took the word, or received it in some unseen way. "Rahab, I have a question for you. What happened to that abbey we discussed last time? I still seem to detect a distinct evangelising influence emanating from your lands. Forgive me, but I fail to understand why you allow such dangerous ideas to flourish within your borders."
Adoile suddenly froze up as she felt Kain's fingers playing with her loose curls. She did not dare turn her head to look at him, but she saw that Raziel noticed, and by the look on his face, it did not improve his mood.
"Rahab, how do your monks fare?" Kain asked, and lazily twirled a single curl around his finger.
"Well, my Lord," Rahab said emphatically. "They are of little influence, and serve to give hope to the population, a hope which sustains them. Their doctrine is not dangerous but helpful. Besides, they pay their tithes willingly and without fail."
"They pay you in babies," Zephon interrupted, "it's disgusting!"
Rahab turned to Zephon, but did not deny the claim. "Strange thing, Zephon. One would not expect such religious intolerance from you."
Zephon sneered. "Clever."
Turel laughed, and Adoile tried to suppress a chuckle. She had heard of Zephon's divine status among his people. Her laugh was cut off abruptly when Kain scraped his claws over her scalp. It was painful, but she felt proud to be thus shown affection by him. Raziel fixed Kain with a murderous stare, and in response, Kain cupped the back of her skull in his massive hand, digging his nails in under the bottom edge. She gasped. Surely he could rip off her head without effort now, if he wanted to.
"Is the church a problem for you, Raziel?" he asked.
"Not a problem," Raziel said through clenched teeth, "more of an annoyance."
Kain dug his claws in deeply now, surely drawing blood, and Adoile moaned softly. "I doubt mere annoyance will be your downfall," he said.
Raziel pressed his full, black lips together into a tight line, and merely nodded. Through her haze of pleasure spiced with fear, Adoile began to worry again. If he took even an ounce of that anger out on her she would certainly feel it. She was helpless though, held in thrall by Kain's offhand ministrations.
"Do you bring us any news, Dumah?" Kain asked.
"No news, my Lord. All is well."
"How do our northern rebels fare?"
"Badly."
"Good." He paused for a moment. "Was there anything else?"
There was a long silence, as if they all waited for someone else to speak first. Adoile did not see their faces, lost as she was between the pain and pleasure of being touched by Him. Finally, Raziel spoke up.
"One thing, Kain." It was the first time anyone had addressed the Lord by his name, and Adoile felt his hand twitch in response. Raziel smiled ingratiatingly. "Could I have my daughter back?"
Kain chuckled, and suddenly pushed Adoile away from him. She almost fell forwards, and felt as if she'd woken from a kind of dream. She was exactly where she should be though, and remembered all that had happened. Raziel snapped his fingers, a sign meant for her. She got up and stumbled towards him. He grabbed hold of her shoulder and manoeuvred her in front of him. Kain got up.
As he crossed the room, his six lieutenants went down on one knee once again. Adoile was too stunned and confused to realise what was happening, though. She stared wide-eyed at Kain, unable to make herself move. Without even looking at her, he reached out a hand, mid-stride, and it glowed for a moment with a blue-green aura. Adoile was struck by an irresistible force, which knocked the air from her lungs and slammed her down to the ground.
She groaned and tried to curl up on herself, without much success. Her entire body felt cramped; a blinding pain twisted her muscles as she fought for control. After what seemed like minutes, she crawled up to her hands and knees, panting, slowly recovering from the blow. Kain was long gone, and several of the brothers had left as well. There was a pair of metal-plated boots just in front of her. Raziel.
"Raziel, please," a clear, high-pitched voice spoke. "Can't you..." Zephon. He was stood next to her. She decided not to get up, for now. She wasn't sure she could have anyway.
"I would gladly help, Zephon," Raziel said coldly. "But there is nothing I can do."
Zephon shifted from one foot to the other, clearly wanting to say more. "Thanks for backing me," he said finally, morosely.
"Don't mention it." Raziel turned sharply and started walking towards the door. Adoile scrambled up, her head still reeling, and followed him as he stomped though the hallways, anger emanating from him like a bad smell.
They marched home through the darkness without a word being said. She lingered behind him, wishing he would lecture her, or even punish her. She couldn't bare this ominous silence.
They were met at the gate by Konrad, Raziel's deputy. Raziel greeted him impatiently. Konrad told him there was a conflict, and that the guilty party demanded to be heard by Raziel. He growled and followed Konrad into the outer courtyard, where a small crowd had gathered. Adoile slipped into the crowd, glad to be out of her father's immediate attention, and crept into one of the back alcoves. She had a good view of the room from here, and was out of Raziel's immediate line of sight.. Raziel took position in the centre of the dais, with Konrad beside him. In front of the stage there was a cleared space, where she recognised Harald, one of Raziel's knights, holding on to a fair-haired little man. To the other side of him was a sullen-looking soldier with raven hair. Raziel regarded them both with distaste.
"Well?" he asked.
"These are Damon, son of Robin, and Cowin, his brother. Both serve your son Harald. Cowin complained to his companions that Damon was a coward. When Damon found, he challenged his brother, who was fully prepared to repeat the insult to his face. Damon attacked his brother and impaled him on a spiked shield hanging on the wall. Cowin was found there, half dead and mad for blood loss, and didn't recover until tonight. Having heard his story, I sentenced Damon to five day's dry imprisonment, but he wishes to appeal to you."
Raziel had heard all this with a scowl on his face, looking from Cowin to Damon and back. He fixed his eye on Damon now, and Adoile almost felt sorry for him. He could not have chosen a worse night for this.
"Well, speak," Raziel said, disgust thickening his voice.
Damon knelt briefly, a manoeuvre made more difficult by the fact that Harald was still firmly holding on to his arm. "My Lord, I would not dare ask for leniency; I cannot deny that I was out of order. But Cowin insulted my honour, which I have a right to defend. I accept that I need to be disciplined, my Lord, but five day's imprisonment... It's simply unjust!" The horror on his face was warranted. Adoile had never gone more than half a night without blood, but that had been bad enough. Five days must be unbearable.
"I do not need you to tell me what justice is, whelp!" Raziel said sharply. "You were not defending your honour as it is evident you don't have any. If you did, you would know better than to attempt to murder your brother. Your own blood, Damon!" He turned to the other. "And you, why did you slander him?"
"I did not, Lord," a gruff voice answered. "It's not slander if it's true."
"You lie!" Damon roared, and tried to free himself from Harald's grasp. He failed, and struggled to regain his composure before turning to Raziel. "I am no coward, Lord. And I did not try to murder him -- I hurt him much more than I meant to... in my rage..."
"Silence!" Raziel interrupted. Damon bowed his head. There was a silence, broken only by slight whispers from the crowd. Finally, Raziel shook his head. "Damon," he said dully. "If your father was alive tonight he would have burned with shame to have spawned such a disgrace."
Damon looked up and shook his head, fearful now. He knew he'd lost, he would be lucky to get ten days' imprisonment.
Raziel's voice was loud and sharp when he passed judgment. "Hang him out in the rain for a night."
Adoile gasped, shocked. She had never even heard of such a punishment, although she'd seen the shackles fastened to the outside of the castle walls. A night of rain would have destroyed her. Damon, if he would survive, would be facing long nights of unbearable agony as his body recovered. "No!" he howled, and struggled again to break free, as if he couldn't help himself. Harald shut him up with a sharp word, and turned to the dais.
"My Lord," he said reasonably, "it's not raining."
"It will. Eventually," Raziel said humourlessly. "And in the meantime, he can ponder the meaning of 'restraint'."
Harald nodded, and, helped by Cowin and another of his men, started manoeuvring the feebly protesting Damon outside.
"Anyone else who wants to appeal to me?" Raziel asked. The crowd went very quiet. Adoile crept back into the shadows, hoping to avoid her father's attention. She wasn't so lucky.
"Oh yes, before I forget..." His voice sounded deceptively sweet. "Adoile. Come up here." He wasn't looking at her, probably did not know where she was, but that made no difference. If she refused, her punishment would be ten times worse. Slowly, feeling sick to her stomach, she crawled out of the alcove and put one heavy foot in front of the other towards the dais. Raziel beckoned her onto it and she stood in front of him, her back towards the crowd.
"Adoile, in the mere moments of your existence, you have tried my patience more often that most would manage in a century. Tonight you added open disobedience to a long list of past offenses. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
It was theatre. His rage seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a cold cruelty that twisted the corners of his mouth. There was nothing she could say that could save her. Tears stung her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Lord," she whispered, and dropped to her knees in a gesture of absolute subservience.
Raziel addressed the crowd over her head. "She's very sorry," he hissed, and a nervous laughter rang up. Adoile sobbed silently. She had been warned. 'Raziel the Cruel', they called him, he had told her so himself. He could be fickle, her fellow fledglings had said. The last unfortunate soul who had tended to his rooms had been torn apart in a fit of rage, they had said. She had thought them lies, born out of jealousy. Only now did she believe it, when it was probably too late.
"Adoile," Raziel said, softly but insistently. She raised her head to look at him. "You have been a very naughty girl."
She gaped at him, unable to speak. He drew himself up to his full height.
"There's only one thing I can think of to do with you," he said in a medatitive tone, and paused for another long moment. She waited, a fear clenching her stomach. Why hadn't she run when she had a chance?
Suddenly, Raziel reached out and grabbed her by the nape of the neck. She yelped with surprise as he manoeuvred her over one knee and started bunching up her skirts to expose her backside. Surprise turned to outrage, and she heard herself howl, fighting to get free. It was hopeless. She lacked the leverage to free herself, and Raziel had a dozen times her strength. He won the struggle easily, and the sight of her bare rump was met with loud catcalls and jeering from the crowd. Tears ran down her face as she finally gave up the fight. She felt the warm summer air on her naked skin and heard him laugh softly. The crowd seemed to hold its breath. She was waiting for it, but still the first slap made her cry out in shock, and she struggled to get away again, before she realised it didn't even hurt. The crowd cheered loudly, and he followed it up with sharp, rhythmic slaps. Although it stung, she knew pain was not the issue. He was not doing this to hurt her, but to humiliate her for the mere enjoyment of his clan. Her dignity was given away to them as a present, and they honoured the gift with enthusiastic whistling and wooting.
She wished to die then, wished the ground would swallow her up. She tried to forget where she was, tried to ignore the dreadful noise, but the sharp smacks to her exposed buttocks kept bringing her back to this horrific scene, this complete abasement. She wondered, had she ever been anything but an amusement to him? What of her education, he had taught her himself, told her that she was a noble woman, and need not bow to anyone but him. How foolish had she been to believe his lies, to think she was anything more than his serving girl, a slave!
He laughed again, and she sobbed, the gentle, irregular slaps punctuating her thoughts and her ragged breaths.
Just when she thought he would never stop, he abruptly pulled her back to her feet again. Instinctively, she brushed her skirts back down to cover herself, a gesture that drew a fresh volley of cheerful laughter from the crowd. Her eyes were cast down; she could see nothing for her tears and the straw-coloured curls that fell in front of her face. She was grateful for the concealment. She could feel Raziel standing close by her, his hand still resting at the base of her neck.
"I forgive you, Adoile," he whispered. More mockery. How high she had imagined herself, and how cruelly she had fallen. "Now go to your room," Raziel called over the din, and she ran to the door at the back of the dais, away from their laughter, stumbling blindly through the keep until she dropped down at the bottom of a flight of stairs. For where was she to go but to his rooms? His inner chamber was also her bedroom, the wolves' skin behind the door her only bed. After this, how could she ever meet his eye again? But where was she to go, if not there?
Her feet dragged her on, up the stairs, into his reception room, and she closed the door behind her, still sobbing violently. The closet, she decided. It was small, and stuffed full of chests with arcane treasure and junk, but she had the only key to the door. She locked herself inside. It had a barred window, which meant the sun would wake her and leave her broken tomorrow night, but she did not want to think of tomorrow night. Trying to hate him, she curled up in the cramped space and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep.
She was still very much awake when she heard the main door open, and Raziel's footsteps in the room outside. She knew it was him by his footfall, which was distinct, even though muffled by the carpet. He halted in the middle of the room, as if looking around for something, and she held her breath. More footsteps, the clump of wooden panels and drawers. Keys softly jangling.
She buried her face in her hands. He kept extra keys in the secretaire. She should have known.
As the door opened slowly, new tears forced themselves into her eyes. How could she face him now...?
"Come," he said, his tone not unfriendly, but still commanding. She looked through her fingers and saw an outstretched hand. Obediently, she rose, keeping her eyes on the floor, and followed him across the blood-red carpet into the inner chamber. "On the bed," he said softly.
She plopped down, and immediately brought her hands to her face again. She felt ridiculous, the red taffeta skirts of which she'd been so proud now seemed idiotic. Raziel paced the room, impatiently.
"Oh, stop your sniveling! I didn't even hurt you," he said, irritated.
She tried to obey; wiped her eyes. But tears still thickened her voice when she spoke.
"Why?" She looked up and met his fierce, golden eyes. It froze her on the spot, he was still angry, and looking him in the eye made her stomach turn slightly at the best of times.
"Why what?"
"Why did you have to humiliate me so utterly?" Her voice sounded broken, weak.
His eyes widened, blazing with anger. She quickly looked down again. "I humiliated you?" he shouted. "And what did you do? You made a fool out of me, in front of Kain! Am I to let that lie? Am I to pretend I didn't notice your coquetry? Didn't notice you offering yourself to him? All things considered, Adoile, I think I let you off very lightly."
"I didn't mean to," she said weakly.
He laughed hollowly. "Oh, Adoile..."
She didn't look at him, did not trust the forgiving tone of his voice.
"Such a pretty face," he said, "such a little mind..."
Fresh outrage made her look up. He was smiling at her, one hand on his hip. He laughed at her shocked expression.
"But such pride!" .
She turned away, deeply grieved. "How can you be laughing?" she whispered. "You ruined me. How can I ever face my brothers and sisters again? You've made a mockery of me!"
"Don't be so melodramatic, Adoile," he frowned. He walked over to the door and barred it for the day. "You think you're the first to step out of line? The first to be taught humility? They will forget soon enough. And so will you." He stood in front of her, but she avoided his eye. When he reached out to stroke her hair, she angrily slapped his hand away.
"Come now, don't be angry," he said. "I'm just having a little sport..."
"That's all I am to you, isn't it?" she burst out, her anger finally taking control. "A little sport! A toy to manipulate, or break at your whim!" She had got to her feet and was shouting, careless of the consequences. "Well I refuse to be your plaything! I wish I was someone else's child, I hate you!"
Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through her face and she hit the floor. He had struck her, his claws raking over her cheekbone -- he'd only barely missed her eye.
"You ingrate," he raged. "After all I've given you! I took you in, sheltered and fed you, dressed you in finery and this is how you repay me?"
She cowered on the floor, cradling her burning wound in her hand.
"You are not six months old! Were you anyone else's child, you'd be scrubbing the floors night and day, working for every drop of blood you got!"
His clunking boots approached, and she feared for a moment he would kick her in the face. She curled up in fear.
"You hate me, you say? I gave you all you have, you are nothing without me." He breathed heavily, fighting to get his anger under control. "Don't you ever take that tone with me again, or I will give you reason to hate me." He turned away and leaned his hand on one of the bedposts.
Adoile fell to helpless sobbing. Her wound was healed, but something far more fundamental than physical pain ate away at her very soul.
"Rusanna was right," he said darkly, "I have spoiled you." He sat down on the bed, heavily, and started undoing the clasps on his boots. They were complex contraptions of leather and metal, made to the shape of his cloven feet. In the past months, she had often helped him put them on or take them off. She crawled towards him now, her eyes on the floor.
"Allow me," she whispered.
Without a word, he extended his foot in her direction, and she undid the clasps and laces with trembling fingers.
He sighed. "Adoile, what am I to do with you? I have given you all, and yet you are unhappy. What do you want from me?"
She hesitated. Was this an honest question or an invitation to embarrass herself further? "All I wanted was to see the Sanctuary," she said softly, pulling his boot off. "You keep me locked in here like a dog. I make mistakes -- you shout at me, I'm well-behaved -- you ignore me. Sometimes I doubt you even remember I'm here. I want..." She tugged on his other boot. "I want to be free." It suddenly came loose and she fought to keep her balance. Keeping her eyes on the floor, bracing herself for another tirade, she took up the boots and carried them to the stand that held his armour when he wasn't wearing it. Raziel was still silent. When she looked at him, her face bloodstained and grimy, he was frowning at her with genuine puzzlement.
"But -- you are free!"
She cast her eyes down again, and brushed nonexistent dust from her dress.
"I tell you to stay inside only for your own protection, you are too vulnerable, a single shower of rain -- a particularly fierce rat could kill you!" Her eyes scanned the floor, noticed dirt and loose stones in the carpet. She'd neglected this room. "You have no idea what goes on in the gatehouse of the Sanctuary," he continued, "a gullible child like you... I couldn't risk them getting their hands on you."
She looked up, puzzled. Them?
"I need you to --" He brushed a hand through his fine hair. "I have to know for certain that you are mine," he said, pleadingly.
"I am yours," she said, shrugging slightly. He sighed. She used her sleeve to rub at a small stain on the wooden stand next to her, avoiding his eyes again.
"What would you do with your freedom?" he asked. "Is there somewhere else you'd rather be?"
She shrugged again. She was starting to feel very much like the thankless wretch he obviously thought she was.
"And if he asked -- Adoile?"
She looked up. The look in his eyes was worried, almost frightened. It chilled her to the bone.
"If Kain asked, would you leave me to serve him instead?" he asked, and she knew it was a trick question. There was no right answer to that. She shrugged helplessly.
"As if I could refuse Kain...?"
He looked away, cursed under his breath. A long silence fell. It occurred to her that perhaps it hadn't been a trick question. Perhaps he really wished to know. She approached him, carefully, bravely meeting his questioning and weary-looking eyes.
"Raziel... No..." She reached out and touched his brow, stroked the hair out of his face and traced the fine black veins in his cool, alabaster skin with her fingers. He closed his eyes.
"God, deliver us from the guiles of woman," he groaned.
She let go, offended in spite of herself. He opened his eyes and stroked her cheek gently, a sad smile on his face. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the front of her bodice and hauled her onto the bed behind him. She yelped and landed gracelessly, though softly, on the mattress, her limbs spread out randomly. Raziel went back to stroking her cheek gently, as if nothing had happened, and started undoing the buckle of his shoulderguards with his other hand. She stared at him, frightened.
"Are you true, Adoile?" he asked as though idly wondering. "Or does your pretty face belie a black and treacherous heart?"
She shook her head, afraid to speak. He wrestled out of the shoulderguards and cape he wore for official business and tossed them unceremoniously to the floor.
"'You never know which ones will betray you.' Too true, eh, little one?" His claws sliced through the ribbon that kept her bodice together, and she tried to sink deeper into the mattress. What game was this?
"I would never betray you," she said, her voice tight with fear.
"No?" There was a twinkle in his eye. "Are you so certain?" He ripped open her bodice and she gasped. Here she was, half-naked in her Master's bed, and his eyes bespoke a dark amusement. What was he doing?
"I will be true, always," she gasped, "I swear upon my soul!"
"Your soul? Brave words from a newborn. You had better keep that promise." He put his hand on the red mark in the middle of her chest. Her birthmark, he had called it, and she noticed now it was exactly the same size as his hand. "For if you do not," he continued, pressing down lightly, "your soul will be doomed to wander this keep forever, lost in an eternal twilight, ever far from rest or respite. Thus, I curse you." A blue, shimmering flame enveloped his hand and she felt her heart jump, sending a painful tingling out through her entire body. It lingered in her hands and feet, and she wondered, did he really have such power or was this a simple trick? Did that make any difference?
He gave her a satisfied smile, and she breathed more easily, convinced he would not harm her further now. "Why would I break it?" she asked lightly. He grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim lamplight, and leaned over her.
She screamed when she felt him bite down on the skin of her neck, more with surprise than with pain. He was gentle, drawing out her blood through two small puncture wounds, but she had never felt anything like it and the experience was mind-blowing. She could feel his pull on her blood throughout her body. His will commanded her very being and it obeyed, spouting the blood out into his eager, waiting mouth. She was helpless, unable to resist him even when the hunger flared up in her, burning with the strength of a forest-fire. She groaned, her hands grasping the sheets, thrashing helplessly, unable to escape either his grip or his indomitable will.
When he finally let go she felt as if her hunger would consume her. Her fists were still tangled in the sheets of his bed; her chest heaving with desperate, ragged breaths. She felt as if her very mind was slipping into darkness, and she held on with the desperate strength of the dying.
"This is a test," he said, grinning, his eyes glazed over with the pleasure of bloodlust sated. She clenched her teeth, her back arched; a keening sound escaped her lips. Even through her haze of need, she understood his words. She had to hang on, no matter how hard it was.
He stroked her face gently, and traced his thumb over her drawn lips. The hunger was like a beast inside her, urging her to fight, to bite him, threatening to take control. She must hold on, she grabbed his wrist and moved his hand away. She managed a choked word.
"Please..."
He fixed her with his eyes, an inscrutable smile on his lips, and pulled out a bottle from -- somewhere, she neither knew nor cared where. Her fingers grasped for it before he had managed to pull out the stopper, and when he finally gave it to her she guzzled it down faster than she should have been able to. The last drop gone, she moaned with the pleasure of feeding, the almost painful sense of release as the blood spread through her limbs, releasing her knotted muscles and diffusing her body with a warm glow. She lived again.
"Raziel," she gasped, panting, "please, don't do that to me again..."
He drew himself up to sit against the headboard, and let her put her head in his lap. She curled up alongside him and sighed deeply. It was dawn, she felt. Sleep was creeping in on her.
"Don't worry, you passed the test," he said, gently stroking her hair. "Easily."
She shook her head. None of his tests were easy, especially not tonight's. But if he said she'd passed, that was enough. She drifted to sleep with a contented smile on her lips.