These Violent Delights

by dorsata

When Sharma captures Maerad and Cadvan, it seems as though his dominion over Annar and the seven kingdoms will be complete. Trapped in Dagra, and trying desperately to outmaneuver him, Maerad and Cadvan must rely on their love of each other to protect them. But love may not be enough, and in Dagra, it might even be ruinous. The first in a projected trilogy.

25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Cadvan woke the next morning to find Silvia awake and tending Malgorn nervously. After Cadvan had sworn to protect Silvia, he had roused Saliman to sit with Malgorn. Over the night, it appeared that his fever had increased dramatically. He lay, curled on the cool floor, breathing raggedly, shaking uncontrollably. Cadvan saw the concern on Silvia's face at once and understood that Malgorn's condition had deteriorated. Saliman was kneeling by her, speaking in a low voice, gesturing to the bandages which were stained with blood and sweat.

"You can smell the infection," Saliman said softly, pulling back the bandages. "Hot water isn't going to take care of this."

Silvia worried her lower lip. "Do you think it's a blood infection?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Saliman said. "Those lashes are just open, festering wounds. We can try to drive the infection from his blood, but I'm not sure I have the strength now to do it."

"I'll do it," she said sternly, more to herself than Saliman.

Malgorn stirred as Cadvan joined them, and he pitched forward and retched. Since there was nothing in his stomach, only stomach bile came up, and it burned his throat and nostrils. "Silvia?"

"Malgorn," she breathed, kneeling by his face and lifting it up to hers. She used the hem of her shift to wipe the vomit from his mouth. "Look at me, love, just look at me." She smiled faintly, running her hands through his hair. "I'm going to make you better."

"I know you will," he said weakly, and then slumped back on the ground.

"I'm going to ask Likud for medical supplies," Cadvan said, kneeling beside the others. "I can ask for antibiotics."

"Why would the Hull help?" Silvia asked, glancing between Cadvan and Saliman.

"He and I have something of a rapport," said Cadvan with a twisted smile. "Besides, Malgorn needs to be alive when we get to Dagra. Even Likud isn't going to challenge the Nameless One, not after the fallout with Imank."

Malgorn groaned, eyes fluttering open. "I suppose I should consider myself lucky?"

"Don't speak," Silvia admonished gently. She pressed a cup to his lips. "Take water. Try and sleep."

"Silvia and I will try to fight the poison off, Cadvan, you should go looking for Likud. Even with healing, I think he will need medicine." Saliman took Malgorn's hand and held it tightly and noted how hot it was. "The sooner the better, I think."

Cadvan stood up, brushing dirt from his pants and heading for the door as Silvia and Saliman began the process of healing. As he went, he passed Vaclal, who was checking Finlan over; their eyes met briefly and Cadvan noted how bleak he looked. Finlan must not have been faring well. The doors to the Singing Hall were locked and Cadvan pounded on them until two soldiers loosened the bolts and entered. They eyed Cadvan uncomfortably. For all the times they had seen the Hulls abuse him, the rumor that spread around the camp was that he was a mage of great power, controlled only by the will of their unseen master. He was dangerous as far as they were concerned.

"I need to speak to Likud," Cadvan said stiffly. When neither of them registered the request, Cadvan, shook his head. "I need to speak to Likud, to the captain of the Black Army. Bring him here!"

The soldiers stepped back, eyeing Cadvan like he might suddenly ravage and attack them. One of the ran off while the other stayed, guarding the door at a safe distance from Cadvan. After a few minutes, the soldier returned, Likud in tow looking thunderous. When he saw Cadvan standing on the step, his eyes flashed.

He took the steps two at a time and grabbed Cadvan by his neck, dragging him into the hall. "Who do you think you are, calling for me? Sending my men on errands?"

Cadvan kept his composure, ignoring the feel of the Hull's hands on his bare skin. He caught his eye. "Malgorn is sick, the lashes are infected. He needs medicine and proper bandages and gut and needle."

Likud blinked. "Why do I care what the Bard needs? Perhaps his doctor wife can attend him?"

"He has blood poisoning," Cadvan returned. "Even if we drive the infection out, if we don't seal the wound, he'll keep getting sick, and last I heard, the Nameless One wanted First Bards alive."

"Don't presume to tell me what my orders are," Likud hissed, but Cadvan saw his eyes move to where Silvia and Saliman were bent over Malgorn. He tossed Cadvan aside and stormed over to the Bards. Silvia and Saliman paused in their healing, startled to find the Hull towering over them.

"You idiot Bard," Likud spat, eyes glowing. "Are you so weak you can't even survive a lashing?"

"He needs stitches," Silvia said staunchly.

"I didn't ask you a question," Likud said coldly and pushed the two Bards aside to inspect Malgorn on his own. "Draw the poison out and you can have your needle and gut."

"He'll need medicine-"

"If you do your job properly, he won't," Likud said shortly, standing up.

Saliman's temper prickled at that, as if it were their fault Malgorn was in such poor condition. "If you didn't feel the need to torture every Bard that came into your care, we wouldn't need to do a job."

"Saliman," Likud said, turning his back on him to leave the room, "I would think that a man with a lovely young woman currently in keeping would be more sensible about how he addresses me. If you speak to me like that again, I'm going to slice a few of her fingers off."

Saliman paled. "Leave Hekibel out of it."

"Then keep your mouth shut," Likud said flippantly, heading for the door. "As much as I enjoy a little sport, you Bards are starting to wear me out."

Saliman glowered but said nothing. Silvia and Indik looked particularly shocked by his lack of response: the Saliman they knew didn't simply allow Hulls to taunt him. But, then, the Saliman they knew didn't bear the Sick Moon branded into his wrist. He returned his attention to Malgorn and redoubled his efforts to quell the blood poisoning.

"Malgorn will be alright," Cadvan said, taking a seat by Indik and watching the healing. "Silvia isn't going to let him come to harm."

Indik was quiet a moment, considering the Bard beside him. He had always liked Cadvan, even after he'd heard the stories of his broken youth, Indik had found him a true servant of the Light. But now…now Cadvan had betrayed them and it was hard to reconcile who he was and what he had done. He swallowed and said in a stiff voice, "It is hard for me to see Malgorn like this. How have you managed this entire time?"

Cadvan glanced sharply at Indik, his tone wasn't accusatory, but it wasn't necessarily friendly. "It's not that it's easy, but there isn't much choice."

Indik grunted. "I don't understand what happened, Cadvan," he finally said. "Have you ever asked yourself how it came to this? How did we go from what should have been a glorious end to this miserable existence? Don't you ever wonder?"

"We served the Light-" Cadvan's words were cut off by a sudden cry as Malgorn arched off the floor and screamed. When he slumped on the stone again, Silvia and Malgorn sat back looking exhausted but satisfied. "We served the Light as best we could."

"And look where that got us," Indik snapped, gesturing to Malgorn. "How is this fair?"

"I ask myself that often. It's not," Cadvan agreed, cringing a little at Malgorn. "I try to remind myself to have hope. Maerad thinks there is something wrong with the spell the Nameless One made, and perhaps that it will be his undoing."

Indik shrugged. "And how long will that take I wonder?"

Cadvan didn't say anything, but the thought of waiting for the Nameless One to die made his stomach twist in knots. The return to Dagra loomed nearer and he wondered what new horrors would be there when he did. "Perhaps it is just our fate to wait and see."

"That's certainly a miserable outlook," Indik said, and Cadvan heard a smile in his voice. "Speaking of miserable looking things."

Likud had returned, Hekibel following him at a distance, and she was carrying bandages and needle and gut. Silvia started when she saw the other woman and felt a smile tremble on her lips. Saliman stood at once, tense as a hunting hound at seeing her so close to a Hull.

"And see how generous I am," Likud announced ironically to the Bards. "I bring medicine for the sick, I even bring love for the heartbroken. Do not call me cruel."

None of the Bards felt like pointing out the obvious role Likud played in their suffering and instead, accepted the medicinal supplies without comment. This seemed to annoy Likud, who turned about, looking from face to face, and then rolled his eyes expansively before leaving them to their devices.

"You're alive!" Silvia cried, drawing Hekibel into a tight embrace. "When I heard the news of Lirigon I wasn't sure…"

Hekibel smiled weakly. "It was a near thing, but Saliman found me before I could come to any harm."

Silvia shot a warm look at Saliman and then took the needle and gut. "We have need of these at once. Malgorn is in poor shape." Hekibel's eyes widened and she darted a glance at Cadvan. He stared back, surprised, and shook his head blankly. Silvia saw the exchange. "That Hull thought to punish him, his back it torn up. But perhaps you can help me? I'll need an extra pair of clever hands."

Hekibel followed Silvia dutifully to Malgorn, and she flinched at his condition. His back was, indeed, torn asunder. Silvia woke Malgorn gently, rubbing his face and groaned. When he saw Hekibel peering down at him, his face softened. "So, the Light still shines on us. You survived Lirigon."

"And you survived Innail," she said kindly, kneeling beside him. Silvia was preparing the needle and speaking in a low voice to Saliman, both their faces were drawn and serious. "Are you much of a healer?"

"Not even close, but Silvia knows her way around these things. Good thing, too, or I'd be-" he sputtered into a cough and Hekibel pushed his hair off his brow. "I'd be in trouble."

"You'll be in trouble if you don't heal," Hekibel said lightly, trying to stay cheerful. "Silvia might take it as a personal insult."

Malgorn chuckled. "Aye, you're right there." He noticed Saliman and Silvia approaching and grimaced. "I suppose you need to close me up?"

Silvia sank down beside him and helped him to sit up. Hekibel was alarmed when she saw how weak he was. "If we don't, you'll get another infection. It was a close thing before."

"I know but…" Malgorn glanced around the room. "I don't suppose there's anything I can take for the pain?"

"No, my love, but Saliman and I spoke and we'll both try to work as quickly as possible to stitch." This didn't seem to ease Malgorn at all. "It'll be over in the half the time if we work together."

"And hurt twice as much," he said deliberately.

"We're both fast," Saliman assured, holding up his own needle which had already been strung. "You'll be all the better for it after."

Malgorn drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Right, well, at least give me something to bite while you work."

It took a moment, but they found a shattered piece of timber and Hekibel wrapped it in a shred of her dress. Malgorn bit down firmly and sat up as straight as he could so they could remove the bandages. When Hekibel saw the mess of torn flesh and blood underneath, she gasped, earning a satirical look from Malgorn. Hekibel snatched up his hand, gripping it tightly as they unwound and discarded the bandages.

Saliman paused before setting to stitching. "You may want to sit upright and lean against something. If you're on your stomach and you vomit it'll just pool everywhere. You could choke on it."

Hekibel doubted she would be strong enough to support Malgorn and looked around for someone to hold him. After a beat, Cadvan and Indik joined them and Malgorn leaned on Cadvan's shoulder while Hekibel held his hand tight. Silvia reached around once before they started and turned his chin to face her. They held each other's gaze for a long moment and Silvia planted a kiss on his forehead.

"It'll be over soon, my love," Silvia said softly and Malgorn shivered.

Silvia and Saliman set to work on Malgorn's back. It was a long process, even with two Bard working to close the wounds. Malgorn tried to stay still, but he twitched as the needles pierced his skin, and when Silvia pulled the first line of stitches closed, Malgorn whined into the gag and pressed against Cadvan. Silvia's hands paused but Saliman hissed at her to continue. It didn't get easier after the first whip lash was stitched; the skin around the others was ragged and blistering red, and touching it only inflamed them more. They had managed to get through four lashes before Malgorn moaned and collapsed against Cadvan, he was shaking and his grip on Hekibel's hand caused her bones to grind together.

"It's over half done," Saliman said tonelessly as he set to work on the next injury. "Try to relax, if you move, it takes longer."

Cadvan saw Malgorn roll his eyes and almost laughed as they continued with the stitches. Malgorn made an effort to stay still, and though his grasp on Hekibel tightened and his dependence on Cadvan's support increased, they managed to get through the rest of the stitches smoothly.

"It was brilliantly done," Silvia said, taking Malgorn's face in her hands, pulling the gag out and kissing him passionately. "You did so well."

Malgorn's lips trembled but he managed a faint smile. "I think the praise belongs to you."

Saliman, who was unrolling bandages, glanced up at that and caught Hekibel's eye with a wry look. Silvia glanced up as Malgorn joined them, "We'll wrap the injuries now, then you can rest."

As soon as Saliman had finished attending him, Malgorn pleaded exhaustion and fell asleep, his head in Silvia's lap. She ran her hands through his hair, twisting curls around her fingers, until his breathing evened out and he slept. The other Bards moved away, acutely aware of the intimacy and privacy the moment called for, and joined Vaclal and Finlan and Kelia, who had finally awoken after some tending from Vaclal.

"Malgorn will be alright?" Kelia asked as soon as they sat down. She was watching Silvia closely, studying the movement of her hand in his hair. "He had a bad color about him for most of that."

"We had nothing to numb pain during the stitches," Saliman said heavily, rubbing his hands together as if to bring them to life. "I imagine that hurt fiercely."

Kelia scowled. "That Hull did it on purpose."

"Most likely," agreed Cadvan, "but regardless, he had to get stitches or he would have died from infection."

"He'll survive the journey to Dagra though?" asked Kelia softly. "If this is how Likud treats First Bards, I'd be worried-"

"He'll live," Saliman said sternly, noticing how pale Finlan had gone. "The Nameless One wants the First Circle alive, the First Bards doubly so. Likud isn't going to risk his master's displeasure over that."

Kelia glanced sharply at Indik. "What happens once we get there? What will he want?"

Cadvan and Saliman shared a quick, uncomfortable look. "It's hard to tell," Cadvan finally said. "The Nameless One doesn't make us privy to his plans."

"But you've been," Indik urged. "You know what he wants."

"I know what he wanted with me," said Saliman, "but his interests in you will be very different. I can only begin to imagine his interest in the most powerful Bards in all of Annar the seven kingdoms."

These words settled uncomfortably over the gathered Bards. It was easy to forget, when the world around you was falling apart, that your life still had value beyond the service you could provide your people. They each reflected for a moment on their own strengths and what Sharma might want with them. As if to push away the thought, Indik began an involved conversation with them about the populations of Bards being sent to Dagra, the size of the country, and the ability of the Nameless One to house them all. Though bleak, it was a relief to discuss the fates of others instead of themselves, and they kept on the topic until the night came in.

When the morning rose coolly the next day, a soldier arrived to tell them that they should prepare for travel. Silvia flitted about Malgorn, checking his stitches, his bandages, his eyes for sign of fever. She was pleasantly surprised to find he could walk without aggravating his back too much, and his fever hadn't returned. His face was still pale, though, and he eyed the Hulls warily when the stepped out of the great hall that morning to meet their escort.

Likud was seated on a horse, smiling with ironic mirth at the Bards of the First Circle. "And good morning," Likud said graciously, glancing from face to face. "I see you all look ready for a day of travel."

That was a matter of opinion, as the Bards of Innail were mostly without proper clothes. After their defeat, they had been stripped down to their light trousers and tunics, which would provide little protection against the elements. All of them but Indik had lost their shoes. Finlan, though recovered from the summoning of the wight, now limped as if he'd been injured in battle and Vaclal had to support him. They were, overall, a ragtag assortment.

"We've procured some horses for you," Likud continued in a bright voice. "No need to thank us, of course. It only seemed right that the First Circle go proudly before their people."

Likud's procurement of horses was really two horses, both looking nervous and flighty. Malgorn sighed and carefully mounted a skinny mare. She was clearly not reared by Bards: her mane and tale hung in limp dirty strands and her coat was patchy and flea bitten. She seemed to have something of a limp, and when Malgorn gestured for Silvia to join him, she threw her head back in protest.

"This horse can't support two people," Malgorn said stoutly, rubbing between the poor beast's ears. "I doubt she'll be able to take me all the way."

Likud eyes flicked over the mare. "Then Silvia can walk."

"Barefoot?" Malgorn demanded, but Cadvan came forward, leading Darsor.

"She'll ride with me. Darsor can certainly carry two back to Dagra. He's done once already." Cadvan nodded encouragingly to Silvia. "Let me help you into the saddle.'

"I'll walk beside Malgorn," Silvia demurred.

"You'll ride with Cadvan and not cut your feet to pieces on the road," Malgorn said stiffly. Silvia opened her mouth to protest but he shot her a dark look. "Silvia, we're all going to the same place together. You can ride beside me."

She bit her lip, but the thought of walking to Dagra wasn't appealing. She scrambled up on Darsor and Cadvan swung himself up behind her. "We'll ride close to Malgorn," he said in her ear. "You'll have him in your sight the whole way, I promise."

Silvia felt entirely ungraceful, sitting like a small girl before an adult, her hair in a mess around her, her bare feet bouncing off Darsor's flanks. "I want him in my sight at all times. There's no telling what Likud will do if he's gone for even a moment."

Cadvan obligingly pulled Darsor up beside Malgorn's mare. Malgorn smiled sheepishly at her. "We could hold hands the whole way if we wanted."

Around them, the others were taking their mounts and settling into the saddle. Saliman had once more taken Hekibel up with him, and she sat behind him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Indik had taken the other spare horse, another model of poor care, and had Kelia holding his waist. Likud smirked at the Bards in his care.

"Let us go. This place stinks of the Light and Barding," he spat and kicked his horse into a gallop.

---

Maerad was sitting in her room, watching the young girls in the garden below. They were playing some game: one of the girls had a scarf tied around her eyes, arms flailing about as she reached out desperately to catch one of the others. Occasionally, the blinded girl would call out "Deadman!" and the others would cry back with "Bluff!" leading her here and there as they scattered around the yard. She watched until the girl with the blindfold tumbled into one of her friends, who shrieked like she'd been attacked by a wer, then both fell back giggling. They exchanged roles and the new blindfolded girl spun in a few circles while her friends cried out "bluff" over and over. Maerad turned back to the letter she was writing.

Though she'd been told to write to Crestor, she was penning another letter to Cadvan, but her words had run dry. She considered the letter so far.

Cadvan,

I heard of the fall of Lirigon. I know it does the tragedy disservice, but I am sorry for your loss. I wish I could have seen the city before it was lost. You were going to take me there when this war was over, do you remember? I would have liked very much to see the place you grew up. I fear that many things that were once beautiful and full of Light will fall in this time. If you were here, perhaps I could offer you more comfort, but-

And here, Maerad had stopped. She had no idea what would comfort Cadvan at such a time. Her words rung hollow and her thoughts seemed sluggish and almost indifferent. How was she supposed to tell him, that she too had lost her home and that, after seeing the ruins of Pellinor, she thought that maybe she understood the bitter, empty feeling that formed in the pit of one's stomach? How could she say she understood the stark reality of seeing a beautiful city in ruins was like a blow to the stomach, a force that twisted her insides until she'd wanted to retch? That she could empathize with the desolation of suddenly being alone? A letter was a poor medium to convey such thoughts.

She traced the words thinking of Cadvan; she could picture his face, his gentle smile, his fierce blue eyes. I'm sorry you had to see that, she thought desolately as the cry of "deadman" floated in her window. You didn't deserve to see that.

In the hall, she heard the approach of fast footsteps, the swish of rich fabric on the floor. She hurriedly tucked the letter out of the sight and pulled out the one she had received from Crestor just a few days ago. There was a brief knock on the door, but it swung forward before Maerad could answer and admitted Lyla.

"Some people wait to enter," Maerad observed dryly, turning around

"Some people rise and greet their superiors," Lyla said sharply, looking Maerad up and down. She was still dressed in a silk nightgown, her hair still piled up in a messy bun. "You look like a mess and we have guests coming soon."

Maerad blinked. "I won't see that boy," she said firmly. "I won't be in the same room as him. He doesn't have a right to me."

Lyla sighed, closing the door to the room. "I know you find his behavior distasteful, but it's not your choice. He's requested your company and you're going to give it. Mama Lena said she doesn't care if he gropes you."

Maerad's cheeks grew hot. "She doesn't care, does she? It's fine if some man has his hands on me so long as she gets her money?"

"That's our job," Lyla said evenly. "I won't let him have you, but you're going to continue entertaining him as a suitor. Now, put on a dress and let your hair down. I want to see you before you greet him. And make sure to wear the cloak he offered you!"

Maerad scowled and crossed to her wardrobe looking for a gown in the least flattering colors: a yellow gown with blue lacing. She realized quickly, though, that it didn't matter what she wore, all the gowns were cut to put her figure on display. Frustrated, she let down her hair and brushed it through until the strands gleamed in thick curls. When Lyla inspected her, she seemed pleased.

"Yellow is such a cheerful color. He will think you are celebrating the victories in the North." She pulled Maerad's hair forward so it hung over her shoulders. "You ought to wear flowers or ribbons in your hair to show your support."

"I don't support it," Maerad said through clenched teeth. "If I could, I would wear black and mourn."

"Well, you can't," she said simply. "And don't look so glum. His father is a slaver, remember, and will most likely have interest in the returning captives. It does not do to insult his family's business."

"Business?" Maerad laughed bitterly. "Their business is built on the backs of innocent lives-"

Lyla grabbed Maerad's chin, forcing her to look into her eyes. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I'm familiar with the reality? I'm saying that this man makes his living that way, and if he is to support you, then your money comes from slavery. So, if he brings the topic up, smile, agree and ask polite, intelligent questions. I don't want to see a frown on your face."

Maerad's lips trembled, an insult ready, but she knew there was no point in fighting. She forced her face into a smile. "I'll behave if he does," she bit out.

Lyla placed her hand on the small of Maerad's back and led her forcefully out of the room. "You can wait in the garden for him. Try looking innocent and young, he'll like that."

Though I might not be innocent, I am young, Maerad thought ironically.

In the garden, the girls were still running circles around each other. "Deadman" continued to echo around the small courtyard and Maerad shivered as she took a place under a tree in the shade. She watched the girls jealously, for they were still too young to be of interest to men and spent their days in lessons. One the girls paused in her running to studying Maerad and smiled faintly, but Maerad wasn't feeling very generous and stared back. As the girl went back to her game, Maerad shifted her attention inward.

I suppose it can't be long now before Cadvan and Saliman return, she thought hopefully. Lirigon fell almost two weeks ago. Innail would be close behind. She cringed at the thought of Innail destroyed. My time in this miserable place is almost over. I'll go back to the dark tower and Hem and Cadvan.

She hadn't thought much of Hem in the months since she'd been sent to the brothel. Now, she wondered what had happened to him in the close company of Sharma. Maerad was sure that if he'd died, she would have known, and she was suspicious that Sharma couldn't kill either of them, but it didn't exactly make her rest easy. The last time she'd seen Hem was as Sharma dragged him away on the end of a chain. Assuming he was alive, he probably wasn't in good condition. She turned her attention back to the children running in the yard and envied them. While it was true that these girls would grow up to be nothing more than mistresses for rich men, their lives were not going to be shadowed by the Dark.

It's not their fault, but it's still not fair, she thought, uncomfortable with her own bitter opinions.

After a time, she heard Lyla's voice coming from the house and knew that Crestor was there, and she was bringing him to Maerad. She drew a deep breath and arranged herself into a graceful, almost carefree position with her back against the tree for support. She opened up a book and let his sit open on her lap, studying the words thoughtfully. Maerad knew how she would look when Crestor came out: intelligent, elegant and a little playful.

"How now, mistress Maerad?" Crestor's voice echoed across the yard and Maerad stirred, looking up. Crestor was coming across the grass dressed handsomely in dark blue and gold. The young girls dispersed like a flock of birds at the sight of a man and rushed to stand in the doorway, spying on the two.

Maerad peered up as his shadow fell across her. "Crestor."

He smiled brightly, eyes gleaming at the sight of her looking up at him. "You're reading? What does a beautiful woman have to read about? Surely, you should be spending the day relaxing in the sun or playing with your friends."

Maerad's smile was narrow. "Reading is relaxing." She had thought her chipped words would alert him to her mood, but Crestor seemed indifferent. He sat beside her and took the book from her hands without comment.

"This is a history," he said mildly. "No poetry for the songbird?"

The Light only knows what poetry is like in this place. Maerad shrugged. "I thought it best to educate myself a little on this country. If I am to live here, I might as well know a little of its foundation."

Crestor flicked through the book. "You can always just ask me. I've spent enough time pouring over books during my school years."

"I enjoy the pursuit of knowledge," Maerad returned firmly.

"Your eyes will go bad trying to read this." Crestor tucked the book into a pocket in his cloak and stood up, offering Maerad a hand. She briefly considered shoving him away but thought better of it and allowed him to help her up. "What would you do if you couldn't play your music anymore because you'd ruined your eyes on silly books?"

"One hardly needs eyes to play music. I know my lyre better than I know the back of my hand."

"I hope so!" Crestor said, delighted. "I brought my own instrument today and I thought we could play a piece together."

"Perhaps tonight, but, as you said, I should be out enjoying the sun." She flashed him a look, so see if he might leave her be, but he was smiling as he considered her words.

"Then we shall eat and drink out here, and I will tell you of my country. That way, you need not lose the sun or your eyes."

Clever enough to always get what he wants, Maerad thought to herself, and hurried to the kitchen to find food and small ale.

Tucked in the corner of the court yard, Maerad laid out their meal on a stone bench. Crestor watched her slice bread and place cheese and meat in generous helpings on either side of the plate. He licked his lips as she poured ale into cups, watching her hands balance the weight of the jug. He sat back to admire her when she lifted her own glass as in toast to him.

"And do what do we toast?" Maerad asked.

"Victory," Crestor said seriously. "For I've just heard that the army has announced the north conquered and is already returning."

Maerad almost dropped her cup. "They've won? Innail has fallen?"

Crestor eyed her speculatively. "I'm not sure what Innail is, but the ravens have already returned saying that the cities are captured and the slaves marching back with the army. Some are expected this very day."

"But how did it happen?" Maerad asked impatiently. "Were the opposing forces completely overwhelmed?"

"So it's said," Crestor said cheerfully, taking a long draw on his ale. "Cities burned, enemies slaughtered, the spoils of war returning here. The army should be back in a month or so. The city will celebrate."

Though she knew it had been bound to happen, Maerad felt herself her cold. Innail had been destroyed and its people slaughtered. Her thoughts went first to Silvia, who would have undoubtedly been at the front lines, defending her city. She wondered if Silvia's place on the First Circle condemned her or saved her, and even if she had been spared, what would happen to her once she was brought to Dagra? Maerad gripped her mug tighter, trembling.

"In less than a month the army will return?"

"Already contingents have been coming back. My father and I came up to the city to see the slave they're brought back."

"From where?" Maerad asked sharply.

"I haven't the slightest notion," Crestor said slowly. His brow furrowed. "It's a bit frustrating, to be honest. Some of them, we can make offers on, but others, the captains of the army say are not for sale. They say that some of the slaves must remain in Dagra."

They must be Bards, Maerad mused. You can't send Bards as slaves to normal men and women. "And have you seen them?"

Crestor laughed loudly. "Are you thinking of becoming a slaver, Maerad? Why such interest in the prisoners?"

Maerad seethed. Surely, Crestor realized she was from the north, and that she might have friends and family who were brought back? "I'm interested in the war."

"I see." He smiled at her around his cup. "Well, this part of the war is almost over. The cities are ours and the soldiers return home to celebrations. A new age is opening up before the people of Den Raven. Who's to say? Perhaps I will go north and start anew there. Perhaps I'll take you as my guide."

Maerad placed the cup down gently. "Mama Lena would have to decide that."

"I know it, and I've half a mind to speak with her about tonight." He finished his mug and placed his hand on Maerad's knee. "I would take you to all your favorite places, I would let you see all the things you've lost." His voice was low and Maerad tensed, ready to flee.

"I think it would make me too sad," she said stiffly.

"Then I will take you to new places," he said firmly, moving closer so their legs bumped. Maerad glanced around the yard and found that they were, once again, completely alone. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his stare resting on her face, her arms, her fluttering pulse at her throat. "You need to trust me to do right by you."

"My lord," Maerad said clearly. "I do trust you, but I am in service to this house and I will only leave if Mama Lena allows it. It has absolutely nothing to do with you."

Those last words were cutting, and Crestor's face darkened and his hand on her knee tightened. "You make your bed where you are ordered? It matters not whose bed then?"

"That's not what I said," Maerad said coldly, catching his eye. She wouldn't be bullied by some idiot boy, not when she was a Bard, not when she had faced Sharma himself and lived to tell the tale. "I told you the truth. If you don't like it, you're free to leave or seek the comforts and pleasures of a different young woman. I don't hold you to an oath."

The implied meaning of those words was, of course, that Crestor couldn't seek the comforts of other women as he was the youngest son of a lord and so had little to offer. "You ought to consider your words carefully, mistress Maerad. I am not someone to be trifled with."

"Neither am I," Maerad returned with icy politeness. "Take your hand off my knee, I've not given you leave to touch me."

"I don't need your leave." He jerked her forward so Maerad was inches from his face. He leaned forward and kissed her and Maerad withered in his grasp. She felt his host breath on her face and neck and her fingers began to burn as White Fire sprung to life in her. Her hand clamped in a ball, ready to strike him in the stomach but a trilling laugh filled the air and Crestor pulled away regretfully.

"They're out here somewhere, I'm sure," Lyla said, leading none other than Mama Lena into the garden.

Maerad jumped to her feet, grateful for any distraction that would end her time with Crestor. "Madam."

She looked between Maerad and Crestor with hawk-like ferocity. One of her dark eyebrows arched ironically. "I need to speak with Maerad," she said by way of apology to Crestor. "It won't be long, perhaps an hour. You are more than welcome to wait, but I understand if business calls you elsewhere."

Maerad wished he would leave, but Crestor said politely, "I'll stay and finish this meal. Maerad has promised me a song this evening."

Mama Lena tipped her head slightly. "As you'll have it. Lyla, stay here and give our guest some company. Maerad, come."

Not deigning to farewell Crestor, Maerad swept off after the madam. They walked in silence back into the house and to Mama Lena's private study. It was a spacious room, the walls muffled by the books and ledgers that lines the walls. Comfortable armchairs were arranged before a small hearth, but Maerad was led to a large wood desk and directed to a hard chair. She sat, watching as Mama Lena poured herself a glass of something dark and relaxed back into her chair. She surveyed Maerad with keen interest.

"Lyla's worked a miracle with you," she observed. "You could almost pass for a lady."

Maerad looked out the window, her temper high and a sharp response on her lips. "Give her a trophy."

"Don't be smart, it doesn't become you." Mama Lena sipped her glass. "Crestor and his father have made a handsome offer for you. I was surprised."

Maerad paled. "I thought we'd agreed that I was to go untouched."

"We have. Do not worry your pretty little head over it." She placed the glass down and removed a letter with a scribbled message. "You lord is expected back from this war soon. In the next few weeks, it says. Your time with us is coming to its end."

Relief washed over her like a wave. Cadvan could not have found a better time than now. "I'm leaving?"

"Not yet, so don't look so excited." She looked Maerad over carefully, considering the girl for a long moment. Her face softened imperceptibly. "Tell me, girl, do you really want to return to that place?"

Maerad frowned. What sort of game was the madam playing? "Of course, I want to go back."

"I find that a little hard to believe. I saw the mark on your chest, I know you were not kept well while you were there." She sat back, waiting for Maerad to speak. Maerad, though, was confused and remained quiet. "Answer to me honestly, are you afraid?"

Maerad thought of what waited back in the dark tower: the Hulls, the monsters of the Dark, Sharma himself and his vengeful malice. But her brother was there, and Cadvan was there, and everyone she loved would be there soon. Perhaps she was terrified, but to stay away was unbearable. "You don't understand. I have to go back."

"But do you want to?"

"Of course."

Mama Lena sighed. "I've spoken to Lyla. I know your feelings regarding Crestor, but I think you might find that if you used your wits a bit more, you could manage him. He is young and finds you striking. He would do what you asked if you asked a bit sweeter."

Maerad suddenly realized that Mama Lena was trying to offer her protection. She clearly thought, rightly so, that Maerad was in danger if she went back to the dark tower, and that by offering to let her stay and pursue her courtship with Crestor, she would be safer. Maerad almost laughed at the absurdity. Yes, returning to Sharma's care was terrifying, but stay away was unbearable.

"It's hard to explain," Maerad said, toying with her fingers.

"If your lord is unduly cruel-"

"It's not him who is cruel," Maerad said quickly.

"Someone else then?"

"Yes, someone else." Maerad bowed her head. Even if she told the truth, she doubted Mama Lena could do much about it. "I have to go back. I have-well my family is there. My friends also. I have no desire to abandon them."

"You would risk great pain for this?" Mama Lena shook her head. "You could spare yourself much torment if you agreed to Crestor's suit."

"Frankly, I'd rather be dead," Maerad said in a cool voice. "Whatever my fate, I'm afraid it's up in that tower."

Mama Lena turned her gaze to the window and in the distance she saw the black spire of Sharma's palace. "You seem certain of that, which is unfortunate, but so be it. I've been given two more weeks with you, which seems a ridiculously short time to make any progress."

"Perhaps I should stop entertaining Crestor?"

Mama Lena smiled wryly. "I don't think so. He's quite fond of you and spends good money. The least you can do with the rest of your time is pay back a little of what was given. The skills you've learned are invaluable to a young woman on the rise."

That seemed debatable, but then…perhaps Hulls were beyond beguiling but the other servants of Sharma might not be so discerning. "If I must."

"You must, so smile once in a while," Mama Lena warned. "I want Crestor coming back until the day you leave."

Though the thought of spending the next two weeks with Crestor gulled her, as Maerad joined them a bit later and took out her lyre, she was thinking of Cadvan. He was coming back to Dagra, he had lived and they would be reunited again. She felt her heart swelling with hope, a warmth in her that couldn't be quenched. Cadvan was coming back, and she would be with him soon. After months apart, two weeks would be as easy as breathing.