Rishid brushed a cold cloth across Marik's forehead. The boy had managed to eat most of the food that had been brought to him, but now he was so exhausted and incoherent that the man knew more than ever that he needed to rest again. But now he refused to be angry about it. Marik needed gentleness. Rishid realized that scolding would not help. He hadn't ever meant to scold the boy . . . it was just something that had happened. Something that shouldn't have.
He glanced back over at the plate of applesauce and noticed several spoonfuls left. Marik had simply been too weary to lift the spoon one more time. But he had wanted the rest of the food. The boy had been so very hungry and yet he had barely been able to eat. This made Rishid's heart sad. It seemed Marik had barely been able to do anything that he had wished. Except . . . Rishid admitted to himself that Marik had found his way past this cold man's facade when he had wanted to. Marik had reawakened a side of him that he hadn't known existed. And . . . it felt good.
Rishid barely stopped to think about what he did next. For once today perhaps he could show Marik complete kindness with no defensive shields mixed in. Carefully he took the plate in his hands and raised the spoon. "Here," he said quietly, wondering if Marik was still conscious.
He was. The boy opened glassy eyes and looked through half-open lids. "What . . . what is it?" he asked in confusion, still battling for his vision. He didn't know how he had ever managed to eat the food that he had, when he had barely even been able to see the spoon and plate in front of him. Now he was so exhausted. . . . The last thing he had expected was to find this Rishid offering him something. He had imagined that he probably would have drifted off into senselessness and Rishid would then have gone back to whatever important matters of the kingdom he had been attending to before any of this happened. Instead Rishid was still staying with him.
"You are still hungry," Rishid replied. "I will feed you the rest." He gave no explanation and simply continued to hold the spoon out.
Marik struggled to gaze up at him. "You . . . you will?" he asked. His mind couldn't comprehend. "Why? I . . . I thought you'd probably have other things that you would find more important." After all, Rishid had an entire kingdom to manage. But he chose to remain with this injured, strange boy instead?
Rishid let him eat the applesauce from the spoon. "Because you deserve it is why," he said finally, not addressing Marik's last remark. "Whoever you are, I can see you are courageous and strong-willed. And stubborn." He grunted a bit, partially from real irritation and partially from the same in mocking.
"'Whoever I am'?" Marik repeated, slowly eating another spoonful as Rishid offered it. A morose look came over him. "You said that . . . that if I rested, you would trust my story." Rishid surely wouldn't have only been saying that just to get him to lay down . . . would he have? In the past, Rishid never would have dreamed of it. Marik couldn't believe that the man's sense of honor had changed. He had been pretty much the same Rishid as always when Marik had seen him in the throne room, despite the barrier he had built around his heart. When the youth was a bit depressed, he would remember how Rishid had viciously snapped the cruel spear in two and then tended to the vicious wounds he, Marik, had sustained. That made him feel much better, as did the fact that Rishid was staying here still caring for him.
Rishid sighed. "That, I did promise," he agreed. And he intended to try his best to make good on his promise. It was hard, however, to suddenly address and think of the boy positively as his brother. But he would try. He helped Marik finish the rest of the applesauce, lost deeply in thought while he did so.
When Marik was finished, he licked his lips and laid back against the soft pillow, gratitude in the weary eyes and smile. "Thank you, Rishid," he whispered. He took a few sips of water and then tried to burrow into the quilt. Still there was so much he needed to do. . . . Ishizu still had to be found. Marik had to help Rishid regain his memory. They had to fight the evil one who was destroying the kingdom. But for now, the poor boy had to sleep. That was what he had to concentrate on, and Rishid would make certain he did.
"You have more than earned a quiet, uninterrupted slumber," Rishid told him as the boy rolled onto his side and almost immediately drifted off, ignoring the wounds he was laying on. Marik's body was so battered . . . so wounded. . . . But the youth had barely noticed any of the pain at all. He was so determined to help Rishid remember that he had been more than willing to risk his own well-being to do so. And now he was simply too exhausted to notice the pain.
A soft light shone in Rishid's golden eyes as he adjusted the quilt better around the gentle boy's weak form. He was finding himself being more and more content and free when he was around this young spirit. And as the hours wore on, he couldn't imagine ever not having him around. Marik was deeply entwined in Rishid's heart and soul, whether the man wanted to consciously admit it or not.
Now Marik tossed around in the bed with a soft moan, looking pained. Gently Rishid brushed the boy's bangs aside and touched the warm forehead, narrowing his eyes in concern. Was Marik getting a fever? Could any of his wounds be infected? Rishid wouldn't doubt it, after everything the youth had come through and done.
"Oh you foolish, foolish boy," Rishid growled. He struggled to get his brother to hold still without hurting him, and Marik relaxed under his grip, whispering in a language Rishid didn't know. Those in the kingdom of Juno all spoke English, save for a small village of Celtic descent. And Marik definitely wasn't speaking in the Celtic language.
Rishid gazed at Marik again, observing something else as he gently removed his hands from the boy's shoulders. Their skin was darker than many of those in the land. Supposing they were adopted brothers. . . . What sort of country had they come from? Marik had said they belonged in Domino City, but Rishid didn't know at all where that was. Rishid had noticed Marik's tanned skin as soon as the boy had stumbled into the throne room the previous evening, but he had determined that he wouldn't use that to decide whether Marik was telling the truth or not. Marik could even be using his darker skin to try to make Rishid think they were related. That was actually something Rishid had thought a while ago. But not anymore. Perhaps they were brothers, separated by an unfair twist of fate and now reunited.
Rishid was accepting this thought more now as he watched Marik. He had wished so bad over the past hours that Marik actually was his brother, and now he was starting to genuinely believe it could be true. And if it were . . . Rishid realized that he had treated the boy so terribly. Guilt washed over him. Some of what he had said and done he never would have wanted to say and do to his brother. Marik obviously loved him very much and Rishid wanted to return that love. He just wasn't completely certain how. He felt that his heart had been sealed up for such a long time and that it was hard to show any love to anyone. But perhaps he could learn again. He wanted to.
Certain that Marik could not hear him, Rishid laid a hand on his shoulder gently. "There is nothing more important to me now than you," he said in a quiet tone, remembering Marik's comment from earlier. "Nothing at all."
And Marik smiled.
Ishizu crept down the tunnel, narrowing her eyes as her foot became entangled in yet another cobweb. The path seemed to go on endlessly, with multitudes of twists and turns that were unexpected. Not to mention the booby traps. Obviously this wasn't a good place to trespass. Spears had shot out of the stone walls, tearing holes through Ishizu's white cape and barely missing her delicate skin. Then, when she had traveled a bit further, part of the ceiling had tried to move down and crush her. Never could she forget the horrid shaking as the marble had come closer, ever closer to her. No matter where she had moved, the section of ceiling above her had began to lower. Only after falling down a steep staircase had she finally been safe. And now, as Ishizu struggled to extract herself from the silky entrapment she was in, she found that the floor underneath her was starting to crumble. For all she knew, there could be a bed of spikes waiting below.
Frantically the woman undid the necklace she was wearing and used one of its two odd, pointed decorations to cut through the thick web. She wished she knew why she had the jewelry. It had been with her when she had woken up in the palace wing with Lord Colchis bending over her to see if she was badly hurt. He had refused to tell her anything about who she was and instead had simply said that he had found her and rescued her from some sort of danger. She could see the future, he had said, and now that he had saved her she owed her services to the palace as a priestess. Perhaps it was the necklace that gave her the powers she possessed, she thought now as she managed to get free.
But it didn't give her the power to get away from the collapsing stones. As she darted forward, trying so desperately to get to safety in time, the entire section of flooring gave out at once and sent her falling into the darkness. Though she hadn't wanted it to happen, her mouth opened in a piercing scream that echoed down every corridor.
Abruptly her horrifying fall was brought to a halt as she landed with a splash in shallow water. After laying dazed for several long moments, Ishizu slowly pulled herself onto her hands and knees and tried to study her surroundings. It was so dark all around her. . . . She could see nothing, but sounds seemed plentiful. Every now and then came the firm plink plink of dripping water from nearby. Up ahead, perhaps outside, Ishizu could hear water rushing fast and frantic. She must have wound up in the basement, the woman decided. A far cry from where she had wanted to be.
She also was almost certain she could hear something moving in the water with her. What could it be! Ishizu froze, hoping that by going completely still she could determine better. But whatever it was froze right along with her.
A soft glow abruptly came from under the water, giving light to Ishizu's predicament. It took her a moment to comprehend, but then she realized that the strange necklace was what was doing this. Carefully she lifted it out from the dark liquid and replaced it around her throat before looking around desperately to see her stalker.
What met her eyes was a horrible, grisly sight. Not only was she in the basement, but it seemed to have been an old dungeon in years past. Rusted, bloodied shackles hung from every wall and various instruments of torment had been placed on high shelves. Skeletal hands were fastened in at least half of the shackles, and most of those still had the rest of the corpse attached as well. Mutilated cloth, obviously whatever remained of these poor souls' garments, was draped across some of their remains. Ishizu tensed and backed up against the nearest wall, her heart racing. How would she get out of this! These people had never been able to escape.
Several bones floated past her in the murky water, as if daring her to follow their path. Ishizu watched as they headed in the direction of the nearest corner . . . and then were abruptly pulled below the surface, one by one. She hadn't been wrong in her fear. Something else living was down here, and it wasn't friendly. And after another intense look around, Ishizu knew again that there was no way out.
It was coming toward her now. She saw the water moving, but because of the darkness of it she couldn't make out any shapes underneath. Wait . . . there was more than one. They were coming at her from every available direction. Green, bumpy skin started to rise from the water, hungry yellow eyes gleaming amid the near-darkness as they lighted upon the hapless Ishizu. Crocodiles! There were crocodiles down here!
The one nearest to her snapped out with its enormous jaws and took hold of Ishizu's palace gown, apparently wanting to pull her to its ravenous mouth. Grabbing a nearby rib bone, Ishizu fought back viciously and hit the reptile repeatedly between the eyes and on the top of its mouth. The crocodile hissed loudly at her and only pulled harder on the skirt of her dress. And instead of the material simply just tearing free, as she wished it would as opposed to the alternatives, she found herself losing her balance and starting to topple into the water. The beasts all gathered around as she fell, confident that they would get their meal.
But nothing happened. Ishizu drew her breath in sharply as she felt a comforting embrace settle around her. Something . . . or someone . . . was protecting her. And the crocodiles knew it. Slowly they began to back up in the water, looking apprehensive and actually a bit terrified. Before long they had all vanished under the surface again, swimming in the opposite direction and obviously wanting to get away as fast as they could.
Ishizu now let out the breath she had been holding as she straightened up again. The feeling of peace was still with her. Though she didn't know how or why, she knew that her life had just been saved. "Thank you," she whispered quietly, wishing she could see her savior. "Whoever you are, I thank you deeply." She didn't know who was here. The spirits of those who had once been prisoners, perhaps? Maybe they hadn't wanted another poor soul to suffer their fate. Or perhaps . . . perhaps it was someone else. A departed loved one?
She felt a gentle squeeze, as if she had been lovingly hugged once more, and then the presence was gone. But now she had renewed hope. There had to be some way out. If nothing else, she could follow the water until she found where it went outside. She would get out. She refused to allow herself to wind up as the unfortunate ones of the past had. Not when she had a brother and a king to find.
Rishid bent over Marik worriedly. He had been doing this a lot in the past few minutes, but recently the injured boy had fallen so still that Rishid, frankly, had grown quite worried in spite of himself. He couldn't comprehend why Marik had suddenly stopped moving. That shouldn't have happened. It hadn't been that long ago when Marik had been tossing around in obvious distress. Now he was so quiet . . . and not the way he was when he was just sleeping peacefully.
"Please," Rishid whispered softly, feeling his heart being wrenched around within his chest. "Oh, Marik . . . what is wrong? You cannot leave me!" His true feelings were manifesting themselves before he could make any move to stop them. And he didn't care. He still recalled how he had softly assured Marik that he was the most important thing to him. And it was true. In the back of his mind—but more so in his heart—Rishid knew it was. The boy was a precious treasure sent to him from God, and Rishid refused to lose him now!
But surely Marik wasn't so ill that he would . . . pass on. . . . Rishid had been certain that the boy would get better. Carefully he leaned down until his ear was pressed against Marik's chest. Hearing the soft thump of Marik's beating heart, the man straightened up again in relief and gave a soft smile. Of course the youth would live. It was foolish to think otherwise.
A knock on the door startled him out of further thought.
"Lord Odion?"
Rishid grunted. More than likely the vaguely familiar voice belonged to one of the servants who was so incompetent that he couldn't take care of his assignment all by himself, the man thought with irritation. But then again, it could be serious news coming to him. Coldly he called through the heavy slab separating them, asking what the person wanted and if it was really important enough for him to be bothered with.
A nervous gulp was heard clearly from the hallway and Rishid deduced that the one fumbling to get himself under control was the messenger boy who had brought the news of the attack on Moghur several weeks previous. Indeed, his quavering voice could suddenly be heard. "Lord Odion, I hate to be the one to report this, but . . ."
Instantly Rishid flung the door open and glared daggers at this younger man. Just once Rishid wished he would show some backbone. The messenger boy wasn't much older than Marik (perhaps a year or two. Rishid had determined that Marik was about sixteen), but so far Rishid had never seen the same strength and boldness in him as he saw all the time in the enigmatic tan-skinned youth who was laying half-deceased in his bed. "Well, what is it?" Rishid snarled. "If you have something to say, you should simply say it. I have other ways to spend my time than standing at the door waiting to hear you speak!"
The young courier tugged on his collar absentmindedly as his loose brown hair flopped into his eyes. "I . . . I . . . forgive me, Lord Odion," he stammered at last, giving a low, sweeping bow almost to the floor. Rishid always intimidated him so! And he knew the ruler would not be happy with the news he had brought. Always he dreaded coming to speak with Rishid. Usually he would say such things as that he'd rather fall into a cactus plant instead of telling the king bad news. "The . . . the truth is, sir, that the Red Zealot had struck again. . . ." He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the explosion of anger he knew would come.
But, though Rishid was understandably enraged at this information, he forced himself not to bellow. He didn't want to disturb Marik, not when the boy was getting some of the rest he so badly needed. "Where?" he demanded coldly, gripping the doorframe. He had failed again to stop a massacre! Again he felt that he was the wrong person to be king over this land. How could he feel otherwise, when he couldn't protect the people from this menace? Everything he had tried had fizzled out. And never had he even come close to finding the Red Zealot.
The messenger boy began to play with the feather on his cap. "It happened in that small village over yonder, sir," he said finally, pointing out the window. "The . . . the army was supposed to go there, but . . ."
"They never arrived," Rishid finished for him with a growl. He suspected by now that someone (or someones) in the army were part of the problem, and he had had spies watching the soldiers for weeks, but nothing out of the ordinary had been reported. Rishid truly despised all of this. It was absolutely impossible to know who he could trust. Perhaps even the entire army and and the spies were all corrupt. The entire problem was driving him mad.
"That's right, Lord Odion," the courier admitted softly. Truthfully, he thought Rishid was doing all he could to capture the Red Zealot. There wasn't a whole lot that could be done in a case so strange as this, but Rishid had tried it all. And though the man was angry and cold much of the time, this young soul had decided that there was a perfectly good reason for that. There was so much weighing on his shoulders right now. No one could expect him to be cheerful.
Rishid gritted his teeth. "How many are dead?"
"Almost a third of the people, sir," the messenger boy told him.
He glanced behind Rishid and saw Marik laying still in the bed. So this was the strange boy he had heard about, he thought to himself. And the reason, most likely, for Rishid's struggle for (relative) calmness—he didn't want to wake the teen up.
Marik's presence in the palace had caused quite a stir. Everyone had been talking of how Rishid had taken the poor thing in under his wing, so to speak, and was trying to nurse him back to health. Some seemed to disapprove of the man's actions. The courier had heard whispered things about Marik such as "No matter how innocent he looks, he could be the Red Zealot" and "He could be hiding an evil, devious mind," but as for himself, he trusted Rishid's judgement. If Rishid had decided that the boy was worth helping, then this courier could live with that. He was actually very happy that Rishid was so much different than the past kings the kingdom had dealt with. None of the other kings would have so much as lifted a finger to help Marik if he had wound up in their throne rooms battered and bleeding and talking of any of them being his brother. They would have imprisoned him or even perhaps killed him on the spot.
Rishid followed the courier's gaze. "Find out what's happening to my army!" he bellowed quietly, advancing back into the room and going to Marik's side. He could see that the youth was looking very pale. "And bring me the palace doctor—NOW!" Gently he raised Marik's limp arm and took his pulse.
The messenger boy watched him, swallowing hard. "Of . . . of course, Lord Odion. Right away!" he assured his ruler, heading out the door. As if suddenly having a second thought, he peered back in again with concerned eyes. "He . . . he is going to get better, isn't he?" Marik wasn't that much younger than he himself and he hated the thought of one so close to him in age being brought to the end of his mortal existence. What was more, he knew it would crush Rishid if the boy perished.
Rishid dipped a cloth in cool water and then began to dab it across Marik's face. "He is going to be fine," the man growled in a warning sort of tone, signaling that the courier had best do his bidding now instead of asking questions. Especially questions that he himself really didn't know the answer to.
The messenger boy swallowed hard and then saluted Rishid shakily before hastening to do his duty. Rishid barely noticed as the lanky youth left, so intent was he on helping Marik.
Such an innocent boy, Rishid thought to himself as Marik gave a rasping breath. Not innocent in the way of naivete—Marik couldn't be further from that—but in the way of having a pure heart. And, even if just for a moment, Rishid felt that he would give his very life to keep this soul alive.
Ishizu felt her way along the weather-beaten wall, her heart finally slowing to its normal speed. Since the crocodiles had retreated, nothing else had tried to hinder her on her way. Something in her heart told her that she was desperately needed by someone—right now. No matter what, she had to find this person. Was it the boy from her dreams? Was it the king? Or both of them?
Ishizu clutched the small pouch she was wearing around her neck, hoping that she had brought the right herbs to save whoever needed them. Many things were a mystery to her, not the least of which was why she had to bring this bag with her. But she had learned that she had to follow her inner feelings, and so she had brought it.
She had just barely tucked it away again when she felt the cold grip of a familiar hand on her shoulder. A wicked, strong, clammy hand.
"Ah, Isis. Isis, my dear. Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Lord Colchis's unwelcome tones floated down to her and she froze. This was the last person she wanted to see! How could he interfere now, when she needed so badly to get to someone! Colchis would never let her go, not if he could help it.
"You shouldn't be out wandering," Colchis said now, speaking smoothly. "Do allow me to . . . escort you back." He dug his fingernails sharply into her flesh.
Wordlessly Ishizu now wrenched his hand away, moving back from the panel where he was leaning out. If only she could get through the opening without worrying about this man! It might be her only hope. "You are not a prison master," Ishizu said coldly. "Especially not mine. I will do what I please. And now I will be on my way." The last thing she wanted to do was show any fear, even though her heart was racing wildly. She didn't know how on earth Colchis had tracked her down here. Had he found the passageway and known where she was likely to end up! But how could he have unless he already knew the panel in her room was there and was familiar with its paths? And why would he have locked her in that room if he had known?
"Spunky little girl, aren't you." Colchis grinned, gripping Ishizu's chin. She retaliated by kicking him harshly, forcing him back and trying to get past him into the entranceway of the tunnel. Ishizu was frantic. She had to get to those who needed her! She couldn't waste her time here!
Colchis grabbed her cape and pulled, tearing it loose from her bare shoulders. "You know something!" he screamed, all facades of being gentlemanly gone. He reached for the back of Ishizu's dress to pull her to him, a crazed look in his eyes. "WHAT IS IT YOU KNOW!" She must have all the secrets he wanted so desperately! That was why she was trying to get away! His grip tightened. He couldn't allow her to leave him. He couldn't ever allow it.
Ishizu struggled against him with all of her might, pulling free at last and leaving Colchis with the part of her dress that had once covered her shoulder blades. Desperately she ran past him and into the passageway. Never would she tell this abomination anything!
She knew he was following her. She could hear his furious footsteps crashing on the stones behind her, but she refused to turn around and look. Feeling along the wall in desperation, Ishizu discovered a loose block and she struggled to move it. Please! she prayed, pulling harder. At last it came free, opening a panel in the wall. Quickly the woman ran through, shoving it closed again before Colchis rounded the corner.
But surely he knew of the panel. More than likely he would come through at any moment. Swallowing hard, Ishizu looked for something to push against the door and noticed a heavy latch over at the side. She hastened to get it into place, gripping the wooden beam with her delicate hands and struggling to move it even an inch. It seemed to be stuck.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!"
Ishizu froze at the booming voice. She wasn't alone. Slowly she turned to lock eyes with the one she had intruded on and found herself gazing up at a striking, well-dressed man only a handful of years older than she was. Piercing golden eyes glared at her searchingly and his hands were outstretched as if to seize her.
"Explain yourself, woman," the man said now in a quieter tone, seeing the alarmed and shocked look in her eyes. "Why have you entered my private quarters?"
Ishizu became acutely aware of her drenched appearance. Her dress had been torn by both the crocodiles and Colchis. A large part was missing from the upper back and nearly half the skirt was missing on one side. She pressed herself against the wall as the man came closer, her bare shoulders touching the smoothness of the marble panel. "I . . . I was fleeing from one who was pursuing me," she admitted then.
The man raised an eyebrow at her. "Why were you being pursued?" he demanded.
Ishizu drew in her breath sharply. Did she dare trust him? What if he was working with Colchis? But still . . . there was something about him . . . something familiar. Those eyes . . . she knew those eyes. . . . Such a deep, rich golden. She knew that this man would not harm her. He wasn't the type to hurt any woman. Somehow she knew. And so she spoke.
"Because . . . because of what he believes I know," she replied, her gaze never wavering.
The stranger watched her, impressed with her strong spirit. Perhaps, he thought, this woman was someone who could help him. And he had noticed her dark skin, similar to his own and Marik's. Idly he remembered Marik saying that they had a sister. This could be her. "What is your name?" Rishid asked now.
Ishizu told him the only name she remembered. "Isis." It was actually her middle name in reality, and for reasons unknown Colchis had decided to call her that.
Rishid looked at her again. Such an interesting female. Here she was, standing in a badly torn dress, dripping water all over the floor and bleeding from several small wounds in her body, and she was standing proudly to gaze into his eyes. He imagined Marik being like that. He knew Marik was like that. Such strong spirits.
Now he noticed something else. "What is that?" He pointed to the pouch hanging around Ishizu's neck. Marik had again lapsed into complete unconsciousness and hadn't responded to anything since then. Rishid didn't know how to help him. He only knew he had to find a way. Perhaps, he hoped, there was something in the pouch that could. It was a ridiculous thing to wish for, he knew, but he couldn't help it. Marik's life was at stake! He didn't know that he'd ever been so worried about another's life as he was about Marik's.
Ishizu took the bag in her hands. "I was carrying herbs," she said softly.
"Could you help a boy who has been badly wounded?"
Ishizu caught her breath. The boy from her dreams? Would she be able to help him? Was this why she had brought the herbs she had? She knew that they helped heal wounds. "I will do my best," she said aloud, trying to see around Rishid.
He grunted in approval and turned away, leading Ishizu into the room. Ishizu gasped when she saw Marik laying pale and still in the bed. She knew him—from her dreams, yes, but also from her heart. From a lost part of her memory returned the boy's name, and Ishizu cried it out as she dropped to her knees at the bedside and gripped Marik's cold hand. She could see the boy before her so clearly in her memories—laying so very ill after being bitten by a snake. He was younger then.
Abruptly the present situation came back to her then and she swallowed hard, the tears coming as she saw wounds on the teen's shoulders and arms. When she pulled the quilt down slowly, she discovered the injuries in his chest as well. And strange thoughts came to her mind. Still he was having problems. Still he was unable to have a quiet, normal life. Perhaps he never would.
Rishid stared at her while all of this happened. She did know the boy! Was this more evidence that Marik was telling the truth? He was about to ask how she knew Marik when the panel on the other side of the room rattled.
Ishizu's head shot up and her eyes widened. Colchis! She had forgotten about closing the panel! Now he was coming in! She bent over Marik, as if hoping to protect him from the madman. He looked so defenseless! What would she do if Colchis decided to hurt Marik for some reason?
The unwanted man eased himself into the room angrily. "ISIS!" he screamed. "Where the devil have you gone!" His crazed look melted when he saw Rishid glaring at him suspiciously. He had had no idea of the room he would wind up in. Certainly he hadn't expected the royal quarters. What Rishid must think of him now! "Oh! Lord Odion! My apologies." He gave a low bow, his cape sweeping the room. As he bent to the floor, he caught a glimpse of Ishizu out of the corner of his eye and smiled to himself. He would weave a nice little tale and convince Rishid to let him take the woman back with him. That was where she belonged. He had ways of making her talk, ways of probing her mind for what he wanted. And he would make certain Ishizu didn't escape him again. Fafnir would be very displeased if that happened.
Ishizu looked at Colchis stonily, never moving from Marik's side. At the cruel man's greeting the woman froze. This man whose quarters she had entered was the king! He was so familiar, just as Marik was! She was so certain she knew him! Her gaze turned back to him, her ocean blue eyes wide. Why would she feel that she knew the king? She had never met him before. At least . . . she hadn't thought she ever had.
Rishid ignored her. "What is it you want, Colchis?" he growled. "Have you news of the Red Zealot?" He didn't trust this man at all, no matter how recommended he came. There was just a darkness that came from all around him whenever he entered a room—not to mention the way he was always so casual about relaying news of the Red Zealot's attacks. The matter was serious, not something to be addressed as blindly as the weather!
"Unfortunately, no, my lord," Colchis said smoothly. "I have been looking for Isis here. You see, she has delusions often and seems to think she can see the future. Poor girl was a victim in one of the Red Zealot's massacres and therefore she went a bit . . . well, out of her mind." He gave Isis an ugly smirk and she glared fiercely at him, never moving from where she was gently wrapping the herbal leaves over Marik's wounds.
"She appears sane to me," Rishid retorted. And he was definitely going to trust his own judgment over that of Colchis's.
"Oh, I'm certain she would, my lord," Colchis agreed, coming over closer. "She appears that way most of the time. But when she tells of her visions, it is obvious her mind is fading. Don't allow her to waste your time, Lord Odion. I will gladly take her off your hands." He reached out to grab Ishizu's arm and she slapped him violently, causing him to reel back several paces.
Rishid hid his amusement. He enjoyed seeing Colchis get beaten back by someone, especially this defiant woman. "Now see here, Isis," he growled, turning to face her.
Ishizu looked at him calmly. "Yes?" She never missed a beat in re-bandaging the wounds on Marik's chest. Colchis didn't intimidate her, and if Rishid was going to scold her for slapping the man, she didn't care. All she cared about was saving Marik's life.
Rishid shook his head, apparently deciding to forget whatever he was about to say to her. Instead he turned to Colchis in anger, using the same technique as he had on his insolent servants. "You are questioning my judgement, Colchis," he said coldly. "You know I don't tolerate that."
Colchis clenched his fist tightly. Oh, how he despised this man! If only he could be rid of him. . . . Perhaps he could rise up against both Rishid and Fafnir and then claim the talisman for himself. That wasn't a bad idea. He would just need the perfect strategy. And for that, deep thought was needed. Perhaps Ishizu could stay where she was for now. Rishid would be dead soon and then Colchis would take the woman back. Meanwhile, there were still ways for him to do what he wanted without the assistance of Ishizu's visions. "Yes, I know, my lord," the conniving man said aloud, an apologetic look coming over him. "I am sorry. It's just that . . . I've been around her longer and . . ."
Rishid grabbed him by the amulet he was wearing around his neck. "I trust my judgement. And even if she cannot predict the future, she seems harmless. I will keep her here for now." He glanced back at Ishizu as she lovingly took care of Marik's other wounds. Yes . . . she was definitely this boy's sister. But . . . she hadn't seemed to know him. Perhaps, Rishid thought, if I am an adopted brother, I was not important enough to her that she would remember me. He couldn't know that Ishizu did find him familiar, but wasn't saying so.
Colchis nodded obediently. "Of course, Lord Odion," he agreed, bowing again and heading for the door. "Your judgement is wise."
Rishid watched him go, not convinced of his loyalty. And he couldn't help but notice the way he had leered at Ishizu. That made his blood boil. He realized that he felt the same protective feeling toward Ishizu as he had with Marik.
Ishizu seemed not to have noticed the look she had been given. She straightened up, looking at Marik with soft, kind eyes. "I have done what I can," she said quietly. "All we can do now is pray." She was about to sit down wearily in a chair when Rishid stopped her.
"You need something better to wear," the man grunted. "Something that hasn't been torn and eaten away, not to mention completely soaked. I don't want to deal with two sick people."
Ishizu bristled slightly at his cold tone. "I can assure you, Lord Odion, that you will not have to 'deal' with me," she said smoothly. "I have clothes in the east wing, which I will only be too happy to retrieve. But after I do so, with your permission I wish to stay with this boy." She smiled tenderly down at Marik as he gave a soft moan. She loved the youth already. Well, no, she couldn't really say "already," since she seemed to have known and loved him before. But now she was rediscovering that love.
Rishid grunted. "I want you to stay with him, especially if you can actually help." He paused for a long time, mulling something over in his mind. At last he spoke again. "But don't call me 'Lord Odion.' I don't like that. Call me Rishid." It was a big step on his part for him to say this, as it meant he was lowering the defensive shields that he had kept raised for so long. And he was out loud accepting something Marik had told him.
Ishizu looked at him, her deep blue eyes showing how deep in thought she was. Rishid . . . Rishid. . . . She knew the name. . . . "Alright," she said aloud, finding herself smiling. "I will call you Rishid."