Chapter 12
"You have outdone yourself this time Ryanwin. Wherever did you find such a magnificent animal?"
Amyr stood completely still as the elegant, pale female circled him, moving ever closer as she did. Her long, patrician nose wrinkled with disgust, but Amyr had long since given up on any form of modesty where personal hygiene was concerned. His pulse still raced from the battle he had fought against this woman's champion, and now his body was sticky from the other man's blood that had sprayed on him from the killing blow. The filth of the arena clung to his sweaty body, the filth of many days and many deaths at his hands.
He glanced at Ryanwin under his lashes and saw that she watched the other woman with amused contempt as she inspected him.
"He is Calabrian," remarked his prospective buyer. "But he does not fight as I have seen other Calabrians do."
Because he had not completed his training and did not know the myriad fighting stances and attacks that imperial warriors learned. Amyr hadn't believed it necessary for him to make the effort, not when Taeron was doing such an admirable job of it. His imperial guard would have protected him. His imperial guard should have protected him, but Amyr was not going to think about Taeron's failures now. He was hoping this female would purchase him so that he would not have to endure another day with Ryanwin as his master.
"I purchased him from a Varoonyan trader some years ago. He was not my first choice among the captives they were trading, but his arrogance intrigued me. His fighting style is abysmal, but his desire to live is strong and he has become a favorite with the crowd so his matches are very profitable for me." She didn't add that other aspects failed to live up to her standards. This woman would find out on her own.
"He made surprisingly short work of Paetor," remarked the lady. When she touched the muscles of one of his arms, he felt light-headed. "I should like to purchase him."
The witch would never sell him.
"I am sorry, Eylinor, but he is not for sale."
Eylinor slid her hand over his shoulder and down the expanse of his filthy chest. "Then perhaps you care to lend his services." The witch watched with her twisted smile as the other woman slipped her hand down to the leather loincloth he wore. A sweat broke out over his forehead as she touched his flesh, and he thought he might heave what little he had been given to eat that day before she removed her hand.
Eylinor turned a puzzled gaze to Ryanwin. "Is this some sort of joke? He does not respond."
Ryanwin laughed mirthlessly. "The primitive bastard is mated and cannot perform that function with other females. Believe me, Eylinor, I have tried, but he is useless as a male."
Remembering all the females that would have disagreed on Calabria, Amyr wondered if this condition had been given to him by the gods.
"A pity," murmured the Andar noblewoman as she ran her hand over him again. "He could have sired many warriors. I would have enjoyed having a stable of Calabrian fighters."
Amyr wasn't destined to sire any warriors and he knew he owed it to the red-haired bitch that had abandoned him to shame and dishonor. He didn't know what she had done to him or how, but once he had made that vow, he was unable to perform as a male. She had apparently used the same magic that her mother had used to bewitch Duo Maxwell. His predicament had caused no small amount of ridicule and scorn from Ryanwin who hoped to mate him herself. Amyr could only cleanse the humiliation by battle in the arena, so killing had become his only form of pleasure. His life was one bloody contest after another, and each time he stepped into the arena, he told himself it would be the last, that he would end it by allowing the killing stroke of his opponent to find its mark. But some instinct from deep inside would make him prevent that killing blow, and he would come out victorious.
"You will have to search the markets for another Calabrian," Ryanwin told her companion.
Eylinor huffed in annoyance. "There are few to be had since the frontier has been closed off. The Varoonyans have not been to the markets in several years."
"A shame," agreed Ryanwin. "We shall have to assume that the Varoonyans have run afoul of a force greater than their own."
Imperial warriors, Amyr thought, but he did not tell them his suspicion.
Eylinor sighed deeply. "I was hoping to spend an enjoyable afternoon with your champion, but now I suppose I must go. My husband expects my presence when he pays that rabble from Norvana."
Ryanwin's interest was piqued. "So you had need of hunters? I did not know they were on the planet. Is Lord Mordrad with them?"
Amyr recognized the lust in her voice and it disgusted him.
"Indeed. They have returned from the hills where they have rid us of a nest of monsters." Eylinor grunted. "I invited Mordrad to spend the day with him while his capable crew eradicated the beasts, but he refused. Perhaps he has been bewitched by the beautiful summoner traveling with them."
"Bewitched? Mordrad?" Ryanwin sniffed disdainfully. "Summoner or not, he will be with me tonight. He has never refused my invitation." She signaled to her guards, then Amyr felt a jolt so powerful in the shackle around his neck that he stumbled to his knees. "Come along, champion." She handed her controlling device to the guard who zapped him again before ordering him to fall in line.
Amyr forced himself forward; his head bowed subserviently although he seethed with such rage that he was surprised his heart did not explode. Death was preferable to the life he had now, and yet he had no choice but to continue in this intolerable existence. Perhaps his deep-seeded need for revenge kept him going day after excruciating day, treated like an animal, humiliated by his master and scorned and tortured by his guards. Only his fantasies of exacting revenge on the people who caused this kept him going. Although he doubted she yet lived, Amyr devoted many hours to imagining the ways he would make Quynn suffer. First he would take from her what he had been denied these long, agonizing years, and when he grew bored with her, he would demand she remove her spell so that she could suffer by knowing that he would enjoy any female that would not deny him. And what female would deny him?
There was only one person he wanted to see suffer more. Taeron of house Maxwell. Each night he lay awake devising one gruesome torture after another to perfect the most painful death he would give the imperial guard that had put the honor of his father's house over the welfare of the prince he had given an oath to protect with his own life. There was the strong possibility that Taeron had not survived the debacle at Teralon; he was not indestructible. But Darlac, gods curse the bastard for withholding Meridon's men from joining Amyr's offensive, had remained in the Calabrian camp with his fierce warriors, so there was a chance that Taeron had survived. If so, Taeron would have returned to Calabria in disgrace after failing his prince. The thought of Lord Duo rejecting Taeron for the dishonor he brought his house gave Amyr much consoling pleasure. The bastard would have to return to his whore mother where he would be reviled by her husband, Amyr's uncle.
Now shackled to the other fighters, their ankles hobbled so that they could not take more than a shuffling step, Amyr was too weak after the energy blasts through the slave collar to offer any resistance to their commands, so he shuffled out of the wretched pens adjoining the arena with the rest of the slaves. They were herded towards the longhouses at the edge of the city where they would be fed and allowed to rest until the evening's fights. This necessitated a trek through the marketplace and despite himself, Amyr peered around at the people of the planet going about their business, glancing only briefly with at the filthy slaves before turning away in disgust.
Shadows overhead drew his attention, and he looked up with his comrades in chains to see dragon-like creatures soar downwards before landing gracefully at the edge of the square. Amyr had seen the raptors when he first arrived on the planet several days ago and knew they were a form of transportation much like the horses on Calabria. He considered how much more enjoyable if not faster the trip from Edgeland Fortress to the imperial city would be if Calabria had some of those beasts.
"Hunters." The word seemed to have found its way into the conversations of many of the people in the plaza as they turned to watch their arrival.
This must be the infamous group from Norvana that earned its reputation by going to planets when called to remove creatures Amyr could not even conjure in his nightmares. He had seen some of those creatures, pitted against each other in arenas, creatures that could put a canyon beast to shame. Razor sharp claws and teeth were usually augmented with venom that could paralyze or kill. The hunters from Norvana were unusually skilled at killing the beasts when they threatened the people of the worlds that had enough credits to employ them.
The group of hunters dismounted and Amyr owed his guards' curiosity for his own opportunity to observe them. From the distance, he could see four men, two women and a child that was clinging to one of the women. The leader was not hard to discern by his air of command. Lord Mordrad was tall and lean, silver streaking his long dark hair. He was talking to one of the women, his arm around her waist. Two of the men were helping another man who appeared injured, and the other woman smoothed the hair of the dark-haired child, no doubt Mordrad's son. Amyr soon lost interest. A few years ago he might have dreamed of escaping to be part of such a group, but now he knew he was destined to live out his pathetic life shackled and treated like an animal that did not even warrant more than a disinterested glance from the group of hunters.
But as the guards shouted at them to move, their own curiosity appeased, Amyr caught a scent on the wind, a scent that made his nostrils flare and the blood rush through his veins to parts of him that had been dormant since the night he had spoken vows to the female of Lord Duo's house. Startled by his reaction, Amyr swung his head about frantically, searching for the source of the scent that had made the need he had managed with great difficulty to subdue to scorch his body with unbearable heat.
Standing at the square fountain stood a woman so perfect in face and form that he had to blink to be sure she was real. Her long, curvy body moved with regal grace as she leaned down to dip a bejeweled cup into the water from the ornate public fountain. Long, thick hair the fiery color of a Calabrian sunset fell past her shoulders in glossy waves, clinging to the sensual curve of her hips. She wore a fabric that rested against her like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination as she moved. His body reacted painfully as he watched her offer the water to the boy, a beautiful dark-haired child who smiled at her as he drank.
Suddenly she looked up, her brows wrinkled in a frown, and as she turned her head, Amyr lost the ability to breathe.
Even in the distance separating them, their eyes met and he sucked in a gulping breath to recognize her gaze. Amyr would never forget the dark purple blue of twilight on Ulfynaeus. When the cup dropped from her hands, he knew she had seen him, that she recognized him, and he now stumbled, earning him a crack from the whip. Amyr did not care. He lurched forward, his strength bringing the dozen men with him as he tried to reach her. The slave collar zapped him and weakened him, but he would not be denied. Nothing would keep him from that female!
Any other woman would have shrank back in fear, for Amyr knew he was no different than the beasts to which he was now chained. It didn't surprise him that she held her ground although she was clearly startled to see him. She had nothing to fear from him thanks to her witchery, and hurting her was far from his thoughts. He had no thoughts because he had become a mindless, rutting beast seeking his mate.
"Quynn!" His voice was hoarse after so much time of disuse. Amyr did not remember the last time he had spoken.
Lord Mordrad came to her side to draw her protectively to him as the woman who had been with him stepped in front of Quynn. She raised her hand, mumbled a word or two that he did not understand and suddenly Amyr found that he had lost the ability to move. By the gods, he wished he had lost the ability to feel as well!
"Are you all right, Quynn?" he heard Mordrad ask.
Amyr was zapped by the collar again, and although he could not move, he felt the sharp pain like shards of glass stab into his neck. The guards were shouting at him, but he felt as if he had turned to stone.
"What is going on here?" He recognized her shrill voice before he saw Ryanwin pass by him, sparing him only a glance.
She marched to Lord Mordrad. "Mordrad!" Ryanwin outstretched her hands and the hunter took them to kiss solicitously.
"My dear Ryanwin! I was unaware that you were here. It is a pleasure to see you."
The two women moved back, obviously used to his flirtations. The older woman had put herself in front of Quynn as if to protect her although the magic she had used on Amyr would do that well enough. Amyr could not even summon his weak Guerani power to fight it, certainly not when his body ached for his female. Quynn, while obviously startled by Amyr's appearance, had straightened her spine in that stubborn pose that she probably thought was intimidating. What it really did was give him a better view of her female curves from head to foot and it fueled the inferno blazing in his body. She was so stunning that the grotesque need for her threatened to undo Amyr and drive him mad.
He could not take his eyes off Quynn, and he noticed that she glanced frequently at him, but she made no move to approach him. They had made an oath, and yet she stood only steps away from him saying nothing when she had the power to have him released. He was her husband! Gods curse the treacherous bitch! She had the ability to save him, and yet she stood by clutching the child to her, trying to hide him from Amyr. The sight of the boy filled him with more cold rage than he had ever felt in his life. His mate had given herself to another and borne a child when she should only bear his! If he were ever freed, he would kill them both with his bare hands.
"I heard about your champion already." Mordrad was saying, and Amyr saw that he glanced between Quynn and Amyr, before looking back to Ryanwin. "The presence of my summoner seems to have agitated him."
Summoner? Quynn? Amyr would have snarled with disgust if he could, but he could only stand still as a statue. He knew she was a sorceress! What else could explain her treacherous hold on him?
Ryanwin now looked at Amyr now, her disdain obvious until she noted the unmistakable effect that Quynn had on his body. "Indeed," she commented, now distracted. "I have never seen him so … agitated."
By the gods, he recognized that predatory look in her eyes and he was powerless to prevent her from doing whatever she wished.
The woman standing with Quynn stepped fully in front of her. "I regret the use of magic on him," she told Ryanwin. Amyr had never seen a sorceress although since coming to this lawless system beyond the frontier, he had heard of their existence. The magic that was reviled on Calabria was embraced on these worlds and those that could control it were in great demand. "The paralysis will eventually wear off."
Ryanwin moved away from Mordrad and came to Amyr where she ran her hands over his filthy flesh. "Not too soon, I hope," she murmured against his ear. "I have plans for him."
"His strength necessitated a strong spell," the sorceress told her. "In a few hours it will wear off."
"He should be in condition to fight in the arena this night," said Mordrad. With a chuckle he added, "If you do not wear him out, Ryanwin. I hope to see the contest before I leave. My men are returning a rather nasty grendel that we managed to capture for Lord Delanar's amusement in the arena."
She glanced briefly at Mordrad, but she was more distracted by Amyr's state of arousal, one over which he had no control at the moment. "Yes, yes, I shall expect you to join me this evening. Until tonight, Mordrad."
The hunter was close enough that Amyr could meet his serpentine eyes, and he held his gaze briefly before he bowed and stepped back. Ryanwin ordered the guards to bring Amyr to her rooms, then after a curious glance at Mordrad's women, particularly Quynn, she spun to walk away.
Amyr was able to give Quynn one last venomous glare, trying to tell her with his eyes that he would make her suffer should he ever escape his torment. And escape he would. He now had a purpose. The degradation he was about to suffer as Ryanwin used his stiff and frozen body against his will would be bearable because he would use all his energies to find a way to escape.
"Mama, are you all right?"
Quynn was trembling as she watched guards drag away a man she thought she would never see again in this life. The tugging at her hand drew her gaze away and she looked down at the boy speaking. "I am fine, Yori."
"Your mother was just a little startled." Carrinda took Yori's hand. "Why don't you come with me?"
Quynn was grateful when Mordrad slipped a steadying arm around her waist. She didn't actually care what people thought of their relationship as she leaned against him. He was a womanizer who spread himself thin, but no woman was foolish enough to take him seriously. Even Carrinda considered him little more than a friend although she had been his lover for many years. Mordrad had not, however, attempted to seduce Quynn. He seemed to have a sense to tell him when females were attracted to him, and Quynn felt nothing for him except friendship and gratitude.
They walked in silence for a few moments before he finally spoke. "He is Yori's father."
Quynn gasped and looked up at him. "He cannot be Yori's father! We never...never..."
"Mated?" He raised a brow. "But I sensed a connection between the two of you, a connection that is deep. You and he share a bond."
"Yori is not that bond," she insisted. "Yori is not even my child."
"You bore him, and I had begun to believe your fantastical story of the Zayronian female implanting the child in you. They are known to steal the strands of life of unwilling beings, but now that I have seen the boy's sire, I do not believe your story."
Quynn stiffened and drew away from him, anger giving her composure again. "I am not lying when I tell you that he did not sire Yori."
They reached the edge of the village where they had made their encampment with several tents. She could hear Yori talking about their week in the hills rooting out the monster infestation. Carrinda was keeping him distracted although Quynn knew he sensed her distress.
Mordrad took her into his own tent, which drew curious glances from his men. Once inside, he told her to sit although she ignored him to pace as he poured her a glass of wine Carrinda had brewed. Quynn took the goblet of fortifying strong liquid, enjoying the healing warmth that flowed through her as she drank it. She was tired from the day's fighting, and this rejuvenating potion cleared her head and calmed her nerves.
"Now you will tell me who that slave is," stated Mordrad.
Quynn set aside the goblet, and folding her arms over her chest, she raised her chin and stated defiantly. Mordrad would find out one way or another, so she said, "My husband."
His dark brows shot up. "Your mate? But you just told me..."
"We exchanged vows," she told him. "No more. During the feast, he chose to sneak into the dark gardens to seek pleasure with a serving girl." She paused when she saw Mordrad smile and she guessed that he was probably thinking Amyr quite clever. "You could not understand."
"I do not." In his culture his wife would bear his children, but he was free to dally with other females.
She put her hands on her hips. "He belonged to me! No other woman had a right to touch him." Mordrad would not understand, but she hoped he would acknowledge the rights she had on her world.
Mordrad chuckled. "Am I to assume this was a sore spot in your relationship with him in the first place?"
One that she had been unwilling to admit until it was too late. Quynn sighed. "He made a vow to me. I trusted him when everyone warned me against his inconstancy! I gave him my heart, and all along he was using me to gain the approval of his people. He wasn't the man I believed him to be."
"His people?" Mordrad raised his brow.
"He is..." Quynn frowned, realizing that she did not know how Amyr had come to his present circumstances. "He was the crown prince of Calabria."
As he silently considered her response, Mordrad stroke his chin and then he said, "Calabria is the empire causing a stir on the frontier. It grows in strength and its warriors are highly valued on the markets. I doubt Ryanwin knows of his lineage or she would have forced the emperor to pay dearly for his return."
Quynn began to pace again. "I...I cannot understand how he could be here and in such circumstances. Why would he not invoke the name of his father?" How had he become separated from her diligent brother? The only conclusion she could draw was that something terrible had happened to Taeron. She ached inside to think that her brother had paid the ultimate price for opening her eyes to the bastard Amyr really was.
Quashing her sorrow over her brother's possible fate, she looked at Mordrad. "I wish to speak to him." That was the only way she could find out about her brother. There was no other reason for her to spend any time in that filthy animal's company, especially knowing exactly what he was doing now with his master.
The last thought annoyed Quynn although she was beyond feeling anything more than irritation. She had made a life here, and she had no intention of returning to what she had left behind. She would return to dishonor, and she would bring with her shame in the form of a child calling her mother that she could not explain. She had carried Yori inside her for nine months, at first denying his existence, then reviling him, before finally growing to love the being that slept beneath her heart night after night. When the birth was difficult, she thought she would be unable to bear losing him, but Carrinda was greatly skilled in all manner of healing, and she delivered the baby. Yori's first cries made Quynn forget any pain or possible threat to her own life. No, Quynn could never return to bring such shame upon her father's house, not when she was not ashamed to hear Yori call her "mama."
"Could you arrange for me to see him?
Mordrad ran a hand through his hair. "You ask much of me, Quynn. Do you know what I'll have to do to get Ryanwin to agree?"
Quynn made a sound of disgust. "Probably what you were planning to do with that whore anyway."
He chuckled. "Well, she can be amusing. I have not seen her in quite some time so I imagine that she has learned a few new tricks." He came to her and took her hands. "You should get some rest. I will for you tonight if she agrees."
"If the grendel doesn't kill him," she murmured, thinking of the gigantic, lizard-like monster they had captured. The creature had paralyzed and injured one of the men, was at least five times the size of a man, breathed white-hot, poisoned fire and was deceptively agile. Although the Amyr she saw in the plaza bore little resemblance to the pampered crown prince to whom she had promised herself, she had difficulty imagining that he could defeat such a beast.
She returned to her own tent to find Yori already asleep, Carrinda sitting beside the decadent pile of pillows that served as their bed, stroking his dark hair. Sensing Quynn's need to be alone, Carrinda did not question her, but merely placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before exiting the tent.
Quynn lay down next to Yori who snuggled against her, throwing his small arm around her as if trying to protect her. Looking down at him, Quynn tried to see Amyr in him, but she knew the truth, that Amyr had never had the opportunity, despite his many attempts, to know her in that way. Taeron had prevented them from being alone together. In fact, that one day in the corridor was the only time she had spent more than a moment alone with him but for those tumultuous first days of their acquaintance on Ulfynaeus. Once their mutual attraction had been established, Taeron was overzealous in his self-appointed task of protecting the honor of his father's house. He was well aware of what Amyr was capable of and he must have sensed that she was not unwilling.
She could see how one could mistake Yori as Amyr's child. He was so young that his features were not well formed, but his coloring was similar to that of the Calabrian prince. Then again, it was also similar to Lord Mordrad which gave the fatherless child some protection in this harsh galaxy because Mordrad was respected in all corners. She could not return to Calabria and expose Yori to the life Taeron had suffered as a fatherless child. Reaching out to clasp his small hand, Quynn brought it to her chest to hold against her heart. She would never allow anyone to hurt her child.
The bracelet on her wrist began to emanate warmth, probably in response to the agitation her thoughts caused her, and she soon drifted into a calm sleep. She stepped instantly into a pleaceful dream that took place on a planet bathed in sunshine. She was standing in a meadow of fragrant flowers, and a soft breeze was augmented with humming that made her body vibrate. She raised her head to look in the direction of the humming and she saw Yori sitting on the massive, scaled head of a gigantic dragon. The dragon's chin was resting on the ground, humming as it wagged its tail like a dog as Yori scratched behind its ear.
"Welcome, mama."
Her dreams were frequently like this. The dragon no longer frightened her, not even when his droopy lid opened over an eyeball that was bigger than Yori himself. The dragon sighed, his hot breath scorching the grass before him but avoiding Quynn as it flowed around her, enveloping her in pleasant warmth.
"Jeshed is tired," Yori said.
"The fight was difficult today." Quynn had summoned her dragon twice when the pack of beasts had been joined by others. Usually the creatures they fought were terrified of Jeshed, but the grendels had become more ferocious.
Now she went to the gigantic dragon and waited until he laid his chin on the ground before sliding her hands over his warm, scaly face, then leaning in to lay her body on him.
"I thank you, as always," she murmured as she stroked him.
Jeshed made a keening noise and Quynn sensed his devotion. She did not know why or how he was attached to her, but she knew it had something to do with Yori. Jeshed would come into battle without a summons if Yori were in danger or even upset. Fortunately, Yori was an easy going child and rarely became emotional, the few times being when Quynn was frightened in the hunting battles.
Sighing contentedly, Jeshed closed his eyes to slumber. Yori scrambled over his forehead and slid down the front of his face, over his snout to land on his feet in front of Quynn. He smiled up at her and Quynn's heart filled with joy to meet his brown gaze.
"You have to go back, mama."
Before she could question him, she awakened and realized that someone was touching her shoulder.
"Quynn!" The urgently whispered word had the power to pull her completely from her dream. Carrinda had laid her hand on her shoulder. Quynn realized that it had become dark but for the light of a very bright moon. "Mordrad has returned for you."
At first she didn't know what Carrinda was talking about, but then she remembered his agreement to find a way for her to see Amyr. Although she was groggy, she disentangled herself from Yori who continued to sleep and went to the tent opening with the other woman. Carrinda was holding her box of healing herbs and ointments, but she thrust it into her hands.
Quynn's look of surprise prompted Carrinda to say, "Ryanwin's champion is badly injured."
"You should go," Quynn said, holding out the ornate box. Her healing abilities were limited and she was afraid that Amyr could die.
Carrinda shook her head. "You must go. Mordrad has not betrayed your tie to the champion or his identity, but Ryanwin will only allow you to care for her champion."
Although Quynn had healing abilities, she was not nearly as adept as her friend. The magic she had been taught was tied to fire, so she could only use fire to heal. Since his master would not allow Carrinda to heal him, if she did not agree to attempt to heal Amyr, she would be condemning him to an agonizing death. So she pushed back her reluctance and followed Carrinda to where Mordrad was waiting.
He slipped an arm around her waist, and as they left the camp and headed to the slave pens at the edge of the city, he tossed back his head in the possessive posture that warned any of the males lurking in the shadows that approaching would be ill-advised. In another time or place, Quynn might have bristled at such dominant behavior, but in this system, she was grateful to have a strong protector. Even so, she was a little annoyed given that she could cause some serious burns with her magic. Some men glanced in their direction, but none approached, either intimidated by Mordrad or the fire in Quynn's eyes. They cowered and skulked away into the night as he escorted her through the dark streets.
"Carrinda tells me that Amyr is injured," Quynn said as the long buildings that housed the slaves came into view.
"Poison and paralysis," Mordrad told her. "Without our help, he will surely die."
She looked up at his face although she could not see well in the darkness. "Carrinda should be..."
"Ryanwin insisted. She suspects a relationship between you." He raised a brow, but she did not respond to him. "She claims that until you appeared, her prize fighter could not be brought to stud."
Quynn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. From what she knew about Prince Amyr, he had no difficulty whatsoever being brought to stud despite the interdiction against such relations between unbonded males and females on Calabria.
"I have nothing to do with his physical urges."
"She disagrees. Whatever the reason, you will be able to speak to him, to learn what you can of his circumstances."
As she followed Mordrad, she planned the questions she would ask him. The years had gone by so quickly, and during that time she had never feared for her family because of their high position in the Calabrian empire. But if the crown prince was enslaved, she could only conclude that there had been some catastrophe. Her heart ached as she thought of what might have happened to her parents and the young siblings she barely knew. By the time they reached the barracks where the slaves were being held, Quynn had nearly worked herself into a frenzy of worry. The bracelet had grown warm and she hoped Jeshed did not feel threatened by her anxiety.
The detestable female that she had seen herding the men and groping Amyr met them just inside the ramshackle building that smelled even worse than the pen in which Quynn had been held several years earlier. Based on what she had seen the previous day, the woman treated her fighters like animals, so she was not surprised. At first she had not recognized Amyr under the filth, and the changes to his appearance had made her wonder if she was mistaken. But the rasp of his voice as he shouted her name cleared any doubt.
"Good of you to return, Mordrad. I need my fighter healed as soon as possible. I have had several offers for his services this day, and if she heals him and he reacts as he did earlier today…" her sly smile sickened Quynn, "then I shall to earn a tidy sum. He cannot breed, but the ride was most entertaining."
The look the woman was giving her disgusted Quynn who was glad that she had replaced the gown Mordrad insisted she wear when playing the role of his summoner with a plain, long-sleeved tunic and pants. She shifted the basket containing the tonics and potions that Carrinda had given her to augment the weak healing spell she would use.
Ryannwin waited a moment for her to speak, and seeing that Quynn wasn't going to react, she nodded to one of her men and then slipped her arm around Mordrad's. "My dear, why don't we let your healer play with her mate while you and I find our own entertainment."
Rolling her eyes, Quynn turned on her heel to leave Mordrad behind with the repulsive woman. She followed the guard down a long, dank passage that reeked so badly she check the impulse to cover her nose. She tried to ignore the men and creatures who had been enslaved that were used to entertain the wealthy people of this planet, but she could not help feeling pity. She had spent many months in the same deplorable conditions, filth and despair constant companions. Quynn wondered how she had the strength to escape, especially when it took many months for her to recover on Norvana.
The guard stopped before a cell in which she saw a man lying in a bed of filthy dried grass. Although he wasn't moving, there were metal bracelets on his wrists and ankles connected to chains attached to a thick metal ring in the wall. The guard opened the door to the cell and grunted to her with a nod to enter.
Taking a deep breath, Quynn stepped in only after demanding a bucket of water so that she could clean his wounds which she could see were festering even from several yards away. Crossing the cell, she saw from the sparse light from the narrow slit that served as a window that he was lying on his back, his eyes wide open as he stared up.
She dropped to her knees beside him. "I don't know if you can hear me, Amyr, but I am going to try to heal you."
He did not make any sign that he had heard her. The guard returned with the water, so she tore some fabric from the bottom of her tunic and soaked it in the water before she set about cleaning the deep gashes the beast had left in his skin. She hesitated at first, having never touched more than the flesh of his hand although their lips had touched on more than one occasion. Despite the changes that had taken place on Calabria, it was still forbidden to touch the crown prince without express permission. A glance at his impassive face told her that he would not be able to give that permission, and based on the look on his face that afternoon when he saw her in the marketplace, he would not give it anyway.
Sighing, she gently skimmed her fingers along the hard flesh of his thigh where the grendel had sunk its long, poison coated fangs into him. How he managed to defeat the beast after such a wound was a mystery.
"You are lucky to be alive," she commented as she inspected the wound, pressing on it to push copious amounts of pus from it. The sight might have nauseated her in another lifetime, but since her stupid flight from Calabria, she had seen too much to be affected now.
Wiping away the noxious mass, she applied a salve and then placing her hand on the wound, she began to murmur. The fire from her spell would close the wound and burn any poison remaining in his body.
Of course he knew she was there even though he could not see her or hear her. His body knew. If he had any feeling for her, any pride left, he would be ashamed to realize that she was seeing him at his absolute worst. Amyr would soon be dead. The fight with the grendel had gone poorly because he could not concentrate when he knew she was on the same planet. She had bewitched him with her sorcery and he could not control his reaction to her. How long had she had this power over him? Had she bespelled him the first time they had met? Was that why he thought of her when he was with other women after she had returned to her system? When she saw him with another woman that night, she had hexed him so he could not be with another.
The wound on his thigh began to tingle and then burn, and while he might have groaned at the pain, at least he felt something. Now he could hear buzzing, a humming that thrummed through his body until heat suddenly whooshed through him and he could hear her murmuring a spell.
Bitch! She was a sorceress! Just as he had suspected!
"Did you say something?" Her face loomed above him, and his vision returned so that he could see that hated visage, more beautiful than he remembered with features that had refined during their separation, lips that seemed fuller, lips he wanted against his own. Remembering how she had looked when he became aware of her that afternoon had the power to make him shudder with need so powerful that he felt faint. Ryanwin had used him mercilessly, selfishly gratifying herself while he could feel nothing but pain from her rough handling. There had been no relief for him, and despite her enjoyment, Ryanwin scorned him as a useless male.
Unable to look anywhere but at her, he remembered how she had looked when he saw her in the sunshine, her thick lustrous flaming hair framing her face and falling over her shoulders in glorious waves down her back. Now it was confined in a braid that reminded him of her father and her cursed bastard brother, may he rot in the depths of hell.
"Can you speak?" she asked.
Amyr thought he might be able to speak, especially as feeling returned to his limbs, but he did no more than blink at her. He did not trust himself to say something he would regret, something that might make her use her powers against him. She would be surprised to discover he had his own powers, although his newly discovered Guerani powers had grown weaker as he remained away from Calabria far from the sacred hills. He had her and her bastard brother to blame for keeping him from developing to his full potential, and knowing that she was still alive gave him a reason to survive now, to punish her for what she had done.
"Why are you here? What has become of Calabria that has caused you to be imprisoned here like this?" Her voice caught. "What of my family?"
He had no answers for her even if he wanted to speak to her. During the battle on Teralon, he had been attacked from behind and knocked unconscious. In retrospect, he was surprised he had not been killed, that the least of his concerns was his lost sword. How Taeron would have loved witnessing his humiliation! He awoke to find that he was on a transport heading away from Teralon, held in a cage with other Calabrians taken prisoner during his foolish offensive. That his men did not identify him as the crown prince which might have allowed him to be ransomed did not surprise him. They had not fought for him as they had for Taeron and would do nothing then to prevent his fate. So Amyr had chosen to prove to them that he could survive on his own merits, and he stubbornly kept his identity to himself.
Had Taeron suffered a similar fate given the ease with which the Varoonyans had repulsed the attack and overran the Calabrian camp? Was he a slave in some gods forsaken world? The thought comforted him. After their failure, a failure that he was sure would be blamed on Taeron, Amyr guessed that his father had sent Lord Duo with the full might of Calabria to wreak vengeance upon Varoonya. That was why Calabrian slaves were now scarce on frontier markets. He would not tell Quynn what he believed, even if he could speak. He wanted her to fear the worst.
"I will purchase you from Ryanwin," she announced.
Amyr wanted to laugh at her naivete, but he remained silent. She would find out soon enough the futility of dealing with his master.
"Mordrad will help me. He is a very rich man."
And why would he purchase a creature like me? wondered Amyr. Ryanwin had spoken of the hunter's penchant for seducing women. Had he grown bored with Quynn or would he reward her for the service she had rendered on her back?
She slipped her hand beneath his head and raised it. Amry could have done it himself, but he was yet unwilling to give away his condition. Unfortunately, her touch made his body rigid with need and at the moment, even the useless efforts with Ryanwin was preferable to the madness of desire he felt. Amyr had never, not even in his careless youth, felt this raw need for a female. Quynn surely knew what the hex had done to him, and yet she pretended to be oblivious as she put a flask to his lips and poured some liquid into his mouth. He had to swallow to keep from choking and when some of the liquid spilled from the corners of his mouth, she dabbed it away with the hem of her shapeless garment.
When he had finished swallowing, she gently lay his head back. "I will speak to Mordrad immediately. He will be able to make a deal with Ryannwin tonight." Her laughter sent a shiver through his body. "I don't think any woman can resist him when he is determined."
Is that what happened to you? he wanted to ask aloud. Did he have to make any effort at all to make you lie with him? Did you feel any shame bearing his child when you belong to me?
She moved out of his line of sight and he forced himself not to watch her move across the cell. After a short conversation with the guard that answered her call, she returned to where he was lying and as she waited, she used cloth torn from her tunic to wash his flesh. Amyr could not remember the last time he was clean and had ceased dreaming long ago of the sumptuous bathing chambers in his apartments at the imperial palace, at the palace on Ulfynaeus, the palace on Dagmaeus, the Edgeland fortress and the beautiful chamber planned for Guerani Palace in the sacred hills. He had been pampered and spoiled, and he had taken advantage of his status. In the past beautiful women would enter his warm perfumed baths to entertain the crown prince, but now those memories nauseated him as he was overwhelmed by Quynn's comforting touch.
The rattling of the lock made her stop her ministrations and when she moved away he was dismayed as the earthy scent of his mate was overpowered by the stench of Ryanwin.
"I see you have healed my champion." She had come closer and his flesh crawled. "I don't suppose you know that useful little spell your sorceress used on him? He was very entertaining when he couldn't move, but now I see that his flesh has shriveled."
"I do not know such spells," Quynn said and she suddenly gave a soft cry that made Amyr jerk his head in instinct to see that Ryanwin had seized her with her clawed grip.
As she pulled Quynn close, his body tensed and he was filled with an consuming urge to rip the alien woman apart, limb by limb, but he was yet unable to move. If he could, he doubted his mind could have held his body in check. What had the bitch done to him to make him need to protect her?
"Teach me the spell that you use to bring him to stud! I have a use for his manhood, not his sword arm."
"Let her go." The low voice was almost a growl and Amyr was able to see the bounty hunter standing just inside the cell, his sword dripping with the dark blue blood of the creature that had been standing guard.
Ryanwin released Quynn and then smoothed her hands over her gown while tossing back the long ropes into which her hair had been twisted. Quynn moved to stand by her lover and Amyr heard a noise that sounded like a menacing growl. It had come from him.
"I see that your champion is recovering," said the man, pointing his sword in Amyr's direction.
"Then I shall have to throw his corpse to the swine another day." Ryanwin shoved at Amyr with her foot which he longed to snap off at the ankle. "Should I let you show her how grateful you are, you useless beast? Does she excite you?"
Quynn stepped away from her protector. "If he is useless, I will purchase him from you."
The thought of her buying him like the slave he was both appalled and excited Amyr. He would despise being beholden to her and yet his body reacted predictably. Ryanwin noticed the change and she sneered at him, knowing he saw her and understood. With her he had no pride, having it stripped away each time she tried to arouse him so that she could breed him. The look in her glittering eyes told Amyr even before she spoke the words that Quynn was not going to buy a slave today.
"I have no intention of parting with my champion."
"Name your price," said the hunter. "You know I can afford anything you ask."
She laughed and ran her hand over his body, her gaze settling on Quynn who could not hide her disgust and dismay. Did she look concerned for him? Why would she care what happened to him? She didn't care when she ran away, taking his dignity and honor with her. The bitch had ground them both into the ground.
Ryanwin's touch was like ice water in his veins, easing the discomfort he felt from Quynn's nearness. "I will not sell. His only release from my service will be his death and then you may have his rotting, stinking corpse." She patted Amyr's cheek, letting her nails score his flesh enough to draw blood and he heard Quynn's breath catch in an outraged gasp.
Her protector made a sound of disgust. "Then I shall find a champion and return for his rotting, stinking corpse." The hand he put on the small of Quynn's back to escort her from the cell made that dreadful noise rise in his throat again.
Quynn turned to look at him one last time before she left with the other man.
When the outer door had closed on them, Ryanwin turned and before his eyes she grew to twice his size, her body taking its true shape. The creature seized him with clawed hands before he could react, and she jerked him up to slam against the slime-covered stone wall of his prison. She was strong enough to hold him up with one hand around his throat, and as she brought her face close to his, he felt dizzy with revulsion. She slid her tongue up his neck, then jerked his head down and he felt her sinking her fangs into the back of his neck around his spine.
The pain was excruciating, but she drank the fluid from him until she had her fill and she let him fall when she finished, licking her lips with a satisfied smile. She had never taken so much before, so he knew as he lay unable to move, that he would not be entering the arena that night. He would rather face whatever beast she sent against him to devour him, but now he was far too weak to do anything but draw breath.
"I will never let your mate have you," she told him. "I will burn your body to cinders before I let her touch you again, alive or dead."
Amyr didn't care. He would rather be burned to cinders than be touched by the sorceress that had betrayed him.