Page 40 of Her Cruel Redemption (The Dark Reflection #3)
Chapter Forty
I was more tempest than man when I reached Saltarre Castle. I stalked its halls full of something thundering that hadn’t been freed by my late-night wandering into enemy territory and an enemy bed. I could still smell her, taste her, still feel the shape of her in my hands, and I clenched my fists against the savage conviction that I should have dragged her back here with me. Taken her captive if I had to. Compelled her if I had to. Crossed that final line I kept wanting to tear through, because it would make this so much easier on me if I did. I thought back on that moment when she’d collapsed on the battlefield. On the several seconds after I’d picked her up that I’d been about to bring her back with me, as I’d so often imagined doing. I had to grip onto the decision I’d made moments later, to turn back, carry her through the bodies of the fallen until I found the Yoxvese girl who’d been at the negotiating table. To hand her over, sick and unconscious, in a move I was still seething against. To say it had gone against the grain was a fucking understatement. But I couldn’t risk her rage inducing her to use magic again when she woke to find herself a captive. Not when she’d already pushed her body too far.
The fact that I was walking the halls of Saltarre Castle as I brooded on this did nothing to improve my mood. I hated this place. The winding halls I’d never walked as a free man, the darkness that was all I’d known of it beneath my feet. When I opened the door to the room I’d taken for myself, Lidello’s room once, I found Lester waiting for me, sitting by a fireplace thankfully stoked high against the foggy night. He looked up from sharpening one of his collection of knives, caught sight of me standing there shirtless and dripping with rain, and hiked his eyebrows high up his head.
‘What the fuck happened to you?’
I just glowered at him, thumping the door shut behind me. ‘It’s late. I’m cold. I’m going to bed.’
‘Yeah I should bloody think you’re cold if you’re walking round this miserable place half dressed. And you’re wet. Did you go for a bloody swim?’
‘It’s raining.’
‘Fine time for a walk then, I guess.’
I pulled a towel off the dresser, dried my hair and back. ‘How’s morale?’
‘I mean, it’s not brilliant. Some mad witch throwing bolts of lightning was bound to make everyone a little edgy. We’ll all feel better when she’s out of the picture. I think that’s priority number one now.’
I paused in toweling my arms. ‘No.’
‘No what?’
‘No, we won’t make targeting Rhiandra our number one priority.’
He scrubbed at his stubble, grimacing. ‘Look, I know you have… something… for her. A predilection or what have you. But she’s wielding lighting . And throwing it at you . That’s got to change some things.’
‘Like fuck it does.’ Taking a jug of water off the same dresser, I drank straight from it, hoping it would clear away some of the fog in my head. This pulsing, rumbling fog that had rolled in when I’d seen her on the battlefield. It didn’t. ‘I want her left alone.’
Lester stood and stretched his arms high above his head. ‘Fantastic,’ he yawned. ‘I was getting tired of living anyway. Now all that’s left to see is how we’re going to die. Barbequed by your wayward bloody wife, or beaten to death by your generals and your soldiers when you announce that they’re to just look the other way while she’s trying to do the barbequing.’ He wilted a little as he waited for my reaction, probably realising I was serious. ‘Maybe we should just do what we came here for and get out as fast as we can,’ he continued, more soberly now. ‘We don’t need to hold Port Howl. We can burn the place down on our way out the door.’
‘Maybe,’ I muttered, pulling on a fresh shirt, moving over to stand by the fire.
‘You hate it here anyway.’
‘I do.’
‘And it’s cold.’
‘We’ve known colder.’
‘Yeah. It’s not Yaakandale cold. Not the mountain pass or the sledding fields.’
‘Not Garnoc’s ice arena.’
We were both silent for a moment, staring into the fire, reminded of a time long past. People long gone. The echo of bygone screams.
‘I think my orders could bear repeating. Anyone who touches Rhiandra answers to me,’ I said quietly. ‘If she’s confronted, she’s to be taken unharmed. Anyone with other ideas can expect to deal with me personally. They’ll do well to remember that I can be creative with those who don’t follow orders.’
Lester sighed. Clapped me on the shoulder. ‘How about you sleep on it? Announce it in the morning. When I’m more convinced your mind’s not on the fritz for being half frozen.’ He picked up his gear, muttering ‘taken unharmed. They’ll love that,’ under his breath as he did. When he was gone, I slumped into the chair myself. Scrubbed my hands through my damp hair. Eyed the liquor on the side table for a moment, before picking it up, popping the stopper and taking a swig straight from the bottle, appreciating the burn and the way it eased a little of the stiffness and fatigue that had ridden my body for far too long now. I didn’t usually allow myself to drink, but tonight I would make an exception.
I hadn’t meant to go to her. Seeing her like that, lightning spilling out of her, stalking towards me across a battlefield, a goddess of storms and vengeance, had unbalanced something in me that had been teetering. She‘d been letting the magic tear through her, burn her up, and watching her do it had been the sort of terror I hadn’t known I could still feel. I’d gone to the camp with the intention only to watch long enough to know she was alright. But then I’d seen her, and I’d lingered. I’d wanted to take another shot at warning her, as though she’d heed any warning from me. And then, so help me, I’d wanted to fuck her. She was always a blistering challenge personified, and nothing made me want to wrap her legs around me quite like winning the look she’d given me when I’d grabbed her hand, that softening in her dark eyes as she lost her grip on her defenses. I’d meant to leave her be, to let her go back to the camp. But I couldn’t leave knowing she was so close. Knowing she’d wanted me too and I hadn’t taken her.
But I’d be lying if I said it had been satisfying. It hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough. All it had done was provide an instant of relief from the tension of craving her, but it was the sort of tension that would keep returning. I could sneak into her tent every night for the rest of my life and I’d still wind up sitting here aching for more.
Picking up the fire poker, I stirred the coals and wondered—not for the first time—if I could be content with just having her as a prisoner. Imagined the sweet relief of giving in and compelling her into obedience. Returning to this room to find her waiting for me, safe under my protection, a slave to my every whim, always where I needed her to be, saying the things I wanted to hear. Blank eyed and pleasant, while hating me all the way to her core. I discarded the poker, disgusted with the idea and myself for entertaining it. Rose from the chair. Finally headed for the bed, to the embrace of a restless sleep.
The following morning, I ignored Lester’s disapproval and gave the orders to steer clear of Rhiandra to my commanding officers, who communicated it to the rest of the soldiers. It seemed pertinent not to rely on pure hierarchy to ensure obedience, though. I observed the soldiers as they breakfasted in the ballroom we’d transformed into a mess hall, listening and reading their collective mood. They were as pleased with the orders as could be expected, a fact exemplified as I walked between two long tables and caught part of a conversation.
‘…thinks we’re all his to sacrifice. Just like any royal tosser. Doesn’t give a fuck if we’re bleeding out there…’
Discontent didn’t bother me, but when it was expressed within earshot it became something to be dealt with. I mulled over how I’d deal with it, drawing closer to the speaker when I caught another line.
‘…don’t care either way. His orders won’t mean shit to me if I catch the bitch. I bet she can’t throw lightning if I cut off her—’
His words abruptly cut out as his companion across the table finally caught his eye. It was a bit late for that.
‘Stand,’ I ordered. The soldier did so a mite too slow, turning to face me with a sly expression that suggested the discontent was rising to dangerous levels. He was pale, muddy haired and muddy eyed, with a wet, crooked slash of a mouth.
‘Thatcher, isn’t it?’ I asked. One of the Yaakandale soldiers. He should have known better.
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ he said. The hall around us had gone silent as everyone tuned in.
‘Got a problem with my orders, Thatcher?’
He glanced across the room, seeming to take confidence from the attention on us. Drew back his shoulders. ‘Just a bit confused about what we’re meant to do with the lightning witch if we aint ‘sposed to touch her,’ he said boldly. I didn’t respond, waiting for him to continue. He grew bolder. ‘I just don’t see how you can justify it, sir.’ When I still said nothing, he got a cocky gleam to his eye. ‘Even if she is as good at sucking cock as they—’
His words died in his mouth with his breath. Because before he could so much as flinch, I’d drawn my dagger and slammed it through his stomach. He wheezed, folding forwards as the point poked out of his back, and I steadied him to keep him from falling.
‘You’re lucky. All I’m going to do to you is let you die,’ I murmured, before pushing him back and wrenching my blade from his abdomen. He slumped to the floor.
The room was completely silent as I surveyed the rest of the gathered soldiers. ‘Would anyone else like to question my orders?’ I asked as anyone whose gaze I met dropped their eyes. ‘Good,’ I said finally, before flicking my hand in a signal for Thatcher to be dealt with. ‘Enjoy your breakfast.’