Five Lands Saga Box Set 1 (Five Lands Saga Box Sets), page 60
He returned to the rock—satisfied at least that the danger was only to their sanity, not requiring use of his sword—and returned his arm around Daniella.
“And here I thought the middle of this gods-forsaken, pitch-black swamp would be the one place in the Five Lands that I wouldn’t have to hear about herbs,” Jaeme said. He turned to Daniella. “Have any tidbits about the history of this hellhole you’d like to share?”
“Well, there are those Nichtees I mentioned,” she offered.
“People who Mirilina supposedly cursed for betraying her to Maldorath,” Jaeme said, rolling his eyes. “I remember.” He paused. “I still can’t believe we merited the pursuit of Erich Dektrian. You know he was just a peasant from backwoods town? Gods, the knights back home don’t love mentioning that part, but even they have to respect the man. I mean, he’s a gods-damned legend.”
Beside him, Daniella stiffened. Her voice was bitter. “Yes,” she said. “I’m aware.”
Jaeme looked at her. He’d thought before that her annoyance had been about the timing of his outburst, but now—
“You know him?” Jaeme ventured.
“Yes.” Daniella pushed a lock of her damp hair behind her ear. “Such is my misfortune.”
Jaeme waited for more, but all he heard was the occasional happy shriek from Sayvil as she dug around in the woods for that plant.
Finally, Daniella sighed. “He and I were . . . he was my . . .”
Jaeme turned to stare at her. “Whoa,” he said. “You were courted by Erich Dektrian?”
Daniella scooted away from him. “Stop saying his name like that!”
Jaeme sat for a moment, stunned. He remembered something Daniella had said, back in Berlaith, when he’d been prodding her about whether or not she had a suitor.
“Gods,” he said. “You were in love with—”
“Don’t say it!” Daniella snapped.
“—him,” Jaeme said. “I was going to say him.”
“Yes, I was. But I’m not now, and it scares every level of hell out of me that he came so close to finding me.”
A trail of ice ran down Jaeme’s spine. “It ended badly,” he said.
“Yes,” Daniella said. And Jaeme was about to let it go—the gods knew he’d pressed her for enough.
But Daniella went on. “Yes, he courted me. Yes, I was in love with him. Yes, I thought we were going to be married and have children and live happily ever after, because I was stupid and naive, and he was charming and wonderful. And not because he was Erich Dektrian, all right? Because he was sweet and good to me. For a while.”
Jaeme put his hand on her arm and was grateful when she didn’t pull away again. “And then?”
“And then he told me that I was an assignment. That my father instructed him to seduce me, and he always excelled at his assignments. He said he’d grown to love me, that it was more than that, but I—I couldn’t ever trust him after that.”
A lump formed in Jaeme’s throat, such that he could barely breathe.
Gods.
He’d meant to tell her that the Council had sent him to seduce her. It had occurred to him that he probably wasn’t the first one sent to try—though he’d assumed he was the most successful.
But her own father had done this to her?
He’d thought that when he told her his feelings were real, that he no longer had any intention of reporting on her, that she would be angry but eventually be able to look past it. But.
“You never forgave him,” Jaeme said, and the words felt like weights on his chest. If that was the case, could he never tell her? Would he be able to keep up that façade when they reached Mortiche?
Daniella shrugged. “After that, he became obsessive. I could see the signs looking back, of course. He always wanted me all to himself. He grew jealous of men I barely spoke to, hardly knew their names. He would become enraged sometimes, and the things he would say to me . . .” She looked down at her hands. “I let myself believe it was because of how deeply he loved me, as idiotic as that sounds now. And after it was over—he followed me. He plagued me constantly, begging me to take him back. Then threatening me, and then—” Her voice broke off for a moment. “I did this to him.”
Jaeme returned his arm around her. “No,” he said. “No, if he treated you badly, that’s on him.”
Daniella shook her head, and with that denial, Jaeme discovered that he officially hated Erich Dektrian. He hated how small Daniella looked, how she shrank within herself. It all fit now, all the pain he saw in her, the self-doubt and fear that she battled constantly. He’d assumed it was because of her treatment at her father’s hand, but there was more. Her father, Adiante, the other noble women—all these people had begun making her feel like she was nothing, but it was Erich who had ultimately convinced her of it. It was this bastard who would beat down an already wounded girl, who would do this to a woman who loved him.
“Did he hurt you? Physically, I mean.” Jaeme’s voice was even, but too low to be natural.
“Not when we were together,” she said quietly. “I think he was afraid to, because of my father. But sometimes I wish he had. I know that sounds horrible, but . . . it might have made it more real somehow. I might have realized what he was sooner.”
“But later,” he said.
Daniella hesitated. “I overheard him talking to the blood mage—to Lukos, in the Chamber of Binding. I told Kenton and the others that they were talking about what I was—what I am—but there was more to it. Erich was asking Lukos to teach him blood magic, so that he could—” she shivered “—control me.”
Jaeme felt ill. General Dektrian’s circling of the Andronish army at Oresh was legendary among the knights, who prided themselves on similar feats of mounted valor against a larger foe. Dektrian’s Riders were considered by most to be the only real cavalry threat Mortiche faced. But more than that, Jaeme had admired Dektrian for rising above his background to become the people’s general, relying on his military mind and sword-arm rather than a fortunate pedigree.
Any trace of that respect was gone. Erich Dektrian would pay for what he’d done to Daniella. If Jaeme hadn’t had her to protect, he would have gone back to Ithale at that moment to see to it.
“And when he was told he couldn’t,” Daniella continued, “that I’m not a person, but a weapon, that I was too much for him to control—by magic anyway—he fell back on threats. He said that if I wouldn’t come back to him, he would . . .” She hesitated, like the words were hard to say, and Jaeme tightened his arm around her, wishing that he could take the memories away.
“He said that he would take me by force,” she said.
“Gods, Dani,” Jaeme said. “I’m sorry I ever said that bastard’s name.”
“I left before he could. I got away during the invasion of the castle and found Sayvil and then Kenton. But that’s why I didn’t want to go back. However much Kenton hated me, I couldn’t go back there. I can never—”
“He’ll never touch you,” Jaeme said, feeling that resolve in his very bones. “I swear to it. I will die before I will let him lay a hand on you again.”
Daniella turned toward him, looking up at him in surprise, and Jaeme’s hand went unconsciously to her face, caressing her cheek, drawing her closer. He looked into Daniella’s eyes, watching the way the torchlight danced in them, and saw something beyond the pain and hesitation.
Longing.
And so he kissed her. Their lips met and parted, their arms encircling each other. Kissing Daniella was like breathing; she was as necessary to him as the very air. When they broke apart, Jaeme ran a hand gently over her damp hair, brushed a smudge of mud from her cheek, and laughed.
Daniella’s eyes crinkled. “What?”
Jaeme shook his head. “I never thought I would find a woman who would be so utterly beautiful covered head-to-toe in swamp filth. It’s too much for me.”
She smiled back at him. “The torch is low. You can barely see me.”
“Well, I can definitely smell you.” He grinned as she faked indignation and jabbed his side. He grabbed her hand and held it, happy she allowed him to have it back.
“You do have a penchant for kissing me when I’m coated in filth,” Daniella said. “Should I be worried about that?”
“The truth is,” Jaeme said, “I’d been wanting to do that for a long time. Way before Tir Neren.”
She bit her lip thoughtfully before taking the bait. “How long?”
“Pretty much ever since you told me I was a disloyal, disrespectful oaf whose only dubious contribution to the knighthood was to give them reason to keep a tight rein on their wives.’”
“Jaeme, I’m sor—” she began.
“Don’t apologize!” he said with a laugh. “It was true. Well, except if we’re being literal about the wives. I’ve never broken up a marriage that I’m aware of. But I absolutely was being an insincere cad, and when you called me on it . . . well, I knew you were different from all the Adiantes of the world, all the brainless court women I’ve met.”
Daniella seemed to relax a bit, the farther they got from their discussion of Erich. And while Jaeme didn’t hate the man any less for what he’d done to her, he was glad to banish the ghost of him from their conversation.
The less Daniella had to think of him, the better.
Not too far away, Sayvil made another excited exclamation about a plant, confirming Jaeme’s suspicion that she remained close enough to hear every word they’d said. At least she seemed to be so occupied with her botanical discoveries that she wasn’t paying too much attention.
Daniella removed her hand from Jaeme’s and ran her fingers lightly along his cheek and jaw. Jaeme had been with a lot of women, but he’d never felt stunned at their touch, at the mere sensation of fingers on his skin.
“Well, I think you’ve managed to prove me wrong about you. But don’t expect that to happen too often.”
He chuckled and brought her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it softly before returning it to rest intertwined with his own.
Sayvil burst through the brush, her herb pouch stuffed full of leaves. “Well, at least something has come of this mess,” she said. “I’ve found two different kinds of plianth leaf. I can only imagine the restorative properties.” She adjusted her things in her pack. “So unless you two want more alone time, can I ask how much longer before you’re ready to move on?”
Jaeme stood, still holding tight to Daniella’s hand. “We’re ready,” he said, though reluctantly. “The farther we get from the town, the better.”
By Daniella’s grip on his fingers, he was fairly certain she agreed.
Ten
Kenton didn’t bother trying to fight the soldier’s grip as he was brought to Erich’s tent. He was going to have to deal with that bastard sooner or later.
Erich’s tent was quite large and brightly lit with several lanterns hanging from hooked poles. The shaggy fur of thick animal skins lay across the ground, providing a soft floor of sorts. Several black and gold banners whipped in the wind as Kenton entered, as well as one blue banner with a gold crest. The crest of Dektrian’s Riders. There was a table in the middle of the tent, with several rolled-up scrolls lying atop it, and a platter of meats.
At the table, seated casually in a wooden chair with that same feral smile on his face, was Erich. He didn’t stand when they entered, just gestured to a chair across the table from him. The soldiers shoved Kenton onto it, rather unnecessarily. He was glad to sit rather than being in that awkward position on the ground.
Erich waited for the soldiers to give a salute and leave before saying, “You’ll forgive me, if I don’t untie you. I’ve found myself on the wrong side of your fists too often for that.”
Kenton said nothing in return. When it came to Erich, he had nothing left to say. He knew perfectly well that he served a blood mage, and apparently didn’t care. That told Kenton everything he needed to know.
“Still not one for excessive talking, I see.” Erich said, his tone artificially light.
“Being a prisoner doesn’t exactly encourage me to boast over my fighting abilities,” Kenton said. “Why don’t we just cut to the chase? You want Daniella and the others. I won’t tell you where they are. Go ahead and torture me; see if it changes.”
Erich arched an eyebrow. “Blunt as ever. Too bad you haven’t held to your ideals as well as your idiosyncrasies.”
Kenton spoke evenly. “I could say the same about you.”
Hot anger sparked in Erich’s eyes, but only for a second before it was replaced with a kind of calm bitterness. “We fought together for Diamis. For the change he represents. We fought to bring the stability of Sevairn into Foroclae, to unite people under one banner. And now here you are, trying to tear apart everything we fought for.”
“He’s trying to raise Maldorath, Erich,” Kenton said. “Where’s the stability in that?”
Erich shook his head. “Maldorath is the god of blood. The god of the soul, not the god of violence. He had it right all along—the Five Lands need to be united. The other gods would have us carved up into pieces. If people would just stop resisting—”
“You and I became soldiers to protect people,” Kenton said. “Not to put them down when they disagree with us.”
“We became soldiers to protect them by force. Or did you forget the way people opposed us at the battle of Berlaith? How many did you personally cut down, Kenton? How many did you kill for opposing Diamis’ will?”
Kenton glared at Erich—as much as he could out of only his right eye—but said nothing. Perhaps Kenton hadn’t changed. But Erich certainly had, and not for the better.
“I’m not interested in debating with you,” Erich said. “I may work for Diamis, but today I’m looking for what’s mine. So tell me where she is.”
Kenton hid his surprise behind a stone-faced façade. Kenton had already known of Erich’s obsession with Daniella, but for Erich to focus so intently on her at the expense of the others could be tantamount to treason. Diamis would want his weapon back, certainly. But he’d been looking for the last Drim for three decades, and finding the bearers was the only way to stop them from preventing Maldorath’s return.
“We could make a deal,” Kenton said. If Erich was going to reveal his weakness, Kenton was going to do his best to exploit it. “I’ll give you Daniella, and you let the rest of us go. We’ll run into Mortiche, and you can say that we got the best of you.”
Erich’s expression gave away nothing.
“The princess of Sevairn for a tavern boy and a bunch of no accounts,” Kenton said. “I’m surprised you have to think about it. Especially given your . . . attachment.”
“Because that trade worked out so well for me last time.”
Kenton smiled. He supposed even Erich wasn’t fool enough to fall for the same ploy twice.
“I know who you are,” Erich said. “All of you. The last of the Drim, plus three of the chosen. The rumor is that the other one has taken her place on the throne of Tirostaar. If it wouldn’t be giving you too much credit, I’d think that was your doing.”
Erich opened his mouth to continue, but a soldier burst in through Erich’s tent flaps, red-faced and breathing heavily. “Sir, forgive me the intrusion, but I have urgent information about Lady Daniella.”
Erich jumped to his feet, sending the chair rocking back with the motion. “You’ve found her.”
Kenton could instantly tell by his twitchy demeanor that the soldier did not have good news. Bad news for Erich meant good things for the rest of them.
“No, sir,” He shot another look at Kenton, unsure of whether to relate this sensitive information.
But Erich was clearly too desperate to care. “Out with it, then.”
“The swamps, sir,” the soldier said. “We beat it out of one of the villagers who saw them sneak past the docks. She and two of her companions made off through the swamps.”
Kenton smothered a smile. Well done, Jaeme. He, Sayvil and Daniella had all made it into the swamps, and from there they’d be able to push through to Haidshir—no matter Nikaenor’s fears.
Erich’s eyes flashed with anger again before he covered it. “And you went after her.”
“N-no, sir,” the soldier said. “It’s dark out there. We can try in the morning, but tonight we’ll never be able to find—”
Erich stared blank-faced at the man, who glanced over at Kenton with such a look of terror that Kenton thought he might actually be looking to him for help.
Then Erich gave a sharp nod. “You are dismissed,” he said. He sat back down in his chair.
The soldier didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and fled.
Erich turned his attention back to Kenton. “You,” he said, his voice tight, “sent my Ella through the swamp.”
“I didn’t send her anywhere,” Kenton said. “I’ve been your prisoner the whole time.”
Erich picked up a dagger from beneath the scrolls and twisted the hilt around in his hands, maintaining eye contact with Kenton. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
“Do you?” At the moment, Kenton had been thinking that Erich was even more out of his mind than he’d previously thought, so he very much doubted it.
“You think she loves you. She’s made you believe it, and now you want to protect her.”
Kenton fully believed that Erich saw himself this way, as Daniella’s savior. Her protector—by force. And as much as Kenton wanted to goad him, he could see in Erich’s eyes that there would be no advantage gained by making the man believe that he felt the same.
“No,” Kenton said. “She doesn’t love me, nor I her. In fact, I don’t think she’s any more fond of me than you are right now. But the one she hates most is her father.”
