Bane of the Wild Hunt (Heart of the Tithriall #2)

24. SHE WANTED A MASTER

Chapter twenty-four

SHE WANTED A MASTER

Rian

“ S weet Elements, Rian,” breathed Carrick.

We stood over Nuala who lay so still and silent on my bed that I might not have thought she lived. And neither of us seemed to know what to do with the poor creature.

“She must be cleaned,” I decided. Not just because of the smell, but because I was sure that she would also want to purge the remnants of her captivity.

Find me a bathtub and some small women’s clothing. Preferably something conservative, I thought to Darragh.

To his credit, the demidragon did not even question my strange request and sent me his agreement right away.

“I’ll warm some water for her to have a bath. Do you have any Ichor of Airmid? I can make tea and a paste to help with infection. And a tincture of Dian’s Breath will alleviate her pain and swelling,” Carrick suggested.

“She is human. Will our medicine be safe to give her?” I asked him apprehensively.

“We will give her a small dose to start, just to be safe, but witches use many of our herbs in their magic.”

“Then perhaps you could bring some of the Bairnwort as well in case she desires that,” I added, referring to the remedy that prevented unwanted pregnancy. I wasn’t sure whether Nuala was even able to ovulate while in such a malnutritioned state, but I also knew that humans were supposedly very fertile creatures. “You will find all of my herbs in the trunk next to my saddle rack,” I added.

Carrick’s brows merely wrinkled at me, and he did not leave right away.

“Is the Bairnwort fresh? What possible need could you and Aodhan have for Bairnwort?” he asked, and my eyes widened at him in disbelief at his naive question.

It was simple. I was a very powerful and rather virile male who did not want children running amok with my power in their veins. So contraceptives were a must when I fucked females. Which I liked to do quite frequently. But I was not about to explain to my tenderhearted and stringently monogamous uncle that it was common for me and Aodhan to invite lots of other people into our bed. Carrick just would not understand.

“You should not ask questions when you already know you will not like the answers, Uncle,” I chastised him.

“Indeed,” he muttered and then turned quickly away as if he already had an inkling of my meaning.

“Lots of warm water, Carrick,” I stressed before he could leave. “We will change it a few times,” I explained, and he nodded mutely before departing the chamber.

I looked back down at the frail little witch and slowly sank down on the edge of the mattress. I was uncertain if I should be so close to her while she was unconscious and undoubtedly feeling vulnerable, but I could not seem to pull my gaze away. There was something so compelling about her even whilst she was inert and frail. A power long dormant that was beginning to hum under her skin now that it was free again.

“I can feel you watching me,” she told me hoarsely after many long moments, startling me near to death.

“You are awake,” I said once I had caught my breath.

“I have been the whole time,” she admitted, still not bothering to turn her face away from the wall of the tent.

“Then you know I want to bathe you. Is that alright? You are very weak, and I will need to help you, but there is no need to feel shame or fear. You are safe,” I swore, even though I knew the promise would mean nothing.

She finally turned her head up toward the tent ceiling but neither of her swollen eyes opened.

“I have no shame left. It is you who will be ashamed if you try to help me,” she warned me.

A heavy sorrow filled my heart at her desolate words, but I was sure to repress it before it could emerge into my face or affect my voice.

“I will do my utmost to care for you respectfully.”

Nuala finally turned her head in my direction. Only her amber eye opened fully enough to meet my gaze, and it was impossible to tell what she was thinking.

“I will not hold you to it.”

I was not sure how to respond, but thankfully I did not have to. Darragh informed me through our bond that he had already arrived with everything that I’d asked him to retrieve for me.

“I will be right through those curtains, and I will return momentarily with a bathtub,” I advised her before I rose. She did not respond, merely turned her face away again. “Watch over her,” I told éadrom, who still had not moved from his place at the foot of my bed. The vargr’s green eyes were on me, but there was not so much as a whisper of him in my mind anywhere.

I looked back at the broken female lying on the bed and stepped back as I realized that I was the last person who should be trying to help her. I never managed to help my lover overcome the trauma of his past, and now my vargr was suffering, and I had no idea how to help him either.

I quickly repressed a flare of anguish that threatened to overwhelm me and slipped into the main room.

Darragh was standing in the middle of the tent and looked around at the broken furniture. There was a deep basin for washing laundry at his feet which would be a little cramped for the witch, but it would work just fine. There was also a white-and-blue Feurin dress and a pair of cream-coloured slippers inside the basin.

“That was fast,” I commented as I approached him.

“The basin is mine, I want it back, and you owe me ten óir for the dress and shoes. I just picked the first thing off the rack,” he admitted as his silver eyes drifted toward the curtains behind me and then back over my dirty armour. “Dare I ask what this is about?” he asked as I reached him and picked up the laundry basin. I saw him wince out of the corner of my eye when the scent lingering on me from Nuala reached him. “Kur’s bollocks, Rian, you smell !”

“I have acquired a new recruit, and she needed a bath,” I explained simply.

“You went alone?” he snarled, and Carrick snorted at the fire where he was steaming Ichor of Airmid leaves and warming a large cauldron of water with his magic.

“You know, I rather resent that everyone seems to feel I cannot do anything on my own,” I informed them both, attempting to redirect the demidragon.

“Do not play the fool, Rian, you know I do not doubt your capabilities. But why take such unnecessary risks?” Darragh insisted with his silver eyes glinting in offense. The dragon knew me all too well.

“I was losing her scent and everyone was occupied with other important tasks. Thank you for acquiring the basin and the dress so quickly,” I added in what I hoped was an effective dismissal for the stubborn arse.

“Where is this new recruit now?” Darragh asked me, clearly not about to let me run him off so easily.

“You will meet her later,” I advised him, because the last thing Nuala needed just then was to be interrogated by a surly Darragh.

“Rian, what are you hiding?” he demanded, even more agitated as he glanced at my chamber again.

“Why do you always suppose I am hiding something? She is just unwell, Darragh,” I defended myself.

“You go alone to retrieve her and now will not allow me to see her. We are not a medical facility, so what use is an unwell fey to us?”

“She is not… Surely even you can find use for a Seer,” I guessed, satisfied when his silver brows rose.

“A Seer,” he murmured thoughtfully before narrowing his eyes and cocking his head at me with more suspicion. “What court did she come from?” he wanted to know.

“No court, Darragh. Now, if you could—”

The demidragon gave a gruff grunt, like a dismissive snort from a vargr, and then marched by me toward the curtained bedchamber.

“Darragh, leave her in peace!” I protested, but I did not dare interfere with the dragon by grabbing him. He had excellent control of his animal form, but I would not put us in danger just to challenge the lengths of that control. Darragh was so stubborn and protective that I should have known he would insist on knowing what was going on.

I followed, setting down the wash basin when the demidragon drew the curtain aside as if he was expecting to uncover something scandalous. Instead, he recoiled and lifted the collar of his cotton shirt over the lower half of his face to cover his nose.

“Mercy of Kur,” he hissed, leaning forward just a little to peer at Nuala closer. It was not until her chest moved that the dragon seemed to accept that it was not a corpse laying on my bed, and he stepped back.

“You see?” I demanded and snapped the curtain shut.

“Where in the Four Courts did you find her?”

“She has been kept in the dark. Abused by her family,” I informed him, and then motioned for him to follow me back across the tent where she might not hear.

It was not until we were back at the tent entrance that Darragh finally lowered the collar of his shirt and looked at me in uncertainty.

“Rian, she is a fire witch,” he said finally.

“I am aware,” I assured him, but I could tell he was already thinking about all the problems this would cause. Most fey hated witches since their kind had spent millenia butchering us to be used in their magic.

“Are you sure she is a Seer?” he asked.

“Yes, and I would say that she is a powerful one too. Her whole coven seemed petrified of her promises that I would come to get her. She told me that she has known about me since she was a child,” I advised him.

This did not make the demidragon feel better. In fact, the confirmation only made everything worse because he knew the value of such an asset. Valuable enough to risk keeping her in spite of the strife she was sure to cause.

“She had better be a good Seer, Rian. We cannot afford for her presence to create any more conflict in our ranks. We have worked hard to foster unity, and a witch could threaten everything you have accomplished,” he warned.

A part of me, a younger and more idealistic sliver left over from my youth, wanted to ask how he could be so calloused after seeing the witch, but I knew he was right. With the fate of millions of fey depending on our ability to maintain unity in the Four Courts, embracing a witch was a risk that had to be carefully calculated. That was something which Darragh never had any difficulty doing. He was not like aes sídhe who were all taught to value our sensitivity and community. I’d had to learn to embrace my skepticism but at least it had been an easy thing to adopt. Empathy seemed like it was almost impossible to learn when it was not taught early. And although all I had were my suspicions about Darragh and his past after so many centuries of serving in the Wild Hunt together…

I did know dragons were not taught empathy.

“Some scouts need to speak with you. It is urgent news from the Vale,” Darragh advised me.

“I will go to them once Nuala is cared for,” I said.

Darragh shook his head at me in blatant disapproval, but he did not question my priorities.

“He is right. She will be in danger,” Carrick realized aloud once the dragon left. “You are beloved in this court, but I am unsure if it is enough for you to be able to protect a witch without… alienating yourself.”

I did not respond, I merely turned to retrieve the wash basin and entered my private chamber again. There were so many important decisions and considerations that all felt overwhelming when I still felt so unsteady after Aodhan’s death. I was usually in control of absolutely everything, including my emotions, and now I felt like little more than a fallen leaf in a strong wind.

I tried not to react when I returned to the chamber to find Nuala sitting up and staring into the lantern on the table next to my bed. But it was unsettling to see her gaunt figure sitting at the edge of my bed.

“Your bathtub,” I announced, lifting it for her to see as I came back into the bedchamber, but she did not look away from the flames.

“It has been so long that my eyes will not tolerate the light well enough to See anything,” she said. Her voice was so flat and emotionless that it was strangely uncanny. None of the fire in her from my dream seemed to remain in the poor creature.

“They will get used to the fire again,” I reassured her and positioned the tub in the middle of the floor.

“They must or I will be useless to you. Worse. I will bring nothing but chaos to your command here.”

“That is not…” I trailed off in sudden suspicion before straightening from over the basin. “You overheard?”

“In the absence of sight, my other senses have become quite powerful,” she admitted, still keeping her wincing eye upon the lantern in front of her.

I stepped forward and gently touched her chin to turn her face toward me.

“Do not worry about any of that. You will leave those under my command to me to worry about,” I ordered.

For a second, I thought I saw a familiar expression of relief in her face before she nodded, but I immediately dismissed the possibility. I went quickly to the main room to retrieve the first enormous cauldron of water that Carrick had warmed for me.

My uncle followed me back with a cup of tea which he set on the table in front of Nuala. In his other hand was a mortar full of a pasty mixture of crushed Ichor of Airmid that had a familiar and woody scent.

“Drink all of the tea. It does not taste good, but it will help with infection, parasites, and disease. I always found it to be a little more tolerable if you can get it down while it is still nice and hot,” he explained to Nuala who merely stared up at him. “This is for your wounds,” he continued seamlessly and set the heavy, stone bowl down next to the tea on the table before reaching into one of his pockets. “And you can drink these if you wish,” he finished as he brandished two vials before setting them down along with a roll of bandages. “This one will help with pain and… the other will prevent pregnancy.”

Her brows furrowed now, her good eye dropping to the vials he had left for her.

“Prevent it?” she verified in evident confusion, and she looked to me for an explanation.

“They will not taste pleasant either,” I warned her, attempting to smile in encouragement, but it felt brittle.

“Ornella will be able to heal her completely once she is rested and you call for her,” Carrick told me, his brows raising significantly.

I grunted in understanding and turned to the small desk against the wall at the foot of the bed. Stepping around éadrom who did not move, I retrieved the bag of soaps and oils I typically took down to the river to bathe.

“Drink,” Carrick encouraged Nuala, and I turned to see she was still looking from my uncle down to the cup and vials he had set in front of her in uncertainty.

“How… long does the preventive last for?” she asked, looking at me unexpectedly.

“It does not interfere with fertility in the long term,” Carrick reassured her. “It is more of a hindsight measure rather than a method for contraception. I should warn you that it might make you feel a little nauseous,” he admitted. “But there are other more effective contraceptives to take if you wish to explore those options later,” he added with his usual comforting smile and gentle bedside manner.

“I do not wish to take them,” she assured him with a glance at me, and it was the first time I’d heard a hint of her former fire in her voice. It was reassuring.

“Of course. You do not need to take the Bairnwort now if you would rather not. It is your choice,” said Carrick.

Nuala looked at me again, the uncertainty and alarm so clear in her expression that I felt compelled to step toward her as if I were called to her defense. It occurred to me that she may know she could trust me from her visions, but Carrick was completely unknown to her.

“My apologies, Nuala, this is my uncle Carrick,” I told her and set a hand on his shoulder. “He speaks true about the Bairnwort. It is safe and will not impact you longer than a couple of days. Carrick will not ever hurt you.”

Nuala eased as she looked back at Carrick, her one eye moving over him as if to reassess him.

“There is nothing he could do to me that has not been done a hundred times,” she dismissed, before she took the vials and dumped them both down her throat. Aside from a furrow of her brows and a downward curl of her mouth, she displayed no reaction to the horrible tinctures that I’d seen make grown orcs vomit.

My uncle looked exactly how I felt. As if he did not know whether to be sick or start a war on her behalf.

“No one is going to—” I began.

“Rian,” my uncle broke in gently and tilted his head for me to come out to the main room. I set the bag of soap and oil on the table and followed him with a reluctant glance back at Nuala. She had begun to sip her tea as if it did not taste like wood and dirt.

Carrick walked all the way to the other side of the tent. After what she told me about her hearing, however, I was not sure Nuala would not still be able to catch our words, so I erected a silencing ward just in case.

“She may cling to the idea that her world is not safe,” he advised me. “Hoping for safety might be too much just yet until she comes to trust that she will not be crushed by that hope. So allow her to cushion her mind however she needs to for now. Even if it makes you uncomfortable to be perceived as an inevitable threat, do not take offense, just show her gentleness and patience.”

I nodded, crossing my arms.

“Perhaps a female would be better suited to—”

“She trusts you , that is very evident. The choice should be hers, Rian. Everything, and I mean everything , is her decision unless her wishes are extremely unsafe. And she may try to make bad choices just to feel her own power to do so, and I would let her. To a degree,” he amended.

I nodded and averted my eyes as I debated again on whether I was the right person to take this on.

“You brought her here because you have a use for her. Discarding her now because she requires—”

“I have no intention to discard her,” I interrupted him sharply, turning my head to glare at him in offense that he would suggest such a thing. “But this is a sensitive role to step into, and I must be sensible about its reality given my existing obligations. Especially when time is short.”

Carrick inclined his head in a display of understanding and apology.

“You will have help,” he tried to assure me, but I could make no reply.

My eyes had fallen on a particular longbow resting on my weapons rack which was flawlessly crafted of yew wood with a well-worn leather grip. A short braid of my hair was tied along with red feathers from Pyrope’s wing to the upper limb above the string groove. I had a sudden urge to put my hand on the grip and see whether I could still feel the shape of the hand that had molded it.

A hand whose loving touch I would never feel again.

Emotion almost managed to overwhelm me, but I was able to repress it with all the fury that I could muster and then quickly turned away from the bow.

“And besides all of that, we both know that I am not well suited to nurturing survivors of abuse. I can barely contend with my own grief right now let alone that of éadrom for whom I am most liable,” I pointed out coldly, allowing no emotion to break through while I spoke.

Carrick was quiet for a moment as he processed my meaning before he suddenly grabbed my arm to yank me back around to face him.

“You did not fail Aodhan,” he growled furiously as I disbanded the silencing ward.

“I did, Carrick. As a leader and a lover. In every way,” I maintained with such absolute certainty that not even my uncle seemed to know how to respond before I turned away from him.

“Rian!” he shouted, but I could not speak anymore. Not unless I wanted all the pain I had carefully tucked away to come out of me in a dangerous and anguished fury as it had the night before.

Gods, I needed a drink. I glanced at the right corner of my tent where Sage had left the remainder of my wine. Beneath the table, I hoped Aodhan’s silver cneasú pipe had survived my earlier fit of rage in the trunk.

“I will find some food for all of us,” Carrick offered when I did not stop, and I finally hesitated just outside the curtain to my bedchamber.

“Thank you,” I said over my shoulder. “Nuala?”

There was no answer, but I did not hear the splash of water either, so I slipped inside to find she was still sitting on the edge of my bed. The finished cup of tea was on the table in front of her, and she seemed to be waiting with her head turned toward éadrom. My vargr had remained exactly as I had left him with his chin on his paws and his green eyes on the witch.

“He will not harm you,” I assured her as I made sure the curtain was closed fully behind me.

“He looks at me the same way that you do. éadrom,” she spoke his name with a soft affection. A name that she could not have known since I hadn’t spoken it except to my uncle under a ward.

To my shock, the vargr’s ears perked, and he lifted his head to turn it curiously at her before lowering it back onto his paws again without removing his eyes from her.

“You know him from your visions as well?” I guessed as I went to kneel on the ground in front of her, but she had focused on my knees in evident confusion.

“Why do you kneel?”

I was taken utterly off guard by her question, so I took a moment to consider my response.

“Does it offend you?” I asked instead, hoping to learn more about her response to this innocuous action.

“I… don’t know,” she admitted, tilting her head as she pondered. “You should not kneel. You are not meant to.”

I could think of more than a few courtesans in Lystby who vehemently disagreed with her, but I was not about to make a crude joke to this poor creature. It was unlikely she would even understand the meaning if I tried.

“Would you like to bathe?” I asked, and Nuala nodded at me slowly. “Do you want me to help you disrobe?”

“You can do as you wish. Why do you keep asking for my permission?” she asked me, frowning and shaking her head as if this made no sense to her.

The question sent a fissure of disgust blazing through me in spite of my intention to be patient. In spite of my intention to listen to Carrick’s suggestion and allow her to cling to whatever helped her feel comfortable. But I could not contain the urge to reassure her that she was safe .

“From now on, everything will be your choice, Nuala. Your needs and wishes matter, and no one will touch you without your agreement. So tell me what you want now. Shall I help you or leave you to do it alone?”

I heard her heart accelerating rapidly and that panicked wildness widened her one eye before she jolted as if she had stopped herself from reaching for me.

“Don’t leave—” she began to blurt before she caught herself and then quickly lowered her hand. She looked down and was silent for some time, her body trembling.

“I won’t leave,” I assured her softly, and she breathed deeply through her nostrils as if steadying herself before raising her head again. And although only her amber eye could open enough to see me, there was no mistaking that fire was still burning in her bruised heart.

“What I want is not to have to make all these choices,” she informed me with surprising confidence.

“What?” I gaped, the shock of her words like a slap.

“I am a witch in a faerie land that will hate me, and a child of fire who was thrown into darkness that swallows the flames. I am empty of needs and wishes save for one thing, the only desire that I remember wanting more than anything, and that was to be at your side. So I want you to say that I will not worry over those under your command. I want you to say I will bathe and eat and sleep, and when the time comes, I want you to tell me to See and to burn and to unleash all this rage, and I will . That is all I want.”

I was speechless, but I also understood perfectly what she was asking of me. The gods knew that there had been times in my life when I longed not to be the one to bear the burden of my own power. Times when I had sought my own forms of relief from the pressures of authority. She wanted a master. Someone she trusted to take control of her and her needs so she did not have to think or fight or feel anymore or be invested in anything real. And she already knew, because she was a Seer, that I would be that kind of person for her. She knew it was a role that I was willing to play in exchange for what she would give me.

I had been filled with dread at the thought of failing yet another abused soul, but this was not what I’d been expecting from Nuala. This was not about me healing her, this was about control and safety. That expression which I’d thought I could not possibly have seen in her face had been real . She felt more secure being under my command, and although I may not be able to help her heal mentally or emotionally, I could provide this to her. I could be the master she was craving and help her feel safe here.

Because the truth was that the thought of something being so wholly within my power was soothing to me too. And I knew that agreeing to use her like that, not just to help her but because I needed it to, was so unbelievably selfish and aberrant after what she’d been through, but she needed this as much as I did.

“Very well, if that is what you desire, then listen very carefully. You will allow me to bathe and dress you now, then you will eat, and then you will sleep. I will arrange for a healer to see you later. No one is permitted to touch you anymore without my permission.”

Emotion flooded her face, her brows furrowing as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth as if to stop it from trembling. Her one eye closed, and her breathing became so rough that I worried at first I had said the wrong thing. But then she nodded enthusiastically, and I recognized she was relieved. That was euphoric relief on her face.

“Can you stand?” I asked, making sure that my voice was firm and expectant rather than soft and pliant.

She seemed to think about it for a moment before she pushed herself up from the mattress. Her breath hitched sharply with pain, so I rose to take her elbow for support as she tried to straighten.

“That’s good. Hold still a moment while I get this off,” I told her, keeping one hand on her elbow while I reached for the torn collar of her dress. I ripped the filthy scrap of cotton off her and burned it into ash in the blink of an eye.

Then I scooped up her trembling body and carried her over to the basin to bathe her.