CHAPTER NINETEEN #4
“Nei,” Ellysetta choked. Oh, gods! Not this. Not her sweet, beautiful, innocent sisters. “Lillis. Lorelle. Nei.”
“You know,” the Mage said conversationally, “it came as quite a surprise to discover that your Celierian sisters both possess strong magical gifts, including quite a significant talent in Azrahn. It certainly made them easier to claim—once my new torture master persuaded them to accept the first Mark. Of course, their magic doesn’t hold a candle to yours, but they’ll be quite useful, nonetheless.
” His cold silver eyes watched her closely.
“Gifted female breeders are not as easy to come by as you might think.”
She lunged for him, teeth bared, no thought in her mind but to rip him into bloody bits with her bare hands.
Her chains were no longer held by guards.
They were bolted to the stone floor, with no give.
The collar around her throat ran out of slack first. Momentum made her fly off her feet.
She landed hard on her back, choking for breath and tugging to loosen the collar around her neck that threatened to strangle her.
“There isn’t a Hell hot enough for you,” she snarled when she could speak. “You’d best kill me now, because if you don’t, I swear by all the gods you will die by my hand.”
He laughed with genuine humor. “I worked centuries creating you and expended countless resources getting you back. Are you really so foolish as to think I would throw all that away by killing you?” He shook his head.
“No, I won’t kill you, Ellysetta.” He gestured to the guard behind her, who immediately grabbed her head in a viselike grip.
The Mage stepped closer, ran a hand down one side of her face in a disturbingly gentle caress.
“You know what I want. You can surrender now, without pain, or you and everyone you love will suffer until you do. And when I say suffer, I mean you and your loved ones will crawl on your knees and beg me for death. But I won’t give it to you, Ellysetta.
I intend to keep you alive for a very, very long time. ”
She jerked her head back to avoid the poison of his touch and tried to snap at him with her teeth, but the guards held her too tight.
In the end, words were her only weapon. “My parents survived a thousand years of your torture. All I have to do is to survive long enough for you to make a mistake. And when you do, I will destroy you.”
“You forget one thing, my dear.” He ran a thumb across her lower lip. “For every one of those thousand years, your parents had each other. You, however, are all alone. Or soon will be.” On that cryptic note, he turned, and said politely, “Lorelle, my sweet, give us more light.”
Lorelle’s Fire magic spun out, and half a dozen sconces along the walls flared to light.
Ellysetta’s heart slammed against her chest.
On the other side of the room, his naked body heavily manacled and chained to the wall, was Rain. A stocky brute of a fellow stood beside him, next to a table loaded with torturers’ implements, and as the brute stepped into the light, Ellysetta’s jaw dropped.
“Den Brodson?”
“Hello, Ellie.”
Ellysetta stared in disbelief at Den Brodson, the son of a Celierian butcher who had, at one time, been Ellysetta’s (wholly despised) betrothed.
The months had not treated him kindly. He was a young man, but his hair, greasy and unkempt, was now liberally streaked with gray, and there were deep grooves along the sides of his mouth and bags under his blue eyes.
His ruddy complexion had faded to a sickly olive gray.
His stocky build had softened to doughy fleshiness.
“Oh, Den… what have you done?” There was only one reason he would be here. He had sold his soul to the Mages. She shook her head in horror. As much as she’d always despised him, Ellysetta wouldn’t wish Mage-claiming on her worst enemy.
“Young Brodson has been surprisingly useful for a mortal peasant,” the High Mage informed her. “If not for him, my chemar might never have found their way to Teleon—and on to Dharsa. And he was quite adept at finding your sisters in Dharsa and bringing them back to me.”
“You monstrous bogrot,” she breathed. He’d always been a hateful bullyboy, but she’d never realized he could be such a fiend.
“You were supposed to be mine, Ellie Baristani!” he spat. “You bore my Mark! Your family signed the papers! You were mine!”
“I was never yours, Den,” she shot back, “and I never would have been! How could you think I would ever give the smallest part of myself to a foul Shadow snake like you?”
Blue eyes, surrounded by stubby black lashes, narrowed with sudden, glittering malice. “Well, you won’t be the Tairen Soul’s either, Ellie Baristani. At least not for much longer.” He looked to the High Mage. “Master?”
Vadim Maur nodded. “You may begin, umagi.”
“Wait,” Melliandra said as Lord Shan started for the door. “You’ve been here a thousand years, but you don’t know Boura Fell. If you stumble around blindly, you’ll just get yourself killed or captured again.”
“Do you know where he’s got our daughter?”
“I know where he’s got the Tairen Soul—I heard rumors in the kitchens. If he’s still there, your daughter will most likely be nearby. If she’s not, I know of a few other places to check.”
“Then tell me quickly,” Shan said.
Melliandra started to tell him but then stopped. There was too much he needed to know—and he needed all of it to ensure his best chances of success.
“That will take too long. It’s better if I show you.
” It took a lot for her to make that offer.
All her life, she’d lived in a body that was not her own, possessed a mind that was invaded at will.
She’d been abused, both physically and mentally, again and again.
As one who had spent her life powerless, she never willingly gave of herself without expecting some personal benefit in return.
And she definitely never deliberately made herself vulnerable—not to anyone. Until now.
She lifted his hands to her face and opened her mind, offering him access to the part of her mind not even Vadim Maur could enter. “The information you need is here in my mind. Take it.” When he didn’t immediately take her up on her offer, she snapped, “Quickly, before I change my mind.”
He gave her a deep, searching glance, then nodded and said, “Beylah vo, ajiana.” The way he said it felt almost like a kiss pressed against her cheek. “And forgive me, this may be uncomfortable.”
She gasped softly as Lord Death dove into her mind.
She suspected he was being as gentle as he could, but she could feel him inside her head, briskly rifling through her thoughts, siphoning off the information he needed.
Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, and her breathing turned ragged, fearing that he would look beyond the thoughts she’d pushed to the front of her mind to the other thoughts…
the thoughts of Shia and her son. But he did not trespass.
He took only what he needed and no more. Then her mind was her own once more.
“This will do,” he said. “This will more than do. You have a good eye.”
The compliment made her flush with pleasure. “Go,” she ordered brusquely, to hide her reaction. “You don’t have much time.”
“Then come with us,” Shan said. “We’ll see you to safety once we kill the Mage.”
“I can’t. I’ve got things of my own to tend to.”
Shan nodded in understanding. “Good luck, kaidina,” he said. “I know you think the Fey would kill you, but you will always find welcome in the House of Celay.”
The woman, his mate, reached for Melliandra’s hands. “Miora felah, ajiana. Blessings of the Fey upon you, child, and may the gods grant you more joy than you ever thought possible.”
The soft words were accompanied by a rush of warmth so strong, and a feeling of such…
such… Melliandra had no words to describe it.
The closest she could compare it to was the dizzying pleasure when she’d called her magic that time in the refuse shaft.
It was like freedom and Shia’s smile and sunlight and blue skies all wrapped up in a single moment that made her want to laugh and cry all at once.
She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself to hold the feeling to her for as long as she could.
When she opened her eyes again, Lord Death and his mate were gone.
Chained to the walls of a lightless cell in the bowels of Boura Fell, Bel, Gaelen, and the rest of Ellysetta’s quintet awaited their turn in the torture masters’ untender care.
Since waking from their drugged sleep, gods knew how many bells ago, the screams of their blade brothers had not stopped.
Those screams had been growing steadily louder, as the torture masters of Eld worked their way down the line of new prisoners.
A few chimes ago, however, the screams had fallen mysteriously silent.
“Do you think the torture masters have tired themselves out?” Gaelen pondered with black humor.
“More likely, we’re next, and they’ve just gone to sharpen their blades,” Tajik said.
Locked up in the room with them, Farel gave a grunting laugh of amusement. “Could be. They’ve been using them enough.”
“You know,” Gil announced, “as rescues go, I have to say, this one pretty much scorches rultshart turds.”
About a man length from the source of Gil’s voice came Rijonn’s rumbling agreement. “Tairen turds.”
“I told you,” Gaelen said, “I had backups. I don’t know what happened to them.”
A metallic scraping sound came from the direction of the door, and they all fell silent.
The scraping sound was followed by the distinctive click of the latch lifting free.
The door swung inward, and a sliver of light—the first in bells—spilled into the cell, widening rapidly as the door opened more fully.
Two armored silhouettes stood in the doorway.
“Well, aren’t you a sorry sight,” a familiar Fey voice drawled.