Darzid pushed me into the hands of one of the guards. Drawing his knife, he slit Karon’s left sleeve from shoulder to wrist, exposing the scars for the crowd that had begun to gather by the music room doors. No assault could have been more devastating. Karon, blinking and trying to shake off the blows to his head, struggled to pull his arm close in to his body, but he could not move.
“Take them to the king,” said the sheriff, motioning to the heavily armed soldiers who had appeared behind him. “Have a care with the man. He is dangerous beyond your imaginings. Bind his eyes. Keep four spare guards ready at all times.”
Darzid took my arm again. “If he utters a sound, I’ll kill the woman.”
We passed a blur of wide-eyed onlookers, including a bewildered Sir Geoffrey, as Darzid propelled me down a softly lit, wood-paneled passageway and into a comfortable sitting room. Evard slouched on a brown velvet couch, and Tomas stood stiffly behind him.
“Your Majesty,” said Darzid, with a deep bow. “The information provided by Sheriff Maceron has proven correct. It is no paragon of virtue to whom the Lady Seriana has gotten herself wed, but to a sorcerer—if such a sublime state as matrimony can be said to apply to a fiend.” Underneath his display of shock, I felt him laughing.
Four soldiers shoved Karon into the room. A scarf of incongruously bright green was tied about his eyes. Blood soaked one side of it.
“Your Majesty, I beg you right this injustice,” I said. “Is this the way your servants treat members of noble families or men who hold positions in your household?”
Evard looked past me to Darzid. “He is incapacitated?”
Darzid nodded. “He’ll not be dangerous as long as we control him, prevent him from speaking, and keep his eyes covered. And as long as we have the woman.” He was as cool and matter-of-fact as if he were discussing the finer points of a new horse.
Nodding, Evard rose from the couch, walked over to Karon, and stared at his arm. “Oh, Seri, my dear girl, what have you done? You could have been queen of the Four Realms. Instead you’ve chosen to consort with a demon.” He bent over to examine Karon’s scars more closely. I wanted to scream.
“He’s bewitched her,” burst out Tomas. “This is all Gault’s doing.”
“Gault will be dealt with.”
“Is that what this idiocy is all about?” I said, desperate to gain some foothold. “Martin has long relinquished all claim to the throne. You’ve no need to manufacture some fantastic plot to discredit him. Tomas, can you believe I would marry a sorcerer? I had the same tutors as you.”
But no one was listening to me.
“And so, Sheriff,” said the king, straightening up again. “What is it that such creatures as this do?”
“These scars indicate that this one claims to be a healer,” said Maceron, moving to Evard’s side. “In fact, sorcerers of his kind can indeed pull a passing spirit from the brink of death. What could be a more disgusting distortion of nature than depriving a soul that is done with life of its proper end? The sorcerer does it, not out of generosity, of course, but to create a spirit slave who has no choice but to do his foul bidding.”
“And it causes this?” Evard curled his lip as he touched Karon’s arm. Karon jerked away and the guards twisted his arms tighter.
“In all its perversity, it’s quite an impressive show. Would you like a demonstration, your Majesty? There would be no danger in it as long as Captain Darzid and I control him. He can do only one working at a time. And it would be inarguable evidence at his trial.”
I looked from one to the other, trying to understand what they were saying.
“I don’t see how you could make him do it.” Evard flopped onto the couch again, looking skeptical.
“I know a very good way,” said Darzid. He whipped off Karon’s blindfold and nodded.
Karon blinked, and his gaze flicked to something behind me. For the first time since I’d known him, I saw fear in his eyes.
“Karon, what is—?” Fire exploded in my back, and roaring erupted in my ears. Karon yelling… Tomas, somewhere far away, cursing. My head spun. I couldn’t get a breath, and my knees turned to water. Only as I felt warm wetness spreading across my back did I begin to comprehend. “No… don’t…” I tried to warn Karon, but my tongue refused to obey me. There would be no going back if he did it. They had no proof unless he gave it to them.
My knees gave way. Someone caught me. “Damn you. Damn all of you. Get a surgeon in here.”
I floated in and out of awareness, the words and shouts drifting through my spinning head.
“… a knife, clean and sharp.”
No, Karon, no. They’ll not let me die . My tongue wouldn’t work.
“… grace your son…”
“Damnation, what is it he does?”
“… fill my soul with light…”
Fire ripped my arm. No, Karon …
“… death to touch either one of them while he…”
“J’den encour , my dearest love…”
I had been so cold sleeping, but now all was warm again. I lay on my back. A smile crossed my face. Connor Martin Gervaise was getting big enough that sleeping on my back was becoming uncomfortable. And the bed was so hard. I tried to roll over, but couldn’t. Karon was there. I felt him breathing. Tassaye, tassaye, he whispered. Softly. Softly. He was holding my arm so tight. I couldn’t move it, and my eyes fluttered open to see him leaning over me. What had happened to his face? Was it from the earthquake? Such terrible bruises… and blood all over… one eye swollen shut, and he was so pale… almost transparent like the day at Windham…
It all came flooding back to me. “No,” I said weakly.
His eyes flicked open… such love in them. When he smiled, I felt the warmth of his life flowing in my veins. “Cut it now,” he said to someone over his shoulder. And to me, “It is a wonder. All of it.”
My arm was released, but before I could reach out for him, they dragged him away, and there on Sir Geoffrey’s fine carpet, they beat him until he was insensible. Fear lent weight to their fists.
I sat unmoving on the floor where they’d left me, and stared at the door through which they had at last taken him away. Someone came up behind me, and I flinched, but the hands that lifted me up and led me to the empty brown velvet couch were not rough hands. Tomas sat me down and knelt in front of me. No one else was in the room. “By Annadis’s holy sword, Seri, what is he?”
I fingered the place on my arm where Karon had made the incision. There was no remnant of it but the fire in my memory. It would have been too difficult to hold me around the back where the knife had gone in. Better to make a new place to mingle the blood… the blood of life.
Tomas spoke as if I were a child. “Has he bewitched you? Silenced you with some ensorcelment? Is that what happened three years ago? Did he control you even then?”
I stared at my brother, trying to comprehend what he was saying. My mind was in chaos, horror and wonder entwined in a mortal embrace.
“Seri, tell me you’re all right.” Fumbling, he examined my back. My gown felt damp and scratchy—stiffening as the blood dried where Maceron’s blade had gone in. “Holy gods, it’s impossible.”
Finally I gathered words. “Tomas, you must help him.”
Awkwardly he put his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll take care of you, Seri. We’ll find out what must be done… the priests… to purify you. Are you free of him now he’s away from you?”
“No. You don’t understand…” I tried to tell him about sorcery and the J’Ettanne. But the longer I spoke, the farther he withdrew from me, and by the time I noticed, it was too late. I had told him about our child.
Tomas spoke in muted horror. “You let him do that to you? Plant you with his venomous seed? How could you live? Was there no knife, no sword to put an end to your debasement?”