Her heart aching for him, she carefully wiped away the blood from his mouth, then picked up a small bite of garlic-roasted venison and held it to his lips. Given his earlier comment about starving, she half expected him to spit it at her or refuse. Instead, he dutifully parted his lips and allowed her to place the meat on his tongue.
Varian wasn’t sure why he was allowing her to feed him at all as the salty meat burned the cuts on his lips and his loosened teeth. Yet he couldn’t seem to help himself. He was afraid that if he refused, she’d leave him, and he was strangely enjoying her pampering, such as it was. No one had ever been so kind to him, especially not when he was weak like this. All the people he’d known, including his father and brother, had only attacked him more whenever he was down.
Her touch was gentle and warm, and it soothed him on a level that was frightening.
But what surprised him most was the fact that she wasn’t a miren, mandrake, Adoni, or sharoc. There was no magick to this woman whatsoever. No power.
She was human. Completely.
How was that possible?
He winced as he swallowed the meat down his bruised, parched throat. “Why are you here?”
She looked back at the tray of food on the floor. “To feed you.”
“No,” he said quietly. “How can a human be here in Camelot?”
Her eyes turned dark and sad. “By great foolishness on my part.”
It was then he understood. And when she met his searching gaze, he knew exactly what had happened to her. “You made a pact with an Adoni.”
She nodded glumly.
To his shock, Varian actually felt for her and whatever stupidity had possessed her to make her bargain. The Adoni never fulfilled their promises, unless they involved pain and torture. No human should ever be at their mercy. “How long have you been here?”
“A few hundred years.” There were tears in her eyes that she didn’t allow to fall as she wiped more blood from his brow. “Early on, I kept thinking that I would eventually die of old age and leave here. But they wouldn’t even allow me that. So here I am, eternally at their mercy.”
“I’m sorry.”
She frowned at him as if she found his words as hard to believe as he did. Yet he truly meant them. “Why should you be sorry? I’m not the one chained to the walls.”
She did have a point. “True, but eventually, I’ll get out of here and kill them.”
She looked doubtful as she fed him more venison.
Varian carefully chewed and swallowed before he spoke again. “Do you have a name, lass?”
“Merewyn.”
It was a beautiful name that fit her ethereal grace. In the fey Adoni language, a merewyn was a sea witch. A tempting mer-creature that would grab unsuspecting sailors from their boats and drag them down to the bottom of the sea and trap them there to serve them until they grew tired of the man’s presence or form. Then the merewyns would feed them to the sharks.
Perhaps that was a fitting name for a woman like her.
“Would you care for wine?” she asked softly.
“Please.”
She lifted the cup to his lips, then tilted it a bit too much. The wine ran into his mouth, stinging his cuts and causing him to gasp at the new pain. He choked.
She pulled the cup away and quickly wiped his lips with her towel. “Forgive me. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
Varian closed his eyes. Even through the agony of his body her touch soothed him. How could he feel anything other than the pain of his beating? It didn’t make sense, and yet somehow he did. Somehow she touched him through it all, and that honestly scared him.
As she fed him a piece of bread, he caught a whiff of her sweet skin. She smelled of rosewater and lilac and it made him wonder what it would be like to lay his head in the crook of her neck and just inhale her fragrance.
What it would be like to touch her smooth, soft skin. Taste her mouth and have someone so kind…so human, in his bed.
But then he knew better than to even think that. No matter how much he might wish otherwise, he was Adoni. Conceived by deception and sold for one woman’s vanity. It wasn’t for him to have a human. He didn’t deserve such comfort. All he deserved was hatred and scorn.
Angered at the thought of her kindness and at the fact that she was weakening him, he pulled back. “Leave me.”
Merewyn was stunned by his harsh words. “What?”
He pinned her with an icy glare that cut straight through her. “Leave,” he growled in a tone so guttural, he reminded her of a gargoyle.
“Merewyn?”
She flinched at the sound of his mother’s voice. She didn’t want to leave him alone to their cruelty again. How could she? No one deserved this.
“Did you hear me, scab?” Narishka snarled.
Still she hesitated even though she knew she’d most likely be beaten for it. She didn’t want them to renew their cruelty to a man who was so obviously suffering. Her stomach tight at the thought of what more they’d do, she took a moment to clean his swollen face one last time.
Varian met Merewyn’s gaze and saw the compassion and regret that filled her. She gently wiped his mouth before she released him.
He had to clamp his swollen jaw shut to keep from calling her back. How ironic, their cruelty hadn’t once moved him to tears or pleading, but the thought of her leaving him almost did. It was why she had to go.
Weakness was death to a creature like him. Strength. Solitude. Those were what he needed to live and thrive.
And when she paused at the door with the tray held in her hands to look back at him, it was all he could do not to beg for mercy.
Instead, he glared at her, hoping…no, praying that she didn’t return. He couldn’t afford it. Closing his eyes, he let the pain take him away from any solace. Let it seep through him until it was all he felt. It allowed his magick to grow in strength, but it still wasn’t enough to get him out of this. Not yet. But with any luck, if they kept beating him, it would.
Then he would show his mother exactly what she’d bargained for. He would happily give her a taste of his hell-born powers.
Merewyn felt a single tear slide down her cheek as Varian dipped his head again so that he was looking at the floor while his dark hair hid his features from her. Wiping the moisture away, she hated the thought of what else they’d do to him. His face was so misshapen, and his eyes had been filled with utter agony. But that wasn’t her business. She’d done what her mistress required.
Stiffening her spine, she walked through the door and closed it tight, then glanced at Narishka, who appeared proud of her accomplishment.
“Will you continue his torture now?” she asked, as the tray dissolved out of her hands.
Narishka shook her head. “We’ll let him heal a bit. Right now he’s so sore that he’s most likely numb to any more pain. Besides, he’s got enough magick left to make himself feel better.” She stopped as if considering that thought for a moment. “I wonder why it is that my spell didn’t remove all of his powers? Perhaps I should have made it stronger. Although I gave it enough of a charge that it should have depleted even the Kerrigan. Amazing really. I guess I underestimated his strength. No more of that, eh?”
Merewyn was aghast at Narishka’s coldness, but she made sure she didn’t show it. She wanted to ask her how she could do such a thing, but she already knew the answer. Narishka was evil to the center of her dark soul. She didn’t care for anyone. Really. If Morgen were to fall from power tomorrow, Narishka would just as easily serve another. So long as she could spew her venomous cruelty, she was happy. She didn’t care who it was against or even who she aligned herself with.
Narishka looked at her and tsked. “We’ll have to hide you for a bit.”
“Hide me?”
“Yes. To look as you do now is to invite nothing but trouble from the others. And the fact that you’re a virgin…too tempting. There are many dark spells that call for the sacrifice of beautiful virgins.
It would do me no good to have you sliced open right now for someone’s play for power. And it would take me too long to replace you with another human. So, hiding it shall be.”
Before Merewyn could even open her mouth to speak, she found herself alone in a windowless, doorless room. “Mistress!” she called, but no one answered.
She felt her way around in the darkness, only to learn she was in a very small, empty room with no blanket, pillow, or anything else. Once again, she was at Narishka’s mercy, and she hated it.
Shrieking, she slammed her hand against the black wall as her eyes strained to see something. Anything. But it was hopeless. Narishka had left her with nothing.
That lying bitch!
Merewyn slid to the floor as her ragged emotions tore through her. Anger, hurt, hopelessness. Yet underneath that, she realized that as bad as this was, she was still better off than Varian. At least she wasn’t chained to the wall for their cruel pleasure.
And with that came a wave of despair so large that it rolled over her and left her breathless.
“There’s no way out,” she whispered, her chest aching with the truth. Magda had been right. Narishka had no intention of letting her leave. Ever. She was going to die here. Somehow that bitch would trick her again and keep her in this land of viciousness.
“No, she won’t,” she swore to the darkness with angry conviction. She was smarter now than she’d been as a girl in Mercia. Having lived with Narishka all these centuries, she’d learned much from her mistress. She knew this game, and by all that was holy, or not, she was going to win her freedom. No matter what it took, she would leave this place and never look back. She didn’t care who she had to sacrifice or what she had to do.
“I won’t ever be a fool again.”
Chapter 5
Two days later
“It’s no good, my lady. So long as his armor’s in place, there’s not much else we can do to him.”
Varian took pride in the scream of frustration his mother let out at the mandrake’s words.
She coldcocked the mandrake hard enough to send him straight to the ground before she raked her nails down Varian’s swollen cheek. He hissed from the pain but refused to make any other sound in response.
Her eyes snapping fire, she turned on the other mandrake, who cringed in fear of what she’d do to him. Cupping himself, he took three steps back and had to stop as he collided with the wall. It was enough to make Varian laugh.
Which only made her angrier. “Fetch a crowbar, jaws of life, can opener, I don’t care what you have to do, I want that armor off him!” she ordered the one standing mandrake.
The dark-haired mandrake nodded quickly before he ran from the room and Narishka’s reach while the blond mandrake was still in a fetal position in the corner, cupping himself.
Varian spat the blood from his mouth onto the floor. “What’s the matter, mum? Is my torture getting to you?”
She backhanded him.
He laughed at her anger. “You know. They’re right with their saying. There’s nothing sweeter than the loving touch of a mother.”
She grabbed the sledgehammer from the floor where the immobilized mandrake had dropped it and slammed it into his stomach with enough force to lift him off his feet. Varian felt the blow all the way to his bones as his body was jarred by it. Still he refused to cry out or beg for mercy even though it was all he could do to breathe he hurt so badly. Every gasp, every bone. All he wanted was for this to stop.
His mother shrieked again. “Why won’t you bend?”
Because it was what everyone expected of him. His father, his brother, every warrior in Avalon. Hell, even Arthur had expected him to side with his mother and Morgen at some point. There were times when Merlin, too, looked at him as if she were waiting for him to turn.
But he would never do that.
Even if his own conviction wasn’t so set, the fact that everyone expected it would be enough to keep him on the path of light.
He would never prove them right by joining ranks with the Adoni and Morgen.
Varian hissed as he felt something biting into his back as a grayling tried to pry the armor free. “It’s like it’s skin or something, my lady.”
His mother cursed him as she realized he was correct. That’s exactly what his armor was, and it was why it hurt so badly whenever they tried to remove it.
Her cheeks mottled by her fury, she threw the sledgehammer into the corner. “There has to be a spell to weaken this. Mandrake, grayling, withdraw!”
They quickly left him alone with his mother. She buried her hand in his hair and jerked his head up until he was looking at her. He could taste the blood that was running from his lips and nose, smell the sweat of his body from the hours of grueling torture.
Her eyes were dark with curiosity, and they lacked any compassion for him. “Why would you rather I beat you than simply do what I ask?”
He gave her a taunting smile. “Because it is ever my goal to piss you off.”
She snapped his head back before she let go of his hair. “Why I bargained for you, I’ll never know.”
“Simple, mum. You wanted a bouncing baby boy to love and take care of you in your old age.”
She sneered at him. “I should have drowned you when you were born.”
And he returned that gesture with the same degree of disgust. “I should have been so lucky.”
That got him a nice slap in the face before she stalked out of the room and left him there to hang. Literally.
Varian let out a slow, tired breath as he stared at the fresh and dried blood on the floor. His blood. It made him wonder what his father had gone through at Morgen’s hands before she’d killed him, too. Not that he cared. It was more morbid curiosity than anything.
“What did you do?”
He glanced up at Merewyn’s soft voice as she stood in the doorway with a look of abject horror on her beautiful face. “Bled mostly. Why?”
She grimaced at the sight of his face as she drew nearer. He could only imagine what he must look like to her. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to woo a woman anyway. Rather, he was basically worthless.
What else is new?
Still, he knew it wrong to look forward to her visits. Especially since he knew who and what she really was, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to see her every day. She was the only bright spot his mother had allowed him…which was his mother’s intent.
Merewyn placed her tray on the floor before she picked up the cool cloth and held it against the worst of the cuts on Varian’s face. Four rows of jagged welts went from his temple to chin. It looked as if one of the mandrakes had drawn his claw down his face. She couldn’t help but ache at the sight of it.
He sucked his breath in sharply at the touch of the cloth that must have stung deeply. “I don’t need your kindness, Merewyn.”
“You need someone’s. Perhaps your own might do you some good.”
“Is that supposed to make sense?”
“Yes,” she said sharply. For some reason, his stubbornness angered her. Why wouldn’t he just do what they wanted and end this? “Give them what they want so you can go free.”
He snorted at that, then grimaced as if a sharp pain had gone through him. “Would you sell out someone for your freedom?”
She looked down at his words, unable to respond. The answer made her feel ill. “They’re going to kill you, Varian.”
His face was stoic as those vibrant green eyes captured her gaze. They held a passion and fire that was fathomless and surprising given his current situation. “We all die, one way or another. It’s how we live that matters.”
Even so, she didn’t understand what allowed him to stand strong against such brutality. “What matters to you so much that you would endure this pain for it?”
He didn’t respond.
“Tell me?” she asked as she moved the cloth to wipe away the blood from his lips. “Is it friendship?”
“No
.”
“Love?”
He gave a bitter laugh at that. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“Then what?” She pulled back to stare at him. “What is so dear to you that this”—she gestured at his mangled body—“is trivial in comparison?”
“I don’t know,” he said in a quiet tone.
She shook her head in disbelief, then narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t know, and yet you bleed for it?”
He gave her a gimlet stare that froze her to the spot. “Is there not something you would bleed for?”
“No,” she said fervently. “Nothing. Why should I? No one would ever bleed for me.”
One corner of his mouth turned up in a mocking smile. “Then we’re the same, you and I.”
“How so?”
“No one would ever bleed for me either.”
Was that supposed to make sense? “Then why suffer this?”
Again she was stung by the intensity of emotions that shone so brightly in his eyes. “Because I won’t be what my father was. I won’t turn against my oath. Not for anything.”
She didn’t agree with him, but at least that made some sense. “Then you bleed for honor.”
“I have no honor.”
“Then you bleed for nothing.”
“And you would bleed for nothing, either.”
She dropped the cloth and clenched her hands in frustration at him. “Don’t twist my words around. That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
Unable to stand the scrutiny of his gaze and the sting of her own conscience, she started for the door.
“Merewyn, wait.”
She paused at his voice and turned to face him again. “Yes?”
His gaze was sharp as if he were measuring her worth before he answered. “I…” He glanced to the floor as his voice broke off.
“You?” she prompted.
Once again he met her gaze and held it. “I need a favor, if you don’t mind.”