Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

One of the accompanying soldiers pressed nearer. “Marlord. The others are just ahead. Will we camp for the night or keep moving?”

Halchon spoke over her head. “Camp, but not just yet. I want to travel as far as we can even after the light fails.”

“Do you expect a pursuit?”

Halchon laughed softly. “I do. But not until her distracted friends realize that she’s missing. They won’t know who’s got her or where. We have some time, I think.”

Speaking in a rather hesitant voice, the Gisseltess man said, “But aren’t they mystics? Her friends?”

Halchon’s own voice dripped with contempt. “ She’s a mystic, and she was quickly taken. Don’t be afraid of magic, soldier. It is so easily overcome.”

It’s not , Senneth wanted to cry. Only mine! Only by you ! But she did not even have the energy to speak.

In another five minutes they had come upon a group of soldiers stationed along the road. Senneth tried to count-maybe fifty of them-all in Gisseltess black and red. Her despair intensified. Perhaps, if she had been able to free herself from Halchon’s hold, she would have been able to fight off the six or seven men who had helped him handle the ambush, but she could not outmaneuver this many. She had no idea how quickly her magic would return once Halchon released her. Instantly? In five minutes? In an hour? The way she felt now, she might never be able to call fire again.

And there was no guarantee Halchon would ever release her…

After a brief conference, the two groups merged and continued on the westward journey, traveling much more slowly now that it was almost completely dark. There were no jokes between the men, no wasted excursions off the road. This must be the marlord’s most elite and devoted guard, efficient and seasoned.

None of them were likely to be moved to pity by Senneth’s situation.

No one would help her. She could not help herself. She could so easily die.

She would rather die, if the alternative was to take Halchon Gisseltess to her bed.

After about another hour of riding, the lead soldier came trotting back to where Halchon rode in the center of his men. “Marlord, up ahead about a hundred yards is a good place for camping. Under a natural overhang, with water not far. Defensible and out of the wind. Or did you want to keep riding?”

“No, that sounds good. Make it ready.”

The soldier nodded and rode off. Halchon gave Senneth a little squeeze and murmured, “Did you hear that? I’m sure you’re glad to hear we’re about to make camp. You’ve had a long and tiring day and must be longing to lay your head down.”

She did not answer. She wasn’t sure she could. She tried not to shiver, she who was never cold, but a small shudder passed through her, and she was sure he could feel it.

He laughed. “Senneth, Senneth, Senneth. All these years we’ve been friends, and you’re still afraid of me? I’m not going to take you on the cold ground surrounded by a few dozen of my men. I have waited too long to enjoy the pleasures of your body. We will be in Ghosenhall, perhaps, or Gissel Plain-or at least some fine inn with clean sheets and a decent brandy!-before I make you my lover.” His arm tightened again. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. She felt as if he had laid ice against her skin. “But that day will be very soon, I promise you. I have waited a very long time, and I am not in the mood to be patient much longer.”

There was no need to reply, for they had arrived at the evening’s campsite. Now , Senneth thought, trying to will her muscles to tense, her mind to plan for action. Now, in the chaos of dismounting, in the confusion of many bodies. Break free of him. Set all his men on fire .

But she couldn’t do it.

He didn’t release her, in any case. He freed himself from the stirrups and then leapt lightly to the ground, still holding her clutched against him. For a moment, her feet wouldn’t support her and she swooned against him, feeling dizzy, feeling weak. But then his hold shifted. He kept one hand clamped tightly around her right wrist, but no longer had an arm passed around her waist. She could breathe again, and she took in great windy gusts of air. She almost felt steady, almost believed she could think.

Surreptitiously, she made a fist of her left hand, but her fingers were cold. There was no fire in her. Halchon still had hold of her, and all her magic was in abeyance.

“I need a moment of privacy,” she said to him in a raw voice.

Someone had started a campfire, and so he had just enough light to peer into her face. “She speaks! And asks for impossible things.”

She stared at him steadily, letting him see all her hatred, all her defiance. She didn’t have to put her hopelessness on her face; that he had obviously discerned for himself. “Then I suppose I will wet myself here in the middle of your camp.”

He seemed amused. “We might both attend to our bodily needs a few steps out of the firelight,” he said. “Tricky, yes, but we are modest, resourceful people. We shall each endeavor to turn our eyes away and let the other attend to his or her business.”

Revolting, embarrassing, but unavoidable. She followed him past the overhang, crouched when he did, accomplished her task with the minimum of grace, and followed him back into the firelight. Someone had already laid out a simple meal, and Halchon pulled her down next to him on a blanket before the fire.

“Are you hungry, my dear?” he asked her in a solicitous voice.

Not at all. She thought she might choke if she tried to swallow anything, but the gods alone knew what the next few hours, the next few days, held for her. She must try to keep up her strength. Who knew when an opportunity might present itself? “A little.”

“Then here. Some bread, some dried meat. Plain fare, but tasty after a hard day’s riding.”

Both of them ate one-handed, for his fingers were still locked around her wrist. She was clumsy with her left hand, but that forced her to focus on using it, and that meant some of her attention was distracted from her fear and anger and revulsion. When would her friends realize she was missing? Had Cammon, perhaps, sensed her distress, or was Halchon’s antithetical nature preventing the other mystic from picking up any signal from her at all? Tayse would have started worrying by now, particularly if Kirra had reported that Senneth planned to be back by nightfall.

Assuming Kirra herself had made it back.

She forced herself to look at Halchon. “So was it a lie then? About Kirra?”

“Oh, she’s quite healthy, as far as I know,” Halchon said. “Of course, I missed half of the day’s battle, so any number of your friends could have fallen by now.” He took a bite of meat. “Serramarra Kirra Danalustrous. Marlord Kiernan Brassenthwaite. Princess Amalie.” He took another bite. “Your husband.”

“All of them would gladly give their lives,” she said quietly, “if it meant keeping you from the throne of Gillengaria.”

“Well, once they realize I’ve got you , I think some of the fight might go out of them,” he said.

“Do you think to ransom me? Use me to convince them to lay down their arms?” She shook her head. “The regent would never advise the princess to make such a disastrous trade. Neither would my brother. Not very sentimental men.”

“No, and I quite applaud their hard-heartedness. But I think, when they see how easily I have captured you , they will reassess their chances of success against me. They will say, ‘Ah, that clever Halchon. We cannot win against him. We will cut our losses-we will surrender while we can.’ ”

“I don’t believe the loss of one mystic will weigh that heavily in their calculations.” They were far enough away by now that it didn’t matter what he knew. “Besides, there are reinforcements on the way even as we speak. Ariane Rappengrass has brought an army to fight for the princess.”