David Gemmell - Dark Prince

'What do you want here?' hissed the first. Nestus' fist cracked against the man's jaw, spinning him unconscious to the ground. Then he leapt at the second, seizing him by the throat and savagely wrenching the soldier from his feet. The man's neck snapped with a loud crack. Nestus had not meant to kill him and he dropped the body, stepping back horrified.

Kill the other, came the thought. Nestus drew his sword and, without hesitation, plunged it through the helpless warrior's throat.

Pushing open the doors of the palace he ran inside and up the long stairs to the third floor, making his way along the cold corridor to the Queen's apartments. His heart was beating fast now and his mouth was dry. The door to the Queen's rooms was ajar and he opened it just enough to slip inside. The moon shone brightly through the balcony window and the first thing he saw was a shimmering green robe tossed carelessly to a couch. Moving to it he lifted it to his face, smelling the perfume upon it. Arousal flared within him and he padded to the bedroom where Derae lay on top of the sheets. Nestus stood in the doorway gazing at her moonlit form. The Queen was naked and lying upon her side, her legs drawn up and her head resting on her left arm. Sweat broke out on Nestus' brow. Her golden skin seemed whiter than ivory in the moonlight, yet soft and warm, glowing with health. He swallowed hard and moved to the bedside, laying his blood-covered sword on the sheet. His hand moved to her arm, sliding over the skin, then down to her waist and up over the curve of her hips. She moaned in her sleep and rolled to her back.

Nestus smiled, thoughts of future joy flashing through his mind: a home by the sea, servants, children. .

She awoke and screamed, scrambling to get away. Instinctively he grabbed for her, his fingers curling into her hair and dragging her back.

'Stop it! It is I, Nestus. I have come for you. To rescue you!'

She ceased her struggles, green eyes focusing on his face. 'What do you mean, rescue me? Are you mad? If you are found here you will die.'

'I don't care. I have killed two men tonight and I'll kill any others who try to stop me. I have a plan, Derae. We'll go to Greta. I have friends there and we will be happy. But first you must dress. There is little time. I will explain all when we are on our way.'

'You are insane!'

'No! Listen to me. The city is doomed — nothing will save it. It is our only chance at happiness. Don't you see? We will be together.'

Glancing down, she saw the bloodied sword. 'What have you done?'

'What I had to do,' he answered, his hand reaching up, his fingers stroking her breast.

She pulled away from him. 'Parmenion will kill you for this,' she whispered.

'He is alone here. And he has never seen the day when he could defeat me in combat. No one has. I am the best.'

Suddenly she rolled from the bed. He lunged at her, but she was clear and running for the door. Seizing his sword he ran after her, but she had reached the corridor and was shouting at the top of her voice: 'Parmenion! Parmenion!'

He sprinted after her, catching her at the top of the stairs and hauling her back by her hair. 'You slut! You said you loved me and now you betray me!'

'I never loved you!' she answered him, her hand snaking out and cracking against his cheek. Flinging her from him, he raised his sword.

'I'll kill you!' he shouted. Ducking away from him she fled for the stairs, taking them two at a time. He ran after her but tripped and fell headlong, his sword clattering away from him. Dazed, he rose and gathered it from where it had fallen on an embroidered rug at the foot of the stairs. He swung round, seeking Derae.

'You have your sword,' said Parmenion softly. 'Now use it!'

The King was standing naked in the corridor, Derae behind him. 'You will die now, mix-blood,' Nestus told him.

Parmenion smiled and raised his own blade. Nestus ran forward, sword drawn back for the belly thrust, but Parmenion stepped aside — parrying the blade and hooking his foot round the charging man's leg. Nestus hit the floor hard, but rose swiftly. 'Be more cautious,' advised Parmenion, his voice cold. 'Anger makes a man careless.' Again Nestus charged, this time slashing his blade in a sweeping cut towards Parmenion's throat. The King dropped to one knee, the sword slicing the air above his head, his own blade ramming into Nestus' groin. The giant screamed.

Parmenion tore his sword clear and rose. Nestus stumbled forward several steps and then slumped to his knees with blood gushing from the severed artery. The warrior struggled to rise, but all strength was seeping from him and he fell forward, his face against the cold stone of the corridor floor.

His fury seemed to flow from him with his lifeblood.

What am I doing here, he thought?

He heard the sound of running footsteps and a voice shouting: 'Someone tried to kill the King!'

That must be it, he thought. I was here to save the King from his enemies.

Yes. Relieved, he closed his eyes. Father will be so proud of me, he thought.

Parmenion stepped back from the body and ushered the naked Derae into his rooms, pushing shut the door and letting the sword fall to the floor.

'He was possessed,' said Derae, moving forward with her arms opening to him. He held her gently, his hands in the small of her back, and neither of them heard the door open nor saw Leonidas enter. The Spartan warrior said nothing for a moment, then cleared his throat.

Parmenion turned, but did not release his hold on Derae. 'What is it, Leonidas?'

'I wanted to see that you were unhurt. . sire.'

'Oh, Leon, it was awful,' said Derae. 'You should have seen his eyes. I have never known Nestus to be like that.'

'He killed two sentries,' Leonidas told her, his voice cool. 'But I see that you are well, sire. I shall leave you. . both.

We will be ready to march in the morning. Five days, if you recall.' He bowed and left the room.

'His mood was strange,' whispered Derae, moving in close to her husband. Parmenion felt the warmth of her skin against his breast. Not strange, he thought; Leonidas has just seen his sister being embraced by an imposter.

'I love you,' said Derae. 'Promise me you will come back.'

'How can I make such a promise?' he answered huskily.

'You just say the words. I do not believe that you will be defeated. You are Parmenion, the King of Sparta. You are my Parmenion.'

He smiled and held her tightly. 'A wise man once told me to plan as if you were going to live for ever, but to live as if this were your last day on earth. Let us do that, lady. Let us treat tonight as if it were the last.'

He led her to his bedroom and lay down beside her, drawing her to him. They made love gently, slowly, for he felt no passion — only a desperate need to feel her skin against his, to be inside her, part of her. He felt himself building to a climax, but slowed and withdrew.

'Why are you stopping?' she asked him, reaching out to stroke the skin of his cheek.

'I don't want it to end. Not now, not tonight. . not ever.'

'You said that so sadly, my dear. There should be no sadness. Not tonight. . not for us.'

Her fingers slid along the surface of his chest, over the ridged muscle of his belly and down to his still erect penis, circling it. He groaned. - 'Does that hurt?' she asked him, her tone serious but her eyes mocking.

'You are a wanton,' he told her, pushing her to her back and rolling on top of her. 'And I shall treat you like one.'

Sliding down the bed, he bit lightly at the inside of her thigh. She cried out, opening her leg to escape him, but he turned his head — his mouth brushing across her soft pubic hair, his tongue slipping into her. She cried out again, but he ignored her. She struggled under him, but his hands held her firm. Then suddenly she relaxed and began to moan, her body arching violently, her legs tensing. This time her cries were not of pain nor outrage, but arose from the shuddering, violent release of tension that only orgasm can bring. Finally she slumped back to the bed, her arms outstretched.