Knight of Darkness (6 page)

Merewyn wanted to run as far away from here as she
could get, and yet as she neared the end of the hallway, she realized that she had nowhere to go. No place to hide in this land where Narishka and her minions wouldn’t find her and bring her back. There was no way out of Camelot without extremely strong magick, power, or a merlin’s key—things she didn’t possess.

The only place to go would be Glastonbury, where the cruel inhabitants would take glee in handing her over to her mistress.

And if you keep going, Narishka will beat you for it.
An image of Varian’s bloodied body went through her mind. They needed him alive. She, personally, wasn’t that lucky. There was nothing Narishka needed her for. She would be beaten and tortured until she died.

When Narishka had found her after she’d fallen
from a rooftop during her one escape attempt, she’d told Merewyn that if Merewyn ever tried to run away again, she’d feast on her entrails, then bring her back from the dead as a mindless ghoul.

Flinching with that thought, she reversed course and returned to the dismal room where the stench of blood and sweat permeated the stagnant air. Blood coated the links and metal cuffs that kept Varian chained to the walls and on his feet. She was certain he hadn’t slept in days. Hadn’t sat or been off his bruised legs for even a moment.

Yet he said nothing about the abuse. He merely took the beatings in stride as if he somehow deserved them.

As she neared him, he lifted his head and pinned her with a stare so malevolent that for once she saw the resemblance between mother and son.

“So you’ve returned,” he said dryly.

She gestured toward her tray at his feet. “I forgot my things.”

He raised a doubting brow that all but called her a liar. Merewyn moved closer to him so that she could take her tray.

He didn’t speak until after she’d bent down for it. “I know who you are.”

She snorted at the words he whispered in an ominous tone. “Of course you do. I’ve already told you my name.”

“No,” he said, his voice thick and dry. “I know
you’re the deformed woman I saved from a beating in Glastonbury.”

Those whispered words froze her to the spot. She couldn’t breathe or move. Surely it was a game he played with her. There was no way he could know that. Deciding to brazen this out by not letting him know that he’d guessed correctly, she forced herself to put the cloth on the tray.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tilted her head back to meet his probing stare.

There was no reprieve or mercy in those glowing green eyes. They burned her with intelligence and unholy power. It was as if he could see straight into her soul, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Of course you do. I’m not a fool, Merewyn. I knew the moment I saw your eyes who and what you were. My mother changed everything about you except for that. Your eyes will always give you away.”

A need to close them consumed her, but she didn’t so much as blink. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to her.

“I know my mother, lass. The question is, do you?”

The tray forgotten, she rose to her feet to confront his hostile glare. She refused to let him judge her when she was only doing what she had to, to survive in this hell. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He licked the blood away from his lips before he spoke again. “Whatever bargain you made with
her to be beautiful, I assure you it won’t work. She won’t leave you with that beauty, trust me. She’ll take absolute pleasure in stripping it from you and listening to you cry out from the pain of seeing it gone.”

That was her worst fear, and it held her throat in an iron grip that radiated through her entire body. She didn’t want to be ugly anymore. She didn’t want to be spat at, despised, and mocked for ugliness.

She only wanted to fit in and be seen as something other than a monster.

Still, he gave neither her fear nor conscience reprieve. “You’re going to die, Merewyn. Without a doubt.”

“Narishka won’t kill me.” Those words were bitter on her tongue, and having said it aloud to him only added to her conviction that Varian spoke the truth.

“You’re lying to yourself if you believe that.”

Merewyn shook her head, and she forced herself to believe her own lie. “I’ve been with her far more centuries than you have. I know her better than you.”

“Do you?” he asked with a cold, humorless laugh. “Here, let me guess at how all of this has played out. She told you to come in here and be nice to me. To bring me food and water, and bathe my brow, so that I would be tempted by your beauty and weakened by your kindness. Your task is to talk to me of goodness and to show me mercy
so that I will be bonded to you and grow to like you—that has been her plan from the moment she started beating me. But it won’t work. I’m not weakening even in the slightest degree. And when my mother grows bored from trying to pry my armor off, she’s going to bring you in here to stand before me and hold a knife to your throat. She’ll press it so close to your beautiful neck that it’ll prick your skin until a bead of your blood coats the blade. You’ll most likely be crying as you realize that your fate is in the hands of a woman who couldn’t care less about you. Then she’s going to give me a choice—join her and Morgen or watch you die by her hand.”

Merewyn didn’t move or even breathe as the image he painted with his words hung heavy and clear in her mind. She could even feel the coldness of the blade. See the twisted delight in Narishka’s eyes as she demanded Varian join them.

Varian gave her a look that pierced her straight to the heart, and when he spoke, his voice held the full weight of his intent. “When that moment comes, I
won’t
save you.”

Her mind screamed a silent denial. Surely she hadn’t come this far and survived so much cruelty to die as he said. Not even Damé Fortune would be that mean. “I don’t believe you.” Varian was on the side of good. Such men as this didn’t let innocent people die. Not when they could stop it.

“Oh you better believe me, little girl,” he said, curling his lip. “Better
you
should die than those
who protect the grail from Morgen. Just as I’m willing to die for my conviction, I’m willing to see you dead for it, too. That is a promise.”

She swallowed at his sinister tone, and she didn’t doubt it for a second.

“If you want to live with that beauty you’ve bargained for, then you’d best run.”

How easy he made that sound. Didn’t he think that she wanted to? “And where am I to go? There’s no place for someone like me to hide from your mother. Her powers are absolute…she even captured you who claim to know her so well. She would seek me out and kill me instantly just for causing her to leave her chambers.”

“Then you are doomed.”

She clenched her teeth against the wave of hopeless, bitter pain that consumed her. “I already know that.” And it was true. She’d damned herself the moment she’d sought out the old hag in the Mercian woods and paid her to summon an Adoni for her so that she wouldn’t be forced to marry a man who couldn’t see anything more than her beauty.

There was no going back now.

Yet as she stared at the mangled man before her, she realized just what she’d become here in Camelot. Magda had been right. She was no longer human. She’d allowed Narishka to take everything from her.

Everything.

Even her humanity.

She was completely worthless now.

But then, she’d never been strong. All her life in Mercia, she’d been spoiled and vain. Stupid. A young girl so caught up in her own world that she’d thrown her entire life away rather than marry the man her father had chosen. She’d foolishly dreamed of love and happiness. At that time, she’d thought herself worthy of it.

And now, instead of bargaining herself, she’d sold out another person for her own selfish gain. She looked at Varian’s bloodied face, at the places on his wrists where the iron cuffs had chafed and bruised him.

“
Will you be able to look in the mirror knowing your beauty was bought in blood?
”

She knew the truth.

Hanging her head, she removed her tray from the floor and started to leave. But before she did, she turned back to look at Varian. His beautiful hair was matted by tangles and blood. His handsome face distorted by bruises. Still, he stood strong even while in pain. Still, he managed to appear powerful and certain when inside he had to be tired and dying. He was such an idiot to fight them when it was obvious he couldn’t win.

Or…maybe he knew something they didn’t. Maybe, just maybe, he was his mother’s match.

That thought led her to another, which gave her the first bit of hope she’d had in a long time.

Don’t do it, Merewyn. Don’t!

But the words were out of her mouth before she
could stop them. “If I were to free you, would you take me away from this place?”

He gave a bitter laugh as if he found the idea every bit as preposterous as her inner voice did. “You can’t free me from here.”

Even so, she was undaunted. “What if I could?”

He met her gaze levelly, and the ice in his eyes chilled her. “You get me out of here, and I will make sure that no Adoni ever lays a hand to you again. Ever.”

“How do I know I can trust you to keep your word?”

“I swear it on the soul of Arthur himself.” He said those words with such heartfelt conviction that she did the impossible. She believed him.

“Very well. I will trust you to keep that oath, and I will free you anon.”

Varian watched as she left him alone once more. He knew better than to put any faith in her. What could she, a mere servant, do?

You will die here.

Clenching the chains in his hands, he pulled against them with every ounce of his strength. His body throbbed and burned in protest as he tried something he knew was futile. Still, he had to attempt it. It’d never been in his nature not to fight.

Anger swelled inside him as he was forced to relax and hang limply from the chains.

Weary, but not defeated, he hung his head and closed his eyes to summon something soothing to
ease him from the pain and despair he felt. Normally he envisioned a small, quiet cottage on top of a hill, where he was free to sit and read while a bright sun peeped in through the open windows, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of honeysuckle and birdsong.

Today that dream eluded him. Instead of his cottage on the hill, he saw the winsome smile of a woman he knew he couldn’t trust at all. The winsome smile of a woman who’d traded his life so that she could have her beauty…

Merewyn left her tray in a small alcove, then stealthily made her way through the winding gray corridors of Camelot. What she was doing was so foolish that she couldn’t believe her gall, and yet what choice did she have?

Varian was right. His mother would never let her go. And no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise, she had no doubt that he would sacrifice her without hesitation. Just as he’d said.

This was the only way she knew to save her life.

Her heart hammering, she paused outside a large, black door that dwarfed her small frame and rapped quickly on the cold wood.

“Come in.” The voice was deep and masculine.

Merewyn hesitated until she remembered the fact that the man inside couldn’t really see anything whenever he was in human form. He
wouldn’t know she was any different than what she’d always been.

Holding that thought close, she opened the door and stepped inside the small bedroom that belonged to the mandrake named Blaise, who sat by his fire in repose. He had his hands resting on his taut stomach, with his legs stretched out before him as if he’d been napping. Tall and leanly muscled, with long white blond hair, he’d once been the personal servant of the former king of Camelot, Kerrigan.

But Kerrigan had turned against Morgen a little over a year ago and had joined ranks with the Lords of Avalon. Blaise had been with him in the fight until he’d managed to free himself from the king’s clutches. Then Blaise had returned to Camelot to report Kerrigan’s treachery to Morgen.

At least that was the story Blaise told.

Merewyn knew better. There was much more to the mandrake’s return than he let on. Narishka might have taken her beauty, but she hadn’t taken her intelligence or her intuition. “Forgive me for disturbing you, my lord.”

He cocked his head at an odd angle as if he were trying to see her with those light violet eyes that shimmered with color. His white hair was pulled back into a long braid that fell over his shoulder, to his waist. Though he claimed albinism, he had deep tawny skin and a face so ruggedly handsome that every Adoni here had quested for his
body…at least for one night. She, herself, had never failed to notice his beauty, but it was his gentle regard toward her that had attracted her most. “Merewyn?”

“Aye.”

“Does your lady need something?”

In all these centuries past, she’d never ventured into his chambers for any other reason. The two of them had only passed each other by as they ran about on errands for their masters. Their meetings had been brief and usually consisted of her relaying a message from Narishka to Kerrigan.

One way or another that ended today.

She had no guarantee that Blaise would help her in this, but he was the only hope she had. “I need a favor from you.”

He arched his brows in surprise. “A favor from me?”

“You would be the only person in this room besides myself. So that means you are the only you I could be speaking to, correct?”

A lopsided smile curved his lips. “Sarcasm? That’s new for you, isn’t it?”

Not really. She’d always been that way, but usually she kept such comments to herself. “Please, I haven’t much time. There is one here who needs help.”

His expression sobered instantly as he straightened up in his chair. “You know as well as I do what helping someone gets you here in Camelot.”

Closing the door, she moved across the room
until she stood close to Blaise. She lowered her voice so that no one outside the room could overhear them. “I do. But if something isn’t done, Varian will die.”