Phantom of the Heart (11 page)

“You have just settled my heart greatly, my daughter.” Cybralle placed her hand on Orla's broad shoulder. “I must tell you again, how glad I am that my daughter chose you. I doubt she would have found a better mate in all of the kingdom and beyond. I will leave you to your work then. See you at supper time.”

***

“Milord.”

The dark head turned slowly and feral eyes met those of the newcomer.

“What could be so urgent that you forgot my directive to not be disturb?” the large man growled, as he slowly pushed to his feet. The messenger paled, as his eyes moved beyond the master to the remnants of his meal. “Speak up, man!”

The man swallowed and nodded nervously. “A large battalion of Arnati soldiers is making their way to the Karasi border.”

The news grabbed the leader's attention immediately. “How many men exactly, Humud?”

“An estimated three hundred, milord.”

Humud watched as his master processed the information. After more than twelve years in the service of this man, he still felt uncomfortable in his presence. Not because he was a cruel master, no. He was probably the most just man Humud had ever known, but his size and those peculiar eyes of his made men shake in their boots in his presence.

“Do we have any news on Ridat?” The master's deep voice shook him from his reverie and he quickly nodded.

“His scouts were spotted dogging the convoy.”

The large man scowled. For a few moments, he just stared into nothingness with a strange look on his face.

“They are going for help.” Those spooky eyes lit on him again, and this time Humud felt a shiver go down his spine. “Send out fifteen men to trail the convoy as protection. They may not be aware of it, but we are fighting on the same side.”

“Yes, milord.”

Chapter 11

The candle flickered wildly as a slight breeze disturbed the air in the room. Stealthily, Cybralle's hand moved to the hilt of her sword. She was so deep in thought she had not even heard the door open. Thanks to the flickering candle, she knew she was no longer alone.

“Who is there?” she asked sharply. Since the arrival of Prince Halen, she had been suffering from extreme bouts of paranoia. She was jumping at her own shadow, something she had never done before.

“Your wife,” came the soft reply.

Cybralle sighed deeply and turned her head to locate her wife. “Then come to me, my wife. I have need to rest my head against your bosom. I need to hold onto you to ease my worried thoughts.”

Mesmeria stepped out of the shadows. She was already dressed for the night, her body visible through the sheer material of her nightgown. Mesmeria settled herself on Cybralle's lap. Cybralle moaned in pleasure, as the queen's hands pushed through her short hair and pulled her head against her breasts.

“You have been restless during your sleep. Are you not tired?”

Inhaling the soft, citrusy scent of her wife, Cybralle nodded. “I am exhausted, my love, but until I know what is happening in Arnat, I will not find peace.”

Gripping the cool dark strands in her hand, Mesmeria pulled Cybralle's head back so she could see the handsome face.

“I will not send you away from me looking as ragged as you do now, Cybralle.” The green eyes were serious. “As your sovereign I have the right to refuse to send my best warrior. Unless—”

Cybralle felt her ire spark. “Unless what? How can you be so selfish?”

The green eyes widened in shock. A flash of intense pain crossed over the beautiful face. Mesmeria slowly got off Cybralle's lap and, with silent steps, left her wife sitting alone in the candlelit room. Cybralle shook her head slowly.
What just happened?
She pushed both her hands through her hair and groaned. She did not doubt that what just transpired was more her fault than Mesmeria's. With a heavy heart, she climbed to her feet and walked down the long hallway to their set of rooms.

She slowly opened the door to their chamber. A quick glance at their bed proved that Mesmeria had not retired for the night yet. Closing the door behind her, she walked through to their personal lounge. Her heart felt heavy when she found her wife sitting quietly before the fireplace, a book open in her lap.

“My love?” When there was no answer, she slowly made her way over to squat next to the chair. “Please forgive me.”

A soft sigh sounded and Mesmeria turned to face her. “You are forgiven, Cybralle.” The green eyes were cloudy as they studied her. Cybralle reached for her wife's hand and brought it to her lips. “Cybralle, you seem to forget that I have too much to lose if you do not return to me. You are exhausted and I cannot take the risk of sending you from my arms into a dangerous situation knowing the chance exists that I might not hold you again.”

Cybralle hung her head in shame. This was what Mesmeria had wanted to say to her earlier and instead she… Cybralle groaned inwardly. She felt a soft touch on her head, small fingers combing through her hair.

“I know and understand why you are acting this way. You are the most honorable person I know and that is one of the many reasons why I love you. I will never stand in your way of helping others, but I love you and am scared of losing you. Thus you were not wrong when you called me selfish.”

Cybralle's head jerked up. “No, I was wrong to call you that. I totally misunderstood.”

Mesmeria's eyes were warm as they looked into hers. “I do not think so, my love. When it comes to you, I am a selfish wife. I have worked too hard to win your love.” Mesmeria lowered her head and Cybralle sighed softly as her wife's soft lips touched hers.

When the kiss ended, Cybralle swallowed hard. “Next time I act like an oaf, have me dragged out into the square and whipped.”

Mesmeria giggled. “How dramatic, beloved. I will use that as a last resort, but I know of more pleasurable ways of handling you.” The queen rose to her feet. “Come to bed with me. Until the convoy arrives, I will make it my duty to ensure that you get enough rest.”

Cybralle came to her feet and allowed herself to be led to their bed. With infinite tenderness, Mesmeria helped her out of her clothes and into bed. Cybralle eagerly pulled Mesmeria into her arms and held her close.

“I love you, my queen.”

“I love you more, my consort.” Mesmeria placed a small kiss on her chin. “Now try and sleep. I will watch over you.”

***

The cave was dank and dark, the stench of fear and death hanging heavy in the air. In the center of the cave stood a tall, thin man, his hair a limp curtain over his face, hiding his expression. His hands were folded behind his back.

“How many new ones have we recruited so far?”

A man shuffled closer, his eyes deep-set in a scarred face. “We have fifty new ones, Master. More will soon find their way over here.”

The thin man turned to the speaker. “Good work,” he said in a soft lisp. “I need more though. Send out more recruiters.”

“As you wish, Master.” The man turned to leave.

“Brodin?”

The man turned. “Yes, Master?”

The master's head lifted and Brodin met the pitch-black gaze. “Do you know why Peron is always one step ahead of us?”

The servant swallowed, scared of knowing neither correct answer nor the answer his master desired.

“I…I have no idea, Master. We have a bigger army than his.”

The man took a small step forward, making the servant cringe inwardly. Obviously his answer was not the one sought.

“Even then, we are still losing more troops to him.” The black eyes flashed. “I will tell you why.” He cocked his head to the side, causing his black eyes to glint menacingly in the flickering candlelight. “Peron is selective about who he recruits. Where you…,” the black eyes flashed again, “and your men…recruit paupers and farmers…he…recruits warriors.”

Brodin shivered at the cruel look that came over the master's face. The last time he had seen that same look on Ridat Clemel's face was also the day he was recruited, brutally.

“We will recruit the best we find from now on, Master,” he choked out softly, lowering his eyes. When he looked up, he found Ridat smiling at him.

“Yes, you should do that. Now, leave and keep me informed about the convoy.”

***

Lima shuddered as she watched her daughter eat her meal. She was worried about Orla. These past months, Orla had been wasting away from lack of proper eating. Suddenly, about a week ago, her daughter had shown an unexpected appetite. Lima should be happy, but the abrupt change seemed to worry her more. As she looked now at her daughter while she ate, Lima could not help but feel that there was something amiss. It was not so much the near orgasmic look on her daughter's face as she ate, but it was more what she was eating.

Of late, Orla had taken to eating meat. An unsettling amount of it too. Lima swallowed uncomfortably as she looked at her daughter's plate. The plate, was almost swimming in blood, creating a stomach-churning tableau of red-rimmed vegetables and blood-soaked bread.

“I cannot understand how you can even eat that,” she whispered, looking away as Orla lifted her head, a streak of bloody sauce running down her chin. She sighed when Orla reached for her napkin and wiped her mouth. For as long as she could remember, Orla had always had an acute aversion to blood. As a child, she would close her eyes tightly when she sustained a scraped knee, so she could not see the blood. But now, it was almost as if Orla reveled in the sight and taste of blood.

The blue eyes were clouded as they studied her.

“It is quite tasty mother. You should try some.”

“No, thank you, daughter. I can hardly look at you eating that raw meat without my stomach doing summersaults.” So many things had changed of late. Orla seemed different somehow. Her beautiful blue eyes had a sharpness about them that was not there before and she seemed almost…larger than she was before.

Lima shook her head slowly. “You have changed.”

Orla reached for the blood-soaked piece of bread and took a bite. “For the past months you have pestered me for my lack of eating. Now that I do, you feel like vomiting.” Orla took another bite. “You even dragged me to the healer.”

Lima sighed again. “I am just worried about you.”

“You need not be, Mother. You heard what the healer said. My lack of healthy eating has caused me to crave more protein in my meals. She said it was not uncommon for me to eat this much meat. The bloodier the better too.”

Lima scooped up a piece of carrot and ate it. “And what about your vegetables?”

“Ah, Lima, stop pestering the girl already,” Cybralle cut in. “Look at her. She is in perfect shape for our journey to Arnat. I believe she is in much better shape than all my men together.”

Lima smiled weakly before turning to look at Cybralle. “A mother never stops worrying about her children. As a mother I am sure you know what I mean.”

Mesmeria chuckled. “Yes, my love, you of all people should know that. You are like a mother hen when it comes to Sterling.”

Cybralle grinned apologetically. “You are right, Lima. No matter how old they get, they will always be our little girls.”

Lima bowed her head and threw a sharp glance at Orla. “Now eat your vegetables too. They are good for you.”

Lima watched as a pouting Orla warily began to eat from her vegetables. It was odd for her to see Orla like this. It was as if an utter stranger were sitting opposite her. She lowered her eyes to her own plate. For the first time in a very long while, she wished for Gentro’s presence. Maybe he would have been better at dealing with this. He was always so calm and thoughtful. He was never one to panic easily. She has been thinking about him a lot lately.

She took another bite from her bread and looked up. She blinked in surprise to find Orla's eyes studying her intently. The blue eyes, so like Gentro's, seemed to be looking right through her.
What is going on behind those eyes?

***

Orla leaned against the trunk of the tree and closed her eyes. She was scared…no…terrified. Something was not right. She could feel it. Her body was foreign to her. It was almost as if something bigger and more powerful than herself had nestled inside of her. And then there was the itching. Her skin felt as if it was on fire from the inside out. She took a shuddering breath. She felt as if she were ready to explode.

“It is a pleasure to meet you again, milady,” a quiet voice said behind her. Orla spun around, her body in a battle stance.

She cocked her head to the side as she studied the man. He was familiar, but she knew he was not from the village. She was vaguely surprised that she had not heard him coming nor had she smelled him. Along with the many changes in her body, her senses of hearing and smell had been amplified. That was one of the reasons she found herself spending more and more time in the forest, away from the village and its many overwhelming sounds and scents. She took a tentative sniff at the man and her gaze narrowed. She still could not smell him because he was standing downwind. It was almost as if he knew. The idea was unsettling.

“Who…who are you?” she croaked. She did not detect any aggression from him and slowly relaxed her muscles until she was standing up straight again. She saw the man's eyes widen as he took in her size when she unconsciously rolled her shoulders.

“I am your loyal servant, milady.”

“What does that…” She took a step closer, causing the man to stiffen. “I know you. You were at the church on the day of my wedding. What do you want from me?”

The man relaxed gradually. “I am your servant, milady. Whatever it is you need done, I will do it for you.”

Orla slowly looked the man up and down. He was not dressed like a peasant. Just like the day at the church, he was dressed in casual, but obviously expensive, clothing. His jerkin and pants were leather. She searched him for weapons and shook her head when she found none.

“What kind of fool are you to walk around unarmed, especially with the type of clothing you wear? You are an easy target for thieves.”

The man smiled broadly at that, confusing her even further. “I have no need for weapons, milady.”

Orla snorted. “Then you are surely a fool.”

“Not in the least, milady. I fear no one here and the only one I fear is not my enemy.”

Orla blew out a frustrated breath.
Can the man be any more confusing? First he sneaks up on me, calls himself my servant, walks around unarmed and then spouts some foolishness.
She needed to get away from him. It was obvious that he was addlebrained.

“I have no need for a servant, especially not one that is foolish enough to believe himself invincible.” She turned to walk away.

“I know what you are going through, milady. I am here to help you through it,” the man said quietly.

Orla turned back slowly, her eyes intense as they pierced the man.
He knows what is going on with me?
The man's dark-blue eyes were serious as they looked back at her. For the second time in these few minutes, she could not shake the feeling that the man did indeed know what was wrong with her. His eyes were open and his posture relaxed.