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She retreated after placing the cheese on the floor. Only when he'd eaten the food did she approach again and leave a second piece. It would not do to feed him too quickly when he had been starving so very long.
The same could be said for the Lord of the Black Castle.
She'd attempted too much too soon in speaking of Elden and his father at once, driven by the knowledge that time was running out at an inexorable pace. From his violent reaction to King Aelfric's name, it was obvious that the Blood Sorcerer's twisted spell was even more entrenched than she'd believed. Not even a crack marred the carapace that was the black armor that held him locked away from his past.
Worry turned her gut to lead, made the food lose all taste, but she forced herself to finish the sandwich, then a small apple. What strength she had came from her own blood, and she couldn't afford to allow that blood to grow thin and weak. If her father found her. . .
Bile, bitter and acidic, rose up in her throat.
"No," she whispered. "No. " He wouldn't find her. She'd only discovered the location of the youngest prince because of her visions. Even then, it had taken her five attempts to get to a realm most knew only as the most terrifying of legends. The first two times that she'd failed hadn't been so bad - she'd been able to return home before her father noticed. The third time, she'd ended up with a fractured forearm after landing wrong, and the fourth. . . the Blood Sorcerer had been waiting for her.
Her skin tightened as if under the lash of a razorwhip.
"But I didn't break. " A fierce reminder. That night, as her back was shredded, so much meat exposed to the air while she lay naked and chained to a massive stone table carved with channels that sent her blood trickling into collection pots, she'd managed to convince the Blood Sorcerer that her spells had been fueled by a wish to find a talisman that would cure her mother.
He'd believed her; he found it vastly amusing how much it hurt her that Irina never so much as acknowledged her presence.
"No matter what you do - " he'd paused to rub his finger over a seeping wound " - she belongs to me. " A chuckle as he stepped away to flick the whip almost desultorily over her already ruined back.
Blood seeped out of her ravaged flesh, sliding down her ribs and into the channels. "She's my mother. " A mother she loved.
Another laugh, deep and from the chest, as if he had never heard anything so ludicrous in his life. "Then I give you leave to discover this wonderful talisman. Do show it to me when you find it. " A stroke of the whip over her shoulders. "I think my pets will enjoy their time with you. "
Spiders - huge and mutated for use in another spell - fell from the ceiling to crawl all over her body, their furred legs rasping over her flesh, their mouths sucking on the raw meat of her back. Panicked, she tried to use her sorcery to escape, but her father was stronger and the restraints held.
The entire time they terrorized her, he sat where she could see him, a small smile on his face.
The Guardian of the Abyss flew across the skies, his wings slicing through the night air in much the same way as that of the bat over to his right, his wings as leathery and as dark. He didn't know where his wings went when he landed - they simply appeared when he needed them and ceased to exist when he no longer wished them present.
A gift from the Abyss.
He thought of Liliana's tale of a realm without magic and snorted again. As if such a land could ever exist. An instant later, his mind pricked at him with the other part of her story, the part about that place, the name of which he couldn't even think about without a thunderous pain in his head, an anvil striking at his skull from within. He flew harder, faster, in an effort to escape the relentless pressure.
A whisper of oily evil.
Having located his prey, he moved toward it with furious swiftness. The man-shaped shadow was running over the ground in a vain effort to escape his fate, heading toward the borders of the realm. The majority of the condemned woke up from death to find themselves in the howling cold of the Abyss, but some were able to claw themselves to a stop in the badlands.
They had to be caught and sent through the doorway, for he would not take the chance that they might turn in the other direction, and seek to possess one of the villagers. However, sometimes, he allowed them to run - because waiting out here were creatures who could catch even shadows, crunching them up with sharp teeth before spitting out screaming, mangled tears of black.
It was a lesson no one had ever wanted to repeat.
Sweeping down on wings designed for deathly silence, he clamped his hands over the figure's arms. It thrashed, panicked that anyone could restrain it - for it was little more than smoke - but the lord of this place had always been able to hold those destined for the Abyss.
After all, that was the reason for his creation.
Crying, scared, a small child in a dark, dark place.
Guessing the alien images and emotions were the result of an attack by the creature in his grasp, he entrapped the shadow using thick black ropes infused with his blood, ensuring there'd be no more attempts at coercion. Then he flew through the cold, moonless and starless night, impatient to capture the others and return to the Black Castle. To get rid of his burden, nothing more.
But after he landed, the shadows locked up in the cages from which nothing could escape, he strode not to his room, but to the kitchen. The lock on the door was no impediment. Everything in the Black Castle obeyed its lord, flesh or ether or metal. Everything except the woman fast asleep on the floor near the hot belly of the stove.
Stepping closer, he stared down at her. She wasn't beautiful, this Liliana with the potent magic in her blood that he knew and yet could not name, this storyteller who told him outlandish tales as if she thought them true. Her nose was too big, her eyes too close together, her hair so much black straw.
But. . .
He watched her until she sighed and turned toward him, as if in welcome.
Crouching, he reached for her - and saw the gauntlet around his forearm, the spiderweb crawling across the back of his hand to turn into sharp claws above his nails, indestructible armor that kept him safe from evil, and shut him away from the world. He rose, his hand clenched into a fist, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
He stared at the lock for a long, long time.
If he left the door unlocked, she might decide to leave.
He snapped the lock shut.
It had nothing to do with Liliana. He just wanted to hear the rest of her ridiculous tale.
Chapter 6
Liliana woke to the sound of small feet moving around the kitchen. "Jissa?"
"Yes, it's me. I'm making sweet, sweet chocolate. "
Liliana jerked into a sitting position at once. "Where did you get it?"
Jissa smiled, showing a row of pointed white teeth. "He brought some once. Nowhere, where, I don't know. "
Astonished at the idea that the beautiful monster with eyes of winter-green enjoyed chocolate, Liliana rose to her feet, reaching back to twist her hair off her neck. "He must like it very much to have searched it out," she said, heading to the washing bowl in the corner.
"I made him some the first time he brought it, yes, I did. One sip he took and said it tasted not right. Not right. " Jissa poured the liquid into two small cups. "Is right!"
Face washed and dried, Liliana came to take a sip of the rich, sweet liquid that made her toes curl. The only reason she knew and adored the taste was because the cook had had a weakness for it, and the kind man had shared his store of it with her on the days when her father had brutalized her to silence. Violence and chocolate were indelibly linked in her mind, but she refused to let that diminish her pleasure in the treat. "You're right. This is perfect. " Licking a droplet off her lips, she remembered the cook reaching for something to sprinkle on top. "Unless. . . "
Jissa, having started to pull together the ingredients
for a loaf of bread, wasn't paying attention. "Shall we make fruit porridge this morning, Liliana?"
"Perhaps we can put the fruit in the bread," Liliana muttered, putting down her chocolate to rummage through the cupboards. "It will taste lovely toasted. "
"What do you search for?"
"Cinnamon. "
A mournful shake of her head. "No, don't know. Don't know at all. "
"I'm sure it must be here. " If the youngest son of Elden had found chocolate and brought it home, then he may well have hunted out the spice that was so very common in his homeland that it was put in everything from casseroles to sweets. . . to a little boy's chocolate.
A squeak met her when she opened a lower cupboard.
"Mouse? A mouse!" Jissa turned with rolling pin held high, her face scrunched up into a scowl. "Nasty creatures! Show me, show Jissa. "
Liliana closed the door. "It was only a squeaking hinge. Don't forget the sugar syrup or the bread won't taste as sweet. "
"Oh, dear!" Distracted, Jissa dropped the rolling pin onto the table and ran to get the syrup.
Soon as she was far enough away, Liliana opened the door a crack, put her finger to her lips and whispered, "Have you seen the cinnamon?"
Small black eyes gleamed at her in the dark before her little friend darted out and along the edge of the cupboards to the very corner of the kitchen, where it slipped under a set of tall shelves just as Jissa returned. "Oh, you must help me, Liliana," the brownie wailed. "He won't, won't like what I make. I don't want you thrown back in the cold, so cold dungeon. "
"I'll help, don't worry. Just give me a moment. " Having reached the shelves under which the mouse had disappeared, she looked at the rows upon rows of identical dark brown jars, not a label in sight. "Well," she muttered, then glimpsed a flash of sleek gray run up along the side of the shelving. An instant later, one particular jar was nudged forward a bare millimeter.
Grabbing it, she twisted the lid open to find several long sticks of cinnamon. A bit old, but they had held their scent. "Thank you," she mouthed.
The mouse twitched its nose at her before disappearing behind the jars.