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The Oracle’s Queen. Lynn Flewelling
Читать онлайн.Название The Oracle’s Queen
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007404599
Автор произведения Lynn Flewelling
Жанр Эзотерика
Издательство HarperCollins
When the meal was over she was left to herself in the tower again, until nightfall. Tomara had found oils and perfume somewhere in this awful place. She prepared Nalia for her marriage bed, then slipped away.
Nalia lay rigid as a corpse. She had no illusions and knew her duty. When the door opened at last, however, it was not Korin but Niryn who entered and came to stand over her bed.
“You!” she hissed, shrinking back against the bolsters. “You viper! You betrayer!”
Niryn smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Now, now. Is that any way to speak to your benefactor, my dear?”
“Benefactor? How can you say that? If I had a dagger I would plunge it into your heart, so that you might feel a fraction of the pain you’ve caused me!”
His red beard caught the candle’s glow as he shook his head. There was a time when she’d found that color beautiful. “I saved your life, Nalia, when you would have died in the king’s purges. Your mother and all her kin were killed, but I protected and nurtured you, and now I’ve seen you made Consort. Your children will rule Skala. How is that a betrayal?”
“I loved you! I trusted you! How could you let me think you were my lover when you never meant to keep me?” She was crying, and hated herself for her weakness.
Niryn reached out and caught one of her tears with a fingertip. He held it up to the candlelight, admiring it like a rare jewel. “I must confess a bit of weakness on my part. You were such a dear, affectionate little thing. If Korin had found himself a suitable bride, who knows? I might even have kept you for myself.”
Once again, anger burned away the tears. “You dare speak of me as if I’m some hound or horse you acquired! Is that really all I was to you?”
“No, Nalia.” His voice was tender as he leaned forward and cupped her cheek, and in spite of herself, she leaned a little into that familiar caress. “You are the future, my dear little bird. Mine. Skala’s. Through you, with Korin’s seed, I will bring peace and order back to the world.”
Nalia stared at him in disbelief as he rose to go. “And you knew all this, when you found me orphaned as a babe? How?”
Niryn smiled, and something in it chilled her heart. “I am a great wizard, my dear, and touched by the gods. I was shown this many times, in visions. It is your fate, your destiny.”
“A wizard!” she threw after him as he went to the door. “Tell me, was it you who bespelled me and made me a virgin again?”
This time his smile was answer enough.
A little while later Korin came to her, stinking of wine the way he had that first night, but clean this time. He stripped naked without so much as looking at her, revealing a fine young body but a lagging arousal. He hesitated by the bed, then blew out the candle and climbed on top of her between the sheets. He didn’t even bother to kiss her before pulling up her nightdress and rubbing his soft member between her legs to make himself hard. He found her breasts and stroked them, then fumbled between her legs, trying clumsily to pleasure her a little and get her ready.
Nalia was grateful for the darkness, so that her new husband would not see the shamed, angry tears streaming down her cheeks. She bit her lip and held her breath, not wanting to betray herself as she resisted memories of sweeter lovemaking, now tainted forever.
Nalia cried out when her false maidenhead was torn, but she doubted he noticed or cared. Her new husband seemed in a greater hurry than she was herself to be done with the act, and when he spewed inside her, it was with another woman’s name on his lips: Aliya. She thought he might be weeping when it was over, but he’d rolled off and left her before she could be certain.
And so ended the wedding night of the Consort of Skala.
The memory still burned her with shame and anger but Nalia could take comfort in the fact that so far, she had refused her captors the one thing they wanted from her. Her moon blood had come and gone. Her womb remained empty.
Despite her best intentions, Tamír lost hope of leaving for Atyion anytime soon. There was still too much to do in Ero.
The sporadic spring rains held on. The footpaths between rows of hastily built shacks and tents were often more channels than byways. There’d been no time to establish wards. Nobles unlucky enough to have no estate to retreat to found themselves cheek by jowl with tradesmen’s families or half-starved beggars who’d found their way here, hoping for the queen’s generosity.
Tamír was on her feet or in the saddle from dawn until dusk, when she wasn’t holding court. Meals were often a bit of bread and meat passed to her while she worked.
The conditions had one advantage; so far, no one had tried to make her wear a dress outside of Illardi’s house. Out here she was free to stride around in boots and breeches.
The first supplies from Atyion arrived at last, in a caravan led by Lady Syra, whom Lytia had appointed as her understeward.
Tamír rode out to meet her as the caravan reached the settlement.
“Highness!” Syra curtsied, then presented her with the manifest. “I’ve brought canvas, blankets, ale, flour, salted mutton, dried fish, cheese, dry beans, firewood, and herbs for healing. More is on the way. Lady Lytia has organized temporary accommodations in the town and castle yards for those you send for shelter there.”
“Thank you. I knew she’d arrange things properly.” Tamír took a sealed document from the sleeve of her tunic and handed it to her. “I’m deeding the hundred acres of fallow ground between the north wall and the sea for an expansion of the town. People can build and settle there, and pay rent to the castle. See that she gets this.”
“I will, Highness. But does this mean you’ve decided not to rebuild Ero?”
“The drysians say the wells and earth are too badly tainted. It will take more than a year to clear. And the priests all claim it’s cursed ground. I’m being advised to burn what’s left, to purify the land. Skala must have a new capital, a stronger one. For now, it will be Atyion.”
“Now if we could just make you go there,” muttered Ki, and some of the other Companions chuckled.
A crowd was already gathering as word of supplies spread among the shacks. Tamír saw gratitude in the faces of some, but also greed, anger, impatience, and despair. There were still nearly eight thousand of them on the plain, not counting the soldiers, and there had been too many incidents of violence. Her bailiffs came before her daily to present reports of theft, rapes, and other crimes. The laws were still in force and she’d ordered more hangings than she cared to think about, but it was an impossible situation.
And this was only a temporary respite, she reminded herself. What winter crops had escaped the blight would soon be rotting in the fields if they weren’t gathered, and most of the spring crops had not been sown. By winter they must all have a harvest and a proper roof over their heads or more would perish.
Exhausting as this all was, Tamír was glad to be so busy all day long. It gave her an excuse to avoid the wizards and kept her mind off what the nights held.
Brother left her alone by day, but in the darkness the angry spirit invaded her room or her dreams, demanding justice.
To make matters worse, after a few awkward nights together with little sleep for either of them, Ki had taken to sleeping in the dressing room of her bedchamber. He’d said nothing, just quietly made the change. Now and then he also asked leave to go riding on his own after the evening meal. He’d never needed to be apart from her before. She wondered if he was looking for a girl—a real girl, she amended bitterly—to tumble.
Ki