The Seeker Ch. 05

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When his largest, meanest looking warrior had barreled through the door, face drained of color, and had told him of what Laiyla had done and said, he had almost roared with laughter. Amlen gaped at him in horror. His hands still shook from the awful feeling of having been under her complete control. He had been ready to die at nothing more than her word. The prince was a madman to have taken such a creature as his mate.

Still chuckling, Venlen dismissed his guard and strode out of the small room to the bedroom door. He found Laiyla crouching under the window, her lithe body ready to spring.

When she saw it was him, she straightened and calmed. His eyes grazed over her, and he found himself annoyed that she had discarded the blue gown he had chosen for her and instead wore a pair of supple leather pants and a loose white tunic.

"I take it you and Amlen didn't get along well?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

She crossed her arms angrily, her feminine growl permeating her words. "Next time you send someone to collect me, reisnaig, know that I will send them back to you with their mind in pieces."

He smirked, unable to suppress the sense of pride he felt at her ferocity and brazenness. Only he was allowed to come near his little one. No one else was acceptable to her. "Fine. But you will come to me now. We are leaving.

Her vibrant green eyes narrowed. "What about Sonya?"

"Sonya has already left with the main battalion. We will meet up with them once we are close enough to the city." He let his eyes roam the small curves of her body, returned now that her appetite was improving, and her health was restored. The healer had done well. He prayed she would continue to improve on the journey, would not slide back into the feverish, sickly Fae he had held next to him for what seemed like months.

She stepped forward, her glare still suspicious as she considered his outstretched hand. "Sonya..." she started.

"...Will be safe and waiting for you at the other end," he finished, and gestured her forward with his palm. "Come to me, keonai mouv. We need to leave."

There was a moment of hesitation before she walked the rest of the way toward him. When his hand closed over hers, her eyes widened, and her face shot up to look at him. Fear clouded her stunning eyes. "Laiyla? What's wrong?"

She shook her head as if to clear it, a shiver running down her spine. "Nothing. Lead the way, reisnaig."

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Laiyla slept curled next to the fire bench beside him. It would take two more weeks for them to reach the border of the city, the border that separated this world from his... theirs... and that would return her rightfully home.

He gazed over her body, so much smaller than his, so much ferocity and willpower in such a tiny vessel. His dominance over her was absolute. He had full access to her in every way, even the ability to change her thoughts. Yet still she denied him the affection she should have displayed for him by now. A chill crept over his body at the thought of the horror he had felt from her end of the bond at his recent actions. Despite all his power over her, despite the fact that he owned her in every sense, she could not accept that he had acted as he had only to keep her safe.

He reached down and swept his fingers over her forehead, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. She was so beautiful in sleep, the way her face relaxed and was comforted under his touch, a slight smile curling her lips. Every day she warred with herself against her feelings for him. Every day she slowly lost ground. She would come to love him, would eventually give herself over to him completely, and he would finally own all of her, broken heart and all.

"Braenn mael laevvi, keonai mouv."

Come back to me, little one.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked over at him, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back like a graceful cat. Her dark hair once again fell over her eyes.

"It is time we talked."

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She sipped at the tonic the healer had put into her hands when Venlen had ordered the camp to pack up for another day's ride. It had been a week on the road, according to Venlen, since it was impossible to tell with how much she was forced to sleep. Time had closed her wounds and given back some of her strength. After a lunch of roasted rabbit, hunted by Venlen himself, and dried nuts and berries, they had continued moving. Only this time, Venlen had allowed her to walk beside the horses with him. They moved slow, and although her sore muscles still gave her resistance, it was the happiest she had ever been since being taken from her forest.

The ground bloomed under her with magnificent glowing green branches. She spoke to the trees as they passed, grateful to learn that no dark creatures yet haunted this part of the wood.

Venlen walked silently beside her, stealing quick, concerned glances at her often, as if worried she may fall over at any moment. He was giving her time before they spoke, before he told her what lay ahead of her, and the truth of who he was. She had a nagging feeling that it might be better if she had never asked. Finally, he spoke, the deep rumble of his voice infuriating her with the way it made her body sing back to him with pleasure. Every day it was becoming harder for her to hate him. Every day she clung tighter to her memories of the true Venlen.

"We are approaching the city in which you will reside with me for some time. The bond makes it... difficult for me to part from you for long. I travel often, and there will be times when your presence at my side will be required. However, you will have every comfort when we arrive at the city. You will know a life of luxury; you will want for nothing."

She was silent, bringing the tonic to her lips as she gazed out at the forest they passed. If not for the sense of unease he felt in her, he would have thought she did not hear him.

"I am returning you to the place where you were born," he said softly. She stiffened and stopped walking. Slowly, he turned back to face her. "Eila told you of what became of your true family," he continued. It was impossible that he should know that. She understood what he was about to say and interrupted him when he began to speak again.

"Prince Venlen. It was your family who overthrew mine. You helped butcher my mother, my siblings. How small was the youngest you hung from the castle gates?" she said angrily, her body rigid with slow building rage as she let the implications of his confession wash over her. "Did you string up a toy animal by her side, to keep her company and comfort her in her last moments?"

He sighed, his shoulders dropping just barely. The fact that she had left out concern for her father and grandmother did not escape him. "I was not present when your family was killed," he said, as if testing the words out on his tongue, wanting to see if they tasted right. "But I would not have hesitated to do the job myself. It was necessary. Your father's evil plagued the land for a generation. It took my brother years to undo the damage, and even now, the people still suffer from some of the terrible things he did."

"And what part of those evils was my mother responsible for?" she asked, her voice rising, her hands curling into fists. "What evils did my siblings spread across the land?"

"Calm yourself," he demanded, his voice not quite a shout but loud enough to silence her. "What's done is done. The family could not have been allowed to survive. We could not risk the chance of someone rising up, trying to reclaim the throne."

"And what about me?" she asked, her voice too quiet, her tone challenging. "Now that you have found me, will my body hang from the gates as well?"

"I would never let that happen," he growled, the anger in his voice giving her pause. "You are mine now, you are under my care and protection. No one will ever so much raise a finger to harm you. Besides," he continued, his voice gradually losing some of its low threat. "Seeker blood runs through your veins. Your grandmother gave herself over to darkness, but there is only good in you." Here, his voice was filled with something she could have sworn was pride. "You are the Last Seeker. Killing you would be a terrible deed, a mistake we would not dare to make."

She was quiet for some time as she digested this information. She listened to the clomping of the walking horses, the clink of metal of the weapons that hung on the belts of the many soldiers who surrounded them. "Why does the darkness follow you?" she asked finally.

He looked up at the night sky, making her wait before he answered. "Lystra, the Seeker before you, your grandmother, was... difficult to catch up with. She escaped the city during the invasion and fought against us from the shadows from some time. When we caught up with her..." his voice trailed off, and she waited for him to continue. "A cornered animal will strike out without regard to their own safety. As she faced death, Lystra struck out at me, condemning me in her anger and desperation. She tied me and my army to the moon," he said, resignation and lingering rage tainting his words. "I am called the Dark Prince, my army the Army of Night. I have not seen daylight since," he finished softly, sadly almost.

No recognition flared within her. Word of the happenings in her birthplace were limited to what Eila told her, and she had never spoken of this man or his army. Still, understanding flooded her as she listened to him describe the curse that was placed on him. A prince, tied to the moon. The Moon is rising, Eila had told her, the voices had whispered to her.

What a ridiculous title, she thought.

Her thoughts racing, she continued talking. "You take me to your brother now," she said, a statement instead of a question. "You would have me act as Lystra did, securing his place on the throne, drawing out and destroying his enemies and those who would act against him."

"No," he said sharply. "You are not your grandmother. I do not think you are even capable of doing the things she did at your father's side. Your place will be by my side. Soon we will marry, and you will give me children. I will not expose you to the evils that seduced Lystra."

She balked. Marry? Children? The man truly was delusional if he thought she would allow that to happen. To her horror, she found herself considering his words, imagining what their children would look like, wondering if they would carry the Seeker blood as she did.

"What, no snide remarks? No hateful words to me?" He sneered at her, but it was more playful than cruel. She did not smile. You asked for it, she thought, bracing herself for his inevitably violent reaction to what she was about to say.

"Despite your twistedly sweet words, Venlen, I consider you my enemy. Being bound to you, against my will," she said, her teeth gritted, "will never change that. You are also insane to think I will submit to domestication, but I knew this about you already. Luxuries and pretty things don't interest me. If you keep me from my forest, I will eventually give you more trouble than I am worth to you."

She took a deep breath and continued, noting the way his eyes narrowed into an intimidating gaze. But she would not be intimidated, not this time.

"I knew only my mother, and not well. But I loved her, and despite whatever tangled way you rationalize what you and your family did, she did not deserve to die. Neither did her children, or the rest of the innocent people you must have killed in your conquest for power. Eila told me it was not just an overthrow, it was a war. How many died for the pretty things you have now? Thousands? Tens of thousands?

"You say such sweet nothings, Venlen. They mean nothing to me. Your fucked-up actions mean far more, and they tell the true story of your depravity. Before I ever laid eyes on you I knew that you would be the end of me. You're a dangerous man, reisnaig, and you want me curled at your feet, purring like a kitten, but you forget yourself, and you forget me. I've made this offer once before, and I make it again. Kill me now, or I swear to you, I will kill you and --"

With a vicious growl, Venlen's patience with her lecture was run out and her back was slammed into the ground below her. He pinned her down with his weight, his dark eyes swirling with pure violence and aggression. His massive hand curled around her exposed throat, his thumb pressing into the hollow of her neck as he blanched her honeyed skin.

"You truly wish for death, Laiyla? You threaten me, after all I have done? After everything I have given you?" His voice was that deadly calm, churning with threat. His grip on her throat tightened, and she gaped, her lungs trying to suck in air that wasn't there. She thrashed under his grip, relishing the feel of physical contact that wasn't wrapped up in thick layers of sexual conquest. He could have her life if he wanted it. Right now, she was free of her own impulses, and she reveled in the clarity of the moment.

"You think I am cruel, keonai mouv, that I torment you. Know this: You have no fucking idea what torment under my hand feels like. But I will gladly enlighten you." His thick fingers continued to push into the softness of her neck. She bared her teeth at him in a silent, breathless snarl.

"Your highness," a deep voice rumbled above them. Neither of them broke the stare that held them locked together to look up at the figure standing over them. Her vision swam as his hand continued crushing her, but still she refused to look away from those lavender flecked eyes.

"Prince Venlen." The title was spoken softer, but with more urgency. Venlen glared down at her for a moment longer, his dark eyes searching her face for the deception he hoped was behind her look of hatred. Finding nothing but pure malice and resentment, he drew back his hand as if what he had been touching had disgusted him. She clutched her throat, gasping and gagging. The world swam and spun in front of her eyes. "What is it?" he barked at the man who had interrupted them.

"Your attention is needed at the front, sir. There has been a... development," he said, casting a wary glance at Laiyla.

Venlen cast one last dark glance back at Laiyla before turning his back on her. Without another word, he was gone, the blossoming bruises on her neck the only sign that anything had happened between them. Her clothes remained untorn and intact; her dignity, spared. The men around her walked on without so much as a glance down at her.

With a speed that could not have been a coincidence, the healer was upon her, worrying his hands over wounds both young and new as he pressed her refilled glass back into her hands, another tonic with a slightly different smell. They were off the side of the road, sitting against the thick trunk of a maple tree. She pressed her hand to it, asking for comfort and healing. Sensing her need and her worthiness, tendrils of green light funneled from the surrounding trees into the one she touched, then wound its way through her outstretched palm and into her aching body.

Eila's pendant responded to the new energy swirling through her, pulsating with a pearlescent glow. With a synergism of reciprocal lifeforce, the bright green glow from the tree and the pearlescent white glow from the necklace twisted in breathtaking intimacy like a lovers' dance, finally settling over her body and into her veins with a magnetic calm. She felt that part of herself, the part of herself she had protected and kept safe from the reisnaig respond in kind. Invigorated, renewed, she opened her eyes to see the healer gaping down at her, a look of wonderment and fear on a face slack with shock. Her aches and pains were gone. When she looked down, she saw her bruises had disappeared, the cuts fully healed. She smiled warmly.

A sound came from the forest behind them. Rustling brush, a scampering of a large animal, a low growl. They both turned toward it, Laiyla's already heightened senses narrowing on the source of the sound. They were alone, the rest of the caravan having moved along the road, slowly but with growing distance. Moonlight cast an ethereal glow on the forest around them. She stilled and focused, ready to strike. With a sigh of relief, she relaxed and grinned widely, jumping to her feet. "Syrus!"

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"How many men lost?" His temper flaring, outrage sweating from every pore, the man in front of him cowering as he delivered the news.

"S-sir, the initial count is eighty-four," the man said, shoving his fist into his side to hide his shaking.

Venlen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Initial count?"

"Yes sir. That is... uh... There are..." His eyes darted back and forth, and he swallowed hard. "Extra body parts, your highness."

Venlen shut his eyes against the dancing torchlight. His men gathered around him in a loose circle, murmurs and whispers spreading through the crowd of battle-tested warriors. Fear of mortal men this was not; The dark creatures had returned, and this time, they had struck.

His eyes snapped open, a rapid series of decisions flashing through his mind. "Gather my four fastest riders. Send them ahead; warn the city. Patrols will be doubled. I want the bodies of the slain beasts brought to me for my inspection. Rafe!" he barked, and another man appeared by his side in an instant. "Bring me the healer. He may be able to uncover any weak areas or things of note." Rafe nodded once and ran off into the crowd. "Yessin!" A taller man, half of his face mutilated by burn scars, stood at attention before him. "Ride to the main body, tell them to fall back and wait for us to catch up." Venlen spun without waiting for an answer. "Amlen!" The taller of the two giants among his ranks stalked toward him, massive arms crossed in front of him. "I want ten men posted around Laiyla at all times. Pick out the strongest." He paused as Amlen bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Venlen strained his neck as he looked over the crowd of men growing restless and irritable with the news of their slain brothers. "Amlen." The dark ripple of his voice brought quiet to the men around him. "Where is Laiyla?"

Men began looking around, eyes darting back and forth as they raised eyebrows at their neighbors in question. No one spoke. She was not among the caravan. Venlen cursed, gave his men an order, and mounted the chestnut giant that had lead him into battles for decades. The horse snorted and stomped in anticipation. Amlen looked up at his prince, his face stricken as he handed him the reins.

Venlen glared down at his personal guard, disappointment and fury distorting his face. "One way or another, Amlen, she will be brought back to me. You should pray that she is alive and well."

His heart racing, his gut sick with dread and worry, he urged his horse into a gallop, racing into the night.