Well of the Damned

Chapter 48





When Adro and the other battlers reached the lordover’s property and had the horses and carriage seen to by the stable master, they accompanied Feanna to the guesthouse. No one said a word until they were inside. All Adro could think of was the feeling of her lips on his, her arms around his neck, her breasts in his hands. His thoughts were like arrows, focused on their target and striking with deadly accuracy. She was his. All he had to do was form a plan to get her husband out of the way.

“Adro,” Feanna said as she tugged off her gloves and removed her hat and rain cloak, “I want to speak with you privately. The rest of you can wait out here. Do not, under any circumstances, permit any interruption.”

“Your Majesty,” Tennara said, “considering Adro’s behavior at the temple, I think a chaperone is wise.”

“If I want to know what you think, Tennara, I’ll ask.” Feanna went into her guest chamber and beckoned Adro with a finger. The grin on her face was both wicked and lusty. He started to follow, but Tennara gripped his arm.

“Mind yourself,” she whispered fiercely. “You’re going to have to answer to King Gavin.”

He jerked his arm out of her grasp and shut the door in her face. He barred it from the inside. When he turned around, Feanna was sitting on the bed, unlacing her boots.

“My queen,” he said, approaching. “Permit me to assist you.” When she extended her boot towards him, the skirt of her gown fell back to reveal her leg to the lower thigh. He could barely contain himself as he pulled the laces and tugged her boot off.

“You mustn’t tell my husband I let you kiss me,” she said. “Or undress me. Or have your way with me.”

His body reacted to those words in a most profound way. “I wouldn’t tell him,” Adro said as he began to unlace her other boot. His voice came out hoarsely. “He’d have my head. Run away with me, Feanna. We’ll go where he won’t find us.”

She scowled. “And forfeit my wonderful life at the palace, with cooks to feed me and servants to wipe my arse? Though your dimples be charming and your tongue delicious, they aren’t worth giving up my opulent lifestyle, dear Adro.”

“But how can we keep this secret when those wenches out there saw what they saw?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll swear them to secrecy. They’re sworn to obey me. If they dare tell the king, I’ll have you execute them for treason.”

He grinned. “And the king?” Adro pulled her boot off and tossed it away. “If he finds out, he won’t let me do this.” He let his hands explore her shapely calf, wondering whether she’d always shaved her legs or if she’d only started since becoming queen. Her skin was soft and smooth from her ankle to her knee. “Or this.” He bent his head and kissed her ankle, her shin, her calf, her knee.

She giggled and lay back, spreading her arms over the satin bed cover. “Once my prince is born, we won’t need Gavin any longer. I’ll rule as regent until my son comes of age.”

“And what role do you see for me?” Adro asked. He slid one hand up her skirt and trailed it along the inside of her thigh as he positioned himself beside her on the bed.

Feanna’s arms went around his neck and pulled him to her while she hooked one leg around his hip, trapping his hand between their bodies. “You’ll be my personal assistant. And I’ll need a lot of assistance.”

He covered her mouth with his own and let his fingers work their magic.





“Gavin,” Daia said, trying to keep up with his much longer stride, “you’re angry, and rightfully so—”

“You’re damned right I’m angry,” he shouted. He didn’t care who overheard him as he stormed from the stable to the guesthouse. He wasn’t sure who he would lash first — Feanna or the traitor who dared to kiss her. “That bastard will lose his right nut for this.”

“Let me deal with Adro. If you kill him, even accidentally, you’ll have a hard time explaining it.”

“And who the hell would I need to explain myself to? I’m the bloody king, and he attacked my wife.”

“Gavin!” She ran ahead of him and stopped him with a stiff arm against his chest, surprising him once again with her strength. “Stop for just a moment. Listen to what I’m saying. You can’t kill Adro for kissing your wife. That’s not a crime punishable by death.”

“I ain’t planning to kill him.” He pushed her out of his way and kept walking. “Death would be too easy.”

“Please don’t rule by your anger. Let me arrest him and give you time to consider a proper punishment.”

He shot her a hard glare. Though he understood what she was trying to do, he wasn’t interested in approaching the situation with logic and restraint. It wasn’t only Adro’s lapse he needed to address but his own. A husband was supposed to protect his wife. He’d failed the first time, and today, he failed again. As he neared the guesthouse, he heard shouting.

“He’s not in his right mind,” a woman yelled.

“She said no one’s to disturb them,” another hollered.

“Lila, you should be leading us, not her.”

“Yeh, kill her and take her place.”

“You deserve it. We’ll say she—”

Gavin flung the door open and stepped inside. The five battlers were huddled in front of Feanna’s door, faces red and bodies rigid. Lilalian and Tennara turned at the sound of Gavin’s entrance.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked. “Is she in there?”

“Yes, my liege,” Tennara said. “Adro’s with her, and he’s turned knave.”

“So have these three,” Lilalian added.

Tennara and Lilalian stepped aside when he advanced, but the others did not. “She commanded us to let no one enter,” Hennah said. “And that includes you, my liege.” She blocked his path with her hand on the hilt of her sword.

Daia, Tennara and Lilalian drew swords. Mirrah and Anya started to draw as well, but sword tips at their throats stayed their hands. Hennah, Anya and Mirrah backed into the sitting room at sword point.

Gavin tried to open the door to Feanna’s chamber, but it was bolted shut. He pounded on it with the underside of his fist. “Open the door!”

“Gavin? Is that you?” Feanna asked from inside. He heard rustling and footsteps and sounds he couldn’t identify.

“Open this damned door,” he hollered.

To his left, Daia was confiscating weapons, and Tennara was binding wrists.

“Just a moment,” Feanna sang.

“Now!” He squared his shoulder to the door and rammed it. It cracked but held. He hit it twice more before it gave way.

Feanna was in bed, naked, clutching the bed covers to herself. The window was open. “Gavin, I was getting up to answer the door. You didn’t want me to answer it naked, did you?”

“Where is he?” he demanded, advancing on her.

“Where is who?” Her expression was the picture of innocence, but there was something terribly wrong with her. Her presence filled him with repugnance.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” He took her by the arms and looked into her eyes, searching for some indication of wrongdoing. Guilt. Something to explain why her— No. No, it can’t be. Her haze was black and turbulent like that of a beyonder.

He turned away, suddenly sick to his stomach. With his mouth watering, he stumbled outside and vomited into the hedge. Feanna. His dear, lovely Feanna. How could that have happened? Cirang must have fed her the wellspring water, but how had she gotten it? His heart ached as his stomach heaved again. His eyes watered. She was gone. The woman he’d married was as good as dead, and in her place was a cruel, vicious monster who everyone thought was the queen. A monster carrying his unborn son.

How had the water affected the baby in her womb?

“My liege,” someone said, “can I help you?” He looked up into Tennara’s face and saw kindness and concern.

“Find him. And bring me some water, will you?”





Adro hid in the wardrobe, utterly naked, hoping Kinshield would think he’d escaped. He’d opened the window to make it look as if he’d climbed through it. He heard their muffled voices through the wardrobe doors and breathed as quietly as he could. When he heard someone retching — he assumed it was the king — he had to put a fist into his mouth to stifle a laugh. What a milksop.

The doors flew open, and he gasped up into the face of the king’s very angry champion. Her pale-blue eyes were alight with fury. Before he had a chance to concoct an explanation for his presence there, she grabbed him by the hair and pulled him out. The pain in his scalp made his eyes water. “Ow! Let go, wench.”

He ended up falling to his hands and knees on the hard wood floor, along with a few of Feanna’s shoes that had been in the wardrobe with him.

“You have until I count to five to dress,” Daia said, “otherwise, I’m taking you to gaol as you are.”

“Fine,” he said, holding up his hands. “My clothes are under the bed.” He lay on his stomach and reached for the wad of clothing. The first handful was silken — Feanna’s dress — and he pushed it aside. Then he felt the rougher cotton and pulled it out. He rose to his feet, watching Daia’s eyes flick down the length of his body. “Like what you see? I’ve got enough for you, too.” He tried to reach around her waist with one arm, but then pain exploded in his nose, the blow snapping his head back. His hand went to it instinctively and came away bloody. The wetness trickled down over his mouth and chin. “Bloody wench!” He swung at her with a fist and found himself face down on the bed. She pushed his head into the mattress.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she said. “Surrender or die.”

“All right,” he said. “I relent.”

She let him go, and he pushed himself to his feet. Adro glared at her for a moment, calculating the number of steps between him and his sword that he left leaning against the wall behind her. He pulled his trousers on and laced them. “Show her what you got, Fe. Maybe she’s more interested in you than me.” Feanna giggled and lowered the bed covers, revealing her nudity. Daia didn’t look, but he could see she was distracted by the move. He stepped in with a hooking punch that connected with her left cheek and sent her sprawling. He lunged for the sword. From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure engulf the doorway, and then he was flying.

He slammed into the wall with his right side and lost his grip on the sword. Though the sword clattered to the floor, Adro remained stuck to the wall like a fly in honey. He squirmed and wriggled, managing only to shift so that his back was to the wall, but his feet dangled two feet above the floor. The ceiling was only inches from his head.

From this position, he saw Gavin Kinshield, his left arm extended, palm outward. His eyes glowed almost as brilliantly as did the gems in the hilt of his sword. His teeth were gritted, and slowly his fingers closed as if he were squeezing water from a rock. A drop of blood crawled from one nostril down his upper lip, clung there for a moment, and then fell with a light plop to the floor. Another followed, and another, though he seemed not to notice.

An ache started in Adro’s heart and quickly worsened to a sharp pain. He felt its beat weaken and slow. His thoughts dimmed, and a film of white formed over his vision, like a fog growing thicker by the moment. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Distantly, he heard people crying, “Gavin! Stop!” Just when the fog covered everything and the shouts faded to silence, he felt himself falling. His body hit the floor, shocking him awake with a gasp. His sword. It was only inches away. He reached for it, but just as his fingers touched the hilt, it flew towards Gavin’s open hand and slapped into his palm.

Daia fell onto Adro’s back, pressing one knee into his spine. “Lila,” she shouted. “Bring something to tie him with.”

From where he lay on the floor, Adro could feel the hatred emanating from Gavin, though his eyes were no longer glowing. Feanna wrapped the bedsheet around her body and ran to Gavin’s side. “Gavin, thank goodness you’ve come. He forced himself on me. It was awful! I was so frightened.”

“Lying whore!” Adro said. “She’s been giving herself to me since before you were even married.” It was a lie, but Gavin’s magic vision had failed him when he used it on Cirang. It was his word against hers, and she’d turned on him. She deserved it. “The baby in her belly’s not even yours, Kinshield.” Adro laughed. He hadn’t planned to say that, but it was perfect. Even if Kinshield suspected he was lying, it would plant a seed of doubt and worry him for the rest of his days. “That’s my son she carries.”

Lilalian came into the room and tossed Daia a thick leather thong, which she used to bind Adro’s wrists behind his back.

“It’s not true, darling,” Feanna said. “This is your son. Your magic tells you that, doesn’t it?” She clung to Gavin as if he was a raft in a sea of doubt, but he took her by the arms and pushed her away.

Gavin looked down at her with cold eyes. “No, it doesn’t. And your word is worth no more than his.”

“When you see his blond hair, then you’ll know.”

“Shut up, Adro,” Daia said, hauling him to his feet, “or I’ll do it for you.”

He saw doubt flicker in Kinshield’s eyes, and beneath it, fear.





Cirang walked along a gravel path from the stable towards a small, white building with her head bowed, hands clasped behind her, unbound, and her upper arm locked in Brawna’s grip. She had no desire to resist, and in fact welcomed whatever punishment she was due. Her only hope was that King Gavin listened long enough to hear her warning.

As they neared the building, she heard raised voices, though she couldn’t make out the words. Brawna guided her inside, where Hennah, Mirrah and Anya lay on their bellies, bound and gagged. To see those once-noble Viragon Sisters treated like criminals wrenched Cirang’s heart. This, too, was her fault, but if the wellspring water was responsible for turning them into what they were, and it had reversed her own wickedness, then King Gavin could simply turn them back with a drink from the water in her skin.

Lilalian and Tennara stood near an open door. Over their heads, Cirang spotted the king and the jeweled sword on his back. The sword that would soon end her life.

“Move aside,” Brawna said. The swordswomen looked at Cirang first with surprise and then with anger or perhaps hatred, but they stepped aside to let her pass. “King Gavin, I found Cirang.”

Everyone fell silent.

Daia was standing behind a shirtless Adro, holding a knife blade against his neck. Standing beside the king, Queen Feanna was wrapped in a beige sheet from the disheveled bed. King Gavin turned, his eyes dark with fury and his jaw clenched.

“I intended to slay her,” Brawna said, her voice slightly higher than it had been a moment earlier, “but she begged me to give her a chance to speak with you and to answer your questions.”

He cocked his head and regarded Cirang with a curious expression.

“She has nothing to say worth hearing,” Daia said. “Take her outside and kill her. Let her blood spill into the earth. Maybe it’ll kill the weeds.”

“No,” King Gavin said. “I want to hear what you got to say, Cirang. Are you responsible for this?” He put his hand on the back of the queen’s neck and pushed her forward, putting her on display. Feanna’s eyes were dead, as though she were a hollow shell in the shape of a person with nothing inside. No, not nothing. Something... awful, like the beyonders that used to plague the land.

That’s how my eyes must’ve looked before I drank the water.

Cirang swallowed hard. “Yes, my liege. It’s my doing, and I’m so very sorry, but I can fix this. If Queen Feanna drinks—”

Feanna pointed at her. “Traitor! She kidnapped me and tried to feed me to a demon. Now she wants to poison me. I demand her head.”

“Quiet,” King Gavin said. “You can’t fix this, Cirang.” He pulled Feanna back again. “My wife,” he yelled, “is corrupted. My battlers are corrupted. What about my unborn son? Is he corrupted, too?”

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know,” Cirang said.

“Where did you get the water? The guardians said you didn’t take any from the wellspring.”

“There was a leak down the side of the mountain caused by the landslide. I filled two waterskins, and I still have the second full skin. If they drink it again, maybe the effect will be reversed.”

The king motioned toward Adro. “Try it. Give him a cup of it.”

“What? No,” Adro said. “I’m not thirsty.”

Brawna dug into the knapsack for the waterskin, and poured a bit of water into a cup on the side table. She offered it to Adro, but his hands were bound behind his back.

Daia took the cup and held it near his mouth. “Drink it willingly, or drink it by force. Your choice.”

He laughed. “You can’t make me drink it.”

In reply, Daia kicked his knee out from under him and took him to the ground. In seconds, she was sitting on his chest, holding the cup over his mouth. “By force it is.” She pinched his nose shut.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll drink it.” He opened his mouth, and she poured the water in. When he swallowed it and opened again to show her his mouth was empty, she got up and pulled him to his feet.

Several moments went by in silence. Everyone watched Adro expectantly, waiting. Cirang prayed silently for the first time since she’d been the man Sithral Tyr, begging any god that might be listening to please set things right.

Adro jumped suddenly and said, “Boo!” When a couple of them flinched, he cackled gleefully. “Got you.”

“Nothing’s happening,” King Gavin said. “Seems drinking the water again doesn’t fix the problem.” He turned his angry eyes to Cirang. “How’d you do it? How’d you get her to drink it?”

She swallowed. The temptation to bow her head, to hide from what she’d done, was strong, but she came here to own her actions and to face justice. She trembled under the weight of his powerful gaze. “I murdered an acolyte and stole her robe and veil. I slept in her bed in a cellar room, and only went outside dressed as the acolyte Altais.”

Daia’s jaw dropped open. “You were in the temple?” she asked. “I searched it for you.”

Cirang nodded. “I saw you come in, heard you ask about me, and so I slipped out the rear door and waited in the alley until you left.”

“I should’ve been able to see her,” King Gavin said.

“The temple’s protected from magic — even yours,” Queen Feanna said.

“Explain.”

Queen Feanna sighed. “In the olden days, charlatans posing as clerics used magic to forge miracles. Every temple embedded gems in the ceiling and walls to block magic. It’s the only way to know whether Asti-nayas is performing a true miracle.”

“They use magic to block magic?” King Gavin asked.

“That’s why I couldn’t enter with my ring,” Daia said.

“Gems and gilded lines,” Cirang said, “similar to the wards Nilmarions tattoo into our skin to protect us from evil.”

The door opened behind her. “Is it true?” someone asked in a whisper. “Did Brawna get her?”

She turned and met Calinor’s hard blue eyes. Her gaze fell to the ugly scarred skin on his throat, and guilt burned in the pit of her stomach. “Calinor, I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

“What you did to me?” he whispered fiercely. “What about all the children you sold to slavers? What about the lives you ruined?”

“One minute, Calinor. Go on, Cirang,” Daia said. “What happened after you got into the temple?”

“Last night, I poured water from the Well of the Enlightened into the sacramental font. Dressed as the acolyte, I was the one who offered the sacrament to Queen Feanna, four of her guards, and dozens of others throughout the day.”

King Gavin’s entire body went rigid, and he let loose what Cirang could only describe as a roar of anger. “Why did you come here?” he hollered. “To tell me you took my wife from me?” His expression was angry and confused and sad and lost. “To rub my face in it, knowing I would kill you for what you’ve done?”

“No, my liege,” she said. “To warn you. The clerics in the temple have all taken the sacrament as well. People are fighting in the street — even women, while their husbands bet money on the outcome. Unless the font is drained and scrubbed, and the water disposed of, Ambryce is in grave danger. I tried to warn the High Cleric, but he can’t be trusted. You’ve got to stop it.”

“After seeing what the water did to people, why did you drink it?”

“I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I refilled my empty skin with water from the public well, but I didn’t think to rinse out the remaining droplets of wellspring water first.”

Gavin beckoned two of his battlers into the room. “Awright. Tennara, Brawna, lock Adro and the others in the lordover’s gaol for now, and then meet us at the stable. Lila, keep my wife here. Don’t let her leave unless you hear directly from me or Daia. Give her food and water, and nothing more.”

“You can’t keep me locked up like a prisoner,” Feanna said.

“Yes, my liege,” the battlers said, almost in unison. Adro was led out dressed as he was: barefoot and shirtless, hands bound. Daia closed the windows, and Lilalian said she would see that the shutters were nailed shut from the outside. “The door can’t be locked from the outside,” Lilalian said. “How do I keep her in there?”

“I’m the queen! How dare you. I’ll have your heads for this. All of you.”

Daia perked up. “One minute. I have just the thing.” She ran across the yard towards the stable, returning breathless and sprinkled with rain a couple minutes later. She handed King Gavin a wooden gargoyle lock. “I thought it might come in handy someday.”

He gave Daia a crooked smile and shut the door to the bed chamber, leaving Queen Feanna alone inside.

“Gavin, don’t you lock me in here.”

He pressed the gargoyle against the door. Cirang watched its claws flex and its wooden feet fuse with the wood of the door, becoming one. “Don’t try to open the door, Feanna,” he said. “I’ll be back to get you later.”

“Gavin, Savior damn you! Let me— Ouch!” Feanna cried, screeched, and demanded to be released. Her voice faded as they headed to the stable.