TWO
Tzira Castle occupied the rocky heights of the Korban Mountain Range, named for the wizard clan that had held this stretch of the border for the last three hundred years. The clan had been good caretakers for generations, maintaining their section of the mystical barrier that protected the kingdom of Ourania from its neighbor, Zahur, land of the Varil.
They’d known the price of failure all too well. The humans of Zahur had been hunted to the brink of extinction to feed the Varil’s vicious appetites.
Clan Korban had accordingly built Tzira into a sprawling fortress, its black stone seeming to grow from the granite flanks of the mountain, all massive, blocky towers and curving walls, riddled with arrow slits and glowing with torch spells. Even Amaris had to admit the place had a stark kind of beauty.
Too bad the latest Korban wizard had turned to treason.
Amaris strode into the great hall of Tzira Castle, her belly tight with a sickening combination of eagerness and dread.
Eagerness to see Marin again. Dread of what Korban might have done to her while Amaris was gone. If she’s dead, I will blow this castle to fractured stone and pave the road to hell.
She would not survive the effort—Korban was too powerful—but she would make him regret his betrayal.
Heart in her throat, Amaris stalked through the mass of cowed servants and swaggering men-at-arms toward the dais where Korban sprawled on his lord’s seat. He smirked at her as she came, probably because Tannaz strode at her heels, carrying Raniero draped over his shoulder like a slain buck.
“Ama’is!” The little voice piped across the babble of voices in the hall, high and incredibly sweet. Her knees went weak with relief. “Ama’is!” Marin couldn’t yet manage the r in her name.
The child raced out of the crowd as Amaris dropped to her knees and spread her arms. Dark curls flying, big green eyes wide, the little girl flew into her hug with a force that rocked her back on her heels. “Ama’is!” she gasped. “Take me home! I want to see Mama!”
Amaris closed her eyes at the grief that stabbed her as she hugged her little sister close. Marin was too young to grasp death’s finality. “I know, love. I do, too.”
Raniero hit the ground beside her with a thud as Tannaz dumped him from his shoulder. Her father had stripped the warrior of his armor, weapons, and clothing, leaving him naught but his breeches—and the bespelled chains that leached his strength and kept him unconscious.
Tannaz sneered down at them, and Amaris gave him her best bloodthirsty glare in return. Marin burrowed into her shoulder, tiny body quivering. The child had watched him murder their mother but a month past, and she feared him with a black terror.
She might not understand death, but steel and blood were clear enough.
“Poor child.” The voice was beautiful, warm and soft as deep velvet. A big male hand reached down toward Marin’s gleaming curls.
Marin screamed and cowered.
Amaris jerked her sister away and surged to her feet, the child wrapped in her arms. Summoning a shielding spell, she glared at the wizard. “Back. Away.”
“Ahhh, Amaris, my sweet.” Korban spread his arms in the fine robes that draped his lean body in silk. Embroidered runes covered the red fabric in intricate spells of protection and power enhancement. The thread shone bright with gold—except where darkened with the blood of the robes’ tailor, slain to enhance its power. His face was long and pale in the torchlight, a beard darkening his angular cheeks and framing his dissolute mouth. “You wound me.”
“Not yet,” Amaris snarled, “But I will if you do not keep your promise.” She jerked her chin at the unconscious vampire. “I captured Lord Raniero, as you demanded. Now, release us.”
“In time.”
“Now!” Amaris demanded through clenched teeth.
Marin’s little legs curled tighter around her hip. “He thinks ’bout killin’ me to feed that ball of his,” the child whispered fearfully. “I see it in his mind. All the time.”
Korban’s eyes rested on the back of the child’s head, greed in their pale depths. “So much potential power for one so young. And you say she is but three years of age?”
“Her age is of no matter to you, wizard.” Heartily sick of his games, Amaris spun toward the great hall’s double doors. She’d left her horse saddled, Marin’s few things packed in saddlebags. They could make Clefton in three days of hard riding. “We are leaving.”
“No.”
All around the hall, warriors looked up at his tone. Swords left scabbards with a sinister metallic slither.
Amaris stopped short as the point of one fighter’s blade rose toward Marin’s thin back. The child’s arms and legs tightened around her with a strength born of sheer terror. Drawing in power desperately, Amaris reinforced the magical shield around them.
But it could not protect them against every man here.
“I’ve decided I need one further service from my Blood Rose.”
Amaris whirled toward him, hot words on her lips. They died on her tongue at the sight of the crimson globe that floated above his palm. The sheer evil emanating from the thing made her skin crawl in revulsion.
The Blood Orb.
“I have a small problem,” Korban told her absently, his eyes fixed on the Orb with lustful fascination. “I can kill King Ferran’s errand boy, of course.” He jerked his chin at Raniero, sprawled in muscular insensibility on the rush-covered floor. “But when he does not report back to his master, Ferran will consider his suspicions confirmed. And since the king maintains a well-trained and rather impressive army that includes a respectable cadre of wizards—well, I would as soon they did not pay me a visit.”
“What has that to do with me?” Amaris snapped. “I cannot defend you from an army.”
“No, but you can woo yon vampire into a more receptive frame of mind.” He smiled. The expression might have imparted a certain beauty to his triangular, foxlike face, if not for his soulless eyes. “Receptive enough to send a magical message to his master that I am a true and loyal servant. Delay Ferran’s attack just a bit. A month, perhaps even two, while I complete my work.”
“You mean your mad plot to drop the barrier that protects us all from the Varil. Whereupon they’ll roll over us and feast on our bleeding corpses.” She turned to the nearest warrior. “Do you want to fill the belly of one of those monsters? I don’t. One wonders why your master does.”
The warrior winced and looked away.
Korban’s pale face reddened with rage. “The Varil are my allies, bitch. They will give me power beyond your conception—power enough to make me king.” He shot a dark look at the flinching warrior. “And those who are loyal to me will reap the benefits.”
“Oh, aye,” Amaris sneered. “I wager they will—as crows pick their bones for what scraps the Varil leave behind.”
His fingers tightened around the Orb as his free hand lifted, trembling with his fury. Power heated the air around it into a hot red blaze.
Amaris fed more magic into her shields and readied herself to fight, clutching her sister close.
Then the glow faded from Korban’s fingers, and the rage in his eyes drained into calculation. He rolled his shoulders back and lifted his chin. “You will not goad me so easily. You will lie with Raniero, and you will persuade him to cooperate. Or your sister will pay the price.”
“I fear you overestimate my skills. Lord Raniero is famous for his incorruptibility.”
“True. It’s said he’s refused some very impressive bribes.” The Orb’s light flooded Korban’s face in crimson, like a mask of gore. “But none of those bribes included the attentions of a Blood Rose.”
“I am not your whore, Korban.”
“You are whatever we tell you to be, Amaris!” her father snarled.
“Ama’is!” Marin whimpered.
“We frighten the child,” Korban said, his voice gently cruel. “But there is no need. All you must do is spend a little time with Lord Raniero. Look at him.” He turned with a sweeping gesture, directing her attention toward the vampire. Raniero’s profile looked as pure as a deity’s in the light of the torches, his black hair spilling around bare, muscled shoulders. “Such a handsome man. What’s a few nights in his arms? And then I’ll free you, let you take Marin and go. I swear it by the Red God’s blade.”
“Ama’is,” Marin whispered, staring at Korban like a bird gazing at a snake. “He’s gonna feed me to his ball if you don’t.”
She was right. Korban was projecting the image of it into their minds, sharp and vivid as reality:
A knife flashed in the red light of the Orb, and the fantasy Marin screamed. The smell of blood filled the air, and the Orb brightened into a blinding crimson blaze.
The real child quivered against her and began to cry.
“Stop it, curse you!” Amaris spat. “I’ll seduce your vampire for you. Just leave my sister out of your sickening plots.”
Korban smiled, faint and satisfied. “I knew you’d see reason.”
Pleased with his victory, Korban allowed Amaris to put her sister to bed. Usually, he permitted her only brief visits with the child, at the end of which Amaris had to surrender Marin to the nursemaid warden he’d assigned.
Even so, a pair of grim and wary guards followed her up the tower stairs to the small chamber where Marin was kept a hostage. Amaris’s thoughts churned in anguished circles as she climbed, her sister sniffling fitfully in her arms. Though sweaty and tearstained, Marin smelled clean and sweet in the way of little girls. At least that wretched nurse was taking proper care of her.
For the moment.
Korban’s promise to release them was, of course, a blatant lie. No matter what he mouthed, his plans for Marin were obvious. It would take a blood sacrifice of her innocence and magical potential to give the Blood Orb enough power to blow a hole in the kingdom’s mystical barrier.
And Korban was determined to see the Varil invade, the Red God alone knew why.
I should have known Korban would break his promise to free us, Amaris thought as she carried the child up the narrow, winding staircase. But I thought there was a faint possibility he’d keep his word. Now I will have to find some other way to escape.
Fortunately, generations of wizards had spent centuries building and strengthening the Great Barrier, and a spell to unravel it was no easy thing to cast. Korban had yet to puzzle out how to do it, though ’twould seem he was close to his goal. Enough so that he thought he needed to allay Ferran’s suspicions for but a few weeks more.
They reached the top of the stairway, and Amaris paused to let her guards unlock Marin’s door. She carried the child inside.
The nurse looked up from her sewing. At first glance, one might mistake Hetram for a motherly woman in her cheery blue gown, given her ample lap and round, rosy cheeks. But her watery gray eyes were as chilly as a frozen lake, and the line of her mouth was thin and humorless. She had power, too, a sullen snake of magic Amaris could see in her heart, enough that Korban trusted her to control Marin’s burgeoning talent.
It was probably no real challenge. In happier days, Marin had tested their mother’s patience with her mischievous magic. She’d had particular talent with an invisibility spell; she’d loved nothing better than popping out and startling her unsuspecting mother and sister. Now the child’s misery made it hard for her to concentrate enough to work even the simplest magic.
“I’ll take her.” Hetram stood and reached for Marin.
“Nay, I’ll do it.” Amaris shouldered past her toward the little girl’s narrow cot. She undressed her sister, taking pleasure in the homey task of pulling off Marin’s wool kirtle and chemise and slipping a clean white smock over her head. Exhausted by fear and tears, Marin was asleep almost before she finished. Amaris tucked her limp little body into bed, then covered her with the thin blanket she’d been allowed.
Finished, Amaris sat still a moment, brooding as she studied Marin’s pale, delicate features in the candlelight. She looks so much like Mother. Tears welled at the thought, and she quickly swiped her hand across her eyes, lest the nurse see her crying.
I will get her out of here, Mama. Somehow. I will not let that monster use her soul to feed that cursed Orb.
Which meant doing what she’d been doing all along: pretend to cooperate with their captors and watch for an opportunity to take her sister and escape. Pray gods the chance presented itself soon. She was running out of time.
And now she had to romance a vampire.
Something popped, and Amaris looked up, alert. But it was only the fire. Her eyes met the suspicious gaze of Marin’s warden, who sat with a half-darned sock in her wide lap. Amaris pointedly turned her gaze toward the fire and made no move to leave, despite the woman’s evident desire to see the back of her.
Gazing into the leaping flames, Amaris began to plan. She had to buy time, and there was only one way to do it.
She was going to have to make love to the vampire.