That was all he’d ever been to anyone. A stupid pawn.
Even Elf, really. While he liked to pretend that his sister had loved him, in his more melancholic moments he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps she was no less self-serving than everyone else he’d known. Maybe even she’d seen him as nothing more than her mindless tool to be manipulated at her whims.
Just a rabid attack dog Elf had set loose on those she didn’t like.
In her meaner moments, it had been something Edyth had frequently taunted him with when they were children. A vicious, cold insult she’d known wounded him to the core of his worthless, black soul.
And Vine. She’d taken a sick, vicious pleasure in telling him that he had no other use in the world.
You’re nothing, Duel. Just a cold killer incapable of feeling anything more than the sword you hold. The only warmth you know is the blood you spill. Face it, they might proclaim you a king, but at the end of the day, you’re nothing more than a servant to the blood-hunger inside you. A mindless animal forever seeking a comfort you were never born to know. You trust no one. Not even yourself.
Throwing his head back, Devyl let loose a cry of bitter agony and grief. A cry born of utter loneliness as he drank from the demonic blood he’d spilled.
Just once in his life he wanted to know what it felt like to be cherished. To be desired. To be touched by a tender hand. Not because he was a weapon or tool.
Because he was loved.
You’re still a futtocking idiot.
And he was old enough to know better. Love was for women and children.
He was a creature of vengeance and hatred. It was all he’d ever been, and all he’d ever be. Vine was right. Not even friendship came to the likes of him.
I am the Devyl’s Bane.
There was no need to fight destiny, because sooner or later that bitch always came and took whatever she wanted. And his destiny was darkness and pain.
Accept what you are and be done with it.
There was no need to fight destiny. Not when he was the hand it’d chosen to be its executioner.
*???*???*
“Are you all right, child?”
Cameron jumped at the soft tone of Marcelina’s voice as she walked up behind her in the galley. “Sorry. Aye.” She pursed her lips and scowled. “Sort of.” Blinking, she met Mara’s gaze. “Are you all right, mum?”
Mara pulled a cup from the shelf where Cameron had taken one down just a moment before. “Like you, I’m a bit shaken by the day’s occurrences. Not used to dealing with demonic children. There’s something profoundly wrong with that entire concept.”
“Aye, indeed. Says much for what we’re up against that they’d stoop so low.” She handed Mara the rum. “Your sister, is it?”
She nodded. “Not as innocent as I wanted to think.” Mara took a drink, wishing she could stop remembering a few disturbing truths that she’d been trying her best to keep buried. Yet in spite of her best efforts, they wouldn’t stay chained.
Rat bastard things …
“What devil lives in that grimace? And don’t be saying the captain. I’m beginning to know ye better, me lady.”
Mara snorted at the lass, who was a bit too astute for her own good. “I’m just thinking … there’s a disease among my people that comes from the misuse of our magick. One that causes our hearts to shrivel and petrify into a hard stone.”
With color fading from her cheeks, Cameron gasped. “You’re serious?”
She nodded grimly. “We call it Heart-rot or Wintering. It’s where we begin to decay from the inside out. Like what you saw with Mona. We turn pale and our blood darkens. Those of us who are strongest can mask the disease longer than those who are weaker, but sooner or later, it will show itself. And when it does, it turns us into monsters who live on the pain and blood of others.”
“Is there a treatment for it?”
Shaking her head, Mara winced at the brutality of the plaguelike illness. Though it wasn’t common among her people anymore, she’d seen more than enough of the illness in her time to be afraid of contracting it, and to want nothing to do with any manner of Wintering.
“Because the heart no longer beats on its own, it causes a painful hunger inside the sufferer for fresh blood, to the point they will hunt others for it. Tear them apart and devour them whole to get what they need. Even their own children aren’t safe around them. No one is. ’Tis said when it gets bad enough, they’ll even gnaw on bones like rabid rats, trying to get every last bit of blood they can out of the very marrow of them.”
“It sounds awful.”
“You’ve no idea.” Anger brought a bitter taste to her mouth as she silently seethed. “Worse? It was Du’s race who first cursed us with it. His own grandmother, Kara, sentenced her stepmother Heier for killing Du’s grandfather after they were married. A dark Disir goddess, Kara gave this disease to my people for what was done to hers, and we returned the favor to them with our own version of a similar illness. First Kara was stricken with it, then her son, and finally Du himself came down with it.”
Cameron gasped as she realized what that meant and why Du was so very evil. “If there’s no treatment, can it ever be healed?”
Again, she shook her head. “It’s what causes his eyes to turn red whenever he becomes angry. What makes him an unreasonable beast. It’s a credit to him that he contains his madness as well as he does. Most are driven so insane by it that they have to be put down like rabid animals.”
“‘Most’ implies that some escape.”
Mara sighed as she poured more drink. “There are legends—silly ones, of course—that claim they can be saved by true love’s kiss. Or the hand of one who can see past the beast to love them in spite of their cruelty. But that’s such hokum as to be ridiculous.”
“You don’t believe in love?”
How could she? She’d never seen it in her extremely long life. And she’d seen some rather miraculous things. But never love. Never anything close to what the poets described in their ridiculous songs. “Do you, Miss Jack?”
“Aye. Me brother loves his Lettice. It’s why I think we’ll find him. He won’t leave her. Not without a bitter fight.”
“Then they are lucky, indeed.”
Cameron sipped at her rum. “So you’ve never been in love, then?”
She shook her head. “My people didn’t believe in it. Not the way humans do. And the gods know Du’s definitely didn’t. He’d laugh like a madman if you ever so much as hinted at it. They only believed in duty, honor, and family.”
“You mock that?”
“’Tis not mockery you detect in my tone. Just pity. No matter how noble something is as a concept, when taken to extremes, anything can become corrupted and used as a vehicle for evil.”
“So you think the captain is beyond all redemption?”
Mara paused at the question. A few months back, she’d have said yes unequivocally.