Seething chaos reigned in the courtyard. Overhead the dark clouds were heaving, low and angry over the castle, the hot wind swirling so fiercely it made it difficult to see. Flakes of black ash floated on the wind, forked red lightnings seared across the bruised undersides of the clouds, the stones lit up by lurid smears of red. The mass of the clouds grew thicker around the east tower, wisps of black shroud pulled down from the mass of the storm, and swirling around the tower's top like it was the center of a whirlpool in the sky. And at the center of it all, the center of the wind, the boiling clouds, the falling ash, was Lady Delilah. I could hear the terrible power of her voice. The wind was heavy with it, not carrying it, but actually made by it, controlled by it
Into this howling darkness we were plunged. Silas's minions no longer intent on feasting, they had one mission: to kill. They bounded across the stones, pouncing on their victims from behind, clinging to their shoulders like misshapen leeches, wrestling them to the ground. Heedless of injury, they flung themselves into danger, violently tearing at anything that moved.
I was blindly jostled by man and beast alike, the stifling air reeked of blood and sweat, the sky a heaving tumult of thunder and destruction. Blood ran between the paving stones, and streaked against my face. The crimson stain was on my hands, in my shirt, in my hair, and in the confusion I couldn't have told if it was mine, or another's. Every breath was like fire in my lungs, searing and all consuming.
To my left I saw a blur of motion, and danced out of the way, a blade slicing across my arm. Burning pain blossomed in my shoulder, throbbing heat pouring through me. I gripped the wound with one hand, feeling hot runny blood seeping through my fingers, and caught my attacker's second blow with the edge of my blade.
A shuddering explosion rocked the stones, the courtyard heaving with the sound, and a sphere of black flames rippled out from the wall, sending out a shockwave of scorching cold. The men caught in the flames doubled over, trying to keep their footing, before they were all reduced to dust, their withered forms crumbling under the force of the explosion. Then the black fire swirled and vanished, leaving the castle's white stones covered in spidery frost.
I reeled as the stones shook under me, turning my head to look at the explosion. Lord Briarwood, his cloak flung aside, the darkness of his blade like a gaping hole of nothingness in the shadows of the storm, was locked in desperate combat with a slim woman with wild blonde hair. She brought her hands up, her fingers splayed stiff in front of her, and a crackling line of blue white lightning seared across the stones, striking Lord Briarwood and scorching everyone close to him.
Blazing white light filled the courtyard, throwing Silas's stark black shadow across the stones, and through the heaving chaos I saw the danger. A sword cut across my back, as I ripped myself away from my enemy, careless of the throbbing angry pain across my shoulders. Urged on by desperate fire, I mounted the steps to the wall top, sprinting across the stones, bursting through the door into the winding stair of the east tower.
Geru's footsteps disappeared ahead of me, and I leapt after him. He knew I was behind him and sped upwards, his roar of desperation echoing around the inside of the tower, both of us racing up the tower steps. I could hear him breathing raggedly as he charged up the slope, his footsteps labored, and smears of blood on the wall where he supported himself with a hand. I was gaining on him. A shattering crash, and we had reached the roof, where we both stumbled.
The wind howled over the sound of Lady Briarwood's voice, blocking all other sound. Darkness swirled around us, thick and heavy, weaving us into the hissing shadows of night. Scorching heat danced in the air, burning in my eyes and nose, making the air a poison to breathe. Lady Briarwood was still sitting in the exact same attitude on the ground, hunched like a greedy child over the dark orb. It was steaming, dark black smoke pouring down its sides, creeping across the stones.
Geru, regaining his balance, turned and met me. My sword shuddered against his, and I threw my whole weight into my blow, but he forced me back, my feet sliding across the stones. Here I found my opportunity, dancing forward, and drawing a swift stroke across his midsection. Before I could slither out of reach a stab of searing pain overwhelmed me, Geru's blade sinking into my side, and I let out a gasp, stumbling back as he ripped his sword away. The second strike cut upwards across my ribcage, drawing a line of hot pain across my chest and right shoulder. He struck at me again, but this time his blade missed, hissing past my cheek, the breath of it whispering against my skin.
Lady Briarwood suddenly arched her back, flinging her head up to the sky, and breathing in. The world heaved around us, Geru barely keeping his feet, and I staggered to my hands and knees, my mind reeling. It felt like all the air was ripped from my lungs, was ripped from the wind, was ripped from the valley. There was no air anywhere. The darkness was all pulled inwards, drawing together, the power in the air growing so tense it would shatter, then a wave of heat burst outward, flinging Geru on his back at the edge of the circle.
Throwing her arms out Lady Delilah released a cry of exultant triumph, glorying in the power that coursed through her body. I screamed, and covered my ears. Overhead the dark clouds were sucked downwards, darkness swirling around her.
Gracefully Delilah rose to her feet, her form towering over us, filling all my vision. She seemed grown immeasurably tall, powerful beyond the reach of my thought. Power, like I had never felt before, throbbed in the air around her, making all the little hairs on my arms stand up.
She looked over at Geru, dark energy swirling around her, and her eyes were completely black, their entire surface covered in inky darkness. Hand tensed so that every tendon stood out taught against her skin, she pointed at him, that Other whispering in her voice. Geru stood up, blood soaking into his shirt where I had struck him.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and I looked up, gazing fearfully at the vast expanse of darkness that loomed over the valley. The clouds heaved, writhing like a sickened animal, and a spot of livid red bloomed overhead. A ball of fire tore through the middle of the roiling murk, striking into the side of the tower with a burst of raging heat, and Geru was flung over the edge of the tower. His figure, impossibly small and dark in the blackness of the storm, fell like a small aimless stone, plummeting into blackness and obscurity. I screamed, struggling to my feet, and running to the edge of the tower.
Hardly giving Geru's death a second glance, Lady Briarwood turned and looked down. Stretched out below us was the city of Whitestone, its buildings lining the twisting streets, the Lady's Chamber standing out over the rest. The sky heaved, the clouds torn apart as Lady Briarwood lifted her arms, and their bruised twisted forms unleashed a torrent of hellfire over the city. Like something from a nightmare, drawing streaks of fire and smoke across the sky. Flames danced, the city buildings crumpling like a collection of children's toys, and I heard a bell begin to ring urgently, its desperate sound echoing over the valley.
My city...My people...My Home...
Then Delilah staggered, and my attention instantly fastened on her, concern blooming in stomach. With a crack of thunder the spell broke, and she fell. Dark energy ripped from her chest, and the Orb pulled the energy from her body back into itself, becoming once more just an inert featureless orb of black crystal.
I leapt across the stones to her side, the flames, the screams, Geru, Whitestone, all vanishing from my thoughts. My mind, my whole purpose was bent on Delilah Briarwood. Flinging myself to my knees at her side, I desperately gathered her into my lap, my breath ragged. I crouched over her, listening, begging, pleading, for a breath. The faintest whisper stirred my hair, and I burst into tears, relief crushing me.
I gathered her to me, touching her face, brushing aside her hair. The faint whisper stirred against my cheek, and I felt it with my fingers, longing for one more proof, and yet more, and yet more. Gently I wrapped my arms around her, laying my cheek against hers.
"I've got you...You're safe, I'm right here. You can rest, its all over now...Rest...just rest..."
When Silas came all was dark, and had been for a long time. The heavy smog hung overhead like a thick blanket stretching from one end of the mountains to the other, muffling the air, deadening sound. Under the blanket, the roof of cloud and smoke was lit up by lurid smears of red, the burning flames of the city casting dark shadows on the darker night. A black greasy ash was drifting from the sky, sprinkling over the stones like blackened snow, and sticking to your skin.
Amidst the deepening shadows I sat, holding Delilah protectively in my lap, gazing numbly up at the bleared sky with its red stain. We were cut off from civilization and all living things. Floating on a pinnacle of rock in a sea of isolation, and we sat enshrouded in solitude.
Full of concerned solicitation I watched Lady Briarwood, almost painfully attentive to her every breath. She seemed alive, but very weak, her breathing so faint I could hardly feel it. When I rubbed her hands they were deathly cold, her skin frighteningly pale, and her fingers felt like ice. In vain I tried to warm her hands with my own, and even breathing on them did no good, for after the flush of warmth, the heat of my breath was leached away by the winter's chill. I did my best to warm her with my own body heat, gathering her close to me, and wrapping my cloak over us both.
At last I heard a heavy tread on the tower stairs, and with a sympathetic instinct I knew it was Lord Briarwood. He impatiently thrust aside the trapdoor, and stepped up to the round tower top, taking in the view of the surrounding valley. Then his eyes dropped down to the ritual circle, the dark orb, and the unconscious form of Lady Briarwood. In an instant he had dropped down at her side, his hand seeking that of his wife's.
"What happened?!" He asked urgently, chafing her numbed fingers between his, and he brushed the hair out of her face. "How did this happen?"
"I- I don't know...It was too much I think..." I stammered incoherently, wishing fervently that I understood more about what it was that Lady Briarwood had been doing. "She completed the ritual, and it seemed to work, at least she was happy about it. But then the spell broke I think, and she fell. That thing," I pointed at the orb, "pulled this--this darkness--out of her body. Then it all vanished..."
I fell silent, my clumsy hurried speech coming to an end, and I pulled her closer to me. Silas cast a long calculating look at the dark sphere, his eyes distant.
"I see..." He said, and at last his eyes broke away from the crystal. Coming back to himself he looked down at his wife, rubbing her hand gently, and I saw something almost tender come into his eyes. He looked more human than I'd ever seen him.
Very gently he took her from me, and I unwillingly released her, my arms feeling cold and empty after supporting her for so long. Lifting Delilah as easily as he would a small child, he turned away, descending down the tower stairs. Once more withdrawn into submissive silence and obscurity I followed, feeling unwanted, but reluctant to allow Lady Briarwood to go too far from me. Wrapped in this silence we reached the bottom of the stairs, stepping from the tower's round interior, into the cold ash laden courtyard.
I had never seen, and could never have begun to imagine, such a picture of desolation. Even the flaming conflagration of Whitestone consumed and sterilized its own destruction, but this was filth that could never be washed clean. It might be washed from the stones, and all the traces might be removed, but the stain of it could never be scrubbed from memory.
The air stank. Death littered the courtyard, bodies piled on the ground, black and nameless. Blood was thick between the paving stones, soiling everything within the castle walls, dyeing the white stones bloody crimson, and the coppery smell hung thick on the stagnant air. Wreckage of the gate and broken weapons lay scattered here and there, the shafts of spears standing over the destruction like ruined trees. Some of the fallen had been carrying torches, and they smoldered fitfully still, sending up plumes of poisonous smoke.
Thus ended the second rebellion...It all came to nothing...
The courtyard was crawling with slinking black shapes, so that the ground almost appeared to be moving, and they were creeping among the corpses. I wondered if I had ever hated anything as much as I hated their crouched forms. As Silas appeared one of them rose, standing on two feet like a man and swaying back and forth. Slowly they all did the same, watching us with glittering eyes.
Without looking at them Lord Briarwood crossed the courtyard, careless of the wreckage that lay all about him, fixated completely on his wife. I quickly followed, trying not to look at the men around me. Let them remain faceless, unnamed and unknown, they were better so. As before that one swaying figure moved first, following silently after Lord Briarwood, but this time the others didn't imitate him, remaining immovable.
Still cradling his wife, Lord Briarwood paused on the top step before the castle doors, turning to look down at his assembled minions. One of them hissed, a sharp expectant sound in the stillness. The one that had followed us was now standing apart from the rest, his lone solitary figure waiting below us for Silas's command, teeth bared in a wolfish grin.
"A dire day my children...And a dire night falls after it. Fire and destruction rain over this city, war shakes in the mountains, and our night is falling...This will be a night of tears, when blood will flow like water, and we will reign until blood shall fill this entire valley."
As he had spoken of blood Lord Briarwood's voice had risen, growing in strength and majesty. He towered over the courtyard, his figure framed against the low roof of smeared cloud, and ash rained down around him.
"A night of glory!" Silas thundered. "When you shall feast, until every last drop is drained dry. Feast until you are drunk with the bounty, glory in the flood until you can bare it no more, until you are full to overflowing, revel in the plenty until your mind is overthrown. Nothing will be spared from our punishment. There will be no pity for the old, for the women, for the children."
The lone figure below us snarled, snapping its teeth, flinging strings of saliva through the air, and he pawed at the ground like a half wild dog eager to be released from its restraint. The other beasts were having a similar response, they hissed and fretted with eagerness, and they gave each other excited glances, working themselves into a frenzy. Over them all Lord Briarwood towered, standing tall and straight, carelessly holding Lady Delilah's limp form as if she were little more than a doll. He was terrifying, a powerful and fearsome god, demanding unquestioning obedience. His voice rose above the frenzy, driving them on to madness, thundering over the courtyard like an earthquake in the stones.
"GO AND YOU SHALL FEAST! There will be nothing to stand in your way! Your enemies will fly before you! Drive them, like leaves before the unstoppable storm. Topple every stronghold, destroy every barricade, scatter every shelter and secret place. Do not stop for flames, do not stop for fear, do not stop for pain, do not stop for death. You will not know weariness, you will not know pity. YOU SHALL FEAST!!!"
As if Silas had suddenly released an invisible restraint, they suddenly came alive, shrieking fiercely, their voices harsh and piercing, and leapt across the stones. It was like watching the rising of a living sea, as they poured through the gate. Some in their eagerness to reach their prize, scrabbled up the walls like twisted black spiders, flinging themselves recklessly from the castle wall top. The lone figure went last, pausing in the gate and rising to its feet, gazing back over its shoulder at Silas, like a dog with its ears half perked. I saw no sign pass between them, neither moved nor spoke a word, but their eyes met, and then the creature turned away and vanished into the ash laden shadows.
Lord Briarwood turned, careless of his minions or their fate. He seemed shrunken, and though still to my eyes majestic, he had no more than the stature of an ordinary man. Once again his had attention only for his wife, and as he turned away, he gathered her closer to himself, looking down at her. Cradling her carefully, he strode across the wide step before the castle's still open front doors, and passed through the portal into the darkened interior of the castle. Quietly I followed him, glancing back at the abandoned destruction of the courtyard, then I turned away as he had done, and pushed it from my mind.
Anna Ripley, the Professor, and several of the castle guards stood waiting in the foyer. Ripley was gazing out over the destruction, her lips curled into a small disdainful smile. There was no pity for the fallen men in her eyes, she hardly paused to glance at them, but I could see in her marked distaste that she found the destruction wasteful.
As soon as we entered Professor Anders stepped forward eagerly, his whole aspect one of fawning devotion, and he looked at Lady Briarwood's limp form with half grudging concern. Ambition bubbled beneath it all, simmering beneath every word of distress at her state, for here at last was a chance to worm his way back into the Lord and Lady's good graces. His moment for proving his use had finally come. I hated him.
Not quite as eager in his approach as Anders was, but still stepping forward with mechanical swiftness, was Sir Kerrion Stonefell. He was a man I had only seen from a distance, overlooking the farming in Whitestone, and visiting Lord Briarwood half a dozen times, but I remembered him very clearly. He was striking, mostly because he was not what one expected the former captain of Silas's guards to look like.
There was a handsome, almost boyish charm about him when he spoke. He carried himself rather freely for a soldier, having nothing of the ridged stiffness one expected, and he had a careless ease that contrasted with the deepness of his voice. His eyes were a bright blue color, that flashed when ever he smiled, and he had a thick head of tousled curly brown hair.
"Sire." He said, bowing as he stepped forward, with a fleeting half smile lurking about the corner of his mouth.
"Ah, Stonefell..." Silas said, his attention leaving his wife for a moment. "I've been wondering where you were. I need you to gather your men and strengthen the array on the wall top, the peasants may renew the attack in their desperation, and barricade the gate as best you can with what ever wood you can find. Anna, perhaps could go with you, and set more charges on the road, just as a precaution....Oh, and Stonefell--"
Sir Kerrion, who had been turning away to attend the duties that Lord Briarwood had given him, paused, smiling expectantly.
"Clean up the filth in the courtyard."
"Yes my lord."
"Anders." Silas said as Sir Kerrion hurried down the steps of the castle, taking all the guards with him, and his voice was as sharp as the crack of a whip.
"Yes my lord?" With stomach turning eagerness.
"Go fetch Delilah's implements from the east tower, and return them safely to the Ziggurat. Do it quickly, and do it alone, then come straight back to our room. My wife will need your attendance."
"Yes my lord!"
Anders hastened away, face gleeful, his ambition satisfied as he had hoped it would be. These tasks delegated, the castle's safety momentarily trusted to other hands, Silas quickly mounted the stairs, heading for the second floor. Still silent, still forgotten, still unwilling to leave Lady Briarwood, I continued to follow in my master's wake unbidden.
One last quick journey that seemed to take only moments, down winding upper corridors and windowed galleries, then the door leading into Silas and Delilah's bedchamber. It was a beautiful room, with deep rich carpet, dark wood paneling, and hangings of red velvet. A wide fireplace stood at one end of the room, and the other was dominated by a magnificent canopy bed, with dark red drapery, canopy and pillars of dark cherry stained wood, intricately carved into the shapes of various beasts both animal and mythical. Another door, that was almost indistinguishable from the rest of the paneling, I knew communicated with the dressing room and boudoir.
"Pull aside the covers." Lord Briarwood commanded, without looking at me, and I hastened to obey.
With infinite care Lord Briarwood laid his wife down, arranging the pillows under her head, and pulling the blankets over her. He smoothed the hair away from her face tenderly, and examined her closely. I shrank quietly to the other side of the bed, lurking half hidden behind the curtains.
Delilah still seemed no worse than before. She was breathing, though very shallowly, and each breath faintly stirred the covering draped over her. Her skin was still very pale, the color drained from her lips and cheeks, making her long shadowy lashes stand out stark against her skin, and her hands were almost transparent looking. I was tormented by restless concern for her.
After laying Delilah out on the bed Lord Briarwood settled down beside her, looking attentively at her face, and he absentmindedly smoothed the back of Lady Briarwood's left hand that he held between his own. I also settled down, drawing back behind the bed curtains, and waiting quietly for Anders to come.
To pass the time I glanced over my own wounds, binding them as best as I could with strips of my own shirt, which was ruined anyway. My clothes were all damp, blood and sweat soaked into my shirt, making the baggy fabric cling uncomfortably to my skin. Loose strands of sweaty hair were stuck to my face, and the braid I had hastily tied was disheveled and stringy.
At the moment I was a little worse for wear, and as the adrenaline slowly ebbed away, stinging pain began to burn through the haze of excitement and worry, demanding attention. A line of tingling irritation prickled across my shoulder blades, smarting angrily any time I shifted my position, a shallow wound on my shoulder throbbed with heat, and a fresh line of stinging pain was traced across my chest, overcrossing the healed scar that Silas's blade had given me. But the side wound that Geru had given me was the worst, radiating feverish heat through my midsection, making it difficult to breath, and thick sticky blood still oozed lethargically.
Slowly I tended to these injuries, gingerly dressing the deeper wound, with my bottom lip pinched between my teeth. The pain I couldn't fully assuage. It still throbbed through the bindings, blooming from every wound, but at least I wasn't bleeding anymore.
Professor Anders bustled into the room at last, looking hurried and out of breath. He had a small wooden box, little more than a simple chest, in which several objects made of glass clinked together. Lord Briarwood rose as he came in, and made way as the Professor approached the bed, withdrawing to a distance and looking on intently. The Professor set down his box on the bedside table, and began to look over Delilah more carefully, gently turning her head from side to side, touching her hands, and feeling the side of her neck with two fingers. I drew closer, anxiety constricting my breath, making my hands shake in spite of efforts to control them. Silas watched with similar sharpened attention, crossing his arms stoically, and standing close behind Anders.
"Healing--" Professor Anders said, holding his clenched fist over Lady Briarwood's chest, and his voice resonated with magic. "I command you."
He opened his hand, as if he were dropping something heavy he had been holding in his clenched fist, and I could sense rather see a heavy wave of magic that washed over the bed. Lady Briarwood drew in a deeper breath, her back arching slightly, then she coughed weakly. Silas was at her side in a moment, brushing Anders away, and bending attentively over his wife.
"Silas..." Delilah whispered, and her voice, though weak, wrapped lovingly around his name. Feebly she raised her arms, like a small child demanding to be held, and Lord Briarwood lifted her in a short embrace. Her pale icy fingers threaded through his hair, and she wrapped her arms around his neck with the clinging persistency of a trailing plant.
"You should be careful, you are still very weak." Lord Briarwood said, trying to extract himself from her embrace with some difficulty.
"I need more." She whispered, her grip dragging at him tenaciously as he tried to pull away, struggling with every word she spoke as if it cost her an enormous effort. "It wasn't enough, He needed more, needed better. He wasn't satisfied with my gift...He told me...to give Him...more..."
"Don't tax your strength darling..." Silas said gently, finally managing to escape her weakening grip, and he laid her back against the pillows. As soon as he had unwound her arms from around his neck, she meekly complied, clearly fatigued by the effort of speaking.
Anders had withdrawn to his wooden box, puttering about with its contents while they were speaking together, and I could tell that he was listening. He now drew out a crystal flask, securely corked, and filled with a dark red somewhat grainy liquid, with traces of greasy purple oil congealed on the sides of the flask. He gave it a shake as he held it up, examining it carefully, turning it in his hand as he did so. Apparently satisfied his arms dropped to his sides, and he turned away from the box.
"My lady," He said deferentially, approaching the bed. "Please drink this, it will help."
Silas held out his hand, and Anders gave him the flask with a small bow. Lady Delilah reached out to take it, but Lord Briarwood uncorked the bottle first with a sharp tug, then gently passed it to her, his hand still hovering in the air, ready to assist if she was too weak to drink it herself. But Lady Briarwood managed to lift the flask without assistance, and she threw her head back to drink, her hands becoming more steady as she did so. When she dropped her arms, the flask empty, a faint shade of color had come back into her face, and her fingers were no longer so deathly pale looking.
"Thank you Anders." Lord Briarwood said, taking the empty flask, and passing it back to the Professor without looking at him.
"Glad to be of assistance..." The Professor said, with another small bow, and he put the empty bottle back into the wooden chest, re-corking it as he did.
"He wanted me to give him more." Lady Briarwood murmured, her voice still exhausted, but not as thready as before. "The sacrifice mirrors the gift...He said we need something stronger, if we wish to move Him again. He wants purer blood, animals aren't enough."
"Indeed..." Lord Briarwood said, and he looked grim.
"I gave him what I had..." Delilah said, with a tiny helpless movement of her hands. "But my strength was only barely enough to complete the ritual, hardly able to cover the bare necessities, it won't be strong enough again. He told me to bring better gifts, that's all. I will have to meditate upon it."
"Not tonight." Lord Briarwood said firmly, capturing her hand. "You've exerted yourself enough for one day. You need to rest, and recover your strength, one healing potion is all you've taken."
"What would I do without you to take care of me..." Delilah murmured, the fingers of her other hand running across his cheek.
I averted my face as Silas bent over her.
"Now rest." Lord Briarwood said rising at last. "I can attend to the rest, you take another potion, then sleep."
"Of course..." Lady Delilah said tiredly, plucking her hand out of her husband's, and she settled herself deeper into the pillows behind her.
The Professor pulled two more oily red potions out of the wooden chest, setting one on the nightstand, and handing the other to Lord Briarwood. Once again Silas uncorked it first, before handing it to his wife, who obediently drank it, then handed it back to him. A poisonous glance from Silas sent Professor Anders scuttling out of the room, carrying his noticeably lighter wooden chest. Gently Silas planted a kiss on Lady Briarwood's forehead, murmuring another commandment that she rest into her hair, then he also left the room. It had been completely forgotten that I was there, half hidden behind the curtain during the whole conversation, and quietly I rose to quit the room.
"Cassandra." Lady Briarwood's voice arrested me with my hand on the door, and I turned to look at her.
She looked better than before, some of her color had come back, though she still looked pale and wan. Against the whiteness of her face her eyes were unnaturally dark, large and luminous looking. But she was smiling as I turned to look at her, and she held out her hand, fingers trembling slightly.
"Come and lie down with me, my dear."
"I should leave, you need to rest, and Lord Briarwood..." I stammered hesitantly, drawn closer in spite of myself, and I paused at the edge of her bed trembling.
"I want you my dear." Delilah said firmly, taking my hand and pulling me closer. I yielded to her submissively, sinking down on top of the heavy blanket, curling up next to her on the edge of the bed. Lady Briarwood touched my shoulder, then withdrew her hand, fingertips dabbed with blood that was soaking through my makeshift bandage.
"What are these?!" She said, running her fingers over my shoulder, and the dressing around my stomach. "You're wounded..." Suddenly she pulled herself into a half sitting position, her face becoming hard as she said, "I want you to get that potion on the nightstand, and take it, right now, before you bleed anymore."
"That was for you..." I said shrinkingly. "Lord Briarwood would be angry."
"I want you to take it." Delilah returned commandingly. "I order you to."
I couldn't disobey her. For a moment I struggled, but it only took seconds for me to give in. Every bone in my body commanded me to yield to her, and helpless to do otherwise, I surrendered. Gathering myself I rose, taking the potion filled flask and uncorking it.
The potion was grainy, as if it was full of fine sand, but it had an oily tang. It coated the inside of my mouth as soon as I began to drink, gathering on the inside of my throat like a cough medicine. The taste was reminiscent of gravel, or dirt, further highlighting the potion's grainy texture.
As soon as the potion began to hit my stomach I felt warmth bloom outwards. The stab wound in my side tingled, and began to itch like a healing wound, as the flesh stitched back together, finally it turned into a still fresh pinkish scar, the other slashes on my body closing as well. I drew a deep breath, the stab of pain in my side at every inhale gone.
Lady Briarwood held out her arm for me as I returned, making room on the bed. Taking her hand, I settled down on top of the covers, curling up in a ball, tucked into her side. I breathed in the smell of the bed covers, which had a faintly spicy odor to them, and felt the softness of the mattress under me, leaching all the exhausted heaviness out of my body.
"That's better..." Delilah murmured, her hand brushing through my hair, delicately plucking the loose strands out of my face. "I knew I'd feel better with you near me."
Her arm wrapped around me, gathering me even closer to her. I could feel her hand stroking the middle of my back. And a stab of aching pain sank through the center of my being with a sharp, sharp, point. I closed my eyes against it, my fingers sinking convulsively into the blanket, fighting back tears.
Oh god, I'd been craving this...