"What a waste of a wonder you were."--Cashore
Time stopped for Alora. Yzebel’s laughter thinned until it sounded like a mere echo through a narrow canyon and Abigor’s eyes seemed to peer at her from a great distance. Everything became silent and still in her mind. And she thought of Sar and that long-ago night when she’d sat around her fire wrapped in her ragged cloak and told him that Bune’s price was far higher than any coin she could ever ask for.
Because that was what she did. Offered what appeared to be simple and then the true cost was tallied afterwards.
She’d thought finding a replacement for Alain would be easy. But she’d forgotten the one rule that had been ingrained on her soul just as deeply and permanently as the mark she bore on her breast.
If it could be done, Abigor never would have made the offer.
She would leave, and go back to Islinn. And do for Darius what she had been paid to do. Then Abigor and the rest of the Dark Lords would watch and laugh as she ran about looking for the equal of whatever Alain had become in his final days through the fever of his madness. She could run like a dog runs deer and it would never be enough. And when Abigor became bored, he would cast…and call out…and Islinn would obey.
She felt hollow inside, as though something of great consequence had already been taken away. Slowly the space began to fill with anger and she let the heat of it rush over her. Through her. Anger at herself for believing for even the slightest of moments that her life was her own.
“Alora. I said do you understand me?” Abigor’s voice flowed over her like oil.
“I understand.”
The words physically hurt her. To say them and to hear them. Yet her eyes were dry. She wasn’t worried about being overwhelmed by tears. Her eyes were as dry as her throat. Dry and still.
Abigor gave a hearty laugh.
“That’s wonderful, Alora. I knew I could trust you to not let your emotions get the best of…”
“No.” She interrupted.
Abigor paused and his eyes took on a darker roll of color as he watched her. He draped an arm around Yzebel’s shoulder and let his fingers creep inside her robe where they pinched and fondled. The hag purred and closed her eyes, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Alora could sense that Yzebel felt the proper order to everything was about to be restored.
“What do you mean by no?” Abigor pulled his lips into an exaggerated pout as his eyes settled on her, dark and heavy. Alora could feel his anger but it came in a very distant second to her own.
“I mean no, don’t trust me. Don’t ever say you trust me. Because if the opportunity ever arises for me to betray you, never doubt that I’ll take it. Because I will.”
Alora took a step towards him and saw Yzebel flinch. Abigor never moved. The skin on his face rippled and shuddered and for a moment his hesitant grin was off-center, located more towards his right cheek. But it settled back into place and widened. Alora recognized it as his hearty grin. His “I’m-Shitting-In-High-Cotton” grin. The fuck-you grin. And she knew she’d gotten to him.
The dull satisfaction she felt only spurred her anger on. She leaned in and stared into the galaxy of his eyes.
“And you think on that. In still moments.” She whispered. In his eyes she could see a whirling mass of restless entities with no purpose other than to hurt and destroy. And she felt him. His self or essence or whatever it was called radiated heat, a slow drum far beneath the surface burn of his anger. But he was also…unsure. Hesitant. And Alora found her recognition of this both magnificent and terrible.
“Brave words, Alora,” He smiled, baring his teeth at her. “Spoken like someone with nothing to lose.”
“I could say the same of you.” She replied.
A low guttural snarl began to hum in his throat and his skin moved as though there were a horde of insects below its surface. Still, Alora stood her ground and somewhere within herself she realized, sickly, that the only reason she was still going toe to toe with him was because it didn’t matter. Either way, the end result would be the same. She would lose Islinn.
His hands blurred as he ripped her jerkin open and she felt the heat of him, hot and dry, as he pressed his smooth, unlined palms against her brand. He moved in on her, crowding her, wanting her to step back. To step down.
Instead, she moved forward, pushing herself against him. Fear sang through every part of her body yet anger kept driving her forward, driving her beyond what her mind knew was rational in this setting, in this moment because beneath that anger was a great sense of betrayal.
She’d thought she could ride in here and everything would be the same.
But somewhere between the loss of her mother and seeing Abigor’s face in the starlight…
Somewhere between Islinn’s love and what she had just agreed to…
Somewhere between her arrogance and her vulnerability was a sense of betrayal so devastating that it was only her anger that kept her from falling to her knees and weeping.
She wondered briefly if Abigor could sense any of that. Or possessed the capability to understand it if he could.
The heat on her skin lessened. Abigor lightened his touch and now his pressing hands began to slowly move across her chest, up and over the swell of her breasts. Alora drew in a ragged breath. Abigor smiled.
“Starlight,” He whispered nonsensically as his fingers grazed her nipples and paused.
“Starlight and ancient wind born before breath. Part of your legacy,Alora. And I don’t understand.”
He paused, his eyes gentle, as he lightly pinched and caressed her nipples until they stiffened beneath his heated touch.
“I don’t. No I do not, I don’t understand,” He almost sang beneath his breath as he dropped his head. Alora shivered as his tongue ran across her nipple, his spit thick as clotted cream. She remained still but knew he could hear the panicky beat of her heart.
“Don’t understand at all. Not you. Not her,” He continued as he caught her nipple between his teeth. The quick bite caused her to jump.
“I thought I did but I was mistaken. Look at you,” Abigor raised his head and his soft voice became edged with contempt.
“Nothing touches you yet you long to be touched by hands that belong to a girl that follows what you were born to abhor. Always the paradox. But know this Alora, and know it well.”
His voice dropped to a whisper as he pressed his face into her neck. The thick slide of his tongue slowly made its way along her skin.
‘You belong to me. Never forget that. And this little matter between Bune and Yzebel was left up to you but never think for one moment that it was about you. I don’t give a fuck about Yzebel and what Bune wants. But I do give a fuck about you and your legacy. So, be angry. Feel betrayed. Speak your threats. None of it matters. What matters is you will honor me and bring me what I have requested and you will honor your legacy by casting a worthy soul. Never think I won’t take Islinn from you. And I will devastate her. I will devastate her to the point of where she’ll long for death, beg for it like a gift from her token god, a gift I won’t allow her to have. Do you believe this? Do you,Alora?”
And Alora did. She could feel the overwhelming conviction of his words through the rough caress of his hands on her skin, through the fetid scent of his breath against her neck, and through her own sense of overwhelming helplessness in a situation where there had been no choices for her to make. It had all been decided long before she’d even ridden into the camp.
And now, she was so empty inside. She nodded listlessly in answer to his question. She could feel his curved smile against her neck.
“Good,” He purred in her ear. His hands kneeded her breasts restlessly. Possessively. Alora remained still, her hands at her sides and clenched into tight fists.
“And now…” Abigor’s lips grazed her ear as he whispered. “You will kneel. And you will honor me.”
His hand took one of her fists and rested it against the front of his breeches and what she felt there caused her voice to fail. Instead, she shook her head rapidly and tried to take a step away but Abigor quickly brought his other hand up and grasped the back of her neck, holding her fast.
“Yes,” He whispered. “Yes,you will. You will honor me in whatever manner I ask you to. Because if you don’t I will call her here now, Alora. Is that what you want? Do you want Islinn here? Do you miss her so much that you want her to see you now? Perhaps…to watch?”
He giggled softly as he pressed her hand hard against him.
“No.” She muttered. She forced her head up and looked at him, her black eyes wounded and pleading.
“No?” He questioned. “No, you won’t kneel…or no to bringing Islinn here? Which is it Alora? Think before you answer now. Think long and hard.”
She didn’t need to think. He’d whispered so softly that no one had heard but her so she knew what he said to be true. This display wasn’t for Yzebel, who still watched with avid curiosity, nor was it for the satisfaction of Leonard or anyone else watching. It was all about her. And what he could make her do.
“Open your hand, Alora.” His soft voice glided over her senses and she felt her tears overflow and run down her face. Slowly she relaxed her hand and felt the stealthy shift and full heat of him against her fingers.
One last time, she tried but words failed her. She could only look at him, silently pleading.
You know you can make me do this. We both know you can. But please don’t.
She sensed no hesitancy in him now. No longer unsure, he gave her a soft smile.
“You will pay homage to me,Alora. In the manner I ask. So,which is it? No to my request? Or no to me summoning Islinn?”
“Don’t summon Islinn.” She said, her voice trembling and low. He cocked his head and gave her a quizzical stare.
“What was that? I can barely hear you Alora; you need to speak up.”
“I said…” She repeated, her voice louder. Now he could hear the wet brush of tears in her words.
“Don’t summon Islinn.”
“You’ll do what I ask of you?”
She was silent. She nodded her head. He tightened his grasp on her neck and whispered to her again.
“Say it. I want to hear you say it, Alora.” He cajoled. “This is a bargain to be sealed with words, Twiceborn.”
He giggled again and Alora felt his tongue graze her ear lobe then work its way deeper. Instinctively, she pulled away but he held her in place.
Her anger had abandoned her. She knew what he wanted, she could feel it pulsing in the cup of her hand, and she could feel it in the pressure he was exerting on her neck as he urged her to her knees. She wanted to scream. And run. But she couldn’t.
And not because she wasn’t physically capable but because of who she was. Alora the Twiceborn. He could force her to do what he wanted but he could not take away who she was in the Underrealms. She could not back down and she could not show fear. But right now, she wasn’t sure if her legacy was truly worth it.
“Actually,this pact, Alora…” He gave her neck a quick shake. He could tell she had drifted from the moment.
“This pact depends very highly on your words. On your mouth. So, say it. Say you will honor me.” He demanded, his voice still soft because his words were for her and her alone.
Alora tried to speak. Again, she caught his eyes with her own and silently beseeched him to stop. To not break her so completely. A tiny smile curved his lips.
“On your knees.” He said. “Tell me you will honor me on your knees.”
She had nothing left. Tears burned her eyes as she knelt on the cold dirt. She looked up at him because she didn’t want to see what she was now eye-level with and for a quick moment, she thought of Islinn. And how she must have felt all those times she’d been in this same situation.
Alora looked up at Abigor and saw him in the moonlight and instantly knew this was a moment she would never allow herself to forget. The moonlight made it real.
“I love you, Alora.” He said, his voice gentle. And it was true. She’d forgotten her world where love was pain and Abigor was simply reminding her in a manner she’d never forget. Her heart felt like a stone in her chest.
He raised his hands up towards the pristine glow of the moon and stars as he looked down at her, his smile widening.
“Say it,Alora. Say you will honor me.”
His voice was loud now, wanting the others to hear. To watch. And to see his power.
“I will honor you.”
Her voice sounded as dead as she felt. He lowered his arms and brought one hand down to work the strange buttons of his armor. His other hand rested on the back of her head and pressed her against him.
“And now, begin.”