Empire of Night

Chapter Sixteen

Primal

Inerys woke to the low whine of her door. Grimacing, she sank further beneath the covers in an attempt to soothe the sharp sting it drew from her ears. Heavy footsteps reverberated through the stone and bed and into her bones, then ceased in the center of the room. A soft, resigned exhalation followed. She listened, for a moment, half afraid to peek out from the blankets and come face to face with the mist-forsaken man named Rhydian. While he'd promised her he would not harm her, he still terrified her. His appearance stoked some primal fear she’d never known she possessed.

Despite their otherworldliness, Sorisanna and Cydan had been far more palatable. She saw hints of familiarity in their faces, the subtle resemblance some of her fellow Hounds still bore to their inhuman kin. Rhydian and the other woman, however, were alien. Their blue-gray skin too closely resembled the deepwoods after dusk and the severity of their vulpine faces were likely to startle even the most staunch sorcerer into an early grave. As it was, those silvery, owl-like eyes of his had haunted what little sleep she’d found.

She knew he was waiting for her and debated asking him to leave, when the scent of seared venison teased her nose. It spoke to the deep, yawning hunger in her gut and momentarily drove all rational thought from her mind. Each ingredient was distinct: rosemary, salt and a dash of pepper. It was simple and while more potent than she was used to, lured her nonetheless. She caught hints of other scents too, some sweet, some not. Others drew the attention of the creature inside her. She thought to ignore them out of some unfounded spite, but her opposition quickly dissolved in favor of investigation. Cautiously, she poked her head out from the blankets.

At first, Rhydian eyed her as though she might spring from the bed at any moment, his stance primed to leap aside, tray and all. Was she really so terrifying to him? She supposed if they truly suspected her of being like that other woman, as Sorisanna had theorized, she understood. She had her own reservations about him, so she couldn’t exactly blame the man for being cautious. She suspected this was new to everyone involved.

She reluctantly wiggled her hands free of the blankets to prove she was still bound and he seemed to relax. Admittedly, she’d tried to slip them off for the first hour after he’d left when she thought Cydan and Sorisanna weren’t looking, but had been rewarded with an unrelenting nausea. Her resolve had fizzled out rather quickly after the first dozen or so attempts, but he didn’t need to know. She was still here, after all, and felt marginally better after the sage’s tea and some rest.

“I brought you something to eat,” he said, adjusting the tray in his hands, “I imagine you’re quite hungry?”

“Starving,” she said, loathing the way her current lack of teeth obscured the word. Her cheeks burned. Spirits’ breath, she sounded like a toddler again.

“I’d say,” Cydan said from where he had been silently reading in the corner, “asleep or not, her stomach growling could wake the dead.”

Rhydian winced, “I suppose I should have come sooner.”

Cydan closed his book and unhooked the ankle he’d crossed over his knee. “What happened to Sorisanna? She left a few hours ago to bring us something.”

“I’m sure that was her intention,” he said, rounding the bed, “but I found her asleep in the store room.”

“Really? I can’t say I’m surprised. The poor woman was dead on her feet.”

Inerys was inclined to agree. She’d experienced a similar bone-deep exhaustion a time or two herself. Though, she couldn’t say she’d ever fallen asleep in the middle of a task. The woman must have been tired indeed.

“I brought her to her room,” Rhydian assured, “Would you check on her in a few hours for me?”

“Of course.”

“And shoo her back to bed if you catch her wandering around before dawn. I’m sure we can survive the night without her,” he added.

Cydan’s chuckle was light. “I’ll do my best, ser.”

Inerys watched the other man take his leave, then glanced toward Rhydian when the door clicked shut.

“How are you feeling?” Rhydian asked.

“Like I’ve spent the last week circling the bottom of a wine cask,” she admitted.

“I can imagine. You look a bit better than when I left,” he said.

She wasn’t quite sure she believed him, but said, “Sorisanna’s tea helped with some of the pain.”

“Good. I have another dose for you, but you should eat first. Some of the herbs can be rough on the stomach.”

“Is this one going to put me to sleep again?” She asked.

“It’s meant to help you sleep, not force you to,” he said, setting the tray upon her nightstand.

This close, the scents seized her attention. They were all familiar to some degree or another, yet one, in particular, called to her above the rest. She studied the small array of wooden plates as she sought to pinpoint it. Three plates were arranged along one side of the tray bearing seared venison, a serving of what appeared to be mixed berries and a small loaf of warm bread. The medicinal tea was also present, carefully tucked in the corner. As desirable as they were, none of them held the allure she desired.

To her dismay, the other half of the tray was more concerning. A lone plate bore a small collection of raw meat cuttings and was flanked by two identical mugs filled with dark liquid she thought might be wine. The only difference between them was the scent. The one on the left smelled thin and strangely gamey. However the one on the right was rich and laced with a heady spice. Deep down, she felt the creature inside her stir in response; a great, drowsy beast roused by that scent alone. Her thoughts grew muddy and some distant part of her thrashed against the animalistic instinct driving her bound hands toward the cup.

She needed food, not wine. What was she thinking? She’d been starved for who knew how long and her first inclination was to drink away her troubles? She knew her body had been broken, but had the same been done to her mind? What was wrong with her? Though she tried, she couldn’t tear her gaze from the cursed mug. One sip might ease her pain, would ease her pain. She simply had to reach out and indulge. . .

Memory flashed and the patchy skin along her neck began to tingle. Those ember eyes from before suddenly bore into her, the ghostly echo of the woman’s fangs piercing her flesh like a shard of ice. Her bound hands flew to her throat, relief and nausea coursing through her in equal measure as the silver bit deep. It isn’t wine, her inner voice screamed, it’s blood!

The revelation struck her like an arctic breeze.

Her body locked up, lungs strangled for breath. She wasn’t a monster, not like the woman. She couldn’t be, yet she longed for the forbidden contents as if she were some deprived addict. Her skin itched, her jaw ached and it was all she could do not to lunge for the damned tray.

Beside her, Rhydian had stiffened. “Inerys?” He asked carefully.

At first, she didn’t hear him.

She wasn’t certain whether it was her who was reaching for the mug, or the creature.

“Inerys!”

She flinched, his raised voice hitting her like a blow to the head.

Her gaze snapped to his face.

“I– I’m sorry,” she breathed.

A muscle feathered along his clenched jaw as he sat, half poised on the defensive.

“What is it?” He asked, all pleasantries forgotten.

She couldn’t think beyond the scent.

Her throat began to constrict, but she managed a strangled, “I need it.”

The desperation of the admission disgusted her, yet it was the truth.

His gaze flickered to the mug in question, though he asked in a low, dangerous tone, “Which one?”

Inerys thought to lie, for she feared her future hinged on her response, but even if she did, she suspected he already knew the truth. With trembling hands, she pointed at the mug on the right. Her ears ticked in response to the sudden spike in his heartbeat, but she couldn't bring herself to care. As long as he gave her what she needed, she could figure out the repercussions later. His quiet reluctance began to strip away what little restraint she had left and when his hand finally grasped the mug, her will snapped.

Quick as an asp, she lunged forward and tore the cup from his fingers. A low growl, like that of some mountain cat, escaped her as she drew back toward the headboard with her prize. She wasted no time downing it, the warm liquid flowing across her tongue and down her throat like a thick, mulled wine. She found herself drunk on it as the seconds passed, drowning in the relief the strange spice offered. It was full bodied and sweet, absent the metallic edge she’d tasted in her own blood.

On some instinctive level, she knew she had been after whatever curiosity the blood contained, rather than blood itself. Her body seemed to wick away the essence of it the moment it crossed her lips. Her joints loosened and the deep ache in her bones eased a fraction. Her back bowed against the wood and pillows as she slouched forward, panting. Gradually, her thoughts pieced themselves back together.

She tensed.

The room had gone quiet.

Rhydian crouched in a defensive stance a few feet from the bed, his hand upon a blade. No, not a blade, an arrow. He held the shaft firm behind the long, razor-sharp tip. The head alone may as well have been a dagger. It was the sort of arrow one might use to down a prize stag or bear, not some bedridden girl. Her mouth dried at the sight of the familiar fletching at the end of the shaft. She’d seen a similar bolt buried in the woman’s back, not once, but twice. The memories were fragmented, somehow, but she knew she’d seen its siblings.

Inerys gripped her empty mug tight and shied away. Even with her strength, she doubted she’d be able to gain the upper hand in an altercation. She was bound and half dead already. If he’d truly killed the woman in the woods, what was Inerys but an afterthought?

Down the hall, she could have sworn she heard a snarl and the scraping of talons on stone. Whatever creature was responsible sounded massive, though did not terrify her the way the immediate threat did. Conflict warred behind Rhydian’s silver eyes and the two stared at one another for a long moment, awaiting the first strike. When none came, he was the first to relax, albeit warily.

“Are you still in there?” He asked.

She nodded feverishly.

“Are you back in control of yourself?”

Again, she nodded and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

After a moment of careful consideration, he slowly set the arrow upon the floor and bared his gloved palm to her. His gaze remained locked with hers all the while and he backed a single step to retrieve his fallen chair with his free hand. Heart racing, she mirrored the gesture by leaning forward to relinquish her makeshift weapon. A cup. Were it not for the situation, she might have laughed. What would a bit of fired clay do against a man like him? He wasn’t some drunken pureblood in the tavern back home.

“I suppose that answers that question,” he muttered under his breath.

Inerys drew her shaking fingers against her stomach and tucked up her knees.

“What question?” She asked, voice barely there.

He blew out a humorless laugh. “As to your preference. In truth, we weren’t sure what you could eat, so I brought a few staples as well as a few test items for you to sample.”

“Oh,” was all she could say, her brows knit.

She felt as though she’d failed some test. Miserably so. Still, it seemed they’d silently come to some sort of truce, however uneasy it was.

“I’m sorry,” she said, for what little it was worth, “that’s never happened to me before. The loss of control, I mean.”

He studied her.

“Each species is different. I was hoping your diet was still close enough to ours, but it doesn’t appear to be the case.”

She could tell the fact troubled him.

“I – the venison smells delicious. I’d love some, if the offer is still on the table,” she said, remaining where she was more for his benefit rather than her own. He may draw the arrow again if she so much as twitched.

Something akin to relief shone in his eye, though apprehension swept in behind it.

“The . . .”

“Cooked one. Not the . . . raw bit,” she clarified.

His shoulders relaxed.

“By all means,” he said, moving the tray up to the bed for her and retrieving the empty mug.

She frowned down at her bindings, but decided now was not the time to ask for them to be removed. Mercifully, the seared loins had already been cut into manageable medallions. Her stomach growled audibly and she quickly shoved her hands against it as if they would somehow quell the sound. Heat rushed into her pale cheeks. Her body had already betrayed her and now it was keen to embarrass her as well. Wonderful. She was beginning to think death was preferable after all.

Spirits, what would Nan and Soren make of all this? Her heart ached at the thought of them. Were they waiting for her beside the fire, worried and afraid? Or had Alaric already returned to tell them she’d been claimed by the deepwoods like her mother? Tears welled in her eyes, yet she forced herself to reach for the fork with light-laced fingers. She would need every bit of strength she could gather for the journey home.

Rhydian offered her a soft cloth. “For your eyes,” he murmured.

Her breath rattled as she took it. “Thank you. Do you know what’s happened to me?”

“The others and I have theories, but nothing definitive. You’ve changed, though. Your fangs are proof enough.”

Sorisanna had told her something similar and while Inerys wanted to argue she was still herself, still a Hound, she knew better. She wasn’t a fool. Deluding herself wouldn’t earn her any favors nor change the reality of her situation. She was alive, at least, and she could work with that.

“You don’t know what that woman was, then?” She asked.

“Unfortunately, no, but I intend to find out. I’m not sure if your current state is a blessing or a curse for us, insensitive as that might sound. We weren’t expecting any of this, but you could provide us with some rather valuable insight. If you help us figure this all out, I’ll do what I can to help you,” he said.

Inerys wanted desperately to believe him.

“I have a family waiting for me,” she said, picking at the berries.

“Children?”

She shook her head. “My brother and grandmother. Right now, I’m their sole provider.”

Without her, they still had her Trust to fall back on, but she wasn’t ready to relinquish the information. She needed him to believe peoples’ lives hinged on her return. Whatever sympathy she could garner, she would take.

He frowned. “I see. Are they in the Veil too? You never told me where you were from.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d believe me,” she said.

“After what I’ve seen these past few days, I’m willing to believe just about anything,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair, “what did you mean by deepwoods? You mentioned them before, but I’m not certain I understand. Do you live somewhere within them?”

“I guess that’s the best way to describe it,” she said, “I’ve only ever known the Seven Cities and the woods surrounding them. We knew there were places beyond the forest, but no one has been able to travel beyond them in centuries. We’ve only ever had stories, oral traditions. We Hounds have Adai in our heritage, so we knew there was some truth to the tales. I never would have imagined how far removed we actually are, though.”

He rubbed a hand along his jaw, the other crossing over his chest. His eyes glazed over, as if his mind were somehow in two places at once.

“These cities, are they large?” He asked.

She pursed her lips, not entirely sure how to answer the question. They were far larger than her village, yet she hadn’t the faintest idea how they might compare to a city full of Adai.

“Each city-state is different, but they each have a handful of surrounding villages. Corvanna is said to have a few towns, but I’ve never seen them. I haven’t traveled far beyond Aeodran, really. Aside from the forest.”

“Aeodran,” he said, “is that where you’re from?”

“My village is less than a league outside the city,” she said, “you’ve . . . never heard of them?”

“No. We’ve only ever known the Veil to be a cursed land filled with Blight and angry spirits. To learn there are entire cities within it is shocking, to say the least. Had you told me all this less than a week ago under different circumstances, I would have thought you a madwoman.”

“I’m beginning to feel like one.”

“You might have been better off if you were,” he admitted. “You mentioned mixed blood. What of these humans you spoke of?”

“The purebloods? It’s rare to see them outside their city walls. Some own farms beyond them, but they’re only ever staffed by mundanes,” she noticed his brow furrow at the term, so she clarified, “Hounds and mundanes are both of mixed blood, but mundanes have less Adai in their heritage. These days, most of them could pass for purebloods. They have rounded ears, but some still have the Adai height. The Sorcerers Guild has methods of deciphering one’s ancestry through blood, but I have no idea how it works.”

“I see . . .” he said, clearly confused on some level. “What were you doing out there when the woman found you?”

She grimaced. “Searching for herbs. Most Hounds make their living hunting and foraging materials for the Guild. It’s dangerous work.”

“Had you ever seen the woman before?”

“No,” she breathed, “If I had, I would have run the moment she stepped out of the mist. Instead, I hid.”

“How did she find you?”

Shuddering, she raised her arm, tracing a now-healed scar along the back of her forearm. “At the time, this was still a fresh wound. I tore open my stitches while trying to creep away. She must have scented the blood. I knew the moment she noticed I was there, though. There was this . . . buzzing in my ears. I heard her speak in this other language and suddenly, my body wasn’t my own. It was like I’d become a slave to her words.”

Rhydian’s nostrils flared lightly.

“You had no control at all?”

She shook her head. “I was a prisoner in my own body.”

There was a measure of urgency to him as he rose. “I’m afraid I have other matters yet to see to, but I’d like to speak more later. Rest while you can. Ayduin’s agreed to spend the night with you, but be warned, she’s more wary of you than I am.”

Inerys nearly dropped her fork, venison and all. “She won’t hurt me, will she?”

“She’s given me her word, but I cannot promise her facial expressions will be particularly pleasant. This is a learning experience for us all.”

She shuddered, not particularly thrilled by the idea as she looked to her waiting tea.

It was probably best if she drank it now.

“I understand,” she said quietly.

“I’ll be back come morning,” she assured, “Good night, Inerys.”