Masques (Sianim #1)(7)

"Runyons!" She swore at her own stupidity. "They're his, aren't they?" The warhorse, slightly spooked by the nasty smell behind them and miffed by the slow pace they were taking, took exception to the sudden sound and bucked hard. She didn't fall off, but it was a near thing, and it took a while to stop the curveting completely.

The Wolf waited until the show stopped and then said, "Yes, they belong to him," Without waiting to comment further he continued on, leaving Aralorn to follow as she could.

The sun began to rise on the silent travelers. Aralorn was quiet, first because she didn't know what to say to Wolf and later because fatigue kept her silent. Three weeks with no exercise left her feeling as if she was recovering from a prolonged illness. Despite her tiredness, when the Wolf halted and told her they were stopping for the afternoon she protested.

"If we don't stop and let the horse graze and get some rest, you'll be walking tomorrow." He spoke slowly and clearly, and his voice managed to pierce through her exhaustion.

She nodded, knowing he was right, but the urge to run away from the castle was stronger than her common sense, so she didn't dismount. The horse arched his neck and blew, dancing suddenly on his hind legs as if preparing for battle, responding to the invisible signals of his rider.

Wolf was silent until he saw her sway in the saddle from sheer exhaustion. "I will stay on watch tonight, Lady. I know when the ae'Magi or his playthings are near and I won't let them take you back." His voice was softer, not quite as harsh as it had been that day.

Again she nodded but this time she dismounted and, with more instinct than willpower, began to untack the horse. The light saddle seemed to weigh more than she remembered and it was an effort to reach high enough to get the bridle off, but she managed. Sheen was well trained and needed no restraint to keep him close. She untied the sleeping roil and climbed in it without even dusting off her clothes. The Wolf stretched out beside her and the last thing she noticed was the comforting sound of the stallion munching grass.

Chapter Two

Aralorn breathed in ragged gasps and rubbed a shaky hand across the wetness on her cheeks. Sweating, and still half caught in her nightmare, she covered her ears with her hands to shut out the soft, seductive voice of the ae'Magi.

She observed the still-dark sky, wishing that she wouldn't have to try to sleep again. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the Magician's fine-boned hand holding the ornate silver dagger he used to butcher his sacrifices. The spells that he used to increase his magnetism kept his victims, usually children, from objecting so they stood quietly between his hands. One brown-eyed boy was so caught by the spell that he smiled as the ae'Magi drew his knife.

The ae'Magi killed them without passion or pleasure. To Aralorn, life and death were passionate things, and to rob them of emotion made them seem meaningless.

She sat up abruptly and wiped again at her wet cheeks. The horse stood nearby, dozing with one hind foot cocked and his Roman nose lowered almost to knee level. Near Sheen, Wolf lay still. Only the glitter of his eyes in the darkness showed that he was awake as promised. His gaze was focused in the darkness of the trees. She knew that he must have heard her when she woke up, so his inattention was deliberate; her distrust had hurt him badly last night.

She spoke softly, knowing that he would listen, whether he appeared to do so or not. "I didn't really think that you were the ae'Magi," she said. When he made no reply, she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.

Aralorn thought hard for a moment, trying to put into words the feelings that had made her distrust him. When she spoke, her voice was muffled behind her knees. "It's just that place - it ... twists everything. There is so much magic in the castle that I could almost see it. Almost every thought that I had was distorted in one way or another. He loves it, you know - the deception."

She shuddered slightly and continued. "I'd see him drink the blood of a newborn baby and I'd find myself thinking how beautifully the light of the sacrificial fire colored his hair. It's plaguing scary not to know whether your feelings are your own or only the result of a spell." Her hands tightened on her legs until the knuckles turned white.

"I have never been so frightened in my entire life. I always thought that I was strong-willed, but even with my mother's blood to help me resist the spells, I couldn't block the feeling that I wanted to please him, to make him want me," Her voice died to a whisper at the last.

She leaned on one cheek, turning her head to look at him. "I might have been able to block it toward the last - when I knew what the spells were and how he worked them - but I couldn't because I had to act as if the spell were having its effect on me. Sometimes I think ... that maybe I didn't want, to block the spell because it made me feel so much better ..." She knew that she would have bruises in the morning from gripping her arms so hard.

She took a shuddering breath and concealed her face once more against her knees before continuing in a whisper, "I thought that once I left that everything would be back to normal, but it isn't. I can't get him out of my mind. I see his face every time I close my eyes."

Slowly Wolf stood up and left his place. He sat down and leaned against her. She loosed her grip on her legs and ran a hand in the thick pelt. Although usually aloof, Wolf occasionally chose to act like a dog would. A cold nose worked its way under her arm and his warm, wet tongue licked at her chin until she squealed and pulled away with a quavering laugh, wiping at her face with her sleeves.