Olgya shivered, closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her expression was like iron. “I already accepted that my son was dead several nights ago. Come, we have business to do and an entire city to save.”
Nathan gave Bannon another paternal hug. “You look quite a mess. Go clean yourself up, eat, rest. When you have recovered, the duma will want a full report of what you saw inside the enemy’s camp.”
Bannon nodded sheepishly. “Where is Nicci? I should let her know that I’m alive.”
Nathan paused. “She has gone away.”
For an instant, Bannon’s heart failed, fearing that the beautiful sorceress had been killed on the battlefield.
“By now, she is in Tanimura, I hope,” Nathan continued. “She traveled in the sliph to spread a warning about General Utros and his army.”
Still protective, Lila placed a firm hand on Bannon’s shoulder, guiding him from the duma chamber. “We can discuss this later. Bannon Farmer is weary and hungry. I will see to his needs.”
The young man was relieved, not sure he could think straight after all he’d been through. He swayed on his feet as he followed the morazeth.
They headed toward the grand villa that had, until recently, been the lavish home of Maxim and Thora. Many of the rooms had been taken over by household servants who had worked there. Leading Bannon, Lila called out to two women who stood in the corridors under the open trellises. “Bring food. This man needs nourishment. He is a brave fighter for Ildakar.”
The women recognized Bannon and hurried off. When he reached his chambers, he looked at the broad bed with its silken sheets, the small table, a wardrobe for his garments, a pitcher filled with fresh water, a bowl with overripe and moldy fruit that had been there for days. Two tangerines were still intact, despite their hard, dry rinds. Bannon grabbed one and worked at the peel, but Lila took it from him and sliced it in quarters with her dagger. He slurped the sweet citrus fruit and felt a rush of energy. He let his eyes flutter closed as he let out a long sigh.
Lila moved about the room, businesslike. She found a soft cloth, moistened it with water from the pitcher, and began to scrub the dried blood from his face, rubbing hard as if she could wipe away the freckles as well. She dabbed at a scab on his mouth, then washed his neck. Her intent eyes seemed to be studying a specimen or preparing him for sale to some discriminating merchant.
“I just want to lie down and rest,” he said, feeling uneasy.
“Not yet. You have been through a difficult challenge, as hard as combat in the arena. You’re sweaty, your muscles are hard and knotted. You are not ready for sleep yet.”
The two servant women appeared, carrying platters with grapes, cheeses, a couple of hard rolls, and sliced yaxen meat. Bannon’s mouth watered. The tangerine hadn’t been enough. “Maybe I’m not ready for sleep just yet.” The women hovered, asking if he needed anything else, but Lila shooed them away.
Bannon ravenously tore into one of the rolls, then ate cheese and a handful of juicy grapes that he barely chewed before swallowing.
As he ate, Lila tugged at his shirt, but the fabric stuck to scabs on his back, and crusted dirt and blood made the cloth stiff. With a grunt of frustration, she used her dagger to slice the shirt down the back. He yelped in surprise, but she tugged the cloth away. “It was ruined anyway.” She tossed it into a pile on the floor.
Bannon chewed a slice of meat, tasting the savory juices. It was all he could concentrate on.
With the shirt gone, Lila used the wet cloth to rinse his back, then his chest, and Bannon relaxed. Only hours ago, he had been sure of being executed. He slid away from the tray of food and sat on the edge of the bed. After she finished washing his chest, she went behind him and kneaded his shoulders, then worked her way down his back. Morazeth trainers usually inflicted extravagant pain, but this was exactly the opposite.
“You have skills beyond combat, Lila. I’m glad.”
“I have many skills.” She placed her hand on his chest and pressed him abruptly backward onto the bed so she could remove his boots. “As you well know.”
“What are you doing? I’m tired and sore.”
“You had a great battle,” she said. “I … worried about you, and I am pleased you were not killed. I want to show my gratitude.”
“Thank you, but it’s not necessary.”
Lila had never accepted no for an answer. “Honor demands it.” After his hard days of training in the combat pits, she had claimed him as her lover, granting him a “reward” of physical pleasure, whether or not he wanted it. She had demanded it for herself and gave him no choice. “Do you have the strength to resist me?”
“I am not your prisoner anymore,” he said.
“You are still a man.” Her voice was gruff. With a gesture so swift he barely saw her move her fingers, she unfastened the wrap around her breasts and let the leather strip drop to the floor. “I no longer need to force you.”
Bannon felt the cool sheets under his bruised back, looked up at the naked Lila as she leaned forward, climbing on top of him. He remembered the three beautiful acolytes from Cliffwall, Audrey, Laurel, and Sage. They had been his first lovers, and they had given him amazing nights of pleasure, one after another, but the twisted magic of Life’s Mistress had turned those three beautiful women into monsters.
Could the opposite happen? A hardened morazeth turned into a soft and sensuous woman? As Lila bent closer to him and he felt her warm skin, smelled her musky feminine scent, he remembered how ruthless she had been, a steely trainer who forced him to do what she demanded. She had terrified him. When he looked at her now, she seemed warmer. Something had changed. She touched him with a hint of tenderness.
Tentatively, he reached up and brushed the bare skin of her back, feeling the mysterious symbols marked on her skin. As he ran his palms down her spine, he felt as if he might be reading an arcane book by touch alone.
“I did save your life, boy,” Lila said. “You owe me a reward.”
Bannon couldn’t argue with that.
CHAPTER 51
As Utros stared through the blood-tinted lens, he couldn’t tear his eyes from his beloved Majel, the woman he had longed for since leaving Orogang. He had vowed to conquer the world for her husband, but his heart belonged to her. He remembered her pointed chin and delicate nose, the full lips he had kissed so many times.
Now, she was a horror, her entire face peeled off, her eyes intact, but with the lids flayed away so she could watch what her husband did to her body. Her jaw muscles were leathery red strips. As she spoke, her teeth clacked together, exposing her meaty tongue. “Utros, my love! You called for me.”
He stared through the lens, stricken. Even Majel’s spirit was mutilated, an eternal reminder that Kurgan had personally imposed this punishment upon her.
“Utros, why don’t you speak to me?” she pleaded, coming closer to the other side of the glass. “You called me through the veil.”
Despite the shocking wounds, he could see Majel in her eyes, the woman he had caressed and loved, and it was still her voice calling to him. “Oh, Majel…” he said. “Keeper and spirits, what has he done to you?”
“The form of a spirit doesn’t matter,” she said. “What counts is the heart and soul.”
Ava and Ruva stood back watching this conversation, fascinated by the shadowed souls lurking in the greenish mists behind the lens.
The general’s focus remained on his beloved, and he heard the wisdom in her words. “It’s been so long, Majel,” he said, in a quiet voice. “I left Orogang and conquered many lands, as I swore to do. We swept across the Old World and sent reports back to the capital. I did what Iron Fang commanded … but I missed you so much.”