Marguerite stopped dead the instant she saw Noah’s back. All three women slept naked—there was no linen to hide what was happening to Noah.
It looked as if something frenzied writhed within Noah’s body. On either side of her spine ran three parallel gouges, as if some creature was raking her with its claws from within.
As Marguerite and Kate watched, appalled, the gouges slowly traced downwards towards Noah’s buttocks.
Noah convulsed, then screamed once more, her hands trying to reach behind her body to claw at her back.
Marguerite and Kate each grabbed at Noah’s hands and arms, trying to push her down to the bed.
“Yes!” Noah screeched as, still bucking about wildly on the bed, she fought off both Marguerite and Kate. “Yes! I will come! I will come!”
Suddenly she collapsed to the bed, moaning and weeping.
Marguerite rolled her over so she lay on her side, facing Kate.
The terrible gouges had turned purple, filling with blood under the skin, but at least they had stopped gouging.
“Sweet heavens, Noah…” Marguerite drifted to a stop. She had no doubts as to what had caused Noah’s agony.
“Weyland…” Noah managed. “Weyland has called me to him…he wanted me to know…what would happen…if I didn’t…” She stopped, moaning.
“Mama.”
Noah’s cries had woken the children—now Catling stood in the doorway. Her face was calm; she was not scared, not even curious.
She knew precisely what had just happened.
Noah managed to raise her face, just enough to see her daughter. “You said once you could help with the imp,” she said. “Stop him, please…take away the pain.”
“No,” said Catling.
Noah let out a tiny sob, turning her face away from Catling, but Marguerite and Kate stared uncomprehendingly at the small girl.
“Why not?” said Kate. “Noah has told us of how you can manipulate the imp. Catling, surely you can—”
“I cannot,” said Catling. “If I turn the imp now, if I make him stop hurting my mother, then Weyland will know. It is better that he doesn’t realise. It is better that he think his imp under his full control.”
Noah let out a sound that was half sob, half hiss. She still had her face turned away from Catling. “She is right,” she said, very softly. “It is better that Weyland does not know.”
Marguerite did not look away from Catling. “You can surely ease your mother’s pain, though. How will Weyland know of that? Aid her, Catling.”
“I cannot,” the girl said yet one more time. “The hurt has been caused. I cannot take that back. Neither I nor the imp has healing powers.”
Marguerite muttered something under her breath, then leaned her mouth close to Noah’s ear. “I will help, darling,” she whispered, and felt Noah tremble under her hand.
“But only this night,” Noah whispered, “for in the morning I shall have to leave.”
“No,” said Marguerite. “Surely you can—”
She stopped appalled, as Noah screamed again. Even Catling flinched as her mother twisted frenziedly about the bed.
“You will leave in the morning,” Marguerite ground out, understanding what was required.
And, as suddenly as she had started, Noah fell still, although she continued to moan.
Marguerite met Kate’s eyes above Noah’s now prone figure. “Noah shall leave in the morning,” she said, “but for now we can help.”
Weyland sat in the kitchen, still staring sightlessly, Jane crumpled unconscious at his feet.
He’d had to do it. He’d needed to impress his authority upon Noah, most particularly after their conversation in the iciness of Woburn village.
But, oh, her screams.
He’d had to do it. Charles would be here soon, and Weyland did not want to wait until he’d set foot in England to snatch at Noah. That might have been way too late.
Weyland wanted to be sure.
But, oh, her screams.
Abruptly he stood, stepping over Jane’s prone form as he strode for the door and the stairs to his Idyll. Once Noah was with him, he would make sure she understood that every time she crossed him she would endure similar agony. Goddess or not, it didn’t matter. Once the imps received their commands, then they…nibbled.
“She will learn soon enough,” he muttered to himself, climbing the stairs three at a time. “She will learn to obey me, to do my will, and then there will be no need for the pain.”
The Hague, Holland
Catharine woke, screaming. Charles lurched upright, sure that Weyland Orr had somehow managed to find his way under the sheets, and was even now engaged in ripping Catharine apart.
The door to the bedchamber opened, and several men stumbled in: a valet, a guardsman and a passing nobleman. The valet carried a candle, and by its light Charles was able to see that Catharine was whole, if distressed.
He grabbed at the sheet and pulled it modestly over Catharine’s naked breasts.
“My love…what is it? Wake up, a nightmare only, I assure you. Wake up!”
Catharine blinked, and seemed to come somewhat to her senses. Her hair was tumbled about her shoulders, her face pale, her eyes white and frightened. “Charles?”
“A nightmare,” he said, but there was an underlying question to his voice.
“A nightmare…” Catharine said, her voice as laden with meaning as his had been, and she looked significantly at the three men who now stood gape-mouthed at the side of the bed.
Charles turned to them, and smiled. “All is well, my friends. Catharine no doubt dreamed she’d been married to some German toad instead of to me. You may leave the candle, John, if you please.”
There was polite laughter from the three, and they bowed, murmured a few well chosen words appropriate to the occasion, and, the valet placing the candle on a table close to the bed, exited the chamber, closing the door behind them.
“Gods, Catharine, what has happened?”
“Weyland Orr has called Noah to him. He woke her, Charles, with pain so terrible that I felt a glimmer of it from this distance.”
Charles had leapt from the bed as she spoke, and now paced naked to and fro at its foot. “Weyland has called Noah to him? But I have not yet set foot in England! Long Tom said he would not do this until I had set foot in England!”
“Charles—”
“Long Tom said he would not touch her until I had set foot in England!”
“Charles—”
“Catharine, we were supposed to save her! We—”
“Charles!”
He stopped his pacing, and stared at her.
“Send for Louis,” Catharine said. “Now.”
Charles stared one moment longer, then gave a curt nod, and strode for the door.
Louis managed not to run as he made for the royal bedchamber, but it took all of his self-control. There might be many reasons Charles would send for him in the middle of the night, and Louis could not think of a single positive one.
The valet hurrying at his side sent Louis a sidelong glance, and Louis supposed that within the hour most of the people at Charles’ court would know that the king had sent for his favourite French companion in the midst of the night.
Why? they’d whisper. Could our king not manage to service his wife as he ought, and thus called for de Silva? If the queen be pregnant this time next month, should we be watching at the child’s birth to see if it cries in French, or in English?
Louis didn’t give a damn about the undoubtedly ribald whispers. All he wanted was to discover the reason for the summons.
Finally they reached their destination. There was a small crowd standing about outside the bedchamber—Louis could see two physicians, as well as Sir Edward Hyde, five Dutch noblemen, three serving girls and at least seven guardsmen.
“Allow us passage!” the valet cried dramatically. He threw open the door and gestured Louis to enter.
Then, thankfully, he was inside, the door closed behind him, and he could see Charles sitting on the edge of the bed, and Catharine in its centre, her pretty face pale and patently upset.
“What?” Louis said, starting towards the bed.
“Weyland Orr has taken Noah,” Charles replied, and Louis stopped dead, still only halfway to the bed, his face slack in shock. “But—”
“I know, I know,” Charles said, standing. “Not until I set foot in England, Long Tom said. But when has Asterion ever done what anyone else has planned for him? No, he must have suspected we’d try to rescue her ourselves, and so has forestalled us.”
Louis looked to Catharine. “You felt this?”
She gave a single nod. “The imp…such pain…she can’t resist. She must to London immediately.”
Louis paled. “She is still in Woburn village?”
“Yes,” said Catharine. “But I have no doubt she’ll leave soon, in the morning. She can’t go through an attack like that again. If she doesn’t move, Weyland will…”
Charles and Louis locked eyes, thinking over that Weyland will…