―Don‘t you understand, Caela?‖ he spat. ―Silvius is not my father, nor Brutus‘ father.‖ He
paused, and in that instant, seeing the terror in his eyes, I suddenly knew what he was going to
say.
I went cold, frozen with horror.
“Silvius is Asterion. Not only Aldred, although Asterion certainly used Aldred‘s body as
he needed. Silvius is Asterion also. I tasted it then, in the corruption in your mouth. You are as much his as is Swanne.‖
―No.‖ I gasped, taking yet another step back. My stomach coiled and then clenched, and I
thought I might vomit. ―No!‖
―Yes, God curse you again, Caela! How much does he know?”
I could not think. My world had been torn apart around me.
William had walked up to me, and now he grabbed my shoulders, giving me a little
shake. ―How much does he know?‖ he said again.
―Silvius cannot be…he cannot be…‖
“How much does he know?”
―Many things,‖ I managed to whisper, my mind churning. ―Saeweald and I…we trusted
him. We trusted him. He knew so much that…things only Silvius could have known…‖
―And what did you know of what Silvius knew? Answer me that?‖
―He knew the Game…as he would, being your father…‖
―No one knows the Game better than Asterion. And no one knows it less than you, or
Saeweald. You were his willing fools. You knew nothing of Silvius, and nothing of Asterion,
save for their existence.‖ His mouth twisted, and I could see contempt burning in his eyes. ―All
he had to do was come to you, wearing my face, and say, ‗I hated Brutus, too. I was his victim,
too. I want to help.‘ And you fell into his arms. Literally. You were so grateful you lay with
him.‖
He grunted, disgusted, and pushed me away. ―You lay with Asterion. You stupid, sorry
bitch, Caela. What have you done?‖
I could say nothing immediately. All I could do was stare at him, appalled more at myself
than what he‘d said about Silvius. One thing stuck in my mind—how Silvius had known all
about glamours.
Of course he knew, because he used them continually himself.
Eventually, running my tongue over my lips to soften the dryness, I managed to speak.
―How did you know?‖
―When I was Brutus, and you Cornelia, I had a vision. I saw you lying with a man in the
stone hall, a man you loved. I could not then see his face, but as your loving continued, he
changed, changed into Asterion, and before my eyes he murdered you. You accepted him into
your body, thinking here was a man who loved you, and he took that and murdered you with it.‖
He paused. ―The night you lay with Silvius I again saw it in vision, save that this time I
did see the man‘s face. My father—or at least a glamour of him.‖
I was shaking my head, desperate to deny what he was saying, but William continued.
―And last night I
saw him, he who pretends to be my father. I spoke to him of my mother and his wife,
Claudia. He talked of her as well.‖
―I do not understand.‖
―My mother‘s name was Lavinia. My father would have known that. Asterion would
not.‖
I raised trembling hands to my face, finally facing the fact that William might be
speaking the truth.
―He does not know where the bands are,‖ I said. ―Silvius never knew.‖
He almost spat in my face. ―He doesn‘t need to know where they are. He has you, Caela.
He is going to reel you in at any moment. You are his creature. You will take him to them.‖
He stopped, his face roiling in contempt, and suddenly the full enormity of what he‘d
revealed hit me.
Everything I‘d done had been a jest. All those times I‘d laughed with Silvius about
fooling Asterion. All the times I‘d confided in him.
I remembered in a bolt of stunning clarity how Silvius had made such a point of making
me agree that I lay with him freely, that it was my own choice. How he insisted that I had to
come to him as myself, and not as Damson.
I remembered how he‘d never appeared with me, or Saeweald or Judith or anyone else
close to me, when he was within Aldred‘s body.
And I‘d given myself to him. Freely. I had given Asterion not only me, but Eaving…this
land.
When I‘d become Eaving I‘d felt the shadow which hung over the land, the blight that
tainted it. I‘d thought that shadow and blight was Swanne. I was wrong.
It was me.
―He has you, thus he has the bands,‖ William said softly, driving home each word with
cruel intent. ―He has Swanne, the Mistress of the Labyrinth. He has the Game, Caela, in his
hands, and you and Swanne have given it to him.‖
I gagged, nausea suddenly overwhelming me.
There was a step behind me, and strong hands seized my body and held it back hard
against foul, muscular flesh.
And then a voice spoke, its breath caressing my cheek, its sound filling the chamber.
―Not God‘s Concubine at all,‖ said Asterion, ―but mine.‖
TWENTY-TWO
―Not God‘s Concubine at all,‖ said Asterion, ―but mine.‖
William sagged, grabbing at one of the plinths for support, only at this moment finally
allowing himself to believe what he had shouted at Caela: that she‘d given herself to Asterion,
that she was his creature as much as Swanne.
He‘d wanted her to somehow deny it, perhaps explain it, account for the stench of
foulness he‘d tasted in her mouth as he‘d tasted it in Swanne‘s.
But she was Asterion‘s creature. Both of them. Asterion‘s.
The Minotaur had his eyes fixed on William, kept them on the man, even as he lowered
his head and nuzzled at Caela‘s neck as a lover might.
Caela did not move, but she stared at William, and in those eyes William saw terror, and
guilt, and hopelessness, and desperation.
And something else.
An entreaty.
No!
Please, she begged him with her eyes as Asterion‘s mouth moved to the back of her neck,
then into her hair, a faint trail of saliva clinging to her skin where his mouth had been. Please!
Please!
No!
Gods, do this if you never do anything else for me, my love.
And it was that ―my love‖ that persuaded him. That, and the fact that Caela resisted,
where Swanne had succumbed.
―Caela,‖ William said and, stepping forward, snatched Caela from Asterion‘s surprised
hold.
―Caela.‖
Then, before the Minotaur could move, William lowered his head, kissed Caela as
fiercely as he could and, as she grabbed at him, sank his sword deep into her belly.
Caela!
Asterion watched Caela, still somehow alive, sink to the floor, the blood pumping from
her belly, saw the expression of torment on William‘s face—and laughed.
Caela lifted a bloody hand and grabbed at William‘s wrist, her eyes locked into his, her
lips moving soundlessly.
―What?‖ said Asterion, still chortling. ―You think that will save you, and your Game?
She‘ll only be reborn, fool, at my behest, and then I shall have her. She shall be mine, all mine—mind, body and spirit.‖
He paused, and the laughter in his face and voice died as he saw that William watched
only Caela in her dying, and paid him no attention. ―Never yours. Never.‖
Caela‘s hand slipped away from William‘s wrist, and, as he tried to seize her, and lift her
up, she closed her eyes and breathed one last final sigh, blood bubbling from her mouth.
There was a moment‘s silence, a vast stillness, and then William let Caela‘s body slump
to the floor.
He took his sword, lifted it, then tossed it across the chamber towards Asterion, now
watching him warily.
―Kill me, as well,‖ William said. ―I see no reason to continue this charade.‖
But he said it to empty air.
Asterion had vanished.
TWENTY-THREE
He didn‘t know what to do with the body. Should he leave it here, in this mausoleum?
Carry it to the surface and lay it before the stunned, angry eyes of those who had cared for her?
He sank to his knees before her body, gently straightening out her limbs, his eyes
avoiding the congealing blood across her abdomen, his heart racing, his mind screaming that this
wasn‘t happening, that this hadn‘t happened, that he could not have…he could not have…
He had killed her?
―Caela,‖ William whispered.
He had killed her? No, how could that be…Brutus had constantly held his hand, and yet
Brutus had hated her.
Hadn‘t he?
William moaned, and bent forward until his forehead rested on Caela‘s still breast.
He had killed her.
That Caela herself had begged him to do so was of no matter. He had killed her.
―Gods…gods…gods…‖ he murmured, over and over, everything within him turning to
ice.
―William,‖ said a voice, and William jerked to his feet, his hands spread defensively to