He cried out, a noise both of passion and of frustration.
‘Damn you!” he whispered as he collapsed across my body. ” Damn you, Cornelia!”
‘No!” I opened my eyes, aghast at what I had done, and clasped his face between my hands. “Coel, I—”
And then his face was torn from my hands by a great black shadow that loomed over us, and I saw a glint of metal that swept in a vicious arc across Coel’s throat, then his body, still deep within mine, convulsed, and I screamed, and blood spurted over me in a hot, sticky flood.
Brutus took a firmer grip on Coel’s hair, then he tore him from me, tearing him painfully out from me, and all I could do was cry, “No! No! Oh, gods, Brutus, no! Not Coel !”
Not Coel, who had always comforted me, and whose only crime had been to love me too much.
Not Coel, for if Coel died, then it would be my fault, as so many other deaths had been my fault…
but this one, Coel’s death, would be the worst of all, it would be a catastrophe, and if Coel died because of me then I thought I would lose my mind.
I scrambled to the edge of the bed, one tiny part of my mind knowing it was far too late, but the larger part desperately believing that I could still make a difference… I scrambled to the edge of the bed just in time to see Brutus dash Coel to the floor and bury his blade in his belly.
It was a fruitless gesture, for by that time Coel was already dead.
‘NO, BRUTUS,” I KEPT SAYING. “PLEASE, NO… NO… not Coel… not Coel.”
He turned to me, raging. “Whore! I have always known this!”
I could not take my eyes from Coel, and I tried to scramble down to the floor to try to close that gaping wound in his throat, to hold together his belly, to close his sweet, loving eyes, but Brutus hit me, and I fell backward so violently my head cracked against the stone wall.
‘I have had enough of you and your treacherous, whorish ways!” he screamed at me—gods, I could feel his spittle fleck my face. “Enough! I renounce you. You are no wife to me, no fit mother for my son, no fit mother for that bastard child in your belly!”
‘No, she is your daughter! She—”
‘You have never been a wife to me,” he continued, not acknowledging what I’d said. “You were a whore in your father’s court, and—”
‘I was a virgin when you took me, you know that!”
He hit me again. “Whore’s tricks, for all I know. Who else have you taken behind my back?
Hicetaon? Corineus? Is Achates mine , or a hybrid of all the men you’ve had crawl between your legs?”
I was screaming now as well; incoherent, shrill shrieks designed to shut out his loathsome words.
Ofe, Hera, what had I done? Killed Coel and ruined in a single moment any chance I ever had to make Brutus love me ?
At that moment I wanted to die, and I think I would have provoked Brutus into a greater rage so that he would mercifully batter me to death had not at that moment the entire house exploded into a worse disaster than that which already gripped it.
Loth burst into the house, absorbed in a single appalled glance all that ha happened and that was still happening, then roared.
Or screamed. I am not sure. Perhaps he did both, but all I can rememb< of that instant is a shrieking, thundering sound that reverberated about tr room, shocking me into silence and making Brutus sink momentarily to h haunches before he recovered enough to swing about to face the attack.
But it never came. Not in the manner that Brutus—nor I, for that matter-expected.
Instead, Loth took a step farther into the house, stared for several Ion heartbeats at Coel’s body on the floor, raised his head, sent me a look of utt< contempt, then looked steadily at Brutus.
‘This is enough,” he said, his voice very carefully controlled. “I have ha enough. I have had enough of you, Brutus, of your Trojans, and of your dam whore-mistress Genvissa. I have had enough of that monstrosity you are builc ing atop Og’s and Mag’s sacred hills. I have had enough of your Trojan magi and your cursed Troy Game!”
His voice suddenly rose, and he took a step forward. “What evil have yo invited into your world?
What evil is that atop Og’s Hill?”
‘I have trapped evil,” Brutus said in a very even voice. He held Loth’s fu rious gaze easily, but I saw his grip alter fractionally about the hilt of his swore “I have made your land safe for you. I, and Genvissa.”
‘She is the blackest witch alive,” Loth said. “Be wary in your associatio with her.”
‘She has acted where you have failed.”
Loth turned his head and spat. “She has enslaved our gods to her ow purpose. I have had enough,” he said again. “Far and well enough.”
‘There is nothing you can do,” said Brutus. “Take your friend’s body ani get out of here.”
‘There is everything I can do,” Loth said very quietly. “I stand here to rep resent my gods, Brutus. Og and Mag.” For an instant his eyes slipped my wa> as if he expected (wanted?) me to object to his
representation of Mag. “I chal lenge your right to settle here, Brutus. I challenge your right to assume th place of Kingman. I challenge your right to live.”
“What?”
‘I challenge you on behalf of Og and Mag, who are so crippled they canno speak for themselves.
They want you gone, Brutus, as do I. Will you meet me?
“Are you challenging me to a combat?”
Loth’s mouth trembled very slightly, as if he were shaken by Brutus’ incre dulity. “Yes. Tomorrow at dawn. On Og’s Hill.”
‘You cannot be serious.”
‘Whoever wins will have indisputable right to this land.”
‘Ye gods,” Brutus muttered, “it might be worth it just to get your glowering face out of my life.”
‘No!” I cried, belatedly realizing I still lay naked atop the tumbled bed. I pulled a wrap about me, and slid out of the bed to my feet. “Loth, no! He will kill you!”
Brutus whipped about to me. “You speak on Loth’s behalf?” I knew what he was thinking—I’d had Loth as well. At that moment I wished that I actually had, because then I could have thrown it back in Brutus’ face.
‘Have you ever spoken on my behalf?” I said quietly. And then, as I suppose it must have been fated, Genvissa walked calmly and serenely into the house.
Her serenity lasted as long as it took her to spot Coel’s body. “Brutus?” she whispered, raising her eyes to him. “You killed Coef?” My stomach turned over as I realized the extent of her manipulations. All this had been planned. Every last bit of it, but for my death, not Coel’s.
Brutus, the fool, missed the implications of his lover’s words. “And look what I have received for it,”
he said, waving his bloodied sword toward Loth. “He wishes to fight me in combat for my right to sit as Kingman by your side. Very well then. Tomorrow.” He paused, his chilling gaze riveted to Loth’s face.
“In the labyrinth atop Og’s Hill.”
Genvissa stared at him, then turned to look at Loth, still glowering at Brutus.
Then, very, very softly, she began to laugh.
FOC1ROTH SAT INHIS FOREST, CHILLED AND NUMBED and angry and heartsore, mourning his friend and pledging revenge.
But how? Loth was not trained as a warrior; Brutus would slaughter him in a moment.
Loth had no power, or very little of it. There was no Og magic to throw at Brutus, and slow his sword arm.
And Brutus had Genvissa. Genvissa would give him everything she had, and Loth had to admit that
was a great deal.
He’d thrown out the challenge to Brutus in that first, terrible moment of anger and grief and frustration, without thinking about it, without thinking through the implications.
Now Coel was dead (and, oh, by Og! Loth had not even gone to Erith to comfort her!) and Loth soon would be, and then there would be no one left to counter Genvissa and her damned evil-lodestone of a Game.
Not Cornelia. Never Cornelia.
‘What can I do?” he whispered. “What can I do?”
He had not expected an answer, but he was shocked to receive one.
There was a step in the forest, a slight sound, but nevertheless a step, and Loth sprang to his feet.
For the first time in his life, he felt afraid of the forest.
‘Who goes there?” he cried.
‘It is only I,” said a soft, sad voice, and a man stepped out from behind a tree.