“You can unwind this curse?”
“That is not what I said . . . but, well, who knows.” Eleanon pulled Ravenna closer despite her reluctance, pressing her body against his and running his hands over her shoulders and down her back.
“It is so strange to feel a woman with no wings,” he murmured. “How can you bear it?”
She struggled. “Let me go.”
“Stay.” Eleanon was pressing her more tightly against him now.
“I don’t want to .”
“What? What don’t you want?” He tried to kiss her, but Ravenna twisted her face out of the way.
“Don’t do this to me.”
“Are you not glad that I can stay this close to you? That I can touch you? That I can subvert Ishbel’s curse to this extent?” “I am glad — now leave me alone.”
Eleanon hated the arrogance in her voice. Ravenna’s haughty contempt, particularly given her current circumstances, could well outdo even the self-importance of the hated Icarii.
It made him want to hurt her, just a little bit.
And he knew precisely how to do it.
“You could be useful to me, Ravenna.”
“Leave me —”
Eleanon grabbed her face with a hand, twisting his fingers in cruelly deep, then kissed her as hard as he could. There was no passion or comfort or even much arousal in his kiss — it was meant purely to humiliate.
“You do not respond,” he said when he finally raised his mouth. “Am I not as good as the Lord of Elcho Falling?”
“Get away from me!” she hissed, and Eleanon smiled. There was fear in her voice now, stronger than her arrogance.
“I mean to investigate this curse of Ishbel’s,” he said, “as closely as I might.”
And twist it to what I want.
Ravenna was fighting back, but Eleanon still held her easily. He lifted a leg and kneed her violently in her groin, bringing her struggles to an abrupt halt as she bent double, gasping for breath, both arms now wrapped protectively about her pregnant abdomen.
He hit her again, this time using his fist to punch her in the side of her head.
Ravenna fell to the ground, moaning, half senseless, and Eleanon knelt beside her. He bent over, running his hands up and down her body, feeling her both physically and with his power, scrying out the twists and turns of Ishbel’s curse.
It was powerful. Eleanon felt it as dark bands of some gruesome material . . . blood, it was blood! . . . that wrapped about her body like a cocoon. He could slip his hands between them here and there, finding Ravenna’s vulnerable flesh, but he could not unwrap them.
No matter. He could isolate them.
“You are very lovely,” he murmured, now using a knee to prise her legs apart, “even with this cumbersome belly of yours.”
Ravenna cried out, struggling weakly, but it was of no use against Eleanon’s strength. He penetrated her body and mind, using spiteful fingers of power to probe deep into her thoughts as he also moved his body inside hers, leaving long agonising trails of hurt wherever he went.
Ravenna screamed, then again, and then yet again, unable to bear the pain.
Eleanon smiled. He enjoyed her agony and was glad it was necessary in order to freeze a little bit of Ishbel’s curse into uselessness.
“You think Ishbel your enemy,” he said, finally rising from her body, “but she is nothing compared to the enemy I will become if you do not do as I command.”
He stood, adjusting his clothing and looking at Ravenna as she wrapped herself about her belly, sobbing.
“I have frozen the part of Ishbel’s curse that isolated you from others,” Eleanon said conversationally. “People will still feel uncomfortable about you and wish to move away from you, but you will be able to stay in their presence. The other aspects of her curse — your isolation from the Land of Dreams and the disinheritance of your son — remain in place.”
Eleanon paused. “Don’t wander too far away, Ravenna. Sooner or later I am going to be needing you. Who knows, you may get the chance to see your true love once again. Maybe he’ll reconsider this time.”
Chapter 12
Elcho Falling
Georgdi stood on the balcony, bathed in the mid-morning sun. Across the lake, Armat’s former military camp seethed with Lealfast. They glinted in the sun, the lines of frost on their eyebrows and on the ridges of their wings sending shimmers of light sparking into the air and surrounding countryside.
It was a stunning spectacle, but it did nothing to lighten Georgdi’s mood.
Then he tensed in alarm, straightening his back and sliding his hand down to the knife in his belt.
A window had appeared in the air some two or three paces out from the edge of the balcony. In that window sat a young dark-haired man, regarding Georgdi with considerable amusement.
Georgdi allowed himself to relax slightly, although he rested his hand on his hip, close to the knife.
“You must be Josia,” he said.
“Indeed,” said Josia, “and it is with you I must chat now that Axis has vanished.” Something crossed Josia’s face, almost irritation, but then the smile returned. “Do things go well in Elcho Falling, Georgdi?”
Georgdi gave a short laugh. “We eat, dance and are merry,” he said. “Light entertainments are all that is left to us now that we lie under such heavy siege.”
“It must be galling to you, sir, to be so confined.”
“I am an adaptable man.” Georgdi injected a light tone into his voice, wondering what Josia wanted. There was something about the man that riled Georgdi, but he couldn’t put a name to it, and he thought it must be just a projection of his frustration at being, indeed, so confined within Elcho Falling.
He was an Outlander, born and bred for the vast open spaces of the plains, and house confinement of any description abraded his nerves.
“Do you have any news of Maximilian and Ishbel?” Georgdi said.
“Axis told you of their success at DarkGlass Mountain?”
“Yes.”
“The One is gone and all Maxel and Axis need to fret about are the approaching Skraelings and,” Josia waved a hand behind him, “these winged creatures. I am sure Axis can —”
“Do you have any news of Maximilian and Ishbel?” Georgdi asked again. Josia was really starting to irritate him, and Georgdi knew now it wasn’t just frustration at his own confinement.
He didn’t like the man.
“None interesting enough to relay,” Josia said. “They have begun their journey home, which shall take them a good few weeks as I am sure you realise.”
“Then is there anything you need to discuss with me?”
Josia’s mouth curved in a very small smile. “No. Not really, Georgdi. I just wanted to get your measure.”
He was gone, then, before Georgdi could even open his mouth to reply.
Gods, that man was annoying! Georgdi had no idea why Maximilian and Ishbel seemed to think him such a friend and confidante. He turned to walk back into the command chamber then he stopped suddenly, his heart thumping.
Two surprises in just a few minutes. Georgdi didn’t think he could take much more of an escalation in surprises this day.
One of Elcho Falling’s servants stood just inside the doorway. He was half shrouded in shadow so that Georgdi could not see him clearly, but he could easily make out his form.
As soon as the servant saw Georgdi react he stepped into the light, bowing his head slightly in greeting.
“And what can I do for you?” Georgdi said.
“We, too, make ourselves known to you,” said the servant.
“You need only to think your need of us and we shall be here.” “You speak for Elcho Falling itself, do you not?”
The servant bowed his head again.
“What do you think of Josia?” said Georgdi.
“We are glad he resides only in his Twisted Tower,” said the servant.
Georgdi grunted in amusement. “I had not thought of it that way, but yes .”
“Just remember that words can often be as harmful as weapons or power.”
“Is that a warning?”
Again the servant inclined his head, but in a manner that could have meant anything.
“Well,” Georgdi said, “thank you . . . I suppose.” He paused. “May I ask something? Is there any way in and out of this fortress other than by the front door?”
The servant smiled.
“There are chambers as yet undiscovered,” he said.
The servant leaned closer to Geordi and the two spoke quietly for some time.
An hour later Georgdi met with Egalion, Insharah and Ezekiel. Neither Maximilian nor Axis had consulted much with the once most senior of Isaiah’s generals, but Georgdi liked Ezekiel and valued his opinion.
“I am tired of all this sitting about,” Georgdi said, lacing his hands over his chest as he leaned back in his chair and looked at the other three.