The irony that it was his own sword that had been used to impale him did not escape him. It was perhaps more out of spite than anything that he had searched for an appropriate belt and sheath for the blade. The ruins of what little of the keep had transferred over to this wretched world had left little for him to rummage through while the necromancer slept, but he had been able to find clothing in a chest that still possessed its enchantments to keep its contents fresh and new and the sheath. Sadly, the armory and battlements had not survived the collision of realms which left him woefully bare of weapons.
He might have had them still around where he had fallen had he not been betrayed as he was joining his victory feast.
His hand curled into a fist at the memory of his final moments as he looked up into his younger brother’s smirking face. Only the gods knew what fate became of his brother, but he sincerely hoped that Garwin still lived, but only so that he might look him in the eye and return the favor. Had Garwin seized command and taken the warriors in search of their mother? Ashul personally hoped that their mother and her entire castle was vaporized in the transference much as the greater part of his own castle. He did not wish to think of her enjoying the passage of ages, without a care for her firstborn son whom she betrothed and sent away as a royal breeder to the Lady Hagnala.
His skin still crawled at the memory of being held down by trusted guards as his queen claimed him. But he had endured it all with the pretense of being a properly submissive male, enduring all the abuse when he failed again and again to breed her, all the while his hatred growing as he waited like a spider crouched in its web until she agreed to place him in control of her elite guard.
His lips curved into a hard smile. Thinking she could control him had been her first mistake. Placing him in authority over her most trusted and powerful guards had been her second. Hagnala had been quite surprised when he overtook the castle with her own guards cutting down all opposition. He had not even given her an opportunity to plead for her wretched life before he took it before his brother’s startled eyes.
Garwin had been surprised, but Ashul had not believed that his brother would have turned against him, much less murder him at his own celebratory feast. At least he had lived long enough to enjoy the terror in the younger male’s eyes as the fabric of their realm tore apart around them moments later. Whatever happened after that, he did not know except that he awoke to a rotting keep without a trace of any of his kin anywhere, and a human female standing over him.
A quiet snarl escaped from between his gritted teeth. He had expected to be brought back by one of the high mages of Hagnala’s court. There was one among them who was a powerful necromancer. He had not expected…her.
Ashul’s lip curled in distaste as he focused contemptuously on the female walking ahead of him. He could scarcely believe that he had escaped servitude of one female just to end up under the control of another—a puny, weak, sickly-looking human at that, who did not even possess the greater powers of necromancy by her own admission. She was disturbingly pale for her species, and even against the fair ones she was ghastly compared to their luminous beauty. It was insulting to his pride that she held him under her yoke. It enraged him as much as his inability to kill her. His gaze narrowed on her neck. It would be so easy to snap—or it should have been if his body had not betrayed him. That he had sworn an oath to never be controlled by a female again was intolerable!
What was worse, he did not understand her game. She enslaved him to her and yet provided him with her cloak with which to cover himself… to what purpose? His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he watched her pick her way uphill, her hand outstretched to balance on the boulders scattered over the terrain. A more cunning female would have seen him stripped of his clothing and weapons so that he was forced to depend on her protection. Nor would such a female walk ahead as if they were merely traveling companions, her back to him as if he were no threat. She would have seen to it that he understood his place and broke him as assuredly as Hagnala had attempted to do.
She clearly intended for him to be unsettled by her gift of the cloak. Drow elves being a subterranean race, there had been nothing of the like within the remaining rooms of the keep. She would have realized that and sought to set him off balance by her gift rather than forcing him to walk in the sun. He understood that most beings would be grateful for what seemed to be a kindness, but the tiny glimmer of gratitude that he felt was but a grain of sand amid his anger and suspicion.
Females did nothing out of kindness and had taught him well to never show such weakness.
As he continued his scrutiny, his steps slowed. It was curious that she did not appear to even notice that he was beginning to lag behind. The human claimed that he was leashed to her, but other than his inability to attack her, he did not feel restrained. He slowed further, his pace coming to a crawl as his eyes narrowed. She seemed oblivious to the growing distance between them. Perhaps he was not as tied to her as she believed. Having a certain level of protection against him did not necessarily mean that he was chained to her as she led him to believe. She might not even be aware of it herself. She was far too young in human years to have all the necessary education. It was no wonder that she lacked the more powerful necromantic magics.
More to the point, if she truly leashed him to her, he should be feelingsomethingat the growing distance… should he not?
Ashul’s ear twitched and he stepped back a pace, and then another. Still nothing. He smirked and turned away with quick, silent steps. Unlike her slow, clumsy crawl up the mountainside, he had the nimble gait of his species that allowed him to slip easily over the rocks.
A grin slowly spread across his face as he picked up speed, leaping from rock to rock as he scanned his surroundings. He would not go back to the keep. The place was useless to him now, though the decapitated statues had given him some pleasure to look upon in memory of knocking each and every one down. No, he would head south. He would set out to find his brother, but first he would acquire a stronghold and raise his own force. He did not believe he would be so fortunate to find many of his own kind wandering the above world, but there were powerful monsters he could ally with.
Then the blood will run.
His smile widening with a vicious need to hunt and destroy, he ran, leaping effortlessly over deep fissures in the rocky ground. His legs pumped with exhilarating energy as he raced toward a larger crevice, his heart soaring with the rush of energy running through him. The muscles of his legs coiled, and he sprung and something suddenly tightened within him with an alarming ripple—and he flew back midair with a wrenching sensation that sent him sailing to the ground.
Lying on the stony ground, Ashul growled helplessly, his eyes tearing as they squinted at the sun shining through the breaks in the clouds above him. Pain ran along his back and limbs, and a greater pain echoed from his chest as if something had been viciously yanked. A tether that caused him a soul-deep agony. His fingers curling over his chest, he slowly pushed himself to a seated position and then stood with a pained grunt. With a curse, he kicked a stone, sending it flying as he snarled and attacked another. It was only when he grew bored with venting his anger on the rocks that he reluctantly turned back and began to pick his way up the mountain toward the necromancer.
Within surprisingly little time, he rose over a rise and caught sight of her seated on a boulder, squinting back at him. Her pale hair wafted around her like spun silk, but her skin was streaked with a deepening red everywhere it was exposed. His brow furrowed as he drew closer and he clutched the cloak, expecting that she would demand it from him in punishment. But she did not. She gave him an amused smile, though it was tight, and shook her head.
“Didn’t work out like you thought it would, did it? Did you think I was lying about the leash?”
He stiffened warily. “Not lying, but mistaken,” he growled back, rubbing at his chest. “I felt naught… until the last minute.”
The human—Robyn, he recalled—chuckled, her lips pulling up in a genuine smile that brought to mind the comradery he had felt among those under his command.
“It’s not supposed to be uncomfortable or even unpleasant. Normally, resurrection is merely an aid to help those souls killed before their time. Often warriors who have things that they must accomplish. There’s a need for a small distance, especially when it comes to sleeping arrangements.” Her nose wrinkled as if considering something unpleasant, and she snorted with amusement as she slid off the boulder. “I don’t think having to share a bed would be widely appreciated, especially when warriors after battle have other, ah, interests… that occupy their mind.” She pinned him with a direct look. “Your leash is long enough to make combat and personal needs easy, but you can’t outrun it.”
Ashul’s lips thinned with displeasure, but he nodded, suspicious that she might still attempt to punish him. “As you say then. I will tolerate this ‘leash’ but only at its outer limits. I will not be some pet for you to control and set upon your enemies.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Excellent. I don’t need to draw further attention to myself than necessary. The less we appear to be together, the more comfortable it will be.”
An irrational anger rose within him with a vague feeling of insult.Shedid not wish to be seen withhim? He would not give her such satisfaction.
With a growl, he kept pace at her side, his gaze cutting to her suspiciously every so often to make sure she did not have some trick to leave him trailing behind where she could forget about him. It was an irrational desire, but by the dark goddess, he would not be dismissed and forgotten. If he could not escape her, then he would make certain that his “mistress” could not escape him.
ChapterFour
Ashul seethed as one day passed into the next. Though it gave him some small amusement to stay close to her and thus be a source of unpleasantness for her, it was equally unpleasant for him. And why did she never cease to smell of night-blooming jasmine? It tormented him with an unnatural desire for one such as herself, making his cock ache at her nearness. He could make excuses and pretend it was merely that from the rear that she appeared almost as a drow herself when he could not see the pale flesh of her face, but he would by lying to himself since even that did not seem to cool his ardor any longer.
Thank the Dark Ones that he had not disgraced himself by fully engorging, but he loathed every second that he was unable to escape his uncomfortable fascination that made him think unnatural, horrific things about the female he found so repugnant. It melted away the distaste he felt at the sight of her as he became more and more accustomed to her appearance.