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He appeared as she knew He would. Their bargain had been struck, but tonight she’d failed and there was a price yet to be paid for her power. Even though she’d faithfully sent him souls, that mouthy kitchen boy, Collin Fin, her father, and the whore’s child, to regularly renew the gift, the souls she’d promised this night had not been delivered.
Kneeling in the diamond of silver sand and white candles, Sarene bowed her head respectfully. As she did so, the moonstone pendant slipped from the neck of her shift, a suddenly heavy weight, like a lodestone around her neck dragging her face towards the floor. She gritted her teeth and fought against its pull. She might be contrite, but she would not grovel.
Not even before Him.
“My lord,” she began, “I have a request of thee. More power do I seek.”
“You seek more, when you have not paid the price for the last? I think not, mortal. The time for requests is over.”
Sarene felt her ire rising. “I don’t understand why you didn’t just take the little horror. You are Consort of the Goddess, yet you let that voiceless whore thwart you? For her interference, take her life as payment instead. Our bargain will be comple—”
The room grew icy and the candle flames shrank to pinpoints of diamond-hard light. The Consort loomed above her, suddenly huge and dreadful in his wrath. Sarene was jerked to her feet and he seized the pendant in one fist. With a quick jerk, he ripped it from her throat, effortlessly snapping the delicate links. The power he had given her went with it and she felt the loss like a sucking void in the center of her chest.
“Her life is not yours to offer! You are a treacherous and deceitful wench. As retribution, I take back the power I have gifted you. Do not summon me again.” Dusan let her drop.
And then he was gone and she was alone amidst the scattered sand and smoking wax.
* * *
The child had survived.
Two months early, a hard labor, and yet he lived. The poison he’d gotten from the old hag above The Cauldron all those months ago had been less effective than she’d promised. If she weren’t already dead, he’d kill her himself. There was some solace to be found in the thought of her suffering in Diu for all eternity, however.
Deceitful whore.
Jordin Alycon sat back in his chair, goblet in hand, and stared pensively into the fire. Porcus, Wastrel, and Le’Quar had failed him too, and he’d dealt with them as he did everyone who failed him. His faithless wife had been the first to learn that lesson, and her mind had never been the same after meeting Pasusabael.
Her body, though, was still exquisite and he enjoyed it frequently. He should have brought her with him. Perhaps he’d send for her in the morning…
So, his nephew lived as did his sister, and things must go on as they’d been planned. A pity, but he was resourceful enough to make this work to his advantage. He’d offer his comfort and his services to Aelani on the morrow and once he’d shown he had nothing but the realm’s best interest at heart, he would make his move. Anya would go back to her precious Temple, Sarene would be married off to the boring Reord in the spring, and once Kylan was a bit older, he’d give her to Min Ha or Gaherith, whichever proved to be most lucrative.
Oh yes, he could make this work quite nicely.
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