Battles of Salt and Sighs by Val Saintcrowe

CHAPTER SIX

ONIVIA AND THEarmy marched on the land until they came to a walled fortress, something that might be termed a villa, but that did not resemble the villae of the islands. They were received there and the militem set up tents in the courtyard, but the officers were given shelter inside the house.

Onivia was summoned to Larent’s room, but not before she heard whispers that this precise fortress was where—until just a day ago—the Croith had been waiting for her sister. They had just taken a train north to the capital and she had missed them.

This was too much for her, and she was unable to suppress her tears when she was thrust into Larent’s chambers.

The rooms were vast compared to the size of the tent. He had an outer sitting room and an inner bedchamber. There was a fire burning, and there were shelves filled with books built into the wall.

Larent saw the tears glittering in her eyes and he flinched.

This made something rise in her. She didn’t understand the fae centurion, and she did not like him, but he felt some kind of guilt for his bad behavior, and perhaps she could use this against him somehow.

So, she decided not to squelch her tears after all.

Instead, she threw herself down on a chair in the sitting room and gave in to them with abandon, sobbing loudly and with her whole body. It wasn’t difficult. She wasn’t faking them. She had much to sob over.

He gave her a handkerchief, and his voice was gentle. “It’s all right. I have no plans of touching you.”

She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. “W-well, you sent for me.”

“You’ll have to stay here,” he said. “At least a few nights, at any rate. But if you can behave yourself, you don’t even have to sleep in the bed, you can stretch out on a couch here. Do I have to tie you up so that you don’t attempt escape?”

She sneered at him. “What do you think?”

“Where do you even want to go, domina?” he said, eyeing her with pity in his eyes. “You can’t go home. It’s across the ocean.”

She clenched her hand around his handkerchief. “There are ships.”

“True, but you have no means to pay for passage,” he said.

“I could stowaway.”

“And if they discovered you? A woman alone? What do you think they’d do with you?”

“Nothing worse than what is being done to me here,” she snapped.

His mouth flattened.

She sighed, loosening her grip on the handkerchief. “Truly, I don’t know why I am pursuing this line of conversation. I do not wish to go home. There is nothing for me there.” With her family all dead or captured, no one would inherit the villa. She imagined their own slaves would revolt within a matter of weeks, if they had not already done so. The villa was gone. Her home was gone.

“No, not home,” he said. “To your sister.”

“She was here. As recently as yesterday, I am told. But I missed her.” Her voice broke and her lower lip began to tremble.

“I see.” He regarded her for several moments, brow furrowed, contemplating something. Abruptly, he crossed the room to the shelves on the wall. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books. “I don’t know how long we’ll be here, but with winter coming in, it’s possible that we’ll be settled in this fortress for months, only leaving to go out for short distance strikes here and there. It could be a welcome arrangement for both of us.”

“No, there is nothing welcome—”

“You wish to free your sister.” He rounded on her, raising his eyebrows.

She licked her lips. “I’m not going to admit—”

“How?”

She didn’t say anything.

“You are not strong, domina, and you have no skill with weapons. You have no magic, unlike your sister, though I suppose you could, as you have the same pedigree, but if you did, it likely would have shown itself by now. Even so, the Seelie magic is hardly a threat, which is why the Seelie were crushed by the humans so easily hundreds of years ago.”

“What?” She sat up straighter, shaking her head at him. “The Seelie helped the humans to imprison your court, the Unseelie. And then they left—”

“For a magical realm, never to be seen again.” He nodded sagely. “Yes, as races of people often do, just abscond to magical realms.” This was like before, when he had been patronizing, but it was worse, because it wasn’t a taunt, exactly, there was a sort of gentleness behind it, that pity again.

She got up out of the chair where she was sitting. “They did. Everyone says so.”

“The humans slaughtered the Seelie fae, who were uniquely unequipped to fight back, their magic mostly used to grow things and heal things and do all manner of sunny, happy activities.” He snorted. “They liked the women, of course, all the big-eyed, slender, yellow-haired fae.” He crossed the room and picked up her own hair, which wasn’t quite as flaxen as her sister’s, but could not truly be termed dark.

“You said you wouldn’t touch me.”

He let it drop. “Somewhere back in your father’s family tree, some human took a fae to wife, and somewhere back in your mother’s, the same thing happened, and when the two of them made children together, the fae magic bloomed in at least one of their offspring. So, here we are, domina, both half-breeds.” He gave her a wry smile.

“That’s not at all what happened,” she said softly.

“Well, it’s easier to justify the wholesale enslavement and torture of an entire race if you convince yourself it’s for the greater good,” he said in that same gentle voice. “Of course, we death fae must be evil. It’s not as if you humans would have kept us on as property only because of the economic benefits.”

It was her turn to flinch. She had once spent an entire afternoon explaining to Magdalia about the reasons that slave labor was cheaper than those strange new machines they were selling on the mainland of the empire.

“I know it’s not entirely your fault, domina,” he murmured. “You have never known anything but what they told you. So, I take no pleasure in your suffering.” He sighed. “But we seem to have gotten off topic. Your sister. You wish to rescue her, but you must realize that’s impossible.”

She didn’t speak, but she shook her head.

“Let’s assume that you can even get out of this fortress,” he said. “Even though that, in and of itself, is highly suspect. But let’s say you can evade the entire encampment of fae soldiers and get beyond the wall. Winter is coming. You’ve spent time in the capital, I’ve heard, so you are not ignorant of how much fiercer winter is here in the mainlands as opposed to the islands.”

This was true. In the islands, there was never snow. The weather in the winter grew chilly, perhaps, but most crops could grow year round, even so.

The capital, however, became wickedly cold. There could be ice storms or snow could fall or any number of things. It wasn’t quite as bad there as beyond the mountains in Emmessia, but it was very cold.

“So, you would not be able to travel in such cold,” he said. “To say nothing of the fact that you have no skills in the out of doors. You do not know how to hunt, nor do you have weapons for such things. You do not know about edible plants. I doubt you can make a fire without flint, nor have you ever gathered wood for one. You are similarly unaccustomed to trekking long distances—”

“There are a number of things that I am unaccustomed to,” she interrupted. “And I have survived them. Furthermore, for my sister, there is nothing I would not endure.”

“Nothing?” He gave her a knowing smile. “Well, then, I have a proposition for you.”

She licked her lips. “I am not interested in—”

“You might as well hear me out, domina. What does that cost you?”

She glared at him, folding her arms over her chest, and then she settled back into the chair where she’d been sobbing. She let his handkerchief lay in her lap, crumpled and wet, and she regarded him expectantly.

“I can get you information about your sister,” he said. “I can even get messages passed between you. Think of something only she would know, and I will get an answer from her, and you will know it is truly your sister. I am almost entirely certain the Croith means her no harm. He wishes her magic for some prophecy or other, something I don’t know much about. I need to find out more to be sure, but I think he will keep her in the capital in relative comfort. I know there were strict orders that she was not to be harmed in any way, not used for pleasure either. So, I think you can rest on that score.”

Was this news reassuring to her? It was. It wasn’t as good as Magdalia being free, or her being with her sister to protect the girl, but it eased her fears a bit. And the prospect of communication with her sister was most welcome. But she did not understand why the centurion would propose such a thing. “You’d do this out of the kindness of your heart?”

“Of course not,” he said. “I need you to cooperate with me as I spoke of. Stop trying to run away from me, and stop… fighting me.”

Ah, it was a transaction. She was a whore to be paid in messages instead of money. “Oh, so, you’ll be fucking me for an audience again, then?”

He sighed. “It’s a possibility, but not in that way again, I don’t think. Akiel has his tastes, however.” He grimaced. “Akiel also hates me. So, possibly, he might want…” He sighed again. “But if you play the part well enough, perhaps not.”

“The part would be what?” Why was she even asking this? She couldn’t be considering it. She would never submit to him, never.

“Serve me in the dining room as the other girls do and allow me to… touch you, maybe kiss you, just… a familiarity, as if we are… that I have tamed you.” He gritted his teeth.

She shuddered in revulsion. “No.”

“That was a poor choice of words. You are not an animal, domina. You would pretend to have come to care for me, I suppose.”

“Why would I come to care for the man who helped to kill my family and helped to take my sister from me? For the man who… raped me?” At first she was afraid to say the word, but then when it broke through her lips, she found there was power in it somehow. She clung to any bit of power she could find.

He would not meet her gaze. “It happens. I’ve seen it.”

“No,” she said again.

“In any case, it would only be a ruse, and only for a few hours every day,” he said. “You would sleep here, but on that couch.” He nodded at it. “And after a few months, after winter, when we leave and march again, we will pretend that I have gotten you with child, and I’ll see to it that you’re sent to your sister. I know the Croith. He is…” He hesitated. “He is a rational man, even if he is prone to certain extremes of emotion and a preoccupation with revenge. He will see that his prized Seelie girl will be much easier to work with if he provides her with the company of her beloved sister. He’ll welcome you.”

“But I won’t be with child.”

“No, you won’t, so you’ll bleed. And when you do, you clutch your stomach and pretend to be in pain and claim a miscarriage. But I will have gained a measure of respect from the men, having fully committed to…” He squared his shoulders. “And I will not hear them calling me prudish behind my back, and Akiel will hopefully let it lie. In the spring, we will be busier and the war will be more intense, and there will be no time for women, so if I could just get through the winter, it would be enough.”

She licked her lips.

“What do you say?” He raised his eyebrows.

She had to refuse him, of course. It would hurt her pride to serve him and make eyes at him, to let him put his hands on her.

He just gazed at her, waiting.

On the other hand, if she could be with Magdalia again, then she could figure out some way for both of them to escape together, and she wouldn’t have to think about how to get to Magdalia, which—as he had pointed out—would be nearly impossible. She sighed.

“You said you’d do anything for your sister,” he said. “Think, in a few months’ time, you will be with her again. And as soon as a few days from now, I could have a response back from her.”

She drew in a breath. “I won’t agree to your having me again.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” he said. “But I will do my best. If you do your best, we may manage it. You must be… effusive, however, when we are together.”

It was her turn to grimace.

“Is that an agreement, then?” he said softly.

“You will get me to my sister,” she said. “You will promise me that.”

“Yes,” he said.

She shouldn’t give in to this man, shouldn’t give him anything at all.

And yet, she was. She was cracking. Every day, she cracked a little more.

She nodded. “It’s an agreement.”

A smile wreathed his features and he offered her his hand.

Slowly, she put her hand in his.

“It’s a bargain, then, domina,” he murmured. “And I shake your hand as if we are equals, so that you know that I respect it.”

MAGDALIA HAD TRAVELEDby train many times, and she had often been in a sleeping compartment as luxurious as this one. In fact, only once had she traveled in a private compartment without a bedchamber, and that had been because the trip was only going to encompass one afternoon, leaving from the capital to go out to a nearby villa for practice with her magic.

She thought suddenly and with a pang for her teacher, Magister Quinthus, who had stayed in the capital, staunchly refused to recognize that the unrest there was making it inhabitable. It was nearly a year ago that the word had come back that his domus had been burned by crazed revolters.

In fact, most of the capital seemed to have burned.

When Magdalia finally saw it through the window of the train, on the second day of traveling, she was appalled at the state of it. The csaer’s palace still stood, and so did the wall around the city. But many of the buildings were burnt husks of themselves. Most of the monuments to Fortune, the force of good that they worshiped, had been toppled and torn down, or else vandalized in some way—scrawled on with foul words, chipped, or gouged.

She had known it was bad—it had been bad when they left—but this…

Well, when the csaer quit the city, that should have been a sign, she supposed.

Still, she was similarly shocked when it was to that palace she was taken, after they disembarked from the train. She traveled in a gilded chariot, open to the air, seated next to Duranth himself.

The streets were full of dirty humans and dirty fae, all pressed close to each other, all cheering for the Croith at the top of their lungs, chanting things like, “Liberty!” and “Down with the Oppressors!”

He waved to them with his artificial hand, mostly by twisting his wrist, since the hand could not move, and he used his good hand to clamp around her shoulders, holding her against him.

She considered struggling, but she didn’t like the looks of the crowd. There were quite a lot of them, and they all seemed to think rather highly of Duranth, and she was frightened of opposing him in front of them.

The crowd was too loud for conversation, and the ride from the train station to the palace wasn’t long, after all, since it had been built close for the csaer’s convenience.

Seeing the capital like this made her feel terrified.

She had known the csaer had fled, but the official word was simply that the government was taking a short recess and would reconvene elsewhere when necessary. The Senate always took a recess for the summer, and usually a brief winter recess. This current recess, it had been presented to her as business as usual, as nothing to be concerned about, but…

Well, the Croith had taken the capital city and the streets were full of people who responded to him in ways that the common people had never responded to the csaer. She was not an expert on what this all meant, and if she were with Onivia, perhaps her sister could explain it all to her, but it seemed as if the capital had fallen.

This thought made her stomach turn over, because how was it that she was going to be rescued if the humans were losing the war?

Maybe the capital falling didn’t mean that the humans were losing the war, but… well… there were numerous things that pointed to that conclusion, like all of the villae in the islands falling to slave revolts, and that villa she’d been brought to on the mainland, which was overtaken entirely by fae.

Her throat seized up and tears of despair stung the back of her eyes.

By the time they had arrived at the palace, tears were spilling down over her cheeks, and she took the time to brush them away.

Duranth noticed, and he reached across the chariot and caught one on his artificial hand. He studied it as it soaked into his glove, his expression blank.

She hated him.

It hurt to hate him after loving him for so long, and after everything she had gone through on his behalf, but he was not who she thought he had been. And she couldn’t be sure how much of all of their interactions had been false. He had presented some other persona to her, pretending to be a dutiful and loyal slave. All along, he’d been harboring these plans, plans to overthrow the natural order of things. All along, he’d been hiding the evil inside him.

She should have known.

Death fae were evil through and through. They couldn’t stop themselves from being evil. It was in their magic. Their magic infected them with death and destruction and vileness. Perhaps when Duranth had the piercings, he’d had some measure of protection from the evil, but those piercings had never worked on him, and she’d known this for a long time.

So, perhaps he’d never had much protection.

Maybe…

Maybe he’d been sweet and good as a child, and maybe it was only as his power grew that he was corrupted. But whoever he was now, he was only worthy of her hatred.

He helped her out of the chariot and wrapped his arm around her again, digging his fingers into her shoulder. He turned her, forcing her to face the gathered crowd beyond the gates of the palace as he gave one last final wave, and then he tugged her inside.

The door shut, and they were in the great hall of the palace.

The palace was mostly unchanged, except for the fact that here—as in the previous villa—the paintings of the csaer and the previous csaers had all been removed. Also, anything that referenced Fortune or the human religion was gone.

The palace was sparse, but it wasn’t vandalized, and it was still clean and resplendent.

She hiccuped, tears drying up as she looked around.

“It’s not as if I haven’t seen you cry before,” came Duranth’s low voice. He wasn’t touching her now, and she was glad of it. He was close, however.

She fought everything within herself which wanted to turn in the direction of his voice. Instead, she gave him her back. She gazed up at the crystal chandelier in the ceiling.

“You would cry often,” said Duranth. “You were often displeased. Of course, everyone around you did whatever they could to stop your tears, so you found them to be your best weapon. You employed them at any opportunity to get whatever it was you desired.”

She pressed her lips together. He’s evil and he’s a liar, she told herself. He’s just saying whatever he can to torment me.

“But I have to say, I’ve never seen you cry like this. Not so silently, as if you wish to hide it. Never so… genuinely.”

She clenched her hands into fists.

“I suppose I might have convinced myself you weren’t capable of such emotions.” He came around in front of her. He reached out to touch her face.

She jerked away, glaring at him.

He let his hand drop. “Little Magda,” he murmured, looking her over. There was a furrow in his forehead, as if he was attempting to puzzle her out.

She cast her gaze over his head, doing her best to pretend as if he was of no consequence to her.

“Why do you cry?” he said. “Is it for your father? Did you love him so very dearly, that man who thought of you as part of his property?”

She flinched, but she refused to meet his gaze.

“Your brothers who never paid you any mind?”

“Maybe it’s the memory of the vicious treatment I had on your ship,” she snarled.

“Ah, yes, when you were ‘passed around.’” An ironic lilt to his tone.

“You really think I’m lying about it.” Now, she did look at him. “I’m not.”

His expression changed. He went utterly blank for a moment, and it chilled her.

“What do you want me for?” she said. “Is it for an army of Csaers? You wish us to raise the dead?”

He inclined his head.

Her breath caught in her throat and then she couldn’t help but let out a sob. “B-but why? Do you even need me? It seems as if the war is going very well for you already.”

He smiled. “Oh, how good of you to notice. The csaer and the other humans seem to be in a state of denial about our wins, and about what we have accomplished. But this is their own fault, because the full force of the imperial legions is scattered around the empire. There are always more places to conquer, more skirmishes over territory to have with Emmessia. So, they have refused to take the fae army seriously, and they have not called back their forces. When they do, we will lose whatever edge we have now.”

She drew in a deep breath, relieved. Oh, thank Fortune, who smiled upon the Vostrian Empire.

“I tell you this because, as I said, I trust you,” he said. “Because I am confident that you’ll help me. You love me, Magda. You always have, and you—”

“I hate you.” She sounded petulant, not unlike the small, squalling little girl he’d been forced to play games with all those years ago. She had rarely thrown a tantrum for his benefit, of course. She liked him far too much to behave in that manner with him. But he had witnessed them, of course he had.

But she had been a child.

She had stopped those sorts of childish displays of emotion quite some time ago.

“Do you?” He didn’t sound concerned.

“You don’t believe me?” She drew herself up. “How shall I prove it to you?”

He reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist. It was a tight grip—too tight—and it grew tighter until it was very painful.

She cried out.

He pulled on her, and she stumbled after him. Five of his long strides across the room and then she was pressed into the wall and he was in front of her, boxing her in, hands planted against the wall on either side of her face. He leaned down until he was eye-level with her. “I can force you, Magda.”

A tremor went through her, one of fear, against her will, and it was the most awful thing she’d ever felt, because she had never been afraid of him.

“I don’t need to use magic. I don’t need to use the vast number of people who answer to me. All I need is one simple thing, and that’s my superior strength. You are a weak young woman, and I am a man, and I can force you.”

She shook her head.

“I can force you to do anything.”

“No.” Her voice wasn’t strong.

“I can make it a choice between helping me and pain, helping me and degradation, helping me and a complete loss of dignity. I can do anything I want with you, and you can’t stop me.”

She tried to say no again, but this time, she only mouthed it, and no sound came from her throat.

Abruptly, he rocked back on his feet, moving his arms, and now he was a full foot away from her, and he wasn’t blocking her in.

She let out another breath, not a relieved breath, but it almost sounded like relief.

“But I don’t want to do that to you,” he said, and his voice had grown soft. “You may hate me, but I don’t hate you. I have a great deal of fondness for you on account of our childhood together, and I recognize everything you did for me, little Magda. I would not be here without you, and I don’t intend to repay that debt with abuse.”

Her breath came out too loud—as if every breath was a wheeze.

“I don’t want to do that,” he repeated. “But if I have to, I will.”