“My mother passed some time ago,” Tunnok murmured, watching her hand and not presuming to touch it again, “so my father would be available for a marriage. Were you suitably wed to someone from a well-respected and powerful family, you might find that others would be less likely to oppose your appointment as queen. And my father served as island lord for more than a decade, so he has the experience.”
“Sergeant Tunnok, are you proposing to me on behalf of your father?”
“I haven’t discussed the possibility with him yet, but he’s always done what’s best for the family, so I think he would be amenable.”
“How old is he?” Syla couldn’t believe this stranger was bringing this up, especially with her mother and siblings barely passed. Wasn’t it possible some of her kin had been found while she’d been gone? Maybe, even now, one of her siblings was being crowned and getting the capital back into order.
“I believe he turns eighty next year, but he’s still of fit mind and reasonably fit body.”
Her jaw dropped at the idea of marrying someone fifty years her senior. As far as she knew, her family hadn’t even contemplated a wedding, political or otherwise, for her. She’d always told them she was married to the temple, to healing, and to helping people. Not… being a part of someone’s political plans.
“He might yet be able to rouse himself to give you an heir, children to rule the kingdom into the future, but ifhecan’t…” Tunnok smiled and draped an arm over the back of the bench, brushing her shoulders. “I would be happy to step in. I trust you’d prefer someone a little younger and fitter.”
“I’m not looking to get married to anyone right now, Sergeant, and I’d prefer to ride back alone.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to get out of those wet clothesand warm up? It’s dozens of miles to town, and we…” His eyelids drooped as he considered her. “I’ve ensured we won’t be disturbed.”
More than lust, his expression held calculation and a fantasy about some future in which his son would be heir to the throne.
“It’s strange, I know, but sitting as a prisoner in a cold metal box doesn’t get me excited about being with a man.” Syla looked him in the eyes, so he couldn’t mistake her rejection. “I am not going to marry your father or have sex with you, Sergeant Tunnok.”
The horrible thought that, if he forced the matter, she possiblycouldconceive a child came to mind. Back home, she had access to all the medicinal herbs that one could desire, including contraceptives. But here? Did she have yerathma root in her first-aid kit? She thought she might. That could help if she needed to handle the matter after the fact, but she would prefernotto need to worry about that.
Uneasy for multiple reasons, Syla willed the sergeant to leave and for this to go no further. Surely, if she yelled, some of his men would come to check on her, to help her. Orwasthat a surety? He’d said they wouldn’t be disturbed. Was that underanycircumstances?
Had her mother and siblings been alive, Syla would have been positive someone like this wouldn’t bother her, someone with a good name and lands that could be taken by the crown, but now… Now, she didn’t have her family. And she’d sent away her bodyguard. She couldn’t even call out to Wreylith for help, not with the shield up around the island. Of course, the red dragon hadn’t implied she would come again if Syladidreach out through the figurine.
“We need not have sex right now,” Tunnok said, “but I suggest youdoconsider what I’ve laid out. There may be other offers as time passes and events unfold, but I think you’ll find this onebetter than most. Others will simply want to kill you so that you need not be factored into the equation. As I said, there’s already speculation. It won’t be that safe for you in Hazel Harbor or even back in your own capital. Not without powerful allies.”
“I will keep your warning in mind.”
“Good.” His gaze drooped to her chest again, then to the tie that held the robe closed. “Before I go, why don’t you let me see what exactly you can offer besides your name and your moon-mark. So I can tell my father, of course.”
“No.” Her heart pounded. What would she do if he tried to force the issue?
“My men are loyal to me,” Tunnok said softly. It sounded like a threat. “They can protect you from what comes, should you choose to ally with my family, but they won’t interfere with the questioning of a prisoner.”
“Do you try to getallof your prisoners out of their robes for questioning?”
“Only if there’s a chance that I might need to service them in bed later.” His eyelids drooped. “Or now. Is this your fertile time, perchance?”
Her fingers tightened into a fist. By all the deranged storm god’s creations, did he think he was going to impregnate her byrapingher? That such a child would be a legitimate heir?
“Given thestressI’ve endured lately, including this exceedingly appalling discussion with you, I doubt I’ll be fertile all year.” Syla stood as much as she could in the carriage, her head brushing the ceiling, and thrust her finger toward the door. “Get out.”
Tunnok laughed shortly before his arm snaked out, and he yanked her down into his lap. He was hard through his trousers, and fear blasted into her, fear that he might be able to make his horrible plan come to fruition.
“I’m not going back out into the rain when there’s a warm woman inside.” Tunnok reached for the flap of her robe.
Syla grabbed his wrist but wasn’t strong enough to push him away. Fury blazed within her, and she willed her power into him, sending a tendril of magic shooting toward his groin.
Always before, she’d used her gods-gift to heal injuries, but she knew everything kingdom healers had learned over the centuries about human anatomy and used her power to squeeze the veins running into his penis to cut off circulation. Thanks to her fear, she must have squeezed more than she’d intended because Tunnok gasped in pain. With a lurch, he pitched her to the floor and rolled to the side, grasping his groin. Afraid he would still be able to lash out at her, Syla reached up and touched his side, then sent more power into him. It curled around his heart, tightening just enough that he would feel it.
Tunnok’s eyes grew round as he scrambled away from her to break the link—or try. Her birthmark glowed brightly with the light of the moon, and, for the first time she could remember, a visible silver tendril hung taut in the air from the back of her hand to his chest, linking them. With a tightening of her power around his heart, she might kill him. The realization that she knew exactly how to do that sank in, the clarity startling as it came to her.
“I saidget out, Sergeant,” Syla said, a tremor in her voice.
She was scared, whether for herself or for Tunnok, she didn’t know. It had never occurred to her that she could use the same magic that healed people to hurt them. She’d neverwantedto discover that.
