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Trillian wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “And I should have never let you go. We’re fated to be together, and there’s nothing you can do when the Hags take an interest in your life.”
Father looked us up and down and then, sounding the most human I’d ever heard, uttered one word. “Crap.”
I sputtered. “Excuse me, but shouldn’t that be congratulations ?”
“Yeah, Dad,” Trillian said, making it worse. “Maybe you can come visit us Earthside and we’ll take in a few holes of golf.”
Sephreh blinked. Without another word, he marched over, kissed me on the forehead, shook his head disgustedly at Trillian, then stomped off. But as he climbed in the carriage, he turned to wave good-bye and he was smiling.
Trillian kissed my cheek. “I think he’s coming around. We’ll be best buddies in no time.”
“You wish,” I muttered. “Come on, I’ve got an audience with the King.”
“As do I,” Morio said, coming up behind us. Iris was nowhere in sight.
“What?” I twirled.
“A messenger found me in the marketplace and told me to join you in the throne room.” He held up a cloth bag. “I found some fascinating spell components there.”
“Come on, woman.” Trillian gave me a little shove forward. “We’d better get our butts in gear.”
He led us through the maze of gardens toward the central tent. As we passed close to the cloth panels, the material brushed against my arm. Basket weave, it was durable, and yet finely crafted.
“What’s this made of?” I reached out to touch the panel. Soft under my fingers, it tingled with a faint buzz. “There’s magic woven into the cloth.”
“You think?” Trillian arched his eyebrows. “These are the walls of the palace. Unlike stone or mortar or brick or marble, cloth isn’t quite as effective in stopping little things like cannons or fireballs. Of course the material is enchanted. The tents that make up the palace have protective energy woven into every strand, every thread.”
And then we were at the door leading into the throne room. Trillian stood to the side, waiting for us outside as one of the Dahns guards led us on. We followed the unicorn, who looked dangerously large and powerful, up the cobbled path that separated twin courts cushioned with moss and an occasional stone bench. The walls of the tent were a good twenty feet high, held up by an intricate system of cross-bars and I wondered how the unicorns had erected them.
Then, I saw exactly how they had managed the task. Around the perimeter, manning the guylines and counterweights, stood several large centaurs. Male centaurs. Very well-endowed centaurs. Suddenly blushing, I looked away. I didn’t need any new fantasy fodder—I had plenty of it in reality, but man, oh man, the women of their race had a lot to be thankful for.>“While we’re on the subject, why did you fuck me if you already knew about Morio and Smoky? You just want to get in one good last screw before you kick me out of your life?”
That did it. Trillian dropped to his knees beside me, his eyes downcast. He reached for my hand and I yanked it away.
“I’m sorry, Camille. I apologize. I just get so . . . you do something to me that no other woman does. You always have, from the first time I set eyes on you in the Collequia. Svartans aren’t supposed to mate for life, not like this. But from the first time you told me off . . . the first time you kissed me . . . the first time I took you to bed and tasted just how sweet you are. I knew from the beginning I’d never be able to forget you.”
Hello, this was new. Trillian detested sentimentality. What the hell was going on? “Are you okay? You aren’t sick or anything, are you?” I gazed into his eyes, trying to read him.
He reached for me again and this time I let him take my hand. He stroked my palm gently, then wrapped his fingers over my own.
“No, I’m not sick. The past months while I’ve been on assignment, I saw more death and torture than I ever wanted to. Up close and personal. You weren’t far off base in your worries. There was a point where Lethesanar’s men caught me. They decided to teach me a lesson before handing me over to the Opium Eater. They . . .”
He choked, his words thick in his throat as he stared hard at the floor. My gut told me that something horrible had happened. I put my other hand on his.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’re two of a kind, Trillian. I won’t turn away from you.” And I meant every word.
Slowly, he met my gaze. “One of the guards was a big bruiser. They caught me in the forests of Darkynwyrd, a couple of days after I stopped at Darynal’s. Camille, you know I’m no lover of men. It’s not in my nature.”
Oh hell. I knew what was coming and I didn’t want to hear it. It would kill his ego to admit it, but as the words began to spill out, I realized that he needed to talk. To tell me his horrible secret.
“Strall. That was the guard’s name. The night they caught me, they dragged me over next to the fire where he was waiting. The men held me down, pushed me onto my knees in front of him, and he forced me to blow him. And then, when I was done, the men turned me over and held me down while he reamed me up the ass.”
Trillian stared at the wall as he spoke, his voice clear and unwavering, but the control he was exerting over his emotions was so tremendous that I could actually feel it vibrate through him.
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to pull him into my arms but I knew that it wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t done talking, so I just squeezed his hand, bringing it up to my lips where I gently kissed his palm.
Trillian’s mouth tightened. “This went on for three nights. The fourth night, I’d had enough. I figured it was better to die than let them abuse me any further. But when Strall came to me that night, the other men weren’t with him. I suppose they were off gathering firewood. They’d gotten lazy, complacent out there. Stupid motherfuckers.”
“Maybe they thought they’d broken you,” I whispered.
