Born of the Night
Page 7

 Father
 I am being held hostage by Lord Reyes. It is his command that you present yourself at Black Dragon Keep before the next full moon and surrender yourself and your arms. If you refuse, my life will be forfeit.
 Your obedient daughter, Shanara.
He read the note again, then crumpled the parchment in his fist. Did Reyes think him a fool, that he would give up his own life in exchange for that of his youngest whelp? It was nothing to him if the girl lived or died. He had five sons to carry on the family line, and more daughters than any man needed.
Montiori turned his attention to the man who awaited his answer. "How do I know my daughter is still alive?"
"You have my lord's word on it."
Montiori snorted derisively. "As if I would believe anything that wretched beast has to say."
Mergrid took a step forward. "My Lord Reyes says he will send the girl back a piece at a time until you surrender, or she dies." He withdrew a small bundle wrapped in cloth from his pocket. "This is so you will know that my Lord Reyes means what he says."
Taking the bundle, Montiori removed the wrappings. Inside, he found the first knuckle of a woman's little finger. Grunting softly, he tossed the bloody bit of bone and flesh into the fire. "Return to your lord."
"I was told to wait for your answer."
"He will know it when he sees it."
"As you wish," Mergrid said. Bowing, he turned and left the hall.
Montiori waited until Reyes's servant was out of the room, then motioned for one of his knights to follow the man.
With a nod of understanding, the knight drew his sword and followed Mergrid from the hall.
Chapter 7
Shanara stood at the window staring out into the darkness, waiting and wondering. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he running through the deep shadows of the night in search of prey, or running just for the sheer joy of it? She knew he remembered being a wolf when he was a man, but when he was clothed in the skin of the wolf, did he remember being a man? What a sad and lonely life it must be for him. She knew now why he remained apart from the others in the keep, why he had never married. Why he would never marry. A pity, when he was such a handsome man!
She thrust the thought from her mind. He was the enemy! Why did it grow ever harder to remember that?
She dozed, then woke abruptly, wondering what had awakened her. And then she knew. The moon was setting. He was near.
Rising, she grabbed a long hooded robe and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. But she didn't leave the garment by the door. Instead, she carried it outside and walked across the yard, following the path he had taken earlier.
She looked up at the moon, so beautiful against the black velvet sky. She wondered if Reyes saw the beauty of it anymore, or if it was a constant reminder of the curse that plagued him.
Frowning, she paused under a tree. If his affliction had been caused by a curse, then there must also be a way to undo it. But how?
A rustle in the underbrush drew her attention. She held her breath as a dark shape materialized out of the shadows. If it wasn't Reyes… but it was. She recognized him immediately.
He trotted to her side, stood there looking up at her. If she had thought it possible, she would have said he was grinning at her.
She held up the robe. "Are you ready to change back?"
He whined softly, his body convulsing, muscles rippling beneath the thick black fur as his body transformed, paws becoming hands and feet, fur receding to become human skin.
It was fascinating and yet frightening to watch as bones and muscle and sinew rearranged themselves until Reyes stood before her, his body sheened with perspiration. She looked at him standing there and thought him the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
It was only when he reached for the robe draped over her arm that she remembered to be embarrassed by his nudity. With a gasp, she put her back to him, but by then it was too late. She had seen all there was to see.
"Why did you come here?" he asked, his voice sharp with disapproval.
"I… because…" She frowned. Why had she come?
"Because you wanted to see the monster?" he asked quietly, but she heard the bitterness in his voice.
"Is that how you see yourself?" she asked, her back still toward him. "As a monster?"
"Do you not?"
She turned to face him. "I see only a man who is being made to suffer for something that happened before he was born."
His gaze searched hers as if seeking to know the truth of her words. Unable to help himself, he took a step forward, his hand stroking her cheek. When she didn't recoil from his touch, he moved closer. And then he lowered his head and claimed her lips with his. As he had the first time he kissed her, he expected her to resist, but once again her response took him by surprise. Her eyelids fluttered down and then she was kissing him back, her innocence and her eagerness more powerful than any aphrodisiac. Her lips were sweeter than a honeycomb, more intoxicating than spring wine. Putting his arms around her, he drank from her lips like a man dying for sustenance. He plunged one hand into her hair, his fingers delving into the thick mass. Her scent filled his nostrils, the heat of her body turned away the chill of the night. She was the reason he had never married, he thought, the reason he had shunned the wagons of the camp followers.
He kissed her again, reveling in her sweet response. For a moment, he let himself pretend he was a normal man, let himself believe that she could be his, that he could take her as his wife and safely spill his seed within her womb. He imagined children born of their joining—strong sons and beautiful daughters, imagined the sound of their laughter filling his dreary keep. He would stop seeking battles to fight and spend his days in peaceful pursuits, and his nights… ah, his nights would be spent in Shanara's arms… Shanara. She was here, in his arms, and yet forever out of reach.
With a low growl, he released her and turned away.
Shanara stared at his back. "Reyes?"
"Go back to the keep."
"Have I displeased you?"
"Displeased me?" An anguished laugh rose in his throat. "Go from me, Shanara, now, before it is too late for both of us."
She started to reach out for him, needing to comfort him, and then lowered her arm. She didn't know what madness possessed her to let him kiss her but there could never be anything between them. He was going to kill her or her father. How could she have forgotten that?
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she ran back to the keep, grateful for the darkness that hid her tears.
She woke to the sound of shouts and harsh curses. Rising, she went to the window overlooking the courtyard. A number of men surrounded a horse. Reyes was easy to pick from the crowd. He stood head and shoulders above the others.
Curious to know what had caused such a tumult at such an early hour, she donned a robe and hurried down the stairs and out the door.
As though sensing her approach, Reyes turned to face her, his expression grim, his eyes hard.
She slowed her steps as she drew near, then came to an abrupt halt when she saw the source of the commotion. The horse she had seen from her window carried a burden on its back. She stopped, one hand covering her mouth, when she saw the headless body draped across the saddle.
She looked up at Reyes. "Who… who was he?"
"The messenger I sent to your father."
His words sent a shiver through her. Caught up in the horror of what she was seeing, she hadn't realized that Reyes had come to stand beside her.
She looked up at him. He had sent her plea for help to her father and this was her father's reply. Coldness settled over her, leaving her numb. Her father would not save her. She had known all along that he would not, yet she had clung to some small scrap of hope, and now that, too, was gone.
As he had been the first time she had seen him, Reyes was clad all in black. He had reminded her of Death on that day not so long ago. And now that her father had abandoned her, Reyes would, indeed, be her death. Because her father would not take her place, her life would be forfeit, and then there would be another war, with more death and more killing.
"How soon?" she asked, her voice a choked whisper. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live, to marry and bear children, to watch them grow, to hear their laughter and dry their tears.
He frowned at her. "How soon? How soon for what?"
"Until you… until you…"
"Speak, woman, what are you trying to say?"
"How soon until you… you take my head in exchange for his?"
Reyes blinked at her. "Is that what you think I'm going to do?"
"Are you not? You said my life would be forfeit if my father did not surrender to you."
Reyes snorted. "I may be a monster but it is not my habit to slay women or children."
She stared at him, feeling suddenly dizzy with relief.
Reyes pulled her into his arms to steady her. Had she truly thought he would take her life if her miserable cur of a father refused to surrender? Reyes knew he would as soon cut off his own hand before he raised it in violence against her. He spat into the dirt. He had known all along that Montiori would never sacrifice his own life for that of his daughter, or for any of his children. Still, he had hoped that Montiori would fall for his bluff, that some spark of fatherly devotion existed in the man. He should have known better. His bluff had failed. To his regret, the finger that his physician had amputated from the diseased hand of one of the serving women had not fooled Shanara's father.
He frowned thoughtfully, his mind forming and dismissing a dozen ploys, and then he smiled. Of course! He knew exactly how to avenge himself on his enemy. Why had he not thought of it sooner?
Shanara looked up at him, obviously confused by his sudden change of mood.
"I have a better way to avenge myself on my enemy," he remarked. "A way that cannot fail."
"You mean to go to war against him?" she asked in alarm.
"No," he said quietly. "I mean to marry his daughter."
Chapter 8