Mira (9 page)
Anger and frustration boiled in Rillan again.
Such a small comment and yet it stung him deeply.
Elizabeth
said things similar.
By the Fates, she is so much like
Elizabeth
.
There was more muffled thunder, and a trickle of water came down the shaft.
It was cold and clear and clean.
This was the point where Rillan usually put something beneath the shaft to catch the water, so that it wouldn’t make a tremendous mess on the floor.
He almost stepped out of the shadows.
Mira reached her hand up to the water and felt it trickle over her palm and down her arm.
She breathed in the fresh clean breeze.
Something about the darkness she had been in for all these weeks made her appreciate this experience all the more.
Mira stepped under the trickle of water and let it run over her face, down her neck, and across her chest.
Goosebumps arose on her skin, as the cold water trailed in rivulets over her flesh.
Rillan hadn’t seen beauty like this in so long.
The girls usually lost their glow relatively quickly here.
He breathed slow
ly
and deliberate
ly
, watched the water caress her, and wondered briefly what it would taste like to drink it from her, as it ran along the curve of her breast.
He wished she was naked, so that he could watch the water trickle along her stomach and legs as well.
He hated her for making him feel as though he should let her go and not curse her with a life below ground with him.
“I thought I told you not to come in here,” he growled.
Mira flinched, when she heard his voice.
Blood ran cold in her veins, as his deadly tone sunk into her.
She didn’t need to see him to know that he was furious beyond anything she had yet to experience.
“I,” she faltered.
From somewhere deep inside her, anger wrapped around her fear and bubbled to the surface.
It isn’t fair.
He keeps the only air in this place for himself.
Why is he so mean?
“I just wanted to see the sky.
Do you always have to sneak up on me like that?
It’s obnoxious,” she growled right back.
Rillan was taken aback at first.
He never, in all his years, dealt with a woman this blatantly defiant and argumentative.
He stepped toward her until the light from the lantern fell on him and shadowed his features menacingly.
“This is my place.
I’ve never had to punish one of you before, but I’m seriously contemplating it.
You have no idea how much your behavior is trying my patience.”
Mira flinched again on the word ‘punish.’
She didn’t think there was any way he could devise something more miserable than what already happened.
Even so, she did get the impression that he would try.
Somehow, though, she couldn’t stop her mouth.
“My behavior?
At least my behavior is consistent.
You’re the one who seems gentle and caring one minute and then turns into a goon the next.
You said I was supposed to be a companion to you, and the druids did me an injustice in their training.
Yet you behave companionable one minute and turn into a monster the next, and I’m not referring to the blood drinking.
Even that was preferable to the way you’re treating me now.”
Mira was trembling.
She didn’t know what to expect after her tirade.
“Get out before I bloody my hands with you,” he sneered at her.
Mira looked up at the shaft and then back to Rillan with tears in her eyes.
“This is the reason they wanted away from you,” she said softly, and started to walk past him toward the door.
The comment pushed Rillan over the edge, and he grabbed for her as she tried to pass.
Mira dodged the grasp and screamed, then started to run down the hallway.
There was nothing save silence following her.
As she neared the door, she glanced back to see if he was following.
Out of nowhere, he grabbed her by the neck and slammed her back against the wall.
Her skull cracked harshly against the stone, and the wind was knocked out of her lungs.
Mira tried to fight the spinning and the lack of air, as he began speaking.
“You bitch.
You have no idea what I’ve been to others.
What do you want?
To go outside?
For me to be sweet and kind to you?
I’ve gone that route in the past, girl.
You beg for one day.
Just one.
You swear you love me and promise to come back.
And as the sun rises above the mountains and I’m trapped in this hell, you would enjoy the feel of the air and the grass and the breeze.
You feel the warmth that only the sun can give.
Then you come back.
You keep your promise.
Only now you’re more miserable, because you’ve seen what you’re missing.
Then you beg for another day and give more promises.
Then a week.
Then more.
Until you wouldn’t come back at all.
And I wouldn’t blame you.
Except for the lies you told me.
And even those I would eventually forgive and understand.
How could you possibly want me over the sun?
Then I curse myself a fool for having allowed another woman to creep into my soul, when I already learned that lesson once.”
As he spoke his words gradually lost their vehemence, and Mira thought he sounded as though he may cry.
“Go back to your room girl.
Do not come here again.
I promise I won’t be so kind next time.
I keep my promises.”
Rillan dropped Mira to the floor and began walking toward his room.
Tears streaked down Mira’s face, and a red handprint was already beginning to show signs of bruising on her throat.
Mira couldn’t decide if the tears were from what he did to her or from what he said.
She walked out the door, knowing better than to push him any farther that night.
She had a great deal more thinking to do.
Chapter 4
Mira may have thought it all a disturbing nightmare, if not for the handprint on her throat and the new pain searing through her skull.
She stood in front of the mirror and examined the purple seeping into her pale skin.
Collapsing onto the edge of her bed, she stared at the door, imagining that she was brave enough to leave.
I can find the way out
, she thought almost manically.
Rillan won’t follow me.
He’ll tell the druids to send someone else.
Only, without a withered body lying on the altar outside the cave, everyone will know that I ran away.
That thought triggered tears.
I’m trapped here by myself.
Mira lay back on the bed, letting tears stream down her cheeks.
I don’t know why it’s taking so much for me to get used to it all.
Didn’t they tell me how horrible this was?
Wasn’t I prepared for being sacrificed for the good of my people?
Mostly, she was angry at herself for seeing something in Rillan ap Tiernay that wasn’t really there.
Just because the man’s touch was gentle once, and he seemed so-- I was wrong.
I was just wrong,
she thought.
It took some time that night, but she was able to turn her tears off.
Mira busied herself preparing a bath and making plans for what she could do to pass time until Rillan wanted another meal.
That’s all I am.
A meal.
A well cared for, unwanted, meal.
In the end, I suppose, it makes sense.
He hates himself.
I’m another representation of what he despises about himself.
I guess if I were a good person who turned myself into a monster, I wouldn’t much like the things that reminded me of that either.
Mira soaked in the tub, feeling the warm water sooth the tension from her body.
She did her best to remember her lessons and try not to be resentful for all of this.
It was her choice.
No one forced her into this life.
Now she would have to adjust to it.
The longer she lasted, the fewer girls in the next generation would have to be subjected to it.
She resolved to look through the library.
There were any number of books that caught her attention.
I’d love a better look at those leather bound histories
, she thought with some excitement.
Who knows what kind of old knowledge could be in them.
And I can see about finding some books on music
.
Nothing surprised her more than when she had found the room with all the stored instruments.
If I can find some books on how to play one of them,
she thought,
maybe I can teach myself.
That would certainly take a great deal of time
.
Besides, I’ve never liked sewing, and there is plenty of clothing.
I only cook and clean for myself.
There are no gardens to tend or animals to look after or children to teach.
I have never had so little to do
.
Mira eventually got out of the tub, dried herself off, and went to her bed.
She wouldn’t disobey his rules again.
Rillan grabbed his armor off the rack and strapped it on.
Choosing one of the more violent looking maces from the weapons rack, he stepped up to the armored dummy.
He roared frustration, as vicious blows rained down on the dummy.
Sweat covered his face and ran down the back of his neck, as he battered the inanimate, faceless enemy into submission.
When it finally lay in a brutalized mound on the floor, he threw the mace across the room with an unsatisfied war cry and paced away from the mess.
Drawing air forcefully into his lungs, he tried to calm down.
“She’s right to some extent,” he said aloud to himself, a habit he studiously developed during long hours of silence.
“I’ve shown her no consistency.
She has no idea how to behave, because I’ve given her no real direction,” he sighed.
He wanted too badly to trust her and walk down the hall to spend time near her.
He stared at the large double doors and wondered if he hurt her badly when he slammed her against the wall.
“Well if she didn’t fear me before, she’ll be starting to now.”
He couldn’t decide if he wanted her to be afraid and cut off all chance of resurrecting what started between them, or if he wanted her to continue to challenge him.
Rillan walked back to his dummy and began to repair the damage he had done, with a skillful hand.
This wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that he relieved some of his frustration this way.
Mira could hear the echoing sound of metal on metal, bouncing off the stone walls in the darkness.
She worked her way down the hall until she found the door to the library.
She was grateful for the yelling and pounding.
He sounded angry
,
and it concerned her.
Still, at least I know where he is and don’t have to spend all my time worrying about whether he’s watching me from the shadows,
she thought.
The library was well organized, and it didn’t take long for her to find the books concerning music.
The ones she found were mostly books that discussed music or talked about the history of music.
Mira looked around the room with interest and found that there were more history books than anything else.
“He must be interested in learning about the things that have happened since he was trapped inside this gloom,” she said softly to herself.
A set of red, leather bound manuscripts caught her attention.
Strangely drawn to the books, Mira pulled one of them from the top shelf where it was tucked away.
A leather thong wrapped around it held the soft bound manuscript closed.
Mira unwrapped it and flipped the cover open.
Even with the little training she received in the ancient knowledge and rites, she instantly recognized the intricate instructions.
Shocked, Mira didn’t know what to think.
The druids would never have written this down.
Rillan must have written these.
Mira drew in a sharp breath, and closed the manuscript.
The rites that created him.
She turned page after page, her fingers seemed to burn with each touch.
“Immortality,” she gasped.
For centuries that rite has thought to have been missing. Have the elders been lying or do they not know that he has this knowledge?
Even her thoughts felt too loud in her head.
It was as if even thinking that such things were written down would get her into trouble.
Quickly she replaced the manuscript on the shelf where she found it and stared fearfully around, trembling.
Mira tilted her head toward the door and listened to the continued hammering of metal on metal.
It was getting louder.
She sighed nervously, using the sound to break the uneasy feel
ing
of her situation, and went back to the music books.
She found one which looked simple enough.
The book mostly contained the history of tin whistles, but there were some pages showing simplechordstunes
and a small section on how to read music notes.
Her eyes continued to drift back to the shelf containing the manuscripts.
Mira left a note for Rillan on the desk, letting him know that she borrowed one of the books and which one.
As she headed back toward her rooms, silence descended on the hall.
A nervous queasy feeling had Mira watching the light around the doors at the end of the hall, as she quickened her pace toward her own rooms.
She wasn’t doing anything wrong, but she didn’t want him thinking she was up to something either.
She didn’t intend to ever find out how he would “punish” her, if she stepped out of line again.
The heavy wooden door closed behind her with a thud, and she felt safe again.
Excitedly she ran down her hall.
She opened the door leading to her music room.
It didn’t take long for her to turn up a small intricately carved wooden box containing,what looked to be,a well made tin whistle.
It was silver with a soft red cord and tassels on it, tied around the end near the mouth piece.
She smiled.
It’s very pretty
, she thought, turning it over in her hands.
Placing the whistle back in the little wooden box, she picked up the book and the box, before walking out of the music room and down the hall into her bedroom.
She placed the box with the whistle on the stand next to her bed and began reading, absorbing everything the book said.
It didn’t take long for her to realize she would mostly have to teach herself how to play it.
Mira smiled.
“I’ve got all the time in the world,” she said to herself.
* * * *
In the beginning, Rillan worried about how she was reacting to what happened between them.
It became evident by her behavior, which changed very little, that she was still the same.
She was respecting his space, as a result of the attack and staying in her own room.
Even so, she was still moving about and doing things to occupy herself. The ones who had given in to the darkness in his home always took to lying in bed and sleeping their tedium away or staring blankly at walls for hours on end.
The ones he pitied were those who didn’t lose their minds and lived every day knowing where they were and what he was.
It was a late night, when he walked into his library.
There was a tingling in the back of his mind.
He wouldn’t admit even to himself that he hoped she might come here as well.
This way, he could call it a chance encounter in a small space, and neither of them would have to admit to needing the company.
Rillan was letting his pride rule him, and he knew it.
He refused to go to her and was pissed at himself for having so thoroughly given her the impression that she was not to come to him.
“I’ve no one to blame save myself,” he groused, as he walked the shelves of books and tried to find one that interested him.
A piece of paper
,
with unfamiliar handwriting, on his desk caught his attention.
When he read it a smile cracked his face.
She was here
.
The muscles in his cheeks balked at the unfamiliar movement, and his face fell back to the standard frowning position it was used to.
Rillan walked out the door and down the hall toward Mira’s rooms.
His mind was working on some kind of excuse to use for interrupting her solitude.
He was curious about why she took the book about whistles.
Standing outside her door and trying to formulate the thing he would say to make it all right that he was visiting, he heard her wobbly attempt at a scale on her whistle.
The laughter started as a muffled chuckle and a grin, while he listened to the poor excuse for a scale.
Rillan hadn’t actually thought someone could do that poorly with a tin whistle.
It wasn’t as if it was a complex instrument.
When she stumbled over another couple notes, he turned away from the door and allowed the bottled amusement out.
She’s simply horrible
.
An odd sound from the hallway drew her attention, and Mira put the pretty silver whistle down.
If she hadn’t believed Rillan ap Tiernay incapable of it, she would have thought the sound to be laughter.
She placed the instrument in the crease of the pages of the book and got up to go and see what it could possibly be.