Part 45 (1/2)
A spark of pure anger flared in Taminy's breast-a flame of outrage that licked, like a hot tongue, at her soul. ”You a.s.sume much about your power, Regent.”
He spread aislinn hands and moved toward her with steady steps. ”I am here. Do I not seem substantial to you? Would a touch prove my power?”
In the back of her mind, the hatred gained substance and power; it coiled, straining to be unleashed, to destroy him utterly. She considered it, fleetingly, a swift slash of fury-surely that's all it would take. He couldn't possibly be as strong as he believed himself. Someone so evil could never be that strong. She hefted the hatred as a sword, felt its weight and balance, looked into the aislinn Feich's pale eyes, prepared to strike.
The impulse died in a choking surge of panic; Taminy cowered before it-before her own hatred. ”Be gone!”
She edged backward, holding up a hand, restrained, the killing inyx clutched in it like a ball of flame. Feich watched the hand rise; was that fear in his eyes? Had he read her impulse to destroy him? Did he read her present shame? She let the destructive Weave unravel, leaving only the simple s.h.i.+eldweave.
He laughed. ”You'll have to do better than that, my dear. I am stronger than you imagine.”
”Leave me!” she told him, voice low, reining in rage. ”If you'd have an answer from me, leave me!”
”I'd have more than an answer.” He took another step, crowding her.
In the instant Taminy's shoulder pressed into the stone of the hearth mantle, in the instant fury threatened to engulf her, the door of her room thundered and flew open. In its black maw, Catahn poised, sword in hand.
In a heart's beat he was in the room, face ashen, eyes struggling to take in what they saw. The false Feich turned, shedding bits of his aislinn stuff upon the floor to melt like fiery snow. With a roar of outrage, Catahn wielded his sword in a singing arc through the ephemeral figure. The blade pa.s.sed clean through in a shower of sparks, the image exploding into a thousand fragments of gleaming, riotous laughter.
Feich was gone, leaving only an echo and an after-image of ruddy flame.
”Taminy!” Catahn crossed the room to her in two strides, dropping his sword to pull her into his arms. ”Lady! Dear G.o.d, how did he come to be here? Has he grown that strong? What did he say to you?”
She drew away from him, straightening her robe, willing herself to calm and self-possession.
”In a moment,” she said, turning her face to the fire. ”In a moment, I'll tell you. Just now I need to pray. Wait for me here,” she added, and withdrew to her bed chamber.
It was more than a moment before she came to him where he paced, back and forth, back and forth across her parlor. She told him, in a voice like icy water what Daimhin Feich had demanded of her.
Cold rage clawed at his gut. Cold rage and a desire to hack Daimhin Feich's smile from his face with a dull blade. How dare he contemplate marriage to Taminy? How dare he suggest that there could ever be a bond of any kind between them? That she should bear his child?
She was watching him. Watching him clench and unclench his fists, fight to control the breath that wanted to come out in a roar. Words flew from his mouth before he could drag them back: ”You should be no man's wife!”
She was silent for a long moment and, when she spoke, her words jolted him. ”Why should I not? Can I not be loved?”
He sucked breath into his lungs. ”Loved, yes. Adored. Obeyed. But wanted, never! To tie you in such a profane bond-!”
”How, profane? The Spirit made us this way-male, female, capable of generating new life through our union. He asks only that that union be one of love.”
”You'll get no love from Feich. He desires only to conquer and possess. There is no love in that man. None.”
”No. But there is love in another.”
”What are you saying? Of whom do you speak?”
”What man loves me, Catahn? What man puts me before life itself? What man's life is tangled in mine so that we might never untwine?”
She gazed at him with those extraordinary green eyes and he knew that none of his anguish, and none of his weakness, had gone unnoticed. Well, he should have known that. To be close to Taminy was to expose oneself completely. He was daft to have thought he could hide his feelings from her.
Shamed to the depths of his soul, he lowered his eyes, unable to stand her scrutiny.
”Forgive me,” he said.
”Forgive you? Never.”
His head jerked up and fear, abject and paralyzing, wrapped itself around his soul. Compared to this, he had never known fear. Now, it gutted him.
She came to him, then, taking his huge hands in hers, pulling his gaze down to her face, denying him escape. ”I will never forgive you if you don't speak to me plainly from this moment on. What am I to you, Catahn?”
”You are my life,” he moaned. ”But the thoughts I have had. The dreams I have dreamed . . .” Tears started from his eyes.
”Feich's nightmares? Forget them.”
He shook his head, miserable. ”No, no! My own.”
”I dreamed them with you,” she said. ”Every night praying that you would wake the next morning and bring them to me to share.”
What was she saying? He shook his head and the bells braided into his hair whispered an unbelieving duan.
Taminy's grip on his hands tightened, feeling like fingers of flame. ”Catahn, I love you. I would be your wife.”
G.o.d, but he'd never been so cold-a column of ice with a soul of fire. He would melt. ”You can't mean it.”
”Why?”
”You're Osmaer. The Shadow of the Meri. Your purity-”
”I'm human, Catahn. A woman. I have a mission, but the mission is not me. What is impure in our love?”
He groaned, finally tearing his eyes away from her perfect, gleaming face. ”I!” he said. ”I am impure. My hands are soiled. I've stolen, killed, betrayed my wife, fathered a child on a woman who was not mine-”
”You love me.”
”I could be your father.” He laughed-a sharp, humorless bark. ”My own daughter is two months older than you are.”
”Your love for me is not a father's love for a daughter,” she observed, and he melted further. ”My love for you is not a daughter's love for a father.”
He closed his eyes and imagined flame danced behind them. ”But to be your husband-”
He could feel her eyes on his face, feel her aidan probing his soul. She let go of his hands suddenly and released him, body and spirit. He nearly collapsed in a swift agony of aloneness.
”I have laid myself open to you, Catahn Hageswode. Not as Taminy-Osmaer, but as Taminy-a-Cuinn. I have confessed my love for you-my desire for union with you. I cannot demand your heart or order your soul-”
”Lady, you have both my heart and my soul.”