It was by rote that he said the sacred prayers, made his vows to
his tiny delicate bride, the woman-child who stared at him with
fear in her dark brown eyes. Nicholas could not free his mind
from the way Aislinn had looked before land and time and space
all became one and he had reappeared in the chambers of his
father’s house. She had sent him away.
Remember me …
She had never done that before.
But he had fled from her only days before, when she had pleaded
with him to stay. Do not leave me, his proud, stubborn little
witch had begged.
Woman, why can you not understand? I cannot dishonor my family.
Remember me…
Yet living in dishonor seemed a small price to pay if he could
have Aislinn at his side always. Momentarily, he was stunned
that he had thought such a thing. ‘Twas impossible. They could
be together, if only the woman wasn’t stubborn, maybe not as man
and wife, but together. . .
If I had even half of the talent she had, I would force her to
come to me, until she regained her senses. We belong together.
Nicholas stood on the stone steps at the chapel door, facing the
priest, Isabella’s right hand laying atop his left while he
repeated his vows in a smooth, steady voice. But inside, he was
in turmoil. Foreboding had filled him the moment Aislinn had
commanded,
“Remember me.” As if he could ever forget.
Her whispered voice, that gentle command, seemed to whisper and
echo over and over in his mind, lulling him into a trance.
Remember me…
Remember me…
Remember…
So preoccupied was he with his thoughts that he barely noticed
the disturbance that started in the back of the crowd, until the
murmurs grew so loud even he could not ignore them.
Remember me…
A shiver ran down his spine and the hair on the back of his head
stood stiff and straight. Premonition, never one of his stronger
gifts, was so great in him, he could almost see the blackness
that was to come.
But it was too late.
A mocking laugh drifted down over the crowd and he turned his
head slowly, knowing that laugh, knowing there was trouble.
Aislinn sat reclining on the sloping roof, one leg, bare to the
knee, swinging lazily back and forth while she surveyed the mass
below her. Slowly, she straightened and stood, one hip cocked
out as she balanced easily on the uneven roof. A shift the color
of blood lay against unfettered breasts before dropping down to
lie lovingly against her hips. The hem fell unevenly around her
legs, but no mattered where it fell, it fell any lower than
mid-calf, revealing the lovely, curved lengths of her legs. The
shift sloped down in the center between her breasts, and there,
she’d pinned the brooch he had given her weeks earlier.
Rogued lips and cheeks, hair curling with even more abandon, she
looked every inch the temptress. Even her eyes looked darker and
more exotic.
“Aislinn, no,” he whispered soundlessly, dread rising in his
heart. Even as he raised his hand toward her, his complete body
was frozen from the inside out.
Or rather, from the outside. By a gift far more powerful than
his. “Remember me, Nicholas,” she whispered to him silently and
he could have sworn he felt the brush of her lips against his.
In the past weeks, women had been put to death, one for making
potions, one for dressing in bold brazen colors and hinting that
she might be a witch. She had not been—she in truth had wanted
death, had been seeking it, courting it, since her lover had
cast her out months earlier.
Like Aislinn.
She was killing herself, Nicholas realized with growing horror.
She was not here to embarrass him with vulgar behavior or shame
him in any way. She was revealing what she was, and setting
herself up for death. And she wanted him to know. He projected,
as strongly as he could. Aislinn, do not do this, please. I beg
of you. I love you.
You love your honor more, she mocked silently. As she ran her
hands up her sides, over her breasts, she licked up her sweet,
pink lips, drawing the eye of every man there.
Aislinn, enough. Stop this. Now.
If I cannot live as your wife, what is the point of living? she
asked, her words echoing in his head.
Leave this place, I will go with you, he pleaded silently. She
cast him a flicker of a glance. I will go with you, whatever it
takes to keep you safe.
And you will damn me for the rest of your life, for costing you
your family’s love and honor. No, Nicholas. A sad smile appeared
at her lips and she shook her head before taking her eyes from
him and roaming over the audience with practiced boredom. You
enjoy your lovely little bride, Nicholas, and live a long
healthy life. She looks lovely, and strong. She’ll breed well.
Once she grows up.
“It seems there is to be a wedding and I was not invited,”
Aislinn called out, the blue sky at her back, the brilliant sun
at her left. The crowd gasped, one woman screamed, as she
extended on bare foot out into space. A thick gold chain gleamed
at her ankle, tiny bells tinkling as she moved.
Murmurs grew louder as she shifted her weight and another woman
screamed. But instead of plummeting to the earth, her feet took
the air as it were a grand set of stairs, walking her way down
to earth, the bells at her ankle tinkling musically as she
walked, hips swaying seductively, mouth curved up in a sweet,
tempting smile.
“Witch.”
“Witch.”
Aislinn weaved her way through the crowd, smiling at people here
and there, pausing to stroke a hand down the arm of a large
hulking brute who stared at her with lust in his eyes. Aislinn
laughed, shaking her head as she passed by him, coming to a halt
in front of Isabella, smiling up at the tiny woman who stood
next to Nicholas atop the stone steps.
A bold, brazen smile on her painted mouth, she asked, “A young
thing, are you not? Are you even thirteen years old?” Isabella
cast Nicholas a fearful glance, but he was unable to tear his
eyes from Aislinn. In a whispery soft, heavily accented voice,
Isabella whispered, “I am thirteen just last week, milady.”
“Milady?” Aislinn repeated, laughing, one graceful hand going to
her half naked breast.
“Oh, you are a sweet child. A very young
sweet child. But most likely fertile. That is the way the
Montgomery family likes them.
“If you cannot conceive by fall, come to me. I know a potion or
two. Or three.” She laughed, sliding Nicholas a sidelong
admiring glance. “Not that this one will have much trouble in
that area. His cock works rather well. I hope he does not
frighten you too badly.”
His eyes were drawn to his mother and he saw that she had
realized what was happening. But moments later, his hopes that
she could intervene died. She was frozen in place as he.
“What I would not give to be in your place tonight, milady,”
Aislinn whispered saucily, flicking Nicholas another glance
before moving away, hips swinging seductively as he moved on to
study the bride’s brother. “Hmmm, what have we here? Are you on
the wedding block as well?”
He stared at her, bemused, eyes flicking from her face, to his
hosts, and then back, dropping down to linger on her lithe form
as she turned and strolled away.
All eyes were trained on her, but she had yet to see the
malevolence in anybody’s eyes, no sign of fear. With a flick of
her hand, she was straddling the solid stone wall the surrounded
the chapel yard, some thirty feet away, skirts rucked up so that
her legs were bared to the knee.
“Rather cold day for a wedding,” she remarked. With a smile, she
threw her head back and her hands out. “Perhaps a fire for the
festivities afterward? Think of it as a wedding gift.”
Just outside the stone wall, a huge fire flared out of nowhere,
feeding on absolutely nothing, glowing with an eerie blue light.
Ah, success.
Nicholas flinched at her words, sick inside, but unable to do
anything. He rammed himself against the barrier that held him,
knowing it was useless. Aislinn could hold him easily,
tirelessly, endlessly. It had never bothered him, that she was
stronger.
Until now.
Aislinn didn’t even blink as hands seized her, twisted her arms
painfully behind her back and binding her. “Her eyes!” somebody
shouted. “Cover her eyes, so she can cast no spells.”
Still frozen, unable to even twitch a muscle, Nicholas quivered
inside with rage. Aislinn, do not do this to me, I have no
choice!
There was no answer.
Aislinn!
A smile curved her lip as she was carried, without resistance,
to the center of the courtyard. Her head turned fleetingly in
his direction, but the soiled cloth that some one had tied
hastily around her head obscured her vivid blue eyes. No choice,
my Nicholas? When did you ever give me one?
Struggling futilely against the bonds he couldn’t see, Nicholas
stared beseechingly at her, knowing she could damn well see him,
blindfold or no. But he remained frozen.
Aislinn, do not do this, he begged, straining against the
invisible bonds that held him silent and locked in place.
Regretfully, she said silently,
It is already done. We will be
together again, somewhere in time, Nicholas. Perhaps, honor will
not mean so much.
You cannot mean to die like this, he snarled at her.
Nor can I mean to live like this. With myself, or with you. I am
ashamed of us both, she said sadly. For our actions over the
past few months, and mine today. I want it over.
So you take the coward’s road? You run from me? This is how it
is to be solved? Is this how much you love me? he demanded of
her. If you love me truly, face me now, and let us end this way
it is meant.
Her sad laughter drifted to him a ghost of a breeze.
I am.
Even though she spoke in a whisper, yards and yards away from
him, he heard her words. You did not love me enough to forsake
your family honor, she said to him, staring straight ahead, even
while curses filled the air was rocks were thrown at her. She
gasped in pain as one glanced off her brow.
Until you may love me enough to forsake everything, your honor,
your pride, your own soul, we cannot be together.
I cannot lose you! Do not make me watch you die! I love
you.
Aye… Her voice was a sweet gentle whisper. I’ll not make you
watch.
Nicholas wanted to weep with relief as more and more branches
were piled at her feet. As he waited for her to do something,
she did. Her magic swarmed up and took him, pulling him into the
sweet embrace of sleep.
NO!
If he allowed her to pull him under with her magic like that,
then he couldn’t save her, couldn’t stop her. He battered at the
sleep spell that held him, knowing it useless. But he broke
through—somehow he broke through, sleepily, hazily, just in time
to see them set fire to branches at her feet.
“NO!” He broke through the paralyzing hold she had his body as
her magic started to break.
Lunging for the flaming pyre, he knocked people aside, intent
only on getting to her, saving her. People tried to grab him and
he struck out, knocking them flat, before two other powers
intervened. His mother and his sister. Alone, neither of them
could hold him. But together…
Nicholas. No. We will not let that happen to you as well, his
mother whispered as she slid inside his struggling mind.
Abigail, young Abigail, only fifteen was white and her eyes were
filled with tears as she struggled to hold him, and deal with
the horror of what she was witnessing.
Nicholas tried to strike out—thinking only to get to Aislinn, as
fire caught to her hair and her skin started to burn and char.
And Aislinn’s power slid between him and them, deflecting it,
absorbing it as she forced him back to where he had been. Fight
no more…think I would live easily? Death is blessing now. I just
want the pain to end.
And her voice was filled with pain. Turning his head, he stared
into her eyes and felt his heart die inside.
Gathering his strength, he amassed his power and struck out. Not
at his family, where his brothers had joined their meager powers
to hold him in thrall, but at Aislinn. To end her pain.
I love you, he whispered only moments before he delivered a blow
to her unprotected mind.
He watched her head slump and felt her heart stop.
Her screams rang in his ears for hours, and they woke him from
sleep every night for the rest of his life.
