Chapter 60

Lilitha felt rotten, both inside and out. What was she doing? She tried to convince herself that this was all for Clara, but more and more, she started to question herself.

How could she even stand to be with him? This man who’d chased her, raped her, imprisoned her, and was now using her best friend as blackmail? How could she be starting to prefer his company to the loneliness?

She was sick. She was disgusting. And she was killing again.

And how could Mandalay compel himself to do it? A so-called knight of God? He was just as deranged as she was. If she was killing again, she might as well have never left the Diablons at all! Clara was in just as much danger here as with them.

Flowers shouldn’t matter. Jewelry should matter even less. But most of all, his smile and his laughter and the gentle way he touched her shouldn’t make her feel anything. They ~shouldn’t~ make her feel anything!

And yet, since that night on the floor, things had changed. She still didn’t feel exactly comfortable, but every time he touched her, her skin would burn, and her mouth would fill with saliva. She even liked the blue of his eyes.

He noticed the difference. He seemed to be softening around her, rarely scowling or sneering. When she tried to resist at night, he would only be a little firm as he gripped her arm so she couldn’t get away. Then he would speak soft words in her ear, touch her in the right places, present her with another gift—and she would submit.

They were lying in bed together, Lilitha watching the rain through the window as he breathed into the back of her neck. His arms were around her waist, his warm chest pressed up against her back. Murmuring in his sleep, he tightened his hold.

Lilitha closed her eyes, imagining Mateus, imagining Damon. She imagined speaking to Silus again. He’d forgiven her. And Carmella was smiling.

She gave a shuddering sigh.

The next morning, Mandalay had the day off. They were sitting on the edge of the bed together, Lilitha between his thighs. He was kissing her down her spine. He bent her over.

Lilitha jumped as he smoothed his hand over her tail.

“Everything about you is beautiful. Everything but this. What is it?”

“My father did it to me—as punishment.”

“Did what?”

“I can’t remember.”

“It doesn’t look right. I don’t see what kind of punishment it could have been.” He smoothed his hand around her neck, gripping the front of her throat firmly. “You’re still keeping secrets from me.”

“No.”

“Yes. I think you are.” He tightened his grip, enough so that Lilitha gasped. Her heart began to race. It was a good reminder. A reminder that no matter how stupid and perplexing her emotions were, no matter his comforts and gentleness and the pretty shiny things he bought her, he ~owned~ her.

“I’ve set up an appointment with a minister. You’re going to get some help.” He smoothed her hair from her back.

“M-minister?”

“That’s right. I’ve spoken with him and he’s going to help with…with your little problem.”

Lilitha turned with a start. “He ~knows~.”

“No. Do you think I’m a fool?” He tugged at her hair. “I’ve only told him that you are sick.”

“How can he help me if he doesn’t know the truth?”

“Would you prefer no help at all?” He tugged her hair a little harder. Lilitha winced.

“And what if he can’t?”

He gripped her throat again. “It ~will~ work.” And he kissed the back of her neck.

It was different wandering through Mainstry’s streets with a protector, with someone rich and powerful. Mandalay wasn’t wearing his Champion’s uniform and few in Mainstry knew him as Norfolk’s greatest defender, but they recognized his sword readily enough and gave them both a respectful berth. After a lifetime of scorn, it was a new experience for Lilitha.

He kept her tight by his side, clutching her hand, as though fearful she would escape.

They had no need to take his horse, the chapel only a few blocks away. Lilitha gazed up at the cross that stood above the door. She swallowed hard, wondering if she had a right to enter.

She felt a shiver of unease as she stepped inside, as though expecting a lightning bolt to strike her down. It ~was~ pretty. Soft, clean carpet down the aisle. Polished pews. Glimmering stained glass windows. She’d never seen a church like it. It smelled of old wood.

Mandalay pulled her down along the nave and down a short corridor. He knocked at a plain wooden door.

“Enter,” came a voice.

Unlike the rest of the chapel, the room wasn’t so welcoming, small and closeted and stark, one high window providing just enough light for the man inside to read. He was sitting behind a desk, looking intently at a sheet of parchment. More parchments adorned his walls: charts of the night sky, pictures of the human body, pages of loopy writing.

The man himself wore a chain around his neck. He was certainly a minister—long white robe, golden sash around his shoulders. Mandalay hadn’t told her he was so high-ranking. Lilitha swallowed again. She shouldn’t be here. He would know. ~God~ would know.

He looked up at them both, putting down the parchment and folding his hands upon the desk. “Welcome Mandalay.” His eyes shifted to Lilitha. Lilitha tried her best not to look nervous. “So, this is the young lady.”

He gave her a kindly smile, then gestured toward a stool on the other side of his desk. She sat, and again he folded his hands together, peering at her closely. He looked up at Mandalay. “You may leave, good knight. She is safe with me.”

Mandalay looked startled. “I would prefer to stay.”

“Not necessary. I’ll take good care of her.” He spoke with command.

Mandalay glanced at Lilitha, warning in his eyes, then bobbed his head and left.

The minister turned back to Lilitha. “I am Father Trenton. And your name is…?”

“Lilitha.”

“Pleasure. I rarely receive patients on a private basis outside of Church appointments. And if I do, they’re usually nobles and ladies. Sir Mandalay must hold you in great esteem.” He fell silent as though awaiting an answer, but Lilitha gave him nothing and he picked up the parchment he’d been reading, his eyes darting over it.

“He sends you here for this ~eating irregularity~ as he calls it. Not eating enough. Only every few days. And the wrong kind of food. What does he mean by the wrong kind of food?”

Lilitha’s heart pounded in her throat.

He gave her a look as if she were an idiot. “Also, he wants me to check an odd mark on your lower back. Can you explain anything about this mark?”

Lilitha didn’t respond, her grip tightening on the sides of her stool.

He sighed and nodded toward a cot by the door. “If you could make yourself comfortable, I’ll do what I can.”

As she complied, the minister pulled out a bag from behind the desk and brought it over. He removed a number of instruments. Lilitha lay still, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, dread pooling in her stomach as he began his examination.

The process seemed to take forever. He checked her heart, drew blood, and used a strange contraption over her body that emitted a queer yellow light. Another instrument followed, which he held very closely to her eyes. With a grunt, he put it away.

He used a soft hammer-like tool to tap her knees. Then he checked her mouth, tongue, and teeth. He examined her scalp, gently parting her hair. Not even the soles of her feet escaped his scrutiny.

“Could you turn over? I would like to check your back.”

Sucking in an anxious breath, Lilitha complied. She remained still as he gently pulled down her skirts. He didn’t gasp. He didn’t really have a reaction at all except for a long pause. Then she felt something cold press against her skin.

“Curious,” he said. “It almost looks like…” He stopped himself.

“Like what?”

“Never mind. Never mind. Does it hurt?”

Lilitha nodded. He pulled up her skirts, and she sat up. The examination finished, he closed his bag and sat back behind his desk.

“Now, it is clear that you are malnourished. I can see it in the gauntness of your face, the pallor of your skin. You are lacking in vital elements, particularly in iron. It poses a serious problem when trying to fulfill your duty as a woman.”

“Duty as a woman?”

He didn’t blink. “Bearing children, of course.”

Lilitha’s eyes widened.

“Your stomach, upon examination,” he continued, as though it meant nothing, “is hyperactive and noisy. It’s wanting sustenance. Do you lack the urge to eat, or do you simply find no pleasure in it? Is there pain?”

Lilitha didn’t answer, still shocked by the thought of motherhood. Motherhood with Mandalay. ~My duty. My duty.~ She suddenly thought of Carmella and bit her lip.

He gave an impatient sigh. “I will prescribe you a tonic, which should provide you with all you need. You will need to visit the apothecary to collect it.” He paused. “As for your other mystery—”

Lilitha froze.

“I cannot explain it. But it’s not infected and doesn’t seem to be deteriorating—whatever it is.” He gazed into her face. A queer look passed over his expression. “And then there are your eyes. They do not react normally. Do you have problems with vision?”

Again, no answer.

He pursed his lips and straightened. “So be it. I’ll write a prescription. If you haven’t started to improve within seven days, return, and I’ll see what else we can do.”

Lilitha waited outside in the hall as Mandalay went in and spoke to the minister in private. She leaned against the wall, her legs feeling a little wobbly. When Mandalay reappeared, his brow was furrowed.

After filling their prescription, they walked back home in silence. As usual, he kept her tight by his side.

When they reached home, they made love. Mandalay was quiet and slow. When he kissed her, his lips were soft. His hands were light against her skin. He barely made a sound. He didn’t speak, hard and tight but gentle inside her.

When they were done, Lilitha gazed through the window.

~Duty as a woman?~

~Bearing children, of course.~

Lilitha shivered.