In Which Searle Tangles with Delilah Reincarnate

August 31, 1167

Ellona del Marinos might have been a pretty little thing if she smiled on occasion, but not once had Searle seen her mouth in any form but a scowl. It was no secret that she hated him, and he supposed he couldn't blame her there, but most twelve-year-old girls had the courtesy--or perhaps the humility--to put on a grin and play polite until they were able to make their escape from the room.

It was particularly odd if one considered who her mother was. Elarys was both social chameleon and a conniving serpent, perfectly willing to snuggle up to enemies and stab friends in the back if it happened to be the most effective means to her ends. Ellona must have taken after her father's side; Mjöllnir itself was never so blunt. "I seem to recall telling you that if I saw your face in this castle again, I would tear it from your skull and present it to my father as a banner."

Really, Searle wasn't afraid of her father. If he'd even known Searle existed--which was doubtful--Sir Kaldar wouldn't have embarked on another Crusade so soon after the birth of the baby if he'd had any reason to suspect anything. Ellona, despite her obvious hatred of him, had not quite mastered the art of fulfilling her threats. "Ellona, I don't want to be here anymore than you want to see me, but the fact of the matter is that I have business with your mother."

The girl gave a dry, hollow laugh. "'Business' indeed. Tell me, sir, does your 'business' involve conversation, or perhaps a certain other use of the mouth?"

"It's nothing like that," he tried to assure her, though she gave no indication of being swayed. "I'd prefer to be out of here as soon as possible." Possible. As if it would be possible; Ellona's mother was like a fat, bright-eyed cat with the habit of taking mice by their tails and flailing them about before dropping them in her mouth and savoring each second of digestion. Searle did not care to be toyed with, but in the pit of his stomach, he knew he was past the point where he had a choice. Once Elarys had you wrapped around her finger, no amount of struggling could ever get you free.

"He's yours, isn't he?" the girl muttered, her tiny hand balling into a tight fist. "My baby brother."

Searle crossed his arms, hoping to appear at least somewhat collected. "Sorry?"

Ellona's glare sharpened. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. There's no way an eight-pound baby can be a month premature like she told my father--and you were here last September. I walked in on the two of you fucking, remember?"

Only too well, he thought to himself, though he wouldn't admit it aloud. "Ellona, your brother is not my child. If your mother and father agree that he was born a month early, then he was."

"You lying bas--"

"Ellona, please; must you be so rude to our guest?"

Searle would have known that voice anywhere--and even if she hadn't said a word, every inch of his skin was so attuned to her violet gaze that he could feel it burning through the layers into his veins. He didn't have to turn around to know it was her. "Lady Elarys."

"Sir Searle," she purred, her slippered footsteps echoing throughout the room as she drew nearer. "Ellona, leave us be; we have much to discuss."

"Oh really?" Ellona spat, disbelieving. "You know, most people define 'discussion' as the exchange of words, not the exchange of bodily fluids."

He doubted Elarys batted an eyelash at her daughter's vulgar comment. "That was not a request, Ellona."

She shot her mother a look of undiluted venom, then turned her loathing eyes back to Searle. "Make a cuckold of my father again," she seethed, her white teeth barred and brows furrowed to a dangerous 'v', "and the next thing you know, you'll be dangling over a pit of hungry lions with a piece of meat tied to your balls."

And with that, she shoved past both Searle and her mother, slamming the door shut behind her as she stormed out of the room.

If Elarys was at all fazed by the girl's display, she did not show it. "Forgive her," she whispered, leaning into Searle and gently nipping at his ear. "She's very young, and she underestimates the value of subtlety."

Searle released a sniff of a half-laugh. "You don't say."

She replied with a blink of her heavy, seductive lashes; such was the way of Elarys, flaunting her sexuality as a tool to get what she wanted. How was it that he had managed to get tangled up with this woman in the first place? His father had had business with her husband a year or so prior, and Searle had tagged along--or, more accurately, Haldred had dragged him along out of fear that he might follow Riona's lead into the afterlife if left to his own devices. The moment they met, she'd found a use for him and hadn't hesitated to pursue it; now, he was at her mercy, stuck and helpless as a fly in a spider's web.

And to get this favor out of her, she would probably require something of him in return. He was past the point, however, of caring what it was.

"Elarys, I want to see my son."

The woman paused--not that he thought she needed to. She was as cunning as any man alive, and not a breath she took was without its purpose. She was as conniving as the serpent that had swayed Eve to the apple, as manipulative as Delilah on her quest to rob Samson of his strength. "Now why, pray tell, would you care to see my baby when you can't even be bothered to spend an entire month with the little girl you have waiting for you at home?"

She had not forgotten how to wound him. Through clever conversation, she had extracted his soul and picked it apart until she had found its most vulnerable reaches, rendering her power over him all but absolute. "Tivalia, I believe her name is? Besides, how are you to know that the boy is even yours?"

Searle frowned. "Sometimes, a man just has a feeling."

He did not like the way she was smiling, the way her violet eyes narrowed as she drew ever nearer. "Oh really? Did you have this same feeling with your sister's eldest?"

In under a minute she had managed to bring up both of his daughters, one of whom would only ever know him as her uncle and the other of which he had already made so many mistakes with that he didn't doubt for a second that she was better off without him. He wanted nothing more than to grab this vile witch by her black tresses and fling her into the fire, prodding her with the poker as she howled in agony. How she disgusted him--her passive-aggressive manner, her taunts and jabs, her blatant sexual power struggles.

And yet, he couldn't deny that this was exactly why he continued to see her. She was both the Anti-Danthia and the Anti-Riona. She made him appreciate both women while reminding him of neither. "Please. I just want to see him--only once, just to be sure he's really mine."

Elarys took him by the hand and spun herself into his arms. "Fair enough--but in exchange, I must ask a favor of you."

Not that I could have expected otherwise, he thought bitterly as he nuzzled the flesh between her neck and her shoulder. "And what, pray tell, would this favor be?"

"Well... the Duke of Luperia was a friend of my late father-in-law. He came for a visit some months ago, and he wished to repay us for our hospitality."

Searle knew very well just what Elarys meant by 'hospitality'. She had been 'hospitable' indeed, he was sure of it. "Go on..."

"He managed to pull a few strings with the King of Naroni--he is the man's uncle, you know--and my girls are to become ladies-in-waiting to Queen Laralita."

"And I take it you want me to escort them?" Searle did not care to return to Naroni any time soon. It was a daughter-kingdom of his native Dovia, a land that had brought him nothing but misery, and his only ally in that accursed valley was now a grieving widower who had enough on his plate without another unexpected visit from someone he was no longer obligated to accommodate. He would be brief--he would deliver Ellona and Catherelle to the king, then make his way northeast to Paris, stopping only at public inns where not a soul would know him from Adam.

She began non-verbally, throwing herself into his arms and pressing her open mouth against his own, her silver tongue wrapping around his own as if to pull it from his throat. If he was honest with himself, he liked the pain; he liked the way she filled his whole mouth, made him feel as if he was about to suffocate. "If that's not too much to ask," she breathed between fevered, arousingly stifling kisses.

"Not at all," Searle assured her as they parted. He had to see his son--nothing she could ask of him was too great

Satisfied, Elarys took a step back and smiled, her dress rolling off her shoulders and falling to a heap at her ankles as if by sheer force of will. As little as he cared for her, he had to admit to her radiance; then again, he supposed she would be a poor temptress had she not had a body so tailored to the part.

"The baby's asleep right now," she sighed as he took to fondling a lock of her dark hair. "You'll see him in the morning; meanwhile, I imagine we can keep ourselves occupied until then."

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