Nyssa (Goddess of War Series Book 1) Read online

  Bernhardt was exceptionally sprightly for one so old, and we arrived at the kitchens in no time. As we walked in, the heat hit me, and there were so many delicious smells my stomach responded with a rumble. I had only eaten a couple of cherries before the old man had arrived, and I was ravenous.

  “Ahh, Mrs. Miller?” Bernhardt spoke to an extremely round and red-faced woman who looked to be around fifty.

  Mrs. Miller smiled to us and made her way across the kitchen, carrying a tray of freshly baked, sweet pastries. “I know what you’re after, Bernhardt, you old charmer.” She laughed and winked at us both, offering us the tray.

  Following Bernhardt’s lead, I took a pastry and bit in to it. It was apple cinnamon flavour, and it was delicious.

  Taking our spoils with us, we continued on to the outside of the castle. The gardens were breath-taking, and despite everything, I felt my heart soar as I walked along the paths with Bernhardt. There were roses of every colour, jasmine, honeysuckle, and a thousand evergreen shrubs of all shapes and sizes.

  “How long have you been here at Castle Kytara, Bernhardt?” I asked the old man as we sat on an elaborately carved bench, looking out over a water-lily covered duck pond.

  “Almost twenty years now, sweet child. I came here with Lord Odyn when he was no more than a boy. He was sixteen when he became a Valhar, the youngest there has ever been.” There was a pride in his voice, reminiscent of a parent talking fondly of a successful child.

  I wasn’t impressed. “Has he always been so evil? Even when he was a child?” I asked it without thinking and as soon as it was said, I inwardly cursed my wayward mouth.

  Bernhardt looked at me for a moment, as if trying to decide how to answer my question. He didn’t seem angry, just thoughtful. “I didn’t know Odyn when he was a young child. Our paths crossed when he was fourteen years old, and we have remained together ever since. I can’t say what he was like before he was Keshkana.”

  I caught my breath as the old man used the nickname. He said it so casually, his face not changing as he finished speaking. “I thought he would kill anyone who used that name?” I said.

  The old man smiled so sadly, I thought my heart might break in two for him as he replied. “Ahh, sweet child, I don’t use it as a name. I use it as a fact. What I meant to say was, I didn’t know Odyn before he became Keshkana, before he truly was, touched by death.”

  He reached out and gently patted my hand. “Come, child, we must get you back to your room. The day draws late,”

  I hadn’t realised we had spent so long walking through the gardens. The shadows were lengthening, and the sun was starting to turn into red wildfire, burning across the sky. But I didn’t want to stop there. I wanted to know what the old man meant. I started to speak, but he shook his head at me and gestured back toward the castle.

  “We have talked enough for today Nyssa. We will talk again soon, I promise.”

  We reached the castle and walked up the steps and into the labyrinth of corridors. All the way back, I was wondering what Bernhardt had meant by Lord Odyn truly being touched by death. I had heard all of the stories, of course. You could hardly live in Kytara and not hear the superstitions surrounding the most infamous Valhar in history. Legend had it the Goddess of Death, Shyara, had fallen in love with Odyn because he was so beautiful but the God of War, Asmodeus, was jealous of their relationship, and so he punished Lord Odyn by making him the most bloodthirsty warlord in the history of Ankh Shdaar. Doomed to carry the guilt of sending ten million men to their deaths, if you believed the fable.

  Because he was reputed to have taken Shyara to bed, that was where the name Keshkana, “Touched by Death” had come from. It was all just a story. There hadn’t been anything close to ten million lives lost throughout the entire war, let alone in the eighteen years that Lord Odyn had been Kytara’s Valhar. But the common folk loved a good fable, and once a rumour starts it’s almost impossible for it to ever disappear completely. Although something told me that Bernhardt hadn’t been talking about the story of Shyara and Odyn.

  We rounded a corner, walking in silence, and I pondered what Bernhardt had said. Suddenly, coming toward us from the other direction was Lord Odyn Rygard himself, flanked by two of his guardsmen. I stopped and started edging slowly toward the wall of the corridor, fear gripping me.

  Bernhardt paused beside me to allow his lord to pass. Lord Odyn didn’t stop or even slow down, but as soon as he saw me, he altered his course from the centre of the hallway and strode up to me. His eyes were hungry as he took in the low cut of my dress and the splits in the skirt. He came to a stop inches away from me, and I felt my back hit the stone of the wall behind me as I edged away.

  He touched his fingers to the exposed part of my chest, and I shivered. He carried on tracing them upward until he got to my collarbone and then my neck. The next thing I knew, his hand was around my throat, and he leaned into me. His mouth tickled my ear, and I could feel his breath coming hard and fast as he whispered, “Tonight. You will come to me tonight, girl.” He leaned back a fraction and looked into my eyes with a dark and angry desire. Then he let go of my throat and turned to walk away from me. He looked to Bernhardt before he left. “Have her brought to me tonight, old friend.”

  Bernhardt looked like he might argue, but then he seemed to think better of it and instead nodded. “My lord.”

  Without another glance at me, Keshkana was gone, his guards following behind him.

  As soon as we were back in the room, I whirled on Bernhardt. All thoughts of his kindness and our conversation earlier forgotten. “You sold me out. You didn’t even argue with him. I was starting to think you were a good man, Bernhardt. I thought you might help me. But you’re just like him and the General,” I spat. The fear had become unbearable, and I paced back and forth across the room, my hands twisted in my hair. I pulled so hard some of the copper strands came loose. The pain was intense, but I didn’t care, I wanted to hurt myself, I wanted to pull out my hair. If I was ugly, then he wouldn’t want me, wouldn’t want to hurt me.

  “Sweet girl, sweet, sweet child.” He reached out to me and took my face gently in his wrinkled hands before continuing. “You will hurt yourself if you don’t stop. You have to get control of yourself.”

  His soft words and his concerned eyes filled me with an even deeper sorrow. Completely overcome, I fell to the floor. My cream dress forgotten as it pooled around me, and I sobbed.

  Bernhardt struggled to his knees and tenderly encircled me in his thin arms, speaking soothingly. “I’m so sorry, child. No one can tell Odyn what to do, and if I tried, he would want to have you even more. I didn’t want to make it any worse for you than it has to be.” He stroked my hair as he spoke, and I began to calm down.

  “I know. I know that you can’t really stop him. You’re an old man, and he is the Valhar of Kytara. He would only hurt you if you tried, and I wouldn’t want that, Bernhardt, not really.” I smiled weakly at him.

  He raised his eyebrows at that and looked as though he was about to disagree with me. But then he thought better of it and simply said, “I will call your maids to you. You will need to bathe and change your clothes.”

  I laughed a little at that. I had never had so many changes of clothes in my whole life.

  “Calm yourself, Nyssa, and try to eat.” I noticed that my never-ending food supply had been attended to while I was in the gardens.

  “Your ladies will be along soon.” Bernhardt let go of me and stood, but before he left, he bent and placed his open hand on the top of my head. “May the goddess watch over you tonight, sweet child.” And with that, he was gone. He really did move fast for an old man.

  I picked myself up and walked over to the table. The range of foods was so deliciously tempting. There were game pies and sweet pastries, carved ham, water wafers, and three different cheeses. Yet as I looked them over, my stomach rebelled, so instead I turned my attention to the pitcher of wine. If I was going to be taken to the Keshkana tonight, then
at least I could do one thing about it. “Let me be numb,” I thought out loud as I poured a cup and drank it back in two quick swallows before hastily pouring a second.

  The maids arrived quickly, but I had already almost finished the entire pitcher of wine by the time they came. They looked nervously at me. It was obvious they knew why they were here, and just by looking at the state of my hair and tear-streaked cheeks, they could tell I wasn’t happy about it. I wobbled on my feet and one of the maids stepped forward to take the pitcher from my hand while the other went through to the bathing room, presumably to start the bath.

  I hissed at the girl who took the pitcher from me. “Bring me another.” It sounded like a command rather than a request, but the girl held firm and shook her head “I think you-”

  “What’s your name?” I said with a slight slur in my voice, cutting her off.

  The girl began to look worried. “My name is Gidren, mistress, and I think maybe I could get you some water?” she suggested in a concerned tone.

  I growled. Then stepping forward so my face was just inches from Gidren’s, I whispered, “I don’t want water. I want more fucking wine. You’re here to make me ready for him aren’t you?”

  Gidren nodded and looked to the floor, guilt and perhaps pity in her eyes.

  “I’m sure you know what he is, Gidren. I’m sure you know what he is going to do to me, so get me what I need to make it through it. Please?” I finished.

  After a brief moment of indecision, Gidren bowed her head slightly and left the room carrying the pitcher.

  By the time the girl returned with the new pitcher of wine, I had already been coaxed into the bathtub by the other maid. This time the water smelled of something different than jasmine. It was a heady blend of sensual spices and floral notes. It was intoxicating. Between the scent and the heat of the water, my head began to spin a little. When Gidren brought me a new cup, I wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea to drink any more, so I pointed to a table and waved her away.

  After I had cleaned myself, I stepped out of the bath and walked over to a bowl of cold water. I splashed it on my face to try and get rid of the nausea that was building inside me. It helped a little, and I wrapped the towel robe around myself. Walking back through to the bed chamber, I wondered where my anger at Gidren had come from. I was even starting to sound like Lord Odyn or General Roeseer, speaking to people like they were my servants.

  I thought Gidren looked a little relieved when she saw that I was still standing. “Come mistress, we will see to your hair and make-up.” She took me by the arm and guided me to a chair that had been placed in the centre of the room.

  “Make-up?” I squeaked in surprise. Being a total tomboy meant that I had never worn anything to enhance my features. I was always just myself and it had always been enough for me.

  “You must. Please, mistress?” Gidren almost begged. She was obviously waiting for another outburst. Feeling a little guilty I complied, and sat without another word.

  They worked on my face and hair for almost an hour, applying black kohl to my eyes, rouge to my cheeks and a shimmering pink gloss to my lips. My hair was tugged and twisted to create intricate designs at the top and sides which fell in to large, loose curls cascading down my back. When they stood me up and removed my robe, I almost protested, but seeing Gidren cringe I relented, allowing them to rub sweet smelling oils all over my body. I tensed a little and blushed as Gidren’s hands ran over my breasts, and then my ass cheeks, covering them in the oil. I chose that moment to recommence my wine drinking and swallowed another cup to a reproving look from both women.

  The final touch was a long, dark dress. As the second maid carried it over, I frowned. It was beautiful, that was true. It was such a dark blue, it was midnight, with a plunging neckline and several slits in the skirt. The material was delicately decorated in tiny sparkling crystals. It had straps rather than sleeves, and it was made of almost completely see-through material.

  “This is a night-dress,” I protested as they approached me.

  Gidren flushed. “Yes mistress, you are going to bed.” She put emphasis on the word “are.”

  I grudgingly allowed them to dress me in it. As the second maid fastened the shimmering catch at the waist, I thought to myself it was the most pointless dress I had ever seen. As I slipped my feet into the pair of silver crystal slippers offered to me by Gidren I thought that now seemed a good time for more wine, and I quickly obliged myself before the maids could protest.

  “There, done.” Gidren stepped back looking pleased with their work and gestured toward the mirror.

  My legs were now past wobbly and almost in the realm of “unable to move.” As I approached the mirror. I took in my reflection and was shocked by how different I looked. I eyed the plunging neckline showing off my pale, oiled chest. Enough of my breasts were on show to invite a man to want to see more. The skirt glistened and shone like stars as I moved, revealing far too much of my body. The dark blue colour of the dress highlighted just how white my skin was, and you could see almost every part of my body silhouetted through the sheer material. My hair and make-up were immaculate. I gasped. I looked beautiful.

  “We will leave you now, mistress.” Gidren and the other maid started toward the door.

  “Wait. What do I do now?” I felt stupid asking the question, but I really had no idea what to do next.

  “You wait.” She replied, not unkindly. “He will send for you when he is ready.”

  As they left me alone I turned back to the mirror, wondering if I should just undo all of it right then. Tear out those intricate loops in my hair and smear the black across my eyes. Take off the dress and put the towel robe back on. But I didn’t think any of that would help. There was no way of escaping him. All I could do was sit and wait for him to summon me. Oh, and the wine. There was still the wine, I thought.

  When the armoured guard came to take me to Lord Odyn, I was trembling. I had drunk enough wine to probably take down a horse, and the room wavered as I opened the door. The guard didn’t say a word. He simply stood back from the doorway to allow me to step from the room. Although I did notice that his eyes never left my body, taking in the outline of my curves through the clinging material of the gown. As we walked, I inwardly cursed myself for drinking so much. Rapidly realising that numbing my senses came with a cost, a cost that meant I was now more vulnerable than ever. I had no co-ordination to fight him off me, and I knew I would have even less control of my mouth now than ever before. What I had done was foolhardy and dangerous. As if to compound my thoughts, I caught my foot on the hem of my gown and stumbled forward.

  I cursed out loud this time. But the guard had clearly been paying attention and leaned forward to catch me around my waist before I could fall. “Try to relax,” he said at last. “It will go easier for you if you do.” His eyes were kind, but his hand lingered on my waist a little too long, and my agitation increased. I batted his hand away and almost fell backward this time. I have to pull myself together. My thoughts stopped abruptly as we reached the gilt doors to Lord Odyn’s chamber. I wanted to turn and run. I wanted to be as far away from that place as I could get. Back home to the bakery and my mother and Haydyn.

  The guards at the door nodded to my escort. I vaguely realised in the back of my alcohol-fuddled head that they didn’t come to attention for this man like they did for the General. Suddenly I found myself thinking back to the look on Astarin Roeseer’s face when he had been in my room before he left. I missed him, I realised and wanted him to be there so very much. He would take me away from this. He would keep me safe. Then I came crashing back to myself, snorting laughter in a very unladylike way. He brought me there for this monster and then left me with him to do as he pleased. I hated them both. That was the point where I gave up. I gave up fighting completely and entered Lord Odyn’s chamber.

  The smell of the room was the first thing to hit me; the chocolate spice scent filled my nose, but this time it didn’t feel sensual
. It felt oppressive, and I felt a wave of vertigo catch me. I stopped just over the threshold and heard the door close behind me. Scanning the room, I found him sitting behind his desk. He was stretched out, leaning back in his chair. I didn’t think he had been looking at papers this time. More likely he had been waiting for me to arrive.

  There was a half-empty wine cup in front of him, accompanied by a pitcher and a second cup he leaned languidly forward to fill. He was casually dressed in a black, open-necked tunic coupled with loose-fitting black trousers. Once the cup was filled, he lifted it and stood. As he walked toward me, I could see his black eyes taking in every part of my body. I looked down toward the floor, ashamed and afraid. But the candlelight kept catching the crystals on my gown, and as they glistened and sparkled in the flicker of the lights my head began to spin again.

  Looking up quickly, I gasped to find his face just inches from mine. I could feel the heat from his body and smell the teasing scent of him. The flickering candlelight picked out the lightest red highlights in his hair, and his pale skin was kissed by the glow of the flames. He was terrifying and beautiful at the same time. He raised the hand that wasn’t holding the cup of wine, and hooking his fingers under my chin, he lifted my face so he could look at me. He took in the make-up on my face and lifting his thumb, he teased it across my glossy lower lip, smearing it. “Gah. You look like a fucking whore.” He thrust the wine into my hand and turned to walk away. Then he settled back into his chair.

  That made me so angry, I could see my own blood vessels bursting in grey stars before my eyes. I clenched my fists and took a fierce step forward. My mind screamed internally to stop and shut up. He’ll kill you, my good sense hollered at me inside my head. But I just didn’t care. I hated him, I hated what he had done to my father, my family, and now me. The rage took over and the two pitchers of wine from earlier were probably on the side-lines somewhere along the way shouting their own encouraging words. “I AM a whore,” I exploded. “That’s just what you’ve brought me here to be. I was cleaned up and fussed over and dressed up just like this, so that I could come here to be your bed mate.”