Guardians - Birth Of Rivalry Part 4

Chapter 9: Second Flight.

Once his breathing had steadied, Pan withdrew and moved to the washstand, filling the bowl there with warm water from the pitcher near the fire. When the bowl was full, Pan ushered Ysa over to it. Wetting the rag beside it, she cleaned between her legs. The warm liquid felt good on her raw p.u.s.s.y, and yet she bathed quickly, unable to shake the sensation of being watched by someone, or something , other than Pan.

He washed as well, his lean, hard body limned by firelight. He dried himself with a clean s.h.i.+rt from his pack, then offered it to Ysa. She patted herself dry and handed it back. Pan moved the washstand in front of the fireplace and draped the s.h.i.+rt over it to dry.

A light knock sounded at the door. Ysa grabbed a blanket from the nearest cot to cover her nakedness, watching apprehensively as he stepped over and opened it. A part of her longed for another glimpse of their sultry benefactor; the rest was utterly terrified at the prospect. However, Pan simply knelt, picking up a new pitcher and a bundle from the floor just outside. He shut the door, placing the fresh pitcher by the fire and handing the bundle to Ysa.

It was a long, white night gown trimmed with lace. Ysa pulled it on, wondering if the soft fabric had lain against Diamante's flesh. Her nipples hardened into pebbles at the thought. Shaking her head, she fought to empty her mind, pus.h.i.+ng the woman's image into a dark recess.

There was also a pair of breeches, a pale dove gray, accompanied by a white peasant blouse embellished with roses sewn in silver thread. As much as she distrusted Dia, she couldn't help admiring the fine garments. She set them atop Pan's pack, to change into in the morning.

She moved to one of the cots, the soreness between her legs causing her to wince with each step. Pan caught her hand and drew her around to face him. "I'm sorry, Ysa. You know I have never wanted to hurt you. Not... not truly."

There had always been pain in the way that they coupled. Her grandmother had warned her about that when she had described the alternative -- when Ysa had first told the woman of her frustrated desires for Vitale and of Pan's willingness to relieve that aching need, but of her own wish to save herself for the man she loved. Her grandmother's suggestion had seemed repugnant at first, yet Pan had been as gentle as possible when they had begun their trysts, and she had discovered that a certain amount of pain only intensified the pleasure. Together, they had trained the part of her body that she was willing to offer until she could accept him with only the amount of discomfort that heightened her pleasure.

Tonight... tonight he had hurt her in more ways than one. She had given him something she had been saving for another, a fact that made her heart ache. Would Vitale ever forgive her? But no, she could not blame Pan for this. She had called him to her. Bared herself to him and begged him to take her. He had even tried to resist -- briefly, yes, but that was more than she had done. There was no doubt in Ysa's mind that this had been forced on them both, somehow, by Diamante.

"It was that woman." She s.h.i.+vered. "What is she?"

He shook his head, not as though he didn't know, but as if Ysa were better off not knowing. Too exhausted to press him, she turned toward the bed. "I'm tired, Pan."

He let go reluctantly and watched as she crawled beneath the blanket, turning her face to the wall. Sighing, he lowered himself onto the other cot.

Ysa listened to his breathing. The fire had burned down to embers, their red glow picking out strange shadows in the room. After a moment, she turned and lifted the cover. "Pan?" she whispered. "I don't want to be alone."

He joined her, though the cot was barely wide enough for one, and she clung to him. He stroked her hair gently. "Don't worry, Ysa. Don't worry, my love."

Ysa drifted to sleep with those last two words echoing in her head. My love. Pan had never called her that before.

A pounding at the door woke them. Pan stumbled to the door, pulling it open. Diamante stood without. "Orphieto's men are headed this way. They will be here within the hour."

"s.h.i.+t!" Pan turned, grabbing his s.h.i.+rt from the washstand and pulling it on as Ysa stood. "How did they find us?"

Ysa started to draw the gown over her head, but stopped when she felt Diamante's gaze raking her body. The woman's bold eyes challenged her, a hint of humor twisting the corners of her lips as she silently dared Ysa to undress in front of her. Ysa looked away, picked up the dove gray pants, and pulled them on underneath the gown.

Dia laughed. "It's the curse, you know," she said, turning to Pan.

He snorted. "What curse? There is no curse."

"You know who I am," she purred. "Do you imagine that any curse spoken on this earth is beneath my notice?"

Pan muttered as he pulled on his leather buskins. "The curse isn't real."

Diamante's expression hardened. "Iam real, Pan. And if I am real, then curses are real, for I am the mother and father of them all."

Ysa shut the woman's voice from her mind. Everything she said only frightened and confused her. Quickly, she s.n.a.t.c.hed up the silver-worked blouse and turned her back to the others. Shucking the nightgown, she pulled the s.h.i.+rt over her head, tucking it into her breeches.

A silver cord folded within the bundle had fallen to the floor. Ysa reached for it, but Dia was there first. The woman picked up the cord and stepped behind her. Pulling Ysa's hair out from beneath the s.h.i.+rt, she combed it with her long, slender fingers. Ysa struggled against conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to turn and push the woman away, to run out into the world and lose herself so Dia couldn't possibly ever find her again. Another part wanted to turn and touch those soft lips with hers, to bare her b.r.e.a.s.t.s so her nipples could finally be suckled by that ripe mouth. She s.h.i.+vered, her skin crawling with goose b.u.mps.

As though she sensed Ysa's desire, Dia whispered into her ear, voice low and haunting. "In time, my sweet. I promise." While Ysa stood frozen in shock, the woman gathered her long, curly strands in one hand, looped the cord around them several times, then tied it with a knot.

Ysa pulled away. Avoiding Dia's gaze, she sat on the cot, pulling on her worn tan boots. To her dismay, her hands trembled.

"We'll head north, to Genoa," Pan was saying. "I only came this way because I did not think they would search in this direction. If they know where we are, then we must make for Genoa as quickly as possible, where I can seek my family's protection."

Diamante nodded, but her gaze rested on Ysa. "That is reasonable, isn't it, lovely Ysa?"

She nodded, but had a sinking feeling that Diamante knew something they didn't. The woman smiled slyly. "Don't worry, Pan. I have not seen you in years. As a matter of fact, I hardly remember you."

Pan nodded. Taking up his pack, he grabbed Ysa's hand and drew her after him, past Dia's haunting eyes, down the narrow stairs, and out to the stable, where his horse had been readied.

He mounted quickly, pulled Ysa up to join him, and they cantered out the gate and across the hard-packed earth.

Diamante closed the gate, staring after them. In the pre-dawn light, her eyes gleamed an unearthly red, and the tongue that snaked out from between her lips was forked. A stray bit of saliva landed on her breast, slipping slowly down to her neckline, where it hissed briefly, eating a tiny hole in the fabric.

Chapter 10: Trouble, Again.

Days later, Pan stared at the darkened windows and empty courtyard of his family's estate. A great padlock held the huge iron gates closed. He turned and eyed the street. In the twilight, those who pa.s.sed averted their gaze when he tried to meet their eyes. Ysa looked on with concern.

Pan shook his head. "Come."

He led her to a hostler's. After quickly making arrangements for their mount, they continued on foot down narrow and winding ways that became even narrower -- dark and dirty.

"Why could we not ride?" Ysa complained, after stepping in yet another rot-smelling mudhole.

Pan stopped before a tavern. "Because such prime horse-flesh would not last a minute untended on the street. And I'm sure you would not wish to be left behind to watch him."

Ysa's gaze darted, taking in the rough-looking men and women that pa.s.sed. Wearing threadbare, filthy clothing, they huddled against the cold, watching her and Pan with hard eyes. She s.h.i.+vered. "No."

Pan nodded curtly. He took her arm in his and led her into the noisy tavern.

He pushed through the crowd, finally getting close enough to catch the innkeeper's gaze. The man's eyes widened with surprise, then he nodded, pointing with his elbow toward a hallway to their right as he finished drying a tankard.

Pan veered down the hall and pushed open the first door they came to, ushering Ysa inside.

It was a private dining room. Ysa was surprised at the quality of the dark wood table and chairs, the fine weave of the wall hangings, the elaborate candlesticks set upon the table's surface. She sat in one of the well-appointed chairs, sighing. It was a relief to sit upon something other than a horse's back, and a blessing to be in a room warmed by a fire. She edged her heavy chair a little closer to the burning logs, holding out her chilled, stiff hands.

Pan leaned against the wall next to the door, watching her silently. When the door opened, he tensed, then relaxed as the innkeeper bustled through, carrying a tray laden with sliced roast and steaming loaves. Ysa's stomach clenched in pain at the savory aroma.

The keeper placed his tray on the table while Pan swung the door shut. Turning, they embraced. "Heriberto." Pan pounded the man's back heartily.

"Pan. It is good to see you." They disengaged, and the tavernkeeper's eyes raked Pan from tousled hair to dusty boot-toe. His glance took in Ysa, sitting quietly near the fire with a wary look in her eyes. "Where have you been, boy?"

"Orphieto."

"Visiting the cousins, eh?"

Pan nodded.

"So." Heriberto maneuvered his burly form into one of the chairs. "You have come to ask me what became of your family."

Pan nodded again.

"It was the Guelfs. They convinced the church to move against Genovesi. They've taken your grandfather, father, and brothers to prison and confiscated all the Genovesi holdings. Your mother and sister have taken refuge with the Daughters of G.o.d."

Pan hit the wall with his fist. "Fieschi!"

"Probably. He has the ear of the pope."

"It is the curse." Both men looked at Ysa. She stood, shaking. "It's my fault. It's the curse."

Pan speared her with a dagger-like glare. "Stop speaking nonsense." He turned back to Heriberto and rolled his eyes. "Her grandmother was a gypsy."

Ysa dropped back into her chair, gazing once more into the flames.

The other man nodded. "You will have to disappear, Pandolfo. Fieschi will be searching for you. You are the only one who escaped."

For the first time, Pandolfo's confident arrogance faltered. He stepped over to the table and sank into a chair. "s.h.i.+t."

Heriberto leaned forward. "I can tell from your expression there is more bad news."

"Something happened in Orphieto, 'Berto." Pandolfo ran a hand over his face. "It was an accident, but I am marked for death by Vincente." Ysa had stiffened when he called Vitale's death an accident, but thankfully, she did not open her mouth. "And now, Genoa has turned against me."

'Berto clasped Pan's shoulder with one broad, rugged hand. "You are my brother. You have always been there when I needed you, and I will not turn from you now."

He glanced up, chuckling as he met Ysa's startled eyes. "Yes, I am the b.a.s.t.a.r.d son of Genovesi. One of many." He shook Pan's shoulder good-naturedly. "And Pandolfo has never turned his back on me." He stood. "Eat. Drink. You will stay with me tonight, and tomorrow I will send you to Etuard. He will provide you with supplies and horses for the long trip to Calabria."

Pan gawked. "Calabria! That is at the southernmost tip of Italy! You could not possibly send me farther."

'Berto continued, a wry note in his voice. "From there, you will cross to Sicily. My uncle in Messina will welcome an ally of the Ghibellines." His eyes grew hard as flint. "He is an important man, my mother's brother. He has plans for Sicily. He could use one such as you."

"But... to go so far..."

'Berto grimaced. "Here we are locked in the struggle between Ghibelline and Guelf. You will be killed on sight if found. The only reason I am safe is because I am a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and I make no secret of hating our father." He grinned. "And, I serve the best ale in the cleanest inn in all of Italy -- even the Guelfs hesitate to offend me." His expression sobered. "With Orphieto after you, there will be no sanctuary in central Italy. I have no allies to the north, so south is the only answer. Even Sicily is involved in the great struggle, but it is firmly on the side of the Ghibellines. You will be welcomed there. Protected. Or you can stay in Calabria, but I do not think you will like it."

Pan stared into 'Berto's eyes for several moments, then lowered his head, sighing. "You are right. It is the only thing to be done." He clasped 'Berto's hand. "Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you for a brother?"

'Berto laughed. "Many times." He glanced at Ysa, then moved toward the door. "Eat. I will have Savia ready a room." He opened the door and left, pulling it shut behind him.

"Our meal grows cold, Ysa." Pan grabbed a platter from the tray and began wolfing down his first hot meal in days.

Ysa stood slowly, walking over to the table with a haunted look in her eyes. She sat, but did not take a plate, only stared through Pan as though he didn't exist.

"Ysa."

"Everything is going terribly wrong, Pan, and I don't know how to stop it."

Pan snorted. "Ysa. The winds of fortune are fickle. Houses rise and fall. None of that is your doing." He seemed to have regained his confidence. "Heriberto is right. Sicily is the place for us."

"But how will Vitale ever find me?"

He stared, the bread in his hand dripping honey, unheeded. "You do not still think he is coming for you?"

She noticed he did not dispute that Vitale was alive. So. Hedid believe. "He will come, Pan. I know he will."

Pan shook his head. "You betrayed him, Ysa."

She flinched, tears gathering in her eyes.

"I betrayed him, as well," Pan whispered softly. "Of all my cousins, I liked him best, though the rivalry over you stood between us." He reached out and covered one of her nervous hands with his. She started to pull away, but he held it tight. "I could not help myself, Ysa. You take my breath away."

She looked at him from beneath her lowered lashes, a coy glance. Pan felt a surge of satisfaction. She had always been easily swayed by pretty words. He turned her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the palm, delighted to see the small tremor that greeted his touch. "If he has truly been touched by the G.o.ds, I think he will be able to find you, Ysa. Wherever you are." He did not add that he doubted Vitalewanted to find her. Pan bit back a smile as he remembered the look on Vitale's face in the clearing.

Ysa raised her head. "You're right." The scent of roasted meat, of sweet honey, wafted toward her from the platter, and her stomach rumbled.

"Here." Pan took the other platter from the tray and placed it before her, then set a tankard of ale beside that. "You must eat."

Ysa smiled. Picking up a spoon, she ladled huge chunks of roast smothered in juices between her plump, pink lips, exclaiming in pleasure.

Pan's c.o.c.k twitched. Later, they would satisfy other appet.i.tes.

Chapter 11: The Serpent's Mark.

Unfortunately, Ysa did not hold her ale well. Pan grunted as he carried her up the wooden steps to their room. He tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed, stripped down, and stood over her. His c.o.c.k throbbed, and for a moment he ma.s.saged it, tempted to bury himself in her sweet, warm p.u.s.s.y for the second time. So juicy. So tight.

But no. He wanted her awake for that. Wanted her to feel him piercing her maidenhead yet again, wanted her to look into his eyes as she screamed with pleasure. He would force her to admit, once and for all, that Vitale had never been -- would never be -- man enough for her. Groaning, he tightened his hand on his aching staff and pumped vigorously, his breath catching when his seed spilled over his fingers and onto the floor.

Pan woke in the morning with a sense of panic. Demons with Fieschi's face had pursued him through dark woods all the night, into a clearing filled with the coils of a giant snake with five heads -- all Vincente's, all dripping venom -- and Ysa and Vitale stood together in the shadows, laughing as the great snake reached for him.

He glanced at Ysa. She was still sleeping, snoring faintly. Pan rubbed his face, waited for the trembling to pa.s.s.