The next day, Chiana awoke. The first sign of her revival was the tears that seeped from beneath her eyelids, then she started to sob. Her maidens rushed to prepare a hot broth and a cup of mulled wine, but Verdan watched her with growing concern. She moaned and tossed, then sat up with a huge gasp, her eyes flying open. A multitude of expressions chased each other across her face.
Grief, pain and rage, horror, hatred and intense sorrow. She drew a great breath and cried Inka's name in a sorrowful, broken wail, tears streaming down her cheeks. Verdan sat beside her and reached for her hands to try to comfort her, but she snatched them away. Flinging back the covers, she slid from the bed, clad only in her satin nightgown. Chiana raced across the room, heading for the doors that opened onto the balcony two floors above the ground, and Verdan gasped as he realised her intent.
"Stop her!"
His shout galvanised the maidens, and two sprinted to intercept her before she reached the doors, grabbing her arms. She fought them like a wild animal, kicking, scratching and growling, her eyes wild and her lips drawn back in a snarl. Two more maidens entered the fray, and were kicked and scratched for their pains. As they struggled, Verdan turned to the only maiden not involved in the tussle.
"Fetch Lord Conash. Run!"
The girl fled, and Verdan approached the wrestling women, trying to grab one of Chiana's flailing arms. He received a smack in the face for his troubles, and retreated, moving around them to bar the doors instead. Chiana spat and snarled, shouting at the women to let her go and cursing them foully. It took all four of them to hold her, for she seemed to possess incredible strength. Verdan attempted to soothe her with soft words, but she was deaf to his entreaties. One of the maidens yelped as Chiana got hold of her hair and tried to rip it out by the roots.
After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened to admit the assassin, who took in the violent scene with a glance. He walked across the room towards Verdan, his face a mask, and when he reached the doors, he waved the old healer away.
As soon as Verdan had moved aside, Blade said, "Let her go."
Verdan opened his mouth to protest, but the maidens were more than willing to relinquish their hold on Chiana, and released her. Chiana flew at her husband, her hands outstretched like claws, reaching for his face. His hands flashed up to grab her wrists, preventing her from clawing his face. She wrenched free with a growl, twisting past him to lunge for the glass-paned doors. Blade whipped around and caught her by the waist, sweeping her away from them, then flung her from him before she could attack him.
Chiana landed hard, skidding across the smooth floor as she clawed at it. She sprang to her feet and charged him again. He sidestepped and grabbed her waist once more, throwing her back into the room. She rolled across the floor, scrabbling for purchase, then jumped up and flew at him again. This time Blade stood his ground, and she crashed into his chest so hard that he staggered back. His hands moved in a blur to grip her wrists, but not before she managed to slap him.
Chiana strived to jerk free while he hung on, struggling to stay on his feet as his boots skidded on the smooth floor. She threw herself about in a frenzy, dragging him around with amazing strength. Blade's expression was cold and grim, yet his eyes burnt with rage.
Just when Verdan was becoming convinced that Chiana had gone completely and irrevocably mad, she straightened and tossed back her tangled hair. She met Blade's wintry gaze, her eyes ablaze with fury.
"Let me go!"
"No. If you want to die, Chiana, then do it. Die. Follow her into the Everlasting, but not by going through that door."
Verdan opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. In this situation he knew nothing, and was not about to interfere.
Chiana snarled, "I cannot! You know I cannot. Let me go!"
"No."
"You bastard! I hate you!"
"Of course you do. If you want to go through that door, then kill me. Here." Blade released one of her wrists and drew a dagger from his belt, which he pressed into her hand.
Verdan's heart leapt into his mouth, and Chiana's eyes lighted as she gripped the weapon's hilt. She tried to turn it upon herself, but Blade caught her wrist and twisted it until the weapon was pressed to his throat.
"Come on, Chiana. You want to die? Kill me first. Then you can die, I promise. Do it!"
Chiana's face twisted, and she pressed the dagger against his throat until blood oozed from its razor edge. At the sight of it, her eyes widened and she gave a broken whimper, releasing the weapon, which clattered to the floor. Verdan let out his pent breath in a sigh. She sobbed and crumpled, falling to her knees. Blade went down on one knee, still holding her wrists.
"You want to die? Come on then, kill me. You can do it." Blade picked up the dagger and pressed it into her hand again.
She lifted her head and glared at him, raising the dagger. His eyes narrowed. Tears ran down her cheeks, then she flung the weapon away with a sob and beat him with her fist instead.
"Let me go!"
He caught her flailing arm, preventing her from pounding on his chest, and raised his head to glare at Verdan. "Get out, all of you."
The healer hesitated, loath to quit the room while the situation was still so volatile, then followed the maidens, who ran to obey Blade's command.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Blade turned to gaze down at his sobbing wife.
"Let me go, Blade. Please, let me die," she begged.
"No. You still have much to do. I do not intend to remain Regent for the next ten years. You have a kingdom to rule."
"I do not care! They can all go to Damnation!"
"I know. And they probably will, but Inka has gone to the Everlasting. Her suffering has ended forever."
"I want to join her." Chiana raised a pale, tear-ravaged face, gaunt from deprivation and suffering. "I am so alone."
"If I can endure it, so can you."
"I do not want to."
Blade stood up and pulled her to her feet, giving her a shake when she sagged against him. "I do not care what you want. I will not let you go through that door, and begging does not move me, as you should know."
"Many have begged you for their lives, but how many have begged you to kill them? Kill me, Blade. It is the one thing at which you are really good."
"I swore that I would not, remember? And few lived long enough to beg for their lives when I was sent to kill them."
She glowered at him, trying to tug her wrists from his grip. "I hate you."
"Good. Hate me, I do not care. But if you hate me, why did you not kill me?"
"Because I am not a murderer."
A slight smile tugged at his lips. "Good answer."
"You are a cold-hearted bastard."
"Yes, I am."
"Let me go!"
Blade released her, and she swayed without his support, then tried to move around him. He stepped into her path, and she frowned at him.
"Get out of my way."
"Make me. Do you think you are quick enough to get past me? Try."
She shook her head. "I am not a fool."
"Then kill me. Here." He drew another dagger and held it out. "Do it, and you are free to leap to your death."
Chiana slapped his hand away. "No."
"Why not?"
"I have told you."
"Ah, yes, you are not a murderer. What are you afraid of? The axe man?"
"No." She stepped towards him and shoved him in the chest, forcing him to step back. "You bastard. You are a lying, deceitful, cold-blooded killer."
"Goading me will not work either, I am afraid." He sheathed the dagger. "And that was not a very good attempt at insulting me. It is all perfectly true."
Chiana clutched her chest. "It hurts."
"I know." He took her wrist and dragged her over to the bed, pushing her down on it. She glared up at him, and his eyes flicked away, gazing into the distance.
"When I woke from my sleep, I was in chains, shackled to the boys on either side of me. I was empty. But not just empty, for the void within me was filled with agony. My familiar had been disembowelled, and I felt his pain as if it was my own.
"His death dragged me into the darkness with him, and I shall never forget the pain of it. When I woke, I tried to kill myself with the chains, but the boys stopped me. Their familiars had not been killed; they were a lizard and a beetle. A Cotti officer came and unshackled me. He took me to his tent and tied my hands behind my back, then left me. I wept."
His eyes flicked back to her and roamed over her face, lingering on the trails of moisture that still ran down her cheeks. "I wept for days. My tears washed away the pain. Not all of it, but enough to let me live with it, as I still do. From the moment I wake to the time I sleep, I still feel it. Revenge fuelled me, and I lived for it."
"I do not want vengeance," she whispered. "I only want to die."
"That will pass, and I will promise you a gift if you promise to live. I will bring you Endor and make him suffer before he dies."
She looked away. "I do not care if he dies, and I have no wish to see it."
Blade slapped her. Chiana gasped and tried to jump up, but he shoved her back. She glared at him, holding her cheek. Her eyes, which had been flooding with melancholy, filled once more with fury.
A mocking smile curled his lips. "That is better. Hate me, Chiana. Live for the hate. Let it sustain you."
"I do hate you, you bastard. You have brought me nothing but pain, and you still do."
"And chances are, I always will. But now you know why, do you not?"
She lowered her gaze. "Yes."
"Good. And hate is good. It is better than the melancholy and endless sorrow into which most people plunge. They spend the rest of their miserable existence waiting for death to release them from the torture of their empty lives. Unless they have someone to hate."
"Like you."
"Yes." He sat beside her. "And now you hate me, because the one creature you loved above all else is gone, and you cannot allow yourself to love anyone else."
Chiana buried her face in her hands and sobbed, her thin shoulders shaking. Blade sighed and draped a blanket around her to stave off the cold, then lay down and rubbed his chest where she had hit him. He waited for the next outburst, which did not take long to come. She leapt up and dashed for the balcony again. He rolled off the bed, his boots skidding on the smooth floor.
A rug almost floored him, but he grabbed the back of her nightgown and yanked her off her feet. He caught her before she cracked her head on the floor, fell to his knees and held her against his chest. Chiana flailed at him, landing several painful blows on his head and face before he grabbed her wrists. Turning her head, she tried to bite his arm, but he kept it out of her reach. She twisted to glare up at him with impotent fury, then spat in his face.
"Damn you! I hope you rot in Damnation, you bastard!"
"I probably will." He wiped his cheek on his sleeve and waited for her to give up the unequal struggle, holding her pinned. Her fury was uncharacteristic, and he knew that it stemmed from the severing of the ties with her gentle familiar. Already she was losing the soft nature and meek ways of a woman of doves and reverting to the true nature of an unbonded person. He recalled his own unbonding, and the strange hatred and rage that had engulfed him when he had woken after his familiar's death, emotions alien to cat kin.
Blade had sensed the draining away of his affectionate nature into the cold emptiness that dwelt where his heart had been. Chiana's original character would now come to the fore, and, since dove kin were not known for their affection, he had to assume that her former affectionate ways had been a part of her original nature. In time, when the initial rush of hatred and rage that always followed a familiar's death had worn off, some of her prior, more pleasant traits would return.
Becoming aware that she had stopped struggling, he rose to his feet and pulled her up, then dragged her back to the bed and pushed her down on it again. To an outsider his actions would seem cruel and heartless, but he knew that comfort was the last thing she needed right now. People who were lavished with sympathy and affection inevitably took the spiralling downward road of self-pity and apathy, falling into a deep depression from which they never recovered. Most people who lost their familiars became dull, blank-eyed individuals who existed rather than lived. He was not going to allow that to happen to her, and when she bowed her head and wept again, he slapped her.
Chiana's head jerked up, and she glared at him, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks. He leant over her and thrust his face close to hers, meeting her furious eyes.
"Come on, Chiana, hate me. Hit me! You want to, I know you do."
Chiana lashed out, and he ducked in the nick of time. Frustration flared in her eyes. She lunged at him, took him by surprise and landed a glancing blow on his cheek as he jerked his head aside. He pushed her back onto the bed, sending her sprawling, but she sat up quickly, her eyes bright with rage. Already she was entering the silent phase of the slow healing process that would take many days to complete, and it was unlikely that she would speak again during that time. She glared at him, and he sat beside her to study her grim, tight-lipped visage.
"Good, you are coming along well. I do hate being a punching bag, so I hope you will appreciate this one day. Want to take another swing at me?"
As he had anticipated, the slightest provocation was enough to bring a reaction, and she aimed a slap at his face. He evaded it, which added to her ire, and she flailed at him, forcing him to fend off or avoid her blows, although a few landed. When she stopped, he goaded her again, braving several more attacks as he continued to rile her until she failed to react. She stared into space, and he waited. After a few minutes, she rose and wandered around the room. Her eyes flicked to the balcony doors often, and he was ready to prevent another rush at them. Instead, she continued to roam the room, picking up things and throwing them down.
Priceless vases and ornaments smashed on the floor, then, when that lost its appeal, she hurled things. She was entering her destructive phase, something he had not had the luxury of going through. Ornaments flew across the room, smashing the wall mirrors, and when all the breakables were exhausted, she started on the curtains. Silk and velvet drapes were ripped down with satisfying rending noises, then kicked across the room. When the windows were bare, the tapestries followed, then the pictures. Blade watched with a slight smile as his gentle wife proceeded to trash the room, leaving piles of torn cloth and broken china in her wake. Lastly, she yanked open her wardrobe and pulled out her gowns, ripping them up as much as she could before hurling them across the room.
When only a few dresses remained on the hangers, she sank down, her face blank and pale with exhaustion. Thirteen days in a coma had left her weak and dehydrated, despite the sugar water Verdan had fed her, and until now, fury and grief had fuelled her. Now that was exhausted. Blade rose, stretched, and walked over to pull her to her feet, helping her to the bed, where he pushed her down. Her eyelids drooped, and he lifted her legs onto the bed and pulled the covers over her. When she closed her eyes, he went to the doors and let himself out. Verdan and several maidens waited outside, and the old healer hurried over to Blade, his face taut with concern.
"Is she all right?"
"She will be."
Verdan sagged. "Thank God."
"He had nothing to do with it."
"How is she?"
"Asleep. Have someone sit with her. I need a drink."
Verdan caught Blade's arm as he turned away. "My Lord, should you not stay?"
"No."
"What about when she wakes?"
"Call me. But do not speak to her, understand? She will not talk to you right now, anyway."
"What happened? We heard things breaking."
Blade jerked his arm from the healer's grasp. "She will need new furnishings, ornaments and clothes."
"Will she not try to kill herself again?"
"She may, but not while she is asleep."
Chiana slept through the night, and Blade spent a good portion of it indulging in a generous bout of drinking. Arken woke him at dawn to inform him that his wife was awake, and Verdan urgently required his presence. He groaned and clutched his aching head when he sat up, waiting until the throbbing ebbed slightly before he rose and dressed.
Verdan met him at Chiana's door, looking anxious. Blade found his wife up and dressed in a pale grey gown, suspiciously serene. Her maidens bustled around her, laced her gown and brushed her hair while she stood staring into space. She ignored his arrival, and he turned to Verdan, running a hand through his hair.
"What is the problem?"
"Is she all right? She will not speak."
"No, she will not for a while yet."
Blade yawned and flopped into a chair, eyeing his wife, who stood like a statue, her hands folded before her. A maiden entered carrying a tray laden with a plate of grilled ham, poached eggs, and a pot of aromatic tea. She placed it on a table and poured the tea, adding milk and sugar. The girls tugged Chiana over to it, and although she followed them, she ignored the food.
Blade stifled another yawn. "She will not eat."
The room had been tidied, he noticed. The torn curtains and broken ornaments were gone, leaving it bare and drab. Chiana wandered around it, ignoring the girls' attempts to make her sit down. Blade watched them with growing irritation.
"Leave her alone," he finally said.
They retreated to a twittering huddle, and Verdan turned to the assassin.
"How long will she be like this?"
Blade shrugged. "I do not know."
"How long were you like this?"
"Two days."
"Then she will talk again?"
The assassin accepted a cup of tea from a maiden and sipped it with a grimace. "Perhaps."
Verdan snorted. "I thought you knew about this?"
"It is different for everyone." Blade studied his wife. "She was bonded to her familiar far longer than I was to mine, so her grief will be greater."
"Will she try to kill herself again?"
"Probably."
Verdan sighed and sank down in the chair opposite Blade, eyeing the assassin. "Tell me about what happened to you."
"Why would you want to know that?"
"It may help me to understand her."
Blade lowered his eyes to the steaming cup of tea on the table. He disliked the stuff, but he was thirsty after his bout of drinking, and it was wet. The memories of his ordeal had dimmed with time, though some were still bright with pain, and he had never spoken about it to anyone. Now Chiana's suffering brought it all back, and he found that he was not averse to telling the old healer.
"Two dozen children were taken from my village," he said, "but only a handful lost their familiars. Most were bonded to small creatures that escaped unharmed, like birds and insects, a few lizards and mice, a couple of snakes. After I woke, I was tied up in an officer's tent and left alone, for the most part. The Cotti had plenty of experience in dealing with the Bereft. They knew exactly what to do, so they made no mistakes. The officer would come in from time to time and kick or slap me, and he made certain that I could not kill myself."
Verdan's brows rose. "You wanted to?"
"Oh yes, all people do when they find themselves Bereft. I was kept tied up through all the stages of the unbonding. I lay unmoving for four days. First there is the strong wish to follow the familiar into death. When that fails, rage takes over, and hatred. During this stage, I wanted to kill the officer who kept me in his tent, but of course, I could not.
"After a few time-glasses this wears off, and then I just wanted to destroy everything around me. This is followed by a few days of introspection, when I was oblivious to my surroundings, as she is now. During this time most people come to terms with their loss and resolve to continue living, though some are little more than zombies. After that I became rational again, but I was a different person."
The healer glanced at Chiana, his expression grim. "What do you mean by unbonding?"
"I lost most of my feline traits, just as she is losing her dove's gentleness. Without a familiar, we are merely human."
"And truly alone."
Blade sipped his tea and pulled a face. "Yes. The sorrow can be overwhelming, and after losing my parents and familiar in the battle, I was forced to watch my sisters die. Chiana will be spared that, so she should not become too different."
"Why did you tell her to kill you?"
"Because I knew she could not, and her attempts to make herself do it would purge the desire for it."
"Why did she want to kill someone? I thought she only wished to end her own life."
The assassin smiled. "But I was preventing her, so she wanted to remove me."
"I see." Verdan stared at his clasped hands. "So now we wait."
"Yes."