The world was this beautiful blur for days for Veshier. He was lavished in riches and food and attention. Now, he lay back, in the High Priestess's bed, clad in silk robes as she fed him fruit from her slender fingers. It was a haze of sex and excess that left him dazzled, confused and exhausted.
Veshier found he couldn't stop staring at Liriel. He had no idea everything was so beautiful. The energies of things were beautiful, and he'd been grateful for that much. But this gift Liriel had given him...nothing else compared.
She smiled sweetly at him, her face so lovely and so sublime, it brought tears to his eyes and he ducked his head, unable to bear it. It ached his chest and made his head swim.
"What is it, Veshier?" she asked, her voice, as always lyrical and musical, soft and seductive.
"You are so beautiful it hurts," he answered honestly. They shared a bond now. Lying was pointless. She could feel how he felt.
He could feel her pleasure at his words, though, strangely, there was something she was always holding back. Hiding. The bond left him splayed open to her, every feeling a loud broadcast. But not her. He felt her feelings far more dully than he had with Linarra. He felt she concealed things from him. Veshier didn't fault Liriel. Ancient and complicated, powerful and responsible for the world's salvation, he couldn't imagine the weight on her slender shoulders.
"How you flatter me," she said, as though delighted. "I merely want you to enjoy these few days. Adjust to having sight. We leave soon."
His head snapped up in surprise. He wanted to see her face again. It was addictive, like drinking warm, sweet wine. It intoxicated him. "Leaving?"
Liriel nodded. "Yes. We must find your...former Initiate. And the Usurper. And destroy them both."
They hadn't discussed Linarra much, if at all. He had come to her chamber to tell her, to seek guidance and instruction and had instead fallen into her bed, become her Guardian and lover and the rest was all a blur. He'd twice tried to bring it up, only to be seduced into silence. Liriel had an insatiable sexual appetite. They'd fucked dozens of times in three days until he lay spent and reeling.
It came as no surprise that the High Priestess would want both Linarra and the Usurper destroyed. He hadn't even told her that he'd caught Linarra writhing under the Destroyer of the World as though they were lovers. He tried not even thinking about it. It just dredged up a thousand confusing, upsetting emotions.
He'd grown so fond of Linarra. He'd loved her, he could admit it to himself now. Whether that was a product of the bond or not, he didn't know. It didn't matter, he'd felt what he'd felt. And she'd betrayed him so completely. In every way.
"Don't think of her," Liriel said so coldly he flinched.
"I...I'm sorry, High Priestess," he stammered, feeling like a child caught doing something naughty. "It's just...I feel responsible," he lied. Though, he supposed he did in a way.
She gave him a wan, thin smile, tucking a strand of his hair behind an ear. Again, his gaze wandered to her naked body and he felt struck dumb by her loveliness. He wanted her again. He felt his body stirring at the mere sight of her.
"You are not. I knew she was wicked. I knew this would happen. The Mother told this to me. It is, of course, a part of her divine plan. In order to destroy the Usurper, he had to be freed. He is weak now. But won't be always. We must strike while he gathers his strength and see that he doesn't reach his...former power." Liriel trailed her cool fingers along his jaw as she spoke. "As for the traitor Linarra," she said with a sneer, "I shall do away with her myself. She is damned. Condemned by the Mother. She shall be obliterated entirely. Down to the worthless scraps of her ragged soul."
It didn't sit well with him. He knew she was right. The Mother condemning Linarra was only right, considering what she'd done. He knew that. Without a doubt.
But it hurt. He didn't expect it to hurt quite so badly. Linarra wasn't evil, he thought in sudden rebellion. She was just lost and confused, angry. Lonely. Did she deserve condemnation? What if she were truly repentant?
He watched Liriel's face, knowing he couldn't hide his feelings from her. He watched stark hot rad spoil her delicate features. Her nostrils flared. Without warning, her hand collided with his cheek with enough force to white-out his vision. Veshier took it with a grunt.
"Forgive me," he murmured. "It is my arrogance."
"Of course, I forgive you," she said sweetly as though it were nothing. As though she hadn't just struck him. "But the Mother is out of mercy, Veshier. Watch your thoughts."
He nodded mutely, though much to his chagrin, his desire had not waned in the slightest. He wanted to punish her for striking him like that. Her arrogance, her cold demeanor. He'd never felt anything like it before. Veshier didn't like it, but wouldn't lie to himself. He wanted to pin the High Priestess to the bed and take her roughly.
He raised his gaze once more to her face, and she regarded him with open amusement, a gilded brow raised as if to say 'well?'.
It was a challenge he couldn't back down from. It was a spell woven around his head and heart. His hands snapped out before he could stop himself and he took her by the shoulders and threw her to the bed, much more roughly than he'd ever touched a woman.
She didn't look or sound surprised.
Like an animal, he rolled on top of her, a hand around her slender throat. She looked up at him, lips parted, face flushed in desire. He felt her want, her desire in the bond. She wasn't afraid of him. She didn't feel punished. He was just doing exactly as she wanted.
Veshier fucked her with his hand around her throat. He was rough. Mean. It wasn't love making. Every thrust of his hips, every slap of his flesh against hers was fueled by rage. He'd never felt so angry. How could she be so callous? How could she not understand what he'd felt for Linarra?
In that moment, his mind wanted to think of Linarra instead. Wanted to punish her for freeing the Usurper. He wondered if they were lovers now. If she moaned for the Prince of Lies as the High Priestess moaned for him. If only he knew what she looked like just so he could imagine it better, just so he could more acutely torture himself.
Fucking Liriel felt like torture. She was wet and beautiful and wanted him. He wanted her with equal measure. He wanted Linarra too. He wanted Linarra to want him more than she'd wanted the Usurper. He came inside the High Priestess, spent and angry and ashamed. He hung his head, releasing her throat. When he looked down at her, he saw angry livid marks where his fingers had been pressed too tightly into her ivory skin.
"I forgot myself, I'm sorry," he said raggedly.
"Don't apologize," she said stiffly. "I enjoyed it, didn't I?"
He couldn't respond. It made him feel sick. He hadn't wanted her to enjoy it and it made him a monster.
Liriel said nothing else and left him in the bed so she could bathe and dress. When she returned, it was hard to remember how he'd previously felt with how beautiful she looked. She wore gold silk and jewels and shone like the sun. He found himself a flower, yearning and leaning towards her radiance. She was all he needed, he told himself.
"Now that we've had our fun, Veshier, I'm afraid we must preform an unpleasant task."
That stole his adoration, though only briefly. The way she said it, the way her feeling felt through the bond, Veshier knew that it had to be something terrible. Far worse than even her words implied.
"I will do whatever you wish," he told her. He meant it.
She nodded, agreeing with him. Yes, he'd do whatever she said, no matter how terrible or wonderful. She was his master, Veshier thought, and he was her eager slave.
Liriel dabbed perfume oil on her wrists and neck. The marks he'd made were still there. He didn't know why, but it aroused him again. He hated it. Hated himself. He shouldn't have felt that way. He shouldn't have done it.
"You must dispatch Jael," she said, turning to face him, the look on her face a challenge. Daring him to balk or say no.
He wanted to. Veshier didn't want to even look at Liriel's undead guardian. The flesh barely clung to his bones. His sightless eyes, his mouth full of broken teeth. He'd never even asked or thought to ask how Jael had come to being cursed that way in the first place.
She watched him with narrowed eyes. "You judge me," she said, her tone carrying surprise. Indignation. "For what I did to Jael. And yes. I did it. Before I found salvation in the Mother, I practiced black magics. I was a witch, Veshier," she told him with pride.
Stalking towards him, silk swishing around her slim ankles, he grasped his chin and forced him to look at her. Veshier felt sick. "But the Mother was merciful. My people?" She shrugged lightly. "Not so much."
"It is why I alone survived when the Usurper went to war against the Elves. Because they'd already cast me out. In my fear and despair? I cried out to the Mother. And she gave me my wisdom, my power. And my guardian. She gave me the power over the dead. I needed protection as the last living woman of my kind. What else was I to do?"
He tried to shake his head, but her grip was firm. His tongue flicked out to wet his suddenly dry lips. "I would never question," he told her, fumbling his words.
She tsk'd, her fingers squeezing his chin painfully now. "I feel you doubting me. Hating me," she told him with venom. "But I've shown you mercy. I've healed your sight. Delivered you from the evil thing your Initiate did. Forgiven you for not killing her immediately."
Ah, but she was right, Veshier thought despondently. "Forgive me," he muttered.
"No," she said. "I won't. But you will serve. You will make it up to me. You will dispatch Jael."
He nodded, swallowing. "I will, High Priestess. Anything you command."
With a sneer, she released his chin, turning her back on him. "Good. That's how it should be. In service, you'll find your purpose, Veshier, In love, your salvation. Just know you'll only get these things from me. I am the path to salvation. Only me."
"I've been ungrateful," he confessed with some conviction. He had been, he thought. She'd done so much for him. Saved him.
"Indeed," she drawled, though he could tell this pleased her. The bond was warm with her pleasure. He was conquered and she liked that. Liked him at her heel like a dog bound in chains. He'd be her dog, he thought. Forever. She'd done more for him than he deserved.
Veshier got up from the bed and dropped to knees behind her. He wrapped his arms around her legs, pressing his face against her thighs. He didn't hold her too firmly which allowed her to turn and face him. Veshier pressed his face into her groin then.
"I should worship you," he told her sincerely.
"That's blasphemy, Veshier," she warned.
"So be it," he murmured, relishing in the feeling of her arousal through the bond.
She was silent for several beats, running her hand through his hair.
"You are my goddess. I will sell my soul to you." Anything, he thought, anything to crush his doubt and pain and fear. His disgust with himself. With everything.
Her fingers tightened in his hair and he groaned. "Yes," she said, agreeing, blaspheming with him. "Now do it. Get rid of Jael." She pushed him roughly away and walked out into her personal gardens where she'd chained her old guardian like he was a dog.
Veshier's clothing and sword lay against the wall by the door to her chambers where he'd discarded them days before. Clad only in a silk bedsheet he'd wound around his waist, he took up his blade, the one he'd previously sworn to defend Linarra's life with. He put her out of his mind, burned her away. Tried to forget the beautiful blue that was her energy.
He walked into the garden in a haze, looking for his dark goddess. He no longer wanted a soul if it always hurt like this. Veshier didn't want to suffer anymore. He didn't want to doubt. He looked to Liriel, beautiful in the moonlight as she looked down in disgust at her former guardian.
Liriel had claimed Jael was mindless, but now, in the soft gloaming, Veshier saw the way Jael looked up at Liriel. It was the same way he felt, that longing, wanting her to be the sun to burn it all away. It sunk his heart. He was merely trading places with Jael. Soon, he'd be just as lifeless, a husk filled only when Liriel's whim allowed.
"Do it, Veshier," she said in an excited whisper. "Then take me to bed again."
He needed no other incentive. Without remorse, he stood in the brutal sunshine of her adoration and sliced Jael's head from his shoulders.