The Feather-Strewn Bones: a villain romance: The Red Echoes Duet, #2

By Val Saintcrowe

Rhike Cyid Dhathron used Vinel Amin. He lied to her. He seduced her for his own purposes. Now, he has been subsumed by power and evil. He is the Falcon, a nightmarish thing of feathers and talons, more monster than man.

And yet, when Vinel is captured by Shaanti Jhaa and offered the chance to confront the Falcon and attempt to reach the man within, she takes it. The shaanti thinks that his old friend will remember Vinel, and that his feelings for her will be volatile enough to bring him back to himself.

Vinel knows that the shaanti can't be trusted, and she knows that the Falcon is dangerous.

Going to him doesn't make sense. She can't justify her actions to her friend and bodyguard Pruvana Deol.

Even so, all the same, she has to do it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Punk Rawk Books
• Release date: Jan 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224258277

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The Falcon used to be a man, once upon a time, but he hardly remembered that now.

He thought in images and colors. Sometimes he had trouble telling where the images came from. He seemed to be able to communicate mind-to-mind with the syenii. He was always surrounded by syenii, with their two sets of wings and their faces full of eyes. They cawed as they perched on the stones of the castle. They came in through the windows and sat on the ruined dining room table, picking clean the bones of the dead. They fluttered their wings as they sat on the arms of the vidul’s throne.

The castle was full of the bones of the dead, as was the path that led to the castle, which sat on a high hill overlooking a valley. The valley was full of Ravon’s men.

The Falcon remembered Ravon.

He remembered that Ravon was supposed to be dead. But somehow Ravon had survived. The Falcon remembered Ravon’s screams when he was enveloped in molten lava. How a person survived that, the Falcon didn’t know. Ravon had delved deep in the mysteries of the gods and magic. He had made arcane sacrifices on his altars. He had drunk hot blood of dead animals and cut symbols into his skin. Perhaps it was impossible to kill Ravon. Perhaps the Falcon had been foolish to think it was so easy.

But he couldn’t remember why he had tried to kill Ravon.

He didn’t even know where the dead bodies had come from in the castle. Had he done it himself or had the syenii done it? If the syenii had, had it been on his orders?

He could send himself into their minds, take control of their bodies, send them out against the men who tried to take the castle back from him, and he did. He held this bit of bone and rock and feather and blood, and he would not surrender it.

He wasn’t sure why of that either.

Ravon’s attacks didn’t seem to follow any pattern that he could discern, but he only had a sort of vague shape of the idea of what a pattern even was. He reacted. He did not plan.

Sometimes, the humans who were huddled together in the throne room tried to escape, and he stopped them from doing that as well, but for the most part, he left them alone. He didn’t know who they were or why it mattered, but they weren’t to leave.

That morning, he was perched on the highest tower of the castle, looking down at the army camped below. The tents were stained red in the morning light. He flexed his talons against the stone, holding himself in place as he fluffed his feathers.

This hadn’t always been the tallest tower in the castle. There had been a taller one, but it was only rubble now. The Falcon had pulled it down on itself, a product of his magic. He was fairly sure he had always been able to move things without touching them, but now he could move so much more. He could do it by thought, when he used to be limited by gesture. He was different now.

And yet…

He was still bound by the things he couldn’t remember. He didn’t know why, but he still held to his convictions. He must kill Ravon. He must… because…

There were flashes sometimes.

A woman sobbing as he watched through a crack. He seemed to be small, hiding away in a tiny space, and the woman was begging for her life, but the men cut her down anyway.

A little boy, laughing on the back of a horse, his eyes dancing in delight.

Another woman, this one without her clothes, her breasts quivering as she gasped. When he thought of her, he felt a swirl of confusing colors, as if the woman made every single one of his emotions surge within him. But he had no idea who she was.

The morning air was warm. It was summer. The Falcon perched on his castle, clinging to the pile of stones and rubble that he had claimed as his own, and he watched as the army prepared to attack again.

He threw his head back, cawing, spreading his wings. He sent out his mind, floating through the light of the sunrise, rousing the syenii that slept.

His flock of monstrous birds rose from their slumber.

The army came and the birds went screaming down to them. They clawed at the faces of the men. They pecked at their necks.

When the birds failed, he plucked the men from the path himself, using his magic to lift them high into the air and drop them, shrieking, to their deaths.

Only Ravon was immune to his magic. Only Ravon stayed standing as the Falcon tossed his army about like leaves on the wind. Ravon in his shaanti’s robes, his face a mass of burned scar tissue, so pink it hurt to look at, his eyes glittering inside his ruined eye sockets, his lips burned away to bare his teeth. Ravon held his ground and locked his gaze with the Falcon.

His army retreated, but Ravon would never give up.

The Falcon knew this as well as he knew that he wouldn’t either.

This would go on until one of them perished.

Nothing else mattered to the Falcon. Nothing except Ravon’s destruction.

CHAPTER TWO

Vidul Kresh Amin of Wollachen hesitated outside the bedchamber of his wife, the Vidula Vinel. There were two guards standing at attention at the door, both staring forward as they clutched their swords. There was no outward indication that they were paying any attention to him, but he knew that they were and that his hesitation would be spoken of to others. Before long, the entire court would be buzzing about it.

After all, he had hesitated at least once before at his wife’s bedchamber, two weeks ago. He hadn’t even entered. He’d simply left.

The court had a heyday with that.

He knew he needed to enter the room. That was what Vinel needed of him. Her position here was precarious, because she had been kidnapped six months ago. In any situation, that would be problematic, as there was always concern about the virtue of the vidula and the effect that might have on the line of succession.

In this case, that concern had even been valid, because Vinel had been intimate with Rhike Cyid Dhathron, the man who had kidnapped her.

Kresh did not understand all the details. He certainly didn’t discuss it with Vinel, but Vinel had opened up to her best friend and bodyguard, the warrior maiden Pruvana Deol. Pru had reported some of it to Kresh, and the essence of the story was that Vinel had initially seduced the monk in order to get away from him, and then things had become complicated for her.

He understood, actually. He didn’t fault her for being drawn to the man, especially if the experience had been pleasurable, and he knew that attraction could be a very convoluted sort of path to navigate.

So, he didn’t hesitate at the door to her bedchamber because of misplaced jealousy or because his fragile male ego couldn’t handle the idea his wife had bedded another man. None of it mattered now. It was the past. The rhike had been transformed into some kind of half-bird/half-man who now held half the court of Nashiir hostage in a ruined castle in the other country’s capital. The rhike had always been a monster, but now he appeared like one as well.

Kresh knew that Vinel wasn’t pining away for that thing. He didn’t think it had been anything between her and the rhike besides some kind of mutual physical attraction, anyway. Lust and an aligned purpose for what Vinel thought was the greater good. She hadn’t known what the rhike planned. The rhike had used her in order to become the beast that he was. Dhathron might have killed the Vidul of Nashiir, who had been a bad ruler, but the rhike, as it stood, was a hundred times worse.

Vinel felt guilty for assisting Dhathron, but it wasn’t her fault.

None of it was.

Kresh didn’t blame her.

That didn’t mean he wanted her, however.

But what did that matter? When a vidul bedded a vidula, it was for the sake of duty, not passion. He could not continue to put this off.

He took a deep breath and he opened the door, stepping past the guards and shutting himself inside.

Vinel was at her writing desk, pen in hand. She looked up. Oh, you did come after all.

He swallowed. Yes.

She was wearing only a loose-fitting nightdress, and her hair was down. He’d sent word that he would be coming to her that night, but this wasn’t the first time he’d done so. Every other time, he’d backed out. He’d never made it into her room before. She looked pretty, he supposed. No, she did. She was an attractive woman. It was only that he wasn’t attracted to her.

He didn’t know why that was, exactly. There were probably a lot of reasons. He knew it couldn’t be only that she’d bedded the rhike, because he was plenty attracted to Pru, who had been with numerous men before Kresh.

Maybe there was only one reason, and maybe that reason was Pru herself.

He grimaced.

Best not to think about Pru.

Vinel set her pen in its stand and recapped her inkwell. She stood up, smoothing out her nightdress.

If you’d rather I go, if this isn’t a convenient time for you, that’s all right, he said, turning to look at the door.

I didn’t say that, she said. I suppose it’s better for me if we go ahead and, um, do this.

Yes, he said. It would be better for her, because it would be better if she was with child. That would secure her position and help to quell the rumors about her. There had been concern, when she first arrived, that she might be carrying the rhike’s child, and Kresh had been prepared to raise the child as his own, even as his heir. But she wasn’t pregnant. Now, enough time had passed that no one would question the paternity of any child she did bear.

She took a deep breath, looking around. The bed? She gestured.

He licked his lips.

She turned back to look at him. Maybe we should kiss first.

All right, he said, squaring his shoulders. His stomach turned over in a sour way. Surely there must be some way to get out of this.

She approached him, stopping when she was about a foot away. She looked him over.

He swallowed.

They met each other’s gaze for a moment, and then they both looked away, and it was quiet. The silence went on and on, until it seemed to have come alive, as if it were a third entity in the room with them.

She cleared her throat. Kissing isn’t, uh, strictly necessary, I guess.

His jaw twitched. That would be… don’t you think it would be odd if we didn’t?

It’s already odd.

That was true.

She shrugged. All right, well, let’s… She gathered up handfuls of her nightdress and pulled it up over her head. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

His eyes widened, taking her in. And then he looked away. He stared at his feet.

Are you going to come here? Her voice came from further away. She must be lying on the bed. He wasn’t going to look up and find out for himself.

Do you… He choked. He was talking to the floor, not to her. Do you really want me to do this?

It’s got to be done, doesn’t it?

That wasn’t an answer.

It was quiet again.

Kresh? she whispered. Are you going to look at me?

I don’t… think so, he said.

Should I extinguish the light, then?

I don’t think I can do this, he said. He walked over to where her nightdress was crumpled on the floor. He bent down and fished up the fabric and threw it onto the bed.

Oh, she said softly.

It’s not you, he said, wanting to reassure her.

Right, obviously, it’s got nothing to do with me, she said, darkly amused.

He ran a hand through his hair. How did he even explain this to her?

It’s all right. I’m covered again, she said. You can look at me.

He did. You’re very… lovely. He was even aroused, if it came to that. He was a man, and she had been naked, and he wasn’t made of stone.

I don’t need that from you. She picked something off the fabric of her nightdress. I know that it’s not about what I look like. I’m tainted, though. No man wants something used.

It’s not… I don’t see you that way, and that’s reductive. He shook his head. If it comes to that, I’m a bit used myself.

She smiled, but it was a sad smile. It’s different for men.

Only because of children, and you’re not… you didn’t… so, it’s fine. I don’t care about that. He shifted on his feet. It’s too soon for you, I think. After what you’ve been through, you probably need more time to prepare.

"Oh, so it is about me? You’re making this decision for my benefit?"

He dragged a hand over his face.

She patted the bed next to her. Sit down?

He hesitated, but then he did sit. I don’t know how to explain this. I don’t know what to tell you. He didn’t want her to know about Pru, who was her best friend. Nothing should have ever happened with Pru, anyway. The fact that things had happened was partly the fault of their having been attacked by vaxa in the Kala Forest. The blame could not be laid entirely at the feet of nefarious magical creatures, however. Even before stepping foot in that forest, he and Pru had gone too far with each other.

I don’t know what I should and shouldn’t say about what passed between myself and the rhike, she said, but you should understand that he didn’t force me, and that I’m not damaged by it. I’m all right.

I know that, he said. But you consented without understanding the larger picture. He didn’t give you all the information about him that you needed to determine whether or not you wished to be with him. So, you were violated.

Her lips parted.

Anyway, I suppose I shouldn’t hide behind that. I should explain to you—

I was not violated. She was firm.

He raised his eyebrows. Well, he used you—

He did, she said. And I knew something was off. I could feel that there was something wrong about it, and I wanted him anyway. Her face fell. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to advertise my wanton behavior to you. I’m sure it hardly makes me more desirable to you.

He shook his head. Listen, it doesn’t matter. The truth is that I don’t feel anything when I think about you with him. I could picture you on your knees sucking his cock, and it’s… nothing.

Her eyes widened. People do that?

He cleared his throat. Uh… you see? You are more innocent than you give yourself credit for. You are still very, very… I’m only trying to explain that I don’t have the sort of feelings toward you that a husband should have towards a wife. Which is why I can’t seem to do this.

She furrowed her brow. This marriage was never about our feelings, sir. And I can only think that it’s a boon that you don’t feel angry about the fact that I was unfaithful to you.

You weren’t really unfaithful, though, were you? I mean, we were barely married, and I don’t… you’re not… He blinked. That’s the trouble, you see? I don’t think of you as mine. I don’t think of you as… touching you, being with you, something about it… I simply can’t.

If you want us to feel connected, wouldn’t being intimate help that?

He didn’t answer, because the answer was yes, and that was why he didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to feel connected to her. He didn’t want to feel connected to anyone who wasn’t Pru. He didn’t want to look at Pru with the knowledge that he’d been with another woman. He wanted Pru to belong to him and he wanted to belong to Pru. That was what he wanted.

You don’t want to feel intimate with me, do you? she murmured.

Of course I do, he said.

No, she said. You don’t. And I can understand that. Believe me, it makes sense. Any man would feel similarly. What I can’t understand is why you keep insisting it’s not my fault. I can bear the blame for this. If you see me as soiled, even if you don’t wish to, it would be understandable. You are only human, after all, and you would want your wife—

I don’t see you that way at all, he said firmly.

All right, she said quietly, studying her fingernails.

I should go, he said.

Stay, she said.

He blinked.

If you stay for a bit longer, then perhaps people in court will think that we have finally consummated the marriage, and that will make things easier.

Of course, he said.

And then it grew quiet again, and the silence was just as vast and awkward as the last one had been.

She was the one to break it. Maybe if you… if you and she would simply…

What are you talking about? He was defensive.

She sucked in a breath. You are a vidul, and viduls have mistresses. I know this. I’ve never thought anything otherwise, so—

Stop. He got up from the bed. His voice was strangled.

I saw her face when I got the message from you that you’d be visiting my bedchamber tonight, said Vinel. I saw how she went rigid. I’ve seen her reaction on the other occasions you’ve indicated you would come. She tries to hide it, but I know her. The two of you traveled together to find me, all over the country of Nashiir. You must have spent a number of nights together in the cold, with nothing but each other to—

Nothing happened.

Is it only on her side, then? she whispered. Because if so, you must forget that I ever said a word about it to you. We will never speak of it again, and—

No, we won’t speak of this, he said, and his voice was shaking. Because there’s nothing to speak of. He fled the room, bursting out of the door and letting it slam shut behind him. He ran.

* * *

Pruvana Deol was drunk. She had downed glass after glass of potent liquor, one after the other. The effect of the drink lagged, and she’d had too much before she realized that she should have stopped three drinks ago.

She was in a tavern a few blocks away from the castle, and suddenly, everything was very loud and very distorted. Things were starting to spin. She wanted to lay her head down on the table here, where she was drinking, and go to sleep.

But she was not such a fool as to do so. Incapacitated, in a strange place, alone, she would be putting herself in danger. She forced herself to get up and leave the tavern.

Then, it took all of her concentration to walk upright, back in the direction of the castle. She knew that she shouldn’t stumble or limp as she walked. This, too, would mark her as an easy mark for men that might want to do her harm. Most men wouldn’t take advantage of a drunk woman, but there were soldiers about, and she knew that violence changed men. Once they’d severed another man’s head from his body, they pushed past the moral bounds that had kept them in check. They did all manner of things that they might not have done otherwise. She, too, had been changed by the violence she had done to others.

So, she needed to make sure that she made it safely back to the castle. But once there, she didn’t know where she would go. Her bedchamber was right next to Vinel’s, and she couldn’t go there, because of what was happening with Kresh and Vinel. She couldn’t bear being on the other side of the wall from that.

She made it to the gates, and the guards there let her inside. She walked through the courtyard and entered the main entrance of the castle. Then she simply sat down on the floor, leaning her head against the wall. She shut her eyes.

Moments later, someone was calling her name urgently. Pru. Pru, wake up.

She blinked, and Kresh’s face swam in front of her. She laughed. What are you doing here? Were you that quick?

He yanked her to her feet. You’re drunk. You smell like a distillery.

She put both hands in the middle of his firm chest and shoved him, but this only made her lose her balance, and if he hadn’t been holding her upright, she would have gone sprawling.

He tugged on her arm and pulled her through a hallway and then inside a small room. It was dark except for a single lamp that sat on a table in the center of the room. It was one of the rooms that the Asahi would use for meditation. During meditation, the followers of the religion didn’t want there to be distractions.

Kresh shut the door, closing them in together. He let go of her.

She collapsed against the door, shutting her eyes. How was it? Did you enjoy yourself? Did you make her come?

Stop, he said. Nothing happened. I couldn’t do it.

Her eyes snapped open. "What? You have to do it, Kresh. You can’t keep leaving her in this limbo where you’re married but not married. Until you consummate—"

You need to watch yourself, he said. She said something to me as I was leaving, about the way you reacted to the news that I was coming to bed her. I thought we agreed—

You could have warned me that was happening, she rasped. It caught me out of nowhere, and… She sucked in breath through her nose. To her horror, her throat was tight and tears were forming in her eyes.

I don’t think it’s wise to be so drunk you’re collapsing in the middle of the castle, he said. You don’t know the kinds of things that can happen to a woman—

I do know, and I can take care of myself.

You can’t stand, let alone draw a sword. How much did you drink?

One of the tears escaped, tracing a wet trail down her cheek. Angrily, she dashed it away.

He sank his hands into his hair. I thought… we talked about it, and you said you were going to find someone to… to be with.

I didn’t say that, she said. It was mentioned. It wasn’t a plan.

He sighed.

She sighed. Another tear escaped.

He reached out and brushed it away with his thumb. For the sake of all noble transcendence, don’t cry, Pru, he whispered.

I don’t mean to. She glared at him. It’s only because I’m drunk.

He was close. "If I had