Prince of Spies - By Bianca D'Arc Page 0,2

now would only cause more problems. First, the skirmishes on the borders had been repelled and an uneasy peace existed, though both sides were poised for an explosion that could come at any time. Second, there was no clear succession in Skithdron. They could remove Lucan only to have someone even worse take the helm.

No, Lucan had to fall in battle, do himself in, or be taken down by his own people. Draconia couldn’t be seen to have any part in his demise unless it was by fair means. So that left Nico’s hands tied—both literally and figuratively. He had to take whatever Lucan dished out here this evening and learn what he could. Only then would Nico make his escape, and he’d take the poor creature with the sad eyes with him.

It went on for hours. Lucan asked questions that were increasingly erratic and Nico refused to answer a single one. Each refusal earned him a blow of some kind and as the night wore on, Lucan produced vials of skith venom to add to the torture. Through it all, the skinny girl watched silently, her expression only showing sympathy when Lucan’s back was turned. Nico tried not to look at her, but found himself stealing glances when Lucan couldn’t see, using her luminous face to keep him grounded in the here and now as pain threatened to overwhelm him.

Nico learned a great deal about Lucan in those hours and made some enlightening self-discoveries as well. He learned how much pain he could withstand and just what it might take to break him. Fortunately, it never came to that point. The massive reserves of dragon strength and magic in his soul saw him through the worst of it.

Finally Lucan halted the torture, wiping Nico’s blood from his hands onto a clean white towel as Nico dropped to the floor, fading fast. Dimly, he heard Lucan’s final words as he swept from the room.

“Heal him, little bitch.” Lucan threw the soiled towel at the girl. “And clean up this mess. I can’t sleep here with his blood stinking up the place. I’ll be back for more in the morning.”

The last thing Nico thought as his vision dimmed was that if this was any indication of what the poor waif had been through at Lucan’s hands, Nico didn’t know how she had survived.

She said nothing as Lucan stalked from the room, though she was grateful for the reprieve. Having him take his perversions to some other chamber for the night was like a gift. Since Lucan’s change, she’d been made to witness all kinds of disgusting acts that were inhuman as well as deadly. Only her healing powers had saved some of Lucan’s victims, and some had begged for death. Lucan sometimes obliged, when the whim took him.

She knew he wasn’t stable. Any little thing could send him into a rage. When that happened, she often feared for her own life, even though he’d been cautioned by the North Witch not to kill her.

That evil woman was to blame for her current circumstances. The North Witch, Loralie, had told Lucan to keep her close, exposing her healing gift to him. Loralie had changed Lucan into the half-human creature he was now. It was Loralie, too, who cautioned him not to kill the young healer and warned Lucan how rare the healing gift was. She foresaw another healer would not be found again within the borders of Skithdron. Loralie was the reason she was subjected to Lucan’s perversions, tortured when the mood struck him and kept chained to his bed.

But oddly, Loralie was also to thank for Lucan leaving her sexually unmolested. The North Witch had told the mad king that the healing magic would be forever lost should anyone breach her maidenhead. The old magic, Loralie claimed, would depart as soon as she was no longer virgin. For that reason alone, Lucan hadn’t raped her. He’d tortured her, played with her flesh, hurt her in ways that didn’t bear thinking about, but he hadn’t taken her virginity. For that small boon, she supposed she should thank the witch, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

The witch was back in the north now with her master, King Salomar. She’d done the sickening work of merging Lucan with the skiths and departed as quickly as possible. The girl was left to heal the recurring injuries of a body never meant to hold two such diametrically opposed essences in one space. She