Dark Warrior (Warrior 2)
“I will be fine,” she assured Magnus and slipped her arm out of his.
“As you say,” Magnus said. “I will tell my wife that you will be with her shortly so that you may begin work on your wedding dress.”
Mary nodded. “I will not keep her waiting.” She appreciated Magnus graciously limiting her time with Decimus.
Decimus remained silent until Magnus disappeared in the distance.
“He cannot protect you for long.”
Mary smiled. “I will have you, my husband, to protect me.”
Decimus circled her like a prey intimidating its captor. “You will be well protected. I will know your every move. I will decide your every move. You will obey without question.”
Mary wanted to choke on her own words, but she forced them from her lips. “I will serve to be a good wife.”
“You will be a good wife. I will tolerate nothing less from you.”
“You have made yourself clear. I understand perfectly.” Her tongue was slightly sharper than she intended, but his arrogant, self-righteous manner irritated her.
He grabbed her arm, his fingers pinching her skin. “Your mouth is much too quick and you much too foolish.”
She yanked her arm from his grasp and stepped away from him. “I have yet to exchange vows with you, so it is you who speaks out of turn.”
His nostrils flared, a warning she had learned quickly to recognize as anger, but at the moment she did not care how angry he was. She would surrender soon enough to him.
“You dare to be insolent to me?”
She silently reminded herself that she would gain nothing if she did not retain her composure, but it was difficult. He commanded in his every word. She had trouble tolerating his constant edicts—how she would tolerate it when they wed, she did not know. The sobering thought made her rethink her actions. If she were not careful she would worsen her situation.
She forced herself to apologize. “Forgive me, I was inconsiderate.”
“You spoke out of turn.”
He could not even accept an apology. How she wished she could tell him how very rude and obnoxious she thought he was. Instead she said, “I am learning.”
“You have much to learn.”
If she did not direct the discussion elsewhere, she would soon find herself lashing out at him once again.
“May I inquire what it is you wish to discuss with me?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and took a firm stance in front of her. “I have been informed that you love to sing.”
Who could have told him that? Magnus was the only one aware of her penchant for singing.
“I raise my voice in song on occasion.”
“Let me hear you.”
She looked at him oddly.
“I wish to hear you sing. Now.”
She had always sung when she was happy and at peace with herself. Troubling times found her voice dormant, having no desire to raise it in song. And she certainly had no desire to raise it now for a man who would have no appreciation for the beauty of song.
She raised her hand to her throat. “My throat remains tender from your man’s attempt to strangle me.”
“You would not have incurred his wrath if you would have surrendered.”
She shrugged. “As I said, my throat remains tender.”
“Try anyway.”
He was adamant but then so was she.
“I am sorry to disappointment you, but I cannot sing now.”
“Did you sing for the Dark One?”
His question startled her. It was his tone more than the question itself. Or was she wrong to think she heard jealousy in his voice?
She rubbed her throat. “I raised my voice in song for no one.”
He stared at her until she grew uncomfortable.
“I do not think you tell me the truth, especially about the Dark One.”
Was he fishing for information about Michael? Did he hope she would unwittingly supply him with information? Was he using her to get to Michael?
“I have told you what I know of the Dark One.”
“It seems that no one knows a thing about this mysterious shadow. He appears out of nowhere and vanishes without a trace. He must certainly practice the dark arts to be able to perform such magic.”
“I would not know.”
“You did not see him work any magic?”
He was searching for information to use against Michael if he ever caught him, and who better to get it from than the woman who would be his wife.
“I saw nothing out of the ordinary.”
“You think him a mere man with no extraordinary powers?”
Michael was no mere man to her. He was strong, brave, and unselfish, surrendering his own life so that tortured and condemned souls could know freedom.
“You hesitate,” Decimus said, gleefully, as if he had learned something from her.
“Of course I hesitate. How do I explain a man I know nothing of? We barely spoke since I had no voice. I simply followed him. As for extraordinary powers? I saw nothing that would make me believe he practices magic.”