by K. C. Julius
“Not this time, my lady. This tempest will raze even these walls.”
When the voices quieted, Maura and Halla hurried back to Maura’s room, where Halla paced to the windows and back, like a caged animal.
“What do you make of that?” she said.
Maura felt ill. “I can’t believe Celaidra is in league with Lazdac—and I trusted her. How could she? She’s an elven princess!”
“More concerning is that she’s a sorceress, which will serve to strengthen Lazdac’s side.”
Maura dropped weakly into a chair as she was struck by an unpleasant realization.
“Maura? What is it?”
Maura looked up at her friend. “I fear Celaidra may have something to do with why King Elvinor hadn’t returned from his dealings with the faeries.”
“You don’t think…”
“I don’t know what to think. But if she does mean to do away with any who might oppose her, why did she make the effort to bring me here? She could have just killed me at any time on the journey.”
“Maybe she thinks she can convince you to join them—or that you might prove useful to Lazdac,” Halla said bitterly. “That’s what he excels at, the bastard—using others to his own ends.”
They both started as a soft rap sounded on the door, and Llwella entered with a tray of food and drink. She didn’t seem surprised to see Halla. “Your aunt is feeling unwell,” the veiled woman said brusquely. “She has retired for the night.”
After the maid left, Halla raised an eyebrow at Maura. “Who is this Llwella, truly? From the way she spoke to your aunt… well, I’ve never heard a maid address a lady like that. And why does she wear a veil? Have you ever seen her face?”
Maura shook her head. “It’s rumored she met with an accident that left her deformed. But I wonder… I wore one myself in Olquaria, as a disguise.”
“Olquaria? What in Blearc’s name were you doing there?”
“That’s the long story I mentioned. The short version is that Ilyria insisted I would be safe from her brothers there. I didn’t want to go, but I’m so glad I did, because…” Maura felt a blush rise to her cheeks.
“Well, well! I suspect I’ll want to hear the long version of your adventures,” Halla said. She reached for the flask of wine, then gave Maura a measuring look. “Did someone there capture your heart?”
Maura couldn’t help but smile. “You first. What happened after I left Mithralyn? I’ve seen Whit and Master Morgan only briefly since then, and neither long enough to learn anything about anyone… except Leif.” Her throat closed for a breath. “You’ve heard?”
Halla handed her a goblet with a somber nod. “Whit told me Leif and Rhiandra went to Belestar and never returned. Emlyn thinks he may have met the rebelling drakes. If he did…” She trailed off and raised her glass. “To Leif.”
They drank in solemn silence, then Halla picked up the thread of her story. “After you and Leif went to Drinnkastel, I was kidnapped by slavers and sold in Albrenia. I lived in a bordello until I escaped and joined a company of å Livåri.”
“Wait! Slavers? A bordello? How did this all come to pass?”
Halla waved her hand. “Let’s just say it was a twist of fate. In a way, I’m glad it all happened as it did, because I became… close with one of the å Livåri rebels. In fact, he knew your brother.”
“Dal? Oh, I would very much like to meet this man.”
Halla looked into her goblet, her hand tightening on its stem. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. He’s… made the Leap. As to how he knew your brother, we trained together with a mercenary from Branley Tor, whom he’d met the night Dal was murdered. It was your fellow landsman who found Dal in the square.”
Maura sat up. “What? Why, that was Borne!”
“Yes—Borne Braxton. You know of him?”
“I met him when I lived in Dorf, and have since come to know him quite well. He’s the man I met in Olquaria.”
Halla’s eyes lit up, then she threw back her head and laughed. “You’re the girl he left behind! Now that is a twist of fate!”
“And you say you trained with Borne in Gral? I should like to hear about that.” Recalling Halla’s grip on her goblet, Maura added, “But first, if you don’t mind talking about him, I’d like to hear about your å Livåri.”
Halla’s tale of meeting Nicu in a prison tower, and all that followed, was almost too fantastic to believe, but if anyone was to survive such an adventure, it would be Halla. When she spoke of how her lover had met his death, both women shed tears, and then again when she told Maura about their daughter, whom her family believed was Whit’s.
“If it hadn’t been for Whit,” Halla confessed, “I’d likely be locked up in some temple by now, forced to dedicate myself to the goddesses, and Alegre would be farmed out to some peasant family.”
“So—you’ve mended your fences with your cousin?”
Halla lean back against the cushions. “I guess I have. He’s proven to be more loyal than my own brothers. I never really thought about it until now, but you and I are also related—through your father, Prince Storn.”
“I did think about that,” Maura confessed, “but I was too intimidated by you to bring it up. And I admit at the time, I was still ashamed of my mother’s origins.” She held up her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve come to terms with who I am, and I have no regrets about it.”
Halla touched her goblet to Maura’s. “It seems now we have even more in common.” She drained the last of her wine. “Now. Let’s put our two dragonfast heads together and figure out how to get out of this damned castle.”
Chapter 48
Halla
Halla itched to demand their release from Asmara’s apartments outright, but Maura insisted this would be denied, and would only make their keepers more watchful. So instead they waited as patiently as they could for an opportunity to attempt an escape from their gentle confinement. The wait was made all the more torturous by the arrival of their dragons, whose roars circled the turrets. There was no doubt in either of their minds that the calls of distress were those of Emlyn and Ilyria. But since all the casements, like the outer door of Asmara’s apartment, were sealed shut, there was no way for Halla and Maura to signal to them.
Princess Asmara spent the interminable days almost continually in their company, and her over-bright eyes and restless hands, flitting from her glass to her hair and back again, intimated her own disquiet. Llwella was often about as well, and each evening, after they’d all retired, the maid would return to the main chamber, where she sat alone through the night, as if she suspected their plans.
On what was supposed to be Halla’s final night as a hostage of King Roth, she woke in the wee hours and stealthily opened their bedroom door. A single candle on the table by the door cast flickering shadows on the wall. Creeping deeper into the room, she spied Llwella prone on the long divan by the hearth. From the slight rise and fall of her breast, she appeared to be deep in dreams. Dangling from a chain at her waist was an iron key.
Halla slipped back to Maura’s bedside and gently shook her friend’s arm. “Wake up,” she whispered, dragging her sleeping gown over her head, then pulling on her tunic. “We’re leaving.”
Maura silently followed suit, and tiptoed after her into the main room of the apartments. But she stopped dead at the sight of Llwella, and her eyes widened when Halla pointed to the key.
Laying a finger over her lips, Halla lowered herself onto her hands and knees and began to crawl toward the sleeping woman. When she was within an arm’s length of the hanging key, she paused and looked back. If Maura was still there, she’d melted into the shadows.
Just as well, Halla thought. If I get caught trying to pilfer the key, at least I’ll be the only one to shoulder the blame.
She reached out and, ever so gently, cradled the key in her hand. She inched c
loser to examine how it was attached to the chain, but as she peered down at it, Llwella gave a soft groan.
Halla dropped to the floor and held her breath until she could hear the maid’s soft exhalations once more. Cautiously, she lifted her head, then pushed herself up and rocked back onto her heels.
Llwella had rolled to her side and now faced Halla directly. If the woman were to awaken, they would be staring right into one another’s eyes. To make matters worse, the key now lay buried under her robes.
Despite her determination, Halla knew it was no use attempting to retrieve it. Fraught with frustration, she edged away from the divan.
It was only when she got to her feet that she saw Maura slipping out of Princess Asmara’s bedchamber, the glint of something metallic in her hand. She emerged from the gloom, hurried past Halla to the outer door, and deftly inserted the key in the lock. Halla’s pulse quickened at the soft click, and in the space of a moment she had snatched up the candlestick and they were both through the door and striding quickly down the corridor.
Maura grasped Halla’s arm before they reached its end. Placing her fingers on the wall, she slid open a cleverly disguised panel, just tall enough to duck through. Halla followed her into a narrow passageway that led to a storeroom crammed with a jumble of vases, chalices, and other adornments.
Thus far their escape had gone better than Halla could have hoped for—but as they traversed the chaotic assortment of stored goods, Halla’s elbow caught a row of candelabras and sent them crashing to the floor. The two women’s eyes locked in terror before Halla blew out the candle, plunging them into darkness, and they waited for the pounding of footsteps bringing someone to investigate the thunderous noise.
Only dense silence resounded in their ears.
Halla could hear her friend edging away from her, then pale light seeped into the room. Maura was silhouetted in a doorway that opened onto a torchlit hallway beyond. She motioned Halla to follow her, and they darted along the hall and down a staircase to a large, formal garden.
“Hurry,” Maura whispered, leading the way between the manicured beds to the courtyard beyond. She pointed to a dark tower looming across the yard. “We need to get to that parapet. There’s a staircase leading up to it, and then across the allure is another going down to the tilting grounds. We’ll have to wait until the watch passes, then we make our move.”
Halla was too intent on gaining her freedom to question the plan. She had to report back to Fynn what they’d learned about Celaidra, Lazdac, and the Albrenians’ imminent approach. After that, she intended to go with Emlyn and seek Baldo, who was somewhere along the Great Northern Road, hopefully with a great å Livåri army comprising the clans heading south for the winter. He and his men would no doubt share her pleasure in learning of Palan’s arrival on the Isle with an Albrenian force. Together, she and the å Livåri would see the invaders never came within striking distance of the Havard Gate.
Maura scanned the sky. “Do you see any sign of our dragons?”
“Not yet.”
They waited behind the stone balustrade of the staircase for nearly an hour before the watch made its rounds, and still no dragons had soared overhead. A half dozen guards passed by close enough for Halla to smell the wine on their breath, and when they had moved on, Maura surprised Halla by giving her a tight hug.
“I didn’t have a cousin growing up, and you feel even closer than that—more like a sister—so let’s both try to stay alive to enjoy the experience.”
Halla felt a lump well up in her throat. “Agreed. I’ll go first, just in case there’s a sentry posted out of sight. See you on the other side.”
She dashed across the courtyard toward the parapet, and no dreaded shout rang out. She bounded up the steps and reached the allure without incident, and although she couldn’t see Maura hidden in the shadows, she thought she heard footsteps behind her. Sprinting along the wall, she took the narrow stairs down to the tilting grounds.
Her heart was light. They only needed fortune to continue to smile on them for a little while longer.
As she ducked into a small alcove, a male voice called out from above.
“Halt!”
The smile died on Halla’s lips. But no cadre of guards came to challenge her. She inched forward until she could look up at the allure, where a circle of men had formed on the castle wall. One of them stepped back, and it was then that Halla spied Maura in their midst.
Halla and Maura had agreed beforehand that if one of them was stopped, the other would go on alone. But this girl had just called her sister. Halla could not leave her behind.
The men’s laughter broke the stillness, then one of them made a crude remark about Maura and the Nelvor king.
“I’ve heard tell you’re free with your favors. Do you have some to bestow on us, m’lady?”
“Aye,” Maura replied. “I have—a song.”
“Do you hear, lads?” chortled one of them. “She thinks to give us a song.”
“We might as well have it,” said another, “before we take a bit more.”
Halla edged toward the stairs. She had no idea what her plan was—there were too many of them for her to take them all on, even if she’d had a weapon—but she was determined to try. She was just starting up the steps when the unearthly beauty of Maura’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Each bell-like note floated down to her like a fallen petal from a rare bloom. How long she was held entranced, Halla had no idea, and it wasn’t until Maura seized her hand that she came back to herself.
“Run!” Maura hissed. “There’s no telling how long that will hold them.”
It wasn’t long enough. Before they’d crossed the tilting grounds, Halla cast a look over her shoulder, and saw the men bolting down the stairs after them.
“Maura—”
Her friend’s eyes were lifted to the dark shapes moving toward them across the heavens. “Look! They must have heard me too!”
The men were now charging across the field toward them.
“Are you prepared to take us all on?” Halla called to their pursuers. She raised her arm and pointed to the sky.
The leading guard looked up, then pivoted mid-stride, colliding with the man behind him. A scuffle ensued as the rest of them clawed at one another in their haste to find the swiftest path of retreat. The dragons swooped down to the yard, and the men scrambled back up the stairs, fearful cries trailing after them.
As the dragons came to earth, their massive bodies filled the grounds. “Quickly now!” Ilyria urged.
Maura had already scrambled onto the goldwing’s back as Halla leapt forward to climb astride Emlyn, and within seconds they were shooting upward into the dark sky.
* * *
When they returned to the Konigur camp at the break of dawn, they received a hearty, if astounded, welcome from the men guarding it. Despite the early hour, cheers rang out from somewhere close by. Halla and Maura followed the sound to the training ground, where a large crowd was gathered to watch a tall, golden-haired man ably wield his sword against three opponents.
Halla grinned at Maura, whose face was suddenly as bright as the morning. They waited until the swordsman had disarmed the last of his adversaries, then Halla made her way across the field and clapped him on his broad shoulder.
“Borne Braxton, what in the name of the gods are you doing here?” she demanded.
Borne’s blue eyes lit up. “Halla! I thought you were…” His voice trailed away as Magnus trotted past her, his tail wagging in greeting. Suddenly, a different glow illuminated Borne’s eyes.
Maura patted the dog’s great head, but her gaze was fixed on his master.
“Well, go on then,” Halla said, giving Borne a little push. “I want to see this.”
A dimple appeared in Borne’s cheek as he strode past her and caught Maura up in his arms, lifting her from the ground and
spinning her around. The good-natured hoots from the men appeared to fall on deaf ears, for in their embrace, Borne and Maura looked as though they were conscious of no other people in the world.
“Is there anything at which Sir Borne doesn’t excel?” said a familiar voice close to Halla’s ear.
She turned to Whit with a grin. “Do I detect a note of envy, Cardenstowe?”
He waved his hand airily. “Not in the least. But the fellow’s nearly as revered as our young prince, and now he’s won one of the fairest ladies in the land as well. You two made it back here just in time. Braxton was preparing to storm the castle singlehandedly otherwise.”
Maura slipped from Borne’s arms and came to bestow an embrace on Whit. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again,” she cried happily, “but then I suppose you, of all people, were more than a match for Roth Nelvor.”
Whit blushed, and it was clear he was equally pleased to see her. His smile faded though when she asked, “Is Master Morgan here, too?”
“No. And as usual, he left us without explanation.” Whit lifted his chin toward one of the tents, outside of which sat a group of men. “Fynn will want to speak with you and Halla about what’s going on behind the city walls. You might as well come too, Braxton.”
He is a bit jealous of Borne, Halla thought.
“Any news from Baldo?” she asked.
Whit shook his head. “Not yet. We’re hoping he’ll arrive any day now with a substantial å Livåri force in tow.”
They found Fynn seated at a table with Wren, Sir Glinter, and, as ever, Grinner. Watching him confer with the lords and the å Livåri, it appeared to Halla that the reluctant lad she’d met at Cardenstowe had, over the past weeks, come to terms with the role he’d agreed to assume—and was growing into it admirably.
The young Konigur rose to his feet. “Lady Halla! You’re unharmed?” He took hold of her hands, then smiled when he was satisfied that she was all in one piece. “Did Lord Roth send you back?”
“He did not, my lord. Nor did he intend to.” Halla turned to include Maura. “We escaped on our dragons.”
