“That’s easy enough for you, but you don’t know the price I’d pay!” My voice broke and I turned away, scrabbling at the ties of his cloak. “Here. Take your cloak and go. You promised to abide by my plan.”
“What price?” Rayfe’s voice came soft in my ear as he laid gentle hands on my shoulders. “Tell me.”
“Small in the grand scheme,” I tossed over my shoulder, moving out from under those warm and possessive hands. “Something that’s important only to me.”
“Yes?”
“Meaning I don’t expect it to matter to you.” I dropped his cloak on the floor, since he wouldn’t take it, and picked up the wooden box, the wrapping, and my dagger. “You should have cleaned this blade. It might be ruined.”
“You might have need of my blood yet.”
“What do you think I’ll do with it?”
“You don’t need to do anything—just keep it. If you feel . . . strange, it will help you. Don’t clean it until we’re together.”
Together.
“And what happens then?” I asked quietly.
“Do you need another demonstration?” He sounded amused again. And hungry. Heat flooded me at his words, despite it all.
“I think I understand the ravishing part.” I kept my tone dry. “What about after that?”
“What price, Andromeda?”
I didn’t answer. My throat closed on the words.
Rayfe stepped over his cloak. Slid one arm around my waist and lifted my chin with a gloved finger. He kissed me, tenderly, then seemed to search my eyes. I wondered if he could see any more of my expression than I could of his. An odd courtship, where we forever fumbled around in the dark, not really knowing each other at all.
“Though it may not seem like it to you”—he cupped my cheek—“I regret that it’s had to be this way with us. If there is a pain I can spare you, I will. Tell me what he holds over you.”
“Will you let me go?”
“No.” His voice hardened. “I cannot do that. Let me do something I can.”
“You can’t.” Oddly, the way he held me felt comforting. The arms of the enemy. “It’s only my horse. He’ll kill my horse if he thinks I went to you willingly.”
“Ah.”
“See? Not important. Not when people are dying.”
“The horse you rode the day we met—I remember. She has gorgeous lines.”
I nodded and pulled away yet again. “On that note, I must go back.”
“I’ll escort you.”
“No, no, no! I can’t be seen with you.”
“Oh, Andromeda,” he chuckled, sweeping his cloak off the floor. “No one will see me. And this way, you can guide me to the tunnel entrance, so I’ll be certain to find it.”
I tripped on that. “You won’t . . .” I couldn’t finish the thought.
“Storm the castle? Lay waste to Windroven? If I wanted to do that, I would have done it by now.”
Something about the ferocious certainty in his voice made me shiver.
“Why haven’t you, then?” I whispered.
“You know the answer to that. For the same reason I’ve agreed to your plan.”
“Which is the reason you didn’t just kidnap me that night at Louson.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment.
“Annfwn needs you, yes—but we need you willing, Andromeda.”
“What for?”
“As I said before, it’s a long tale, and some of it I cannot tell you until I am certain of your loyalty. Suffice it to say that without you, my land and my people will be lost.”
“Uorsin said you can’t go back in, once you’ve come out.”
A shade of surprise crossed his face, but he acknowledged it with a nod. “We’ve never been entirely certain how much Salena confided in him. There’s some truth to that, but it’s not the whole story. Still, yes, many Tala will not be able to return to Annfwn if you do not come with us.”
“Quite the incentive to fight.”
That feral grin flashed. “Indeed. You could call us desperate.”
“It makes me wonder at the incentive for them to leave, then.”
“Even more powerful.”
“I don’t understand how I can help them return—I know nothing of magic or any of this.”
“You will,” he replied with firm confidence. “You’ll learn.” The way he said it made me think he’d said those words before, convincing others besides me.
“I hope you’re right. That this—all of this—hasn’t been for nothing.”
“It won’t be.” His voice resonated with fierce determination. “It can’t be.”
On the dark walk back to the castle, while I slipped between checkpoints and made my silent way, from time to time I glimpsed the wolf pacing me. Guarding me all the way.
12
Just after breakfast, I took Amelia’s hand and lied to her. I commenced the biggest acting job of my life by picking at my breakfast and casting nervous glances about the room. It helped that I hadn’t slept all night. Once I’d made it back to my rooms—after answering Dafne’s questions, changing back into my nightclothes, finding my drowsy guards, and telling them I had to sleep in my own bed after all—the first glimmers of dawn were breaking along the horizon.
I put my eye to the space in the bricked-up window, wondering if I’d see his wolf shape among the many, running black on black between the encamped armies. Instead I heard a howl. Vital. Triumphant.
Shivering, I drew back and climbed under my covers. Not sleepy, I lit the lamp and examined Rayfe’s ring. The dark stone turned out to be a ruby. Such a deep red that it looked black unless I tilted it to the light exactly right. Moons and other symbols I didn’t recognize chased each other around the outside. On the inner circle, words had been inscribed into the silver. I’d thought to ask Dafne if she knew the language, but I had hidden the ring from her at the last moment.
I didn’t tell her Rayfe had shown. In the flesh.
Both kinds.
I don’t think I feared what she would say. The whole thing had felt . . . intimate. I wanted to keep the experience close for now, where I could examine it in the silence of my heart. The way he’d touched me. The kiss.
How I’d responded.
The animal he’d further awakened in me had prowled through my blood while the castle came awake, keeping me from feeling the least bit drowsy. That and the terrible anxiety over what the morning would bring.
Amelia, always so sensitive to my moods, stopped me in the hall, as I knew she would, asking after my health.
I bit my lip. “I’m so afraid, Amelia.” I poured all my fear, terrible dreams and worry for the future into it. Really, it wasn’t a lie at all.
Her violet eyes darkened with concern, her clear brow furrowed as she held on to my hands.
“You mustn’t be frightened, Andi. We’re safe here. That horrible man can’t breach these walls. Come and sit with my ladies today. That prowling around the parapets can’t be good for your peace of mind.”
“I can’t! I can’t sit there wondering if . . .” I trailed off, looking nervously down the hallway.
“If what?” she asked me gently. Soothing me. It got easier and easier to feel genuinely awful.
“If there’s really a tunnel under the castle,” I whispered.
“Oh, Andi!”
Frantic, I hushed her.
“I’ve heard rumors. What if he gets in? What if he gets into the castle and takes me and—”
She bent her head to mine, lowering her voice to match my hushed whispers. “There’s not. Hugh would know.”
“I have to know. I can’t bear not knowing!”
“We’ll ask, then.”
“No! I’m so embarrassed to be so afraid, Amelia. Please don’t tell. Please, please, please.”
Amelia’s eyes welled with sympathetic tears. “Don’t be embarrassed, Sweetie. Anyone in your place would be afraid. Of course you need to know. Let’s go look.”
�
��Oh, no—I don’t want to make you do that.”
“It’ll be fun. An adventure! Remember how you used to look under the bed for me, to check for monsters? This is just like that. We’ll look, you’ll see there’s no tunnel, and then we’ll have a lovely, relaxing day. Yes?”
Not trusting my voice, I pressed my lips together and nodded.
We made our way down to the depths of the castle. Alight with the game, Amelia willingly scooted down back hallways and ducked around corners to avoid servants. At one point, a page boy fetching supplies from the cellar nearly stumbled upon us. We crouched behind a wine barrel, Amelia pressing a finger to her lips, eyes dancing with merry excitement, waiting for him to leave.
Once he did, nearly stepping on Amelia’s gown on his way out, we both burst into giggles. Mine might have been more hysterical, punched out by the anxiety in my chest threatening to stop my heart.
“See? This is so fun!” Amelia squeezed my hand. “Like when we were kids. I’ve missed those days.”
“Thank you for doing this for me.” I meant it. Hopefully she’d never know how much I meant it.
“Let’s go back upstairs and have some wine, then!”
“But we haven’t checked all the corners yet.” I let the worry creep into my voice.
“Then we’ll look in every one until you’re happy.”
I had to nudge her into seeing the place—the too-dark crack between shelves that had come ajar. Because I had moved them last night.
Curious, Amelia took a few steps. Hesitated.
“This is most odd. Perhaps we should tell Hugh.”
“Oh, but he’s so busy. It’s probably just a little cave. Let’s explore. You don’t want the game to end yet, do you?”
“I don’t know, Andi . . .”
“Please? It’s really taking my mind off everything.”
“Okay, then.” She smiled at me. “Whatever makes you happy.”
By the time she realized the light in the tunnel wasn’t only from the lamp she carried, but from daylight, Rayfe’s men had seized us.
Screaming and fighting came easily.
All that nervous energy boiled up and I scratched and clawed as if my life depended on it. My legs tangled in the court gown I’d worn, as did my sister’s in hers. I carried no dagger, since I knew she wouldn’t.
They dragged us out into the light, hands clamped over our mouths, iron grips inescapable. The men were a blur of dark hair and hushed commands.
They threw Amelia onto Rayfe’s lap, where he sat on a huge horse, her gorgeous red-gold hair tumbling over his shoulder as he clamped her to him, easily holding her, muffling her shrieks. Making sure she saw me.
“The other is the one we want,” he ordered the man holding me in a fierce whisper. “Don’t let her escape!”
With that, I put on a burst of strength, biting down on the hand over my mouth and stomping on the arch of the man’s foot. He dropped with a curse and I ran back for the tunnel mouth.
“Run, Andi!” Amelia screamed behind me. Shouts rang out from the castle walls above.
“Leave her!” Rayfe ordered. “Retreat!”
Just inside the tunnel, I looked back to see them riding away. A few arrows plunged into the ground around them, threatening nothing. Everyone had seen the bright flag of Amelia’s hair. An arm of Tala quickly swallowed them up.
I drew up my skirt and ran to perform the next scene in the greatest acting job ever attempted.
Liar.
Traitor.
The ugly words pummeled through my brain as I climbed through the cellars, Amelia’s terrified face emblazoned there.
Hugh and his men found me before I’d gotten far. Enraged, his face distorted with emotion, Hugh seized my arms in a bruising grip.
“What happened?” he shouted in my face.
Sobbing, out of breath, I gasped for words. He shook me.
“Tell me!”
“A tunnel,” I choked. “That way. Seal it. Oh, for the love of Moranu, they took her.”
Hugh released me and my legs gave way. I lay there in a crumpled heap, crying out my guilt and fear. Liar. Traitor. Please, Moranu, let this work. Dimly I heard the men race off to find the tunnel.
Someone grabbed my arm and dragged me to my feet. Einsly.
“Gently,” Hugh ordered him. “Look, she’s been hurt.” Hugh pulled me from Einsly’s grip and enfolded me in his arms. For a moment I clung to him, the golden prince. Whose heart I’d ripped out and tossed to the enemy.
“Tell me what happened, Andi. No one blames you.”
I sobbed out the story. How it was all my fault, how Amelia had sought to soothe my fears. And now . . .
“Who told you these rumors?” Einsly demanded.
Blankly I stared at him. I hadn’t thought up a story for that.
“Servants,” I stammered. “One of the maids said her gran talked about it. She was afraid.”
“The one time a maid has useful gossip and they don’t tell the men who can actually do something about it,” Einsly griped, glaring at me.
“Come, you’re hurt,” Hugh told me. “Let’s get you upstairs.” Ever courteous to me, he quaked under the fear and grief. “Your dress is torn—did they?”
Surprised, I looked down. My bodice had torn open, showing a fair amount of bosom. Shaken, I pulled the ragged edges together.
“Did they . . . harm you?” Hugh could barely speak the words.
“Oh, no. No, Hugh. Nothing like that. I’m sure they won’t harm Amelia, either.” I struggled to find the right words, to ease at least this dread for him. “They know who she is. She’s too valuable to . . . harm.”
“I will rescue her,” he vowed. “I won’t rest until she’s safe with me again.”
“Whatever it takes?” I stopped him. “Swear?”
“I so swear, to Glorianna and above.” Hugh’s summer-blue eyes glowed with certainty.
Hopefully Rayfe would send the parley soon.
He did. By the time we’d made it up to the main court room, everyone was abuzz with the word that a messenger had ridden up to the castle under the white flag.
“Go to your chambers,” Hugh ordered me upon hearing the news. “You do not need to suffer through this.”
“She’s my sister.” I firmed my jaw. “I won’t cower in my rooms while she suffers.”
“Very well, then.” Hugh snatched up a goblet of wine and drank it down. I wanted to tell him it would be all right. I hoped it would be. I took a step and Dafne stopped me.
“Your shawl, Princess.” She draped it over my shoulders, artfully arranging it to cover my bosom, giving me a stern look. Right. Don’t blow it now. Abruptly my frenzied energy bled away. My legs felt weak and exhausted. My head swam. “Have a seat, Princess. Gather yourself.”
I tried.
In silence, we waited for the messenger. At any rate, Hugh, Dafne, and I were silent. The courtiers whispered among themselves and one of Amelia’s ladies wailed dramatically in the background, her voice echoing down the hall in an eerie whine that reminded me of the howling I’d heard the first night the Tala attacked. I clenched my jaw against it.
Einsly and a few of his men escorted the messenger in, looking like they’d prefer to cut him into little pieces. He held himself with arrogant confidence, as if he didn’t notice their presence. His short dark hair glinted here and there with highlights as red as a fox’s coat; his sharp blue eyes swept the court and fastened on me with intense curiosity. And perhaps dislike.
He gave me a little nod, however, and bowed to Hugh with mocking courtesy.
“Prince Hugh of Avonlidgh, I am Terin of the Tala. I am here to propose a trade. Your lovely wife, the Princess Amelia, for your sister-in-law and our kin, the Princess Andromeda.”
This should have been a surprise to no one. Nevertheless, a shocked murmur ran through the assembly. I wanted to hiss with impatience.
Hugh, looking unutterably weary, leaned his head on his hand and rubbed his eyes.
/> “I’m sure I need not point out,” Terin continued, “that this is simply a renewal of our previous request, one supported by a previous treaty, one that predates most of your births, entered into by High King Uorsin himself. My liege, Rayfe of the Tala, simply wishes to see the terms of that agreement sealed. He proposes to wed the Princess Andromeda in full sight of both our peoples at high noon. Then we shall cease all hostilities and return to our lives.”
Hugh had sat up straight at this. “Noon of this day. Good Glorianna—that’s absurd.”
“Princess Amelia—who is in excellent health, I assure you—may stand up for her sister, then return with you to Windroven, and we will decamp immediately after. We feel this is a most reasonable offer.”
“Now, see here—”
“Prince Hugh,” I interrupted.
His head whipped around to me, shocked.
“Brother.” I gentled my voice. “We must agree. We have no choice.”
“You would wed the enemy?” He sounded horrified.
“To save my sister and my people?” I stood. “Yes. I will do my duty as my birth dictates. You, Prince Hugh, should understand that my own honor compels me.”
Terin tilted his head, surveying me, then flicked his gaze back to Hugh, who still stared at me, face flushed. I gave him a little smile. Hugh did not deserve the pain I’d put him through.
“You’ve kept your word to me and to the High King,” I told him. “You’ve done everything to win this. Now we are defeated—through no fault of yours—by a wily enemy. It’s time to pay the price.”
“Let me kill him, liege!” Einsly called out. “We’ll send his head back to Rayfe, and—”
“And he will send Amelia’s head back to us!” I shouted him down. “I refuse to be the agent of my sister’s death.”
“Andi,” Hugh pleaded, “I can’t break my word.”
“You don’t have to. I might point out that, as Princess of the Realm, I outrank all of you.” I turned to Terin. “In place of High King Uorsin and his heir, Princess Ursula, I accept your terms. We shall meet at noon.”
“You must be wed by a priest of Glorianna, and they might not agree,” Hugh inserted. “They take days to prepare for a wedding.”
The Twelve Kingdoms: The Mark of the Tala Page 16
