Castle of the Wolf

by Sandra Schwab

  “Hm, let me see.” Cissy pretended to ponder while she fetched him something to drink. “You are my husband. You received a nasty bump on the head. Now you’re bedridden and need some loving tender care.” She turned to him and raised her brows. “Whatever do you think I’m doing here?”

  Dark color splashed his cheeks. She decided to ignore the accompanying scowl, and held out the cup.

  “What is it?” he asked suspiciously.

  Cissy rolled her eyes. Really! You would have thought he was a boy of six, not a grown man. Outwardly, she smiled. “Chamomile tea.”

  If possible, his scowl darkened. “Do you really think I’d drink something that looks like horse piss?” he snapped—or rather, croaked. He huddled into the bedlinen.

  Cissy tapped her foot on the floor. The demon wolf was sharpening his claws again? It would do him no good. She narrowed her eyes and shoved the cup at him. “Drink it! Or do I have to hold your nose and pour the stuff down your throat?”

  It gave her great satisfaction to see his eyes widen. It was an even greater satisfaction to watch him drink the tea, even if he kept muttering under his breath. When he was done and she had put the cup away, she sat down on the chair beside the bed once more. While she carefully smoothed her skirts, she watched him from under lowered lashes. The bedcovers had slipped down to reveal a large discoloration on his shoulder. Her heart clenched with a longing to put her lips there, to kiss it all better.

  Taking a deep breath, she took the queen of spades from her book and held it out to him. “Johann found this in your jacket.”

  He glanced at it. His eyes rose from the little queen to Cissy’s face. Abruptly he turned his head away, but not before she saw his expression, his desperate yearning and vulnerability.

  The cords in his throat moved as he swallowed. “I must have found it somewhere, picked it up, put it in my pocket and forgotten all about it,” he murmured, still keeping his eyes averted.

  Cissy stared at him. She looked down at the card, watched how the candlelight danced over its surface and revealed short glimpses of the queen and her lover. She looked back at her husband, at the angry bruise on his shoulder.

  “You’re such a liar, Fenris,” she finally said.

  “What?” He jerked around, coming half up on his elbow, and stared at her, his eyes a little wild. He breathed heavily, as if he had run for miles. But when she reached out to touch him, he flinched as if she would strike him.

  “No.”

  “Fenris—”

  “No!” He fell back onto the bed and groaned a little as his body protested. “No.” He threw his arm over his face, shielding his eyes.

  Cissy watched how his chest moved up and down with his harsh breath. She remembered what Johann had said: “I thought it must be something precious to him.”

  “You did not keep it by accident,” she said quietly.

  He laughed, a painful, rasping sound, muffled against his arm. Or perhaps it had been a sob.

  “Don’t you understand?” he asked. He took the arm away to look at her. “Why do you still not…” He paused, and his eyes glittered feverishly. “God! Don’t you know how unworthy I feel? The last woman I lay with was a whore, no less, because my betrothed…” He gave a bitter snort. “Ten years ago I last lay with a woman, and she was a goddamned whore. And even she couldn’t hide her disgust at the sight of my body.” Pain spasmed through his features, and he closed his eyes as if he could no longer endure the sight of her. “Don’t you know how I wish…how I wish…” His Adam’s apple moved convulsively. The desperation that laced his voice cut into her heart. “How I wish,” he continued in a hoarse whisper, “that I could have met you before this happened.” His fist struck the stump hiding underneath the blankets. “When I was still whole and sound—a man instead of a cripple.” His voice broke.

  Cissy thought her heart would surely break, too.

  How could he consider himself less than a man? That his body could repel her?

  “Fenris…”

  He gave a heartwrenchingly unsteady laugh. His face briefly contorted before he looked at her again. “That foolish King of Dwarves,” he whispered. “What right does he have to court the Fairy Princess?” Wetness clung to his eyelashes.

  Dear God, why hadn’t she understood earlier? He was utterly convinced he was doomed to roam the ramparts of the castle like the beast in a fairy tale, without any hope of redemption.

  Her eyes were stinging as she slid from the chair onto the bed. “Fenris…” She touched his shoulder, the crown of his head, desperate to soothe his inner torment. “Oh, Fenris, darling, don’t you see? Life is not a fairy tale. We are not kings of dwarves or fairy princesses—”

  His expression hardened, and he twisted away from her touch. “And yet I will only drag you down into my darkness, and that I won’t do, Celia. I won’t!” His gaze roamed her face. As if he couldn’t help himself, his hand rose and he ran the back of his forefinger down her cheek. “Don’t cry, my sweet,” he whispered. “It is better for you. I have already wrecked the lives of my parents. And my brother… Do you know how close we once were? When we were still children, he always trailed after me like a little puppy dog…” He swallowed hard. “And then I went and destroyed everything. How I must disgust them.” His voice wavered. “I disgust myself. So it is only fitting, is it not, that I should have destroyed myself, too, and been shot into a cripple.” He stared at her, his eyes very green.

  Cissy’s breath caught in her throat. “No, Fenris, no.” She leaned forward and cupped his face in her hands. “How can you even think such a thing? You don’t disgust your parents, and you most certainly don’t disgust me.” She shook her head. “Nothing could be further from the truth. This”—she put her hand on his wounded leg, squeezed it through the blanket and did not care that tears streamed down her face and dropped onto him—“has shaped you into the man you are today, the man I fell in love with. It doesn’t make you less. It makes you more. So much more, Fenris.”

  He searched her face. “What did you say?” he whispered. Blindly, he groped for her hand. His fingers slipped into hers and clung. And more strongly: “What did you say?”

  Cissy blinked away her tears. With her free hand she stroked his face over and over, wishing to erase his bewildered look. She leaned over him and pressed a light kiss onto his forehead. “I love you, Fenris. I love you very much. I want you very much. There hasn’t been a day in the past months when my body didn’t long for yours.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then his eyes filled with tears. Reaching out to her like a drowning man might, he turned over until his head came to rest in her lap. Then he broke down. Cissy slung her arms around him while violent sobs wracked his body. She stroked his hair and back, rubbing softly between his shoulder blades.

  “Hush, sweeting, hush,” she crooned to him. “Everything will be all right.”

  He tightened his arms around her waist and held on to her as if she were his anchor in a stormy sea. And indeed, a terrible storm raged in him as all his pain and despair, all his insecurities burst forth for her to see. Yet her loving touch and voice had the power to lead him through the storm into safe harbor.

  When he finally calmed down, he turned his head a little to the side. “God knows I’m not good enough for you,” he said quietly.

  “Hush!” Cissy lightly clapped his arm in admonishment. “What rubbish you talk, dearheart.” She leaned over him, sheltering him with her body. She kissed his hair, his temple, then put her cheek on his head, mindful of his bandage. “Don’t you know you’ve been my hero ever since you rescued me from that bat?” she said lightly.

  He gave a choked laugh, just as she had hoped. “Oh yes, let’s not forget the bat. Does it count for killing a dragon, do you think?”

  “I’m sure it does.” She smiled against his hair. “Bats have wings, don’t they?”

  He laughed again, then drew his arms from her waist and turned onto his back. Cissy straightened to giv
e him room. With his head still resting in her lap, he looked up at her, his face for once stripped bare of all masks. A rush of tenderness filled her with warmth, and she gently wiped at the traces of tears on his cheeks. He took her hand and placed a kiss into her palm.

  Their gazes locked. She saw how clear his eyes were, how untroubled, though the last remnants of tears still spiked his lashes. A radiant smile spread over his face, transforming him into a younger self.

  “‘A celuy que pluys eyme en mounde,’” he quoted slowly. To her whom I love most in all the world.

  Cissy’s breath caught and her eyes widened, and wonder filled her heart. His voice became soft and lilting, as much a caress as his gaze which held on to hers.

  “Saluz ottrey e amour,

  With grace and joye and alle honour,

  Dulcissima.”

  I send greetings and love

  With grace and joy and all honor,

  sweetest lady.

  Again he kissed her palm, closing his eyes, as if to savor her taste and smell. “I love you very much, my sweet Cissy,” he said against her skin.

  Joy filled her, and love. So much love it could encompass the whole world. She stroked his head, then leaned over him and touched her mouth to his. Their lips clung and parted. Their breath flowed between them and mingled, became one. She felt his arm around her shoulders, a sweet weight, while his hand stroked the back of her neck. And Cissy knew that both of them had reached the safe harbor, and that she hadn’t needed any powers from a mandrake to gain happiness.

  ‘Will you stay with me?” he whispered.

  “You know I will. The whole night and always.”

  He fell asleep with his head still on her lap while she watched over him and remembered the story of the wolf at the woman’s hearth.

  She smiled and tousled the dark hair of her wolf and guided him through the night.

  Interlude

  A new emotion dripped into the stone.

  They pricked up their ears and listened how it trickled through the ancient walls. Slowly, slowly, like thick syrup, but, oh, clearer than sunshine and sweeter than honey.

  They rumbled amongst themselves, joyful, and basked in its warmth.

  Yes, they had known this, felt it from the first.

  Their whispers floated through the night-darkened corridors, soaked the castle.

  And they knew…

  All of them knew…

  …they wouldn’t let anybody take this warmth from them ever again.

  Chapter 22

  When Cissy woke up, specks of dust were dancing in the sunbeams falling into the room. The wind carried the sweet song of the bells of St. Margaretha’s up from the valley, where they merrily chimed the Angelus.

  Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariae et concepit de Spiritu Sancto.

  Cissy looked down at Fenris’s head in her lap, his nape exposed and vulnerable. His sides moved with deep, even breaths. Her heart swelling, she gently covered his nape with her hand and let her fingers play with his hair.

  With a sigh, he turned his head a little and nuzzled his nose into her skirt before lying his cheek onto her thigh once more. She regarded his profile, the dark, sooty lashes resting in half circles against his cheek, which was no longer deathly pale but flushed from sleep. But there were still dark circles under his eyes, and the lines of pain around his mouth had not yet fully disappeared. And yet…and yet sleep again made him look much younger than he was. Cissy could easily envision the small boy he had been. She carefully ran the back of her hand over his cheek, let his stubble rasp her knuckles.

  Down in the valley, the bells still sang of the creation of a new life, and with a sense of wonder Cissy put her hand on her stomach. Someday she would be carrying Fenris’s child. She imagined her belly swelling underneath her hand, growing round with new life. A child, created with sweetness and joy and love. A child to bring the castle to life again, to fill it with happiness and banish the beasts of the past. A small boy, with dark hair and sooty lashes, one who would grow into a gangly youngster with a devil-may-care smile. But always, always it would be a child well loved.

  Smiling, Cissy studied her sleeping husband. With gentle fingers she brushed at his forehead, then leaned down to press a kiss against his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered.

  He made a sound deep in his throat, like the purr of a big cat, and the corners of his mouth lifted. “Nuff you,” he mumbled, and his arms closed tightly around her waist. He sighed, and his breaths deepened once more.

  A delighted smile spread over Cissy’s face. “You are such a darling man,” she told him softly. “How could you stand being a snarling demon wolf for so long?” She petted his nape and his shoulders, mindful of his injuries.

  At the creaking of the door, her head whipped around. In an unconsciously protective gesture, she looped her arms around Fenris’s shoulders.

  “I beg your pardon, gnädige Frau,” Johann said. “I wasn’t sure whether you would already be awake.” His hair was windblown, and he was wearing what looked like a riding cape.

  She waved him inside. Sudden anxiety swamped her and formed a hard knot in the pit of her stomach. “Have you been out? Have you found anything?”

  Johann bowed his head and turned his cap around in his hands. “I think so. But I believe it would be better if you could come and see for yourself.” He looked up to meet her gaze. “Should this need to be testified to in front of a judge…”—a hint of ruddy color stained his cheeks—“your word would carry more weight than mine, gnädige Frau.”

  ~*~

  The wind whispered in the trees and tugged at her hair as Cissy rode down the muddy country lane at the valet’s side. Like wooly sheep did the wide Yorkshire moors, clouds dotted the bright blue sky. Bird song filled the fresh, crisp air-and yet Cissy could not suppress the shiver that coursed through her. Danger lurked beneath the idyll, and it seemed to her that the dark swaying trees wanted to tell her of the evil that was hidden in their midst. Murderer, murderer, murderer.

  She caught Johann watching her. “What is it?”

  Narrowing his eyes, the valet looked ahead over fields and meadows and the thick, dark forest on their right. “I’ve been thinking…” He cleared his throat, looked back at her. “About who might want to kill Fenris.”

  “Yes?” She inclined her head.

  “Who would have a motive.”

  “Yes.”

  The breeze seemed a little colder than before. Perhaps Johann felt it, too, for he remained silent several moments before he finally continued, very quietly. “I could think of only one person.”

  Near to them, a blackbird rose into the sky, scolding loudly as a magpie came flying over from the forest. Another blackbird joined in.

  Cissy blinked.

  With a shake of her head, she turned her attention back to Johann. “Do you really think he would do it?”

  The valet shrugged. “He would be the only one to gain if my master died.”

  “Do you think he wants to inherit the title?” Cissy frowned. “I would have thought he’d be keener on money.”

  “The Wolfenbach Hoard?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That hoax! But he wouldn’t get the castle. It would come into my sole possession.” She had learned that from the family solicitor.

  Johann raised his brows. “Perhaps he doesn’t know.”

  “Perhaps not.” Cissy shivered. She remembered the night the bat had invaded her room and he had come across her in the hallway. She remembered his stale breath wafting over her cheek. How the sunny, charming façade had given way to an arrogant, violent insolence. When the two brothers had faced each other, she had thought of a golden St. George and a dark Merlin, devil’s spawn. But outward appearances were so misleading. Mrs. Chisholm had noticed this long before her.

  All is not gold that glitters.

  Johann brought his horse to a halt. “We’ve arrived,” he said. He dismounted. Holding the reins in one hand, he went over and offered Cissy his
other to help her dismount.

  But she could not stop staring at the strip of country lane, where her husband had lain hurt and unconscious. Oh, my wolf, my wolf. All of a sudden tears clogged her throat, burnt her eyes. How very easily she could have lost him.

  “Gnädige Frau?” Johann prompted softly.

  Taking a deep breath, Cissy lifted her leg over the lower pommel of her saddle and slid down to the ground. She looked around and found the place ideal for an ambush: the forest spread out and reached al most down to the road, and yet a man could stand undetected in the underbrush here, she supposed.

  She flexed her fingers. Inside her gloves they were icy-cold.

  “Where?” she asked quietly.

  After looping the reins over the twigs of a bush, Johann led her a few steps into the forest. “A person can hide here quite undetected by people on the road.” He echoed her earlier thoughts. “If you remember, we had a bit of rain yesterday morning. In the afternoon the ground was still a little wet.” He pointed to several footsteps on the ground. Most of them were smudged, as if somebody had impatiently walked up and down, but there was one deeper, clearer set.

  Eagerly, Cissy squatted down to take a closer look.

  “Ah, yes. Here he must have waited,” Johann commented behind her.

  Frowning, she extended a fingertip and traced the outline of the tracks. “There must be something wrong with heel of his boot. See? A little corner of it is missing.” She glanced up at the valet.

  He nodded. “I’ve noticed that, too, gnädige Frau. That was the reason I asked you to come here—as I said, in case this needs to be testified to.”

  “Wouldn’t we need the boots for that as well?” As Cissy rose, a momentary dizziness overcame her. Her hand reached out for the support of the nearest tree, but Johann’s hand shot out to grip her elbow.