Once Upon a Castle

by Nora Roberts

  “You will be all right,” she lied. “Your loyal troops will overcome the enemy. I will stay here and guard you until they come.”

  He clutched at her hand. His face was gray, and his eyes seemed focused on some distant sight. “You are brave, Tressalara. Too headstrong…but no one can fault you for your courage.”

  His head sank upon his breast, and the ominous red stains on his tunic grew and coalesced. His breathing was ragged and irregular. “I must leave you now,” he said.

  Tressalara cradled him in her arms. “No! Ah, saints!” She could see the life ebbing from him second by second. “Father, I swear to God Most High that your sacrifice will not be in vain. I will do anything that is necessary to rally the people and destroy Lector. I will avenge you!”

  He looked at her and gave a little sigh: “Ah, Tressalara, If only you had been born a son…”

  Silence filled the chapel. Tressalara was suddenly alone in the chapel with the dregs of her life around her and the taste of bitterness on her tongue.

  2

  In the Caverns of Mist, an apprentice sorceress and an apprentice wizard watched the tragic scene in their crystal globe. “Poor Tressalara,” Niniane said sorrowfully, touching the princess’s image in the glass. She turned her head away to hide a tear, and her white draperies swirled like moonbeams. “And poor King Varro.”

  Her companion hunched his skinny shoulders, and his spangled cloak shivered with dark light. “It’s all your fault,” Illusius accused. “If you hadn’t mixed that eye of newt with the bladderwort syrup…”

  “I?” Niniane exclaimed with icy hauteur. “I am not the one who broke the flask of Yann and loosed the spell that bound up Myrriden.”

  “Yes, but if there hadn’t been newt and bladderwort lying about everywhere, it wouldn’t have exploded the way it did and—“

  The two glanced uneasily at the rear of the cavern, where the great wizard Myrriden was encased in a sheet of glittering Spell-Ice as clear as glass. Although Myrriden was supposed to be in a deep sleep from the spell gone awry, his gray eyes were wide open. They seemed to stare at his erstwhile students in either fury or resignation, depending upon the light. At the moment a bubble of ice glimmered like a tear on the old man’s cheek.

  Niniane turned hastily away, tugging at one of her silvery curls.

  “Oh, hush! We won’t get anywhere if we don’t stop arguing about it. If only we could discover the spell that would release us from these caverns, I would find a way to save the princess.” She sighed. “But we can’t. So you must continue to assist me in going through these endless mounds of spellbooks until we find a way to unfreeze Myrriden. Then he can use his mighty powers to enable Tressalara to save her people.”

  “We’ve been at it for ten human years now.” The apprentice’s dark brows drew together in a scowl as he scanned the stacks and stacks of cobwebbed tomes stretching up into the darkness of the cavern’s mile-high roof. At their current rate of reading, it should only take, oh, about another human century. Or two. “I need time to study for the apprentice examination. Why should I even have to get involved? She’s not my human.”

  “Hah! You’re so lazy and selfish you’ll never make senior wizard! No wonder you don’t have a human of your own to guard.”

  Illusius frowned. “Do so! His name is Cador. He’s off fighting in the mountain kingdoms. He’s a highlander and a mighty warrior. The fiercest in the entire world. Why, he could save this puny little kingdom without even missing his supper.”

  Niniane smiled sweetly. “Then why don’t you ‘call’ him? Surely so great a warrior would be up to the challenge.”

  “I doubt if he could spare the time…even if he wanted to help Tressalara.”

  The sorceress laughed. “I shall see to it that he does.”

  She picked up her book titled Love Spells and Potions, Volume XVIII, and turned confidently to a page marked with a wide silver ribbon. “You’re not the only one who has been cramming for the test.”

  “The bastard! May he rot in hell!” Tressalara looked magnificent in her topaz-studded gown of cloth of gold, her eyes blazing with fury. As she paced the floor of her tower bedchamber, the gown’s stiff train whispered angrily over the stones. Two days since the coup and her father’s murder, and she had had no time to mourn him. Lector had not allowed it. And today she would be forced to wed him.

  “If only I could have escaped through the tunnel before his men returned and found me!” At least she had bloodied one and sent another to his maker. She whipped around to face Elani. “And you! You should have stayed hidden until it was safe to come out.”

  Elani wrung her hands. “How could I, highness, when I knew you were the villain’s prisoner?”

  They heard the sound of the door being unbarred, and Lector entered, resplendent in black and silver, with a massive collar of ruby-studded white gold about his neck. As his men fanned out to block the doorway, Tressalara stepped protectively in front of Elani.

  “Your ignorance shows, Lector,” she sneered. “It is bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

  He smiled, grasping her arm in a painful grip. “I make my own luck. And I would brave more than the threat of ill fortune for you, my sweet.”

  Stepping forward, he took her chin in his hand and lifted her face to his. She could not help but notice the unusual ring he wore: a gargoyle with one eye carved from an emerald. The other eye was missing. Tressalara realized that the lost emerald was the one she found in the chapel after her father was slain. So it was Lector himself who had struck her father down. Her hate chilled to a stern and icy rage.

  He ran his finger along the sweet curve of her lower lip. “I shall teach you to love me,” he said. “I am highly skilled in the sensual arts.”

  She jerked her head away. “I will never love the traitor who murdered my father, the rightful king, in cold blood!”

  He saw the revulsion in her eyes and laughed softly. “There is nothing I like better than a challenge.”

  Pulling Tressalara into his arms, he pressed a hot kiss against her closed lips and mocked her resistance.

  “I look forward to this evening and many others. In time you will come to appreciate the, ah…benefits, shall we say, of being my wife. With your beauty and my will, we shall forge a formidable union. I will know how to pleasure you until you beg for my favors.”

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I would rather wed a pig!”

  His breath hissed out in anger, and she tried to free herself from his hold. He jerked her face back and laughed, aroused to have her completely in his power. “It will be a pleasure to break you to bridle.”

  His grip tightened. He was hurting her purposely, his fingers digging into her flesh, but she bore the pain stoically. She lifted her head defiantly, although her lips had gone white with pain.

  Elani could stand no more. She leapt to her mistress’s aid. Before the soldiers could even draw their swords, Lector’s hand whipped out and struck the girl. Elani fell to the floor, dazed and weeping. He moved toward the door, then stopped and issued a challenge over his shoulder:

  “Heed me well, Tressalara. Do not cross me! Even a princess is expendable.” With a laugh of truimph he swaggered out of the room, followed by his soldiers.

  Tressalara helped Elani to her feet. The imprint of Lector’s fingers stained the girl’s face like a bloody hand. “How can a man with so handsome a face have a soul so filled with canker? It pains me to think he was once the object of my girlish admiration.”

  Her maid-in-waiting wiped her tears. “He is a cruel man. You know what tales they tell of him in the villages now. He will do what he can to break your spirit. I shudder to think of what may be in store for you this night, highness!”

  “Do not fear for me. I have a plan.” Tressalara lifted her gown’s train away from her back and slid out her jeweled dagger.

  “Oh! How did you get it past Lector’s men?”

  “I hid it in my garter. Not
even they dared to search my person.” The princess’s face was cold as marble. “If I cannot save my people, at least I will rid them of this villain Lector! I will have his life’s blood before he has my maidenhead.”

  “You cannot mean it. You will be tortured and put to death!”

  Tressalara’s violet eyes darkened to black. She twisted the bracelet on her delicate wrist, a circle of gold and ame-thyst that matched her coronet, even down to the dragon emblem of Amelonia carved into the central stone. “What kills once can kill twice. They will not take me alive.”

  Her intensity frightened Elani even more. “You must not go through with this mad scheme. Only think, you are the living symbol of Amelonia. Only you, highness, can command the powers of the Andun Stone.” Her face brightened. “Can you not use the crystal’s magic to overcome Lector?”

  “Alas, even if I were free to discover where my father hid it, I doubt I could harness the Andun’s energy.” A look of savage pain flitted across Tressalara’s mobile features. She should have disobeyed her father and studied the sacred scroll without his knowledge.

  “When I should have been studying the Dragonmaster’s teachings, I was out running through the woods like a wild creature. Now the kingdom will reap the harvest of my selfish folly. I must carry out my plan.”

  But Elani would not be persuaded. “I have a better one. They did not discover the secret passage behind your bed. You could conceal yourself there, highness, and I would put on your gown and veiled headpiece and go to the chapel in your stead. Once the guards were gone, you could flee in disguise. Lector would not discover the ruse until the vows were exchanged and the veil lifted. You would have ample time to make your escape.”

  “Yes, and let them kill you when they discover I’ve fled?” Tressalara took her lady-in-waiting’s icy hands in hers and smiled. “You are a brave and true friend to me, dear Elani. You will do both myself and the kingdom more good if you are alive.”

  There was a great flapping of wings at the window, and they turned to see a large white bird fly in and settle down on the sill: Rossmine, the wild hawk that Tressalara had found wounded and nursed back to health. She had been training it as a surprise for her father. The creature was so tame now that it would feed daintily from the princess’s own hand.

  Tressalara went to the casement and held out her arm, and Rossmine flew to it. The hawk settled on her wrist, curving its sharp talons so delicately that they didn’t leave a scratch. She smoothed the bird’s feathers with a light touch. “Rossmine, my fair companion in adventure, I give you your freedom. Fly free. Soar high!”

  She tried to toss the bird into the blue void beyond the window, but the hawk only fluttered away and arced back to the sill, settling in stubbornly once more.

  “She will not leave you,” Elani said, “any more than I will. Rossmine wants to help. If only there were some ally to whom you might send a plea, with Rossmine as your messenger! Surely there is a man somewhere in this vast kingdom who would rally the people and come to your aid.”

  The hawk stretched her glorious wings and cried out piercingly: “Cador! Cador the Warrior!” But neither woman understood.

  As Tressalara’s hand drew back, the gold and amethyst bracelet gleamed in the sunlight. A daring plan took rapid form in her brain. “Your words have given me an idea, Elani. It may not work, but I believe it is our only hope!”

  An hour passed before Lector’s men came to escort the bride to the chapel for the marriage service. When they unbarred the door, an astonishing sight met their eyes. Elani sat in one chair before the empty hearth. The princess’s golden slippers stood empty before the opposite chair, which held only her crumpled gold wedding gown—and a large white hawk.

  “Where is the Princess Tressalara?” their captain demanded.

  Elani pointed mutely to the bird. Rossmine turned her noble head and eyed the soldier fiercely. They saw that the hawk wore a circle of gold and amethyst upon its head. The men’s mouths fell open in astonishment.

  “What sorcery is this?” The captain gasped. “The creature wears the princess’s crown!”

  “Witchcraft!” another mumbled, making a sign to ward off the evil eye.

  As they milled about in confusion, Lord Lector joined them. “What is the delay? I am most impatient to claim my lovely bride.”

  The soldiers parted ranks to let him enter. “The Princess Tressalara has used the power of the Andun Crystal to turn herself into a bird.”

  “Idiots!” Lector pushed past them and stopped in his tracks. He would not have believed this were he not seeing it with his own eyes. The hawk hissed at him, and light winked from the carved dragon in the central amethyst upon its coronet. Lector’s tan face blanched with mingled fear and fury. He lost control.

  “By God, she shall not escape me through such tricks! She is of no use to me now!”

  He lunged forward, intending to grab the bird and wring its neck. Instead, Rossmine spread her mighty wings and struck him in the eye with one. Before he could protect himself, a talon raked his cheek, laying it open. Then the hawk bounded to the open casement and launched herself into the air. With a mighty screech and a flap of her powerful wings, she vanished into the clouds.

  Lector held a hand to his ruined face as blood dripped hot through his splayed fingers. Hate burned in his eyes. “You will pay for this, Tressalara!” he shouted.

  He rounded on his soldiers. “From this moment I declare the Princess Tressalara to be a traitoress to her country. A purse of one hundred gold coins will reward the man who finds the princess and brings her to me in chains…alive or dead!”

  Elani gasped, and the captain turned toward her. “What of this serving wench?”

  “Lock her in and bar the door. I have no time to deal with her now. Let her starve to death for whatever part she has played in this black magic.”

  Lector and his men went out. Elani listened at the door until she was sure they were truly gone, then secured it with the bar on the inside, as Tressalara had instructed. When it was in place, she crossed to the enormous tester bed and tapped on the wall behind it.

  Tressalara slid the panel open, grinning in relief. “I can’t believe he was deceived by our ruse!”

  Jumping down, she pulled out an enormous length of knotted fabric. Gowns, shifts, sheets, and cloaks had all been tied into a sturdy rope. “To think I believed that learning to knot a fringe was a waste of my time.” She laughed ruefully. “Now help me tie it to the bedpost, and I will make my escape.”

  The drop from the tower window to the ground outside the castle walls was precipitous. If Tressalara had not been one to delight in heights and feats of daring, it would have made her dizzy with fear. White water foamed over striated boulders. A fall would mean instant death.

  They fed out the makeshift rope and saw that it came woefully short of reaching the ground. Tressalara heard her maid take in a shaky breath. “Don’t be concerned, Elani. I have done this before—in my younger days, you know.”

  She bit her lip as an unexpected sting of tears made her eyes smart. How angry her father had been at her reckless disregard! And how proud of her daring. Oh, Father! She dashed her tears away. She must act now and mourn later.

  The two young women embraced. The princess looked solemn. “Have no fear that I will abandon you. I will return to rescue you, Elani.”

  Clambering to the casement, Tressalara yanked on her rope, testing its strength, then took a deep breath and began her perilous descent. One wrong move and she would be dashed to death on the rocks below. Thank Saint Ethelred that this wall was hidden from the view of anyone inside the castle and that the tall trees of the woods across the river screened her from view of the village.

  She reached the end of the rope and let go, springing into a crouch to absorb the shock of impact. She rolled into a tangle of brambles and came up cursing and winded, with dirt on her face and burrs on her ripped smock. Her knuckles were scraped, and a hole was torn in her breeches. All in all
, Tressalara was pleased with her appearance. She looked a proper ragamuffin now. No one would suspect that the young urchin, Trev, was actually a princess in disguise.

  A princess with a price on her head.

  As she slipped into the shadows of the Mystic Forest, Tressalara stopped for one final look at the turrets of the castle. “I will return, Father,” she said, the words both vow and prayer. “I swear it on my life. I shall rally the people and lead an army to reclaim your kingdom.”

  Despite Elani’s opinions, she would not need the help of any man to do so.

  Niniane paced the Caverns of Mist, snagging her floating white robe on a protruding quartz crystal. She yanked it away impatiently. Her fellow apprentice was supposed to be working on a spell to help Tressalara, but there’d been no sign of him for hours.

  The sorceress projected her voice until it filled the caverns. “Illusius, I have grown tired of waiting for your magic to work. I believe you aren’t conjuring at all. In fact, I believe you are just off sulking somewhere!”

  “Not so!”

  In a puff of dark smoke the apprentice sorcerer appeared not two feet from where Niniane stood. With another wave of his hands, they were both transported to the entrance of the Caverns of Mist in a twinkling. She was very impressed but worked to hide it. “Swaggering coxcomb!”

  Illusius glowered. What a tiresome girl she was. Well, this would convince her of his superior powers. “Help is on the way.” He clapped his hands, and the thunder of hooves echoed through the forest. “I ‘called’ Lord Cador, and he has returned from the borderlands! He is meeting with Brand, leader of the rebels.”

  A great band of men rode by the hidden cavern mouth. They were not decked out as splendidly as Lector’s men in their black and silver livery emblazoned with the scorpion emblem. Truth to tell, they looked a bit disreputable in their shabby leather jerkins, their humble tunics and cloaks. But here and there the gleam of armor shone beneath their weathered garments, and their eyes were those of warriors.