by Kim Stokely
My mother refills his drink. “Only your news is worrisome. Your presence in the castle brings us some comfort.” She looks over at me. “Isn’t that right, Alystrine?”
“Of course.” But I’m too on edge about these rumors, and whatever he may have found out about Tegan, to be comforted. I want to get the suspense over. “Would you like to stretch your legs?”
He nods. “I would like that.”
This informal meeting room has two separate sitting areas with a small fireplace in the center to warm it. We stroll to the opposite side of the room, away from the rest of my family. “Did you find what you were looking for?” I try to keep my voice level, but fear makes me sound shrill.
He pauses mid-stride then turns to me. “I did.”
It’s as if he’s punched me in the stomach. I can’t catch my breath. “You’re lying.”
“No.”
The pity I see in his eyes riles my anger. “Prove it.”
“I can. But it must be done in secret.”
My chest tightens. “What do you mean?”
No one must know. He leans in toward me, like he wants to share a tender thought. Or a kiss. Meet me in the stables tonight. I have a disguise for you. We will ride out together and I will show you the truth.
Can’t we take a passage?
It’s far too dangerous. I will call to you when it’s time to leave.
I try to read deeper into his thoughts to see what he has planned, but he’s closed them. His face betrays no emotions, either.
“You must trust me,” he murmurs.
For a moment, I sense his longing. He reaches out to tuck back a strand of my hair. His fingers hesitate along the side of my face. Instead of comfort, I am filled with overwhelming fear. He really believes Tegan has betrayed me.
He takes hold of my shoulders as if to keep me from fleeing. “No matter what you learn. Remember . . . .” He stops so he can bring his mouth to my ear. His warm breath caresses my cheek. “There is one who loves you more than his own life. There is nothing I would not do for you. Nothing I would deny you, if it were within my power to give it.” But I will not marry you with this shadow over us. You must know the truth.
“Alystrine?” Kennis calls from across the room. “Are you all right?”
The blood has drained from my head. Dizzy, I pull myself from Kyran. “I don’t think dinner agreed with me.”
Kennis leaves Quinn’s side. “What’s wrong? You’re piqued.” She glances between Kyran and me, puts the back of her hand on my forehead. “No fever.”
“It’s nothing.” I avoid her eyes, knowing she’ll be able to tell I’m lying. “It was probably the soup. You know I’ve never liked turnips.”
We pass another hour around the fire but I pay little attention to the conversation.
Back in my rooms, Tamra helps me undress. I play up the upset stomach card, knowing it’ll mean she won’t think anything of me sleeping in tomorrow morning. It’ll hopefully buy me some time in case this errand of Kyran’s keeps me out late.
I’m in bed, sipping ginger tea that my mother sent up, when she comes in to check on me. “How are you feeling now?”
“A little better.” I take another drink from my cup. “The tea is helping.”
“What did Kyran talk to you about?”
I hate lying to her, so I don’t. Not really anyway. “He keeps telling me how much he loves me. It’s a little disconcerting. I barely know him and he’s confessing his devotion.”
Kennis sits on the edge of my bed. “Don’t you like him?”
I shrug. “I just wish he’d give me some time to get used to the idea.”
“You have time.” My mother brushes her hand over my head. “Two whole years. Use it wisely.”
“I will. At least, I’m trying to.”
She kisses my forehead. “Get some rest. Send for me if you don’t feel well in the night.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Once my tea is done, Tamra takes away the cup then extinguishes the torches along the wall. The dampened flames in the fireplace are my only light, and they don’t give off much.
I listen to Tamra puttering around in the next room. Rolling out of bed, I put on my robe and slippers then sit in the chair by the fire. There’s nothing to do but to stare into the embers and wonder what Kyran’s found out about Tegan . . . and pray: Please, let this be a mistake. Let Kyran be wrong.
I’m about ready to burst out of my skin with impatience when I finally hear Kyran’s voice in my head.
It’s time.
I visualize the stables, then find the passage that connects to it. Once there, my eyes try and adjust to the dim moonlight coming through the slats in the wood. I don’t see Kyran.
Here.
I still can’t see him.
“Behind you.”
I turn. He thrusts an armful of clothes toward me. I change in one of the stalls as Kyran readies his horse, Braga. He’s found me a simple woolen skirt and linen blouse of a Commoner to wear. Thankfully, there’s a heavy woolen cape and boots as well. Although there’s been no more snow, the winter air is still frigid. I’m lacing up a boot when Kyran’s silhouette appears in the threshold.
“Are you ready?”
“Almost.” I slip on the other boot. “Can you tell me where we’re going?”
“A pub, outside the protection of Uz.”
“In the Common Lands?”
“Yes. There’s someone there you must talk to.”
“Why couldn’t they come here?”
He doesn’t answer until my laces are tied and I come to his side. “You will know when you meet him.” He lifts the hood over my head. “Are there still bans around the castle, or can you take a passage outside the walls?”
“I think they’ve all been lifted.”
“Good. Give me ten minutes to ride Braga out of the gate, then come.” He pauses. “Will you be able to find me?”
I may not have a deep emotional bond yet with Kyran, but our experiences have definitely given us a connection. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
He nods, then effortlessly swings himself onto Braga’s back. Ten minutes.
To keep myself occupied, I Spirit Travel with Kyran as he rides across the courtyard to the main gate. The guards don’t question him before lifting the wooden bars so he can ride through. He gallops down the hill toward the city. Braga’s powerful strides soon have them on the outskirts. Kyran slows as they near the surrounding forest. He turns the horse around and looks up at the castle.
Come.
Without thinking, my consciousness wills my body to reconnect with it. Only instead of my spirit traveling back to the stables first, my body is yanked through the passage. The disconcerting jolt I usually feel when reuniting is even more pronounced. It’s as if I’ve been slammed into a brick wall. I stumble in front of Braga, causing the horse to dance backward in fear. Kyran mutters soothingly to the horse but says nothing to me as he pulls me up to sit behind him. Once my arms are securely around his waist, Kyran spurs Braga into the forest.
As we race between the trees, I realize this is the first time I’ve been outside the palace walls since I arrived back in Uz some two months ago. As cold as the air is, it feels wonderful rushing past my cheeks. I lift my hand to pull down my hood.
Don’t. Your hair is too well known.
You think we’re being followed?
I pray not, but it’s best not to take chances.
Craving fresh air I lean back, catching a glimpse of a silver moon and the heaven full of constellations before they are swallowed up by the tree tops. I kissed Tegan under a sky filled with such stars but block the memory so Kyran doesn’t see it. Thankfully, he seems to be lost in his own thoughts as we gallop through the night.
By the time we leave the forest, I’ve lost all track of time. By Braga’s labored breathing, I hazard we’ve been riding for hours. Kyran slows the horse to a casual walk as we ride past a few farm houses and approach a sizeable village.
The pale moonlight reveals a cluster of buildings around a town green. At the far end, two buildings stand opposite each other. Both have several torches to light their doorways. Above one swings a sign painted with a rooster and a barrel. Over the other, a wooden plank with the burned image of a mug and a fish. Several groups of men wander up and down the street, in various states of inebriation.
Stay close to me.
I let out a snort of laughter. Thanks for the warning.
Kyran guides Braga up to the tavern with the sign of the fish. He dismounts before helping me down. His hands remain around my waist as my feet touch the ground. We stand face-to-face.
“Do you trust me?”
I can’t help but remember all the memories he showed me in the hallway. I know he loves me.
He asks again, “Do you trust me?”
I nod.
He takes my hand, leading the way through the crowd of men loitering outside the pub. Fortunately, they’re all too drunk to try to see my hooded face. The tavern itself is one large room. Dark timbers line the walls and low ceiling. A haze of smoke hovers in the air from the large stone fireplace in the center of the room and some kind of tobacco. The patrons are fairly quiet. All are men, their heads are bowed close together. Only a few glance our direction as Kyran guides me around the back of the fireplace to the shadowed corner where a lone man sits with his chair leaning against the wall. As we approach, he rocks forward, the front two legs thump down the wooden floor. The room is too smoky, and his hood too low to clearly see his face, but my arms tingle with goose bumps.
I stop, heeding the warning sign. “Who is he?”
You said you trusted me.
I take a hesitant step toward the table. The man lifts his head.
My muscles tense as I immediately recognize Lord Braedon’s younger brother by his blue eyes and blond hair. “Caradoc?”
“Quiet,” Kyran growls.
Caradoc reaches his arm across the table. The two men shake hands.
My stomach is turning almost as fast as my thoughts are spinning. “How could you?”
Kyran pulls out a chair. “Please. I promise you, he is our friend.”
He’s Braedon’s brother. I would laugh at the absurdity if I wasn’t so afraid.
Kyran leans down to me. “Have you forgotten? I am Braedon’s brother as well.”
I glance between the two men who couldn’t look more different. Caradoc—pale, blond and thin. Kyran—tall, muscular and dark-skinned. I had forgotten they both shared the same link to my enemy.
Caradoc folds his hands and rests them on the table. “My half-brother and I have the same predicament. Both extra sons to a man who only has time for one heir.” He lowers his voice. “I told you before, true friends can be found among your enemies.”
“Caradoc has been the only Mystic to treat me as a person of value. He has ever been my ally.” Kyran pauses. “Will you listen to what he has to say?”
I try to swallow my fear. “I’ll listen.”
Kyran stands. “I will get us drinks while you talk.”
I watch him glide up to the bar before turning to his brother. “I said I’d listen. That doesn’t mean I’ll believe anything you tell me.”
Caradoc shrugs. “I have no reason to lie. In fact, my coming here puts me in great danger.”
“How?”
“What would Braedon or my father do to me if they found me talking with you?”
I can instantly think of a myriad of tortures they’d inflict on him. “What does Kyran want you to tell me?”
My betrothed returns with three mugs of ale. Caradoc takes a swig from his before he speaks again. “What do you know of the Commoner, Tegan?”
I trace the scrolled metal handle on my mug. “He helped me when I first came to Ayden. He risked his life to bring me to the Sanctuary.” My jaw tightens. “Braedon tortured him and threatened to kill him in order to get me to agree to sign the marriage contract.”
The Mystic nods. “What of his family?”
“His father died some time ago. He has a mother and a little brother, Galvyn.”
“Aye. He’s devoted to them. He is their sole means of income. Their only protector.”
I study Caradoc’s face. “So?”
His held tilts as his eyes fasten onto mine. “What do you believe he would be willing to do in order to keep them safe?”
Fear creeps into my stomach. “What has Braedon done?”
“They were his prisoners at Siddu Morrigan.”
For a moment I cling to hope. “Tegan’s not there. He’s been made a Lord. Released.”
“Aye, and so has his family.”
“What are you saying?”
Caradoc takes another drink. “All I know is that the boy came pleading to Braedon for his family’s release. He was thrown in prison with them until Lord Rafer arrived and spoke with Braedon and our father.” He glances furtively toward the doorway. “After that, Tegan was released but his family remained in the dungeons until he returned from the Lady Kennis’s wedding.”
“Where are they now?”
“At Tegan’s manor. In Wesfall. With my father, Lord Donagh, in residence as well.”
Ale sloshes over the rim of my mug as my hand trembles. “Why is he there?”
“To keep an eye on the boy. And prepare him for whatever plan Braedon wants to spring on you next.”
“Tegan would never betray me.”
“The fact that Braedon let him go means he already has.” Caradoc lowers his head as two newcomers step into the tavern. All conversation stops as the other patrons watch the men stride toward the bar. They wear leather arm guards and chest plates. One has a bow and quiver strapped across his back. The other, a dagger bound to his thigh. Both have long, scraggly beards and the restless eyes of men who have spent too long from the comforts of civilization.
The hairs on my arms stand up, a warning of approaching danger. I swear under my breath.
“What’s wrong?” Kyran asks.
I thrust my chin toward his brother. “He’s tricked you. He’s led the Mystics here.” I start to rise but Kyran presses his hand against my shoulder, forcing me to stay seated.
Caradoc’s face remains calm but I can hear the fear in his voice. “I swear, I was not followed. This is an unlucky coincidence.”
I pull my hood down further over my face, “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
One of the men has a scar running down the side of this cheek. He slams his fist on the bar and orders two ales. With the studied gaze of a soldier, he takes in his surroundings, his eyes land on our table. He elbows his partner and points toward us. “Caradoc?”
Caradoc’s hand slips beneath the table, followed by the distinct sound of some kind of metal being unsheathed. Kyran’s palm rests along the hilt of his sword as the two newcomers draw near our table. The light from the fireplace flashes along the metal of their own weapons as they walk back to our corner.
Scar man smiles. “What are you doing out this way?”
Caradoc lets out a long belch. “You know me. I can only stand so much talk about battle plans and war.” His speech is slurred. “I was hoping to buy a little flesh to warm my bed these long winter nights.”
Scar man and his friend turn their attention to Kyran and me, but it’s the friend who says, “Slavery’s been outlawed in the Common Lands.”
Caradoc makes a shushing noise. “Keep it down, will you Drytan? Besides,” he waves his hands in an exaggerated gesture. “I would not buy a slave . . . but I could always use another maid.”
Drytan chuckles. “Yer a crafty one.”
Scar man steps behind my chair. “Let’s see if she is worth the money.”
My betrothed stands in an instant, sword drawn. “No one touches her before I have been paid.”
Scar man glares. “I wasn’t going to touch, just have a look.” He eyes the tip of the blade, still pointing at his Adam’s apple.
Drytan swings his foot toward for Ky
ran’s knee but he evades being hit. The distraction gives Scar man an opportunity to pull a dagger from his waist and use it to knock away Kyran’s sword. An instant later, Drytan pulls Kyran’s hood down. Both Mystics take a step back.
Scar man grins. “The queen’s betrothed? Here in the Dell?”
Drytan’s laugh is dark and sinister. “And with another woman? I heard you had a way with the ladies, but I thought royalty might have tamed you.”
Kyran stands rigid. His thoughts pound into my head. Stay calm. No matter what they do to me, do nothing. Trust Caradoc. He will protect you.
Scar man’s smile fades as he glances between Kyran and his brother. I can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure out exactly what is going on. “Wait a moment.”
Caradoc ignores the request, jumping out of his chair to stick a blade in Drytan’s belly. He lifts the man off the floor as he yanks the knife upward. Drytan coughs and blood spurts from his mouth. Before Scar man can react, Kyran impales him on his sword. The Mystic’s lifeless body crumples to the floor.
“Epona, save us,” whispers Caradoc, looking toward the door.
I drag my eyes away from the bloodied corpses at my feet to see four more Mystic soldiers stride into the tavern.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Demon
Maybe luck is finally on our side. The four soldiers haven’t orientated themselves to their surroundings and the large stone fireplace in the middle of the room blocks the dead men from their view.
Unfortunately, the innkeeper chooses this moment to play policeman. “Hey! You two! There’s no killin’ in here.” He calls over his shoulder, “Adam, run and fetch the Constable.”
What do we do? I ask Kyran.
Follow along.
I look over my shoulder to see Caradoc’s arm around his brother’s neck, the knife blade at his throat.
“No need for the Constable, good sir. This man is my brother’s enemy. I lured him here to take him prisoner.” Caradoc shuffles forward with Kyran. The four Mystics stand by the door, hands reaching for their weapons.
“And what do I care about yer family squabbles?” the innkeeper asks. “Ye still broke the law.”
