by Terry Spear
He wasn’t sure what his mother might decree concerning Micala, but Ritasia? She’d be locked in her chamber under guard at once.
***
After stalking as fast as he could through the dark forest toward the keep where Serena was locked up, Niall finally saw the clearing around the massive stone castle jutting out on a high grassy cliff above the ocean.
Sea birds and the prevalent osprey that were hunting for fish soared high above, their calls carried on the salty breeze. Niall headed for the gates, surprised to see them still open at this late hour and even more astonished that he was allowed to enter the outer bailey without any soldier or guard stopping and questioning him.
Terra cotta stone walls stretched up maybe eighty feet while the towers at each corner of the wall walk were another forty, topped with gold cones that he imagined would nearly blind the viewer when the sun reflected off them on a clear day. The rustic castle keep itself, covered in green moss on the ocean side, sat squarely in the center of the inner bailey. It was surrounded by a second lower stone wall of fifty feet or so high. Beyond that, the higher outer walls featured two gates, the servant and merchant gate in the back and the front gates for more important personages to use.
Flickering torchlight illuminated some areas, leaving others in virtual darkness.
Guards walked the wall walk on top of the outer fortifications while Mabara, who were not royalty, put away their tools of the trade for the night.
Laughter peeled out in the nearby stables as Niall still expected someone to question what he was doing here. But no one did, which made him more ill–at–ease than if someone had asked who he was and what his business was.
The front of the keep loomed before him, but Magdana had said he needed to go south around the back side of the castle where the guards would not see him. He thought that odd also as the guards who guarded from the wall walk would traverse the entire wall, which would mean they would come around the back side of the keep eventually also.
Although he wished he could march straight inside, or at least try, and ask to see the queen concerning Serena’s confinement, he could very well find himself in the Mabara dungeon. So instead, he took Magdana’s advice and made his way around to the back side of the castle. Men and women were entering what looked to be the servant’s entrance to the keep.
When the last person had left him in peace, he stepped back fifty paces and stared up at the tower where the princess must be imprisoned.
He remembered the faery tale of Rapunzel and how she let her hair down for the prince to climb up. The fae loved their faery tales. And he wished it could be so effortless.
No vines clung to the stone to make the climb easier, only tentative toe and finger holds on the moss—covered rough—edged blocks. Despite having walked so many miles through the forest tonight and the dragging weight of tiredness he felt from the potion, he had every intention of attempting her rescue at once.
Since lilacs were steeped in Magdana’s tea, which he understood could make a fae more tranquil, he thought she might have combined the flowers with something else that had made him feel much more invigorated.
He wanted to call out to Serena, to tell her he was coming for her, to see her lovely face, a smile, anything to encourage him that she was even still there. What if he made it to the tower window, and she wasn’t even in the tower any longer? Maybe released already? Or moved to a new location?
He had to be certain one way or another. He began the arduous climb, one finger hold just so, the toe of his boots following in slow procession. The climb took an hour, maybe more to reach the halfway point when Niall felt so tired, he wanted to rip the bricks from the wall of the keep and curse the night.
“Keep going, don’t stop,” he muttered to himself. If he let go and reappeared on the ground below, he would have to sleep and then have to start from the bottom all over again. The notion was unthinkable. But, Serena’s drug was working against him.
“Keep going, don’t give up now,” he chided himself again. He’d never been one to give up a challenge. This time, like any other, no matter how dragged out he felt, he wasn’t letting go.
And yet his mind—the tired part—was fighting with his sense of never giving up. He told himself it shouldn’t matter that she was locked away in the tower—that if it was anything like the Denkar tower for troublesome highborn prisoners, it would be comfortable, not at all like the Denkar dungeon.
He told himself that two months wasn’t all that long to have to suffer this sickness if he couldn’t reach her before he was caught. Yet no matter how much he told himself it was no big deal, he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her in confinement again—free spirit that she was.
“Toss down your golden hair, Princess,” he wanted to shout because he was going to rescue her if it killed him.
But after another hour, of resting and climbing and resting again, he was still only three quarters of the way to the top, his strength dwindling to nearly nothing.
He whispered Serena’s name as if calling to her reminded him how important his mission was. His fingers slipped and he swallowed a curse. Serena poked her head out of the window and said in a horrified, hushed voice, “Niall,” right before he fell.
***
Her heart nearly leaping out of her chest, Serena squashed a scream as she watched in horror as Niall fell from the tower wall. One minute he was clinging fiercely to the rock wall, the next, he was plummeting. She could do nothing but keep an eye on him, her eyes filling with tears as she leaned as far out the window as the bars would permit, praying to every god and goddess that she knew that he’d make it safely to the ground using his fae travel ability before it was too late.
Furious with herself again for having dosed him with the sleeping potion, she saw him vanish, and she gave a deep sigh of relief. He had stopped his fall. But where had he gone?
Then she saw him standing shakily on the ground, staring up at her with half—lidded eyes. “Serena,” he mouthed.
“Niall,” she said back, blinking back hot tears.
Oh how she wished she could take back what she’d done to him. She couldn’t believe he was trying to reach her at his peril. Just to free her? Well, and to get the potion to offset how he was feeling. But still, she was certain that Sir Reginald would never have made half the effort to get her free for any reason.
She tried to squeeze through the narrow bars, but Niall shook his head and called out to her this time, “No, I’m coming for you.”
She stared at him in awe. She’d never met anyone that determined.
But then he cast her a tired smile. “After I sleep for a while.” To her astonishment, he reclined on the ground and fell fast asleep.
She quickly examined the wall walk, concerned that even his words might have caught someone’s attention. Surely a guard would see him sleeping on the stone pavement. But none seemed to be patrolling the area or the wall walk on the south side of the tower. And no one had heard his calling to her, which should have alerted someone to at least investigate.
Which was more than unusual. The Mabara royal guards were never lax in their job.
She stood on the velvet cushioned bench underneath the window, viewing Niall, watching for any sign he was waking, until the effort of forcing her eyes to remain open became impossible. Exhausted, she sank onto the soft bench, intending just to close her eyes for a few minutes, then continue her vigil, but she drifted off to the realm of dreams instead.
***
Soaring above the blue waters, Serena flew with Niall and white-feathered seagulls, enjoying the freedom of flying so high in the darkening sky. Pink ribbons streaked across the fluffy clouds in the distance as the sun began its slow descent into the choppy water.
She could fly like this forever, though it didn’t occur to her how Niall could be up with her here like this. She had wings after all, when he did not.
He smiled at her, the look so loving she felt a flush of heat fill every pore.
She smiled back at him, wishing the flight could last forever and never end.
But something pulled at her thoughts…a noise that had nothing to do with soaring above the Gulf. A grunt. A sound of something scratching against stone. And all of a sudden, she felt herself falling, falling, falling back to earth in a sudden rush.
Niall! Where was Niall?
Serena rolled and fell onto a stone floor and instantly awoke. She sat up, trying to figure out where she was and realized she was in the tower.
Niall! She instantly recalled the precarious position he could be in. Her heartbeat quickening, she jumped up on the bench and peered out through the iron bars. He was making the climb again, determination in his every foot and hand placement and in the firm expression he wore. She examined him with fresh eyes. He was a wonder—a real hero, appearing unconcerned about whether he would get caught and be thrown into the Mabara dungeon or not. He had only one thought in mind, reach her place of imprisonment.
Then she narrowed her eyes. He hadn’t bribed the guards to look the other way, had he? Not that she would fault him for it, and would in fact applaud his ingenuity, but the guards would have to be taken to task if it was so.
After another hour of watching Niall and wishing to the goddess that she could aid him in some way, he was getting so close she thought he might make it. The black sky was already beginning to turn fireball red, warning the sun was on the rise. If he could free her from the tower soon, they could use fae travel to alight somewhere safe from here.
He was panting and dribbles of sweat beaded his forehead, but he didn’t stop. When he finally grabbed hold of the iron bars that confined her, she thanked the goddess, wishing she could drag Niall inside, and gave another soft prayer of thanks.
“Serena,” he said, hoarsely, winded, holding onto the bars for dear life.
She hurried to bring him some ale to drink and helped him to sip it while he held onto the bars.
He actually smiled at her, looking grateful and not at all annoyed with what he’d had to go through to reach her. “I imagine not too many fae would risk rescuing you from the tower after your mother—I assume—locked you here.”
Serena wiped his brow with her silk sleeve and shook her head. “None would. You either are very brave or—”
“Desperate,” he admitted with a dark look.
“Aye,” she agreed, feeling guilty about his condition all over again. “How will you get me beyond the bars?”
He slipped out his knife. “The bars and the mortar surrounding them are very old. Ancient, I imagine.” With one arm slung around a bar and his feet propped on a narrow ledge, he dug at the mortar surrounding one of the blocks holding the rods in place.
His face red and his breathing labored, he looked ready to collapse at any moment. But he continued to persevere, although she offered to take a turn. “The blade is very sharp,” he warned and wouldn’t let her touch it.
She attempted not to show how annoyed she was with him that he would not allow her to help. She would not cut herself, and she didn’t want to risk losing him again.
Periodically, he would pause, and he would jiggle the bar. Serena did also as he chipped away at the mortar. It was another full hour before she saw it give and her heart jumped a little skip and dance.
His face brightened, and he yanked hard. She shoved, too, and he nearly fell from his tentative perch.
She grabbed his sleeve, although he’d already seized the cemented bars and held tight.
Then he wrenched at the bar again, and it pulled free and tilted off to the side. He frowned at the narrow opening. “Can you squeeze through?”
“Of course.” No matter how difficult it would be, she would do it, not risking that he’d have to work on a second bar forever also.
Even at that, she had to work at it for several minutes, sure she was bruising herself as she attempted to make her way through the narrow opening as he held onto the two bars nearest her. But she was going to do this no matter what, not willing to force him to have to work on a second bar. He was too tired, and he’d never last.
She squeezed and wiggled and pulled and pushed, expelling her breath to try and make herself thinner. Glad she hadn’t eaten earlier now, she finally managed to shove through the tight opening. With one hand on a bar, she threw herself at Niall with so much enthusiasm, as she grabbed hold of him, she knocked him loose of the bars he was clinging to.
Just as the door to her chamber squeaked open.
“Princess!” her mother’s advisor shouted from within the chamber, apparently seeing her leap from the window. Either her mother had decided Serena could attend the morning meal, or she was releasing her from confinement.
It was too late for either.
***
At the Renaissance fair, Ritasia woke as she heard the first of the human merchants begin to arrive at the fair an hour before it opened. Even though Deveron hadn’t joined her, she was determined to learn why Serena came here. Was it to see a lover?
If so, maybe he would be intrigued with a lion fae princess instead of the Mabara one, and then Serena would be angry enough to leave him well enough alone and marry her intended, Micala.
Ritasia slipped off the blue hammock where she’d slept the night and sauntered on the woodland path, crossed the wooden footbridge over the creek, and headed for the knights’ arena. Not that she expected the knights to arrive this early. Later, maybe, when their first joust would be held.
Or maybe they practiced out back for a while in the morning.
“Hey, you!” a man shouted from behind her, his voice directed at her. She ignored the man. He could be shouting to anyone. Even though no one was walking in her direction. Had someone suspected she had trespassed by sleeping here all night? That she did not have a ticket to allow her to enter the fair when it wasn’t even open to the public yet?
She certainly didn’t appreciate the tone of voice he used with her, if his comment was directed toward her.
The long skirts and a vest of velvet, a silken blouse with full sleeves, and knee high suede boots she wore made her appear as though she fit in, so she could have been working at the fair, newly arrived.
But when a hand roughly grabbed her arm, detaining her, she gasped, and she was ready to whip around and take him to task.
What startled her even more was when he spoke, gruffly saying, “Don’t ignore me, dark fae.”
Chapter 9
Princess Ritasia whipped around to see who had so rudely accosted her at the fair, but worse than that, that he realized she was a dark fae.
“Dragon fae,” she said under her breath, in a derogatory way as soon as she saw the bulky man dressed as a monk. He gave her an appreciative smile. A brown woolen cowl cloaked his face partially in shadows, but his blue eyes sparkled with intrigue. She arched a brow, turned to jerk her arm away, but the man held fast.
“If you don’t let go of me this instant,” she said, her voice low with threat, “I promise you’ll regret it.”
He smiled as if he knew something she didn’t. She intended to fae transport him and deposit him in the Denkar dungeon, and then return to the fair. But the monk quickly slipped a steel bracelet on her wrist and manacled it to the other.
“No fae travel, princess,” he said, with a smug smile affixed to his face, dark eyes gazing at her with contempt.
She scowled back at him, the beast, horrified and angry that he would hold her hostage in this way. So he knew she was a lion fae, but did he realize she truly was the princess, or was he mocking her?
She tilted her chin up. “Since I’m the princess, it seems you would be careful how you handle me.”
He motioned to people dressed in velvet and brocade gowns who were filling up the fairgrounds before it opened. “Dozens of princesses are here and about. King Henry and his wife are the only ones we need concern ourselves with,” he said coolly.
She snorted. “Human play actors.” But it appeared as if the pretend monk didn’t realiz
e that she truly was the Denkar princess. “What do you plan to do with me?”
“When Sir Reginald arrives, he will decide. This is the dragon fae’s territory and here, he’s in charge. You have no business being here. Perhaps a real stay in our dungeon will suit you.”
At the dragon fae castle of Crislis? Surely not here at this place. They couldn’t have a mock dungeon, could they?
“Is the knight the one who will joust?” she asked, wondering if he was the one Serena was interested in. It couldn’t be this guy.
“Aye.”
“I must see this great knight and his jousting prowess.”
“He loses.”
She arched her brows in real surprise. “Really? A dragon fae who purposefully loses in front of a bunch of humans?”
“He prefers being the evil Black Knight.”
“I see.” Ritasia didn’t really. Why would any fae lose the battle on purpose to entertain humans? The humans were meant to amuse the fae.
“When will he be here? I do not wish to be shackled to you for the rest of the day.”
“In a couple of hours. He always has a late night of it. His reputation with the ladies must be maintained.”
She shook her head. How was she to pretend interest in such a man?
The monk dragged her to a clothing shop full of ornately embroidered corsets and lace—up bustiers and skirts of velvet or cotton trimmed in gold. “You would look good in one of these sexy red bustiers,” he said, motioning to her cleavage.
She gave him a quick tug and yanked him out of the shop.
“Here you’re supposed to be a monk!” She pulled him so hard out of the place that she wasn’t looking where she was going and ran smack dab into a knight dressed all in black—the silver fire–breathing dragon sparkling on his black tunic—the Black Knight, his blond hair in a braid down his back. A dragon fae.
She’d barely caught her breath, staring up into the man’s pale narrowed eyes, his jaw twitching with tension before he spoke, “What do we have here, Tuttle?”
