Captive

by A. D. Robertson

  It would take time to persuade Tristan that leaving was their only option. The idea of extending her stay at Castle Tierney didn’t appeal to Sarah, but she didn’t see another way forward.

  Seamus might at least give Tristan a nudge in the right direction.

  Sarah knew there was another option: she could tell Tristan about the bodies in the dungeon, about the macabre feasts that Lana and Owen indulged in unbeknownst to their master.

  That revelation would make Tristan revile his life in the castle even more, but Sarah was reluctant to play that winning card. Though she preferred to tell herself that she kept this secret because it would devastate Tristan to know the torment of innocents that had been taking place in his home, Sarah knew that protecting him from that knowledge was only part of her hesitation.

  I want him to choose me.

  Sarah sank deeper into the tub, so only her eyes and forehead cleared the water’s surface, as if to hide from the embarrassing admission.

  How ridiculous, to stop myself from telling Tristan something that could be the key to convincing him to leave. For what? Vanity?

  It was selfish and reckless, and Sarah could afford to be neither.

  As she climbed out of the tub, dripping water onto the marble floor, Sarah resolved to tell Tristan everything. She toweled herself off and found an array of robes hanging along the wall. She’d just slipped the cotton robe on when she whirled around, the back of her neck prickling.

  Out of the corner of her eye Sarah had caught a movement, the flickering of a shadow. Or so she thought. Scanning the room, Sarah couldn’t see anything, though her vision was somewhat obscured by thick clouds of steam. Nor did she hear any sounds of movement.

  After waiting another few minutes to be certain she was alone in the room, Sarah dismissed the sensation and walked from the steam-filled room to the broad chamber that held the swimming pool.

  Sarah pulled up short, staring at the man who stood alongside the pool. He was very tall—lean but broad-shouldered. His dark hair was combed back from his olive-skinned face and its sharp, angular features. But it was his eyes that stopped Sarah’s breath. They were silver.

  “I thought I’d give you some privacy,” the man told her. His voice was cold and smooth and very low, like a thin sheet of ice over deep waters. “I’d hate for you to feel exposed upon our first meeting.”

  It didn’t matter that Sarah pulled her robe tighter around her body. She felt horribly vulnerable. Every fiber of her being screamed that she was in danger.

  “Tristan so rarely has guests that I haven’t invited to the castle myself,” the man continued. “When Lana told me of your . . . stay, I came at once.”

  “You’re Bosque Mar.” The lingering heat of the baths seeped from Sarah’s skin.

  Tristan’s affront to the succubus had been too much for her to bear and she’d called the Harbinger back to Castle Tierney.

  Oh God. Sarah went rigid because her body threatened to quake with terror. She desperately fought to control her panic.

  “And you’re a Searcher,” Bosque replied. “Forgive me for being surprised to find you luxuriating in Tristan’s home, rather than wearing manacles.”

  “There were manacles,” Sarah said, finding courage in a tart response. “At first.”

  Bosque laughed. “Ah, yes. Lana informed me of the evolution of your status here. I’m intrigued. Of course, I have my reservations as well.”

  “Of course.” Sarah glanced around the room. Bosque stood between her and the door.

  Following her gaze, Bosque smiled slowly. “So rude.”

  Sarah didn’t see him move or hear him speak, but she sensed movement behind her, accompanied by a squelching sound. She turned just in time to throw her arms out, but the huge tentacle had strength a hundred times her own. Black and stinking of brine, the snakelike appendage continued to unwind itself from one of the columns that framed the pool. The tentacle coiled around Sarah’s body, constricting just enough to make breathing painful but not impossible.

  “I merely ask for a brief conversation,” Bosque told her. “And I merit your attention.”

  “Go to hell.” Sarah struggled against the tentacle, and it squeezed tighter until she screamed.

  “You’ll find that provoking me earns you only pain.” Bosque strolled toward Sarah, his gaze sweeping up and down her body. “I suppose you’re attractive enough, but that hardly explains Tristan’s wayward attachment to you. You do realize I cannot allow his dalliance to continue; as much as I’d like to indulge my ward, it will only cause him harm in the future.”

  “So are you going to have your tentacle squeeze me into jelly or are we still getting to know each other?” Taunting Bosque was the only thing keeping Sarah’s fear from overwhelming her.

  Bosque shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I have no intention of killing you. That is Tristan’s work. I came to find you only out of curiosity.”

  Sarah wanted to scream, Tristan would never hurt me. But Bosque’s confident smile and easy manner sent chills spiraling through Sarah’s veins.

  Sensing her doubt, Bosque’s smile broadened. “It was a pleasure.”

  And suddenly he was gone and Sarah lay in a heap on the cold floor. The tentacle that held her was once again only a carving around the column. For a moment, Sarah let herself believe she’d imagined it all—a hallucination born of stress and exhaustion. But when she crawled to her feet, the pain in her ribs made Sarah gasp. Opening her robe, Sarah looked down to see the blue and purple marbling of bruises.

  She sank back to the floor, the trembling in her limbs rendering her unable to stay upright.

  I have no intention of killing you. That is Tristan’s work.

  Sarah huddled on the floor, growing colder by the minute but feeling too weak to move. He won’t hurt me. Not after everything.

  She closed her eyes and tried to conjure Tristan’s face and the love she’d seen in his eyes. But in the darkness of her mind, the only eyes Sarah remembered were silver.

  25

  TRISTAN HAD JUST emerged from his room, dressed and ready to seek out Seamus, when the wolf found him first.

  “We need to talk,” Seamus said.

  Tristan nodded. “Where?”

  “Ride out to the edge of the eastern wood and tether Ares there,” Seamus replied. “Walk along the forest line toward the coast. I’ll meet you.”

  Without another word Seamus shifted form and slunk away. Tristan had never seen the wolf so agitated, and that couldn’t be a good sign. He wasted no time getting to the stables and taking Ares out of the castle grounds. The stallion sensed Tristan’s restlessness and responded in kind, making a wild dash to the eastern side of the island. Ares bucked and snorted his disapproval when Tristan reined him in at the edge of the woods, making it clear that the horse had a mind to take a run around the whole of the island.

  “In a bit.” Tristan patted Ares’s neck, slowing the stallion to a walk to cool him down before they stopped.

  Taking Ares just inside the line of trees, Tristan dismounted and unbridled his horse. He replaced the bridle with a halter and used a lead line to tie Ares onto a low-hanging branch. While Ares contented himself with snuffling out sweet spring shoots from the undergrowth, Tristan went in search of Seamus.

  Tristan stayed close to the forest’s edge as the wolf had instructed, and after he had walked a quarter of an hour, he heard Seamus call from deeper within the woods. He found the wolf sitting atop a boulder in a small forest glen. When Tristan approached, Seamus jumped down from the giant rock and walked over to meet him.

  “Has something happened?” Tristan asked.

  “I’m of a mind to ask you the same thing, lad,” Seamus replied. “But yes, I overheard a conversation between Lana and Owen.”

  Tristan’s mood darkened in
stantly. “And?”

  “Lana wants to summon Bosque to the castle,” Seamus growled. “Owen was trying to talk her out of it. Protocol and such.”

  “Yes,” Tristan said. “If she summons Bosque without my consent, she’s circumventing my authority.”

  “I think she’d like nothing more at the moment.” Seamus rolled his head from side to side, cracking his neck loudly. “You’ve managed to get quite the rise out of her.”

  “She had no right to—” Tristan stopped himself. He didn’t want to waste energy on Lana’s behavior.

  “It’s not about what Lana thinks she’s entitled to,” Seamus told Tristan. “Her jealousy is simply a front because she senses what’s really going on.”

  Tristan asked warily, “What do you mean?”

  Seamus gave him a long look.

  “I’m in love with Sarah,” Tristan said. It was strange to say it out loud, frightening even.

  “Of course you are. You’d be a fool if you weren’t.” Seamus’s growl was followed by a sigh. “But if Lana goes through with her plan, which she will, then when Bosque returns, he’ll make you kill Sarah. No—he’ll more likely let Lana kill her and make you watch. You must know that.”

  Tristan’s fists clenched, but he nodded. “What can I do?”

  “There’s only one thing you can do. You can run.” Seamus turned his gaze toward the sound of crashing waves in the distance. “Go to her people. They’re the only ones who might be able to hide you away.”

  “How can we run?” Tristan asked. “I’m always watched.”

  Seamus grinned at Tristan, revealing a wolf’s sharp canines. “Well, first you’ll need a distraction.”

  Tristan laughed at the wolf’s eager expression. “Why am I inclined to believe you’ve thought about this before?”

  “I’ve just been itching for a real fight.” Seamus shrugged. “All the wolves have.”

  “You think the whole pack will side with us?” Tristan asked with surprise.

  Seamus paused, scratching at his beard. “Not all, but most. Even those not overly fond of you have a sense of loyalty to me. Even if they don’t aid us, they won’t interfere, either.”

  “I’ve done a piss-poor job of ruling this place, haven’t I?” Tristan rubbed his temples, suddenly bone weary.

  “You arrived here a boy and never became a tyrant.” Seamus clapped Tristan on the shoulder. “That’s a feat most Keepers I’ve known can’t manage.”

  “That’s not the most flattering measure of success,” Tristan said wryly.

  “It’s not the worst, either,” Seamus said. “The truth is you’ve never been given the chance to find out who you are—you’ve only been told. But I’d wager that you’ll be a good man once you’re free of this place.”

  Tristan looked closely at Seamus and frowned. “But if you help us escape, what will happen to you and the other Guardians?”

  “It depends on how the fight goes down,” Seamus told him. “If it’s staged as a Searcher attack, we might be able to give you the time you need to run without giving our involvement away. If that doesn’t work . . . well, I’d rather go down fighting.”

  “You’d take that risk for me?” Tristan murmured.

  “That question can only be answered with acts,” Seamus said. “Not words.”

  Tristan crouched on the forest floor and bowed his head. “Your courage only makes my cowardice more shameful.”

  “You’ve never been a coward, Tristan.” Seamus paced alongside the Keeper.

  “You might not say that if you knew what I’m feeling,” Tristan replied.

  “Why don’t you tell me and we’ll find out,” Seamus said.

  Tristan forced himself to stand up. He might feel like a cowering child, but he at least could act like a man. “I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?” Seamus asked.

  “Of life,” Tristan said, then laughed at the absurdity. “Of her. Of happiness.” Tristan swept his hand through the air. “This is all I’ve known. What if I go with her only to prove that I’m worthless without all the trappings and protections Bosque has always provided?”

  Seamus stood face-to-face with Tristan. “You’re afraid. But you want to go nonetheless?”

  “I can’t lose her,” Tristan said. “That’s all that matters. Wherever she goes, I’ll go.”

  “A true coward never admits fear,” Seamus said. “Recognizing fear is the only way to overcome it. You’ll be fine, lad.”

  “Thanks . . . I think.” Tristan smiled at the wolf.

  Seamus returned Tristan’s smile. “Don’t worry about what happens outside the island until you’ve managed to find a way off it. The Guardians can help you fight, but the leaving is another matter.”

  “I know,” Tristan told him. “I don’t know how any of this can possibly work, but she’s determined that it will.”

  “Quite a remarkable lass you’ve found.” Seamus chuckled.

  “I know,” Tristan replied. “Believe me. I know.”

  As he rode back to the castle, Tristan was overwhelmed by a strange emotion that he soon realized was contentment.

  He laughed aloud, prompting a snort of suspicion from Ares.

  “Don’t worry, lad.” Tristan leaned forward to pat the stallion’s neck. “I’m just surprised to be so happy, given that I’m about to run away from home.”

  That made Tristan laugh again, and Ares tossed his head, annoyed by his rider’s odd behavior.

  When they arrived at the stables, Tristan dismounted and led Ares toward the outbuilding that held the horses’ stalls. Without warning, Ares gave a high-pitched whistle and reared, almost tearing the reins out of Tristan’s hand.

  Tristan wheeled around to face the panicked stallion. “Whoa. Easy, lad. What’s the matter?”

  “Some animals find my presence unsettling.”

  The voice made Tristan’s heart seize up. Gripping the reins tight, Tristan turned to face Bosque. The tall man blocked the entrance to the building and he was holding a pitchfork. The sight was such a caricature of a devil lying in wait that Tristan could have laughed if not for his horror.

  “This is a surprise,” Tristan said, forcing a pleasant tone.

  Bosque returned his smile. “I’m sure it is. Lana sent for me.”

  “I figured as much.” Tristan’s mind was racing, scrambling for the right word or action to prevent impending disaster.

  “Have you also guessed why I’m here?” Bosque asked. His voice was soft as velvet, but Tristan knew that meant only bad things lay ahead.

  “My prisoner.” Better not to name her, Tristan thought. Better to project nonchalance, indifference.

  Tristan’s pulse bespoke his lack of indifference, barreling as it was through his limbs, making him dizzy as blood rushed to his head and heart.

  “Yes,” Bosque replied. “You have a Searcher in your house. I’ve met the girl. Quite feisty, isn’t she?”

  Tristan couldn’t stop himself from blanching, and Bosque tilted his head, regarding his ward curiously.

  “Tell me, Tristan,” Bosque said, “do you think it wise to give a Searcher free run of the castle?”

  “She’s being watched,” Tristan answered. “The Guardians—”

  “Yes, yes,” Bosque interrupted. “I suppose she is on a short leash. And what she’s done and seen here are of little concern to me.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Tristan stepped back to stroke Ares’s bowed neck. The stallion was blowing hard and stomping his feet.

  The poor creature is desperate to get away from Bosque.

  “What I am concerned about,” Bosque said, “is Lana’s assessment of your feelings for the Searcher.”

  “Lana is jealous because I’ve been fucking the other girl.” Tristan trie
d to make his tone as harsh as possible.

  You have to play this off as a petty thing.

  Bosque seemed to give Tristan’s assertion some consideration. After a few minutes, he said, “Lana is a creature of impulse, and she could very well be swayed by jealousy.”

  Holding Tristan’s gaze, Bosque continued, “But tell me, Tristan, what then are your plans for this Searcher?”

  “I hoped to gather information about the Searchers from her after she came to trust me.” Tristan drew a quick breath. “I’ve found seduction to be a rewarding form of entertainment.”

  With a chuckle, Bosque said, “I suppose that’s fair.”

  Tristan’s frenzied pulse began to ease. “You have nothing to worry about. I assure you.”

  Bosque nodded, drawing closer to Tristan. Ares jerked back on the reins and almost pulled Tristan off his feet.

  “Easy,” Tristan murmured to the horse, but kept his eyes on Bosque.

  “I want to believe you, Tristan,” Bosque said, walking alongside Ares. “But I worry that perhaps I’ve been too lax in my attention to you.”

  “You’ve given me everything I could have ever wanted,” Tristan said quickly. “I’m indebted to you.”

  “Yes,” Bosque said. “You are. And you’ll pay that debt by continuing the legacy of your grandmother Eira.”

  “I intend to.” Tristan watched Bosque walk in a slow circle around Ares. He worried that the stallion might strike at Bosque with his hooves, but Ares stood still, his entire body quivering with fright. Lather had formed on his neck and shoulders. Tristan had never seen the stallion in such a state.

  “Good.” Having made a full turn around them, Bosque paused in front of Tristan and Ares. “Because you’ve spoken the truth, Tristan. I have given you everything.”

  “I know.” Tristan had the sudden urge to flee.