by C. A. Szarek
“Aye. I’ll keep you that way.”
“As ordered.”
“Aye.” Alasdair offered a curt nod.
Lady Elissa said nothing, but unnamed emotion darted across her ethereal face. He couldn’t begin to guess what she was feeling, but her stare was still pointed. “You will not command me about.”
“When it comes to my duties, I shall do just that.”
Lady Elissa perched her hands on both hips and glared. “I am not a child.”
The lass before him sure as hell wasn’t a child.
She was a temptress.
Alasdair wanted to taste every defiant line of her mouth. Make her lips soft and pliant under his demand; make her open for him so their tongues would meet, rub, dance. Make her clutch at his shoulders and beg for more.
A chill shot down his spine and his gut clenched.
The desire wasn’t just unwanted.
It wasn’t him.
Alasdair rarely kissed the women he bedded. Had no need for such intimacy.
A rule he didn’t often break.
He swallowed hard and fought the urge to fidget. He was supposed to be angry at her for challenging him; threatening to disobey.
Not fantasizing about how she would taste.
Besides, he’d escorted her to meet the first of four possible men she would marry. Lady Elissa Durroc was more than forbidden.
Her fate had been decided by their king.
* * * *
Elissa glared. Of course the knight—her keeper—wouldn’t cooperate. “You have no right to address me as such.”
His frown melted into a scowl, and she saw the tremor in his shoulders as he leaned over her. Trying to scare her. Sir Alasdair was controlling himself, but anger rolled off him in waves.
Well, Elissa had news for him. She wasn’t scared. She was angry, too.
Just as much as him, if not more.
Magic pounded down her limbs. Elissa flexed her hands, kept them at her sides. She wasn’t afraid of hitting him, she was more worried she’d drown him. Her powers were boiling beneath the surface of her skin. Rolling over her in waves, gaining speed and heat, tempting her to give into the sensations and the fury. Let the water free. Fling it at him. She couldn’t give in. Didn’t want to hurt him.
How can I get away?
Desperation clawed at her, like the magic.
She needed to go to Castle Durroc.
“I’m going to my room,” she bit out. “There’s no reason for you to escort me. You’re dismissed.”
“Dismissed?” He roared the word.
“Aye.” She nodded, squared her shoulders and cursed the fact she had to look up at him. Elissa concentrated hard. To push her magic away, as well as mentally reach for an expression of disdain.
She wanted to maintain a countenance like she’d seen her cousin do when displeased. Even the fiercest warrior scrambled out of Queen Morghyn’s way when she was upset. Including King Nathal.
“It seems you’ve made my head ache.” Not a lie. Her powers were making her temples pound.
Sir Alasdair narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Nor did he move away. His gaze traveled down her body before settling on her face again.
Heat crept into her cheeks. A burn that had little to do with magic.
He was looking at her as if he’d devour her. She didn’t hate the idea, or the passion in his sapphire eyes. However, Elissa wouldn’t give him the pleasure of breaking their eye contact. No matter how uncomfortable he was making her.
I am not weak.
“You will obey me,” he rumbled. “And I shall take you to your rooms.”
“Why? To ensure I enter? What’d you think I’m going to do? Run away?” That was exactly what she planned. Saying it out loud might not be smart, but he’d probably never consider she’d do such a thing.
He didn’t answer her jibe.
“Alas, I need a word.”
They both jumped.
King Nathal had a smile on his face as he approached. Sir Murdoch Fraser was on his heels. Both men looked at her, then at her knight. The king’s face fell. “Is all well?”
“Aye,” Elissa said, praying the word was even. Her heart leapt and she fought the urge to swallow.
The king was the last person she wanted to see, despite her ire with Sir Alasdair. Her anger at King Nathal trumped what she felt regarding her knight. Betrayal tightened her chest even as she met his pale blue eyes.
Sir Alasdair bowed to the king, but she didn’t miss him clearing his throat. “Aye, all is well, Your Majesty. You need to speak with me?”
The king nodded. “Aye. Murdoch, please escort Lady Elissa wherever she wishes, and meet us in the duke’s solar.”
“Aye, Highness.” The big redheaded man nodded and offered Elissa his arm.
She didn’t want to argue, so she returned his smile and tucked her hand into his elbow, not bothering to look over her shoulder to watch King Nathal and her stubborn knight walk away.
“My lady?” the captain asked.
Elissa tried not to hedge at his side. “I was headed to my room to lie down.”
His brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, nay. Tired from the morning, is all.”
Sir Murdoch gave her an indulgent smile, and seemed to accept her words.
They walked in silence and when they reached her guest suite, Elissa bowed deeply to the captain. “Thank you, Sir Murdoch.”
“My lady...” He shifted in his boots, despite the smile he still wore.
The gesture was unnecessary because her rank was higher than his, but she needed him to hasten his getaway. Making him uncomfortable should do the trick.
She widened the curve of her mouth. “You’re so kind, Captain. Shall I see you later?” Her heart thundered as Elissa set her hand on the doorknob.
His huge shoulders loosened a bit. “Of course, my lady.” After a nod and another awkward pause, Sir Murdoch was gone.
“Thank the Blessed Spirit,” she whispered. She paused, fingers slipping from the handle. Elissa sucked in a breath and scanned the corridor.
No one was in sight—a boon. She darted around the corner.
The repeated click-clack of something hard tapping the stone floor caught her attention and she threw a glance over her shoulder. Two wolves, one much larger than the other, were headed down the corridor away from her. It should be a shock seeing beasts inside the castle, but there were several bonded animals living at Castle Aldern.
Ladies Cera and Aimil, as well as Mistress Ansley, had all been members of the King’s Riders—King Nathal’s royal messengers—before they’d married. They were all magically bonded to a wolf, as was common amongst the Riders.
Duties often included long solo rides, so the beasts were for protection as well as companionship. She was told it wasn’t limited to wolves. Any animal with intelligence and claws would work. Big cats were almost as common as wolves.
Bonding was a serious matter, though. Magic tied the parties together for life.
From the larger wolf’s white coat, she knew him to be Trikser, the duchess’ bondmate. Lady Cera had mentioned a litter of cubs had been birthed by Lady Aimil’s she-wolf, sired by Trikser.
The smaller one must be one of them.
Elissa’s heart kicked up when the smaller beast paused and sniffed the air, then glanced in her direction.
He was too far away to inspect, and she hoped the wolfling stayed far, but his fur was beautiful. Darker than his sire, he really couldn’t be considered white or completely gray. Several shades of steel graced his coat, becoming darker as it lay down his spine. His tail was the darkest part of him, a definite gray hue. She would call him silver in color.
Trikser stopped at the end of the corridor and wuffed. A sound low in his throat, but not menacing. Rather like a question, although he didn’t turn toward Elissa.
The cub looked at her again. His tail swished once. Then he faced his sire and darted to catch up. They quickly disap
peared around the corner. Her breathing didn’t return to normal until the wolves were out of sight.
What were they doing in the guest wing?
They probably had free reign of the castle. They were as much residents of Castle Aldern as the people who lived here.
Elissa reminded herself of her task, and snuck into what she knew to be a supply closet. She closed the door silently, blowing out the air she’d fortified herself with and leaning into the solid wood at her back.
A magic orb floated close to the ceiling. It brightened, lighting up the whole area.
She stared up at the circular bulb. It must’ve sensed her entry, as well as the room being shut off from the bright corridor. “Fascinating.”
Elissa had never seen the like—aside from the similar ones at Sir Roduch’s wedding—and sensed the young knighted mage, Lucan’s magical signature all over it. She prayed he didn’t have a connection to the magic he’d left to power the light. If he sensed her in a closet, he’d surely have questions about it.
She shivered and looked around. Shelves lined all the walls, filled with cleaning supplies, bed linens, bathing sheets and bedding materials, baskets with soaps in them, and even a shelf with nothing but decorations.
Elissa swallowed. She’d been hoping for some clothing. Couldn’t go to the main stores of the castle. There’d be too many questions. If she’d needed something, surely a servant would’ve fetched it. She could hear them saying, “My lady, you but only had to ask.” Then they’d shoo her away from an area she had no business being in.
Yet, she couldn’t request breeches and a tunic—there’d be too many queries about that, as well.
Damn the king for confining her. Damn her knight for agreeing…and trapping her inside.
Of course, she could gather why from her eavesdropping excursion…couldn’t she?
No.
What did her parents’ murder have to do with her?
It’d been a long time ago….over twenty turns. The only home she remembered was Castle Rowan.
Had they been killed at Castle Durroc? Somewhere else?
Somehow she’d survived. Or had she not been there?
What else hadn’t Elissa been able to discern?
“A whole hell of a lot.” Her cheeks burned. She’s spoken a curse word.
Her first. Ever.
She rolled her eyes at herself and pushed off the door. Again, Elissa scanned the racks before her. There was a small trunk on the bottom shelf to her far right. It was next to a fluffy folded sleeping fur that wasn’t too different from the one on her bed.
Kneeling, she reached for the handle on the side of the small chest and pulled. It was heavier than expected. Her grip slipped and the trunk slid to the stone floor with a smack and thud that resounded in her ears.
Elissa froze. Her heart took off, stealing her breath as it bounced off her ribcage.
Why hadn’t she thought to bar the door?
“Calm. Down.” She tried to stave off a magical reaction. Her powers danced over her shoulders and down her arms. “No one heard. No one has come running. You’re fine.” Her whisper became more frantic with every word, but she repeated the phrases in her head, too, and it helped. A little.
Cursing herself—she was becoming a regular foul-mouthed lass—she straightened the fallen chest with shaky hands. Elissa failed to control the tremors even as she reached to open it.
The Blessed Spirit had answered her silent plea. Garments sat in two neat piles, covering the whole interior of the trunk and filling it to the brim.
It shouldn’t be difficult to find something to fit me.
Guilt nudged her. She’d never stolen a thing in her life, let alone clothing that was poorer in quality than most of her gowns.
Stop. It’s not stealing. It’s borrowing.
The feeling didn’t dissipate.
Sneaking out only made sense if she couldn’t be easily recognized, right?
She needed to get away from Sir Alasdair especially. Time was of the essence.
Elissa had no idea how long the king would keep him. He wouldn’t likely let her “sleep”—despite being the cause of her aching head. She had no desire to continue their discussion.
“That is, unless—”
Nay.
There was no way the king would change his mind if what Sir Alasdair had said was true. King Nathal wouldn’t let her leave the castle grounds. He was a stubborn man, and when a decision was made, it was just that. Firm. Unchangeable.
Besides, her knight was angry with her. He probably wouldn’t even appeal to King Nathal. Not with how they’d left things.
I have to go on my own.
Guilt gave a second bite when she contemplated Sir Alasdair.
Would he have consequences if she was able to sneak away from him and the castle?
I don’t care.
Liar.
She sighed.
If I’m quick no one will know. That’s it. Quick.
Elissa had to go and return before anyone could find her missing. It would work.
It has to.
She had every right to see her former home. It was hers, after all. Even a part of her dowry. The king had assured her of that.
Elissa received gold for her personal coffers annually from the produce that was still farmed on her land. Had her own money; would receive it in full upon her marriage.
“How will I get out of here?” She’d need her horse, but how could she get the gray mare without questions arising? Especially if she was minus her guard.
Am I foolish to try this?
“Nay.”
Her rights were not a lost cause. She wouldn’t allow them to be.
She’d figure out how to get to Castle Durroc. Elissa wasn’t a prisoner here—as her knight had so aptly put it. She could move around freely—and she would.
“But, first things, first.” She dug into the chest of clothing.
Chapter Eleven
Dismissed.
The word had boiled his blood as much as her regal expression. Her pretty face had shouted ‘I’m better than you.’
He’d wanted to shake her. Demand her justification for talking to him like that.
Alasdair stalked away from Lord Aldern’s solar after his meeting with King Nathal, Leargan, an assortment of mages, Captain Murdoch, and the Dukes of Greenwald and Tarvis. The bright warm room had been packed to discomfort. The meeting had been a waste of time—Lucan and the twin mages’ formal account of their visit to the Greenwald murder site. Information Alasdair had already known, and nothing new had been discovered.
He’d lost his temper with Lady Elissa. Something that didn’t often happen, especially with a noble mistress. But…
Dismissed.
The offending word bounced around in his head.
Coming from her…it’d been…a shock. Since they’d met, the lass had treated him as an equal, even when she’d met her first suitor.
Rationally he knew why it’d bothered him. He didn’t want to admit hurt—even to himself. But his chest felt heavy, carrying an ache he couldn’t deny.
Alasdair had flashed back to being ten turns old. In his father’s household.
He’d always been looked at with disdain, even by the man himself. An embarrassment. The regretful result of a tryst.
Unwanted memories of his father teased…the man barely looking up after he’d set down a trencher of food on his desk.
No ‘Thank you, son.’ Maybe an order to get more wine, or shine his boots.
He’d been too small to manage armor or laundry, but in all other things, Alasdair had been his father’s man—or lad—servant.
Lord Henrik Gerard had recognized their blood tie. Everyone in the household had known he’d sired Alasdair, but the position offered him nothing more. He’d not been legally acknowledged, nor did he have the man’s surname.
The only benefit had been having his own room. It wasn’t fancy—a converted closet that consisted of a small bed and
a trunk.
It’d been to Alasdair’s detriment at any rate, because the other servants treated him poorly—seeing him as the favored one when it couldn’t have been further from the truth.
The housekeeper especially had made his young life a living hell. She’d dragged him around by his ears and beat him when his father was away. He’d always had to eat last, after all the adult servants and their children. Left with scraps—or worse. There’d been many a night he’d gone to bed with an empty, burning stomach. His father had trusted he’d been well cared for by the wench and had never once—at least that Alasdair had seen—ventured into his own kitchens.
When Lord Gerard had perished, it’d almost been a relief to Alasdair. He’d been kicked out. King Nathal had saved him. Given him a purpose. A life. He’d never looked back, and wasn’t about to start, no matter what his little charge said.
Alasdair still shouldn’t have spoken to Lady Elissa as he had. He sighed. He owed her an apology. Had used a tone he wouldn’t even have implemented if scolding one of the lads he trained. It’d been uncalled for.
Rude.
Un-knight-like.
Guilt swirled in his stomach. He might as well make it up to her now, so the rest of the day would be pleasant.
If she was still in possession of her cross disposition, she’d likely question him about meeting with the king. Of course, all he could tell her was the king and his retinue would depart for Terraquist in the morning, leaving her in his capable hands.
He couldn’t tell her that her family had been murdered, or that even now little was known of the evil responsible. He couldn’t tell her about the other murders, the three lasses and their families. He couldn’t tell her someone was after her, likely coveting her magic.
Alasdair couldn’t tell her that the trip to the home of the murdered Greenwald family had failed to find anything they didn’t already know, despite combined strong magic.
Now that he’d seen her use her powers with his own eyes, he was in awe of more than her beauty. Alasdair could understand why someone would risk horrible things to get at Lady Elissa.
He just wished they knew more.
Helplessness wasn’t something he was fond of.
All he could do was fulfill his duties.
