by Sara Bell
Winthrop wasn't telling Gareth anything he didn't already know. “If you've spoken to Stiles then you know that Holden already alerted us to the presence of two traitors on the High Council."
"Unfortunately for you and your cause, Denmar's power reaches further into the Council than Holden of Stiles knew. Fifteen councilors currently sit at the High King's table. According to Denmar, at least eight of those are in league against Elwin.” Winthrop's voice fell, his tone grave. “'Tis an overthrow they're after."
Given the High King's reputation for being a fierce warrior, Gareth knew nothing short of killing Elwin could make him relinquish his throne. “We must alert the High King at once."
"I'm on my way to Banning as soon as we're done here, but I wanted you to know what was happening. Though I no longer aid Denmar's cause, it seems he has men enough ready to take up his cry, making him a serious threat."
Gareth shook his head. “We've depleted his forces and plundered his stores. ‘Twould be impossible for Denmar to come back against us at this point."
"Don't you believe it.” Winthrop snorted. “'Tis impossible for a man to shoot fire from his fingertips as well, or so they say. Guard your back, Gareth of Kray, and may The Creator keep you safe.” With no more farewell than that, Winthrop turned and took his leave.
Tristam came out to meet Gareth and Wycaster as they made their way back to camp. “Well? What did Winthrop want?"
"It seems Denmar's treachery reaches further than we thought.” Gareth repeated what Winthrop had said, unsurprised to see hot tongues of outrage flickering in Tristam's eyes.
"Damn Denmar to the Under Realms and back.” Tristam pounded his fist into his hand. “Is there no end to the man's cunning and deceit?"
Gareth didn't answer, knowing one wasn't expected. Instead he said, “The question now becomes, do we take Winthrop at his word when he says he's going to Banning to notify the High King, or do we send our own messenger to warn Elwin of the dissension in his ranks?"
"I'm not inclined to believe anything Winthrop says.” Tristam looked to Wycaster as the three of them resumed walking back to the soldiers. “What say you? Living at Kray, you have more knowledge of Winthrop than either one of us."
"By all accounts Winthrop is an honorable man.” Wycaster hesitated. “Given the hatred he bears for King Alric, I'm loath to trust him, but I'd say we have little choice at this point. We can't go to the High King without proof."
Tristam sighed. “Then there's nothing to be done but wait and see whether or not Winthrop will keep his word.” As they came upon the slight rise where their men awaited them, he said, “What say you we quit this place and head on to Drystan?” He grinned. “Not to be lewd, but I fear I've an itch that only my wife can scratch.” He looked to Wycaster. “I dare say there's a spare wench or two round and about the castle proper who'd be only too glad to share with you their ... charms."
To Gareth's astonishment, Wycaster's face actually turned crimson with a full blush.
Gareth couldn't help it. The sight of steadfast Wycaster blushing like a spring maid was too much, and he let loose with a full belly laugh.
Wycaster crossed his arms over his chest and sniffed. “'Tis glad I am to know my discomfort brings you such mirth."
Gareth clapped him on the back, a wide grin splitting his face. “'Tis the first laugh I've had in days, and grateful for it I am.” He straightened. “Now let us do as Tristam says and be on our way. There is only one man who can calm the disquiet shrouding my heart. I fear I shall not rest easy ere I see him."
* * * *
Alric found Maris in the nursery, tears rolling down her pale cheeks as she paced back and forth across the floor whilst patting the wailing babe in her arms. As soon as Alric stepped into the room, Maris caught sight of him and her pained features creased with relief.
"Thank The Creator you're here, though I was beginning to fear you'd never come. It seems like ages since I sent the nurse to fetch you.” Maris stopped patting long to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks. “I've been trying for nigh on an hour to get her to sleep with no success.” She crossed to where Alric was standing and handed him the crying infant. “You're the only one who can calm her when she gets like this."
"Only because you're so nervous Calla can feel it.” Alric tucked the red-faced little girl into the crook of his arm. “There, now.” He rubbed her tense belly through the swaddling, smiling when the babe hiccupped. Beside them, Maris hovered like a wild-eyed hawk.
"Is she all right?” Maris clasped her hands to her chest and frowned. “Should I fetch the healer?"
"'Tis only an upset stomach, Maris.” Alric steadied the squirming bundle and then made his way to the chair by the window. He cast Maris a patient smile and sat down. “All babes get them.” He lifted little Calla onto his shoulder and rubbed her wee back. “Calla's going to be fine, but in truth, ‘tis you I'm worried about. You haven't stopped fretting since the moment Calla was born."
"How can I not? You can see for yourself how small she is.” Maris came to stand by Alric's chair, staring down at the little girl as if she were the most precious thing ever to draw breath. “The world is such a vast, dangerous place.” Her fingers brushed the dark down atop the babe's head. “What kind of mother would I be were I not to yearn for my daughter's safety?"
"There's a difference in wanting to keep Calla safe and making yourself sick with worry each time she cries.” Alric looked up to study Maris's drawn face. “When last did you sleep?"
"Yesterday.” She paused, thinking. “The day before, perhaps?” Maris straightened with a sigh. “With all honesty, I don't remember. Between Calla's crying all the time and Tristam's absence...” She trailed off, her gaze settling on the darkened window. “Seven months, Alric. Seven months our husbands have been gone with nary a word.” She twisted her fingers into the shimmering fabric of her gown, wringing the material with absentminded malice. “We should have heard something by now."
Alric wanted to reassure her, but his own fears choked down any comfort he might have offered. Gareth's beloved face flashed into his mind, and he swallowed hard against both a wave of longing and a wash of fear that something awful had indeed happened.
Without realizing it Alric tensed, causing Calla to shriek in protest. He brought the babe again to the curve of his arm and rocked her gently back and forth. “Sorry, love.” He smoothed his free hand over her now-relaxed belly and smiled when Calla ceased crying and let out a sleepy yawn.
"You see, Maris? Calla is fine, and I'm willing to wager Tristam is as well.” Alric threw as much conviction as he could muster into the last statement, deciding at that moment to stay hopeful until he was given reason not to be.
Maris looked away from the window then, her eyes settling on her daughter. “All is truly well, you think?"
"Yes, I do.” Alric continued to rock Calla as her dark blue eyes closed and then popped open again. Lowering his voice, he said, “Why don't you grant both Calla and yourself a boon by retiring to your chamber and trying for sleep?"
Maris was shaking her head before Alric even finished. “I couldn't. What if Calla wakes during the night and needs me?"
"Should Calla wake, her nurse will see to her needs.” Alric reached out as far as he could without disturbing Calla and took Maris's cold hand into his. “You're near done in with exhaustion. You'll do neither yourself or this babe any good if you don't get some rest.” He smoothed his thumb over Maris's tense fingers. “You must do this, Maris, if not for yourself or Calla, then for Tristam. How will he feel, I wonder, if he comes home to find his wife has taken ill?"
Maris remained silent. Alric thought at first she was going to argue. After a long moment, she surprised him by nodding her head. “You are right, but I don't feel comfortable leaving Calla until I know the ache in her belly is well and truly gone. Perhaps if I stay with her just until she falls asleep—"
"I'll stay.” Alric cut into her excuse with ease. “I'll hold Calla until she
drifts off and then I'll place her in the cradle myself."
"You're certain ‘tis no bother?"
"No bother at all."
"And you'll instruct the nurse to wake me should Calla have need?"
"Yes."
"But what if—"
"Maris, enough.” Alric gave her fingers another gentle squeeze. “If ‘twill make you feel better, speak with the nurse yourself on your way out and let her know she should fetch you the moment there's reason for concern. After that, I implore you to rest before you drive yourself and this babe quite mad."
"Again, you're right.” Maris pulled free her fingers and leaned down to place a kiss on Calla's soft head. “Sleep well, my beautiful girl.” Next Maris kissed Alric's cheek. “Thank you, my new and most wise brother. If not for your company and support these past seven months, I don't know what I would have done."
"You're welcome. Now be off before you find reason to change your mind."
Finally Maris gave in, and with a last darting glance at her child, turned and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, Alric breathed a sigh of relief.
"Your mama is going to spoil you beyond reason,” he told the still half-awake child. “Even so, The Creator could have chosen none better than Tristam and Maris to raise you.” He slid the tip of his finger over the button of the babe's nose. “Just you wait until your father and your Uncle Gareth lay eyes on you. The two of them will be as besotted by you as the rest of us are."
As if she knew just what Alric was saying, Calla cooed and brandished her tiny fists in the arm, her right hand latching onto Alric's finger. Smiling, he watched as she enfolded him in a tight grip.
"Should we have ourselves a story, then?” He tucked Calla's blankets tight around her and leaned back in his chair. “Something about a valiant knight, you say?” Calla blinked up at him with heavy eyes and Alric laughed. “You're an easy audience. All kings should have such a loyal following."
As Calla fit her left hand to her mouth and began to suckle on the closed fist, Alric spun his tale. “Once upon a time there was a dark price, a man of secrets who lived in a world of shadows. The prince ... he was cursed, you see, and forced to live in a black tower surrounded by fierce, winged dragons and high walls of scorching flame. Many had tried to rescue the prince, but among those brave enough to make the attempt, not one held the key to unlock the chamber of his imprisonment."
Calla's eyes fluttered, and Alric smiled down at her as he continued the story. “Indeed, the prince had long since given up hope of being rescued when a courageous knight from a far kingdom arrived to set him free.” He resettled Calla as the babe drifted into slumber, his voice droning a soothing cadence. “The knight was pure of heart and fair of face, with eyes the deepest shade of blue and hair as gold as the sand that borders the Reveca Sea. His name was Sir Gareth, and with a wicked sword and a noble soul he slew the dragons surrounding the prince's tower and quenched the wall of flame with nothing more than a quelling glance."
Hearing Calla's first soft snores, Alric rose on careful feet. With Calla held tight in his arms, he crossed to the cradle on the far side of the room and lay her down atop the silk coverlet.
She gave a single wail and opened one eye in clear irritation. Chuckling, Alric settled the blankets around her and said, “Want me to finish the tale, aye?” He feathered his fingers over her smooth cheek. Using an even, soothing tone, Alric picked up where he'd left off.
"Once yon knight defeated the dragons and put out the fire, he beat a straight path to the prince's tower. As there were no stairs, Sir Gareth was forced to climb the tower brick by brick. The journey was treacherous and the tower walls were steep, but finally Sir Gareth reached the single, wide window at the top of the tower. Climbing through, he ambled to his feet and made his way to the secret room where the prince was kept. Sir Gareth then pulled from his purse a magical key. He fit it into the lock and...” Alric trailed off as he realized Calla was fast asleep.
"You can't stop now,” came a velvet voice from behind him. “Not when you've only just come to the exciting part."
Alric turned so fast he almost lost his footing, but he barely noticed the discomfort as his knee came in jarring contact with the table on the other side of the cradle. He only had eyes for the man standing in the doorway.
Gareth's eyes were bloodshot and his face—what Alric could see of it through the dense covering of golden beard—was ruddy from too much sun, but to Alric he'd never looked better.
Heart thundering in his chest, Alric walked toward him with slow steps, half afraid if he blinked he'd realize it was all a dream.
He wasn't aware he'd spoken the thought aloud until Gareth said, “'Tis no dream, my own, though The Creator knows you're a more inviting sight than any vision my mind could have conjured."
Gareth closed the distance between them but stopped just short of touching Alric, pinning him with his eyes, instead.
"When last we parted, you were barely speaking to me.” The dark blue circles flickered with concern. “Am I well met, Alric?"
Alric reached out with one finger, tracing Gareth's lips in a whispery caress. “You are."
Gareth gathered Alric into a crushing embrace and held him tight. Inhaling deeply of Alric's hair, he said, “Saints, but I've missed your smell.” He pulled back and took Alric's head in his hands, tilting his face up for a full, breath-stealing kiss.
Alric's mouth opened under the assault, taking Gareth inside as he'd been longing to do these seven months past. Soon they were lost in one another, lips, hands, and everything in between becoming joyfully reacquainted. It wasn't until a soft snuffling wafted from the cradle that they broke apart.
Unwilling to lose contact with Gareth for even an instant, Alric took his hand and the two of them walked to the cradle together.
Gareth looked down at the babe, a broad smile forming under the thick cover of his newly grown mustache. “So tiny.” He glanced back to Alric. “I heard you say Calla. ‘Tis a girl, then?"
Alric nodded. “Named for Maris's mother.” He tilted his head to the side. “How long were you standing there watching us?"
"Long enough to know you'd make an incredible father.” Gareth gave Alric a long, lingering look that heated his blood before turning his attention back to the sleeping infant. “I don't think I ever realized just how small these things are.” He laughed as Calla snorted in her sleep. “If I didn't know better, I'd swear this was Tristam's natural child. She snores as loud as her father."
"Where is Tristam?” Alric was suddenly struck with the fear that something might have happened to the man. “I assumed he'd beat a path straight to the nursery. Is all well with him?"
"Tristam is fine. More than fine, I imagine.” Gareth laced his fingers through Alric's and pulled him away from the cradle. “Let us continue this discussion in the hall lest we wake Calla."
Alric followed him from the room, stopping only to pull the door closed behind them. Once in the antechamber, Alric acknowledged the waiting nurse and then he and Gareth stepped into the hall.
No sooner had they entered the darkened passage than Alric found himself pressed against the cool stone wall. Caging Alric with his body, Gareth leaned in for another slow, lingering kiss.
Not until Gareth took a brief respite for air did Alric manage to ask his question anew. “Gareth, where is Tristam?"
"Hmm?” Gareth nibbled at the edge of Alric's lips. “Oh, Tristam.” He licked a path down Alric's neck, his whiskers teasing and tickling until Alric thought he'd go mad. “He's fine. Reacquainting himself with his wife, I suspect.” The last Gareth said against the base of Alric's throat, the statement a low rumble that made Alric shiver.
"How ... oh, that's nice. How did you know where to find me?"
"Passing servant.” Gareth's hands slid round to cup Alric's backside. “Told us you were putting the babe to sleep, which is why Tristam went to find Maris first."
How Gareth managed to talk and do that at the same t
ime was a mystery to Alric, who was barely managing to piece together a coherent sentence as Gareth plied the column of his neck with lips and tongue. Still, there were questions that had to be answered.
"Gareth, what of Denmar?"
Gareth didn't pause the tender assault. “We'll speak of that later. Where's the room you're using?"
"Down...” Alric gasped as Gareth's hand moved from his buttocks and came around to grasp his growing cock. “Down the hall."
"Praise the saints it isn't far.” Gareth pushed away from the wall, dragging Alric with him on a mad flight down the corridor. “Which door?"
"Last one on the left side.” Alric struggled to keep up with him. “What of our allies? How did they fare?"
"Later.” Gareth reached Alric's room, swinging the door open with a swift kick before pulling Alric inside. Alric was just before asking another question when Gareth pulled him back into his arms, causing Alric to lose both the desire and the ability to talk at all.
* * * *
Gareth woke from the best sleep in recent memory to find the bed beside him empty. Blinking his sleep heavy eyes against the light spilling through the high window on the other side of the room, Gareth surveyed the length of the bedchamber until he found what he was looking for.
"You're already dressed."
From the chair where he was sitting and pulling on his boots, Alric cast Gareth a heart-stopping smile. “With good reason. ‘Tis morning, in case you haven't noticed."
"Come back to bed and we'll pretend it isn't."
Alric finished putting his boots in place before coming across the room and perching on the edge of the bed. “I fear I'm too tired for what you have in mind.” He shifted to the side, wincing at the twinge that slight movement caused. “Too tired, and a might too sore."
