by A. B. Keuser
His mouth was on hers before she could process the movement, but it was exactly where she wanted him to be. She kissed him back, putting in every ounce of her frustration and her odd attraction to him. Pressed against him, she could feel the uneven surface of his skin, the tokens his jailer had left him with. Her soul ached at the idea.
She arched into him, feeling the hard iron of the gate against her hips and the ivy tangling in her hair. How could a man she didn’t even know make her feel so deliciously depraved. She shook her head as Arthur’s lips slid to her neck. She did not need to be thinking about anyone else right now.
That was a dangerous thought.
If she didn’t keep a close eye on herself, she was bound to do something stupid, like tug him to the ground and take him here on the cold, hard gravel.
She whimpered at the thought, her nipples pebbling with the promise in her mind, or maybe it was the cold. Arthur had opened her cloak and somehow managed to pull her bodice down far enough that when she glanced down, she could see the pert little bud of her right breast peeking over the fabric.
Holding her breath, she stilled and waited for him to do something. His hand covered over her less than an inch from the swollen skin. She wanted him to touch her, so she made it happen. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him closer and when his fingers dragged softly over her breast, she let go of a shaking breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Pulling him closer, she kissed him again, letting her tongue slide against his and reacting to every shift of his fingers, brushing against her skin.
She wanted to push him further, to make him need her as much as she needed him right now.
Her hands wandered down his stomach and his muscles flinched beneath her touch as she found what she was looking for. Letting out a rasping breath, he dropped his forehead against hers. He was hard as granite, and if the shape she felt right now was any indication, she wouldn’t be disappointed.
He whispered a curse against her lips as she palmed him through his trousers, but before she could go any further, he straightened, and the curse he let fly was not directed at her or anything they’d been doing.
He grabbed her harshly by the shoulders and pulled her away from the gate. She barely managed to grab her basket before he pulled her through the hedge and into the outer gardens.
Her head ached from where the ivy had torn at her hair and she started to scold him, but he pressed a finger to her lips.
She heard it then, the clattering wheeze of a teakettle. They’d almost been caught by the evil fairy’s device.
A chill raced through her, and she realized her breast was still half exposed. In the harsh light of a clear head, she saw just how foolish she’d been. Taking a few deep breaths, she watched the ground as Arthur watched the mechanical creation.
When he let out a sigh of relief, she snatched up her basket and ran back to the castle.
Five
Lord Cat Chaser and the Duke of Hasty Pudding had shown Isabelle their favorite hiding spots, and taught her what to listen for to steer clear of the teakettles by the time the lunch gong rang the next day. The boys ignored it and she wasn’t hungry enough to protest as they led her along a seemingly unending corridor flanked by doors.
“The teakettles leave us alone most of the time. I think they figure there’s no mischief we can get into that really needs watching. Mostly, they survey the grounds looking for the new kids—the ones who aren’t gearheads yet.” Cat Chaser made a face at one of the paintings hung between a door and a large potted plant.
The Duke hit him atop the head. “We only run into them if they catch us in a corridor with nothing but locked doors.”
“I won’t have a problem with that.” She pulled the key from her skirt pocket and looked from it to the nearest door.
“He gave you the key?” The Duke stared at her in shock. “He must think you’re really pretty if he trusts you with that. You could even go into the library!”
“He won’t let you into the library?”
Lord Cat Chaser let out a huff. “No, Colonel Egg Dropper got his name in the library… and ever since that we haven’t been allowed in.”
“I’ve never even seen it!” The Duke said, with a quiet harrumph. “Egg Dropper was here two years before I was.”
Isabelle looked over her shoulder to see who else was nearby. Satisfied they were alone; she knelt down and looked at the boys with a conspiratorial smile. “Would you like to see it now? The three of us can’t do much harm.”
Both boys set off at a run, and she hurried behind them quickly, following the gleeful shouts as they batted at, and dodged, each other’s attacks. Isabelle fought the smile that sprang to her lips.
They waited for her, bouncing with anticipation at a set of tall doors, pushing each other back at the shoulder. “Let her have some room! She won’t be able to open it if your massive head is in the way.”
Laughing, Isabelle slipped between them and using the key, she unlocked it. Lord Cat Chaser pushed hastily in, and the dark room she’d expected to find fled entirely from her mind as she stepped onto the landing.
Tall windows illuminated the stacks that lined the room, and the boys stared up at them in awe. The landing looked down on more shelves, and tables piled high with papers and sturdy chairs grouped around a fireplace.
The library was full to bursting with tomes of all shapes and sizes. It was a dream Isabelle's sister would have happily fallen into with the hopes of never waking up.
In front of her, a staircase led down into a sunken level, where long tables were stacked with books, and held scrolls of papers. Beside them overstuffed chairs were positioned by a hearth and around smaller shelves than those around her.
The boys stood at her side glancing around with a wonder Isabelle knew her own face mirrored.
"He keeps this locked up?"
Lord Cat Chaser nodded and said, "Colonel Egg Dropper destroyed half a shelf of volumes one day and we've been banned ever since."
"Books are meant to be read, not locked away."
"But we can't replace those that might get damaged, so Arthur keeps us out."
"That is ridiculous." She pulled them over to the stacks to their left and said. "I have the keys now; I'm going to make sure these books are read." For however long she was there.
Running around the upper landing, the boys shouted across the expanse to each other as they explored the shelves. Isabelle let them play and descended into the cluttered work area. Pages free of dust, and inkpots uncovered but still wet told her the pursuits on these tables had only recently been abandoned. The worn patches of carpet between the workspace and the fireplace chairs hinted of pacing into the wee hours of the morning.
Arthur spent an inordinate amount of time in this library.
She leafed through the pages, curious what kept him occupied through the years of his imprisonment. Not the least of her reasons for wanting to escape was her own surety she would die of tedium before any magical power, light or dark, would harm her.
Abandoning the table, she looked toward the small sitting area.
After a sleepless night, where every creak and groan of the unfamiliar palace had her jumping from her own skin, the overstuffed chairs beckoned to her. Lifting a heavy leather-bound notebook from the table, she sat heavily and looked to the empty grate in the fireplace. Beggars couldn’t be warm and snoop through writing too.
Open on her lap, its pages crammed with drawings and quickly scrawled notes, the journals held designs of greatness. Silently flipping through the pages, she wondered if any of the creations on the page had ever been made.
A heavy set of thumps overhead pulled her attention back to the landing and to the two boys tumbling down it. As with most young boys, resilience seemed the obvious benefit of youth. They hit the bottom and bounced right back up, racing toward her. In Lord Cat Chaser’s hands, a thick tome slipped and slid against his waistcoat and he stumbled to a stop in front of her.
“I knew he wouldn’t
have gotten rid of it. Didn’t I say as much?”
The Duke nodded quickly but said nothing as the other boy thrust the book at her. “Will you please read this to us? I haven’t heard the story since we were barred from the library, and none of us do it justice when we try to recite it off the top of our heads.”
She appraised them slowly and set the journal on the small table beside her. “Alright, but as soon as I finish it, we’ll have to leave. If Master Arthur comes back to work on things, we don’t want to be in his way.”
Nodding quickly, Lord Cat Chaser shoved the book in her lap. Both boys dropped to floor in front of her tucking their legs under them. Both trained hopeful gazes on her as they waited.
Opening the thick book, she looked through the pages; each was filled with thick, flowing script, and illustrated with scenes from the stories within. “Is there one you wanted specifically?”
“Yes, the one where fairies are good.”
Looking through the stories, she picked one that looked like it fit the description, cleared her throat and began to read.
*
The library had been silent for too long, its stacks abandoned by the children. Arthur was still ashamed that the reason for their long absence was little more than a lack of time taken to set down rules. His conscience would have plagued him less if they’d forsaken it from boredom or neglect.
As he stood in the shadows of the shelves holding the palace’s collection on the applied sciences, he couldn’t help but feel a clod. Isabelle’s voice filtered through the room, up and over the balusters as she read to the boys from the collection of stories they had favored in the earliest days of their imprisonment.
The story came to an end, and her voice dropped low. Inching forward, he still could not hear what she said to the boys.
Across the open expanse Maynard leapt to the railing and looked down, his striped tail twitching.
“It’s been a very long time since anyone’s read aloud in the library.”
“Has it?” Her voice filtered up from the floor below, all sweetness and light.
“She reads beautifully, don’t you think, Arthur?” Maynard looked up, his mechanical eye pieces articulating as a sly grin exposed the points of two pearly, sharp teeth.
Shooting the cat a deathly glare, Arthur stepped to the railing. “The children are not supposed to be in the library.”
When he looked down into the lower level, the two boys had hidden themselves behind her. He could see Lord Cat Chaser’s cog-laden hand clutching at the fabric of her skirt.
With a heavy sigh, he met Isabelle’s frown, “I suppose, as it is only the two of them, and as you’re here with them, it is acceptable. Supervision might have saved our collection on Early Lonterran history.”
Her mouth twisted into a grimace and she turned to the boys, whispering something quietly into Lord Cat Chaser’s ear. With a quick nod and a sharp elbow in the Duke of Hasty Pudding’s ribs, he ran up the stairs and out of the room, with the other boy close on his heels.
Arthur followed them and closed the door after. Isabelle had returned to her chair.
She was not going anywhere.
Seated, she flipped through a thin tome and he stepped closer to the rail trying to decipher… his own writing. She was reading one of his notebooks.
Clenching his jaw, he took the steps down. Three steps from the bottom, he cast a long glare to Maynard. The cat licked his paw, cleaning his face as though he were the only living thing in the library.
Something about her tugged at him. Like what they’d done last night had wound a piece of twine around his sternum, and every step he took away from her pulled the cord between them taut and threatened to snap. If it affected Isabelle, she was doing a damned good job of hiding it.
“Are you… well?” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. She’d already made it clear she didn’t want him to apologize.
Smiling, she closed the book in her lap and looked up at him, her eyes shining as they had the night before. “I’m not sure.”
He didn’t know what to make of that smile when weighed against the fact she’d run from him the night before, so he stayed silent and stepped behind one of the chairs. Whatever he was feeling, she clearly was not, and he hoped that keeping something between them would dissuade him from doing something rash again.
"If my sister had been lured to the castle instead of me, you wouldn't have needed to find her a room. As soon as she saw this, she would have planted herself firmly in one of those chairs and never come out again."
"It would be difficult to read everything in this library in a single lifetime."
Isabelle nodded and closed the book. "Especially since she’d forget to eat, so her lifetime would be that much shorter.”
He smiled, but didn’t feel any emotion that should have come with it.
“Do you have any sisters or brothers?” She looked away as if she hadn’t meant to ask… as if she already knew the answer.
“I have a sister. I have no idea where she or any of the rest of my family are. I can only hope they’re safe. Hazel would have loved you.” He stopped as he realized how much emphasis he’d put on love.
Isabelle jumped up as though she’d been burned, clutching the book to her chest. “I promised I’d read to them before bed tonight.”
He nodded and kept his hold on the chair as she stepped backward, each movement tugging at his chest a little more. “They’ll enjoy that.”
“It must be very…difficult.”
“We’ve managed thus far.” His gaze fell to the notebook on the table she’d been sitting beside; she’d opened it and flipped through the pages.
Three painful strides and he snatched it away. “I have kept this room private for many reasons. To prevent others from reading my personal notes was one of them.”
He bit his tongue as he made the aching journey back to his work bench.
Standing, she hurried to his side. He envied her the grace of a simple, upright gait.
“Are all of these yours?” She asked as he pulled the notebooks from the table, stacking them to his left so that he stood between them.
“When one has no responsibilities, one finds things to keep themselves from jumping from the tallest tower.”
She stared at him, unblinking, and he knew she waited for a laugh – for him to tell her it was nothing but a joke. He didn’t know if it was anymore.
He reached for the remaining notebook at the same time she did. Their fingers touched. A jolt struck through him again and his lungs seized. For the briefest of moments, he looked into her impossible eyes, remembering their look when dazed with kisses.
Jerking away, he looked quickly to the opposite side of the table, trying to catch his breath. When he looked back, she’d sunk to the bench running along the table. Her eyes on the carpet, cheeks flushed.
If he could have sat, he would have done so now, but the cogs embedded in his legs and back kept him upright when wooden benches were his only option. The dark fairy kept him uncomfortable in her attempts to make her visits more appealing.
Her visits.
Arthur’s blood ran cold and he looked to the clock above the mantle. A month was not long enough.
“I’m sorry. It’s getting late. Maybe you should go read to them now.” As much as it hurt, he needed her to leave.
He watched her go, breathing deeply to keep his lungs—his heart—from collapsing from the pain that tugged at him.
Throwing the notebook on the table with the others, he pushed through the stacks, jumbling his already haphazard organization system. There had to be a project in this pile that could help him.
“I will find a way to let her leave.” He pulled open his notebooks and leafed through them, looking for any drawing that might be worth revisiting. One he could change to help her.
Beside him, Maynard inclined his head. “Doing that will drive away the one thing that could make you happy regardless of your imprisonment.”
&
nbsp; *
Isabelle knocked on the door to the room Lord Cat Chaser had mentioned they wanted to gather in and heard a chorus of voices inviting her in. All sixty-two of the boys were there, but the room Cat Chaser had chosen was big enough that they didn’t feel crowded.
She sat on the floor with them and spread out her skirt to keep it from wrinkling—she only had one after all.
As she smoothed the fabric out the boys scooted closer and one whose name she hadn’t yet learned let out a little giggle.
“This is like back before my mum died. She’d read to me every night. I thought I wanted to be a knight. If I was a knight, I’d be able to stop her.”
“My mum couldn’t read, neither could my dad. We lived on a boat and my mom told me stories about mermaids.”
The children started talking over each other, each with their own sad story to tell, and then one voice broke through the others.
“As much as I like living in a big ol’ castle, and as much as I like Master Arthur, I really would like to grow up eventually,” The Duke of Hasty Pudding said from his perch atop a sideboard.
“What do you mean?”
The boys looked at each other nervously. Lord Cat Chaser and the Duke were the two the others seemed to look up to more than even the older boys. Finally the Duke of Hasty Pudding spoke up. “I’ve been here three years… I’m the same height, I’ve got a loose tooth that won’t come out no matter how much I pull on it… we’re not aging.”
Beside him, Lord Cat Chaser nodded. “Unless the dark fairy’s curse is lifted, I’ll be seven forever. I should be twelve.”
Isabelle swallowed the lump that lodged in her throat and opened the book in front of her. She didn’t have a solution. All she could do was try to help them forget.
She would read to them every night she was there.
Six
While the boys were a constant source of joy, Arthur had fallen into distraction.
He was keeping something from her.
Each time she went into the library, he’d snap shut his notebook and shuffled another stack of papers over that side of the table. When she asked, he became increasingly vague.
