by A. B. Keuser
Outside the room, the corridor was dark and thankfully empty.
In spite of telling herself she would draw more attention, she ran through the halls, stopping only when she came to a corner.
She had only one more turn before she could climb the stairs and return safely to Arthur’s room. She turned, looking the other way and ran into Lord Cat Chaser.
Drawing in a breath, she scrambled for an excuse to give him, but the boy did not look surprised to see her. She swallowed her initial ill ease as she remembered that Lord Cat Chaser saw much more than he let on.
“He’s already back up there, miss.” He nodded to the stairs that led to Arthur’s tower. “You’ll need to take care of him. Something is out of place, but I think it can wait until morning. If it can’t, me and the boys will take care of it.”
Cat Chaser turned and walked away from her with slow, pained steps and her chest felt hollow. “Wait.”
The little lordling turned back to her and shook his head. “Arthur needs you more than we do tonight.”
When he turned away again, she climbed the stairs, two at a time.
Arthur stood in the room, his back to her, hands clenching the top of his desk. The shirt he wore was not the one he’d been in when he danced with Agathina. That hung in the armoire as though it hadn’t been touched. Blood stained the clothing he wore, and through a tear in the fabric, she could see the raw, red flesh from where the cogs had sliced through him again.
“Isabelle—”
She crossed to the basin of water and moved to his side. “Can you sit?”
Nodding, he straddled the chair that had been thrown to the side of the desk.
Helping him out of the bloody, torn shirt, she tossed it into the still roaring fire and shuddered at the sight of his wounds.
“You shouldn’t have left.”
“I had to see her.” She wrung out her cloth and set about cleaning the viscera. “I had to know what we’re fighting.”
“We can’t fight her.”
“Maybe not, but we can try.”
As she cleaned his cuts, he didn’t voice the concerns that echoed in through their connection and mirrored her own.
Twelve
He startled upright in the middle of the night as a furious crash and a terrible bolt of lightning shook the castle. Not knowing how long he’d been asleep, he forced himself to relax—to work his way through the evening and reassure himself everything was alright.
A storm raged outside. Sleeting rain beat against the window panes, and a gale howled through nooks and crannies in the ancient castle’s walls.
Beside him, Isabelle slept soundly, her breasts rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm. Her hand resting over the scratched skin of her stomach. He slid from the bed, clenching his teeth as the cogs in his leg caught on the sheet. A crack of thunder reverberated the walls around him and he glanced back, but Isabelle slept peacefully. If the thunder could not wake her, he doubted he would.
Moving stiffly to the window, he watched the flurry of the storm and an ill ease settled over him. He stared out the window until dawn brightened the sky and a line of brilliant pink crept up from the horizon.
Isabelle woke hours later, her shifting drawing his attention away from the gray day outside.
“Are you okay?” She asked as she stretched.
His eyes followed the fabric as it slid over her skin and he nodded.
“We have things to do, and the boys to inform of your return. We may want to start with Maynard though. He was the most vocal in his disappointment in me for letting you go.”
“Maynard was upset I left?” she asked as she slipped from the bed and pulled a rumpled dress from her, as of yet, unpacked bag.
“You’ve paid more attention to him in your time here than any of us have. He’s mostly a fickle creature, but once you’ve earned his love, he is loyal to a fault.”
Helping her dress, Arthur wove the silver roses into her hair. She thanked him as he opened the door, but he didn’t have time to respond. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Lord Cat Chaser propped up against the landing’s low wall. The boy jumped to his feet when he saw them, dropping the book he’d been reading.
“Good, you’re up!”
“What are you doing out here?” Isabelle asked, sliding past him.
Lord Cat Chaser didn’t seem at all surprised to see her, which left Arthur glaring at the boy, but his questions could wait.
Looking at Isabelle, the little lordling said, “After I checked some things out and talked to a few of my lieutenants, we all agreed. Someone new is here. I saw a figure coming over the wall after you snuck in without letting any of us know.” He spared Arthur momentary brow waggle, before turning back to her. “Things have moved and they’re not things the teakettles would have messed with.”
Isabelle flinched beside him. “I thought I was just being paranoid, but it felt like someone followed me here.” She blew out a frustrated breath and pressed her hand to her forehead. “I should have realized he had someone watching my aunt’s house when he showed up almost immediately after I did.”
“Who?” Arthur asked at the same instance Lord Cat Chaser did.
“Jaquel Gaston, the man my aunt was going to sell me to. He’s possessive. He acted like he owned me after my aunt made the arrangement, and I was avoiding him before I wound up here.” She swallowed and looked away from him. “I think he knows about my mother… I don’t know what he wants to do with that knowledge, but it scares me.”
Lord Cat Chaser hummed in thought, and said, “There’s lots of things you can do with fairy blood. It might be as simple as wanting to find your human parent and claim that he’s royal by marriage.”
Arthur stared at him.
“What? Look at her eyes. There’s no missing what she is.”
Ignoring him, Arthur turned back to her. “It might not be him.”
“Before I could come back here last night, I had to duck into one of the boys’ rooms to avoid someone. The footsteps were heavy. Who else would follow me onto an enchanted path?”
“If he did follow you, why hasn’t he come to find you… or to challenge me?”
“He’s a huntsman. He doesn’t do anything until he knows his prey and the lay of its territory. If I had to guess… I’d say he’s looking for a weakness to exploit.”
“Weaknesses like us?” Lord Cat Chaser asked.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Arthur looked down into the castle and then to Lord Cat Chaser. “Let’s gather up all your compatriots. You and Isabelle go through the castle, tell all the boys to get to the library.”
“Is that wise?” Isabelle asked.
“It’s the best option; I fortified it against the teakettles years ago. If a metal man can’t break through, a human one won’t be able to either.”
Nodding, Lord Cat Chaser started down the stairs, but Isabelle did not follow directly after. “What are you going to do?”
“I have one last invention that might help. We have to blind the teakettles… if they see him, I don’t know what will happen.”
“Too bad we don’t have enough smoke bombs to blanket the whole castle.” Lord Cat Chaser said.
Isabelle nodded and set off down the stairs behind Lord Cat Chaser. Arthur watched her go and then began his slow progress down the tower stairs.
*
Isabelle and Lord Cat Chaser moved quickly through the castle, finding boys in the oddest of places and sending them to the library with instructions to collect anyone they saw along the way.
The Duke of Hasty Pudding was hanging from a chandelier in a third floor sitting room, his knees hooked in the curved metal that would have once held candles.
His hands dangled and his hat was on the floor. For a moment, Isabelle thought he was dead.
When Lord Cat Chaser threw a piece of the Duke’s breakfast at him – the eggy substance smacking him square on the cheek—the Duke opened his eyes and dropped, landing on the floor in a tangled
pile of limbs.
“What did you do that for?” he said, scrambling up and hitting at his hat in an attempt to undo the damage that came from squashing it. “I was having a perfectly fine time, minding my own business… not hurting anybody.”
“Quit your complaining and get to the library, Master Arthur’s orders.”
The Duke stood up straight and glared at Cat Chaser. “You’re not playing a joke?”
“He’s not,” Isabelle said and bit back a laugh as the Duke jumped.
“You’re back? Did I dream up the whole blowing up a wall business?”
“We’ll talk about it later. First, you go to the library. Grab anyone you see on the way.”
Hesitating, the Duke narrowed his eyes and asked “Why don’t I come with you?”
“Because you smell like pea soup.”
Isabelle stepped between the boys before the Duke could throw a punch. “If you go, I’ll give you this.” She pulled one of the two gold coins she’d placed in her pocket that morning. It had seemed like a strange thing at the time, but now, she had a good reason why.
The Duke glared at Cat Chaser, walked over to hug Isabelle around her legs, and then ran from the room. Isabelle watched him go and shook her head.
“Up or down?” she asked when they returned to the hallway. “I think there is a wing on the other side we might have missed.”
Nodding, the little lordling glanced in that direction. “We might have. Mostly the boys don’t go there. It gives us all the shivers.”
“Still, never know who’s hanging from a chandelier over there.”
Isabelle followed Cat Chaser up the stairs and across a landing and immediately felt the ugly prickling on her skin that made her tiny companion shiver. She pushed through the sick sense of foreboding and together, the two of them went through empty room after empty room. Thankfully Lord Cat Chaser had the decency to not give her a sharp “I told you so.”
But as they turned to venture down the next hall, Isabelle paused, her gaze catching on a glimmer of copper in the far corner. A door with copper hinges and intricate scrollwork at the top of three steps glittered in the low flicker of candlelight.
“What’s up there?” She asked him and watched as the boy’s eyes darted up to the door.
Confusion wrinkled his little brow and he shrugged, taking hold of her hand and tugging her back. “I don’t know. I guess I never noticed it before.”
Curious, she let go of him and walked across the room toward the metallic archway. It beckoned to her with a soft and lulling heart song.
One foot on the bottom stair, a cold dread swept through her momentarily and she quickly pulled away. “We’ll ask Arthur about it.”
Nodding, Lord Cat Chaser tugged on her skirt, pulling her slowly down the three steps. When they were back on the floor, he let go and hurried to the landing that held the descending stairwell, holding the door open for her.
A dark slither echoed in the room behind her and Isabelle turned too quickly. Her skirts tangled around her feet and she fell, barely managing to catch herself on the hard stones. She scrabbled back to standing, but the door between her and the landing slipped from Lord Cat Chaser’s hands. Slamming shut, it rattled on its hinges. Isabelle’s fingers touched the hard wood and metal banding the door together and immediately she pulled away, her skin burned from the bolts.
“I’ll go get Master Arthur!” the boy shouted through the door, and with a clattering of soles on stone stairs, Lord Cat Chaser was gone.
The room around her filled with a beautiful and cruel laughter, and Isabelle spun to face the door that lead upward. A cold, clawing hand grabbed her by the throat, and before she could scream, Agathina hauled her through the door and into darkness.
Thirteen
Arthur worked as quickly as he could on one of the many devices Isabelle’s notations had made possible for him to finish. If this one worked the way he’d intended, they would never have to hide from a teakettle again.
In the area below him, the boys gathered around each other, a book in one’s lap as they focused on reading a story he remembered from childhood, but couldn’t quite recall the ending of. The Viscount Loudmouth stood silently at his side, reading over his shoulder. Every now and again, one of the boys would look up at him, startled, as though they expected him to run down the stairs shouting at them to leave.
His first thought was that he probably couldn’t run anywhere and the absurdity of that made him shake his head.
He was three attachments away from finishing the device in his hand when a commotion from the hallway startled him and the invention fell from his stiff fingers to the floor.
The remaining boys spilled into the library, Lord Cat Chaser at their head. Even Maynard was among them – perched on the little lordling’s shoulders.
They all began shouting at once, but he looked to Lord Cat Chaser for answers.
“Some enchantment has taken Miss Isabelle!”
Cold dread sliced through him and he turned to the others. “Don’t stand there shouting! Show me!”
Struggling to keep up, Arthur followed the boys out of the library, and only hoped his worst fears were impossible.
Arthur turned the corner and almost bowled over the boys at the back of the group. They had all stopped and were staring at the man who stood in front of them. Tall, with dark hair and an expression that spoke of murder, he looked up from the boys and focused his attention on Arthur.
“You’re the one who wants to take what’s mine. I can’t allow that.”
Lord Cat Chaser pushed his way to the front and shoved the man back. “No one owns her.”
Weeding his way through the crowd of orphans, Arthur reached the boy, pulling him back just before Gaston’s club-like fist would have sent him flying.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Thank you for stating the obvious.” Gaston sneered, looking him up and down. “What the hell are you?”
“Get out, now. Isabelle made her choice. You have no say in her future.”
“I paid her aunt already. I own her. Marriage was just a formality.” Gaston pulled a gun from his belt and leveled it at his head. “Her fairy blood is mine, and I will drain it from her whether it’s here or back at my lodge.”
Arthur’s body went numb. The terror streaking through his veins had nothing to do with the cold barrel of the pistol aimed at his head.
The sound of metal, squealing steam and clattering gears echoed too close. Arthur turned at the same moment a teakettle surged out of a bisecting corridor.
Arthur managed to fall out of the contraption’s way, landing with a sickening pain on his back, but the other man was not so lucky. Gaston’s gun went flying as the contraption grabbed him. He tried to fight off the teakettle, but it wrapped its arm around him and all the thrashing did was knock them both over.
A moment later, another teakettle descended on them and Arthur was certain Gaston wouldn’t be going anywhere. It was convenient, but Arthur couldn’t question that when Isabelle was in danger. He left Gaston to whatever fate awaited him.
*
The air was a breath of ice on her skin. Shivering, Isabelle recoiled from the gossamer fluttering that brushed over her skin. In the dark, with no light to see where she might step, she stood as still as stone. If she could have ceased breathing, she would have. Each inhale and exhale was too loud in the silent, dim space.
“What is your name?” Agathina asked. Her voice was as bright as a bell, its tone piercing.
Her teeth chattering, Isabelle peered through the darkness in the direction of the voice.
It spoke again this time from behind her. “You will do as I tell you, girl, or you will die in as many painful ways as I can concoct.”
Something stabbed through her and she said, “Isabelle!” with a gasp of agony. Her voice was a cloud of vapor as a dim glow illuminated a circle around her. But with her answer, the pain lessened.
“Such a worthless human, such an i
nconsequential thing.”
Turning to the voice, Isabelle stumbled backward a step. Agathina had been beautiful from the vantage above her ball, up close, that beauty was staggering, marred only by the unnatural aura that hung about her like a shroud of smoke. Even her unearthly black eyes were beautiful – terrifying.
She stepped forward and the light grew. Above, Isabelle saw shimmering and shifting shapes in the rafters. Cruel yellow eyes peered down at her and light glinted from viciously sharp teeth. A sound like silk over sand echoed down to her, and somehow, she knew they were laughing at her.
“You thought you could steal him from me?” Agathina’s words scraped like nails on glass and Isabelle flinched away.
“But what are you? Nothing but a pathetic, mortal girl.” The fairy leaned in close, and Isabelle saw the pearly white teeth in her mouth were sharpened to needle-fine points. “SPEAK!”
“He doesn’t belong to you; I can’t steal him.” Her voice was so small, she wasn’t sure it was she who’d spoken.
“What could you give him that I cannot?”
Isabelle’s throat still burned where Agathina’s hand had touched her. “Love,” she said, though she didn’t think Agathina wanted an answer.
Glaring at her, the dark fairy stalked back and forth, her hand hidden in the folds of her black skirt. Isabelle wondered if their brief contact had done more damage to Agathina than her.
“Why would he choose to be with you, when he could choose all the glory I possess, all the power I could give him?”
Isabelle could move, but she knew Agathina thought she was paralyzed. She didn’t know how she knew. Staring into the face of the glorious and terrible fairy who seemed to hold her in thrall.
“Falling in love doesn’t take effort. It happens all on its own. There’s no difference between what love does to us and the undercurrent of a river.”
Agathina stared at her, mouth parting in an impossibly wide smile. “In your case, they are both as deadly.”
Her hand flew out, and Isabelle was thrown backward like a ragdoll.
