by Megan Derr
That was the other reason he tried not to be hurt by Gael's insistence on secrecy. Gael worried for him and didn't want him to die. Noire wasn't convinced secrecy was the best way to go, but he understood the power of dreams, how tightly they held on.
Huffing, he tried to change the direction of his thoughts as he ran along the roads. He dashed and weaved easily through the various pedestrians, horses, and carts clogging the road.
A few hours later, he left the main road behind and kept running down a narrower, quieter road that would eventually end at the private estate of Lady Elianne Poulx, the White Eagle. At seventy-three, she was older than most of the other White Beasts. Noire hoped she was all right and just completely mired in whatever was wrong at her estate. The Triad would be crushed if she was dead, and Noire did not dare think about how it would jeopardize the ceremony.
He pushed himself just a little harder, not stopping until he finally reached the traveler's post that signaled the halfway point. Noire went immediately inside and collapsed before the fireplace in the dining hall.
Someone laughed softly and murmured something about food and drink, and Noire managed to growl a soft thanks. He closed his eyes, resting until the food arrived. A few hours rest, and then he would be on his way again.
*~*~*
He knew something was wrong just walking up the long driveway. Noire had visited the White Eagle's private estate several times, delivering messages to her or her relatives. Though technically his only job was to deliver messages to and for the Triad, the White Beasts were allowed to make use of his services for private matters provided he was not otherwise occupied.
Always there were people about when he visited. Lady Elianne adored company, preferred always to have something going on at all times. Even if she herself was ensconced in her parlor, there were family and guests riding horses, playing games, or throwing parties. Rain or shine, spring or winter, there was always something going at Lady Elianne's Estate.
So why was it quieter than a temple holding a funeral ceremony? Noire climbed the steps to the front door and knocked loudly. When no one came to the door, when he did not hear even a peep on the other side, Noire pounded on the door, making his hand hurt, and then stepped back and shouted, "Open in the name of the Triad, by order of the Royal Voice!"
Silence fell, and then Noire heard footsteps running toward the door, heard someone hit it followed by the heavy, thudding click of the tumblers turning as the door was unlocked. The door swung open to display a harried looking servant in rumpled clothes, her hair barely still in a bun with long strands of it falling around her face. It looked as though she had been crying. She dropped to her knees in the doorway. "Begging your pardon, Voice."
"Nothing to pardon," Noire said. "Rise and tell me what is amiss in the household of the White Eagle."
"We can't find her!" the woman exclaimed. "Everyone is in the woods trying to find her. She went to her temple a few days ago and took Philippe with her. We thought nothing of it, but two days ago someone went to see her because they'd been gone longer than usual—" She burst into tears. "Philippe is dead, and we cannot find her! Everyone is in the woods looking—" She broke down entirely, unable to get out more words.
Noire closed the front door and hugged her tightly before leading her to the kitchen. "Why has no one contacted the Triad to tell them of this?"
"Too busy trying to find her, and we don't know what happened, or so his lordship said," the woman replied.
"Compose a note at once and send it to Prince Gael," Noire said. "Where do I go to find this temple?"
Sniffling, the woman stood up and hurried over to the back door. Opening it, she pointed. "Down that path. When it forks, take it into the woods rather than toward the pond. The temple is about an hour's walk in; you won't be able to miss it."
Noire was off before she'd finished speaking, pushing away his exhaustion as he shifted and took off down the path at a run. He vanished into the dark woods, moving easily through the trees, taking shortcuts along the winding, twisting path until he nearly ran right into the temple.
It was old, he saw immediately. The wear on the stones, the style of it, the temple could easily have been built before the Great Loss. It was small, set back in a clearing barely big enough to hold it, and could only be reached by a little stone bridge that crossed a trickling stream. Noire remained in his panther form as he padded across the bridge and crept up the steps into the temple.
Blood was the first smell to hit him, followed immediately by death. The body of the servant Philippe had been removed, but no one had cleaned up after the body. He smelled something else, something that nagged ... but then it was gone, and he could not catch it again.
Shaking himself, Noire prowled deeper into the room, exploring every crevice in search of clues. Who would attempt to murder the White Eagle? She was one of the nicest of the Beasts and well-liked by everyone. When Noire had been new and green and scared to death, she had helped him settle.
There were two or three Beasts he could see people wanting to kill, if only in a fit of temper, but Lady Elianne? Noire growled and padded over to the stains in the middle of the room, annoyed they had moved the body. It might have given some clue that the others missed. Grimacing at the smell, he nevertheless pressed closer to it ... and caught a whiff of something that did not fit. A musty smell, like stale air.
Growling again, Noire shifted back to his human form and used his fingers to explore the floor in a way paws would not permit. There—grooves. He followed the path of the hairline grooves until he had mapped out the square that was clearly a trap door of some sort. But how to get it open?
The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and Noire looked up as Lord Yann, Lady Elianne's son, stormed into the room. "Who in the—Voice, my apologies. What are you doing here?"
"The better question, my lord, is why you have ignored the letters sent to you by his highness, and why have you neglected to inform the Triad of this terrible development?"
Yann immediately bowed his head and shoulders in apology and submission. "It was a grievous error. We have been searching so frantically, and the nature of the matter was so strange, that we have been loath to stop to communicate."
"What happened?" Noire asked. "Tell me everything."
Nodding, Yann ran hands through his already disheveled hair. He was the very image of his mother, tall and thin, hints of his raven form in the wispiness of his hair and the sharpness of his face. He had dark blond hair and bright green eyes, as though someone had taken his mother and added splashes of color. Noire wondered if his children were out in the woods or still scattered at their own homes. "My mother comes here every so often to meditate. Mostly, she hates it. You know how she is, always wanting something going on. But sometimes, she does need her quiet. So she takes Philippe for safety and comes out here to meditate for a day or so. The longest I have known her to be gone is three days. Still, she is older now and getting more and more tired, especially with the stress of the approaching ceremony. I did not think much of it when she was gone four days. However, when she did not return the evening of the fifth, I came to see that all was well. I smelled the blood immediately; Philippe had been dead two days. I can find no sign of my mother. It's as though she was never here."
"I think there's a chance she's beneath us," Noire said, and he beckoned Yann close, taking his hand and guiding it to the fine grooves.
"Philippe died protecting her?"
"Maybe," Noire said quietly. "But there's no obvious way to open it, and the secret of it is hidden away with her grace."
Yann swore. "I wish she had at least told me of it." He raked his hand through his hair again. "Honestly, I know secrecy is the nature of the Beasts, but I ... "
Noire said nothing because he privately agreed. The secrecy of the Beasts—of the Triad—grated. Deeply. But there was little to nothing the rest of them could do about it. "There must be a way, because she is not foolish enough to just lock herself up
with no way for anyone to get to her. The Beasts are many things, but careless is not one of them."
"We must find it," Yann said, and they both stood up to begin searching the rest of the temple for any clues.
There was a frustrating lack of clues. Like most of the old temples, the inside was stark, nothing but plain marble walls carved with images of the gods and pictures that conveyed various important stories and prayers. A small, low table held a bowl of water and several candles in gleaming silver holders.
Noire bit back the curses he wanted to voice. If the White Eagle had been trapped below for two days there was no telling her condition. There had to be a way to get to her!
The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and Noire spun around to face the door—and sighed in relief when Freddie walked through the door. "Your highness! That was remarkably fast."
"We got the maid's note, and I came here immediately," Freddie replied. "Tell me everything."
Yann repeated everything he had told Noire, and when he was done, Noire explained their suspicions about the trap door. "I would wager that it can only be opened by Beasts—or the Triad of course," Freddie said when they had finished. Crossing the room, she knelt and placed her hand in the center of the space they'd indicated.
The square of marble shimmered, and then rose slightly, a handhold appearing that had not been there before. Yann grabbed it and pulled the door open. Noire looked, but saw only darkness. He grabbed the edge and swung down. He drew a breath, then let go—and grunted when he landed on hard-packed ground after a brief but heart-stopping fall. "Lady Elianne?" he called out.
"Is she there?" Yann demanded. "I am coming down." Noire barely got out of the way in time as Yann leapt down to join him. "Where is she?"
Above them, Freddie snorted in exasperation. Noire felt the brush of magic, and then a light flared above them, revealing a pale, wrinkled woman hunched unconscious in the corner.
"Mother!" Yann cried out and ran toward her. His voice held a tremble when he said, "She's alive, but barely, I think." Carefully scooping her up, he carried her to the trapdoor and stared helplessly up at it.
"There's a ladder here," Noire said, spying it in another corner. He set it up and after a great of fumbling, shifting, and swearing, they finally managed to get Lady Elianne up out of the secret room.
Freddie laid her out on the temple floor, eyes shimmering while she examined Elianne. She frowned as she finished and drew back. "We will need Gael to confirm it, but ... I think she was poisoned. Whatever happened here, she did not get away in time. We need to get her back to the palace. Yann, can you fly?"
"Yes, highness."
"Noire, you will ride with me to ensure she does not fall."
Noire did not bother to reply, just lifted Elianne up in his arms and settled her over Freddie's back after Freddie shifted. He mounted behind her, focusing on the crisis and not the fact that he was on the Pegasus' back.
Sometimes, he found it hard to believe his life.
Freddie left the temple and, after giving Noire a brief warning, launched herself into the air and flew away at unbelievable speed back to the palace.
They arrived in less than an hour, landing in the private courtyard. Gael immediately rushed toward them and helped Noire get Elianne down. Dismounting, Noire said, "Lord Yann will be behind us. He is frantic with worry."
"As he should be," Gael said, then turned and carried Elianne into the palace. Noire followed after him, but drew to a halt when he saw where they were headed: through the golden doors into the Sanctuary, the glass-domed room that contained the Sacred Oak. Only the Triad was permitted into the Sanctuary unless they bid others join them.
Freddie looked back over her shoulder when she realized Noire had fallen back. "Come on, Voice. If this is as dire as we fear, then you will be needed. It is best you stay well-apprised."
"Yes, highness," Noire said and raced to keep up with them.
They paused as they reached the doors, and Gael spoke to one of the guards. "Lord Yann will be arriving in the private courtyard. When he arrives, take him to the queen's solar and bid him speak to no one. Stay with him to ensure it."
"Yes, highness," the guard said, and he swept a deep bow before striding off to carry out the orders.
Freddie stepped up to the golden doors and said a handful of soft words in Ancient. Something clicked, and the door parted. Pulling them open, Freddie led the way inside.
Noire could not help, but gasp as he stepped into the Sanctuary. He could feel the power, feel its age. The grass beneath his feet was bright green and lush, and the walls were covered with climbing roses all the way up to the very edge of the enormous glass dome. Moonlight poured down on the great tree in the very center of the Sanctuary, the Great Oak that had seen so much tragedy.
It looked petrified, Noire realized—except toward the base, where he could see a bit of real color and health.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Gael said softly, making him jump. "As the ceremony approaches, the tree will regain its life, though its branches will remain bare until the ceremony succeeds. Every one hundred years, it starts to come back to life, only to be turned once more into stone. Let us hope that this time, we'll succeed." Gael smiled tightly, then resumed walking, Freddie and Noire trailing behind him.
He stopped directly behind the tree and laid Elianne down in the grass. Noire jumped, crying out when vines abruptly sprang from the ground to wrap around her ankles, wrists, and stomach, lilies blooming in the grass above her head. "What's going on?"
"She's been poisoned," Gael said. "I can feel that it was there. Unfortunately, her body has already broken the poison down. I cannot undo what the poison has already done. We will have to hope she wakes on her own in a few days. In the meantime, the Sanctuary is the best place for her. It will sustain and protect her, and if something more happens, we will know it."
Footsteps drew all their attention, and Noire promptly dropped to his knees and bowed his head low.
"Freddie, Gael, whatever is going on?" Etain, the Faerie Queen, had a soft, sweet voice. All who heard her were typically calmed by it, and she could touch the minds of all the faerie children.
She was breathtaking to look upon, as pale as Freddie, Gael, and the Beasts. Her hair was touched with silver and gold and fell all the way to her knees, bound in an elaborate braid. Her eyes were a constant swirl of color, never settling on one for long, and as brilliant as the translucent butterfly-like wings on her back.
"Etain," Gael said quietly, and Noire looked away as Gael kissed the back of her hand. "Someone has poisoned the White Eagle. I do not know what poison, nor what purpose it was meant to serve."
Freddie scowled when she said, "We found her in a sneak hole in an old private temple on her property. Her manservant was killed, and we think he died thinking he was saving her, though that is only supposition."
"I see," Etain said quietly, looking troubled. Gathering up her elaborate, shimmering white skirts, she went and sat down in the grass beside Elianne. Pulling Elianne's head into her lap, Etain laid a hand on her brow and closed her eyes.
A few minutes later, she opened them again and settled Elianne on the grass once more. She lifted a hand, and Gael took it, helping her to her feet. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek.
Noire looked down at Elianne, reached up to touch the silver, teardrop shaped cravat pin holding the elaborate folds of black fabric in place. He did not look up again until Etain said, "Her mind is silent. She is deeply asleep, and I cannot say when—or if—she will wake. We must find the cause of this."
"I will take care of it," Gael said. "The White Eagle falls under my dominion, and she was mine to care for, so I will handle the matter. Should we tell anyone else?"
Freddie shook her head. "Not yet; I think nothing will come of alarming the other Beasts. They have enough strain with the approaching ceremony. Let us see what your investigation reveals. If you are willing to take a suggestion ... "
"Of course,"
Gael said.
"Use Ailill for it," Freddie said. "He has been out of the country all this time; he has no attachment to the rest of us, not the way we are attached to each other. Someone capable of poisoning a Beast must be close to them, and we are all so close to each other that we will too easily miss something we should see."
Gael nodded. "I see your point and agree completely. Thank you. Noire, are you up to taking a message?"
"Of course," Noire said, and he drew himself up.
"Inform Lord Ailill that he is to report to me and Freddie after morning ceremonies in the green court room."
Noire knelt, bowed his head, and said, "As you bid, highness. By your leave, I will depart now."
"Go," Gael said, and Noire fled, eager to help, desperate to get away from the image of Etain twining her arms through Gael's as the Triad continued to discuss the matter.
Chapter Four: The Duke of Vaklov
Ailill yawned as he entered the palace, longing to be back in bed. What was the point of being a White Beast if he must continuously get up early? He would give away his entire fortune just to be allowed to sleep and wake at his leisure.
Yawning again, he looked around the busy receiving hall, trying to puzzle out which desk he was meant to approach. Though he had visited the other day and had it all explained to him, the entire thing still made no sense. Being a White Beast had been much easier abroad, where most of the people he encountered did not know how a White Beast was meant to behave.
In Verde, however, everyone knew—except Ailill. He was meant to meet directly with Freddie and Gael, which meant he could skip all the desks where commoners lined up to attend various court hearings, lodge complaints, and so forth.
Finally giving up, he decided the ostentatious desk all the way in the back and off to the right was his safest bet. Approaching it, he handed over one of the calling cards that had started mysteriously appearing in his jackets when he put them on and said, "I have an appointment with the prince and princess."
