by Brux, Boone
Instead of heading up the spiral staircase that had handrails fashioned into dragons, Siban lead Rell to a door that sat behind the stairwell, partially hidden. Beyond the door the hall was a comfortable width, not narrow as she expected. Small, arched windows illuminated the walk along an extension that connected whatever was at the end to the main building.
Siban slowed. A door carved with vines and flowers stood before them.
“These are my chambers.” He reached for the forged handle and settled on the metal. He turned to her. “Outside of Rhys and Nattie, nobody has ever been inside.” He smiled, almost as if he was embarrassed. “Until now I’ve never wanted to share it with anybody.”
“I’m glad you’ve chosen me,” Rell said, her interest piqued.
He pressed his thumb against the latch and pushed the door open. What she expected was a dark and sparse room. When he opened the door it was as if he’d opened up a passage to another world. On three walls glass reached from floor to ceiling and sunlight lay bands of white gold across the stone floor. The forth wall was solid stone. A huge hearth stretched from the center outward, taking up a third of the wall.
She stepped inside, surprised by how warm the afternoon sun made the room. “It’s an atrium.”
“Yes. Rhys let me stay here after I returned.” He followed her inside. “The glass helped me to not feel closed in and the vibrations of the plants soothed the darkness.”
A tree grew in the center of the room and beneath it sat Siban’s bed. The canopy was draped in green chiffon, with a border of darker green velvet around the bottom edge. A thick duvet of the same green velvet covered the mattress and the head of the bed was piled high with sumptuous pillows.
Rell circled the tree and the bed, running her hand across the top of the soft material. “It’s beautiful.”
He smirked. “I’ve spent many a sleepless night here.”
“And hopefully you’ll spend many more.” Her hand drifted up the poster and she leaned against it. “But this time I’ll be here to get you through those hours.”
“I think I’d like that very much.”
She gave him a coy smile. “As would I.”
Her gaze continued around the atrium. Among the plants sat a large wardrobe. Vines grew over the top, making it blend in as if part of nature. Stone paths branched out from the middle of the room and between them grew various plants and flowers. Two white butterflies flittered among the late-season blooms. Each piece of furniture blended so well within the living vegetation, that Rell wouldn’t have been surprised to see a bird perched in the tree.
A large table near the window caught her eye. Bottles and glazed clay dishes sat in neat order and a glass filled with paintbrushes rested on a smaller table. Sheets of paper lay spread in orderly disarray on the top. She turned to him, her brow crinkling. “Do you paint?”
“Yes.” He joined her at the table and lifted one of the pieces of parchment. “I stopped for a while but had begun again before I left for Faela.”
The garden beyond his window stood out in striking detail. Though the flowers were now fading with the onset of fall, Rell could imagine exactly what the lovely garden had looked like when in full bloom.
“It’s beautiful.” She touched a bright red poppy. “I feel as if I can almost smell them.”
He pulled another sheet from under the pile, looked at it, and after a few seconds handed it to her.
“Oh, Siban.” She set the garden painting aside and gingerly took the picture from him. “It’s me.” Indeed it was—had been—her. The image was of her Bane form, the familiar features so defined it was as if Rell the demon still lived upon this page. She followed the curve of the tiny horns with the tip of her finger. Her eyes were almond-shaped, but they were human, not reptilian like the rest of the Bane. “You’ve made me beautiful.”
“You were beautiful to me.” He stood behind her and stared down at the picture. “I must have drawn your image a hundred times over the last year. When I would wake from a bad dream I’d get up and sketch your image as I remembered you.” His hand caressed her upper arm. “Thinking of you always drove the nightmares away.”
She set the picture back on the table and turned to him, winding her arms around his neck. “Thank you for sharing your world with me.”
He bent and kissed her, the contact gently brushing her lips. “Thank you for giving me back my world.” They kissed again and then he released her. “You realize these are our chambers now. You can change them however you’d like.”
“I wouldn’t change a thing, Siban. It’s perfect exactly how it is.” She paused and looked around. “Except for maybe another wardrobe and a chair of my own so we may sit by each other.”
“You’re too easy to please.” He took her hand and led her to the windows. “These can be cold during the winter, so I will have drapes fashioned.” Tugging her behind him, he walked down the path to the left, seemingly excited about the prospect of redecorating the atrium. “Perhaps an area for your interests.” He stopped and looked at her. “What do you like to do? Do you sew?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do I look like I sew?”
His gaze tracked down and back up her body. “Thankfully, no.”
“How about—” She released his hand and stepped onto a circular area about twelve feet in diameter. “A sparring field.”
“You wish to do battle in our chambers?”
“I like to think of it as training.” She spun and imitated slashing with her sword.
On her downward swing, Siban caught her arm. “How about instead of a sparring field we turn it into a nursery?”
Rell blinked several times, her arm growing slack. “You want to have children?”
“I want to have children with you.” He drew her to him. “Don’t you?”
Did she? With the way her life had been she’d never even given it a thought. What kind of mother would she be? “I don’t know.” She laid her hands against his chest and stared into his eyes. “If I did, I would want them with you.”
“Then that’s all we need to know now.” A sweet smile spread across his face. “We’ve still much to do before I could feel comfortable bringing a child into the world.”
A sigh escaped her. “Speaking of which, we should probably get cleaned up and go see what the plans are.”
“Yes.” His mouth captured hers and his tongue swept inside, sending a thrill through her that made her want to lock the door and ignore the world for a few hours. But the kiss was brief. “Let’s go see what’s stewing within Alba Haven.”
She sighed again and let Siban guide her out of their magical chambers.
Loud voices emanated from what was obviously the kitchen. Pots and pans clattered, Nattie’s commands rising above the noise. “He has missed you something terrible. Squawking for hours on end.”
Rell entered the kitchen to see Ravyn and Rhys sitting at a long wooden table. Perched on Ravyn’s shoulder was the most beautiful bird she’d ever seen. Brilliant red-and-orange feathers flowed like fiery lace down its tail and bright golden eyes peered intelligently around.
“I’ve missed him too,” Ravyn cooed, feeding the bird bits of bread from her hand.
Mesmerized, Rell slid into the seat across from her. “What’s his name?”
“Beacon.” Ravyn stroked a finger along the bird’s head. “I found him in the market place before I left for Faela.”
The content smile on Rhys’s face as he watched Ravyn and the bird warmed Rell. He truly loved her. That much was obvious.
“What kind is he?” The urge to stroke the bird itched at Rell’s fingers. “I’ve never seen his like.”
“He’s a Firebrand.” Ravyn looked at her. “Would you like to hold him?”
“Could I?” She was standing before she finished the question. Rell skirted the table and straddled the bench to face the bird on Ravyn’s left side. “He’s so beautiful.”
A low gurgle purred from the bird’s throat.
“I think he likes you,” Rhys said.
“Hold out your arm.” Ravyn turned on the bench and touched her forearm with Rell’s. “If he’s in a good mood, he’ll climb onto you.”
With rocking steps, Beacon scooted down Ravyn’s arm and onto Rell. “He’s heavier than he looks.” Rell stroked his head and her eyes widened. “And so warm.”
“That’s the Firebrand in him.”
“Have the children seen him yet?” Rell asked.
“Oh yes.” Nattie chuckled. “Delphina had to carry him out of the kitchen when I was showing them to their chambers.” She sighed. “It’s nice having young ones at Alba Haven again.”
As Rell caressed the bird’s soft head it settled on her shoulder and nestled against her hair. Perhaps because she’d once had wings herself, she connected with Beacon on a level deeper than animal and human.
The rest of the group entered the kitchen. Instantly the women crowded around Rell and Ravyn, oohing over the beautiful bird.
“Really, the fuss you make over that bird.” The harsh tone of Nattie’s words was tempered by the adoring look she gave Beacon. “He’s such a bother when you’re not here.”
“I’m sorry, Nattie.” Ravyn winked at Rell. “We’ll take him with us on our next journey.”
“To the Frost Lands?” She thunked a jug of wine onto the table. “I should say you won’t. That bird would freeze to death before you even reached the boundary.” Next she shoved a tray of goblets next to the wine and gave a long-suffering sigh. “I guess I could take care of him while you’re gone.”
“Thank you, Nattie, that’s so kind of you.” Ravyn’s expression was serious, but humor laced her words.
“Well, I’m a kind person,” Nattie said.
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
Rell turned to see a little man with exceptionally large feet shuffle into the room. His hair was sparse but his eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief.
Rhys rose. “Jaspar, it’s great to see you.”
“It is great to be seen, my lord.” The old man descended to a low bow and slowly rose again. “I hear you’ve had quite the trip.”
“Quite.” Rhys took his seat again. “And what has been happening at Alba Haven while I’ve been gone.”
“Naught but Nattie’s blustering, my lord.”
Nattie harrumphed, but said nothing further, keeping her attention on the task of peeling potatoes.
Jaspar shuffled to the table and lifted a goblet of wine from the tray. “I believe Geoffrey has fetched what you requested.”
A few seconds later loud voices wafted in from the outer hall, giving Rell the impression that Jaspar either knew of the monk’s arrival or he was a Tell.
“Where are they?” The monk’s voice grew louder. “Where are the angels?”
“I guess that means us,” Ravyn said.
The three sisters stood and formed a line in the center of the kitchen, waiting for the monk to arrive. When he saw them, his eyes widened and drifted to the ceiling. With folded hands, he inched toward them, and once he stood a foot away, he lowered to his knees and kissed each one of their boots.
Juna rolled her eyes, but Meran watched him with eyes of a woman who was used to her followers adoration. When he sat back on his feet, she bent and grasped his arm. “There’s no need for such formality within these walls, Brother.”
The monk struggled to his feet, his eyes never leaving her face. “I thought I’d not live to see the arrival of the angels.” He covered Meran’s hand with his. “You are here to save us.”
“Come, sit.” Ravyn indicated the bench at the table. “Have some ale. You must be thirsty.”
“Thank you, my lady. You’re generosity humbles me.” He took the goblet from her and downed the contents in one gulp, giving his lips a satisfying smack afterward. “Excellent, just excellent.”
Rell looked at Siban, raising her eyebrows in question. At the city gates Malachi had seemed irrational, but now the man appeared as sane as she was.
“Brother Malachi,” Rhys began, “we’re very interested in what you were saying by the gates.” He picked up the pitcher and refilled the good Brother’s goblet. “Can you explain your prophecy?”
“A legion to lead us.” He directed his cup at the women. “Three to triumph.”
“Yes, exactly,” Juna said, taking a seat. “What exactly do you mean by legion?”
“I am only the messenger, my lady. I do not labor to understand.” He took another long draw of the ale.
“Well—” She scowled. “That’s convenient.”
“However,” Malachi interjected, “I do know from where the prophecy comes.” He waved his hand at the ceiling. “One such as you painted the sky.”
“Could you elaborate a little bit, Brother.” Juna leaned forward and rested her palms on the table. “Who do you mean one such as us?”
The monk turned over his palms. Though there was no sun emblems tattooed on his palms, all gathered seemed to know what he was talking about.
“A Bringer painted the mural in Alba Haven?”
“Yes, to mark the beginning of the end. When the planets align, the scourge will bleed our land of blood and spirit.”
“If one wanted to take that literally,” Rell said, “it sounds like the Bane plan on turning a lot more people into minions.”
“The Bane! The scourge,” Malachi shouted.
Meran laid a gentle hand on the monk’s shoulder. “Do you know who painted the mural, Brother Malachi?”
“He who wrote the word. He who spread his protection.” Malachi took another drink and swallowed. “The scourge steals our souls and puts them in a pretty box so he can take them out to taunt and play with.”
“Do you mean the Demon King?” Siban asked.
“Yes, yes, vile, vile creature.”
“Is the pretty box you’re talking about the Abyss?” Juna asked.
The monk shook his head vigorously. “No, the pretty, cold box holds no sinners, only saviors.”
“The captured Bringers?” Luc asked the group instead of Malachi. “And the ice.
“Where is the pretty box, Brother?” Ravyn’s voice was gentle, but the compulsion she used brushed against Rell with surprising force.
“The box is cold and hidden.” He held out his glass for a refill. “None dare travel to find it.”
“Is it…” Siban paused, his gaze leveling on the monk. “In the Frost Lands.”
“Yes, where the snow never melts.” He brought the goblet to his mouth but didn’t drink. “But it’s dangerous there. Those who seek never return.”
“So Vile has, or is taking, the Bringers to the Frost Lands. We had figured that already.” Juna heaved a heavy sigh and thunked back against her chair. “What else can you tell us, Brother Malachi—anything that can help us?”
He stared into his drink for a few seconds and then lifted his head to look directly at her. Rell was struck by how intelligent and focused his gaze seemed, as if a veil had lifted and he was suddenly cognizant. “My Brothers guard the entrance to the Threshold. Be warned, they are not gentle of nature like me. Travel beyond the boundary city.” An instant later his eyes glazed over and he focused again on his ale and muttered into his cup, “The angels are here.”
“It’s almost as if he has brief periods of lucidity.” Meran turned away from the man. “As if something is blocking his memory.”
“Perhaps if we tried to heal him he would remember more,” Jade said.
“It’s worth a try, but we’ve had a long day, and we have an early start tomorrow morning.” Gregory turned to Rhys. “Would it be possible to lodge Brother Malachi here tonight? I think he might be a good addition to our party.”
“Of course.” Rhys watched the old man lay claim to the rest of his drink. “I think you’re right. He may still have information for us.”
“I’ll send somebody to ready a chamber for him.” Nattie set down her knife and bustled out of the kitchen.
“Maybe we should go to bed right now.” Siban yawned unconvincingly. “I’m rather tired.”
“For the love of Saints,” Nattie said, walking back into the kitchen. “Let the poor girl eat before you work up her appetite again.”
Rell blushed, mortified at being the center of their attention.
“You’ll get used to it.” Ravyn said, taking Beacon from her. “Just be thankful Nattie hasn’t woken you up in the morning.” She leaned closer. “Lock your door if you have one.”
“The bigger the bolt the better,” Rhys added.
“Don’t listen to them, Rell. The whole lot of them are a bunch of liars.” When Nattie went back to peeling potatoes, Ravyn gave a conspiratorial shake of her head. “I saw that.”
Siban leaned toward her. “I hope you won’t be too tired after we eat.”
“Too tired for what,” she whispered.
A wicked smile spread across his lips. “Dessert.”
A warm flush crept up her neck. “I’m fairly certain that whatever dessert you have in mind I will not be too tired for.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
They departed Alba Haven at sunup. Rhys led the party on Sampson. The black horse appeared very happy to be outside of Alba Haven and reunited with his rider.
Most of the city’s inhabitants still slept, but a few shop owners were out, sweeping the filth of the previous day’s business away from their doorstep.
Rell yawned and rubbed her eyes. More than anything, Siban wished they were still in their bed under the tree, making love.
A loud braying erupted from Malachi’s donkey. Probably from having to pull the small wagon and its load of children, Delphina, and Malachi.
“My thoughts exactly, Penelope,” the monk said. “There’s a foul feel on the breeze this morning.”
“That’s last night’s ale coming back to greet you, Brother Malachi,” Luc said.
“Not so, my lord.” Malachi turned in his saddle. “I had but two mugs before dinner”
“But,” Luc continued, “how many did you have after we retired?”
