Golden Apple, The

by Diener, Michelle

Her eyes opened again, this time with a snap, their focus clear and sharp. She blinked at the sight of him, then her gaze fell to the apple, resting against the back of her hand.

  “It healed me.” Her voice was a strange mixture of horror and relief.

  Rane looked down at the thing. Thought of how badly Jasper wanted it. How he was willing even to let Soren go in exchange for it, and understanding hit him.

  “What did it heal?” He drew off his glove and laid a finger on it. Felt a strange, unpleasant tingle, and lifted his hand.

  “My legs, my feet. They were broken.” She struggled up, bent a knee and kneaded her slippered foot with a hand. “I hit the ground so hard, I heard the bones snap.”

  Suddenly, she gasped. “What is happening?”

  Rane frowned. There was nothing happening, and that was wrong. The King’s men should be here, the princess’s ladies-in-waiting. He turned, and saw the crowd standing ten feet away from them.

  They were staring in open-mouthed amazement.

  Rane stood, held out a hand, and helped Kayla to her feet. The front of her gossamer white dress was caked in mud, her body plastered with it.

  She barely came to his shoulder.

  Standing there, he felt the creeping sense there was something undone. Some task he needed to complete.

  “The light,” she said.

  He looked down at her. “The light?”

  “From the apple. It’s keeping the crowd back.”

  Rane focused on the apple, still lying in the mud at their feet. It glowed like a fire, its light difficult to see in the bright sunshine, but there all the same, encasing them in its golden rays.

  Kayla shivered, then clutched him as the day seemed to dim and flicker, as if the sun were a candle flame, blowing in the wind.

  “The light’s gone now,” she said.

  Rane looked up and saw what had replaced it was much, much worse.

  Chapter Three

  A man strode onto the field, pushing aside anyone in his way, using his staff to clear his path, sending men and women tumbling.

  Kayla’s grip on Rane’s arm tightened.

  The man stopped just short of them, and Kayla saw he was incredibly handsome. His hair was almost white blond, his eyes shockingly dark.

  “What is this?” He spoke as if he had a right to ask, as if he’d ordered them to do something else, and they had disobeyed him.

  Kayla felt a flare of anger at his tone, and from the way Rane stiffened under her fingers, he did, too. But beneath her sense of outrage, was another, hovering sense that this man did have a right.

  She saw his eyes flick over both of them, as if searching for something, and then focus on the ground. On the apple.

  He took a step closer, to pick it up, and Rane stepped to block him. His movement spoke of suppressed violence. Of perfect control.

  It occurred to her that he did not seem very like a secretary and a poet any more.

  “You will regret standing in my way.” The stranger’s eyes narrowed.

  Rane bent and picked up the apple with his other, gloved hand.

  “I took this apple from the princess of Gaynor in a test of skill.” Rane lifted the apple up and looked at it curiously. “It belongs to me.”

  Kayla gaped at him. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, this was not it. What did either of them care for the odious apple? He had fought to win her, surely? The apple was irrelevant.

  “Something isn’t right.” The stranger was staring at them both. His black cloak rippled about him, and Kayla felt the icy hand of fear brush the back of her neck. The breeze had died half an hour ago. The mid-morning was airless and there was no playful wind to make his cloak dance.

  He drew both hands up, his staff raised, and the day darkened again, just as it had when he’d arrived.

  “Halt.”

  Her father’s voice carried enough weight, enough power, to make even the stranger freeze.

  “Step back, Eric the Bold.”

  At the mention of the stranger’s name, there was a gasp from the crowd, and as a single body, they backed away from him. Some ran.

  “King Haren. What mischief have you wrought?” Eric lowered his arms, and the daylight seeped back into the sky. “What have you done to my golden apple?”

  “The question is what have you done, Eric?” Her father looked gaunt. Years older than he’d been just yesterday. “It was a simple prize, you said. The initial lure, a foretaste of what could be gained. They would know even if I found a way to weasel out of my promises, it was a solid reason to enter the contest.”

  Eric’s lips thinned. “I hold the power here, Haren. I told you what I wished to tell you. You do not question me.”

  “Lure?” Kayla heard the chill of a midwinter wind in Rane’s voice. “What do you mean, lure?”

  Was it her imagination, or were his words weary and bitter. Disenchanted.

  Eric the Bold turned back to them. She noticed his hand gripped the top of his staff, his knuckles showing white.

  “You cheated,” he said, his lips drawn back over his teeth like a snarling dog. “You must have cheated.”

  Rane looked at her. The first time since he’d stepped forward to claim the apple. There was deep regret in his eyes, and she suddenly felt cold little shivers of fear, of panic, running down her spine.

  “There was no other way to win. The task was impossible.” He kept his eyes on her, but she could not hold his gaze.

  “I expected the winner to cheat. To be inventive. But you ruined it, somehow. What did you do?” Without warning, Eric lifted his staff and pressed the end to Rane’s chest. “What did you do?” He tapped the staff against Rane with every word.

  Kayla looked from her father, stark-faced, a stranger to her now, at the powerful stranger he’d called Eric the Bold, and at the darkest stranger of them all, Rane De’Villier.

  She swallowed, tried to focus through the ringing in her ears, the heavy weight of betrayal pressing on her chest. What a fool she had been. What a fool.

  She stepped forward, waited for every eye to be on her. Drew herself tall.

  “He used me.”

  * * *

  Rane realized the dark wizard called Eric the Bold was still pointing his staff at him, and with a sharp movement of his arm he flicked it away.

  He knew who Eric was, no one who’d ever lived in Jasper’s stronghold could escape that name. But he’d always imagined he’d look like Jasper’s brother, Nuen. Thin, crabbed and sly.

  That he stood as high as Rane himself, was as broad in the shoulders and well-muscled, should have been in his favor. But his eyes took away any advantage of his physique. They were pure evil. Power concentrated to a point of no return.

  Rane reluctantly looked away from him to Kayla, felt guilt tighten his chest.

  She stood with her hands crossed under her breasts, and he realized she had forgotten she was covered in mud. Her posture regal, every line in her body screamed contempt and disdain for all of them.

  “As the princess says, I gained my aid from her.”

  Eric’s attention fixed on Kayla. “Princess?”

  “She was ripped from her chair and slid down your mountain.” The King spoke in tones so measured and cold, Rane glanced at him, waiting for him to lose hold of his control. “You guaranteed she would not be hurt. I have to say I’m amazed to see her standing.” His voice broke on the last word.

  Kayla’s gaze snapped to him, a frown on her face.

  “She broke her feet and legs when she landed.” Rane watched Eric with hooded eyes. If the wizard was responsible for Kayla’s fall from the mountain, the king would have to stand in line.

  “The apple pulled me off the mountain, and the apple healed me.” Kayla finally glanced towards him, but her eyes were on the apple in his hand, not his face.

  Eric turned white, his skin almost the same shade as his hair. “If the apple pulled you off, it means you touched it…” He lifted his hand, as if to strike h
er.

  Rane moved his ungloved hand to his sword.

  “A sword won’t stop me.” Eric focused on Rane and suddenly Rane’s feet were rooted to the spot. He could not move. Could do nothing. He was a statue—

  With a jerk, he was released. Ridiculously, he had to gulp for air.

  “You’ve ruined everything.” Eric jabbed a finger at Rane, and when he lowered it to stroke his staff there was a tremble in his hand. He flicked a glance at Kayla, and Rane wanted to put himself in front of her, smash in the sorcerer’s teeth. There was something of the swamp in Eric’s eye.

  Rane saw the sorcerer’s jaw work. Eric was grinding his teeth. “There is nothing for it. The princess will have to go with you.”

  “No.” The King of Gaynor’s cry was tormented. “She was to stay out of this.”

  “She interfered. You interfered, too, didn’t you, old man?” Eric still hadn’t unclamped his jaw, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “You thought changing the rules, making the contest for her hand in marriage would change things. You were right. They are changed.” His fingers clenched around the staff. “For both of us, they are changed for the worse.”

  Rane looked between the two men. The conversation did not bode well for a quick hand-over of the apple to Jasper in exchange for Soren, and then he’d be on his way.

  He was going to regret this question. “Go where?”

  Chapter Four

  They assembled in her father’s chamber, Kayla later than the others, because she’d had to wash the mud off and change.

  They didn’t sit in the comfortable chairs beside the fire, but at what she’d always thought of as the Council of War table.

  And the phrase was more than apt now.

  Kayla looked at the golden apple, placed before Rane, and again felt the whisper of disquiet, a panicked feeling that she’d forgotten something, had failed to complete what was required of her.

  She noticed Rane’s gaze was focused on it as well, and then suddenly, she was ensnared by the intense blue of his eyes. Before she wrenched away, she thought the terrible, heart-pounding sense of a task left unfinished was something they shared.

  “The apple holds you.” Eric the Bold watched her from across the table, and Kayla saw the anger rise like a riptide across his features as he spoke.

  “Just tell us what spell you imbued in my damn apple, and let’s be done with it.” Rane’s voice was cold, hard. Completely emotionless.

  She really had not known him. How could she, in three days? And yet she’d thought she did.

  “At the moment you feel uncomfortable. Ill at ease. By tomorrow, you will be agitated. You will be compelled to undertake a task for me.” Eric leant back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. The action was measured, his fingers still, but Kayla had the sense he was exercising huge control to keep them from shaking with rage.

  “Because of your interference,” he dipped his head in her direction, “the apple has enchanted you both. The task of taking the apple off the mountain was only accomplished because you worked together. You will both have to go.” He sucked in a deep breath, and suddenly slammed clenched fists on the table. Ground them into the smooth wood.

  Rane leant forward, the movement easy. “And if we don’t?”

  “You will go mad.” A thread of spiteful malice ran through the frustration in Eric’s voice.

  Kayla watched him, at the rage thrumming through him at having his plans foiled, and wondered what plan he’d had in mind for her before she interfered.

  A long, slow shiver ran down her spine.

  It gave her a sense of dark satisfaction that she had to go, then, despite the company she would have to keep.

  “And when we have undertaken the task?” Kayla mirrored Eric, placing fisted hands on the table.

  “When you have found the item I need and given it to me, the apple’s enchantment will end.” Eric paused, and then looked sidelong at her father, sitting like stone throughout the conversation, eyes closed. “And you are all free to do as you please.”

  “What is this item, and why don’t you get it yourself?” Rane’s voice was quiet.

  “A jewel. Held by a witch.”

  Kayla stared at him. “You want us to ask her for it?”

  Rane gave a dry laugh. “If it were that easy, he’d have done it himself. Instead he’s staged this elaborate charade to find someone with the guts and skill to get things that are impossible to get, and enchanted his golden apple to make sure they undertake his…task. You can be sure the only way to get this jewel will be to steal it.”

  Eric clapped his hands, the sound jerking her father from his thoughts. “Bravo. I am, as it happens, too powerful. Ylana will sense me long before I reach her door. I need someone with no magical power. Someone who would be able to get my jewel the hard way.”

  The hard way.

  There was an ominous ring to the expression.

  Rane stared down at the apple again. Kayla thought he sagged for a moment, just one blink of the eye, then straightened again. All hard eyes and sneering mouth.

  “Where does this witch live?”

  “The Great Forest.” Eric spoke quietly, this time. As well he should.

  Kayla found herself half-standing before she realized she’d left her chair. Rane was already up and her father had drawn a dagger, pointing it at Eric’s throat. If the king had not dismissed the guards from the room, Eric would have had two swords at his throat, as well.

  “You would send my daughter into the Great Forest?” The dagger shook along with her father’s arm.

  “I don’t want her to go.” Eric ignored the knife, his focus on her father’s face. “There is no choice. Do you want her a gibbering madwoman? Unless she goes, that is what she will become.”

  “Because of you! Because you enchanted that apple.” With a cry, her father raised the dagger and plunged it into the table.

  For a moment, they all watched it quiver like a live thing in the wood.

  “You know our chances in the Great Forest.” Rane’s words were bitter.

  “I would rather the witch lived anywhere else. Anywhere but that hell-begotten place.” Eric lifted his hands and ran them through his hair. “I cannot set foot there, myself. I’m not welcome.”

  “Then we have no choice.” Rane stepped away from the table. Looked across at her. “Let’s be going. I have a pressing need for this apple. The sooner I’m clear of any enchantments, the better.” He lifted the apple with a bare hand, not flinching, and then locked gazes with Eric. “Do I have your word when you have the jewel, the apple is mine?”

  Eric brushed his hand over his staff, and Kayla thought suddenly how ridiculous the gesture was. It was affected, as if he were fifty years older than he was.

  “You have my word.”

  Rane made no reply to that. He stood, quite still, his lean, muscled frame taking up more room than it should. He turned back to her.

  “Be ready to leave in half an hour. Wear men’s clothing so you don’t slow us down.” He made for the door, and Kayla gaped at his back, too stunned to move.

  Her father took a step towards him, his gait unsteady. “Who do you think you are, to talk to my daughter that way?”

  Rane put his hand on the door knob, looked over his shoulder and gave a grim smile. “Sir, by your own announcement, I am her betrothed.”

  * * *

  Her betrothed.

  This morning, it would have been her dream come true. Now it was a nightmare that had no end in sight.

  He was serious about leaving immediately, and she wondered why he needed the apple so badly. She frowned. Payment for a gaming debt, perhaps? Or he had a buyer for it.

  Or perhaps, like her, the terrible sense of panic at not being underway drove him.

  She reached back to loosen the ties on her gown. Gertie had unknotted them for her before going off in search of men’s clothing, muttering under her breath as she went. Kayla eased loose the top two eyelets and stilled.<
br />
  Turned to the door.

  Her father stood there, and pain stabbed her straight through the heart.

  He fidgeted like a stranger. Like a man who was unsure of his welcome.

  “Yes?” She hated her tone. Hated the sharp edge to it. She was incapable of stopping herself. Hurt and betrayal had honed her voice fine as a razor’s tip.

  “I don’t want you to go alone with De’Villier.” He finally took a step into the room. “Especially into the Great Forest.”

  That made two of them. She didn’t want to be alone with De’Villier either. And the Forest was the dream-scape of her nightmares. “You’ve made him my betrothed, Father. There is little enough between marriage and betrothal as it is. And the circumstances—”

  “To hell with the circumstances!”

  She jumped at his shout. Had to exert incredible control to keep herself steady.

  “What would you have me do? Take Gertie? Take a knight? A cook? A stablehand?” She tossed her head. “Take a crowd into the Forest, when we need to be thieves in the night? When the price of failure is my descent into madness?” She fisted her hands. She could feel the tug of desperation, the enchantment, growing stronger. Could well imagine what would happen to her if she failed to go, and go quickly. “De’Villier may be a liar and a user, but he seems to know what he’s doing.”

  “You always were headstrong.” Her father rubbed his hands over his face. “I encouraged it, I know. Thought it delightful. Loved the way you sent every suitor on his way. If your mother were alive, she’d no doubt have reined you in more.”

  “That would have suited you better, if I’d been more docile. When you tried to sell me off for the price of a golden apple.”

  “Not just a golden apple. The kingdom, too.” His correction was soft. “Don’t forget, De’Villier becomes the next king.”

  “No.” She pointed a finger. “Don’t you forget.” She drew in a deep breath. Let it out in an explosive rush. “Why? Why did you do it?”

  “Do you think I had a choice?” His words came out in a hiss of frustration. “Eric made it very clear. Find him a knight up to the job he needed, or…”