Culdun had appeared just as she was preparing an elaborate excuse. He shooed her two attendants away, muttering something about silly nieces, and assured Angelique that she need take no notice of their silence; it was simply that they were more afraid of her than she was of this dinner.
A grateful smile answered his jest, and feeling slightly less adrift, Angelique followed him downstairs. After he left her in a parlor that was nearly as large as the ground floor of Aloysius' house, however, she again began to feel her insecurities rise. She barely noticed the embroidered chairs and expensive carpets, so intent was she on keeping silent. Her odd habit of talking to herself had a decided risk in a place such as this. So she concentrated instead on the heat from the fire, trying to warm her chilled fingers.
She held the silver rose, ever mindful of its thorns, but unaware of its delicate beauty in the flickering light. She closed her eyes, pressing a hand to the flat of her stomach and forcing a few even breaths. Just when she felt she was beginning to relax, the sound of a voice startled her into nervousness again.
"Are you well, my Lady?"
The tall, cloaked figure stood a few steps inside the doorway, a dark shadow silhouetted by wavering torch light. The stance was a nervous one, as hands clenched and weight shifted uncertainly. It had not occurred to Angelique until that moment that Drew would also be nervous.
"I am well," Angelique managed. "Only somewhat nervous."
Fists uncurled and weight settled. "That is understandable. Forgive me if I startled you."
"You did not." Suddenly, she remembered who she was addressing and gathered her skirts to sink into a hurried curtsy murmuring, "It is I who should beg forgiveness, my Liege."
"No!"
Angelique looked up without rising and waited. It was disconcerting to find that the cloak hid both shape and face of this stranger.
"Please." The other approached slowly. "Please get up."
Angelique rose, but the unspoken question of 'why’ remained between them.
"I would prefer we dispense with such formalities."
"If you like." Angelique smiled.
Drew's swift intake of breath was audible, and Angelique glanced at the gloved hand that clutched the chair's back. "My Liege?"
"Culdun said you were pretty, my Lady. But he never mentioned the sheer beauty of your smile."
Her chin lifted defiantly as Angelique remembered the overheard words and the feeling behind them: that beauty was not necessarily cherished here.
"Now I have insulted you. I am sorry. I find my manners suffer from lack of practice."
Almost unwillingly, that brought another small smile. "Your elegant apology belies any rudeness, my Liege."
"Then you were not insulted?"
Angelique ducked her head, hiding the urge to smile again The curiosity in that voice had been all too apparent, and she thought that interest could be to her advantage. Black-booted toes came into her vision, blocking her study of the carpet, and Angelique relented quietly, "No, my Liege. I was not insulted."
She raised her head, finally daring to seek the gaze of the noble.
She gasped, sharp and sudden, a hand going to her throat and her companion backed quickly away. The deep shadow hiding Drew's face was disconcerting. The stark contrast between white shirt and red cloak, which hung over Drew’s chest and was flung back across the other’s shoulders, was almost frightening. Crimson threads, embroidered in glistening vines, were stitched into the black velvet jerkin. But the rest was unadorned darkness. The supple leather of the short boots, the shimmering satin of loose trousers, the vest, the gloves — all brought her focus back again and again to the empty black void where a face ought to be.
"Are you even human?" The words came out in a hushed, frightened whisper.
Drew’s shoulders stiffened. The tall figure turned away. Trembling, Angelique watched, desperation growing into fear.
"I have been called many things. Some of them human, some — not."
"But," Angelique, denying the evasions, demanded, "are you a man?"
"No."
Angelique cried out. In her consternation she had failed to pay attention to the rose's silver thorns and they sliced into Angelique's fingers. The silver rose dropped, laced with blood, to the carpet.
Drew was beside her in two swift strides. Taking Angelique's hand in a gentle embrace, Drew massaged outward from Angelique's palm, and Angelique felt the pain diminish. With her free hand she wiped away tears, glancing up again at that darkness where Drew's face should be. The edges of that emptiness seemed blurred, and she was again reminded that this was a place of magick.
"You do have a face, don't you, my Liege?" Angelique ventured in a whisper. "The blackness is an... illusion?"
Drew's fingers paused for a moment then resumed their tender ministrations. "Yes, I have a face, if that's what's worrying you. Here now, is that better?"
Angelique stared at her palm, flexing her fingers. Neither a trace of blood nor scratch remained. She bent and carefullyretrieved the silver rose. A gloved hand covered her fingers again as she stood, and when it lifted, the crimson smudges were gone. The silver was sparkling and unblemished.
Her companion withdrew. Angelique felt guilt stir within her. She gazed at her hand and again at the rose. Her mother had been right: this was someone who knew tenderness. Yet she had offered only ignorant fear.
She grasped the tattered edges of her courage and came to stand before the hearth. Angelique could not blame the cowled figure for not acknowledging her, but it would have helped. She swallowed hard and offered, "I pray you may be patient with me my Liege. I have had little experience with magick and — and with those who are not-quite-mortal."
For a moment there was no response, and then Angelique was rewarded with a soft, rich chuckle. "I see you have been talking with Culdun."
"Have I misunderstood him?" Angelique breathed, entranced by that soft note of laughter.
"No, you have not. May I ask what else my dear friend has said of me?"
Angelique thought of the laws against poachers and the sanctuary given to the Old Ones. "He said you are a man of different perspective."
"A man of a different perspective..." The tone was one again hollow. The tension returned. "No, my Lady, I sincere doubt that Culdun would ever have said I was a man of any sort."
"Forgive me!" Impulsively she laid a hand on the silk-clad arm, forestalling an abrupt move away. "But then what should I call you?"
Drew shifted uncomfortably and, blushing at her impulsiveness, Angelique removed her hand. "Now you find me too brash."
"No. Just... startling." The words were spoken in a whisper. "I am amazed by your courage, my Lady. Few women have ever dared touch me."
Angelique frowned, then resolutely placed the silver rose in the palm of that black glove. "Has a woman not the right to touch the man who... the one who... " She stumbled over the words she feared would again cause pain. In frustration, Angelique repeated, "What shall I call you, my Liege?"
A breath, then two, passed and Drew slowly placed the rose on the mantel. "My name is Drew. I would be honored if you would use it."
"You are displeased with me?" Angelique gazed at the abandoned rose. "You're annulling our engagement?"
"No." It was spoken wearily, as was what came after. "I am merely uncertain if you know what you've agreed to."
"I will learn —"
"Yes." A sigh, a pause, then, "Learn you must, my Lady. For it will do neither of us any good if you... do not understand."
Angelique felt the weariness herself. Her head bent and, exhausted, she found herself close to tears.
"I have kept you from dinner —"
"No, please." Angelique shook her head. "It is not your company, my Liege. It is merely fatigue."
"Which has not been helped by my company." A mocking self-deprecation colored the words, but Angelique was too tired to argue. "You should be in bed, my Lady."
"Would you find it rude o
f me?"
"Not in the least." Drew's voice was warm and reassuring. "Can you find your way?"
Angelique nodded and managed a small smile. "Yes, Culdun was very explicit with his directions. But thank you."
"No, my Lady — thank you." The tall figure bent over her hand in a low bow.
"None of that." Impatiently Angelique tugged on the black-sheathed hand as a corner of mischief resurrected itself within her. "I thought we'd agreed to dispense with such nonsense?"
Drew laughed, a genuine hearty sound, and Angelique withdrew, feeling better about leaving with that warm laughter singing in her ears.
Chapter 5
"Oh, drat it all," muttered Angelique, spinning about on her heel. Hands on hips, she stepped to the side of the corridor and eyed the sunny garden court below with frustration. The babbling of the fountain wafted upwards with the cool breeze into the white, arching halls surrounding it.
This part of the palace was built in a square about that small, marble-floored garden. Her bedroom was on the third level across the hall from the open archways. Culdun had said the library was one floor up and around the comer. The winding staircases between floors, however, left Angelique feeling disoriented as none of them began or ended in exactly the same place on each floor.
She was lost. She had discovered just how lost she was when she had attempted to retrace her steps. So far she had found an unused parlor complete with dust covers, an exquisite sewing room with a marvelous selection of silks and wool as well as an abundant supply of needlework patterns, and a guest bedroom in need of a thorough cleaning. What she had not found, however, were her own rooms and the library.
"Well, I suppose somebody will come looking for me eventually," she muttered, bending over the railing again with a determined expression. The potted shrubbery with the fluffy red stalks could just possibly be the same one she'd been admiring before breakfast. She leaned out a bit further to get a good look around the post and saw the hanging baskets of purple flowers in the arches a level down. If she figured correctly, her room should be directly behind them. "Which means," she said, turning around, "the library should be right behind me."
The wide double doors reached to the ceiling and were centered in the long hallway. A smaller, single entry was visible further along on the left, but this was the entrance that invited use.
With the anticipation of success, Angelique grasped both handles and pushed the doors open. Relief mingled with delight when her eyes fell upon the tall, dark bookcases which flanked a wide oak desk. A pleasant breeze ruffled a sheath of parchment papers that were spread out on the desktop, and Angelique quickly closed the doors to stop the papers from blowing every which way.
With the great double doors shut, the little whirlwinds ceased and the papers settled. Sparkling sunlight and fresh air gently streamed in through the tall, open windows, bathing the desk with light that spilled like liquid gold down the sides of the polished oak and pooled on the gleaming floor boards. The familiar smell of leather bindings and book dust made her feel at ease and Angelique leaned back against the doors with a happy sigh. She had never seen so many books. Rows of shelves extended back into the shadows on the right, and they were filled with books and much, much more.
A small globe of stars, a brass sexton and a few other navigational tools she knew little about dominated one shelf, but just as she was about to move closer to explore, the slow tread of booted heels upon the wood floor stopped her. Glancing about, Angelique spied a small corridor to her left. At its end, she glimpsed the satin blue of a bed quilt and the elegant drapes of a canopy. Until this moment, she hadn't realized that the library was attached to persona quarters — and they looked as though they had been recently occupied.
Angelique, thinking quickly, folded her hands before her as her host appeared from the depths of one of the book aisles. Unaware of her presence, Drew, familiar cloak in place, bent over a book and paused beside the desk, a writing quill dangling from gloved fingers. Drew tapped the quill absently against the binding for a brief instant, then stopped.
Angelique coughed discreetly.
Drew looked up. "My Lady? What a pleasant surprise!" The book snapped shut as Drew turned to face Angelique fully. There was genuine welcoming warmth in Drew's voice.
"Good morning, Drew."
"It is a good morning. Are you feeling rested today?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"May I help you with something?" Drew closed the book and placed it on the desk. Cautiously, Angelique's host advanced a few paces then halted. "Or have you merely need of some company?"
"I didn't mean to intrude, my Liege. Actually, I was looking for the library."
"Ah," the figure turned about, "you have gotten yourself turned around. Not an uncommon problem here." Drew paused and gestured to the pleasant room. "Although this may look like the library, you've found my study instead. The library is just opposite, on the far side of the courtyard."
Angelique blushed and stammered an apology.
"No need to apologize. I'm afraid it's all too easy when you're new. Especially with the way the staircases keep moving about."
"Moving?" Angelique felt her frustration return in a flood. "You mean those damnable things have been shifting about all the while?"
"Culdun didn't tell you?" The other stepped nearer again.
"No, Culdun didn't tell me. Do you know I've been lost for a good twenty minutes!
Drew laughed, and Angelique glared rebelliously up into the dark, faceless void. "It is not funny!"
"No, you're right. It's not," the other admitted, but the smile did not fade from Drew's voice.
Exasperated, Angelique leaned against the door with a scowl.
"I am sorry, Angelique, but I have never seen anyone quite so unafraid."
Dubiously, Angelique looked up.
"Others have always seemed so reserved, intimidated. But you? You're annoyed!"
"Well," a rueful smile danced across her lips, "it is annoying."
A friendly silence enfolded them. The scuffling of Angelique's shoe hinted at her temptation to pout. She glanced at Drew quickly and then away, "You're still smiling, aren't you?"
"I'm afraid so."
She watched as the tip of her shoe appeared and disappeared beneath the hem of her skirt. "Do you think it's silly of me to be annoyed?"
"No. Actually," a gloved finger reached over to trace the swirls of Angelique's hair comb, "I was wondering if I dare give you a reason to become even more annoyed."
"What do you mean?"
"Mind you, it may only be my ignorance of current fashions."
Angelique's eyes widened as the gold comb was adroitly plucked from her hair and offered to her. "Did you wish to be wearing one gold and one silver comb?"
"No," Angelique breathed. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the door. "I suppose that I was thinking of gold when I put in this one and silver when I put in the other. I'm afraid I'm not very good at controlling my thoughts — it's hard enough to control what I say out loud!" She giggled at that and suddenly they were both laughing. "I warned you," Angelique said when they paused for breath, "I have no practice with magickal things."
"Then perhaps," Drew said, striving for a slightly more serious note, "I should give you a hint or two?"
"Please."
"The servants in the house are for companionship and to tend to the details of maintaining the palace and grounds. However, the actual work is done by magick. The palace itself is sensitive to your commands. Any time you say 'I need' or 'I wish,' the palace will respond. Although, if you said 'I'd like' or 'I want,' it would ignore you." Drew paused before adding, "I found the more I limited the specifics, the fewer accidents occurred."
Angelique blinked. "You built this place?"
Drew shrugged noncommittally. "Some of it. Mostly I redesigned it to suit my purpose."
"And what purpose is that, my Liege?"
There was a moment of hesitation, and t
hen Drew answered, "To protect the lands and the village while I wait."
Angelique almost asked 'wait for what?' but something in the rigid tension that suddenly gripped Drew's body stopped her. She raised her gold comb instead and challenged lightly, "Do you think I really could change it myself?"
The tension fled. Drew chuckled softly and waved a gloved hand. "Try."
Angelique took a breath, excitement stirring. "I need a silver comb." The gold twinkled and then it was silver. "I did it!"
"You did." The black-gloved hand passed over the comb, changing its design. A splay of diamonds now graced the scalloped ridges and then Drew murmured something.
Angelique stiffened as she felt her hair suddenly swept back into place.
"It does take some practice," Drew explained matter-of-factly. "If you want the comb's design to match, you need say so."
"And the staircases? I'm quite certain I said nothing."
"Then they wouldn't have known where you were going. The destination would be completely determined by whoever was on them last. The palace is limited by some physical boundaries. Often, when one stairwell is used, another must also move in order to compensate for the change."
"But I only wished to go up one flight. No matter where it left me off, I shouldn't have gotten so thoroughly twisted about."
"In this place you will never need to climb more than one flight of stairs. Whether you begin on the first or the third floor, you will take only one flight to reach the fourth."
A sudden breeze disturbed the desk's parchments, and Angelique was reminded that she had interrupted something. "I should leave you to your work."
"If you like." Her companion straightened. But Angelique hesitated, eyeing the little corridor to the bedroom. "I honestly didn't mean to intrude." She opened the door, but left her hand resting on the handle.
"Angelique." Drew's gloved hand folded over hers. "This is your home now. There is no place forbidden to you. You are welcome anywhere in the palace."
Roses & Thorns Page 4
