Gail Z. Martin - COTN 03 - Dark Haven (V1.0)(lit)

by Gail Z. Martin

  That opportunity finally came after the eleventh bells. Carina excused herself claiming exhaustion from the long trip, and asked Jon­marc to accompany her back to her rooms. Two guards fell into step behind them, but kept back a respectful distance. They said little until they reached Carina's door, and she-invited him into the sitting room. The door closed behind them, and Carina breathed a sigh of relief.

  "Finally! I didn't think we would ever be free of the crowd."

  Jonmarc drew her into his arms. She stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck. For a moment, he was lost in the scent of her dark hair, the press of her body against his. "I missed you."

  She took his hand in both of hers and held it close to her chest, bending down to kiss his fin­gers. "I missed you, too."

  "You've brought what you need to winter at Dark Haven?"

  "Enough that Kiara joked that I hadn't left anything in the palace," Carina laughed, her green eyes bright. "You said there hadn't been a real healer in Dark Haven for years. I packed everything I could, assuming I'd be busy."

  Jonmarc pulled her close once more. "Oh, you'll be busy," he murmured, bending to kiss her again. She leaned into him and he tangled his fingers in her short, dark hair. This time, her kiss brought a warmth that carried with it a tingle of magic. When she stepped back, her eyes searched his.

  "You're worried. What's wrong?"

  "You never told me healers could read minds," he joked, trying to change the subject.

  "We can't read minds—we read bodies. Bod­ies don't lie. What's the matter?"

  Long ago, when he was a soldier, he'd heard rumors about what it meant to fall in love with a healer. The men he'd camped with were as much in fear of healers' supposed abilities to read minds as they were desirous of the ways a healer could turn his or her gift to other, more seductive uses. He'd dismissed it, especially the men who swore that taking a healer as a lover could ensnare a man's soul. Since none of the healers who trav­eled with the army made personal attachments, he'd assumed they weren't free to do so. Now he wondered whether the rumors had a grain of truth to them, and whether the healers who had remained alone did so out of choice.

  "Afraid you'd changed your mind, I guess. About coming to Dark Haven."

  Carina reached up to touch the back of his neck, letting the warmth of her magic loosen his knotted muscles. "I love you, Jonmarc. That hasn't changed."

  "I have something for you." He reached inside his vest and withdrew the small velvet pouch. "Go on. Open it."

  When the delicate silver bracelet fell into her palm, she gasped, her green eyes wide. "It's beautiful."

  He took the bracelet from her hand and slipped it onto her left wrist. ."It's a shevir, a blood oath that I'll always come for you. I love you, Carina. Marry me. Dark Haven needs a lady and so does its lord." Riding into pitched battle didn't seem to require as much courage as the next few seconds.

  "Yes." Her green eyes glistened with tears. "Yes."

  He kissed her again, finding that her answer did more than any magic to release the worry

  that had gnawed at him these past few months. Nothing else mattered, not the royal wedding celebrations or the long journey back to Dark Haven, or even the feuding of the Blood Coun­cil. Nothing mattered at all right now, except her answer. A knock startled them both. Reluc­tantly, Carina stepped back and opened the door. A page stood outside. "Lady Carina, sorry to bother you, but one of the ladies has taken sick and Healer Cerise is with King Donelan."

  She glanced back at Jonmarc with a look of resignation. "Go ahead," he said. "It's late. Just make sure those guards go wherever you go." He kissed her on the forehead.

  "Where are your guards?" she teased.

  Jonmarc patted the pommel of his sword. "King's Sword, remember? Be careful, Carina. Even here. Don't take any chances."

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek and the guards moved forward to escort her and the page down the corridor. "I promise. Stay out of trouble."

  He grinned. "That's one promise I can't make."

  When the bells tolled three, the castle was quiet. Even the hardiest of the party-goers had retired to their rooms, and the corridors were empty of servants. Kiara slipped through the outer door of Cerise's chamber, managing to elude the guards who dutifully watched her door. She had changed from her elaborate gown into a shift, and her hair was back in a simple braid. She padded down the back corri­dor usually reserved for servants. Tightly held in her palm was the slip of paper Tris had passed to her. Meet me after the third bells by the hearth in the kitchen.

  In the stairwell, she listened for a moment to make sure the kitchen was empty. The large cooking fires had been banked, and the kitchen was warm from the glowing embers. Pots, pans, and serving trays all awaited a resump­tion of festivities the following morning. Pies and cakes stood ready on a side table, and a fresh batch of apples, cabbages, and potatoes sat in bins awaiting the arrival of the morning servants.

  "Hungry, dearie?"

  Kiara wheeled to see a stooped old woman whose grin showed her mottled teeth. "Look­ing for a bite of bread or some cheese and sausage?"

  "No thank you," Kiara said. "I'm supposed to meet someone—"

  "King Martris will be coming down those back stairs any minute now, I wager. Been doing it since he was a boy—sneaking down to get some food, or to patch up what damage that demon Jared would do. I'm Bian. Looked after the king since he was born. Do the same for your young'uns too, when they come." She laughed. "Oh yes, dearie, I recognize you

  without your pretty gown. S'bout time our boy found a bride for himself. Can't tell you how glad I am that he's picked a girl with some spunk. But you'd best be careful wandering alone at night. Always some rats afoot in a castle this size, if you take my meaning." Bian limped toward the other side of the kitchen. The old woman turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

  Just then, Kiara heard footsteps on the stairs. Tris stepped into the dim light of the kitchen. He was dressed in a tunic and trews, looking much more like the outlaw tent rigger she had met on the road to Westmarch. "I see you read my note."

  "I shudder to think what Zachar would have thought," Kiara said as Tris stepped nearer and wrapped his arms around her.

  "I couldn't wait to see you alone." He smoothed her hair back from her face. She reached up to touch the white blond hair that fell loose to his shoulders, playfully twisting it around her fingers. "Do you think it's too late to elope?"

  Kiara sighed. "Goddess True! I wish we could. I can't breathe or move in those gowns. I'd rather wear armor! What I wouldn't give to slip out the back, steal a couple of horses and ride off to some little hamlet where we could get a hedge witch to marry us."

  "I've been thinking the same thing myself all day. You haven't had to shake hands with every noble in the Winter Kingdoms. I've talked myself hoarse and said absolutely noth­ing." He took her hands in his. "As for eloping, I've come as close as we can. It's tra­dition for us to spend tomorrow night here in Shekerishet. But after that, since the guests will all be leaving, I've arranged for us to slip out of the castle to father's lodge. Just us and a few dozen guards."

  "At least the guards are on our side this time. And for once, we'll have a room to ourselves!"

  He kissed her again, and Kiara let herself enjoy the moment. It seemed like it had been forever since she'd felt his touch. They drew apart after a long while, and she turned, lean­ing back against him as he wrapped his arms around her. They watched the fire, content to be together.

  "Is it true, that you'll have to go to war?"

  "Lord Curane's holed up in his castle on the Southern Plains. He's got men with him who backed Jared—nobles, mages and generals. I can't afford to let them stay there."

  "So—more pressure than usual for an heir."

  Tris turned her to face him. "I'm sorry Kiara. I never wanted the crown to intrude like this."

  Kiara reached up to touch his cheek. She could see how the weight of kingship wo
re on Tris. He looked worn, and there was worry in his green eyes. "You don't have to carry the burdens of the crown yourself. Whatever comes, I want to share it with you. As for the

  heir... Carina used her gift to make sure things are as... favorable... as possible. Said that's something healers are good at—and that out in the villages, half of their work is helping peo­ple have babies, and the other half is keeping them from having too many!"

  Tris tipped her chin up. "All that matters is that .you're here now. We're together. Let's take things one day at a time. Today's all we've real­ly got anyway, isn't it?" He kissed her then, and whatever she might have responded went unsaid.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A candle mark before dawn, Tris was dressed once more in full formal regalia. A gold circlet glistened in the candlelight against his white hair, and his high starched collar scratched his neck. As much as he had argued with Crevan and Carroway for more practical attire, in the end, he gave in to tradition. The wide lace cuffs of the formal shirt brushed the back of his hands. Beneath the heavy cloak, he wore a satin waistcoat beneath a matching long coat in midnight blue, Margolan's tradi­tional color for weddings. At his throat was a golden pendant, one of the crown jewels Jared hadn't sold off. His sword hung at his belt. A heavy fur cloak protected him against the bit­ter cold as he waited outside Shekerishet's main doors; he credited the sweat that ran down his back more to nerves than to his clothing.

  Presenting gifts at the shrine of the Mother and Childe was the first formal act of the royal wed­ding day, and as happy as Tris was for the day to have finally arrived, he was nearly as nervous as when he'd prepared to take the castle by storm. Just as the royal coach drew up to the front steps, Kiara walked through the castle doors. She wore a golden tiara with the crest of the House of Isencroft, and a sweeping fur. cloak that almost reached the ground. Her long hair was swept back in an elaborate knot, and the dark blue gown that peeked from beneath the cloak was one of many she would wear this day. She gave him a nervous smile and took his hand as they descended the steps, surrounded by guards.

  "Once you're in the coach, stay there," Soterius said under his breath as he came up beside Tris. "I don't like moving the two of you together in the dark like this. I know you can both hold your own in a fight. But today, if anything goes wrong, let the professionals handle it for you."

  So many torches flared that it was nearly as bright as daylight; Tris guessed that Soterius was making sure no one could hide in the shadows. "How fast are your horses?"

  "The fastest in the stables. One sniff that anything is wrong and your driver has orders to ride like the Formless One Herself is after you."

  "Let's hope we don't need to worry about it," Tris said as the guards formed a corridor

  for them to enter the carriage. A dozen mount­ed guards waited on powerful war steeds. There's a fine line between caution and para­noia. If Ban keeps this up, he'll have our guests jittery before we ever get to the ceremony.

  "I've taken my own precautions." Mikhail's voice startled Tris. "Some of Lord Gabriel's household will be near the road in the forest and around the perimeter of the shrine until dawn. The vyrkin will also be protecting your carriage, so don't be alarmed if they call to each other."

  Kiara glanced from Mikhail to Tris. "Vyrkin?"

  Mikhail grinned, showing his long eye teeth. "Shapeshifters, from the wolf clan. Friends of Lord Gabriel's. Don't worry—the real wolves keep their distance when the vyrkin are around."

  A warmed metal box with embers took the chill off the inside of the carriage. In the dark­ness, Tris snuggled close to Kiara as the horseman cracked his whip and the carriage started out across the snow. Beside them and around them they could hear the hoof beats of the guard's horses crunching through ice.

  "So much for eloping," Tris joked nervously.

  Kiara looked out the window as the moonlit road slipped by them. "Hard to imagine we took back the castle with fewer soldiers."

  Tris could hear the same nervousness he felt in her voice and he squeezed her hand. "Just a little longer, and we'll have the ceremonies out of the way. I promise."

  She smiled back at him and laid her head on his shoulder. Tris wished he could reassure himself. He watched from the carriage window with a sense of foreboding, tense although he knew how heavily guarded they were. Ban's got me seeing shadows now.

  The carriage came to a stop at the entrance to the Lady's grotto. Margolan was unique among the Winter Kingdoms in its veneration for two of the Lady's Aspects: the Mother and the Childe. And while Tris's journeys of the past year and his role as Summoner made it clear to him that all of the Aspects were facets of one Goddess, in his heart, the Mother and Childe drew him most deeply to them.

  Even in winter, the grotto was beautiful. As the first light dispelled the shadows," Tris looked out over the unbroken snow. He had seen the grotto in its full glory, when the blos­soms of summer tumbled in profusion and the huge trees were dark green with leaves. Now, there was a stark beauty in the tall bare trees that lined the approach, their gray branches arching overhead. In the summer, the gardens that were sacred to the Childe were filled with colorful flowers and bushes, and flocks of white doves perched in the branches of the trees.

  The approach ended in a deep ravine cut between two hills, lined with slate. In the spring, the bushes that covered the hills would be ablaze with color, but now, ice traced the tips of the tangled branches, glistening in the morning light. To the left, four white carved columns made a semicircle around an intri­cately decorated fountain, while to the right, cold water flowed beneath a skin of ice down a waterfall into one of the many brooks and ponds that decorated the gardens. Water was as sacred to the Mother as flowers were to the Childe. In the spring, worshippers would come to cast petals into the flowing water as peti­tions to the Goddess and to fly brightly decorated kites with tails made of shredded ribbon that stood for prayers for the departed. Now, the grotto was silent.

  Tris took Kiara's hand as they stepped out of the carriage. His boots crunched on the snow as they made their way toward the temple of the Lady. Every betrothed couple in Margolan made an offering before taking their vows, although few made the pilgrimage to the Lady's temple. They were more likely to bring their offerings to the small shrines that dotted the roadsides or to a household altar. The king's options weren't so simple.

  Deceptively thin white marble arches soared skyward, their peaks creating a jagged silhouette against the pale pink sunrise. On either side of the entrance stood two larger-than-life alabaster statues: one to the Mother and one to the Childe. Underneath the arches, water cascaded down shoulder-high marble walls; in the bitter cold, Tris could detect the hint of magic that kept the water flowing smoothly. Through the double archway was an outer chamber where the guards would wait. As they stepped through the archway the temperature warmed, and again Tris sensed the magic that served the temple, though the Lady's acolytes were out of sight. They set aside their heavy cloaks. Banks of candles lit the inner room. The soft sound of flowing water filled the room, from a large central fountain that sent its waters down eight sloping marble levels and into a clear main pool.

  For this ceremony, Kiara was dressed in the Margolan fashion, with a shimmering dark blue gown that accentuated her waist. The bodice was modest by court standards, and at her throat was a golden pendant in the shape of the Lady's symbol. Full satin sleeves bil­lowed at the shoulder, pinched back in at the elbow then flared out in wide cuffs. A jeweled belt made a Y at her hip line and the entire gown sparkled with pearls and gold. In Kiara's dark hair, strands of gold and small gems glit­tered in the candlelight. A shy smile touched the corners of her lips, and Tris knew that his appreciation was apparent in his face.

  Soterius held out a basket woven of gold and silver and covered with a cloth of rich brocade to Tris, and gave a similar basket to Kiara. The

  baskets held the symbolic gifts they would present to the Lady for Her blessing. Tris could feel his heart th
udding as they stepped forward toward the doors that separated the inner tem­ple from the outer court.

  Guards opened the heavy wooden doors. As she crossed the threshold, Kiara made a deep curtsey. Tris paused at the doorway and sank to one knee, bowing his head. He stretched out his mage sense and felt the nearness of the Lady's presence. In the front of the inner temple were two large statues of the Mother and Childe. Four banks of candles flickered and glowed around the walls, and torches flared in elaborate sconces on each pillar. Above them soared a high ceiling that rose to the tallest peaks of the arches. The morning sun streamed in brilliant colors through panes of multi­colored glass, making a garden on the stone floor of the sacred space. Winter-blooming flowers filled large vases around the sides of the round room, mixed with branches from evergreen trees. The scent of floral incense hung in the air, rising in smoke from ornate burners in front of each statue. A large crystal basin filled with water stood in the center between the statues on a golden pedestal.

  In front of the crystal basin was a stone altar covered with complex Noorish inlay. Even from a distance, Tris could feel magic that beckoned for him to follow it to the quiet spaces of power.

  Kiara made a low curtsey to each statue. She bowed her head in silent prayer. At last she raised both hands, palms up. "Mother and Childe, most gracious of the Aspects, accept my gifts and hear my wedding prayers."

  Kiara withdrew a loaf of uncut bread from the basket. Her hands shook. "For my house­hold and for this land, bread enough for all." Next, she withdrew a cruet of wine and a flagon of goat's blood and set them beside the bread. "For all in Margolan, living and undead, drink sufficient for their needs." She withdrew a gold coin and a small sheaf of wheat. "May our trade be prosperous and our harvest plentiful." Kiara reached into the bas­ket and took out an egg and a small caged rabbit. Tris saw a blush come to her cheeks. "May the Lady bless our household, our peo­ple, and our herds with new life."