“Sorry.” Amie closed the space he had given her after his revelation. “I’m guessing it was a long time ago?” His eyes burned a hole into hers, he stopped his methodical movements and it was obvious he was holding back.
“You would think so, wouldn’t you? To a human every day is brimming with fresh blithering newness. But I can never forget the brush of her skin or her breath mixed with mine. Our union was one of necessity. Eventually, I came to love her, in my own way. Only one chance at happiness do most men find in this life and mine died long ago, as ye say.”
Amie dragged the toe of her boot through the hard-packed earth. “I know there’s a lot of things about you—this place—that I don’t understand.” She looked up beseechingly. “But I’m trying. You don’t know how hard I’m trying. For a place where things aren’t supposed to change much, a whole heck of a lot has changed ever since I got here.”
“It is you who changes things…too many things,” he cryptically replied, while tearing his shirt off his shoulders and removing his apron.
Amie tried not to stare at his chest, especially since her sight was level with its breadth. She followed him as he brushed past her and stepped out into the rain. The icy sheets melted on contact with his skin, trailing in rivulets against his honey-toned skin in their wake. The sight was strange to say the least. Amie was wondering who, or more importantly, what he was.
When he turned back to face her, face expressionless, eyes enigmatic, his soft voice carried easily over the wind. “Come here. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
“You’re crazy, you know?” Amie laughed, looking around in case there was a video camera or something betraying this practical joke. Crossing her arms over her chest, she forced her eyes to remain glued to his. “There is no way I’m going to willingly stand in that.” She shivered. Memories of her night in the forest had haunted her dreams again of late.
“You shall if ye want me to forgive you for ruining me wife’s dress.” His grin was startlingly white, transformed his face into something easily the most handsome creature she had ever seen.
Faye is going to kill me for not bringing her along when she hears about this.
“Come along, Amie, put down the dress and forget to be flummoxed for a second.”
It was her name on his lips that made her obey. Taking in a deep breath, she set the dress and her cloak aside, but was unprepared for how cold the rain was. A shriek escaped her lips on contact with the icy gale. Her breath was heavy on the air but nothing close to the heat rising like steam off his shoulders.
He held a hand out to beckon her. “Come here.”
Once her hand slipped into his she felt a jolt of warmth shoot up her arm and explode through thousands of nerve endings. Until a gut-clenching pain began to jab at her scar. Opening her eyes to look up, she was surprised to see his smile highlighted against the brewing lightning storm. He released his hold of her just as quickly as she jerked to escape it and as the sky streaked with shades of violet gray, she found her troubles did melt easily away.
“It hurts for me to stand in the rain, to bathe in water. But I do it because it helps me to forget. You shall learn our ways soon enough, Amie Wenderdowne. I pity you for the price they make you pay for their mistakes. But for now do be satisfied not knowing everything. Just breathe.”
Amie let the rain numb her skin until she could no longer feel the nightly freeze or anything else. Every breath was a struggle in this kind of cold so she watched him with wonder. How could he stand this torture if it hurt him so?
Cocking his eyebrows, he brushed the hair out of his eyes with an unspoken challenge. She smiled, until he twisted his torso and ran past her, straight for the distant tree line. Amie tore after him.
Her fear of the forest went away with Dearg burning like a smoke signal in front of her. Every time she came close to touching him he swerved, often running in embarrassing circles around her. She shrieked as lightning struck the forest. The rumble of thunder covered her laughter and his.
She heard it just as he swerved and twisted to circle her, taunting and enjoying the game. His laughter came thick and gasping, touched with smoke and surprisingly young. So he wasn’t prepared when she threw all her weight on him and they both toppled into the mud within the outermost trees.
She laughed when they untangled, because he came close to resembling a comic villain with that face. Dearg smiled before letting it fall into his usual blank composure. Amie saw the recognition in his eyes as an unexpected emotion welled deep in her soul and escaped through her laughter, the pent-up frustrations she felt because she could not burden anyone else with them. He did not fight when she let her head rest on his chest and spilled her tears over him like a prayer.
Long into the night, after Amie’s tears were snuffed out, he brought her back to the stables and his tiny fireside. Here Amie changed into his dead wife’s dress by the stalls’ shadows. When she emerged wearing the revived dress, with its swirling Wenderdowne symbols and the old tongue written into the hem with spiders silk, he smiled.
He had little to say while she spilled forth her frustrations and her hopes because he confessed to her he did not deserve to know them. She did not leave him until her eyes were heavy-lidded with sleep and then he sent her up to the house for bed. She didn’t know he watched her and the light of her window until it was at last snuffed out.
Chapter 32
Xcalibure
In her dreams the light tended to blur about the edges, often melding into an inky darkness.
They had shoved her into the hay trough the moment they caught their first glimpse of the flames illuminating the big house. She had rushed ahead of them, to catch sight of the source of those awful blood-curdling sounds. So many screams and such a charge of nixy filled the air that a thick cloud hung heavily on the air, charged with a blending of powers. What she saw was beyond comprehension, worse than anything she had known in her life. Outlines of bodies were strewn all across the open field and half of the great house was on fire.
Amie screamed as she watched a lone figure jump out of the tall tower of the castle and drop to the battlements far below with a sickening crunch. She realized belatedly they were no longer ahead of her. Their hands quickly lifted her, shoved her into the stables, the stall where she could watch the keep and the house from both vantage points.
“Iudicael, you must take her and flee! I am afraid for her safety!” Mother was crying and pulling the man towards her.
“No, Dameri! I shall nay leave you all defenseless!”
“There is no other way, my love. I would die a thousand deaths to have you both safe and in my arms. But they will not stop until they have her, not until everything we love is destroyed!”
He grabbed her mother’s face and kissed her passionately.
Amie was skinny, slight enough that she could slip through the wooden bars of the hay trough undetected. She heard what they said quite clearly. She couldn’t stay, not if they expected to survive. She wanted them together, now they had found one another again. She could not bear to see Mother cry, not because of her. So she ran.
Her feet could carry her far faster over open ground than the trees she was accustomed to maneuvering about. She did not know where she was running to, where it would be safe. She had only been in the forest, never to the great house, except for one special occasion. Something tugged her toward it, pulled her closer until she neared its burnt-out wing and a rain of ashes coated her skin.
Distantly she could hear them calling her name, but it was too late to go back now. So she was surprised when a pair of strong arms plucked her from the ground and into a warm embrace. It was too familiar, but when he pulled her away to look her over, she was startled by how haunted his eyes looked this night. She had known him all her life, though. Trusting her inner nixy, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his ash-riddled cloak.
Amie woke the next morning with a dying scream in her throat and the scent of ashes
on her tongue. The dreams were often vivid, but not quite like this. With each passing day they festered into living, breathing things that left her waking to an unfamiliar reality. It was exactly as it had been before, when she couldn’t remember which world was real, the waking or dreaming.
Breakfast without Morcant lightened her dark mood, however.
…
Henry’s song carried in the prelude before dawn, through the thick castle doors she was fast approaching. “Sing a song of Auld Lang Syne, that merrily meshed toshed toad. Caught the pox of ginger lice and never swore he told…”
Amie pushed the castle door open and trudged down the front steps. She had stared at it with such wonder the foggy night of their arrival. Now she sneered at the stones her feminine boots were not accustomed to tread. She froze when she caught Dearg’s unobtrusive gaze and quickly shifted her attention to Henry.
Annoying morning people.
She scowled when he called for her to join them. “Jessamiene! You’ll really love this next song, taught to me by an old dungeon master who worked in the Skull Palace itself! He used to sing it to the inmates to encourage morale…”
“How did you wake up on the happy side of the bed?” Engrossed in her grumbling, Amie did not see the patch of stubborn icy dew in her path to meet him. Her heels slipped, hands flung high and Dearg managed to catch her so her back hung parallel to the ground. Their eyes met and her cheeks flushed.
“Marvelous catch, Eddie, lad! Fine thing you were here to catch her. These old hands aren’t as spry as they used to be!”
Dearg blinked, helped her up and moved away from her as if he were burned.
Amie tried her best to pretend she hadn’t spent most of the previous night pouring out her soul to the one person Emrys forbade her to see. “Thanks,” she whispered as he set her to rights and helped her climb onto Bean’s back. His gloved hand lingered on her leg a fraction of a second too long before he tipped his cap to them and shuffled off. Amie glanced over her shoulder to watch while steadying the reins and Bean’s sensitive nature.
“Ah! Nothing better than the morning after an autumn freeze!” Henry puffed a dramatic gulp of air and held an arm in a wide arc between them.
“If you say so,” Amie said, unwilling to admit she was awake yet. She brought Bean into a trot after her overly eager Uncle.
Man had to have taken a hefty dose of gooseberry juice this morning to be this excited.
Amie twisted back to watch the open outer gates of Wenderdowne slowly creak into themselves, night lights from the windows winking out as the first pale rose of dawn crept over the hill. The forest left all sunlight behind it, so within the first league they were entrenched in night’s wake. The deeper they trod, the brighter the dancing lights hovering betwixt the trees. Uncle Henry emitted a soft golden glow of his own despite the overhanging twisted branches efforts. He sang with remarkable pitch, unlike his driver Mr. Cutterworthy, but this did nothing for her musical ear. “Tickled the lass and bade her show, oh the poor ole toad in the middle of snow, will ye kiss me, Rose, and carry me home?”
Interrupting verse five thousand of his annoying song, Amie said, “So who are we going to visit again? I didn’t know you had neighbors.”
Henry blinked, startled out of his song with a slowly creeping grin. “Our friends certainly are not what you would pronounce neighborly, but their plot borders our estate. Everything tends to twist around in these woods. The forest does not like strangers much.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Amie shivered and wrapped her cloak more tightly around her, emerald eyes narrowing in on the black branches closing in above them. Dipping into her inner nixy, she chanced a twitch of the fingers at them. Unlike the vines bending towards her, the branches curled up into themselves and the path was less clustered than it had been moments before.
Henry turned his eye to her with suspicion, then delight. “I see the old devil has taught you some useful tricks after all.”
Amie flushed, embarrassed to be caught openly using the gifts she pretended to despise. “I guess.”
“Xcalibure is not half as old as Wenderdowne but I know you shall deem it quaint. Perhaps it will better look the part you expected to see when you first came, eh?”
She blushed again, from being found out. When she held quiet Henry resumed his song and left Amie to ponder what new mischief she was about to plop into.
…
Henry’s predictions were true. Xcalibure was nothing like Wenderdowne. Instead of a fortress that had been converted multiple times from bastion to castle to country home, Xcalibure was a simple two-story cottage in comparison. The narrow drive leading up to it eased through a propped-open, black wrought-iron gate covered in some coat of arms. The forest encroached on either side of the drive, keeping the full width of the house from view until they broke to the natural river and babbling pond centered in the spacious front yard. Scarlet-feathered swans floated silently on the surface in the light of dawn. Much as Wenderdowne seemed to have sprung up from the rocks themselves, the forest clung tightly to Xcalibure to keep it trapped in itself.
Light had broken through the canopy above to paint the white brick in rash oranges and liquid gold hues. Henry’s gray cloak brightened immediately so his skin glowed from the inside out. Amie was starting to wonder if his power became strongest with the rise of the sun. He held up a coated arm as they rode over the bridge and came to the flower-studded entrance. Amie stared, wondering if they had come to the wrong place, because every window and door was currently open.
When Henry brought Dydymus to a halt at the entrance hall and dismounted she followed suit, curious when he simply tied the horse’s reins to its harness to wander free.
Simply made, the entrance hall spanned to another open doorway at the opposite unbroken end of the house and on either side smaller halls spread to other likewise open doors and their hidden rooms. Where the stair led to was a mystery to be resolved, yet Amie smiled at the warm empty stillness of the place.
Gooseflesh bubbled up on her arms as they crept through the hollow rooms. Little to no furniture decorated this house, and Amie wondered if the people living here were drifters. Yet no ghosts and unseen eyes haunted these halls. Shadows were light and the forest had obviously encroached into the outer framework of the house. Leaves fell at an ever-increasing rate, keeping their bright emerald hue, and dusted the stone floor. Tapestries and armor decorated every turn. Vines hung from the rafters and curled into sweet-smelling flora. Small birds similar to the ones in their gardens made their homes here in their little mitten-shaped nests.
A small, somewhat contained orchard met them on the other side, filled with the strange pear-shaped fruits she had seen in Cook’s kitchen. Certainly enough, there at the edge at the top of the tallest tree, a fancily dressed figure wearing impressive robes swung with the limbs.
“Look at you, Henry! You’re a wee little mouse down there! And I am the mighty Hawkeye! Ha! I could stamp ye with my boot or smite thee with my sword!”
“Oh cripes, please tell me he did nay find it again,” Henry bemoaned and attempted to coax the bare-footed robed figure with the curling white beard. “Arthur! Get down, ye foolish oaf! This display does you no credit! And where the devil are your drawers?”
Standing at the base of the long-necked tree, Amie squinted from the shelter of her hand. “Find what again?”
“His sword,” Henry replied, shucking his jacket from his shoulders and peering back at the old house. “I hid it in a new place on my last visit. Such a shame Arthur has the uncanny knack of finding lost things…Now where is she?”
“Who?” Amie asked. But Henry was already marching back to the house. “Uncle Henry, wait up!”
“Stay with him, Jessamiene! It is imperative he be not harmed! I shall return shortly.”
Amie stared after him for a long moment, unbelieving her good fortune. What was she supposed to do if he suddenly fell out of the tree? She wasn’t Harry stinking Potter!
> “Whee!” the crazy man crowed overhead and the longer Henry took, the more fearful she was he might try and jump. She worried for his life after the senile old coot started hacking at the branches that had the misfortune of becoming his enemy.
“Dastardly devilry! Champion my knights to a cause against mine own? Ha!”
Twisting her father’s ring around her finger in ceaseless circles, Amie bit her lip and tapped her foot, bending back to glance at the house. “C’mon, Henry…”
“Oops!” the old man said with a giggle synonymous with the obvious rip of his outer robe. A branch snapped and crashed down in a shower of leaves over Amie’s head.
“Hey!” Amie shouted. “Be careful up there!” The old man did not respond and her eyes lingered on the lower branches. She shook her head. “Underhill is going to kill me,” she said as she climbed up after him. “Hang on! I’m coming!” Her hands found the branches easily as even the trees wanted to be closer to her, bowed beneath her touch. Soon she was leaping and grasping with ease, as if she had been climbing trees like this one her whole life.
Shouldn’t you be finding this a little weird?
Amie ignored the voice in her head, however, and pressed on until she could see the fuzzy toes of the old man’s house shoes. The wind billowed up his white night shirt precariously above his knees. The glorious purple cloak was ripped at the corner, a piece of it still pinched between twin branches.
She looked up and thought she might go blind. “Whoa, way more than I wanted to see,” she said. Sunlight reflected off a long sharp metal blade suddenly slashing at the air above her fingers. “Hey!” she called. “Watch where you poke that thing.”
“Magpie?” a weary old voice said, and then a rustle of robes and limbs were slipping downward, in front of her eyes, until a pair of very bold ageless eyes was staring into her own. Amie gasped as his eyes filled with tears and crinkled at the corners.
I know that face…
Blood drained from her face, as though someone had walked over her grave.
Silver Hollow Page 24
