by Jan Delima
Unaware of her inner debate, his mouth slanted on a groan of both relief and something greater, something she dared not consider because she’d begun to want it so. Regardless of her attempts, her reluctant thoughts became bold ones, and as these things were bound to do—bold ideas carried true desires. Could love come from their union? Did she dare hope for such a thing? He leaned over, gathered her close, and captured her mouth for a kiss that started tender but deepened when she responded. He toyed with her mouth until she was squirming again, only to break away to trail his lips down her neck, and lower.
“We need to check on the Wulfling,” she reminded him, frightened by the potency of her longing.
“She was sound asleep in a drawer a few hours ago,” he said, yanking at the neckline of her nightshirt. “But you’re right. We have responsibilities that require our presence away from this room.” He did not let her leave without capturing her nipple for one farewell tug of his mouth, one that would taunt her for the rest of the day.
* * *
Cadan had never felt such panic, which, if he stopped to consider the events of this downright lovely week, misplacing a child shouldn’t threaten to beat his heart from his miserable chest.
But, alas, it did. Perhaps there was a place somewhere for his suffocated soul after all. He searched every crevice of her chamber, bathroom, closets and corners, only to rush into the hallway and slam into Gareth.
The porter ran his hand through his cropped hair, skewing the patch on his eye. “What’s happened?”
“Audrey isn’t in her room.”
“The Wulfling?”
“Of course, the Wulfling.” Frowning, Cadan took a step back because the man appeared . . . ruffled? Gareth was an imperious shadow, keeper of the night, guarding his emotions firmer than this misbegotten castle.
But never disheveled.
“What’s wrong with you? You look positively undone.”
“I saw them,” Gareth said in a disjointed voice. “I saw them together. Rosa and . . . him.”
“Just now? Where?” Cadan bit back his annoyance on his cousin’s behalf. Had her privacy not been invaded enough by Math? Still, this man was their only proven ally and deserved to be treated as such, so he kept his tone neutral. “Did you go to her room?”
“I haven’t had a chance to speak with her alone,” he muttered defensively. “Black is always with her.”
Or I am, Cadan thought. At least he’d started calling the man by his current surname instead of the Beast. The older brother was a scary bastard, but Luc seemed fair.
So far.
However, Cadan reserved the right for judgment at a later time. For now, he tried not to associate the man with his family, if only to avoid becoming a hypocritical ass. Considering his own dear mum was queen of the Council’s perverted madhouse.
Still, Cadan was allowed to be wary, regardless of Rosa’s assertion otherwise. “Was he being cruel to her?”
An uncomfortable pause. “No.”
“Ah,” Cadan said as understanding dawned along with relief. “Luc is her husband by choice.” He knew Rosa; she would have found another way had she not been drawn to him. “She may have married him to strengthen our campaign, but she likes him. And Luc isn’t opposed. You only need to watch them together and see.”
“I did see,” Gareth admitted thickly. “She was . . .” He shook his head as if stunned. “I’ve never seen her so receptive.”
He appeared more confused than bitter, which was a matter of great importance—because Cadan needed someone he trusted to stay behind for Rosa when he left. “Isn’t it time to shed those scars, Gareth?” Along with the cumbersome history that bound them. “Go for a run already.” He waved his hand toward the man’s twisted countenance. “No human will associate your true face with that mess.”
“I could say the same of you,” he returned before walking away.
So true, Cadan thought, but some scars were easier to rid than others. And frankly, he quite liked his current self, messy as it was, just not the dank walls and dark memories that suffocated the very air that he breathed.
He wanted away from Avon. He wanted to dance to modern music in crowded bars with beautiful mortal men who had no way of entrapping him for eternity. He wanted—no, he needed to live free of Guardian demands, if only for a year. Had he not earned that right?
Once he knew his cousin was safe with this new husband, he intended to live the freedom of mortals—but a tweaked female wolf and one day of Luc’s apparent kindness hadn’t yet convinced him of Rosa’s safety.
Once summer was behind them, he hoped, and the prophecy foiled.
Until then, he had a Wulfling to find, preferably before Tesni returned. He made another mad scramble around Audrey’s room. Where would a Wulfling go? A large wardrobe stood against the far wall. He’d looked in the upper cupboard, but . . .
Walking over, he slowly pulled out the bottom drawer.
And there she was, a baby wolf rolled into a puppy ball, with her furry belly rising and falling with her breaths. The relief of finding her almost put him on his ass. Sweaters were pushed against the sides of the drawer with Audrey burrowed in the center. Tentative, he reached in and removed a wayward sleeve away from her snout.
Two distinct emotions tightened his chest; one was the burden of responsibility and the other was an inconceivable joy. Both formed an instant need to protect. So tiny, she was. This child was now theirs to shelter from harm. She will be hunted like Rosa when she comes of age, if not sooner.
“The Council will have to come through me first,” Cadan whispered.
She made a puppy sigh and snuggled deeper into the drawer as if she’d heard.
And until he knew Rosa and Audrey were safe from Council members and beasts, he would stay to honor that vow.
Sixteen
To bear in silence, four secrets hidden, in circles of raindrops, cloak death.
The stench of death hung in the air as Luc followed Rosa to the Walkers’ tombs. Puddles pooled on the swamp-like walkways, coated in green ooze, the only vibrant color in a mass of gray. Eight stone structures loomed on the river’s edge, reminding him of the grave sites of New Orleans, with Celtic patterns carved on wooden doors.
A handful of guards had joined the tour, avoiding puddles as if the slime that coated the surface came with a Walker’s life-sucking kiss.
Luc rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the same unease. “What’s in the other four tombs?”
“Hen Was who have passed on,” Rosa said in that quiet voice reserved for lost souls. She wore suede trousers, an overly large sweater that bulged on one side from her sword, and rubber boots. The sword and boots were functional, but the others, he guessed, were a homespun attempt to hide her curves.
Cormack followed in his human form, having gone off the island to shift after hearing Elen was on her way. He wore sweatpants and a wrinkled T-shirt, but stood more confident with each passing hour. Once Elen had learned of the Wulfling, Mae, and Cormack’s presence, there was no point in trying to discourage her. His sister would arrive by midday.
Cormack reached over and tugged at Rosa’s sleeve. She frowned at his hand gestures, struggling to decipher his awkward attempt at communication.
She tilted her head to one side, listening carefully, but her expression remained puzzled. “We’re going to see the Walkers now. Is that what you’re asking?”
A half-human growl. Shaking his head, he pointed to the tombs. “Ssshhh . . .” A twisted hiss rolled from his tongue, and then another garbled growl.
Luc almost intervened until Cormack had attempted to form a word. He remembered all too well the frustration of learning how to speak with the full intelligence of a grown man. It was one thing to understand words, but another skill to learn how to speak them through a new form.
Cormack tried again, “Ssshhhaaa
. . .”
“Siân?” Rosa prompted immediately, almost relieved.
He nodded vigorously. Pointing again to the tombs.
Her features softened. “No, she’s not here. We brought her remains across the river to a place more beautiful than this. We gave her a proper burial. I’ll bring you there sometime if you like.”
Placing his arm crosswise over his chest, he gave a low nod.
Suspecting his wife was the reason behind the proper burial, Luc leaned forward and captured her mouth for a quick kiss. She blinked at him, charmingly startled, and more than one guard observed the impulsive gesture. He ignored their smirks and examined the structure of the tombs.
“How were the Walkers brought here?” For all their malevolence, the tombs had been built with care and respect.
“Taliesin transported them by ship,” Rosa said. “That’s all I know. The tombs were commissioned first, then Castell Avon shortly after.”
“The living quarters should have been built on a separate island.”
“If only we’d had that choice. The Council values their lives more than ours,” she reminded him. “We were brought here to protect them, not ourselves.”
“I’ll discuss this with Taliesin if he remains with my brother.” Permitting the Walkers to sicken their surroundings mustn’t be allowed to continue. Moving them to another place might be a solution, but would that only poison more ground? Unbidden, Teyrnon’s first suggestion came to mind—as did Rosa’s warning. The last person to enter a tomb with malicious intent had cut off their own head. Not a comforting thought, as he was about to step into one himself.
“You can try,” she muttered. “But I’ve never seen him react well when asked about them.” She named the occupants, pointing to each tomb in turn. “Aeron rests in the first, then Morwyn, Nesien, and over in the far corner is Gawain.”
“The ground feels warm,” Luc noted.
“There are tunnels below that siphon heat. It’s how Sophie escaped from our dungeons.”
“You’ll show me later,” he said, guessing he would find them well stocked.
Nodding, she placed her hand on the door of the first tomb and slid it open. “This one is Aeron’s.” Her voice became hushed. “It’s best if we don’t stay too long. And whatever you do, don’t touch her. I would also suggest you remove your weapons and keep them out here if you can’t control your thoughts.”
“Understood.” Luc kept his sword sheathed but still on his person as he ducked under the doorway. Stale air greeted him inside the dark space. The open door provided the only light, a singular shaft to guide his gaze.
Aeron had been arranged on an altar of carved marble, arms to her sides, wearing a dress of blue velvet and ivory lace. Jeweled ribbons weaved a crisscross pattern through ebony black hair; a sleeping beauty, dormant between worlds, once a messenger to the Fae and now a vampire of sorts who fed on the essence of the earth’s blood.
She sang a siren’s death song, calling him to soothe her from an endless journey of pain. He stepped forward, drawn by her profound sorrow. Bemused, he reached for his sword and then realized what he’d done. “Shit.” Fisting his hand, he turned on his heel and pushed everyone back from the door. “I’ve seen enough.”
Rosa gave him a knowing look. “You felt her, didn’t you?”
“I felt something,” he admitted, running his hand through his hair. Next time he would heed his wife’s warnings. “Show me the rest.”
He didn’t enter the other tombs, but viewed each Walker without crossing the doorways. All were arranged much the same, in formal clothing of their time, and with special care. Perchance out of respect, but somehow Luc doubted that was Taliesin’s only motivation.
No, this stank of guilt.
At a loss of what to do, he swore, “Bloody hell.” A few better choice words came from the other guards. He had only one certainty in this ominous conundrum. “We mustn’t let my sister anywhere near here.” He repeated it again, raising his voice so all the guards heard. “Until we figure out what to do with them, make sure everyone stays clear, especially Elen when she arrives. There’s nothing in this place but death.”
And after last week, when Elen had ripped a wolf’s power from one man and given it to another, he didn’t trust her not to touch.
* * *
Later that morning Rosa’s people began to trickle in from their secret place in the woods. Luc made his own introductions whenever he ran into a strange face, gathering a few who volunteered to watch the walls. By afternoon laughter and merriment filled the halls of Castell Avon, infectious to even his guards.
At one point he broke away and drove into the nearest city to buy the condoms. It was a task that needed to be done alone. Gareth had witnessed the validity of this marriage, so giving his wife time to adjust was a minor hindrance. Compromise was in order, because while Koko may not have been his mate, their love had been true, and her spirit still wound a tangled knot around his heart. When not in Rosa’s company, and without his wolf or his need clouding his judgment, it felt wrong of him to ask of her what he wasn’t willing to give himself.
Teyrnon was covering Gareth’s post at the gate. When asked, the Norseman said with a shrug, “He said he needed to go for a run and would be back in a few hours.”
Gareth had covered his duties with the appropriate chain of command, so Luc only nodded. “I’m taking your SUV to drive around the nearest towns. I’ll be back by midday.”
Admittedly, it was a relief to find the nearest city bustling with humanity, too consumed by their own lives to know the depth of this world or the secrets it held. Also realizing that he’d felt overly isolated in Avon. Rosa must make this journey with him next time, he decided. Or take a day with a friend, or by herself. With that in mind, he also found a department store and purchased clothing for her, as well as Audrey, and a few other items for Cormack.
When he returned with a handful of bags, he placed the things he’d bought for Rosa in her wardrobe and went in search of her. He was pointed in the direction of the library. As soon as he entered he knew this room was hers. It smelled of her, and was decorated with comfortable furnishings, where the rest of the castle was gilded and garish.
Rosa sat on a small sofa, with Audrey cuddled by her side. Cormack was across from her, leaning forward in his chair, concentrating heavily on the child’s face. A low table was positioned in the center; open books and an odd assortment of objects lay strewn across the surface.
They made no practical sense until Audrey pointed to a round paperweight and pronounced its name slowly. “Baa . . . aaa . . . all.”
Frowning as if the man were lifting heavy weights, Cormack mimicked the motion with his mouth and made a worthy attempt. “Baaaa . . .”
Rosa looked up when he approached and scooted over to make room for him on the sofa. “I thought they would get along,” she said, waving her hand toward the table. “This was Audrey’s idea.”
“It’s a good one.” Children didn’t judge. Luc tossed a bag by Cormack’s feet. “A change of clothes if you go back with Elen,” he told him. “Those sweatpants are getting old.”
Cormack shook his head, tight-lipped, pointing to the table. The very image of a Celt, he carried the features of his family, with reddish hair and a stocky build. Even his glare reminded Luc of Siân, arrogant but haunted.
Luc sighed. Cormack didn’t want to be a bumbling man in front of Elen. No, he wanted much more. “You are welcome to stay, if that’s your choice. At least you smell less like a Guardian now.”
“I noticed that,” Rosa said in a grateful voice that echoed Cormack’s expression.
“And these are for you.” Luc handed Audrey her own bag, the largest of the bunch. Disregarding the clothes, her face beamed when she found the stuffed bear. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, though.” Her head rested on the bear as she waited. “
Can you remember how long you were with William?”
Rosa sent him a frown, not liking that he brought up the subject, but in his experience, at least with children, it was better to discuss things once and then move on.
“Since last snow.” Her eyes regarded him warily. “I don’t like William’s. I don’t like snow either.” Her face pinched. “I don’t like being alone. I like cookies and Cormack and Rosa. And Cadan and Tesni. You said I’m not going back. You said I’m to stay here.”
Since winter. And she had been alone wherever William had found her. It seemed the tutor had spoken the truth, which was all he needed to know for now. “You’re not going back. But now I know how smart you are to speak so well and in only a few months.”
“I am smart,” she said. “I like it here. I like you too, if I can stay. I have pretty pictures in my head when I sleep, and I eat cookies and tarts filled with gravy.”
Rosa smiled at the last. “Cadan said she asked for a tart first thing this morning. I’m quite certain he gave her more than one.”
“I had four,” Audrey said proudly.
“I want you to stay inside the castle, though,” Luc pressed. “Can you do that for me? If you want to change and go in the woods, Rosa or I will bring you.”
She nodded, hugging the bear to her chest. “I can do that.”
A knock sounded on the door. Luc turned but didn’t recognize the man who loomed in the doorway until he spoke. Gareth had indeed gone for a run and shifted—and he had a face bards would write songs about. Shit, maybe some of the old ones were of him.
Gareth kept his expression stoic, making it obvious he didn’t welcome comments on his appearance. “There’s a woman at the gate who claims she’s your sister. She has . . . the hound with her. Should I let them cross?”
“Please,” Luc said, “let her in. I should have informed you of her visit earlier. Although I didn’t know she’d be bringing Tucker with her.” The porter turned to leave but Luc called him back. “Gareth, when there’s time, I’d like you to consider meeting with our porter in Rhuddin Village. He’s accomplished with modern technology. It’s become useful for communications within our territory, but we must be careful as well. Think about it. Cell phones can be an asset but they can also be traced.”
