Arto's Enchantress

by Morgan Henry

  “On a brighter note, I’ve scheduled a welcome feast for the Lady Cella in three days. That should give her enough time to recover. I’ve had the suite near the walled garden prepared for her.”

  “No, she’ll stay with me.”

  Arto was as surprised as Graydon at his own words.

  He was actually inviting a woman to stay with him.

  Not just for an evening of sexual pleasure, but to be in his personal space all the time. He had never wanted anything like that before. He wanted it now, though. To wake without his little sola after spending so many nights with her was unthinkable.

  To top it off, he was surprised at the surge of indignance that welled up inside him at the King’s suggestion of other rooms.

  When had he become so…possessive?

  Chapter 10

  When she woke again, if it weren’t for the fact that the walls were stone, not wood, Cella would think she was still in the same room as yesterday. Single bed, lamp on the side table, fireplace, and window. Oh, the chair was different. Blue, not green in colour.

  Arto wasn’t in it.

  A steel thread of disappointment cut through her chest at the level of her heart. She pushed past it.

  She took inventory of herself and realized she felt much better.

  Comparing yesterday’s waking to today’s, she realized how much sharper she felt. Her head didn’t have that tinge of pain and she could see more clearly. She didn’t feel as though her thoughts were swimming through porridge.

  She sat up.

  No dizziness, either. She didn’t feel nauseous or get the sharp jabs of pain when she moved her head quickly.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Cella bade the person to enter.

  A young woman with a knave’s badge on her sash of healer green, indicating she was beyond apprentice level but not yet a master, entered. “Good morning. How are you feeling, my Lady?” she asked politely, her voice soft yet professional.

  “Much better, thank you. As good as new, I think.” Cella smiled at the girl.

  “I am Usomia, a knave Healer here in Kerfaen Keep.” She asked several questions about Cella’s health and checked her over. “You seem to be doing well, my Lady. I will have some food sent for you and the Master Healer will be in to see you later. Until then, you are to rest.”

  “Thank you for your care. I can’t believe how hungry I am.”

  “You’ve been asleep for a while, it’s just noon,” the young knave healer noted. She hesitated for a second, her spine just slightly stiff. “Ah, my Lady?’

  “Yes?” Cella smiled encouragingly as the young woman obviously was nervous about whatever it was she had to say.

  “I understand you are a Master Enchanter?” At Cella’s nod, she continued. “I must pass on my Master’s instructions that you are not to use kerfios for at least two days. She says you must rest your head as well as your body.”

  Cella’s face fell a little in disappointment. “I understand. Thank you for the message.”

  The knave’s shoulders relaxed a little. Cella could understand how intimidating it might be to tell a Master what to do when you were a rank below. As irritating it was not to be able to fiddle with some of her ideas, she wasn’t about to take it out on the young knave.

  A couple hours later, after Cella had eaten, washed, and dressed, the Master Healer came in to see her. Pronounced fit to leave the infirmary, but told in no uncertain terms to rest, she was following Kyna out of the room when she saw Arto striding down the corridor.

  A mix of feelings tumbled through her chest, all vying for attention.

  She was happy to see Arto. That was certainly filling most of her chest cavity. She had pushed aside her disappointment and irritation at the empty chair in her room earlier. She realized he was an important man who had more to do than sit at her side.

  She was a little aghast at how much he had come to mean to her over their travel. She should not, could not form an attachment to this man. She was going home in a year, back to her quiet life in the Enchanter’s Guild. It would be best for both of them not to fall in love.

  Yet, underneath all of this, was a steady pulse of something. She wasn’t sure if it was love or lust. She had missed waking with him by her side these last two mornings. She almost shivered at the thought of Arto’s talented hands and mouth on her body. Cella desperately wanted to know what else he had in store for her, what sexual delights that would make her shiver and beg.

  She realized her slit had dampened a little watching his approach. That long, lean body of his moved with the grace of one of his prized stallions, covering the length of the hallway almost too quickly. He had his customary leather trousers on but with a soft black shirt and a deep green tunic overtop. As usual, his sword was slung casually around his waist, drawing her attention to his hips.

  Cella was glad she had bathed and was dressed in fresh clothing. She wore a soft blue dress with narrow skirts instead of her riding clothes, but she was so used to her hair being bound for riding, she had pulled it back.

  Arto didn’t greet her with words.

  He pulled her into his arms, wrapping his strong, corded arms around her and engulfing her senses in his warmth and his smell of leather and, even in the Keep, horse. Cella couldn’t keep herself from burrowing as close to him as she possibly could, lost in the sensations.

  “Cella,” he said, his nose in her hair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you awoke.”

  He sounded so sad.

  “Your Grace, I know you have many responsibilities here in Kerban. I would not keep you from them,” Cella tried to reassure Arto.

  “Sola,” Arto chided. “How many times must I tell you that my name is Arto when we are in private?”

  Cella didn’t answer, and she didn’t let go of him.

  She didn’t know how long they stood together. It felt longer than appropriate, but too short to satisfy.

  Finally, Arto loosened his hold on her and spoke.

  “I thought I might escort you to your rooms and take you on a short tour of the castle at the same time, if you are up to it. I understand you are to rest still.”

  “I would like that very much,” Cella responded quickly. Then she remembered his rank in the Kingdom. “But please, I don’t want to keep you from your duties.”

  “You’re not, Cella. I will have some meetings to attend later this afternoon, but I’m free now.”

  “Then by all means, show me your favourite places in the Keep.”

  Cella dismissed Kyna, saying she would meet her maid back at her rooms later. Then she set off with Arto.

  They wandered slowly through the Keep. It had been built on a cliff overlooking the river and entrance to Kerfaen Bay. Over the years the initial fortress had been added onto and renovated by various Kings until it was a rambling structure encompassing ten times its original size. Though there was an actual city on Kerfaen Bay, the Keep was almost a city unto itself.

  Cella would not have had the strength to explore the entire Keep, but Arto showed her some of his favourite places. The stables were at the northern end of the Keep. They viewed the barns from a balcony that overlooked the main practice field. Cella could see three separate barns and Arto told here there were two more. The King bred his own horses and needed to house many of the mounts that his visitors brought as well.

  The armoury was near the stables and practice fields for convenience. There was a forge that kept several master smiths, knaves, and apprentices busy. It was too loud for Cella as they pounded on the metal and the fires roared, so they only peeked in. They did linger a little in the area where the finished weapons and armour were kept.

  She marvelled at the variety of swords. Different sizes, shapes, and ornamentation abounded. She couldn’t keep track of them all. The armour was no less beautiful, but seemed somewhat more uniform. Breastplates chased with enamel or gold emblems, utilitarian chain mail, and polished shields with various crests were set up or hung around the room. Eve
n the bows and arrows seemed to be more than simply useful—they had an elegance to them that spoke of master craftsmanship.

  She wondered if the smiths in the castle could help her with some of her enchanting ideas by making the object to hold the enchantment. Cella carefully took note of the location of the armoury and smithy so she could return later.

  Arto took her to the ramparts on the eastern wall overlooking the river and port. The fresh breeze ruffled her hair and they were eye to eye with the fishing birds that circled over the water to swoop down for their aquatic prey.

  Cella could see large vessels at the docks in the distance. Kerfaen Bay was a major port in the Kingdom and ships from many different countries stopped there. She could see a couple of vessels flying Jorval’s flag. There were other vessels from even further away carrying exotic goods and more than likely taking on some of Kerfaen’s products. She thought she even saw one vessel flying Torquin’s flag.

  “Is that ship from Torquin?” she asked Arto in surprise.

  “Yes.” Arto’s arm came around her in what felt like a protective embrace. “We have the Emperor’s cousin as hostage from the invasion earlier this year and negotiations are in progress to return him.”

  Cella was shocked into silence. Torquin was an enemy of both Kerban and Jorval, for good reason.

  Torquin believed that anyone who had the ability to use kerfios was evil and needed to be controlled for the safety of others. They had a collar that, once around a person’s neck, limited their ability to use kerfios to what the collar’s master permitted. The master wore a ring that was linked to that individual collar. In Cella’s opinion, it was an abominable use of an Enchanter’s power to make such a thing.

  As far as she was concerned, the collar and its master were evil, not the person wearing the collar.

  “You won’t have any significant dealings with the Torquin envoy, little sola,” Arto rumbled in her ear. “You may meet him at formal functions, but I would never allow any harm to come to you.”

  A feeling of safety flowed through Cella like heated syrup at Arto’s words. Warm and sweet, it filled her heart. “Thank you. But I know I will have to meet him like any other ranking guest of King Graydon’s. I will be fine, and I like knowing that you will watch over me.”

  “By the god, I will.” Arto’s words were barely audible but they had the lethality of the armoury in them.

  A little unease flitted through Cella’s warm and syrup-filled heart. Surely Arto was fulfilling his duty by watching over her, not actually becoming attached to her.

  They left the ramparts to wander down to the more residential areas of the Keep. Arto pointed out a garden and its adjacent airy rooms, which he informed her were common rooms for social purposes. There were often nobles there chatting, reading, or engaging in other hobbies.

  Cella was glad they didn’t linger, as she was getting tired. Instead, he led her up a couple of flights to a wide corridor. It had a red carpet down the centre and glass sconces spelled to emit warm light. It had a richness to it that many of the other halls did not.

  They stopped at a wooden door hung with a tapestry displaying the Jorval emblem of a powerful steed in white on a deep blue background. The tapestry was edged in a delicate lace of the same deep blue, adding an unusual touch of femininity to the piece.

  “These are your rooms,” Arto informed her formally. He had the slight twist to his mouth that told her of his unease. She wondered why.

  Arto pointed out a door a little ways down the hall. Cella could see there was a tapestry on its door that had a deep green background, but she couldn’t see the emblem on it. “That is the door to my rooms. I, ah, hoped you would want to continue to be close to me. If you wish it, there is a double door between our sitting rooms that can be opened.”

  Cella suddenly understood. He wanted to continue their relationship now that they were in Kerfaen together, but obviously she was supposed to have her own rooms. She almost wanted to laugh.

  Kerban had less sexual rigidity than Jorval, but it obviously wouldn’t do to have the Jorval guest simply set up in the Duke of Bridgend’s rooms!

  Cella was too soft hearted to tease her lover. “I’m glad to see you want me close now that we’re not travelling together.”

  “Close?” Arto barked a short laugh. “I want you in my bed, sola, for as long as you’ll have me. His Majesty wouldn’t allow me to simply move you into my permanent chambers here, though. He didn’t want to explain that to the Vizier, apparently. He also said something about being high-handed and presumptuous.” Arto snorted.

  “Well,” Cella drawled, now changing her mind about the teasing. She gave him a little half smile. “Moving me into your rooms would have been high-handed. This arrangement is merely presumptuous, as I’ll bet that you have that double door already opened.” She raised a brow at him.

  Arto threw back his head and gave a hearty laugh. He opened the door to Cella’s rooms.

  “Caught,” he admitted. “But I’ll order it closed if you wish.”

  “No, I don’t wish. But I will admit that I’m tired and wish for a nap. Shall I do that in my bed or yours?”

  Arto looked down at her, his eyes soft. “Better make it your bed, or you’ll get no rest, and I won’t make it to my meeting. But I’ll wish for you by my side tonight.”

  Arto pulled Cella close again and kissed her temple. She sagged against him, both because she loved the feel of being in his arms, and because she was truly tired.

  “Eat, then get some sleep.” Arto whispered his command. “If I may, I’ll join you for a quiet dinner together?”

  At her nod, he kissed her swiftly on the mouth and left.

  After watching the door shut behind her lover, Cella turned to look at her new quarters.

  She stood in a large sitting room. To her left was a small dining area that would seat four comfortably, six if pressed. The table was inlaid with a curving pattern around the edge of the oval top in the same dark wood as the pedestal base. The chairs were in the dark wood with deep blue cushions.

  Further into the room, a small fire crackled in a large fireplace. Arranged around it were a sofa and two overstuffed chairs with assorted small tables and ottomans. Opposite this were the open double doors Arto spoke of, showing a similar arrangement in the next room. Her furniture was in deep blues with touches of white and black, while his was in the deep green of his house colours.

  Cella noted that his room had more personal touches than hers. There was a beautiful statue on his mantel that captured the powerful muscles and flowing grace of a galloping horse in mid-turn. A couple of books were piled on a table and a letter poked out between them.

  There were windows and a door on the far wall. Cella walked over to discover that she had a balcony that overlooked a courtyard garden. It was shared with Arto’s suite. There was a small table and two chairs between the set of rooms.

  She opened the door beside the fireplace to discover her bedchamber. There was a comfortable-looking bed with linens in several shades of blue mixed with white. She could see a door that opened to a private bathing chamber off to her left. There was a smaller fireplace in the same spot as the one in the sitting room with another of the overstuffed chairs in front of it. She also noted a beautifully crafted wardrobe and chest of drawers. And there was a moderate-sized desk with a comfortable chair and it appeared to have been well supplied with paper, ink, and pens.

  Cella was awed by the loveliness of the suite. It was beautiful as well as functional. She wanted to explore and inspect it further, but Kyna hurried out of a small door near the bathing chamber.

  “Ah, my Lady! I’m sorry I didn’t hear you enter. This beautiful suite has a room for me and I was unpacking my things now that yours are done. I should have been listening more closely.” Kyna blushed as she curtseyed.

  “Not a worry, Kyna. I didn’t knock. Duke Arto let me in.” Now Cella was the one blushing. She was wondering what Kyna would think of them adjoining Hi
s Grace’s rooms. “You’re right, it is beautiful. I’m glad you have a room to yourself as well. Is there anything you need now that we’re settled?”

  “Oh no, my Lady! My room is lovely and I even have another chambermaid to help keep things tidy here and look after you. We’ll make sure you’ll want for nothing.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.” Cella was glad that Kyna had someone to help her navigate her way in the castle, both geographically and with the other servants. She hoped the maid assigned here would treat Kyna well.

  “Now, my Lady, I’ve sent Nia to fetch a light meal for you. The healer said you were to eat, and to make sure you had a rest this afternoon.”

  “Yes, Kyna. I intend to do just that.”

  Chapter 11

  It was difficult for Arto to leave Cella. He would have liked to spend the afternoon curled up with her, talking and napping, and when she was properly rested, making love. He couldn’t wait to explore her sexual appetites further. He could hope they were in line with his—open to a variety of sexual games but nothing extreme.

  He had to put thoughts of her aside.

  There was work to be done. He was meeting with His Majesty and whichever members of the King’s Council were present this afternoon. No doubt there would be a discussion of Torquin and their captives along with other details of managing a large kingdom.

  He entered the large and comfortable council chambers. A larger oval table dominated the room with chairs for ten. A sideboard held coffee, tea, and pastries. Generally, no servants were present at these meetings. Privacy was desired and Arto suspected that it was a tactic of Graydon’s to have them all serve themselves, giving an impression of equality among them.

  Falk, the Earl of Cordigan, was already in the room. An accomplished mage, he was setting wards around the room for privacy. Once he was done, no one would be able to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  Lord Vigo of Anglesly was pouring himself a cup of tea. Sir Douk, the head of knight and squire training at Kerfaen Keep, already had a cup in front of him . Arto nodded to the two in greeting, staying quiet until Falk finished his spell.