by Elle Clouse
Brigid tensed. “You—”
“No,” Kiera interrupted. “Don’t fight.”
Ian smiled. “Clever girl. Now come, my dear. What do you say we take a little stroll through the gardens?” He took Kiera’s elbow in an iron grip and steered her farther into the garden. She shot a frantic look at Brigid. Ian was too strong. She couldn’t break free, no matter how hard she tried.
The path continued along through the flowers, but instead of following it, Ian pulled her into the foliage. Kiera sputtered as branches and leaves hit her face. They emerged in another section of the garden that abutted the castle wall. There were no flowers here, only hedges and bare stone. A secret, uncultivated space. Kiera’s stomach lurched with fear.
Ian’s hold on her didn’t ease. “The gardens are lovely, aren’t they?” From his tone of voice, they might have been taking a peaceful afternoon stroll.
“Your highness, I must ask you to let go of me at once—”
“Do you remember when you were here last, what happened to your doll?”
Kiera hadn’t known the real princess had been to Cearbhall. None of her research had indicated that Siomha and Cearbhall had communicated in the last few decades. She forced out a nervous laugh. “Is that all you called me out here to ask? I’m sorry. I was so young then, I scarcely recall.”
Ian swung her around to face him, his grasp on her elbow never loosening.
“Of course you wouldn’t remember.” He pulled a curl of her hair. “But I remember it vividly. I remember you. I remember that your eyes were the most beautiful I had ever seen. You had such beautiful eyes.”
His own eyes bored into her face. Kiera hoped the moonlight was enough to cover how pale she felt. Her chest tightened painfully, and her breaths came in shallow, gasping mouthfuls. With his free hand, he tilted her face up. “Beautiful green eyes,” he murmured. “You are very good. Quite the actress, really. Who are you?”
“My lord,” Kiera squeaked, “I do not know what you are talking about.”
He leaned in, his eyes narrowed to slits. His breath wafted over her face. “There is no need to continue this. You have been found out.”
“Please, my lord, end this madness. I am Princess Fedelma.” She gasped as Ian tightened his grip.
“What is your name?” Ayden’s voice asked from the shadows. Kiera whipped her head around. She couldn’t see where he was.
Ian squeezed again. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Your name,” he demanded.
“Fed—”
Another squeeze.
“I am the daughter of King S—”
Another squeeze. She whimpered.
A shift of shadows, and Ayden stepped out from the tangle of hedges, brushing twigs from his clothes. “I can start to guess if you’d like,” he offered.
He was smiling, but the look in his eyes was anything but pleasant. Kiera tried one last time. “Ian, you are a good man. Please don’t...”
Ian flung her to the ground, and her head hit with a sickening thud. The world spun.
“Fedlme,” she sputtered. “Fdlmah.”
“How dare you lie to me!” Ian towered over her, his hands clenched into fists. Kiera put up her arms to ward off a blow.
“Now, now, dear brother.” Ayden motioned for Ian to cease his threatening stance. “You said we could have her meet our little pet.”
Blood roared through her head as her mind whirled. If this kept up, her dress was going to be ruined. The thought struck her as absurd, and if it wouldn’t have made her skull throb with pain, she would have laughed. She needed to get to away before they hurt her more or spotted her ears. To Brogan or Phelan or just some other servants. Anyone. With an effort, she lifted her head. The ground lurched. If she stood up, she would simply fall over again. Grimly, she began to pull herself forward.
“Oh, look. She’s trying to get away. Crawling won't get you anywhere, my dear. Ian, you should help the poor girl.”
Arms circled her waist, and the ground jerked away from her as Ian flung her over his shoulder and clamped a hand on her legs. If she twisted, she could catch glimpses of her surroundings.
“Come now.” Ayden walked toward the castle wall. From a pocket, he took out a key and fitted it into the stone and turned it with a clunk. Hinges groaned, and a hidden door in the wall swung open. Beyond, a corridor stretched away into the distance, lit by a single torch.
Ayden picked up the torch and walked down the hall. Ian followed, Kiera slung over his shoulder, and shut the door behind them with a hollow, thunderous boom.
BROGAN HAD BEEN WANDERING the servants’ quarters for hours, trying to get a straight answer about the princes, but not even his most charming smile had earned him anything more than stony silence. The wagging tongues that filled a typical nobleman’s halls were still here; on the eve of a royal wedding, the servant hall was eerily quiet.
Brogan did not like the feeling in the air.
Eventually, he gave up and headed back to his room. He had just reached the stairs leading from the servants’ quarters when footsteps pounded down the corridor. Erann ran toward him, panting and out of breath. “You,” she gasped. “The bell—”
Alarm shot through Brogan. “What’s wrong?”
“Summoned,” she managed at last.
Brogan looked up at the row of bells on the wall. Each was supposed to connect by a cable to a different area of the castle so a servant could be summoned instantly. The cord for the bell to Kiera’s room had been cut.
Brogan cursed. “Where is she now?”
“Garden. With Brigid.”
He frowned. “At this hour?”
“She was summoned by Ian.”
Brogan cursed again. “How long ago?”
“I lost track. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen...”
Kiera would never have agreed to meet Ian in private under such suspicious circumstances. The fact that she had could mean nothing good. He grabbed Erann’s arm and spoke, low and fast. “Something’s gone wrong. Go find Phelan in the stables. Tell him all is not right with the world, then wait with the carriage for the rest of us.”
Erann didn’t question him. She dashed out the servant’s exit as fast as her skirts would allow. Brogan took off in the other direction. Toward the garden.
If Ian meant to hurt her, he might already be too late. Had he somehow discovered Princess Fedelma’s true identity? Or had he summoned her for another reason altogether?
The night air hit his face with a cool slap. He rushed through enclosure after manicured enclosure, crushing bushes and flowers beneath his boots. “Kiera!” he yelled.
“Brogan!”
The scream had come from his left. He burst through a creaky iron gate into a grove of flowering trees, potted shrubs, a frantic Brigid, and a very surprised-looking guardsman.
The guardsman reached for his sword, but Brogan never gave him a chance to draw it. He lunged forward, and his shoulder slammed into the guard, knocking him down in a clatter of chain armor. Before the man had time to recover, he yanked the sword away and leveled the tip at him. The man froze. Without taking his eyes off the guard, Brogan said, “Brigid, are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She looked frightened and was breathing heavily, but her eyes blazed with anger. “He took her that way, Brogan. Through the hedges.”
Brogan wanted to test the sharpness of his newly acquired blade, but he wasn’t the murdering sort. He struck the man with the pommel, knocking him out. “I’m going after her. Go to the stables. Find Erann and Phelan and wait for us there.”
Brigid spun on her heel and ran.
Brogan plunged into the hedges, still gripping the blade. Sweat dampened his palms. Ian was stronger and larger than he and was probably trained in swordplay. If it came down to a confrontation, it wouldn’t be a fair fight. He gripped his sword in anticipation.
As he fought his way through the thick brambles, he heard a giddy voice somewhere to his left.
“How exciting this w
ill be.”
Ayden.
Brogan clawed at the hedges, which seemed to go on forever. Grimly, he pushed his way through. If Ayden was part of this as well, things were more serious than he’d thought.
Abruptly, the hedges cleared, and Brogan found himself in a small courtyard, walled on three sides with hedge and on the fourth with stone. There were no entrances or exits. There was no one in sight. Confused, he looked around. Had he gotten turned around in the hedges somehow?
Then he heard the click of a falling latch. He ran to the stone wall along the far edge of the garden. There was nothing there, but he kept searching until he found the solid oak door, flush against the castle wall and cobbled like part of the stone itself. It had no latch but there was a keyhole. He pushed the door, but it was locked from the inside.
He was too late. He had promised Kiera he would protect her, and now she was locked gods knew where with Ian and Ayden, and a damned impenetrable door stood in his way.
Somewhere in the distance, there was a shout. The unconscious guard had been discovered.
His mind raced. He couldn’t leave Kiera to the mercy of those two princes, but he would be no good to her if he was captured. They would lock him up—and Phelan, Erann, and Brigid as well. He needed to leave now or risk all their lives. Brogan touched the door. “I’ll rescue you. I promise, Kiera.”
The shouts were getting closer. He hurled the sword over the hedge as far as he could, then turned in the opposite direction and fought his way through the branches.
“HOW EXCITING THIS WILL be.” Ayden pranced down the dank stone corridor, his face suffused with giddy anticipation. He lifted the torch to extend the reach of the light. “He’s never had a lady friend before. I wonder what he’ll do?”
Kiera squirmed against Ian’s grip, trying to free herself. Ian tightened his hold, but she still managed to push herself up to see.
How long they traveled down that darkened corridor, Kiera had no idea. After a while, it sloped down into a spiral staircase and the walls grew rough and broken. Veins of silver threaded the stone and reflected the torchlight back. Vainly, Kiera tried to grab on to anything that might stop their descent. Her fingernails scratched for purchase against the walls.
“Ian, please!”
He didn’t respond.
The stairs ended on a landing overlooking a massive cavern that smelled of earth and stone but not mildew or stagnation. They must have been hundreds of yards below the main castle floor. Ayden’s torch illuminated the natural stone arches that held up the foundation of the castle and the huge cavern hollowed out below. An eerie silence hung in the air.
The path continued over a gorge to a circular platform in the middle of the cavern. Tunnels branched off in all directions from the platform and disappeared into darkness. And lying on the ground, bolted to the floor, were shackles.
Ayden shifted the torch and lit small floor torches around the platform, then motioned Ian to the center. “Over here.”
Kiera beat her fists against Ian’s back and kicked, but she might as well have tried to fight a mountain. Ian shifted his grip and tossed her to the ground.
The first manacle closed around her wrist with a click. She kicked at Ian. He dodged, grabbed her other arm, and slapped the cuff on.
“Please don’t do this,” Kiera begged. “Please.” Tears streamed down her face. Ian backed away and crossed his arms, avoiding her eyes.
Ayden stepped back to study Ian’s handiwork and nodded in satisfaction. “Well, that seems solid enough. Care to take bets on how long until he catches her scent?”
Ian scanned the cavern and shook his head. He still wouldn’t look at Kiera. “We should go. No telling when he’ll notice we’re here.”
“Spoilsport.” But Ayden lofted the torch higher anyway, and the princes retreated back the way they had come.
“Don’t leave me here!” Kiera cried. She pushed herself to her feet and strained against the chains, but she barely had enough slack to crouch. “Please don’t do this!”
Neither brother so much as glanced back. With every step away from her, the circle of illumination created by the torch shrank, until it haloed them in the distance. They reached the landing, stopped, turned back to face her. They seemed to be waiting, but for what?
Minutes passed. Nothing happened. But for the occasional sound of water dripping, the cave was silent.
Then she heard it. A growl.
She snapped her head around. All she saw was darkness.
Again she heard the growl, louder and closer. She shrank back, hunching her shoulders. A long moment passed. Just when she was beginning to think it had passed her by, movement stirred in the corner of her eye. She whipped her head around, and her breath caught in her throat.
The beast lurched forward from one of the nearer tunnels. Heavy muscles rippled beneath black, fur-covered skin with every movement. He had talons that closely resembled fingers on large paws, and his facial features were very lupine, but not wholly wolf, either.
A growl rumbled from its throat. Large, white fangs as long as her hand gleamed. Kiera backed away, pulling the chains taut. The iron bit her skin.
The creature’s nostrils flared. His head swung around toward Ayden and Ian, then back to her. His glittering yellow gaze flitted from the chains to the manacles to her. He advanced, balanced on two legs like a man. Kiera went rigid. Five feet away, he stopped and fell to all fours. Muscles bunched beneath his short, silky fur, and he leaped.
Kiera screamed and dropped to her knees, throwing her hands over her head. The creature flew over her and landed on the far edge of the platform. He recovered quickly, though, and whirled around and pounced again.
His bulk knocked her onto her back. Her head hit the cold stone floor, her legs flopping out from underneath her. The creature loomed over her, sniffing up her body from her feet. His breath was hot on her cheek, and she cried out in terror, her heart racing. She could imagine too well how he might close his jaws around her. Kiera turned her face away, whimpering, as he sniffed her. Her mind reeled. Her consciousness started to slip away.
The creature took one final draw of her scent and reared back. As her vision went black, she heard him make a noise, half snarl and half howl, a sound too strange to be real.
“Kiera?” the creature growled.
Chapter 6
“What the hell was that?” Ayden spat as they stumbled out into the garden. The grove was empty with only the shrill of insects to break the stillness. “He ripped apart the others. What a poor sport.”
Ian slammed the door shut and locked it. “At least she is out of our hair. Now we need to take care of her servants and make it look like they fled in the night.”
“I wanted to see carnage.” Frowning, Ayden crossed his arms over his chest. “Although, it almost looked like he knew who she was. He took the time to break her chains when he could have just broken her hands to get her out.”
“I saw,” Ian said. “You think that he knew her?”
“Maybe. For a moment there I thought...no.”
“What is it?”
“I thought I heard him speak.”
Ian opened his mouth to respond, then closed it and shrugged.
“We may have caused ourselves more trouble than we thought with this one.” Ayden looked back at the door. He had not seen the creature that lucid in a long time. “Time will tell for certain.”
HER HEAD ACHED.
She opened her eyes and sat up quickly, then her head reeled from the sudden motion. She lay back down and closed her eyes, willing the room to halt from its whirling. The skin of her wrists throbbed where the iron bindings had held her.
When the world stopped spinning, she sat up again, more slowly this time, and looked around. Hewn stone walls surrounded her. She lay on a comfortable mattress in a sturdy wood-frame bed. An oil lamp on the side table illuminated the room, allowing her to see a wooden chair in the corner and a small dresser along the opposite wall. A woven
rug covered the stone floor. In the corner was a petite wooden door built to fit with the natural shape of the tunnel opening. It stood slightly open, fire light spilling in.
It was a cavern of some sort, but how had she gotten here? Where was the creature? Had someone saved her? Had Ian or Ayden had a change of mind? The last thing she remembered was hot breath on her throat.
Stiff joints and muscles protested as she moved to let her feet hang off the side of the bed. Her slippers sat on the floor next to her. Someone must have removed them. Her legs wobbled as she stood. She held on to the bedframe for support until she was certain she could stand unaided, then slid her feet into her slippers. One careful step at a time, she shuffled over to the door and peeked through.
The angle of the door gave her a good enough view of the room beyond. A fire in a rustic hearth crackled. A bookshelf stood along the wall, and a large wooden table occupied the center of the room. In the corner, a scruffy man sat, poring over a book. Long, black hair hung in dirty tangles over his face, and an unkempt bristle of beard covered his features. His clothes looked as though they had been sewn from a pelt.
Kiera leaned forward to get a better look. She must have made a noise, because he looked up and saw her. He set his book down and stood. “Don’t be afraid,” he called out. “You can come out here if you want.”
Kiera hesitated. If he wanted to harm her, though, he could easily have done so while she was asleep. She pulled the door open and stepped through.
The man smiled at her. It looked strange on his face, as though he wasn’t used to making that expression. “Hello,” he said. His voice was low and guttural.
“Hello.” Her own voice was little more than a whisper.
There was a long, awkward silence. “You must be hungry,” he said finally.
Kiera nodded.
The man set his book on the shelf, took two bowls from a stack of wooden dishes on the mantle, and filled them with thin soup from a cauldron hanging over the fire. Steam curled up in fragrant clouds. He set both bowls on the table, then motioned for her to come forward. “Please, sit.”
