Chapter Ten

 

 

Cecil was waiting for them at the base of the tower, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, braids falling in his face. His wolves were curled up at his feet, and he really was the most breathtaking man Tallant had ever seen.

The wolves stirred, seeing them, and Cecil looked up. He pushed way from the wall as they reached him. "I checked on him earlier, shortly after I gave him his nightly glass of wine. He is dead to the world, and should stay that way well into morning."

"Good," Milton replied. "Tallant."

Moving to the door, Tallant used his magic to unlock it.

Cecil grimaced, "I really hope Morden does not know that trick."

"If he did, he'd have little use for secret passages," Tallant replied. "It's not a trick taught in any book, thankfully." He pulled the door open and looked at Milton, who motioned for him to take the lead. Nodding, Tallant took the stairs quickly, though not so fast he would be taken unexpected should someone or something attack.

When he reached the landing, he opened the second door. He heard the others coming, and moved to get out of the way—but stopped in surprise as Bite suddenly came up and pushed inside the tower room.

After a moment, Bite returned to the door and gave a soft chuff. Taking that for an all clear, Tallant pushed the door open and slipped inside. The others followed quickly, and Milton shut the door behind them.

On the bed, Marden snored heavily. As Cecil had promised, Marden was dead to the world. Tallant motioned silently to Milton, then realized Cecil might not understand—but when he turned to softly explain Cecil only rolled his eyes and gestured silently for him to shut up. Smiling, Tallant turned away and they all moved to the tapestries.

Milton wasted no time, but went immediately to one in particular. He pulled it down and cast it aside, then stood starting thoughtfully at what seemed to be a solid stone wall. "He came from here."

"If you say so," Cecil goaded.

Leaving the brothers to scowl at each other, Tallant squatted down and examined the floor. "This is definitely where he came from. The floor is dirtier here than elsewhere. There's dirt, rock, and mud, and signs of something scraping it." He rose to his feet. "We just need to figure out how to open a door we can't see."

"Is that all?" Cecil asked dryly. He moved closer to the wall and began to carefully examine it. "If he kept the tapestry over it, then it must push in." He knelt and examined the ground, the wall, fingers tracing the mortar seams. "I think it moves here," he finally said. "I don't know if this is the hinge side or the open side, though."

Tallant marked where he indicated, then matched the points a few stones over, roughly the size of a doorway. "Same signs of wear here. So we'll just try pushing on either side 'til something gives." Nodding, Milton braced to push on the top of the wall, while Cecil remained kneeling and pushed from the bottom. He nearly toppled over when the door abruptly gave way with surprising ease.

Calling up a mage light, Tallant sent it into the passageway and examined what was revealed. Stairs, thankfully. It only made sense, but he'd half feared another ladder. Raze growled softly, inquisitively, claws clicking as he padded down the steps, vanishing into the dark, chased by the light Tallant sent after him. Tallant followed Raze, with Cecil, Bite, and Milton close behind. The steps must run right beneath the main stairwell, to avoid the two clashing.

Sure enough, not far down, they found what seemed to be a dead-end tunnel, and another secret door. A few more minutes of fumbling to push it open, and they spilled out into the castle. "So this is how he gets to the chapel," Cecil said. "But those stairs keep going."

"Let's see where they stop," Milton replied, and pulled the door shut, sealing them in the dark passage again.

Tallant resumed the lead, and continued on until the stairs abruptly stopped in a damp, musty smelling cave. Mage light revealed evidence of torches, boxes that probably contained tools to make more. Eschewing the torches, Tallant simply created more mage lights. When everyone was in the torch room, he pressed on, drawing his sword though he did not know what danger he expected to find.

What he didn't expect to find was a room filled with what was obviously objects belonging to the castle and its inhabitants. Tapestries, more of the gold and silver trees, arranged around an astonishingly accurate dollhouse of the castle. There were small chests filled with jewelry, trinkets, all manner of things.

"Marden is the thief," Cecil said, shaking his head. "Why would he steal all this stuff?"

Milton examined the castle dollhouse, fussing with a tiny wooden doll that obviously represented him. It stood in the main courtyard with a girl with red hair and a violet gown. He suddenly started laughing, and set down the Milton doll to pick up another one. He held it up—an elf doll, covered in tiny tattoos. "Look, Tallant. There's one of you!"

"Put that down!" Cecil snarled, and snatched the doll away. Even in the weak light, it was obvious his face had turned scarlet. "I really don't think now is the time to be playing with dolls!" Shoving the doll into one of his pouches, Cecil stomped out of the room, into whatever lay beyond.

Tallant snorted in amusement. Milton snickered. "It really could have been a doll of you, though Cecil obviously made it up. He had it with his doll in the private garden."

"I see," Tallant said, smiling.

"Told you he liked elves with tattoos," Milton said. "I cannot wait for the first time you two have a lover's quarrel and he throws you in the moat."

"Like I'd be stupid enough to argue with him in a place from which he can throw me."

Milton only sniggered, and they pressed onward.

Cecil was waiting for them—at the edge of a lake. "Gods in heaven," Milton said. "There's a lake beneath the castle?"

"Probably gets water from the same place that supplies our moat," Cecil said. "I almost didn't see it was water, it was so smooth. Only the boat gave it away." He pointed to a small boat off to the side; it didn't look like it could hold more than three people.

Their voices echoed eerily in the massive cavern, rippling out over the water before fading away.

Then they heard other voices. Female. Screaming for help.

"Let's go!" Milton said, then cupped his hands around his mouth and called out across the lake. "We're coming! Light a torch!" The words echoed, bounced, jarring against the cave walls and the water. Tallant wasn't certain the women would have understood them. But a moment later, he could see light. "Let's go," Milton repeated, and they all climbed into the small boat, Cecil reluctantly ordering the wolves to remain behind.

Tallant took up one oar, Cecil the other, and they rowed on Milton's command, moving steadily across the water, closer and closer to the flickering torchlight. They finally reached the shore of what seemed to be a small island. A cluster of young women shrieked as they landed, screaming and crying and cheering.

Slowly, they got the women to calm down and give them space, a chance to get out of the boat and to take proper stock of everything. Tallant could see Milton combing every face, fighting not to show his anxiety. Finally, though, Milton caved and asked, "Where is Her Grace?"

"Here," said a strident, beautiful voice. Milton whipped around, and Tallant followed his gaze—and he could see why Milton had thought her worth waiting through twelve years of banishment. Lady Irene was tall, slender, but obviously well-muscled, able to hold her own; Tallant remembered the sword that had hung from her chair. Her hair was a dark, coppery red, cut short, just barely reaching her chin. Though she currently wore an elaborate, dark violet ball gown, Tallant did not doubt for a moment she was more comfortable in pants and leather armor. On her right forearm was a tattoo—an apple tree, in red, green, and black ink, an exact match for the one on Cecil's forearm.

Irene smiled, tired but true. "Well, I'll be damned. I knew Cecil would come for me, but I did not dare hope you would have such excellent timing, Milly."

Milton pushed his way through the other women, and swept Irene up in a tight embrace, kissing her soundly. "Reni."

She stroked his face, tired and worn but obviously happy. "I always knew you'd come back."

"I arrived two days before my full twelve years were technically up," Milton replied. "I'm sorry it took me so long, Reni."

Irene laughed. "You're here, that's all that matters. And coming to my rescue! Such a good husband." She started to kiss him again, but Milton drew back, startled.

"Husband? But Cecil—"

"What?" Irene turned sharply, and looked at Cecil, who was looking distinctly sheepish. "You didn't tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Milton demanded, shooting his brother a look.

Cecil grimaced. "Well, first I was mad at him. Then there was never a good time. He deserved to suffer a bit." He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

"Tell. Me. What," Milton bit out.

Heaving a sigh and rolling his eyes, Cecil finally said, "I'm not actually married to her. That's what we told everyone, so the counsel couldn't stop me from taking over should the worst happen—but I'm not actually her husband. I stood as your proxy in the ceremony." He reached into one of his pouches and pulled out the ring Tallant had seen him toying with the other night, and tossed it to Milton.

Milton caught the ring easily, and stared at it, then his brother. "So this whole damned time—"

Irene cut the words off with a kiss. "I want to go home, Milton. Take me home. You two can bicker about it later."

"Of course," Milton said, but shot Cecil a last glare. Cecil ignored him, and instead turned back to the other women, reassuring them, sorting out who would go back in what order. Tallant stepped in to do the rowing, so that they could take two girls back at a time, instead of him and Cecil both rowing.

Eventually, it was only the four them remaining on the island. "So what's going on, Reni?" Milton asked.

Irene brushed irritably at sudden tears. "My father. He kidnapped all of us. I think he's killed Lily, Amber, and Mary."

"Why the gowns?" Tallant asked, not wanting to tell her just how the other girls had died quite yet.

"I think he liked pretending this place is his kingdom, and he's some king, or something, and we're the ladies of his court, here to entertain and please him." Irene said with a tired sigh. "Did you see all the stuff he's stolen? That aside, have you ever tried to swim in a ball gown? It's too cold to go without clothes down here, and he didn't leave us much—and by the time we were brought down here and deposited on the island, our night clothes were no good. I tried to swim once, completely naked, and then in just my undergarments, but it was too far and too cold."

Milton hugged her. "I'm sorry we didn't find you sooner."

"Come on, let's get back," Tallant said.

"Four won't fit in the boat," Cecil said. "Take them, then come for me."

Tallant started to argue, then decided it wasn't worth it.

"So are you Milton's friend or lover?" Irene asked once they were in the boat and on their way. "Or did he bring you back as a present for Cecil?"

Milton glared at her.

Tallant laughed. "I am perfectly happy to be a present, Your Grace, but I came because I am Milton's friend and battle-bonded."

Irene smiled. "I'm sure Cecil would not mind being given such a gift."

Tallant smirked. "He's been a bit stubborn so far, but he's coming around."

"Posturing," Irene said. "Thank you for helping to rescue us. I never did figure out what my father was doing, but he no longer seemed to know me when he took me and brought me down here."

"He was trying to fix the wards he broke," Milton said.

"I see," Irene said softly, and bowed her head. "Amber, Mary, and Lily are dead, aren't they?"

"Yes," Milton said gently, taking her hands. "I'm sorry." Irene nodded, but said nothing. They remained silent until they reached the shore, where the other girls stood waiting nervously, eyes flicking constantly to the doorway, obviously fearful Marden would appear at any moment.

"Go ahead and take the women out of here," Tallant said. "Cecil and I will come behind you, and I'll seal off the secret passages so that when Marden wakes, he can't go anywhere."

"Just make certain we can get in here again, to eventually retrieve all the stolen goods. We'll need to move His Grace, first, but that's a problem for the morning."

Irene nodded. "Let's get out of here. I am tired of living in the dark and cold. Whatever is your name, my friend?"

Tallant smiled, and swept her a bow. "Tallant."

"Tallant," Irene repeated. "Thank you. We will see you and Cecil soon."

"Of course, Your Grace," Tallant said, and climbed back into the boat, then began to row back to the island. His arms were killing him, and he would likely sleep away the day if they let him, but the effort was more than worth it. He reached the island a few minutes later and waited as Cecil stepped into the boat, more than happy to let him take over the oars. Tallant waited until they were well away from the island before saying, "So you're not married."

Cecil's rowing faltered a moment, but smoothly resumed in the next moment. "No."

Tallant smirked. "So you're available to court."

Cecil scowled. "I'm not a maiden to be courted."

"Would you have preferred I said woo?"

In reply, Cecil merely shot him a scathing look.

"Well, whatever you want to call it, I intend to make you mine," Tallant said.

That time, Cecil nearly dropped the oars. He stopped rowing altogether to glare at Tallant. "Why are you still playing these games?"

"It's not a game," Tallant replied, meeting his gaze.

"Is that what your necklace is telling you?" Cecil snapped.

"The token tells me my destiny, it's true," Tallant replied, "but it doesn't hand my destiny to me, or even guarantee I'll accept it. I don't need my token to tell me that you're mine."

Cecil ducked his head, face red, and resumed rowing.

Tallant wondered if he should be counting the conversation a win or a loss. Silence reigned as they reached the shore, which was deserted now save for Bite and Raze, who greeted Cecil enthusiastically, eager to ascertain for themselves that all was well with their master.

"So am I allowed to court you or not?" Tallant asked.

Cecil was silent at first, but then slowly lifted his gaze, chin jutting out in challenge. "I don't think you'll actually do it."

Tallant smirked and stepped closer. Though Cecil clearly wanted to take a step back, he held his ground—and continued to hold it even when Tallant was so close their bodies were nearly pressed together. Reaching up, Tallant undid the clasp of the thong that held his token. He fastened the necklace around Cecil's throat.

Cecil jerked. "What—you can't do that—"

"My fate is in your hands," Tallant said. "If you're the wolf I've been searching for my entire life, it's up to you to decide."

Cecil opened his mouth, but no words came out. Eventually, he managed, "Elves don't just give away their fate tokens!"

"So now you know this is no game," Tallant replied, and bent to kiss him. He swallowed Cecil's soft, startled noises and pressed the kiss deeper. Cecil tasted like wine, and sort of sweet, which suited him perfectly. He kissed sweetly too, shy and inexperienced, and Tallant loved it—but would love it more when Cecil kissed him with experience, with intent, brazen and bold.

"Sh-shouldn't we getting back upstairs?" Cecil asked when Tallant finally gave him a chance to speak.

"Probably," Tallant said, "but I preferred to make myself plain where your brother can't scowl at me for doing inappropriate things to his little brother."

Cecil bristled at that. "I can take care of myself."

"Trust me, I'm aware of that," Tallant murmured, then smirked and added, "But if you'd like help taking care of certain things—"

Cecil shoved him away. "Let's get back to work." Turning sharply around, he stalked back to the room filled with stolen goods. But Tallant did not miss the tentative way Cecil reached up to touch Tallant's token, which seemed to hang perfectly around his throat. Tallant missed the weight and feel of it around his own throat, but he liked better the way it looked on Cecil.

Smiling faintly, he followed Cecil back up to the door that led into the castle. He used his magic to seal the door and set an alarm so that he would know if someone else tried to tamper with it. When he finished, they returned to the tower proper. Slipping inside, they shut the door and Tallant went to work sealing it off as well. Across the room, in his bed, Marden still snored, oblivious to the thwarting of his plans. "Just how heavily did you drug him?" Tallant asked.

"Very heavily," Cecil replied. "I wanted to be damned sure he did not wake up. I didn't want him hurting anyone, and I did not want anyone to have to kill him, even if we probably should."

Tallant grimaced. "If we're going to fix the wards, we'll probably have to. He broke it, he's the only one who can fix it, unless we use Irene, which we're obviously not going to do."

"We'll have to find another way," Cecil said flatly.

Leaving the matter alone for the time being, Tallant looked over his spell work. "Hopefully my spells will hold for at least a little while."

Cecil nodded. "Let's go, then. I'm sure by now the entire castle is awake and crammed into the great hall." When they reached the great hall, Cecil's words proved true. The great hall was a cacophony of cheering, shouting, demands for answer, and other, scattered buzzing conversations. On the dais before the fireplace, Irene was attempting to speak. Cecil put his fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp, piercing whistle. When the room fell silent, he said, "Let Her Grace speak."

"Thank you, Rasnake," Irene said. "As you all can see, Milton, Cecil, and Tallant have rescued me and the Dancing Princesses. I am deeply sorry for those who were lost. They will be properly honored. I know everyone must have questions, but for the moment we all need healers and rest. These past many days have been agonizing for all of us. Know that the danger is past, that there will be no more kidnappings. Please, my dear people, take your daughters and tuck them safely into their beds. The rest can wait until morning."

Slowly, reluctantly, after dragging their feet and speaking to her individually, the crowd dispersed. Eventually, it was just the four of them once again. Irene sighed. "I do not know what to tell them. That my father, the man they followed for years, killed three women in a mad attempt to right his wrongs? I do not even know why he tried any of them, when from what Milton has told me, killing me would have fixed the problem."

"He was probably hoping they were of sufficiently strong blood, that he could avoid killing himself or his own daughter. Or, given you said he did not seem to know you, perhaps he could not tell which one was his daughter. "

Irene sighed again. "Another problem to solve in the morning. For now, I am going to sleep in my own bed, after I finally take some sort of damned bath. No one is to bother me until I come out of my room."

"Of course," Cecil replied.

Irene smiled and kissed his cheek. "It's good to see you again, bel. There were days I feared I would die down there in the dark."

Cecil gripped her arm, and she his, fingers wrapping around their matching apple tree tattoos. "I would never have let that happen, bela."

Brother. Sister. Tallant smiled faintly.

"I know," Irene said, then hugged him tightly. "Thank you for bringing my husband to me."

Cecil made a face. "You're welcome to him."

Irene's gaze dropped to the necklace around Cecil's throat. "Yes, I can see you've got better things to do with your time."

Cecil flushed. "Go away!"

Laughing, Irene bid them good night, then dragged a snickering Milton off.

"So do you have a place to bed down, now that you've been ousted from your bed by your brother?" Tallant asked.

Cecil gave him a puzzled look.

"I assumed you slept in her room, to keep up appearances."

"No," Cecil said tersely. "I always sleep here in the hall so that I'm immediately available should something go wrong outside." He gestured, and for the first time, Tallant noticed that bedding had indeed been set up near the fireplace.

Tallant shook his head. "I cannot believe the man most deserving of a bed instead sleeps on the floor."

Cecil scowled. "There's nothing wrong—"

"There isn't," Tallant agreed, cutting in. "You're just too good for your own good. Come sleep in Milton's bed."

"I'm not sleeping in Milton's bed. If a dragon comes—"

"We'll hear the cries just fine," Tallant replied, and wondered if he'd imagined the disappointment that flickered across Cecil's face when he'd said Milton's bed. "How about this, then: come and sleep in Milton's bed, or I'll come out here and sleep on the floor with you."

Cecil glared at him. "You are the most aggravating person I have ever met."

"Many would agree with you," Tallant said. "So what's it going to be, little flik. My room, or your floor?"

Swearing creatively, Cecil stalked off toward Tallant's room.

Smiling, Tallant followed.