Chapter Nine

 

 

Tallant opened his eyes, awake and refreshed—then froze as he realized he wasn't the only one in his bed.

Of all people, Cecil was curled up against him—all but burrowing into him, really. Their legs were tangled together, Cecil's arm was draped over Tallant's waist, and his head curled against Tallant's chest. Like his brother, he snored softly. Tallant knew the noise drove most people crazy, but it had never bothered him, not after the racket he had grown up with sleeping in a single large common room with dozens of other children and a smattering of adults.

What surprised him was how easily, how deeply, he'd slept with Cecil beside him. The only person he could sleep with that comfortably was Milton, and they didn't curl up like this unless Milton failed to break free of Tallant's leeching tendencies. Even then, it didn't feel like sleeping with a lover.

A lover. The word struck him, warmed him, in a way that he hadn't expected. He truly liked the idea of Cecil as his lover. As much as he'd toyed with the idea before, it hadn't really taken root until now. It was a bit startling how deeply the desire for Cecil, to bond with him, ran after only a couple of days.

Was it really that startling, though? Cecil was strong, honorable, smart, and self-sacrificing to the point of stupidity. He clearly felt things deeply and that depth of passion drove everything he did. Rare was the person who could not only win the loyalty of a band of thieves, but that of wild animals.

On a more base level, he did not feel bad at all pressed up against Tallant. It was too bad there would be no kissing and touching and soft words when Cecil woke. In fact, he was pretty certain he was a dead man the moment Cecil opened his eyes. Getting himself out of harm's way now would probably be a wise move, but he could not bring himself to do it.

How in the world had Cecil even wound up in his bed? For that matter, how had he wound up in his bed? But that was obvious—Cecil had gotten stuck with the duty of dragging him to bed, probably because Milton knew damn good and well that Tallant had a bad habit of getting clingy. Like a leech, Milton always said, though he'd gotten good over the years at breaking away from Tallant's clinginess.

More than likely, Cecil had tried to do the same, but while attempting to wait Tallant out he had probably fallen asleep. What time was it? He shifted enough to turn his head and glance over his shoulder. Milton's bed was empty, but had clearly been slept in recently, and he could see so it must be morning at least, possibly early afternoon.

Lord, if Cecil didn't kill him, Milton definitely would; except Milton must have been the one to tell Cecil to get Tallant to bed, so who knew. Turning back around, Tallant immediately froze, staring into bright, sharp, furious green eyes. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. "Possibly good afternoon. I'm not sure which yet."

In reply, Cecil shoved.

Tallant toppled off the bed and landed with a pained grunt on the stone floor.

"What is wrong with you?" Cecil hissed, glaring at him over the side of the bed.

"Depends on who you ask," Tallant replied slowly sitting up. "But, so far as this goes," he motioned to Cecil in his bed, "I'm always a leech. Milton says it's annoying as hell. My siblings said the same thing. It's nothing personal or mischievous. I'm just clingy when extremely tired, the way only using too much magic too fast usually leaves me."

Cecil frowned, not looking even remotely mollified.

"I swear," Tallant said. "There were no games being played. Trust when I say that any games I play with you involving a bed, will also require an absence of clothing." He really should not have said it, but he simply could not resist.

True to form, Cecil flushed dark red, even as he scowled. "I've no interest in games with you, elf."

"Now that's not true," Tallant countered.

Cecil said nothing, merely pushed himself into a sitting position and made to stand. "I have no patience for games," he finally hissed, "especially those played at my expense."

Tallant sprang up and grabbed him, pushed him back down into the bedding. "Make no mistake, little flik. Any game I play with you will be for keeps."

"Is that what your necklace is telling you to do?" Cecil demanded scathingly.

"Not my token," Tallant murmured.

"Get off me," Cecil snapped. "I have things I need to do; I don't have time to play your stupid games."

Tallant rolled off him, and stepped well away from the bed.

Cecil stood up, rumpled and pissy, and Tallant wanted nothing as badly as he wanted to push Cecil back down on his bed and fuck him senseless. He waited until Cecil reached the door, then moved, grabbing him and pushing him against the wall next to the door. Cecil snarled a protest and started to shove him again, but he'd barely gotten a single world out when Tallant muffled it with a kiss.

It only lasted a moment, but it was a moment seared into his memory. He definitely required no token to tell him that Cecil was his. Tallant pulled away. "I don't play games." Cecil looked at him, obviously not certain what to feel—anger, lust, uncertainty, wistfulness, and fear all flickered across his face.

The anger won, and he burst forward, shoving Tallant so hard he tumbled hard to the ground again. "It certainly seems like a game to me," Cecil hissed, then yanked the door open and fled. Tallant picked himself up, shaking his head in amusement. He probably should not be so amused, but Cecil was something else again.

Milton could not be embarrassed or flustered, not so easily as that. Tallant was no better. Twelve years was entirely too much time to get into the sort of situations that stripped men of modesty and shame. Spending a night in jail with not so much as a stitch of clothing between them, only a blanket given to them by a pitying guard, had been one of the main reasons.

He could not remember ever knowing someone so easily flustered by a mere kiss—or maybe it was the execution of the kiss. Hmm. He'd have to try something softer for the next one, once Cecil cooled off enough to drop his guard. There were also more important matters to deal with. After they saved the women, there was the small matter of a marriage to deal with—

But all in good time, and he was honest enough to admit that, should another opportunity present itself, he would shamelessly steal another kiss. Whistling, Tallant strapped his weapons into place, gathered up the books someone had returned to his room, and headed out.

In the great hall, Milton sat alone at the main table, eating breakfast and clearly lost in thought. He looked up as movement caught his eye—then rolled his eyes. "So Cecil just blew through here looking to take heads and questioning your mother's integrity," he said dryly. "I take it Cecil does not approve of your leech-like tendencies?"

Tallant shrugged. "I think he was more upset by the kiss, actually."

Milton's eyes widened in surprise, but then he merely shot Tallant an amused look. "Wasting no time, are we?"

"I am not one to ignore an opportunity when it presents itself."

"Uh-huh," Milton replied. "Let me guess, your token told you to do it."

Ignoring that, Tallant stole Milton's mug and drank down the hot cider.

"Hey!" Milton protested. He motioned for a passing servant to fetch more. "So what happened and why did you take liberties with my brother?"

"Why do you ask?" Tallant replied. "Do you really want to know?"

"Never mind," Milton said hastily. "Not what I meant. I swear to god—"

"I'm not thinking with the token around my neck or the one in my pants, Milton. Shut up, already. You know me better than that."

Milton said nothing, only snatched his mug back and refilled it from the pitcher the servant had brought.

Tallant snagged the extra mug she'd also brought along, and filled it. "So what did I miss, while I had your brother pinned in bed?"

Scowling, Milton kicked him under the table. Mollified for the moment by Tallant's grunt of pain, he said, "They've begun work on the new drawbridge. Cecil's men have done a lot of crazy shit with ropes to begin hacking up the dragon and carting away the pieces. I wanted to look around the chapel last night, but I collapsed not long after you. We found you dead to the world and I got Cecil to cart you off."

"Knowing full well how clingy I got," Tallant added, amused.

"I'm not going to deny it's amusing as hell to fluster him, but I didn't expect you to kiss him so soon." He kicked Tallant under the table again.

Tallant rolled his eyes. "All this protesting is rich coming from a man exiled for twelve years for getting frisky with Her Ladyship."

Milton smirked. "She was the one insisting on riding lessons."

"I rest my case," Tallant said, and opened the first of his six books. "Unless you've need of me elsewhere, I am going to sit here and study. I need to learn more about the wards—and how you know who broke them."

"So he can use magic?" Milton asked. "Because I'm just not clear on that point."

"He can use it about as well as a novice can use a sword—a self-taught novice at that."

Milton winced. "Enough knowledge to know absolutely nothing."

"Basically," Tallant replied.

"Then you read. Just say if you need anything. Tonight, you and I are exploring the chapel. I want an end to all of this, one way or another, and I want it soon."

Tallant smiled briefly. "Yes, my lord."

Rolling his eyes, Milton finished his cider, clapped Tallant on the shoulder, and departed. The great hall fell silent in his wake, but Tallant supposed all available hands were outside working on the drawbridge. Settling into his seat, Tallant began to read.

He did not look up from his reading until the sound of boots, the rattle of weapons, broke his concentration. He looked up to catch Cecil glaring at him, though he did not think it was anger turning those cheeks pink. "Hello, Cecil. Can I help you with something?"

Cecil's cheeks darkened, but he said nothing, only sat down at the farthest end of the table. Only then did Tallant notice the bandages, the way Cecil's left forearm was bleeding. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Cecil said tersely.

Tallant snorted. "You're bleeding, and came all the way in here to deal with it. You are willing to endure me, rather than go somewhere else to tend it, so you must be in pain."

"If I'm bothering you, I am more than happy to go somewhere else," Cecil snapped, and made to stand—but then went white and dropped back into his seat.

Rolling his eyes, Tallant leapt neatly over the table, strode the end of it, and shoved Cecil back down into his seat.

"Let. Me. Go," Cecil hissed, and tried to stand again.

Tallant smiled, and said cheerfully, "Sit down, or I'll knock you to the floor and pick up where we left off this morning."

Cecil glared at him, green eyes sparking fury, face red—but he stayed seated. Releasing his grip on Cecil's shoulders, Tallant sat down next to him and examined what proved to be bloody scratched. "What happened?"

"Just tearing apart the dragon," Cecil said sourly. "I slipped and scraped my arm against a ragged chunk of scale."

Tallant smiled faintly and resisted an urge to rake back the wet, dirty braids and steal a kiss from the pouty mouth. "Slunk in here to avoid fussing?"

Cecil nodded, and tried to withdraw his arm, but Tallant held fast. "Now, now," he chastised, then focused his magic and rested his free hand gently over the wounds. He cast a light healing spell, enough to close the wounds and ease the worse of the pain. When he was certain it had set, he let go of Cecil's arm slowly. "There you go."

Cecil stared at his arm, then slowly looked up at Tallant—but then immediately dropped his gaze, before saying stiffly, "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Tallant said. "Speaking of magic, I have been doing what I can to study the wards all day. Here, you can look over my notes and tell me what you think. Sworn brother though he be, Milton has very little interest in studying the magic he's always making me use."

Cecil snorted, clearly amused, but said nothing. Grinning, Tallant went to fetch his books. Seeing a servant, he signaled for food and drink. Gathering up his books, he rejoined Cecil at the end of the table and presented his notes first. Eying him warily, Cecil slowly took the notes and began to read. Frowning, he read them again, then pulled out one of the books from the stack.

Recognizing a scholar lost, Tallant withdrew slightly. When the servant arrived with food and drink, Tallant thanks her quietly and sipped at his ale while he watched Cecil continue to read and write. Such a contrast, this earnest scholar from the prickly warrior that was all he'd so far seen. Though, Tallant did rather like the hard, rough look of him. Scholar he might be, but Tallant could not picture Cecil with more scholarly looks. The image of Cecil in robes and soft, loose hair just did not work. He liked the leathers, the braids and bangles, the way Cecil could hold his own in any fight.

For all that, however, he suspected Cecil would be soft and pliant in bed, and wanted fervently to find out. The urge to steal another kissed was strong, but Tallant resisted. If he pushed too hard, he'd only cause more harm than good. He filled a second glass and set it near Cecil, where he could grab it easily but wouldn't accidentally knock it over.

He smiled when, sure enough, Cecil reached absently for it and drank, never breaking stride in his reading and writing. Tallant continued to watch and eat, until Cecil finally seemed to pause. "So what have you determined?"

"That we are definitely looking for someone with magical ability," Cecil said absently, not looking up. "We knew that, I suppose, but it would take a solid knowledge base to break the wards even just by accident. I wish we had a book on the wards themselves. This is all supposition and guess work, really. But to judge by what we do have, someone likely attempted to alter the wards and instead broke a portion of them. But if the damage was so deep that the obelisk is beginning to fracture…"

"Then it will, as you feared, only get worse," Tallant said.

"And we may not be able to fix it," Cecil finished, and finally looked up. His eyes were dark with worry.

Tallant moved a bit closer, unable to not. "We'll fix it."

Cecil glared. "You can't know that. If what I'm reading is correct, then it would take the blood of whoever broke the wards in the first place, and we don't know who that is."

"Lord Morden," Tallant replied.

"That's impossible."

"No, it's not," Milton said, causing them both to whip around in surprise. He looked between them, and smirked in amusement. "I might have known Tallant would seduce you away with books."

Cecil flushed and made to stand, but Milton grabbed his shoulder and forced back down. "Don't run off, Cecil. All is coming along nicely outside. I came to see how Tallant was faring. If you're helping him, it can only be going very well indeed. What have you learned?"

"That Lord Morden was probably trying to tweak the wards in some way, and succeeded only in breaking them, and his mind."

"Morden is locked up!" Cecil burst out. "We check the locks every single day, morning, midday, and evening."

Tallant motioned to the books. "Put all that aside. Pretend for a moment that the imprisonment was not a factor. Does he fit?"

Cecil was silent for several long minutes, then closed his eyes in resignation and said, "Yes, minus the imprisonment, it could be Marden. He loves magic, he has gone insane, and it happened right around the time the wards broke. He has the knowledge—but not the ability. Assuming the person who broke the wards and the kidnapper are the same person, why would he kidnap the women?"

"Because he has gone mad, and is desperate. I doubt he fully comprehends his own actions anymore.

"Fine," Cecil said flatly. "Is magic unlocking doors, too?"

Tallant smiled faintly. "Oddly enough, it can. I doubt His Grace knows that spell. He uses far more mundane secret passages."

"The secret passage goes nowhere near the tower," Cecil snapped. Tallant and Milton stared at him in shock. "What?" Cecil asked. "You do mean the passage that leads out of the castle, hidden in the chapel right?"

Milton laughed. "Well I'll be damned. It does exist."

Cecil seemed to wilt. "You don't mean that one. Which one, then?"

"The one in the tower, that probably leads to the rest of the castle," Tallant replied, and related their recent midnight adventures.

"Why didn't you didn't fucking tell me—" Cecil stood up, furious.

Tallant yanked him back down again, smiling sweetly. "Sit."

Cecil flushed, and jerked his arm free, but remained seated. "So he sneaks out of the tower, and has the run of the castle—and he has a way out. Right beneath my nose the entire fucking time!" He slammed his fist down on the table. "Damn it!"

"We know now," Milton said. "What we need to do now is get into that secret passage in the tower. That should provide some new clues."

Tallant frowned. "How do we get past the duke, and keep him out of our way?"

"Drug him," Cecil said. "Put it in his evening meal, his late night drink. Keep him dead asleep, and we can do as we like."

Tallant shared a look with Milton, then shrugged. "Sounds good to me, if you think it will work."

"It will," Cecil replied. "I'll deliver his evening meal myself, just to ensure it."

"Good," Milton replied, and clapped them both on the shoulder. "We'll meet at the base of the tower at half past midnight."

Cecil nodded and rose. "I'm bringing Bite and Raze."

Milton started to object, but in the end only nodded. "I can see where they'd prove useful. Where are you going now?"

"Do you want to see the secret passage I know?" Cecil asked.

"Yes," Tallant said, and stood up.

Milton sighed. "Yes, but I had best get back outside. You will have to show me later."

"We will," Tallant said, and cheerfully ignored the look Milton shot him, a warning not to do anything funny while alone with Cecil in dark, confining quarters.

Tallant had no plans to do any such thing, but he would not say no if the opportunity presented itself either.

When Milton was gone, he followed Cecil from the great hall, through the maze-like castle the chapel. "So where is it? We were planning to look for it tonight."

"You could have asked for my help," Cecil said.

"You were barely speaking to us," Tallant replied. "There is also the fact that no one was taking our suggestions of Marden seriously."

Cecil said nothing, only strode through the chapel all the way to the altar. Moving to the high, marble topped altar itself, he grasper the marble top and shoved. To Tallant's astonishment, the top moved neatly forward, obviously mounted on some sort of mechanism. Drawing close, he peered over the edge, and saw a ladder.

"It goes down pretty far, to a narrow tunnel. It runs beneath the moat, I think. Coming?" He leapt neatly onto the edge of the altar, swung onto the ladder, then vanished into the shadows.

Rolling his eyes, Tallant summoned a mage light, then followed Cecil down into the damp, musty dark of the secret passage out of the castle.

His foot struck something, and Tallant redirected his mage light lower to the ground in order to locate it. A shoe—a dancing slipper. He gingerly picked it up, and examined the dirt and blood that covered it. "I wonder why he puts them in their formal clothes," Tallant said. "What purpose would that serve?"

"I'm sure it makes sense to His Grace," Cecil replied. "For my part, I'd just as soon prefer not to comprehend the workings of a lunatic mind."

"A good point," Tallant said, and dropped the shoe again. Brushing his hands off, he restored his mage light to its proper height. "Let's continue. Where does this come out?"

"The forest," Cecil replied, and resumed walking. They continued on for several more minutes, and Tallant silently marveled at the labor involved in building such a long, deep tunnel. Eventually, they emerged to fading sunlight; the setting sun bled orange, red, and yellow through the dense foliage of the forest.

High boulders surrounded them, and Tallant could hear the running of a creek. A cropping of rocks, and the space between them limited—it was little wonder no one had ever come across the secret passage. Tallant climbed up onto the rocks, and looked around, realizing he knew where they were. "This isn't far from the wards, but it's a good distance from the castle. An escape tunnel in case of siege, I would imagine. The escapees could flee here, and travel close to the wards until they reached safety." Cecil nodded in re ply. "How in the world did you find it?"

"The castle has been added on to, rebuilt, and otherwise altered over the decades," Cecil said. "Of the original structure, only the great hall, the solar, the chapel, and the barracks remain. I knew if Henry's stories were true, then the secret passage would be in one of those rooms. They wouldn't put it in the great hall or the solar, or in the barracks. It would be far too easy for just anyone to find or stumble across."

Tallant smiled. "They needed a safe, secure place over which a trusted person could always watch without seeming to watch. The chapel."

Cecil nodded. "Yes. So I explored the chapel until I found it."

"You never told anyone?"

"I told Irene," Cecil replied. "She elected to keep it between the two of us. We didn't want anyone messing around and breaking their fool necks, or sneaking out after curfew."

"Wise call," Tallant said. He looked out over the landscape. "So he dragged the girls out here, then to the wards. The first two got away from him, and tried to get home. They probably didn't have their bearing at all, poor things. The third girl he drugged."

Cecil nodded again, and kicked at the ground, one hand curling around the hilt of one sword. "We need to drug him and get into that other secret passage. Hopefully it will lead us to the women."

"I hope so," Tallant agreed. "Shall we head back?" In reply, Cecil simply turned and vanished back into the tunnel. Shaking his head in amusement, Tallant followed him, calling up another mage light to beat back the darkness of the tunnel.