Dockalfar (34 page)

His grin was lazy and speculative. He looked over her head at the morning sky. “A lovely morning. Are you always up so early?”

“I like the solitude,” she replied bluntly. “I don’t sleep much past sunrise.”

“Perhaps if you had something to occupy you late into the night, you would find sleep easier in the morning hours.”

The blush rose of its own accord. She looked down. Anywhere but his intense gaze. There was something lecherous and greedy in his eyes that made her skin crawl. It was as if he thought, after sharing one dance with him, she somehow owed him. That he had some claim on her.

“Excuse me, I only stopped here to get a breath of fresh air.” She waited a breath for him to move and when he did not, squeezed past on her own, brushing the length of his body with hers.

He had planned it that way, of course.

She found she hated him for that small manipulation. Thankfully he said nothing more to her as she hurried out of the garden. She headed straightaway for her room, the only haven of safety that had proven secure since her stay in the Unseelie court. She doubted seriously that she could bring herself to leave it for the rest of the day.

~~~

Leanan’s room was dim and quiet in the stillness of the morning. She never rose until the sun was far past the mid-point in the sky. Generally Alex did not either, since he had been keeping her late hours, but the nightmares had him up with the dawn this morning. He sat in the window alcove, with one of Leanan’s voluminous robes wrapped about himself.

The forest was a hazy, velveteen covering for the mountain’s sharp contours.

Occasionally a bird would rise from its shielded mass and fly off towards the south. Lazily he let the roving eye of his telepathic magic latch onto the few avian travelers. He did not go far, that attracted unwanted attention. He had no desire to be slapped down by Azeral or even Leanan for venturing further than they felt proper.

Azeral claimed it was unsafe for him to range too far in his mental travels. Alex wondered who it was unsafe for. He was very good at mind ranging. Better than Azeral or Leanan suspected. It reminded him of flying, of the freedom to soar above the clouds at terrific speeds. He tested his limits for the thrill. If he could have done it bodily instead of mentally he would gladly have flung himself from the window, but levitation was not one of the magics he was skilled in. He was best at the mind-flying.

He let go of the bird he had been traveling with and went on by himself. He soared low over the forest top, spying on the denizens who made their homes at the very pinnacle of treetops. None of them ever sensed him, lower order creatures that they were. He had become adept even at evading the senses of the higher watchers. If you wanted to go fast and far you ran with engines full blast, anyone watching could see you coming for miles away. If it was secrecy you desired you ran with your engines off and glided. He had learned the glide on his own. He was proud of the ability. It was the one thing he kept secret from his hosts, the one skill that he was afraid they would prohibit him from. It was a battle to keep that secret, for all his instincts screamed at him to trust in them completely, but the longing to fly uninhibited by Azeral’s restraints won out. And with the victory came the niggling little questions over why Azeral deserved his loyalty so completely.

And lately came the dilemma of Victoria. He was amazed at himself. He had actually forgotten her. He had become so enamored with Leanan that Victoria had slipped his mind. Leanan was his world, his love. That fact was rooted deep down in his mind, but he could not quite reconcile the idea that he had overlooked Victoria’s presence so completely. She had been lost and in danger and he had blithely gone about courting Leanan. It was so irresponsible. The least he could have done was occasionally worry over her safety. But he had forgotten how she looked, how she sounded, her smell, the things they had done together when they were growing up. How did a man forget those things? It was like someone had gone inside his head and wiped the memories out of existence. But they had not done a good job, for they kept popping up unexpectedly.

He glanced over to Leanan, a shapely form under silken covers, hair spilling about her like a golden fall of water. She was everything he had ever dreamed about, ever wanted. She made him forget everything else. And yet…. For the first time he wondered idly whether it was her face and figure that stilled thoughts of other women, or whether it went deeper.

Was it enchantment of a different kind?

He recalled the insurmountable net he had sensed about Victoria when she had confronted him that last time. Azeral had done that in fear of her awesome power.

More power than Alex had. He had felt it that night when she had first come here.

Felt the inexorable gathering of the same power he drew upon, but in such great mass. He had never had access to that much power. And she had pulled it in so easily and released it against him. If not for Azeral and the combined strength of his court, he and Leanan would have been smears on the floor. Victoria had that much power. And Azeral had curbed it.

He had gone inside her mind, while she was unconscious and walled her off from the earth magic. He had manipulated so great a power. How hard to manipulate a lesser one?

~~~

The gnomish wench heaved her bucket of cleaning water into the passage way in front of Bashru. The dirty water sloshed on his leathery feet. He glowered at her, showing yellowed, rotting teeth in a snarl. The gnome leered back, bending in such a manner to show off flabby, bristly mammary flesh.

“Clumsy wench,” Bashru muttered darkly. One could appreciate hairy breasts, even on a gnome.

“The little bakatu was down here lookin’ fer you, Bashru laddie.” The wench smirked. Bashru’s glower descended to a scowl. He hunched his shoulders. There was no need to clarify that the bakatu was human. The kitchen wench would hardly know the difference.

“So?”

“So you roving in high circles fer a spriggan. Playin’ with the high one’s toys.”

He grumbled a curse at the gnome and shouldered past, kicking her bucket enough to slosh a great puddle of dirty water on the passage floor. The gnome hissed.

“Little witch found the Ciagenii instead. She’s got a taste for filth, huh?”

Bashru tossed back a insult towards her offspring. No use insulting a gnome’s ancestors, since no gnome knew who they might be. Fate was looking poorly on Bashru. He was certain that his luck was souring. Why the human wench kept pestering him was beyond his ability to comprehend. He certainly did not encourage her visits. In fact he did his best to insult her. But she stubbornly insisted on holding him in some esteem. He could not understand it. Brainless wench. Had the sidhe fawning all over her and she chose to associate with the likes of him.

Then went after the assassin when by all rights she should be avoiding him like a mountain troll on a rampage.

He shook his shaggy head. Never would he understand females, spriggan, human or otherwise. But in the back of his crafty, little mind, there began a worry that something might be wrong with the wench.

That she was too stupid to take care of herself and might have been looking for a bit of spriggan advice. Not that he cared one whit. Not one whit at all. But the worry would not go away.

~~~

The birds were back on the window sill. Victoria opened her eyes to the coolness of early morning and found them sitting side by side on the ledge. They were watching her rather intently. She lay under the covers for some time and watched them back. Already her mind was revolving around a plan to place some treat especially tasty to birds on the window ledge in hopes of training them to return each morning. She had visions of the creatures perching on her shoulders.

She shifted under the coverlet. The air was chill this morning. From the diffuse quality of light coming in through the window, she assumed the sky to be cloud covered. She carefully put a leg to the floor and slid out from the warmth of her bed. The two birds perked up, cocking their heads, eyes glittering with interest.

She wondered if they made it a habit to visit window ledges. Did they expect a handout? She drifted over to her breakfast tray and picked up a flaky biscuit. She crumbled it and placed it on her palm.

Holding out the offering she approached her visitors. The smaller of the two shifted its weight nervously. She made a step towards them. The larger bird ruffled its crest and squawked at her. It sidled over to nudge its companion then dropped off the ledge. The other bird followed much the same as before.

Disappointed, Victoria leaned over the ledge and tossed her handful of crumbs to the wind. Feeling rejected, she turned her back to the open window and stared morosely into her room. She knew its details well. After several days of self-imposed confinement she was only too familiar. Azeral had sent several invitations for her company. She had declined them all. She was thankful at least that he was not a demanding warden.

He had, after all, all the time in the world to wait her out.

The wardrobe that had been supplied her was vast. She picked through its contents disinterestedly, finally settling on a simple gown of white with gold trim. It was modest as far as any sidhe design was, and warm. A leather girdle and short leather boots finished her dressing. She set out with staunch determination to find something of interest in the keep that morning. With a breakfast cake in hand she left her room and headed towards some of the less popular garden alcoves.

Even if any of the court were up at the early hour, they most certainly would not be passing time in the older gardens. She skipped down a broad range of steps, listening to the echo of her footfalls. It was easy to forget sometimes, in the greater halls, with the air uncluttered by stone above her head, and no courtesans about, what a dark place this was.

Sometimes it was just a miracle in masonry.

A brook crossed the hallway, starting under one wall and leading into a dome topped garden on the other side. A ornate bridge crossed it down the center. The sound of running water was a enlightening chorus. She passed that room, though, knowing it did not open to the outside world and wanting to see the sky and the mountains. She knew of a garden further away with a fetching little pond of its own, twisted leafy trees and an array of flowering plants. Its balcony looked out over the eastern side of the keep. There were shaded paths among the trees and boulders just the right height for sitting.

The arched doorway was framed by sculptures of exotic animals. It was chipped in places, either forgotten by the artist or done by hands long gone from this place. There was deep shadow when she first stepped into the garden. The plants that thrived in half light grew en masse by the door way and under the overhang of the terrace above. She moved out into the sunlight, wrapping her arms about herself in reaction to the morning breeze. The faraway sounds of the forest denizens could just be made out if the wind turned the right way. She settled against the balcony wall, and looked out over the edge of the keep. There was nothing below but the outer battlements far, far beneath her. It was a very isolated spot, which was perhaps why the sidhe found little use for it, social creatures that they were. She shifted and the mortar crumbled a bit under her weight. It was ancient and yellowed and moss encrusted in some places. She knocked a pebble of it off and watched it disappear below. She retreated to a boulder and settled down upon its curved surface.

Her captivity…

The trouble she was presently in, was her own fault. No one had forced her along this path. She had been determined to follow it and had succeeded admirably.

Had the Liosalfar forgotten about her?

Could they imagine the depths of trouble she had thrown herself into? They had warned her. Ashara had been adamant in her refusal to have anything to do with the Unseelie court. Victoria, in her ignorance, had assumed she might know better than folk who had fought for survival in this world for hundreds of years. Thousands.

She was a child who had thrown a tantrum, then connived to have her way and look where it got her. The Seelies had no obligation to her. They had befriended her, taught her and she had betrayed them.

She hoped that, if nothing else, they took care of Phoebe. A warm gulun kitten would have been very welcome at that moment. Something that loved her regardless what she had done, with no reservations.

A fallen twig snapped behind her.

The peace was broken with startling clarity. She turned her head slowly, dreading the intrusion, hoping it was a servant that she could chase away. She had no such luck. Deigah leaned against a tree, his face in shadow. She could still see his satisfied smirk. He had followed her. There was no other explanation. His pestering was becoming a problem and she no longer desired to be polite.

“I was enjoying a bit of privacy, if you don’t mind?”

“You enjoy too much privacy.” His voice was low. There was a look in his eyes that suggested that he had not yet been to bed. “I was unaware that humans needed so much time alone.”

She did not want to trade witticisms with him. She wanted him gone. Failing that she would retreat herself.

“Is this some plan of Azeral’s?” she asked quietly. “If it is, I don’t understand, for you’ve blatantly failed to interest me. Or is it to chase me to Azeral’s protection?”

He circled the path around her boulder seat. He took her in from every angle. She turned to follow his movements.

“Azeral has nothing to do with this.”

There was nothing between herself and the exit. Deigah was framed by gray sky. If he chose to, he could stop her. Her skirts would be hampering if she needed to run.

“What do you want?”

The sidhe chuckled. “What an obvious question. Do you wish the obvious answer?”

She drew a deep, tremulous breath.

“You are very stubborn. I’ve made it clear I want no part of you.”

“No part?” He lifted a brow. She blushed despite herself.

She rose, primly folding her hands before her. With a tilt of her chin, she stated. “If you do not leave me alone, I will be forced to go to Azeral with complaint.”