Roses & Thorns (10 page)

"I
have often wondered if my Liege was not the more innocent of the lot."

"It
seems plain that the Count's second wife wanted to ensure that her offspring
would find favor over Drew. If that were the end, she might have used any means
at her disposal to guarantee it."

"That
would be a logical conclusion to draw, given the circumstances," Culdun
agreed.

"And
yet Drew not only doesn't see that possibility, but insists on shouldering all
the blame as well!"

"It
has always been so, as long as I have known my Liege."

Both
fell into silent contemplation as they moved on to the next shrub. Then
Angelique pressed, "Has there ever been an attempt to break the curse,
Culdun?"

"There
has, my Lady."

"Tell
me."

"There
have been several young women. All have come here of their own free will,
though none seemed too interested in my Liege or living here. They all departed
after a time. Most commonly, a young man would be found wandering near the
gates and brought in as Aloysius was, to stay for the night. His fancy would be
taken with the mistress, hers with him, and my Liege would arrange for a dowry
and the lady's departure. The only exception I recall involved a young lass who
had been traveling with her brothers. Highwaymen struck the lads down, but her horse
was swifter than the brigands'. She and her poor beast stumbled through our
gates nearly spent. It was lucky for her that there was a new moon that
night."

"A
new moon?"

He
looked at her. "You've noticed that the moon does not follow her normal
course here, haven't you?"

Angelique
shook her head. "I've had no cause to be outdoors after dark until last
night."

"Ah,
so then you don't know." He paused as if gathering his thoughts. After a
moment he continued, "This place has its own cycles. Although you grow a
day older when the sun rises, then sets, time moves differently here than it
does in the outside world. Most nights there is no moon at all in our skies and
the two worlds are not in phase. It was part of the witch's curse. But, though
it is unpredictable, for whatever reason on some nights the worlds become one
for a few short hours, and then the cobblestone road from the gate to the
palace is open."

"And
the poachers come?"

"No,
my Lady. They need the moon to see by. They come on those nights that are rarer
still, the nights when our worlds are so much in phase that a round, full moon
rises in our sky. We never know when these nights will occur but we must be
ever ready. Always remember: if you are ever out after dark and see a moon
rising, best come in quickly. Those are the nights that bring poachers with
their traps and their guns. And they always stir the forest animals into panic.
Those nights are not safe, my Lady. Not for any of us."

"And
yet my Liege rode out alone."

"Not
alone, Mistress. With magic as powerful as any mortal could ever behold. My
Liege is the only one who could dare to ride out as our protector."

A
wry, little smile curled her lips as Angelique sat back, staring at the trowel
in her hands. "There could not be much monster in one who would risk life
to defend us all."

"That
is true, Mistress," he answered. "But you should know, my Liege is
cursed beyond the edges of death. Pain or crippling are still heavy risks, but
until my Liege is wed, there will be no possibility of peace in death."

"No
possibility at all? Like you, Culdun?"

Culdun
responded with a deep, rumbling chuckle. "You'd like me to be immortal, my
Lady?"

"Not-quite-mortal
is different?"

"Very.
My folk know the lure of the faery lands well enough. We can dance back and
forth through that thin veil all our lives until, one day, the wine is too
sweet and the music too pretty.

And
then we — just stay. But I do admit, it is a time of our own choosing, and we
are a long-lived folk in the meanwhile."

"So
Drew couldn't choose death even after hundreds of years? Even if desired?"

He
nodded sadly. "The curse took that choice away."

"Yet
if Drew were to marry, that would change?"

"Something
would change, though exactly what is not clear. The palace exists because of
the curse, but it is not dependent on it any longer. Over the ages, my Liege
has acquired much power in the magickal arts, far more magick than the
witch-woman might ever have expected. But would breaking of the curse mean all
this would disappear? Or if the curse were broken, and my Liege wished to
leave, would this place then cease to exist?" Culdun only shrugged.

"What
would become of your folk, then?"

"Ah,
what of us?" Culdun mused. "We have talked of it. We agree. We would
never wish this timeless prison on our friend for even a second longer than
must be. It would be no hardship for us to simply cross into the faery mists.
Life here has been good to us. Then again, " Culdun nodded at his own
thoughts, "the sort of woman who would wed our friend may not be the sort who
would want to return to her family's home. We Old Ones have an acceptance for
differences that I've noticed your Continent doesn't always practice."

Angelique
could only agree with a solemn nod. She couldn't imagine the protective, gentle
Drew among those such as Aloysius and her brothers.

"But
enough of this melancholy talk." Culdun brushed his hands against the
material of his trousers. "Last night, the poachers were driven back once
more and today is a new day. Let us remember the beauty of the rose's bloom and
not dwell upon the thorns."

When
Culdun brought word later that Angelique would be dining alone once more, a
soft curse hissed just under her breath.

"Culdun,
might I trouble you to return a reply?"

"Most
certainly, my Lady?"

Culdun
waited patiently while Angelique composed a response. They shared a smile as
she said, "Please tell my Liege that unless my Liege is ill, I expect my
betrothed to pay me the common courtesy of dining with me.
Every
evening."

"Yes,
my Lady." He turned to go.

"And
Culdun," she added.

Inclining
his head, he acknowledged, "Yes, my Lady?"

"If,
by chance, my Liege does feel ill, I will present myself as a bedside attendant
and companion."

He
got as far as the door this time before she called again.

"And—"

They
both bit back laughter now.

"And,"
Angelique continued. "I'm going riding. There is no need for you to bring
me an answer as I will be quite unavailable until dinner."

"I
will relay your message, Mistress," Culdun replied, still smiling. And
with that, he slipped through the doorway and was gone.

"It's
nearly dark, Culdun. She's never been this late, you say?"

"Never,
my Liege."

Drew's
slim-fingered hand rubbed at aching muscles in shoulder and neck. The tall,
cloaked figure stared indecisively out of the study's window. Twilight was
settling its thin, bluish veil across the garden below, and the splashing
fountain of nymphs and seahorses was slowly fading into murky gray shadow.
"I should have given her a talisman sooner. Then we would know if she were
simply tucked away somewhere awaiting for me to appear for dinner."

"It
is possible. She was quite determined not to give you a chance to argue."

"What
makes you so certain she's not on the grounds, then?"

"She
bathes at the same hour every night. It is a ritual she enjoys, or so my nieces
say. Since it's well beyond that hour now, my Liege, I felt that I should tell
you."

Drew
turned from the window. "I dare say at Aloysius' she never had time for
even such small pleasures." There was a wry smile in that voice.
"Thank you for looking out for her, Culdun." Then, "We'd best
send someone into the village to ask for word of her. Perhaps some of the
children saw her riding out in the forest. Or else some of the farmers might
have seen her."

He
nodded. "I'll send someone right away." Halfway to the door he paused
and added, "It may be nothing, my Liege."

Drew
nodded faintly. "You're probably right. Let's wait until dinner before we
really panic, shall we?"

Culdun
was taken aback at the gentleness of Drew's humor. He could not remember the
last time Drew had laughed without bitterness.

"Still,
send someone now to the village."

"Of
course, my Liege."

Angelique
felt dizzy. The world around her was misty with twilight yet swirled like a
waltz. Someone pushed another cup of wine into her hand with a merry giggle,
and Angelique smiled, thinking she ought to have refused. But the music was
playing again, and the harp and pipes were so lively. More laughter filled her
ears and her companions, maids and youths seemingly as young as she, were
urging her to down the cup so she might join the dance again.

The
pale-leafed trees at the clearing's edge shimmered in the misty, blue-white
air. The center fire leaped high, and the lithe figures gaily jumped the
flames, moving in and out of the fire's glow as they danced. From one set of
hands to another Angelique was passed, spinning and gasping.

Coldness
crept in as full darkness descended, and Angelique thought she must be leaving
soon. But the sparkling dark eyes of yet another pair of dancers bewitched her,
and she gave in to the temptation of another round. Laughing, her dark hair
flying, she took their hands. Their skin was cold as death in her grasp.

Angelique
struggled to shake the cobwebs from her head. So tired. Sleep beckoned, aided
by the soft pillow of a maiden's lap. Cool fingers stroked her sweaty brow, and
Angelique smiled. A slender man, with bright dark eyes in a narrow, fine-boned
face, sank down beside her with a cup.

The
wine was chilled and sweet. It slid down her throat like crisp, cold water, and
Angelique thanked him with a smile. She fought sleep, tingling all over with
the icy touch of evening's air against her flushed skin. Her clothes felt heavy
— binding — and her hand pulled listlessly at the lacings on her vest.

The
maiden upon whose lap she reclined smiled tenderly, and Angelique felt the
woman's fingers leave off their light stroking of her brow to loosen the knot
that held the vest together. A hand took her own, and Angelique glanced again
to the youth beside her. He smiled, leaning closer.
He's going to kiss me,
Angelique
thought, feeling nothing but a faint sense of surprise, and then understood
that this was only to be expected.

As
Angelique stared at the youth, a hand settled on his shoulder. Startled, he
halted. Then that sparkling joy returned to his eyes as he recognized the
newcomer. There was something familiar about the stranger, Angelique thought.
But she couldn't quite place what it was.

Then
suddenly she knew. She recognized the tapered lines of that hand. Only usually
it was sheathed in black. But not this time. Angelique moaned as she felt the
touch of that hand to her skin for the first time.

"Angelique!"
The voice was sharp. She tried to speak, but her tongue felt heavy as a stone
in her mouth. She groaned instead and struggled to focus her eyes.

"Angelique!"

"Don't
be angry—" she mumbled faintly, barely able to force her eyes to stay
open. Everything was a swimming blur. "I wouldn't have been late for
dinner."

"I'm
not angry." The words were soothing now and Angelique relaxed. Drew's arms
slid beneath her, lifting her from the cool grass. She made a soft sound,
snuggling against Drew's solid warmth, and lifting her arms so she could slip
them around Drew's neck.

"I'm
so cold." She was shivering now. A cold deeper than a midwinter storm
stole into her. Her teeth began to chatter, and she pushed against Drew's
sheltering heat.

"It's
all right. We'll be home soon."

But
it wasn't all right. She felt numb and groggy, but below the disorientation,
fear was starting to collect in her belly. "Drew—" she began, but the
rest of her words were choked by sobs. She felt a momentary sense of being
elsewhere, suspended in time and space, alone and unsheltered. She tried to cry
out, but before her voice could find expression, she opened her eyes to a
familiar scene — her own room.

The
lamps were lit and a fire burned in the hearth. Culdun's face swam into view as
did those of his two nieces. They fussed around her. In a moment, she was
bundled into woolen nightclothes and surrounded by a thick comforter. Culdun
guided a brandy glass to her lips. "All of it, Mistress," he urged.

She
choked on the fiery amber but didn't protest. Its sting made her feel real.

"Now,
put her before the fire," the Old One ordered, and once again Drew's
strong arms enfolded her, quilt and all. They settled on the floor at the foot
of the grand bed. Angelique leaned into the embrace, burrowing into the bulky
eiderdown. After a moment, her teeth stopped chattering and the ache in her
chest eased as panic receded. Culdun knelt to peer at her. He gave a satisfied
sort of nod and touched a rough knuckle to her cheek. "You gave us quite a
scare, my Lady. How did you come to be in that place?"