Anne and I emerged into the great hall and made our way over to the hearth where Godwin and his sons were deep in conversation. It was becoming extremely chilly of a night time and I despaired of the winter arriving far sooner than was desired. For my part, winter was never desired.

I could feel my skin breaking out into goose flesh, partly from the bite in the air and partly because of whom I was headed towards, but Lucian seemed not to feel the bitter temperature. The fires blazed on with kinetic furor, yet I shivered miserably; the cold was an all-pervasive thing that filtered through my skirts as I walked and gouged at my legs with icy claws.

Lucian was standing furthest from the fire and staring into it with sullen introspection. The other men within the hall were dressed in padded doublets, thick surcotes and heavy, fur-trimmed mantles, but he wore only a fine, woolen hose, a plain linen shirt, a mid-thigh length, unpadded cote that was buttoned up the front of his broad chest, and a belt sitting loosely at his hips — no parti-colored gipon or paltock for him. No dandified, outlandish, long-toed shoes of differing hues either for he was decidedly no foppish aristocrat: Lucian wore only somber reds and dark browns to match his cimmerian character.

The thought made me grimace in irony for it did not signify what he was garbed in; he would have been equally as intimidating, whatever the inconsequentiality of his disguise. In short, whether in bright colors or dark, he was no less frightening to behold.

"Ah, ladies, I commend your good effort at endeavoring a punctual arrival," Godwin drawled mordantly; the glint of satire in his pointed look.

I had the grace to blush but Anne merely lifted her chin in a saucy manner. Lucian, who had turned around upon hearing his father's droll chastisement of us, seemed to tense up of a sudden. He was staring at me now in a way that was wholly uncomfortable to me. By my recollection, in every one of our prior engagements — if they could even be called such — he had never so much as noticed me; in the past, he had merely flicked a distasteful glance my way before removing his person from my insulting presence. Yet here he stood now as if he knew not what to make of me...that I should be the mystery and not he.

"Hang me! This is a happy change? Was it not you, Lucian, that said she was no more than an emaciated, little termigant, when last we saw her?" Caine curled his lips diabolically. "How wrong you were, brother-"

"Caine!" Godwin and Lucian both growled the warning in unison ere Godwin turned to me.

"This ill-bred rogue, I'm sure you remember, is my youngest, Caine. I had hoped his years away might have instilled a degree of circumspection," he scowled the the younger man, "if not propriety, but, as you see, this was not the case." He then cast an admonishing look at his eldest son. "Lucian, will you not greet your intended?"

"Aria." My betrothed inclined his head slightly but made no more effort than that small concession.

The way Lucian spoke my name — I could not recall that he had used my given name ere now — was like a baptism of equal parts fire and snow; although his greeting had been perfunctory and cold, there was yet an expression of warmth intimated by his tone and the way he had dragged out my name: a veritable revelation on his lips whereby he'd injected a thousand meanings into just a single utterance. However, I had not the carnal perspicacity to glimpse its depth. There was something boiling there beneath the surface of his gaze, yet was I too naive to answer it's call.

"Good evening, Lucian," I reciprocated quietly, heedless of whether or not he gave me leave to use his christian name.

I too inclined my head politely while watching his hands clench and unclench at his side. Caine looked between us with a moue of disgust when the silence stretched awkwardly; and verily, the awkwardness was all my own.

"I had despaired of having a muddied imp for a sister, but I see now this is not the case. I'm happy to be wrong." Caine bowed low, his manner rakish, which only seemed to irritate Lucian further.

"Do shut up," Lucian muttered. It was mildly stated, but the inscrutable countenance belied the heat broiling beneath his dark brows. Amber eyes that had impaled Caine now drifted back to me, as penetrating and unsettling as they'd ever been.

Godwin regarded his younger son with stern disapproval. "As riveting as I find your antics, Caine, I find my appetite the greater distraction at present." The mordant tone of his voice recalled us to our purpose here in the hall and we left the hearth in favor of the dais. "Shall we?"

He had placed my hand at the crook of his elbow and done the same with Anne's on his other side. I glanced over my shoulder to see Lucian still watching me closely.

Unfortunately, I was purposefully placed on the bench betwixt Caine and my broody fiancé — my back as rigid as a distaff.

I picked absently at the roast mutton on my trencher and eventually gave up on my helping of blankmanger — the meaty custard not tempting me this night.

Each time Lucian's arm brushed mine I flinched or started like a leveret. When he reached for the flagon of wine, his hand came too near my own and I moved it under the table. These small gestures, though imperceptible to most, did not fool Lucian into thinking I was aught but uneasy in his company; I felt his eyes on me even now.

When I recoiled for the third time, he suspired impatiently and turned to face me. "Does my proximity offend your constitution that much?"

Lord, but he had the foulest scowl of any man I knew. "It disconcerts me, yes."

Perhaps he had not expected such a direct response, for his frown was quickly replaced with mild interest. "You best overcome your aversion, madam. Elsewise you have a lifetime of disconcertion to look forward to."

How comforting that thought was. "I should like to overcome it," I admitted. "But you have made it no secret how much you disrelish my company."

He raised a supercilious eyebrow. "Since I am only just returned home, and the summation of our interaction merely a scant few words at best, I can only assume your presumptions to be based on the past."

"You may assume that," I replied warmly, the curtness of my voice reflecting his own.

"Your first impression of me was perhaps warranted, I grant you, but there were extenuating circumstances." His gaze was as keen as a hawk. "Of that you may be sure."

"Be that as it may, I was newly arrived and had as little choice as you in the matter," I said warily. And still have no say. "I did not deserve your contempt."

With the exception of that early morning long ago, when the castle had been plagued by a fell tempest, during which had passed a tentative and peculiar amity betwixt us, he had, on every other occasion, treated me coldly; and, therefore, utterly warranted my expostulations.

Still and all, how odd it was that I was so readily disclosing my impressions and opinions to him. I knew enough of his father, however, to know that a forthright approach worked best. In Lucian's case perhaps reticence might, in future, be the more prudent option.

"I do not refute that fact." He had uttered the statement rather testily, withal his voice was husky.

Is that an apology? By God, it was laughable.

"But you have not been ill-treated by my family, do I have that aright?"

"I have not been, no."

"And other than my brusqueness, have I myself maltreated you?"

"No." Whence were these questions leading, I wondered.

"That is settled then. There is no reason for you to balk each time I lift my hand to my tankard," he said matter-of-factly and then sought to ignore me as he resumed eating.

How neatly and compendiously he undertook to discredit my wariness of him as though I were being ridiculous. It rankled and I was on the verge of challenging him — justifying my dislike of him — but wisdom reigned, so I kept my peace in the face of his pithy logic. Although I had answered him frankly before, I little trusted him, even now, and was therefore thankful for the quiet brooding he evinced thereafter.

We were still veritable strangers, but at least the silence between us was not the awkward and stilted quietude of before. It was as though we had somehow cleared the air. I fretted far less after that, yet still averted my gaze each time I felt his eyes dwelling across my visage.

"Still avoiding me?" His disapproval was tangible.

"I would too, brother." Caine chortled behind the gravy-sodden chunk of bread he was stuffing into his face, hilarity straitening his mischievous eyes. "I daresay, your scowl practically excoriates the flesh."

Though he was interrupting our exchange, I was partly thankful at first. However, on further consideration, it did not sit well with me that he had been eavesdropping the entire time, thoroughly diverted by us and doubtless finding pleasure at our expense. I bristled in irritation. Boorish clod!

"Unless you want that intrusive nose in your trencher, Caine," Lucian drawled, "I'd find another place to seat your arse; posthaste."

Still chuckling, Caine inclined his head with a debonaire wink and sauntered away, thence to bedevil someone else for the nonce. Lucian, meanwhile, continued to watch me, ostensibly awaiting my reply as though his brother did not just disrupt the conversation.

"How so? I am no longer restive," I affirmed carefully. I focused completely on the white weave of the linen tablecloth, intentionally misinterpreting his meaning.

Lucian chuckled darkly, "Then look at me, Aria." It was more of a dare than a command.

I acquiesced, but just as quickly lowered my gaze. I bethought the act as that of looking directly into the sun: though his eyes were bright, and did not exactly pain me, the feeling was most uncomfortable.

"As I thought," he chuckled cynically. His tone was almost taunting, but with a sigh, he made to reassured me; I think. "Be easy, little rabbit. I have yet to bite anyone at my father's table." If that was an attempt at allaying my fears, then he failed rather miserably!

"Do I take that to mean you are to be trusted away from your father's table?" I asked, confronting his gaze and consequently espying his dreadfully long canines, visible now that he was smiling slyly.

"Perhaps that is a question for another time." His smirk was rather less than wholesome as he answered my timid jest as though I was in earnest, precipitating my gaze back to those protracted eyeteeth.

I resolved then to steer clear of those teeth at whatever cost.

He seemed to sense my disquiet for he elaborated, "I value honesty, Aria, however, take care what you ask me...lest you be distressed by the answer." I nodded, deciding not to ask him another question again! He would only confound me further.

I ignored him the rest of the meal, or tried to in any event. There was surely not even one in a hundred men as cryptic and confusing as he. At the conclusion of supper he finally stood but made no move to quit the table, so I lifted my face to him.

"I should warn you," said he derisively, his lips pulling down at the corners, "that if you continue to act the skittish rabbit, you may find yourself with more than the hounds at your heels."

"Pardon me?" A wolf does not lay with a rabbit... Those words, uttered so long ago, beset me suddenly, the rank presage souring my tongue despite that I spake not the thought aloud.

"There is nothing more exciting to a predator than the smell of fear and the thrill of the chase. It is thereby crucial you learn to mask your distress if you will not abandon it altogether." With that, he withdrew, features grim, to sit at Carac's side at the far end of the table.

Well, that was pleasant. I sighed with relief now that he had quit my sphere, albeit not a little perturbed that it was my continued wariness of him that had seemed to provoke him to seek another's company. Ironic indeed, for the more impolitic he was, the more chary I became; both of us doing the very thing that repelled the other.

Meanwhile, Caine had joined in a game of hot cockles: the aim of which was to be blindfolded and kneeling with one's hand behind one's back and the palm facing outward. The player had then to endure countless slaps from many a hand and eventually guess at who had dealt each blow. I watched as Caine guessed every person's slap correctly, as though he knew the tread of each individual foot or the heartbeat of every perpetrator that drew near. He was impossibly good.

By and by it was Lucian who stood, with devilry glinting markedly in his tawny perusal, and walked purposefully to his brother. He lifted a heavy boot and shoved it, hard, against Caine's backside. The younger brother thus went flying forward, like an arrow let loose from it's bow, and landed roughly in the rushes amidst hoots of laughter, his own included. I too was not immune to the hilarity of the game.

"That offending boot I know well!" Caine ripped his blindfold off and laughed smugly at discovering that he was right. "For it has been my old nemesis some years now. Is not that so, Lucian?"

Caine's comment elicited a sharp bark of laughter from his brother. I had never heard it before; it's deep cadence undulating along my skin in disturbing waves.

"Aye, brother, and it shall continue to be so hereafter."



❆



Three nights hence I was sitting in the west tower. I waited there often. I had come here now in an attempt to witness again that strange procession of shackled men being shoved by guards into the forest, but Anne kept me occupied most afternoons and I had not seen them since that first time. I had only just finished another awkward meal beside Lucian, but had retired early, while the sun was still just above the horizon, so that I might survey the countryside in the peace afforded by an empty room, as was now my habit.

I stood, suddenly alert. Instead of what I had hoped to see, I saw what I had not expected to. Godwin, Carac, Caine and Lucian had appeared on the road as I watched. All four seemed agitated and restless as they moved quickly between the dark foliage and then were gone. I raced downstairs, through the keep, and out into the courtyard where I raced to the western wall.

Thomas and I had not used the postern much since first discovering it concealed amongst the underbrush; the initial excitement of the discovery had soon waned into disregard as we turned our attentions to newer prospects.

But I moved there now, carefully looking about myself and acting as natural as possible so as not to attract suspicion and, moreover, to assure myself I was not espied by the guards or, worst of all, a worrying Anne. The tunnel was dank, narrow and constricted by fallen rock and tree roots, but I pushed on, feeling my way to the terminus that seemed perpetually outside of my reach.

I did finally reach the other side, removed the bar, and pulled at the door, which at first remained resolutely in place, but finally budged enough that I squeezed by, tearing a strip from my dinner gown. If Lucian could see me now — a veritable rabbit emerging from its warren.

"God's bones! It's black as dog's guts in here!" came the muttered grumble of a familiar voice from behind me.

I nearly expired on the spot, the voice catching me so off guard, as my poor heart threatened to palpitate right out of my chest. Thomas, that clay-brained lout, emerged from the gloom behind me dusting off his hose and doublet with little care for my shredded nerves.

"Thomas! What are you doing here!"

"What am I doing here? That's bloody rich! What, pray, are you doing here...at sunset no less! If Godwin catches wind of this-" I clamped my hand over his mouth, fearful of our being overheard, for the dolt had spoken as loud as if I were deaf!

"Keep your voice down, for heaven's sake! I'm following Lucian." At my admission, I saw the blood drain instantly from his face.

Thankfully it had inspired him to whisper henceforth. "Are you mad!" He took my arm and began to pull me back into the tunnel. "Come. We're leaving."

I ripped my arm back and covered his mouth again. My abrupt action must have hit home, namely because he froze to listen like a spooked field mouse, but he caught my meaning and held his tongue. I listened carefully, the hairs prickling eerily on the back of spine.

"Do you hear that?" My voice was barely audible, but he nodded his ascent and I removed my hand.

We became aware of the muffled sound of laughter interspersed with cries of despair. I inched slowly toward the source of the confusing noise, Thomas now following obediently in my wake. Eventually we came upon a group of eight men. As before, the prisoners were fettered and struggling at their chains while four burly wardens drove them forward as if they were naught but stolid cattle. My mind was reeling. I could not now turn back, though Thomas was nudging at me pleadingly to do so as if to steer me back to the postern. No, my prying mind would not let this rest. Where they were headed, so too would I go.

Thus I carefully picked my way over the forest terrain, diligent and mindful of creating no sound. Would that Thomas was as vigilant. At one point my friend stumbled and fell into the dry leaves, the crackling sibilance of dead foliage breaking his fall seemed to breach the hush of twilight with an agonizing stridency that alerted one of the guards at the rear who then turned to peer into the gloom whence the noise had emanated; right into our direction.

It was, fortunately, almost dark now and certainly the light was too poor to make out our shadowy figures, so he shrugged and continued on.

At last, they ceased their marching and one of the guards called for the lanterns to be lit, since the dark of night had set in completely now. There, by the faint glow of the guards' lights, I discerned a massive wall of sturdy stone and mortar. My eyes scaled the height of the wall that seemed as infinite and impossibly tall as the curtain walls of Nørrdragor. It might have been a sheer thirty feet in length, yet still effectively dwarfed by the firs surrounding it or I'd have seen it from my tower. Still and all, none of this I conceived till later for I merely stood there gawking at the indiscernible summit where it disappeared into the inky obscurity of the conifers above.

I then chanced to look at Thomas, but could barely make out his features except for the whites of his eyes that were as large as trenchers.

My attention was pulled back to the men as they stood before a latticed gate. It was a strange-looking portcullis — but no less as stalwart as Nørrdragor's own — and was made completely of iron. The vertical bars were thick and powerfully made. The portcullis, I noted, sat mounted in its vertical grooves within the gate-house wall much the same as any of its kind would be, but that this one's winch was positioned externally, and well out of reach of the entrance, was what set it apart from the average portcullises that I was familiar with. There was well and truly no way out for whomever they might lock within.

I watched as two of the guards began to operate the winch, straining visibly as one alternately pulled while the other pushed. With a great, metallic groan, the latticed grille began to rise — the bottom of the vertical bars tapering into thick spikes; the impression struck me as that of a monstrous maw, blackened teeth bared viciously, opening with menacing and slow deliberation.

Once it was raised high, the prisoners were unshackled and shoved inside. It was a forbidding sight indeed watching that heavy iron gate as it finally slammed down with a resounding and ominous clamor, it's teeth once again impaling the lime rock at its base, and trapping the shouting men within.

The sentries began to move off again, staunch and indifferent to the screaming at their backs. We hurried after them, keeping to the well-worn path they were using, but staying always just outside of the circle of light. When we reached the main road that lead back to Nørrdragor, the group of armored jailers turned east and we towards the rabbit hole from whence we had came.

"Why do you think they left those men there, Aria? Is it some sort of prison do you think?"

I shook my head and then realized he couldn't see the gesture. "I wish I knew, Thomas."

Once ensconced within the safety of the castle walls again, we split up and I snuck back to my chamber. Later, when I had calmed Astrid — who had been most shocked at the state of my tattered raiments — and sworn her to secrecy, I took my bath. Afterwards, I stood at my window and pondered the night's strange development.

The moon was now visible above the tree line. October's Blood Moon hung full and bright in the frigid sky, but for some reason I could not appreciate her beauty. That same tumescence I had gazed upon many a time before, seemed this night only to hint at an ill-boding omen.

I watched the road a little longer, but finally gave up waiting for Lucian and the others to reappear. Perhaps they had come out another way? More likely thought, was the possibility that I had missed their return when I had taken my bath.

One thing I did know for certain. I would go back to that accursed place tomorrow, cost what it may.





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