"Calm down! Tis only I," Lucian whispered brusquely, his brutal hand still pressed firmly across my mouth.

"What the devil is she doing here?" I heard Caine's exasperated murmur coming from behind his brother, but his face was not yet visible to me, namely because Lucian filled my vision completely — a vision that was colored in carnage.

I whimpered in revulsion and ripped my palms away from his viscid chest as soon as I became aware that his torso was utterly bestrewn with blood; the coppery tang of it assailing each of my senses. Caine quietly stepped out from around Lucian, shaking his head in displeasure as if I should be ashamed and not he: the assassin bespattered with gore. Caine's eerie blue eyes shot daggers at me all the while I tried to shake his brother's hand from my mouth.

"Go make sure the others have not caught up! And delay Fendrel if they have!" Lucian growled with a terse nod to Caine. The younger man rolled his eyes in aggravation before he left to do his brother's bidding. "Why are you not abed?" Lucian seethed as he released my mouth.

I stepped back and nearly tripped as my enervated legs gave out, but strong fingers gripped me steadily — fortunately not on my wounded forearm — and I was saved from tumbling back onto my battered head. There was an engorged and angry bruise already well established there; a visible and throbbing reminder of the previous evening's awful episode.

"You look hellish. What ails you?" said he, the dried blood cracking across the deep furrows of his brow.

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it! What ails me?! He was the one covered in congealed blood! If ever there was a person who could be deemed hellish-looking...it was he, not I.

"Naught is the matter with me, Lucian!" I held up my bloody palms for him to inspect. "But why are you bleeding?"

He had never looked more diabolical ere this night. Never had he scared me as he was doing now. His hair was wild and clotted with the dark crimson of viscous gore, and was smeared all across his mouth; he wore it as he would a grim, red beard. It looked almost as though he'd been submerged in the tacky essence — from his throat all the way up to the bottom of his ears; there was only a few red blemishes on his peak by comparison.

He was dressed tonight in a pair of brown, woolen hose, a white undershirt and a leather jerkin, which was surprisingly untainted; for the most part. And how was that even possible? I could see blood beneath his shirt, where it was visible at his neckline. Had he bathed in the stuff before donning his raiments? No, he must surely be terribly wounded!

"I s-shall g-go fetch Anne!" I stammered, panicked.

"What the devil for?" He growled, those tawny eyes confronting mine as intractable fingers dug painfully into my flesh.

"You are hurt-" I backed away an inch but no further; my upper arms still seized in his grasp.

"Stay where you are! I have no need of my mother's ministrations just now." His eyes shifted to his hands.

He then released me suddenly, as if only now becoming aware that he was bruising my shoulders. Had I not been standing there shivering from cold, I might have thought my very skin capable of scalding his fingers; so swiftly had he yanked his hand back. He certainly did not move as though he were injured.

"But you're still bleeding, Lucian-"

"Tis not my blood!"

I gasped, appalled, but he merely smirked horribly, like some queer, midnight butcher. Those otherworldly eyes sparked with unhallowed fire as he studied my reaction. I was wont to question him further, but was afeared of what he'd tell me. I knew he would not lie. He might invariably omit what he chose...or disclose the whole of the sanguinary facts, but he would tell me true; and therein lay the problem. At long last, my troublesome curiosity lay quiet and subdued, it had been well and truly scared witless. I needed no more truths!

"Come along." He nudged me back whence I came. "You've no business loitering in the corridor at this ungodly hour."

And you?! I almost asked.

Then he turned suddenly, to look over his shoulder, and waited. I blinked warily, eyes as large as a barn owl's and trained towards the exact same spot he stared at, but sighed in relief when Caine appeared again, his loping gait almost wolf-like. How had Lucian heard his brother? The man had produced not a single sound!

"The others are nigh enough, brother. Best you get her to bed..." He then cocked his head and chuckled quietly as if he'd made a jest, one that lay beyond my ken. Howbeit, Lucian had obviously grasped it for he smiled sardonically — an indecent joke at my expense no doubt.

"Nay, you shall deliver her thence, brother." The command did not seem to please Caine, for he made no move toward me which only rankled Lucian. "Quick man!" Caine finally shot into action and I was thereby hauled off in his disgruntled wake as Lucian moved off in the opposite direction.

When Caine's steely thumb inadvertently grazed my bandaged flesh, I cried out. At hearing my sharp yelp he whirled around and dropped his hold instantly, staring at me as though I were as mad as a sack of adders.

"God's blood, woman! Would you wake the entire castle!" I cradled my sore arm and he watched me suspiciously. "What is the matter?"

"Caine!" Lucian came thundering over. I was now, fortunately, no longer the recipient of his devastating glare, for the time being at least. It had been transferred to Caine instead, who threw his arms heavenward in defensive vexation.

"I've done naught but touch her arm!" Caine hissed peevishly.

Lucian's eyes darted skeptically to the limb in question. I watched his nostrils flare before his jaws clenched and he raised his narrowed gaze to mine — trying to glean what he could with just that contact. I hoped fervently that he possessed not the ability to decipher my thoughts. There was so much I wished him not to know!

As if I had summoned her with my earlier thoughts, Anne materialized without warning and I nearly collapsed with the relief; which did not go unnoticed by the tawny pair of eyes that still watched me.

"Aria, love! You should not be awake!" I ran to her waiting arms, but she caught my hands, ere I soiled her chemise, and surveyed my wet palms aghast.

"I heard noises out in the hallway." I did not admit that it was an animalistic noise I'd heard. I was learning quickly that to keep one's own council was of utmost importance here; within the secret corners of Nørrdragor castle.

Anne glared at her son, taking in his bloody dishabille, and then softened her features when she turned back to me again. I thought she might beset him with her maternal concern, but she surprised me with her silence and remained where she stood, unwilling to touch him though he looked affright. Strange. She seemed to have discerned, correctly then, that it was not his lifeblood staining his shirt.

"Take her to her own chamber mother. I do not want her down here," he compressed his lips at me afore commencing the rest of his thought, "for the time being..."

Did he mean till the wedding night? I groaned. Would I be moved down here or...would he simply endure all his conjugal visits in the sanctity of my personal chamber, in the opposite wing, ere he retired to his own chamber — once he'd finished with me? I suppose I would find that out on the morrow; it was already the wee hours of the morning before the wedding.

"Aria?" he said ominously. Anne and I both turned to look at Lucian. "We shall talk again later, you and I." I shivered.

"There's nothing-" Anne began afore her words were cut in twain.

"Good night, Mother." Lucian turned on his heel, dismissing us directly. Anne and I looked at each other. She with worry and I with confusion.

"What are you all hiding!" I whispered in frustration. "Do not prevaricate, Anne, I beg of you!" Anne pulled me away wearily, demurring as per usual when this particular discussion arose.

"All will be revealed in good time, Aria, but it is not my place to do so. Believe me, the taste of ignorance is a sweet elixir to an unsullied mind; as yours certainly is."

"On second thought," I sighed, "perhaps I no longer wish to know." And I truly didn't.

It was all too much, though I knew next to nothing. My reality was clouded in a thick, convoluted fog. Each day my mind grew further twisted and my sanity edged ever closer to the precipice of oblivion! Would that I had never come here and would that I had never followed my curiosity into the Redweld forest!

But I am not so ignorant now, Anne, nor my mind as unsullied as it once was. More's the pity.

Edwyn, for all that he was a hard taskmaster and a disastrous parent, had been at least reliably simple minded; reassuringly stupid. There was a wonderful sort of satisfaction in monotonous predictability. I hardly recalled now what that was like: when life observed congruity.

My head yet throbbed with turmoil from all the raw emotions that were coming to the fore, the discomfiture of my cracked skull notwithstanding. Everyone, even Anne, was keeping secrets, there was an evil in the forest — a foul demonic creature — that was literally unspeakable, and I was now on the verge of marrying a man that still frightened me senseless despite the three kisses we had shared heretofore. How much more could I bear? Anne watched, with sad resignation, as the despair flittered across my face.

"Lets get you to bed, my dear." That said, we repaired thence at once, just as the cockerel began to rouse the rest of the inmates, those that had actually been abed, with his obnoxious crowing.

❆

"Wakey, wakey!"

I wanted to fling my pillow at the happy intruder! How dare she enter here with her sing-song frippery! There was naught to be excited about today...

Except my marriage, of course, I lamented inwardly.

Astrid drew aside the curtains from around my 'sick bed'. I had ensconced myself here since dawn the day previous — had not awoken but once or twice to use the garderobe since the rooster chimed the hour yesterday morn. Anne had allowed this and in fact affirmed, to whomever would ask, that I was indeed ill abed. Be that as it may, my wedding day had finally arrived, and therefore I could delay the inevitable no longer.

"Your lady mother will be in shortly," Astrid winked sweetly at me. It was true, Anne would, after today, be my mother in truth. "She bade me stir you from bed and get you bathed, for she comes anon with a grand surprise." The girl practically twittered with excitement. "Oh, just wait and see, Miss!"

Once I was in the warm tub and lathering my arm with deliberate care, Astrid entered again with some bread and cheese to have with my tea. She helped me wash my ebony locks, for the lengthy mass had become far too irksome; the condition of my arm making difficult work of a once simple task. I had not allowed Astrid to see beneath the bandage. When she had asked, I had shrugged it off as merely a scratch.

"Is not this a wonderful day!" said she with a happy sigh.

I was about ready to dunk the girl's head in the tub, but restrained my vulgar urges. Instead, I decided to send her away, lest my baser instincts take over.

"Leave me, Astrid. I can manage just fine now on my own."

Her face fell, but I gave nary a thought to it as she bobbed her head and took her leave. I craved my solitude more than I cared whether or not I'd bent her feelings out of joint. Perhaps I shall become just like Lucian, I laughed mirthlessly.

Eventually, Anne made her entrance and with her brought a bevy of maids and other ladies, Rose included, to see to my toilette. I was seated by the fire, combing my hair out, when the horde arrived.

"Good morning, daughter!" Her cheerful disposition did not displease me as much as Astrid's had a moment ago, but neither did it uplift me. I answered her back with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, which must have been a poor effort indeed for she pursed her lips in annoyance. She then pulled me into the empty hallway, Rose frowning behind us as we left, and folded her arms in a pique of irritation.

"Come now," she snapped. "A smile if you please! I'll not have you moping about sullenly as if Im dragging you off to the executioner instead of your own wedding."

Are they not one and the same? Am I not marrying the headsman? Would that I could speak the words aloud, but I had not the energy to quarrel with her. Moreover, it was Thomas, the thespian, that bore a love for drama and not I. If I were not so upset just now, I might laugh at my own ridiculous notions. She sighed and kissed my forehead.

"My son is undoubtedly a...complicated man-"

Ho! What a mild statement! She might as well have likened a bear to a kitten.

"But he is not unkind and nor is he cruel."

Well, this is high praise indeed, I sniffed. I think Anne might have slapped me soundly if she had been privy to my inner monologue the whole way through her little speech.

"Will you not please try to love him? He may, in turn, come to love you too. I cannot stress enough how much happier your life will be, Aria, if you but make him cherish you, as I know you can!"

Her words instantly enkindled my frown as I thought about Carac; he had said something similar not long ago, implying that I should curry Lucian's favor. No, what were his exact words?

"A wise woman might cultivate the interest her lord shows her, but a foolish one would only stoke his ire. Which one are you?" Carac, I believe, had been trying to convey much the same message to me as Anne was now attempting to do.

"Very well," I relented, feeling drained.

I fabricated a convincing enough smile and she was somewhat mollified. I would try my best to at least assume the guise of a giddy bride, as best as I was able. It would not do in any event to let my audience, least of all my bridegroom, see the extent of my dismay and the abysmal state of affairs my emotions had become.

"Let us join the others and be merry! The hour grows late and we have much to do ere you're ready to go to your husband."

❅

It was time.

I breathed in deeply; my nerves were shattered, spread haphazardly all over the stone floor and yet nobody noticed — or yet pretended ignorance if they did. Anne beamed beatifically, as though she were the bride and not I, while she fluffed my billowing train with fervor. She had truly outdone herself, for the gown was stunning. All those months of sewing secretly in her apartments had finally paid off and the result was...simply breathtaking; even I, miserable though I was, could admit that much.

My wedding gown was a richly decorated blue brocade, the color of purity, threaded with fine silver and embroidered with pearls. The extensive angel-sleeves were beautifully moulded to my long arms and then fell in gorgeous rills from my wrists in a deep, silky waterfall. The gown was laced up along my spine with more silvery thread and a loose, bejeweled belt sat seductively over my hips. The overlong hem trailed fashionably behind me as I took my first steps in the heavy gown.

My fitted, silk kirtle — that lay over my woolen chemise and under the lovely blue gown — was an ivory opalescent and contrasted elegantly with my gown's deep neckline; it dipped low and ended just above my pale breasts. It was, in fact, a little too low and I should have said so if I was able to speak past the swelling lump crushing my throat.

With the addition of triangular gores, the hem of the kirtle was widened without adding bulk to my narrow waist. In fact, it only enhanced the fullness of the skirts with dramatic effect. Over my gown was draped the mantle of powdery blue damask, vair-lined and edged with identical fur so that the grey and white of the squirrel's coat blended beautifully with the sumptuous colors of the rest of my grand ensemble. Throughout the cloudy blues of the cloak were scattered hundreds of embroidered silver wolves, the pattern brilliant and detailed, standing on hind legs and ready to do battle... as I am.

The wolves stood exactly as they appeared on the family crest — my family crest now. There was even a silver wolf brooch securing the mantle at my throat. This impressive array was draped over my creamy, woolen hose and a pair of dark blue velvet slippers that were threaded with yet more silver and pearls — a wasted effort, I thought, as none would glimpse them through the splendor of my copious silken layers.

"Oh, Aria..." Anne's soft brown eyes were brimming with adoration as she and her ladies stood admiring their handiwork. Even Rose looked properly awed, her lineaments softening from their usual trenchant arrangement.

Although Rose always seemed partial to wearing sever coiffures herself, she had done an exquisite job with my heavy mass of hair — simple though it was. She had curled the locks in the classic display of bridal virtue. It hung loose down my back and she had placed a silver circlet, that was intricately woven with jewels, over the crown of my dark head and told me, without emotion, that it was "a gift from Fendrel". Finally, she had weaved little blue flowers delicately amongst my jetty locks.

"Come, ladies! Let us give the bride a few moments to herself!" Anne ushered the women from my chamber before she too withdrew, with an impatient glance over her shoulder; for only one woman had dared to remain despite her summons.

"I have something for you," Rose whispered. "I hid it in your clothing chest earlier." At her words, I cocked my head in confusion.

She moved silently towards the wooden chest at the foot of my bed and, lifting the heavy lid out of the way, rummaged through the contents vigorously. By and by she found what it was that she'd concealed there and moved back over to where I still stood suspiciously watching, but curious withal.

From her fingers there dangled a long, silver necklace with, what seemed to be, an odd-looking, tarnished key hanging from a link attached to its bow. She placed the delicate chain reverently over my head and released it so that it came to rest between my breasts.

For a fraction of a moment, I thought I perceived an imperceptible susurration, an unearthly utterance that echoed in my mind. "Did you hear that?" All too soon, however, it disappeared and I, as a consequence, bethought myself overwrought with mental strain.

"Hear what?" She merely smiled, knowingly.

"Never mind." I had, no doubt, imagined the sound and so continued studying Rose's strange endowment.

It was beautiful, in a stark and primitive way, despite being the strangest key I had ever beheld, and obviously molded by a master craftsman's disciplined hand; an unmistakably relic of bygone years. The round bow of the ancient key had been fashioned into a sun, within which two ravens were carved facing one another with faded symbols enveloping the scene.

The design itself was reminiscent of the old runes emblazoned above the grand fireplace below. Shifting my eyes to the blade, I perceived that it too was very peculiarly fashioned, but into a wholly different creature. A streamlined wolf's head sat at the end, its fangs presumably the 'unlocking' mechanism. Although, what it might open I knew not — its purpose seemed merely a decorative one. Then, turning the key over, I noted that both sides were identically forged, a ruby glistening from each wolf's baleful eye.

"I had a dream about you, Aria," Rose murmured quietly. "I believe you may find it more useful than I. My mother gave that to me when I was your age." She indicted the key with a flick of her gaze. "And said it had ever been a useless piece of jewelry, but that she had promised her mother-in-law to pass it down to a daughter of this house." Godwin's mother had been an imperious old dame, or so Anne had told me, but other than that I did not know much about her.

"Ulfrlykill belongs here, at Nørrdragor."

"Ulfrlykill? The Key?" I clarified, to which Rose nodded only once.

"What does it open?"

"Wear it always!" she interposed. "Tis a talisman, my dear." She narrowed her gaze. "But it is for no one to know that you have it in your possession; if you take my meaning?"

I nodded warily.

"It has always belonged to you," Her eyes became of a sudden faraway and unfocused, "and is home at last...where it ought to be."

What on earth could she mean? There were thousands of keyholes in the castle, so which door did it unlock? What dream had she had and wherefore had I featured in it?

"Whomsoever hold that key, holds the key to Nørrdragor," she whispered. Then, as if the magick of the moment evaporated with approaching footprints, she blinked to clear the clouds from her eyes. "I thought you might like a trinket," she said in a bored voice, reaching over to tuck the pendant into my gown, out of view.

I parted my lips to question her further, but Anne appeared once again, disrupting the peculiar spell that had settled over the two of us.

"It's time, Aria!" Anne stated cheerily, although I did not miss the quizzical brow she raised at her sister-in-law as Rose vacated the chamber.

Once I was sprinkled with lavender essence, and the tears — of Anne's joy and my dread — dried up, I was ready to face my waiting groom.

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