by Vela Roth
“Take care. I must go and deliver the Prisma’s message. You have my gratitude. Please tell the Prisma that for me as well. Those exact words.”
The mage nodded and signed a glyph of Kyria over Cassia with a shaking hand. “Goddess preserve us all.”
Lio would surely be saying the same prayer before the night was through.
Siege
It was shockingly easy to approach Solorum Fortress in daylight. Cassia spotted only a handful of men strolling the walls and standing about in the shadows of the towers. It seemed the earnest watch did not begin till nightfall, when an army of guards would patrol the walls with keen eyes and sweating brows. Even then, they sought to keep the monsters in, rather than keep humans out. No one expected a mortal to want inside with the Hesperines.
It had been simple to make her way around the entire Solorum complex under the cover of the forest, a reversal of Lio’s nightly route to her. This approach from the north was well-shielded. The woods hid Cassia from the guards’ sight, and a tall tree gave her a decent view of what she was up against. The only challenge now was the line of cleared ground between the trees and the walls. She could not afford to wait for the cover of darkness.
For the second time in her life, Cassia gazed out across a vast, open field at the walls of a fortress and knew she was the only one who would go.
She clambered back down the tree and slid to the ground, landing a little too hard. Knight wove about her jarred legs, sniffing her as if to check for injuries.
She knelt down in front of him and held him. “I have to be stealthy, my dearest. You have to stay here.”
It took her four trips to the edge of the woods before Knight did not follow her. His sense of danger was so strong. But his obedience still remained stronger, and it was no lie she needed him to watch her back. If she ran into trouble on the way and had to make a hasty retreat, she wanted an ally to retreat to. Even if all he could offer her was the reassurance she was not alone.
The truth was, if they found her out, retreat was unlikely. Even if she did escape, what then?
Escape. The mere thought filled her with longing she could scarcely bear, and more anger than she could hold. There would be no escape for her.
From the cover of the trees, she studied the walls that separated her from Lio. Only narrow slits for archers interrupted the otherwise unbroken expanse. The sun that struck those openings was swallowed by blackness within. She eyed the towers. Windowless. This was not a fortress ready for a siege, which it had not seen in ages, but it was built for one.
Moments slipped by as she observed the pattern of the guards’ patrol on the ramparts. She tallied their steps. The time it took them to make their rounds changed subtly with each circuit, for they were not being diligent. But that was all right. It meant they were moving slower than they should. In the time they were not on this side of the wall, she could make it from the trees to the fortress.
But there remained the problem of the locked gate. The portcullis she couldn’t see from here, which faced the greensward to the south, was the more formidable of the fortress’s two entrances. The north gate on this side was set deep into the wall and barely large enough to admit a single horse and rider. If would-be invaders managed to enter the recess, the fortress’s defenders might pour any manner of painful things down onto the enemies’ heads before they reached the door. Assuming they got near at all.
The gate stood elevated above ground level at the top of a narrow flight of steps. During a siege, the path between Cassia and the stairs would be covered in sharp pickets or other such menaces. But those sorts of stakes were of no use at all against Hesperines.
Cassia waited. The instant the patrol rounded the corner of the walls and traipsed out of sight, she took off running.
For a few dreadful moments she raced across open ground with the sun beating down on her. Every instinct in her keened with wariness. She kept her gaze fixed on those empty walls until she came too near the side of the fortress to see what lay above her anymore.
She dashed up the stairs, into the recess, and stopped just in time to avoid hurtling right under a large grate open to a chamber above. She held her breath and listened.
There came the muted but unmistakable tread of boots on stone somewhere far over her head. The guards had already rounded the corner. Cassia waited, frozen.
No shouts. Not even a curious voice drifting down from the ramparts. She let out a silent, shaking breath. So close. But they had not seen her.
She waited awhile longer, listening for any movement on the other side of the grate in the roof of the recess. She heard nothing. Whatever chamber lay above seemed to be deserted at the moment.
Now she faced the obstacle of a locked and barred door designed to withstand sieges. She had never felt so reckless and unprepared. She had thrown herself headlong into this desperate attempt, and now she must discover the hard way whether she was as useful in such a crisis as she was at gradual maneuvers.
She ran her hands over the door’s surface, digging her nails into the barest seams between its planks and at the edges of the iron reinforcements that crisscrossed them. No handle. No keyhole. There weren’t even any hinges visible for her to douse in the fetid oil she’d brought. She paused, flattening her hands on the door, and leaned her face near. The hairs on her cheek did not rise, and she felt no telltale tingle on her palms. No spells, at least not that she could detect with her senses, such as they were. She eased back and studied the door frame for any weakness, looking it over, down and up.
Up to the grate that served as an outlet for boiling oil, arrows, sewage, or any other unsavory substance that might impede an invader. But in this case, the grate was by no means an impediment.
A soldier could never fit between those bars, but an underfed girl could.
Cassia’s momentary relief gave way to trepidation. It was far above her head, and even for an underfed girl, it would not be a comfortable passage.
She did not even have Knight to give her a leg up. She would have to find what handholds she could on the door itself and scramble up the wall, then catch the bars with her fingers and pull herself up.
Cassia waged her wars in the hearth room, the weaving room and the garden. She was hardly equipped for such a physical feat. But she hoped these past two fortnights of hard work at the temple might grant her just enough strength that her body didn’t fail her.
The first thing she did was tie her hair out of her way and strip until she wore nothing but her slippers. Cold assailed her skin, but she faced her foe without a tremble. Standing naked in broad daylight before the door of Solorum fortress, she took a bottle of scent and a rag in hand and began to oil herself.
The rag kept her hands clean, while it took three different oils to get her breasts, ribcage and hips properly greased. She didn’t stop until she was slippery as a fish from wrists to ankles. At last she bundled the empty bottles in her satchel with her clothing and tools and slung her bag onto her back.
She was ready. She lifted her knee and braced her foot on the door. For once, her stupid slippers were an asset. Too cold in winter, sweaty in summer, always letting dampness from the ground soak through to her feet. But now they were more flexible than any protective shoes might have been, and yet they offered her toes a modicum of protection from the rough iron of the door. She squeezed her toes into the slim hold where the flat iron bar met the wood and reached up to find a handhold on the stone door frame, which protruded from the sheer wall with a lip about the width of her thumb.
It took three tries and many awkward rearrangements before she managed to crawl up the face of the door, then turn its frame into a foothold while her hands found purchase in a few moss-eaten, crumbly grooves in the wall above. By the time she brought herself within manageable reach of the grate, she felt emboldened.
But her victory so far would mean little if she could not make it the rest of the way.
She double checked her toeholds and left handhold
, then carefully pried her right hand from the wall and lifted it. Slowly she reached up, cautious not to upset her balance. Closer. There. She wrapped her right hand firmly around one bar of the grate.
A breath to steady herself. She tugged, testing the grate’s strength. When it held, she yanked harder. It didn’t so much as rattle. Old and nasty as this place was, it was built to last. The bars should hold her weight.
Her steady grip on the grate made her motions surer as she lifted her left hand and took hold of another bar. Braced between the grate and the lintel of the door, she let her arms and legs rest for a moment. But only for a moment. No time to waste.
Holding fast to the grate, she walked her feet up the wall. A reasonably comfortable approach, but when she had her body parallel to the grate, hanging by her hands with her feet flat against the adjoining wall, she realized the logistical problems of sending her feet between the bars first. To Hypnos with it. She would have to go headfirst and pull her entire body weight up.
But first, to make sure her tools made it through with her. With one hand, she worked her bundle carefully off her back, squeezed it through the bars, and gave it a shove so it landed beside the grate.
For her own entry, she chose the gap between the two bars nearest the door, for that would allow her to brace herself on the wall for as long as possible. The one small mercy of the situation was that the bars were parallel to the doorway, and she would not have to twist to fit herself in sideways.
But by the time she got herself into position, her limbs and belly were trembling, and her throat was tight and prickly with unshed tears of frustration. Hair hung in her eyes, and she tried without success to blow it out of her way. Sweat trickled down her back. Her palms would be next, and then where would she be? She felt awkward, foolish, and helpless, nude and clinging to the side of a fortress large enough to crush her.
No, she was not going to fail, not at such a ridiculous task. She would not lose her chance to warn Lio because she fell from a godsforsaken murder hole.
Cassia had to turn her head entirely sideways, but it did fit through the gap. Once she was able to face forward again and get her shoulders through, she felt a little encouraged, but that was also when her arms began to burn in earnest. She slid one up through the grate, then the other. Now she was braced on top of the bars, the iron digging into her arms painfully, her toes still grappling for purchase on the wall. She gritted her teeth, let her legs swing free, and heaved.
In the end there was little analysis and cleverness to it, just a lot of wrenching, bruising, and sucking her breath in so hard her stomach hurt. Her breasts, small as they were, were squeezed painfully on the way through and she thought her hips would be her undoing. With bruises on her pelvic bones, knees, shins and other places she could not think to tally, she collapsed on top of the grate, all her limbs now within the fortress.
She’d done it.
She gulped in breaths. Daylight coming through the grate showed her a long chamber that was empty except for the abandoned refuse of siege equipment. There was no door, just an open archway leading into a hallway. Cringing, Cassia crawled off of the grate, onto solid stone floor and into a shadowed corner behind an empty cauldron.
She used her gown to wipe as much oil off herself as she could. It wouldn’t do for the guards to smell her coming. She donned only her tunica and satchel, discarding the rest in the cauldron.
Then she scrambled into a crouch and peeked around the doorway. The corridor appeared deserted. It was a low, narrow passage devoid even of weapon racks and martial banners, lit only by a single torch.
She darted out and snatched the brand off the wall. It took scarcely a moment to carry it back to the cauldron and set afire the only evidence she had been here. Fragrance gave way to smoke as she watched her brown dress, kerchief and underlinens burn to ash.
Solorum Fortress had fallen to an army of one.
Through the Veil
It had never occurred to Cassia she would be so good at committing treason. Her body, which she so often berated for showing fear and weakness, had been her strength today as she had climbed through that murder hole. Now the skills she had learned because of the king were precisely what she needed to see his plan brought to nothing.
She had no magic powers that let her walk past guards unseen in plain sight, but she did have a lifetime of experience to rely on. If there was anything she excelled at, it was subtlety. She crept around corners, crawled behind furniture, and sheltered in empty rooms. As guards passed by, she bided her time before following silently in their wake. Heady, how easy it was; nerve-wrenching, when she considered the stakes.
The guards were worse gossips than the women in the kitchens, and she quickly learned by eavesdropping that the embassy had quarters on the ground level. As she made her way downward, the growing absence of guards confirmed what they had said. They clearly avoided this part of the fortress.
By the time she reached the door to the ground level barracks, she was utterly alone. The only people here with her were asleep in the rooms beyond.
Her heart pounded even harder than it had each time she’d risked discovery above. She pressed an ear to the door. When she had passed the last window on the floor above, she had seen it was not yet dusk. She had a little time. She must hide herself in Lio’s room and stay there until he woke.
And hope the others who woke first did not sense her. It was a good thing she knew he had a room to himself. It was a very, very good thing the Hesperines were kind. To find herself their captive would be a relief, if she did not know they would be the ones who came to harm, if they were found to harbor her.
Cassia lifted her head from the door and took hold of the handle. This one wasn’t locked.
The door swept open with a groan. Again she had to remind herself how much stone lay between her and the guards and that it took far more than creaky hinges to wake a Hesperine. She closed the door firmly behind her. The meager light that came from the corridor winked out.
She felt she could reach out and touch the darkness around her. She recognized that darkness, knew it as she knew her own past. It was the same power that had wrapped her up in safety the night the Hesperines had saved her life.
She breathed in the darkness and shivered. It was a hint of music she could almost hear. An embrace that told her all would yet be well.
Was this the ward Lio had spoken of, which protected them in their sleep? Would it let her pass?
Cassia took one step forward. The hair on the back of her arms stirred as if a gentle wind soughed around her. She took another step. The magic enfolded her and held her close against its silken breast.
A sense of direction made her walk forward and to her right. Her mind knew it made no sense, but it felt so natural, she did not stop to question. The part of her that simply walked that way knew exactly what she was doing.
Her hand came to rest on a door handle. The shadows promised untold mysteries slept within. She pushed open the door, and the familiar, intimate caress of Lio’s magic drew her in.
Soft spell light illumined a small, ascetic room for soldiers. The single occupant of the bed looked much too beautiful to even exist here. Lio slept on his back in a graceful sprawl with his feet hanging off the end of the bunk. All that covered him from waist to ankle was one blanket. One she knew well. Did it still have bloodstains from the night they’d lost their virginity on it? She let her gaze drift up his long torso to his bare chest. Around his neck, on a length of twine, hung the betony charm she had given him.
Here in this room, the magic that had led her to his side seemed stronger than her pain. She felt certain no one could intrude over this threshold. She felt safe and hidden, as she always did with him.
Cassia went to him and slid her bruised body into his bed. There was just enough room for her to tuck herself against his side under their blanket. She took a deep breath. Roses and Lio. His body was so warm next to hers.
Let him wake to her just thi
s once.
An Impossible Dream
The finest dream he had that day was his last one, right before waking. He dreamed he did, in fact, awaken. In that awful little room in Solorum fortress. But Cassia was there in the bed with him, waiting for them to greet the night together.
Lio stretched. She melted closer to him, twining her leg around his, her arm around his waist. He luxuriated in the feeling of his own body and hers against him. His appetite uncurled with the same languid pleasure, and he felt his fangs swell.
All he had to do was roll over, and they could begin the night with the Feast. This was how it should be.
“Lio.”
The first thing he heard as he awakened: her saying his name. So right. He rolled over. So easy. Now he was face-to-face with her, belly to belly. He swallowed the moisture that had come to his mouth. “You have soot on your nose.”
She reached up to rub at it, then at her eyes.
He blinked at her. He should ask her why she had soot on her charming little nose. But the only question he could think was, where would he drink? The inside of her thigh would be so good. But her neck was much closer. He kissed her while he was trying to decide.
She hung onto him and opened her mouth to him. She was eager. She’d been waiting for him to wake up.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he mumbled as he found his way to her throat.
“How long does it take for you to wake up? I mean, be really awake?”
“Mmm wide awake.”
That was the inside of her thigh against his rhabdos. She could feel how awake he was. And there was her throat against his lips. His tongue found her pulse unerringly.
“Lio, you’re not thinking straight.”
“Thinking’s not really mmm…mmportant.” But when he took his first breath of the evening to smell her, fragrance assailed his nose, and a thought did occur to him. “Did you grease another door?”