The View From Castle Always

by Melissa McShane

  “I can’t remember.” He tugged on her hand. “Ailanthe. Look at me.”

  She looked up and saw him smiling at her. “You’re still you,” he said. “You haven’t turned into anything inhuman, and when I look into your eyes, I still see Ailanthe behind them.”

  She shook her head. “I just—what I did, you looked so shocked and afraid—”

  “I was awestruck that you have such power and wondered if you’d even still care for me, since I’m just an ordinary man.”

  Ailanthe laughed and flung her arms around his neck. “You did not.”

  “I did, a little. But mostly I was happy to be alive.” He bent his head and kissed her. “Though I suppose you could have Tristram if you think I’m inadequate, so at least you wouldn’t have to sleep alone.”

  She shuddered exaggeratedly. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

  “That’s a relief.” He kissed her again, then swooped her up into his arms, making her shriek before laughing and kissing him back. “Now, my lady, I believe I made you a promise, so if you’ll point me in the direction of your room?”

  Ailanthe woke in darkness to find something pinning her down. Some experimental fumbling revealed it to be Coren’s arm flung across her stomach. He muttered something inarticulate when she prodded it, but otherwise didn’t move. She laid her hand on his broad shoulder and smiled. It might have been more than six years for him, but he certainly remembered his way around a woman’s body. And it was so wonderful not to sleep alone.

  She struggled beneath the weight of his arm to turn onto her side, facing him, and ran her hand from his shoulder down his back, settling just above his hip.

  “Ailanthe, I’m trying to sleep,” he murmured.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. You seemed deeply asleep.”

  “You’re naked and you’re wiggling. I would have to be dead not to be aware of that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” He rolled over and put his arms around her. “I’ve never actually spent the night with a woman before. The whole night, I mean. Deyanara always made sure of that.”

  “Who’s Deyanara?”

  Coren snorted. “A fate worse than death. When she was ten, she decided she was going to marry me—I was eighteen at the time, mind—and she spent the next seven years ruining every relationship I even thought of having. I’d meet a woman, one thing would lead to another, and then she’d treat me like I had a disease because she’d learned I, well, had a disease. Or was already married. Things like that. Never because Deyanara said anything, of course. The little bitch was good at dropping hints in the right ears. Toward the end, she started trying to seduce me so I’d get her pregnant and be forced to marry her. Even if I hadn’t been restless, I might still have left home just to get away from her.” He sighed. “But now I think I could endure another seven years of her if I could only be home again.”

  Ailanthe did a little math. “You’re thirty-one.”

  “I am. Thirty-two in another four months.”

  “I’m twenty-three. You’re much too old for me.”

  “I didn’t hear any complaints earlier.”

  “That was before I knew you were ancient—ohhh. Oh, do that again.”

  “You mean you want an old man doing…this?”

  “…Sorry. I forgot how to speak for a minute there. I no longer care about your age.”

  “Good. Because you’re not escaping me that easily.” He rolled over so she ended up lying on top of him. “I love you, Ailanthe.”

  “I love you, Coren.” It took her a few tries to find his mouth so she could kiss him, but the way he responded made it worth the effort.

  Chapter Twenty

  When she woke again, rectangles of light glowed behind the curtains, and someone was knocking on the door. “My lady?” Tristram said. “I have brought breakfast, but I fear I cannot find your friend.”

  Ailanthe sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. Beside her, Coren buried his head in the pillow and shook with laughter. “I, um, know where he is, Tristram,” she said. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I hope you are correct, my lady. Will you join me for a meal? I know you are partial to strawberries.”

  “Thank you, Tristram. Just let me get dressed.” She willed all the lights on and swatted Coren on his extremely attractive backside before climbing off the bed and putting on her clothes. “Do not tease Tristram today. The poor man really thinks he’s my true love.”

  “But teasing that smug Galendishman is so much fun. And he’s so thick he can’t see the way I look at you, so teasing hardly makes a dent in that arrogant shell he drags around with him.”

  Ailanthe concentrated briefly, and Coren’s clothes fell out of midair to land on his back. “He found Gweron’s study, so he’s not that oblivious. And he’s not a bad person, so be nice to him.”

  Coren sat up and pulled on his pants. “All right. But I can’t promise I won’t get in a dig or two if the opportunity presents itself.”

  “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.” Ailanthe kissed him. “Follow me when you’re ready.”

  When she entered the window room, Tristram smiled his dazzling smile and offered her a small plate piled high with juicy red strawberries. “I give you good morning, my lady,” he said, taking a strawberry and raising it to her lips. “I trust you slept well?”

  Ailanthe suppressed a sigh and bit into the berry, which was as luscious as it looked. “I slept very well, thank you.”

  “Would that I might say the same. I slept but fitfully, my concern for your safety driving all thoughts of rest from my head. I thought to offer you my protection, during the hours of night, but your maidenly blush tells me you are as yet still unwilling to acknowledge the bond between us, let alone permit me to consummate our love.”

  You’d have had a huge surprise if you’d come knocking on my door last night. “Tristram, your concern is so touching, but really, I don’t feel that way about you. Please don’t be offended when I ask you not to pursue me anymore.”

  Tristram laid aside the stem of the strawberry and took Ailanthe’s hand. “Your bashfulness does you credit, my lady,” he murmured. “Do not deny me the pleasure of courting you. You were right to say that we do not yet know one another well, but as long as we are trapped here, our acquaintance can only grow. I have not yet lost hope, my lady.”

  Ailanthe opened her mouth to tell him the truth, changed her mind and ate another strawberry. She ought to tell him, really; letting him find out on his own was cruel. But she felt so awkward blurting it out. Though she didn’t feel menaced by Tristram, he was so utterly convinced she just didn’t know she was in love with him that she was a little afraid of what he might do if she said Tristram, Coren and I are lovers, and even if we weren’t, you still wouldn’t have a chance with me. Well, that last part was probably unnecessary, even if it was true. She resolved to find the right time to tell him the truth; it felt wrong to do anything else.

  “Good morning,” Coren called out cheerfully. “Oh, strawberries!” He swept three of them off the plate and proceeded to snap the green stems off with his thumbnail before popping all three into his mouth at once. He chewed vigorously while helping himself to a handful of soft rolls and a pot of butter, juggling a knife between the two, and walked over to look out across the green valley.

  “My lady, I feel I should apologize for your friend’s uncouthness,” Tristram said in a low voice. “You ought not have to endure such crass behavior.”

  “Don’t worry, Tristram, I’m not offended. I’m used to his ways. We should make allowances, he’s been alone for so long I’m sure he’s forgotten what manners are,” Ailanthe said in a voice loud enough for Coren to hear. In reply, he belched, and Ailanthe had to cover her mouth quickly to keep from choking on her laughter. Tristram looked disgusted.

  “Look you still so fondly on him, as coarse as he is?” he said. “No, it is not my place to comment on your frien
dship. Allow me to serve you some bread and jam.”

  “No, Tristram,” Ailanthe said as inspiration struck, “let me serve you.” She picked up a plate and thought back to mornings back home, her father cooking breakfast over the gyrsta, and two perfectly fried eggs landed neatly on the plate. She passed it to Tristram with a little bow of her own.

  “My lady,” Tristram breathed, “I have never been more in awe of your powers than I am at this moment.” He searched around for a fork, then reverently lifted a bite to his lips and chewed slowly, his eyes half-closed.

  “Ailanthe,” Coren said, dropping the pretense at uncouthness, “can you make bacon?”

  “I’ve never had it, so I’m afraid not. But I can make eggs any way you want them.”

  “Sunny side up. Three, please.”

  Soon all three of them were sitting on the backless cube chairs, eating eggs in blissful silence. How much easier to call eggs into existence already poached, thought Ailanthe, and wouldn’t my father be so surprised? The toast was hot, the butter perfectly melted into its crevices, and the egg bled gold with every bite she took. She still didn’t know if the powers she now wielded were a permanent part of her, or if they would vanish once she was free of the Castle.

  She took another bite. It might not be so bad, having magic like Gweron’s, so long as she didn’t try to construct any magical buildings that could become intelligent and then go insane. And so long as Coren continued to look at her the way he had last night.

  “I am loath to leave these gustatory pleasures behind,” Tristram said, neatly wiping his mouth with the handkerchief he always carried that never seemed to become dirty, “but I believe we ought to begin our task. If the Castle discovers what we intend, it will certainly try to stop us.”

  “It attacked Coren last night,” Ailanthe said, “with the shadows. I think we should assume it’s not going to limit its aggression to me anymore. You should both be careful.”

  “So where do we start?” Coren said. “And what exactly are we looking for?”

  Both men looked to Ailanthe for an answer. She said, “I don’t know. I think…personally, I think he’s locked up somewhere, which means we should be looking for a hidden room. But it’s possible Coren is right and he’s been transformed. Either way, we’re looking for something saturated with magic. I can’t imagine Gweron wouldn’t fight back, so the Castle would have to pour a lot of magic into keeping him isolated. I can see magic, but we should…wait.” She picked up the lens, sliding a few of the buttons. “One of you can use this to see magic too.”

  Coren immediately held out his hand. Tristram said, “I think I am better equipped to handle the magic, my lady.”

  “Based on what, exactly? Your impeccable grammar?” Coren scoffed.

  “I at least am unlikely to crush the delicate instrument with my oafish hands.”

  “You can take turns,” Ailanthe said, “and no more insults, all right? Coren, you first. I think you’ll find looking through it for very long is tiring, anyway.”

  Coren accepted the lens, and Ailanthe was grateful he didn’t turn and stick his tongue out at Tristram. “I see magic on the diary, the windows, your key, and fainter magic on the things you’ve gained control over, like the painting,” he said. “Is there anything else in here the lens ought to register?”

  “That’s it.” Ailanthe summoned a couple of lamps and handed one to Tristram. “Do you have any suggestions as to how we should proceed, Tristram? You did find the study, after all.”

  Tristram thought about it. “I do not think we shall find him in his study,” he said, “as he wrote that he was leaving it to confront the Castle. It seems to me the Castle would hide him away where few people go, so I suggest we begin on this level and work our way down. If that is agreeable to you, my lady.”

  “It is. Then…let’s go.”

  The shadows followed them as they proceeded down the hall, stretching and bulging like ropy gray muscles. Ailanthe summoned another of her lamps and turned on every light in the hallway as they went. This kept the shadows at a distance, but did not discourage them entirely. Coren stepped closer to Ailanthe and murmured, “We must be doing something right.”

  Ailanthe nodded. “I’ve been trying to think of ways to more effectively dispel them, short of that display I put on last night. Us being blinded would be useless.” She slid the key into the first door opposite Coren’s suite. “Tristram, none of these rooms contains magical items, but there might still be hidden doors, so I’ll maintain the lights while the two of you search.”

  “As you command, my lady,” Tristram said. He aimed his lamp into the room before entering. “The shadows here do not move,” he reported.

  “Don’t assume that’s going to last,” Coren said, raising the lens to his eye. Ailanthe kept one of her lamps pointed inward while watching the shadows in the hall. Did she imagine that they were whispering, or was that the voice of the Castle Gweron reported hearing just before he vanished? She closed her ears to the unnerving sound.

  Coren and Tristram reappeared. “Nothing,” Coren said. “I think this floor may be a waste of our time.”

  “We can ill afford to pass over any possibility, Hesperan,” Tristram said. “Tedious it may be, but our very lives are at stake now.”

  “You’re right,” Ailanthe said. “But let’s do this as quickly as possible.”

  They fell into a pattern, Ailanthe unlocking a door, Tristram or Coren shining the lights inside the room while the other searched for false walls, moving cabinets, or even faint scuff marks on floor or wall. Ailanthe left the rooms unlocked behind them, no longer caring what the Castle thought of her disruptions.

  While she waited for the men to search, she stared into the darkness and tried not to think about what might happen if she carelessly stepped into the shadows. The Castle’s creatures weren’t trying to hide anymore and didn’t seem to care that she was watching them. Sometimes the dark presences retreated for a while, but mostly they shifted at the edge of where the light met the darkness, and Ailanthe could sense their eagerness to cross the area of light and leap on her. Neither Tristram nor Coren could hear the whispering, and she told herself that meant it was imaginary.

  It was well into the afternoon before they stood at the tower door and looked inside. The interior was shadowy, striped white by the light coming through the cracks in the walls, but strangely empty of threat. “I don’t think he’s up there,” Ailanthe said. “There’s nowhere to hide a secret room, and I’d have seen anything magical, what with all the time I’ve spent there.”

  “I should like to see it nonetheless, my lady,” Tristram said. “And we ought not leave anything unexplored.”

  Lamps burning, they went up the stairs, spreading out after Tristram and Coren crowded too close to Ailanthe and made the stairs groan as if stressed nearly to the breaking point. Ailanthe went straight to her pile of cushions and looked out toward her home. “That’s where I live,” she told Tristram, who was a little out of breath. “Somewhere in that direction, anyway. The mother trees all look so much alike from this height.”

  “It is beautiful, my lady,” Tristram said, settling close beside her. “It makes one think of elves dancing beneath those leaves at moonrise.”

  “They prefer the dark,” Ailanthe said. “Though I’ve seen them, once or twice, come to the pool to drink. You only see them in glimpses, and usually only when they aren’t trying to stay hidden. But they have a strange beauty that’s like nothing else.”

  “Not unlike your beauty, then,” Tristram said with a smile. “Though I do not call it strange.”

  “Tristram—”

  “I beg your pardon, my lady.” He stood and examined the floor and the windows, found the broken latch and pushed the pane open, letting in the wind that endlessly circled the tower. Coren reached past him and closed it, frowning at him. Tristram held out his hand. “My turn,” he said, “as I am certain you are weary of the lens’s burden.”

  Cor
en slapped it into his hand. “Enjoy yourself,” he grunted. “Ailanthe, there’s nothing up here but the three of us. Let’s have something to eat before we move on.”

  “Yes, but quickly,” she said, “because I want to search the Library next.”

  They ransacked the Library shelves, looking for another moving bookcase, and Ailanthe cringed every time they moved another stack of books to the floor. Who’s going to clean this up? she thought, and wondered if the Castle would stop performing its nightly ritual now that it was actively trying to stop them destroying it. She used her hands rather than her power, just in case.

  By dinnertime, they were all exhausted, and they’d proved the Library had no secrets other than the ones hidden inside its books. Ailanthe’s vision was blurry from trying to determine which, if any, of the magical books was different from the others. None had more than the same faint glow that characterized the hero books; none were nearly so bright as Gweron’s diary.

  As tired as she was, Ailanthe couldn’t resist creating a roast chicken smelling deliciously of rosemary and a stack of new potatoes swimming in butter. The hot meal revived everyone’s spirits, and even Tristram relaxed enough to speak to Coren without sniping at him, even if it was merely to ask him to pass the plate. Ailanthe debated summoning a bottle of wine from the Castle’s cellar, but decided in the end it was better they keep their heads unclouded. Besides, wine was for celebrating, and they didn’t have anything to celebrate yet.

  When the chicken was reduced to bones, Coren excused himself, and the moment he was out of the room Tristram knelt at Ailanthe’s side and took her hand, pressing it to his lips. “I find I cannot stay silent, my lady. You are all that is good and beautiful, and I cannot bear to see your heart yearn after one so far your inferior in every way. Please, my lady—Ailanthe. Allow me to be your defender.”

  Ailanthe’s mouth went slack in astonishment. “Tristram, I really don’t—”