[Fairytale 02] - Asleep (2013)

by Elizabeth Darcy

  The lowermost level of the tower housed the horses, and the smell of them was overwhelming in the enclosed space. The two thugs propelling Dev along dumped him unceremoniously in the dirty hay, and Dev landed inches from a steaming pile of horse excrement.

  “Charming,” he said.

  “I do hope you’re comfortable,” Ellaria said, bestowing a dazzling smile on him. “Go on, then. Have a nice rest here while you regain control of your limbs. I’m afraid you’ll have to climb the stairs yourself.”

  With that she disappeared, leaving him in the charge of two guards who stood over him with their hands on the pommels of their swords, looking bored. The smell of the horse’s waste filled Dev’s nostrils and choked his throat, nearly making him retch. He fought off the waves of nausea, refusing to allow himself to be sick. He wouldn’t give his captors the satisfaction of having to flip him over to prevent him from choking on his own vomit.

  When the drugs finally wore off, the guards seized Dev by the arms, taking him to the far side of the tower and nudging him up a narrow, steeply winding staircase. Nimble as he was, he imagined even he would have trouble fighting on the stairs with a light weapon, which meant it would be all but impossible for a knight in heavy armor wielding a longsword to make much headway.

  The interior of the tower was dank and dark. Candle sconces were regularly spaced along the walls, and the number of windows had been kept to a minimum, ensuring more security but less natural light. It was difficult to see and Dev stumbled over a step, almost sending him backward down the stairs. His heart hammered and his head swam with vertigo as he tried not to imagine tumbling all the way down those stone steps, cracking his skull against the floor at the bottom. Solid as they were, there was no guarantee that the guards behind him would have been able to break his fall. Instead, he might very well have taken them along with him.

  If I didn’t impale myself on their swords first. I wonder which would be a more pleasant way to die.

  At last, what seemed an interminable climb came to an end. The guards nudged Dev through an arch and into a gloomy corridor lit by one guttering torch. The corridor was circular, the archway through which Dev had stepped the only way to get out of it. Four closed doors stood before them, each one made of heavy, studded oak with a small window. Iron bars had been fitted into the windows, making the chambers’ purpose clear. He imagined they were pretty close to the top of the tower, which made sense. He didn’t want to think of how many floors full of troops someone would have to fight past in order to reach the dungeon.

  “Home sweet home,” Daryn taunted, putting a hand on the middle of Dev’s back and giving him a hard shove toward the leftmost door, almost knocking Dev to the floor. Balling his fists at his sides, Dev walked into the cell.

  As good as it had been to have control of his limbs again, Dev couldn’t sit fast enough, and he allowed his rubbery legs to give out, sinking to the floor just inside the door. Not surprisingly, the cell was just as dank and dark as the rest of the tower. A small barred window was across from the door, through which Dev could see a slice of gray sky. The cell was cold, and a biting wind whistled through the bars, forcing Dev to clamp his mouth shut so his teeth wouldn’t chatter. He was relieved by the distinct lack of chains but, then, Ellaria didn’t have much need of them when she could just drug him into submission. Dev’s hands balled into fists once more at the thought.

  The cell held a small wooden bed frame pushed flush against one of the bare stone walls, a filthy straw mattress on top. Judging by the jagged edges that had poked their way through the thin fabric covering, Dev felt pretty certain he wouldn’t be getting a restful night’s sleep. A small wooden bucket sat beneath the bed, which Dev took as a substitute for a garderobe, making him grimace. On the opposite wall there was a small table and a chair.

  “All the comforts of home,” he sneered up at his captors.

  “Seems his reputation for being obnoxious was understated,” the other guard mused to Daryn.

  “A few days up here ought to cure him of that,” Daryn replied, and they both laughed.

  A servant scurried into the cell, keeping her head down as if hoping the guards wouldn’t notice her. She dropped a couple of dirty blankets on top of the mattress and hurried out, ignoring the guards’ leering comments. Dev closed his eyes and indulged in a brief, violent fantasy that involved both of the men finding themselves on the wrong side of his sword.

  The guards left, closing the door behind them with a hollow thud, and Dev heard a bolt slide home as they locked it from the outside. He managed to pull himself into a sitting position and supported his heavy, throbbing head with his hand. His legs were still too shaky for him to be comfortable with attempting to stand, and his hands were unsteady as he pushed them through his matted hair. When he felt strong enough to move, he stumbled over to the bed, seizing the blankets and wrapping them around himself. The wind howled, the sound making him want to howl in reply.

  Not quite like your last visit to Moritan, is it?

  His mouth quirked bitterly, but then softened as he thought of that glorious week. It wasn’t the feather bed or the heavy velvet coverlets or the fire in his chamber that had made that week so memorable, it had been Jess’s presence. For the first time, he had looked at her, really looked at her. Gone was the impetuous, imperious child he remembered. Though the traces were still there, time and experience had softened the rough edges a bit. Jess possessed a tart sense of humor, and she told ribald jokes she’d heard from her troops, her face not betraying the slightest discomfort. But she also had a fine mind, and they had shared long conversations while accompanying their fathers on boring hunts, or when they were supposed to be paying attention to bad plays about the glories of Moritan.

  Jess thoroughly bewitched him. His past flirtations, his juvenile affections, had seemed so ridiculous in light of what he found in her. As he gazed at her beautiful face, hung on her every word, he felt like he had found some integral part of himself that he hadn’t even realized had been missing. With Jess he felt complete.

  The thought made him rub his chest in an attempt to quell the pain centered there, but he knew it was no use. Only one thing could fill the hole, and he was terrified he’d never again know how it felt to be complete.

  Chapter 16

  The feasting and entertainments dragged on and on. While Jess knew Adar and Nishana were every bit as anxious about their son as she was, and while she understood that the elaborate show was a means of attempting to set their visitors at ease and make them more amenable to the negotiations to come, she couldn’t help feeling both impatient and incredulous. But as she took a closer look at their faces, she saw the signs of wear in the dark circles Nishana had tried unsuccessfully to hide, in the pinched lines around Adar’s mouth, and she couldn’t be angry with them anymore. Had they done things Jess’s way, there’d have been a lot of yelling and emphatic declarations, and Jess was savvy enough to know her way wasn’t the most effective method to go about begging for the aid of the other monarchs. She’d just have to try to be patient like the Estorian royal family was. She would have to try to observe protocol and pay attention to the niceties, however little stomach she had for it.

  On the third day, there was finally a break in the feasting so that the war council could begin. Jess was relieved that it was time for talk at last. She’d already ruined several practice weapons taking out her frustrations on training dummies, and she thought her troops would be relieved not to have to watch their wild-eyed princess hack wooden figures to bits. Adar saw his guests settled and supplied with wine before he began. They had agreed to meet without councillors in order to maintain secrecy, and Jess looked around, studying the other monarchs.

  Mahlia’s heavy-lidded gaze betrayed nothing. The Deshiran queen wore a close-fitting gown of delicate red silk, so thin it was almost transparent. Even Jess marveled at the thread of gold and gold beads that covered is surface in elaborate patterns; undoubtedly, many seamstresses had gone
blind making the tiny, careful stitches required to work such fabric without tearing it. A gold circlet worked to look like stems with thin, wicked thorns, tiny gems at their tips suggesting drops of blood, rested on her smooth, mahogany brow. The blood-red gems glittered against the rippling sheet of black hair that tumbled to Mahlia’s waist. Though striking, there was something slightly asymmetric about her features that kept her from being conventionally beautiful. Her nose was a touch too long for her face, but she had stunning green eyes and a wide, white smile.

  Toran looked bored to distraction, his mouth twisted in displeasure. He was ten, but Jess would have guessed his age to be closer to six, so diminutive was his stature. The perfect roundness of his head was unnerving, and his tiny features reminded Jess of a rat. A cap of unruly curls crowned his head, his skin a strange, milky shade of bluish white. His odd blue eyes reminded Jess of a cat’s.

  By contrast, his Uncle Beland was tall, thin, and strikingly handsome, his features aquiline. Beland looked sharp, focused, but his posture suggested relaxation. He wore a heavy gold chain of office that hung over his deep blue doublet, the color setting off his pale blue eyes. Like his nephew, his hair was dark and curly, but his was shorter and meticulously groomed. Everything about him reminded Jess of a hawk, and she half expected him to turn his head with an abrupt swivel like a bird of prey. Jess couldn’t decide who she distrusted more: the petulant child king or the regent who placated him, keeping his nephew pliant so he could do as he pleased. Noticing that her attention was focused on him, Beland stared at her with his piercing gaze, smiling a predatory smile. She stared back at him impassively.

  “Why are we still here?” Toran asked in his shrill voice. “I hate this place and want to go home to my castle.”

  Adar and Nishana stiffened, though both kept their expressions cordial, and Tanvir’s face was a mask. Jess clamped her hands together under the table, so tightly her knuckles ached.

  “Forgive my nephew, Your Majesties. We’ve thoroughly enjoyed your hospitality, but I must confess I am also anxious to return to Corland. I’m quite concerned about my nephew’s safety, in light of the unfortunate…incident in Lyrane,” Beland said, looking away from Jess so that he could pierce Adar with his gaze instead. Jess’s father bristled but didn’t respond. Farah looked at Beland with a cold expression, and he offered her a charming smile in response. “Please, don’t take offense. It could have happened to anyone, I’m sure. It’s just that Toran is so young and—”

  “I don’t need you to apologize for me!” Toran snapped at his uncle. “I am king of Corland, the greatest of the Realms. No one would be fool enough to dare attempt to abduct me.”

  It was on the tip of Jess’s tongue to say that no one in their right mind could want to kidnap such an obnoxious, worthless brat, but she refrained. She just might need the obnoxious, worthless brat’s troops, and she wasn’t above making nice with him in order to get what she needed—not when Dev’s life was at stake.

  “Of course they wouldn’t, Your Majesty,” Beland said soothingly.

  “What can Deshira do to assist you?” Mahlia asked, aiming a sympathetic smile at Adar.

  Oh, so she’s decided to play the friend, to place herself in opposition to Beland.

  Jess wasn’t alone in thinking this, apparently. She caught Beland eyeing Mahlia with a sardonic twist to his mouth.

  “We can all assist one another,” Adar said. “And I should be clear that the Lyranian royal family and the Estorian royal family are in perfect accord. We are already family in all but name.” A flush of pride and affection went through Jess, and she caught her future father-in-law’s eye. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Of course,” Mahlia said, her voice a purr. “We know how close your Realms have become these past two years.” Looking up, Mahlia met Jess’s eyes, and a sort of wordless communication passed between them. Jess realized that Mahlia wanted to get her alone, and she had a feeling that whatever it was Mahlia wanted would only be revealed in private conference.

  “What do you mean by saying we can assist one another?” Beland asked. His face remained placid but his eyes grew chillier.

  “We have information that’s of concern to the Realms as a whole,” Tanvir said, his gaze fixed on Beland’s face.

  “Reports indicate that a force is amassing in Moritan, near Skyhold,” Farah said.

  “We’ve heard similar rumors,” Mahlia said, her tone noncommittal.

  “As have we,” Beland added.

  “Why should we care about Skyhold?” Toran broke in. “Skyhold poses no threat to us.”

  “Skyhold poses a threat to Mallaric,” Beland told his nephew, his tone patronizing.

  “So what? If that fool can’t hold onto his throne, perhaps he doesn’t deserve to sit on it.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Jess saw the flash of disgust that crossed Tanvir’s features, mirroring her own feelings.

  “Have you reached out to Mallaric?” Mahlia asked, leaning forward, her attention fixed on Adar.

  “We tried, but all he sent was a short message saying he could not leave his Realm at this time, though he did not elaborate on why this was. We offered to come to him, but he said it would not be necessary,” Nishana said.

  “Then he must be worried about the threat Skyhold poses,” Mahlia said. “Though I cannot imagine why he did not request help.”

  “Mallaric is overconfident in his own abilities,” Beland said. “I’ve heard rumors about Skyhold for the past couple of years.”

  “And you did not share them with us?” Omar asked, his tone even.

  Beland shrugged carelessly. “I had nothing of substance. I merely took an interest because Mallaric and I have a difference of opinion when it comes to Ellaria Reykstend.”

  “You think Ellaria’s behind the kidnapping,” Mahlia broke in.

  “Yes, we do.” Nishana told them about the accents and the ring.

  “It’s flimsy evidence at best,” Beland said.

  “If either of you have information to share with us, by all means do so,” Adar said, an edge creeping into his voice.

  “I have no interest in anything other than friendship with Lyrane and Estoria,” Mahlia said. “I conducted a thorough investigation in Deshira, and I can assure you that no one in my Realm was involved in Prince Devaran’s kidnapping.”

  “No one would dare take Prince Devaran without my order, and I never gave such a command,” Toran announced, puffing his small chest.

  “Do you have any additional information you would like to share, my lord Beland?” Jess asked, her voice soft.

  “Your Highness, you must know that if I had information I would share it with you in all haste.” Beland stared at her.

  “That’s precisely why we believe Ellaria is involved,” Tanvir interjected. “We do not believe that any of the other Realms would do something so dishonorable as kidnapping my brother.” The tension in the chamber eased, and Jess was grateful for his cool head and his tact.

  “So you believe Ellaria will make a play for Mallaric’s throne, but that doesn’t explain why you believe she took Prince Devaran,” Mahlia said.

  “He was bait,” Jess said, the words bitter in her mouth. “By taking him, she hoped to bring me to her.”

  “Are you saying you think she has aspirations beyond Moritan?” Beland asked.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what we’re saying,” Farah said.

  “No force from Moritan could pose a serious threat to us,” Toran scoffed.

  “We shouldn’t underestimate Ellaria Reykstend,” Beland said. “She is a woman of ambition.”

  “What do you propose?” Mahlia asked.

  “We propose an alliance between our four Realms,” Nishana told her.

  “Ellaria expects me to rush into battle with her. If she can rid herself of both me and Prince Devaran, it makes her path much clearer,” Jess said.

  “What she won’t expect is for our combined forces to march against her,�
� Tanvir said.

  “Are you asking us to supply you with troops so that you may enter another Realm without authorization?” Beland asked, arching his brows.

  “Certainly not,” Farah said, bristling at the suggestion.

  “Ellaria is about to make her move,” Tanvir said.

  “Our evidence confirms that,” Omar added.

  “Yes, I believe you’re correct,” Mahlia said. “I received a strange report today but it makes sense in this context.”

  “What sort of report?” Nishana asked. Jess thought the queen meant for her voice to sound casual, but there was a cold edge to it.

  “As you may remember, my cousin is installed in Mallaric’s court. She has sent me word that Mallaric is hording supplies in Ygres and has established roadblocks on the northern roads.”

  “He’s preparing for an assault and trying to prevent supplies from reaching Skyhold,” Beland said.

  “All the more reason for us to form an alliance,” Omar said in an even tone.

  “If he’s refused assistance, Mallaric must believe he can quell the rebellion.”

  “Are you willing to put your faith in his ability?”

  “Why not seal the ports? If Ellaria means to strike at us, she will have to come by sea,” Mahlia pointed out.