Once Upon a Castle

by Nora Roberts

Here she sits, Nicholas thought in grudging admiration as he swallowed the last of the ham, in a serving woman’s homespun, within as poor and humble a cottage as any in the land, and she moves and speaks and looks every inch a noblewoman.

  A beautiful noblewoman.

  The last thing he intended to do was allow her to put herself in danger, and setting foot inside Castle Doom would be perilous indeed.

  It was with great doubt that Arianne accompanied him shortly thereafter to the manor house of one of Dinadan’s nobles.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she murmured as they traversed the hilly ground leading to the gates.

  “Sir Castor was the one person who believed in me when my father banished me, the only one who came forward and told me that he suspected what I knew to be true: that Julian had somehow conspired to ruin me in the eyes of my father, to turn him against me. I sent a message ahead to him before embarking on my journey to Dinadan. He’s expecting me.”

  Sir Castor was a bowlegged, hawk-nosed, robust old knight whose black mustache and whiskers matched his deepset eyes. As he came striding into the hall, he looked as if he would be far more at home on the fighting field than here in his richly embroidered tunic and fur-lined surcoat. At sight of Nicholas, he froze.

  “By all that is holy, it is you!” Joy suffused his fierce pink face. “Lord Nicholas, at last. Ah, my boy, at last!”

  Arianne had no doubt of his loyalty when she saw the way he greeted Nicholas and ushered him through the great hall, then called for food and wine.

  She was introduced and warmly greeted. Then the two men talked long and hard.

  But Sir Castor frowned when Nicholas informed him he intended to enter the castle as soon as possible.

  “Why not wait until you can be sure of a stronger force behind you, my lord? My men, of course, will follow you. I will assign them as you say, but alone they’re no match for those black-masked troops of Julian’s. Now if Lady Arianne could summon forth her brother’s knights to join with mine, then we would have a real army. But they may not come in time…”

  “We’ll send word to Galeron’s captain this day,” Nicholas replied curtly, “but we cannot wait. We cannot wait even for my men, those I have attempted to summon during my journey.”

  Sir Castor gazed at him inquiringly. “Your men?”

  “Those soldiers for hire that I trained and led into battle during my years away from home. My lieutenants are assembling the men-at-arms even as we speak.” His tone was grim, and he flicked a glance at Arianne before continuing quietly, “Count Marcus is being starved and has probably been beaten. In a matter of mere days he is scheduled to hang. It’s possible that my men and Galeron’s will arrive by then, perhaps even sooner—but I’m taking no chances. I want him out.”

  “As do I,” Arianne said tautly, rising from the gilded bench near the window and approaching them.

  Sir Castor smiled at her when Nicholas told him he wished Lady Arianne to be hidden here at the manor and given every protection and comfort until the business was ended.

  “Of course. My lady, you are most welcome. My wife will be pleased to—“

  “You are all consideration, my lord. But I am going into the castle this very day, with or without Lord Nicholas. I have as much right to protect my brother’s life as he does—no, more.”

  Sir Castor appeared astonished. He turned toward Nicholas, waiting for him to contradict her.

  But Nicholas was watching Arianne closely. The strength of her resolve was not lost on him. He made a sudden decision.

  He knew something of injustice, and it struck him suddenly and forcibly that it would be injustice indeed to confine her to this house while matters so important and so close to her heart were being decided.

  Besides, it was true that she could prove helpful to him. Two heads were better than one. Two of them working together within the castle might move things along with the speed that was needed.

  “The lady speaks with courage—and conviction.” He gave her a curt, unsmiling nod, hoping he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. “You may come.”

  Arianne’s relief nearly made her dizzy. She quickly recovered and with grave dignity held out her hand to Nicholas.

  He raised it to his lips and kissed her fingers lightly. All the while, he held her gaze. It was suddenly all Arianne could do not to tremble as his lips brushed along her skin.

  “You have made a wise decision, my lord.” Arianne struggled to concentrate as he continued to hold her hand in his. “It’s apparent that you will govern sagaciously when Julian is overthrown and you take your rightful place as Archduke of Dinadan,” she added with a smile.

  But then she saw the ready, answering smile freeze upon his lips. Sir Castor made a coughing sound.

  “I will never rule in Julian’s stead.”

  Nicholas’s tone was calm and level, yet Arianne heard the quiet pain beneath it and felt her heart constrict.

  “But why not? You’re Archduke Armand’s firstborn son. It is your right…”

  Her voice faded away as too late she remembered Archduke Armand’s terrible pronouncement—that Nicholas was never to succeed him upon the throne.

  “Surely the pronouncement was unjust,” she hurried on. “Especially if, as you believe, Julian did indeed conspire to turn your father against you. If your quarrel was due to that and not to your own misdeeds, surely your father’s edict need not stand.”

  “I will honor it.” The grim finality of his tone sliced through her like a knife’s blade. “As I never properly honored him in his lifetime.”

  He spun away from her and strode to the window, staring past the rich velvet curtains at the rolling, fertile land beyond.

  Suddenly she wanted to go to him. She didn’t know why. She only knew that she wanted to touch his cheek, his hair, to smooth that hard jaw, as if by doing so she could smooth away the pain he tried to hide.

  But her feet were rooted to the floor. He looked so unapproachable. So strong and resolute. As if he would never need the soothing word or touch of a girl he could only regard as a nuisance.

  “My lord, perhaps you could reconsider…for Dinadan…” Sir Castor began, but Nicholas interrupted.

  “My father died without my ever having reconciled with him.” He spoke with a harsh matter-of-factness, but in his eyes she saw the dark flash of grief for just a moment. Then it was gone, hidden, and the cool, light grayness was back, revealing nothing of his soul. “For that I will never forgive myself. Or Julian.”

  He turned toward them again. “The edict cannot be overturned. I won’t allow it. That would be the ultimate disrespect for my father’s wishes. Enough.” He held up a hand as Sir Castor started to argue. “It’s done with. Let’s talk of strategy.”

  Nicholas gazed from one to the other of them. “I’ve been mulling the matter all morning and now have the seedlings of a plan.”

  Late that afternoon, four of Duke Julian’s feared black-masked soldiers rode through the tip of the Great Forest, just east of the castle walls.

  Suddenly a log fell across the road. Their horses reared up in alarm. Before the soldiers could even draw their swords, they were surrounded.

  It was a brief and bloody battle.

  Nicholas killed the two brawniest with two sweeps of his sword. Sir Castor’s men-at-arms slew the others.

  Arianne watched from beneath an oak tree at the edge of the forest, her heart in her throat. In this battle there was little for her to do. But she would soon play a part.

  Once inside the castle, she would get her chance to be of use. She could finally strike back at Julian, could finally get Marcus out of that cell. No longer would she have to rush around the inn discreetly gathering information, trying to concoct a workable plan. Now she would be inside Castle Doom itself, where she could act.

  And Nicholas would be working with her. His presence inspired confidence. Yet, she acknowledged as she somberly watched the battle in the road, they were only two.
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br />   Somehow they must thwart Duke Julian, who had all the power of Dinadan at his command. His Captain of Arms, a man known as Baylor, was feared by all who encountered him, and his knights were known for their ruthlessness and efficiency.

  Capture would mean imprisonment and almost certain death.

  What lay before them would be more dangerous than anything Arianne had ever imagined back in Castle Galeron, before Marcus had been taken prisoner. But she refused to let her thoughts dwell on that.

  When one of Sir Castor’s men brought her the garments of the smallest knight who had been killed, she retreated into the forest and donned them quickly. A short time later, Duke Julian’s company was again seen making its way toward the castle.

  Over the drawbridge and beneath the portcullis they went. Leaving their horses for the royal groomsmen, they entered the great hall. The largest and the smallest of the four ducked without incident into a small, little-used chamber branching off the corridor that led to the solar.

  “Quickly,” Nicholas growled as Arianne tore off her mask and guard’s cloak.

  “I’m moving as quickly as I can,” she snapped. Her fingers flung off the heavy tunic.

  Beneath the guard’s uniform she wore the sedate green-gold gown of a lady-in-waiting, provided by Sir Castor’s wife.

  “Do you remember how to reach the duchess’s apartments?” Nicholas asked as he rolled the discarded garments into a bundle, then draped his cloak over them.

  “Down this hall and through the first chamber on the left. Nicholas…” She touched his arm as he reached forward to ease open the door.

  “Take care,” she blurted out, suddenly shy as she met his cool gaze. He stared down at her, and Arianne tried to slow the thumping of her heart. It suddenly occurred to her that if something went awry, this might be the last time she ever saw him.

  Fear for him more than for herself made her tremble.

  “You take care, Arianne. Take very good care. Stay with the duchess’s ladies and avoid the duke at all costs.”

  Was that something more than ordinary concern in his voice? Arianne wondered in amazement, lifting her gaze to his intent face. With great gentleness he traced a finger along her cheek. “Don’t try to find me or Sir Castor’s men,” he warned. “When it’s time to act, I’ll come to you.”

  His expression changed, softened, as he stared down at her. He’s going to kiss me, she thought on a rush of wild joy, certain that she had not misread the expression in his eyes. But abruptly, almost savagely, he pushed her away.

  “Go. Now, Ari. Don’t pause and don’t look back.”

  The next thing she knew, he had pushed her out into the corridor and she was hurrying along, glancing neither to the left nor to the right.

  She reached the apartment where the duchess and her ladies resided. There was only one woman inside when she slipped through the door—a small, slim figure standing at the window, her light brown hair coiled in a braid so tight that not even a wisp escaped.

  The figure stiffened as Arianne shut the door behind her. “I asked you to please wait in the garden. I wish to be alone—“

  The small, weary voice broke off when the young woman saw Arianne swiftly crossing the room toward her.

  “You…You’re not one of my…who…Lady Arianne?”

  “You remember.” Arianne beamed hopefully at her and took her hands. “Oh, Katerine, I beg of you—do not give me away.”

  5

  Incredulity and shock mingled on the young duchess’s heart-shaped face. Then bone-thin fingers clenched Arianne’s with surprising strength.

  “You’re here for Marcus,” she whispered. “I’m so glad!”

  She cares for him still, Adrianne thought on a breath of hope. Despite the richness of her sky-blue gown and the jewels at her throat and upon her fingers, the Duchess of Dinadan looked poorly indeed—pale, thin, and drawn, with obvious shadows beneath her soft brown eyes.

  “Yes,” Arianne replied, squeezing her hands. “That’s exactly why I’m here. Tell me, have you seen Marcus? Is he all right? Have they hurt him?”

  “He’s weak, and Julian had him beaten by that dreadful Baylor only a few days ago—but he has been brave, so brave. Oh, Arianne, it is terrible. Julian is a monster!”

  Beaten! Arianne choked back her rage. “It’s clear you’re not happy in your marriage, Katerine—“

  “I hate it—and Julian!” Katerine shuddered. “Arianne, being married to Julian is a nightmare.”

  “Will you help me rescue Marcus?”

  The girl’s eyes shone. She spoke simply. “I’ll do anything to help him.”

  “It’s dangerous,” Arianne warned. “If you were to be caught, Julian would be furious.”

  “He would not hesitate to have me put to death. I am sure of it,” the duchess whispered. “As for the treaty with my father, he would forgo it and invade Ruanwald in a twinkling.” She took a deep breath, her shoulders trembling. “But I have to risk it—I can’t let him murder Marcus.”

  “Don’t worry. If we’re careful, you won’t be caught and neither will I,” Arianne said, turning on her heel and beginning to pace around the pretty chamber with its tapestries and rush-strewn floor. “It is Julian who’s going to suffer, Katerine, not you, not Marcus. Not any longer.”

  “I have been smuggling food to him when I go for my daily visits,” Katerine said brokenly. “Some bread and cheese. One of the guards looks the other way—I think he believes it cannot do any harm.”

  “Daily visits?”

  “Yes. Julian comes to my chamber each afternoon and insists that I accompany him and whatever visitors are in the castle on a tour of the dungeon. He is no doubt on his way here at this very moment, Arianne. By all that is holy, you must hide…”

  “No—take me with you.”

  “But none of my ladies has ever come. They hate going there. They have begged me not to force them. Julian will notice if one of them changes her custom.”

  “We’ll have to risk it,” Arianne decided, biting her lip. “I must see Marcus so he will know that rescue is at hand.”

  She had only just finished speaking when they heard the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall. A knot tightened in her stomach. She had not seen Julian since she was a child. On his last visits to Castle Dinadan, her father had not brought Arianne along, and when Julian had accompanied Duke Armand on a royal visit to Galeron a few years ago, Arianne had been away, visiting at the court of Count Paxton. So Julian ought not to recognize her. Especially if…

  Her gaze fell on a wimple atop a wooden chest in the corner. No doubt it belonged to Katerine or one of her ladies-in-waiting. She dashed toward it and slipped it over her braided hair, in one smooth movement fastening the linen band beneath her chin and adjusting the stiff white cap so that it completely hid her hair.

  Katerine let out a small gasp as the door swung open without warning. Arianne turned calmly toward it.

  “My lord,” the duchess murmured, a slight quaver in her voice.

  Julian surveyed her from the doorway. Behind him stood an entourage of noblemen, soldiers, and courtiers, among them, Arianne noted in a swift glance, one who wore the starred black-and-white robes and pointed black-velvet hat of a Dinadaian astrologer. But Arianne paid scant attention to any of them—she was interested only in the tall, slim man whose sea-blue eyes chilled her even from across the room.

  Julian was handsome in the same way a beautiful marble statue is handsome. There was a cold perfection in the way his wavy golden hair fell to his shoulders, in the arrogance of his chin and of his long, thin nose. His hands flashed with the fire of numerous rings, and his richly embroidered robes and velvet shoes bespoke royalty as much as did the golden emerald-studded crown upon his head. But there was no spark of warmth, no trace of humanity in that finely chiseled face. His narrow mouth revealed cruelty, and his movements were sweeping and precise as he stepped forward into the chamber and offered his arm to his wife.

  “Come, my dear,
it is time for our tour.”

  Katerine hurried toward him. As Arianne, head bowed, went to follow, she heard his voice bark out, “What’s this? You never take your ladies into the dungeon. They are too weak and sniveling to face the enemies of this land.”

  “I am feeling ill today, my lord,” Katerine answered at once. “Lady…Lucinda offered to accompany me should I have need of her.”

  “Lady Lucinda.” Heedless of the group waiting in the hall, Julian turned his head to inspect Arianne, studying her with curiosity. “You are braver than the rest of my wife’s serving women,” he sneered. “Your devotion is touching.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Look at me when I speak to you, insolent woman!”

  She snapped her head up. Her heart was hammering. Julian was staring at her, scrutinizing her every feature with heart-stopping shrewdness. “Have I seen you before?”

  “Of course, my lord.” Arianne was thankful that her voice did not quaver. But beneath her gown her knees were shaking.

  “It seems I would remember such a pretty face.” There was a different tone to his voice now, a considering, almost admiring tone. Right in front of his wife, Arianne thought, her contempt mounting.

  Thank God Katerine didn’t care for him. She risked a small smile.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  If you dare to touch me, I’ll kill you, my lord.

  To her relief, he turned then, his robes sweeping behind him. “Let us delay no longer. The miserable scum in the dungeons await our inspection.”

  Julian led the way down a dim stair. The dungeon master bowed low as the duke approached him at the head of the dank corridor of cells. You must be brave, Arianne told herself, feeling sweat on her palms. You mustn’t cry out or give any sign when you see Marcus, no matter how awful he looks.

  They passed gaunt, miserable men and women, chained and bruised, some whose eyes were filled with hate, others with pleading, or dull hopelessness. When they reached Marcus’s cell, the duke paused to consider him.

  “My fine traitor of a cousin has little time left to ponder his betrayal of Dinadan,” he taunted. “Only think what your treachery has cost you, Marcus of Galeron. All of your lands are under my control—or will be soon. Your riffraff soldiers cannot escape my men for long. And there is no leader in your land. Even your sister has deserted her people. When I find her, she will take your place in this cell for daring to defy me.”