Once Upon a Castle

by Nora Roberts

  A cold fist squeezed Cador’s heart. There was truth in her statement. She did indeed hold the key. By wounding her pride, he had pushed her too far. He felt as if he had tried to take a step on solid ground and found himself plummeting through thin air. She would not forgive him for it. Nor could he ever again forget that she was born to be a queen, while he was only Cador of Kildore.

  Still, he had to try. “For the love of God, then, tell me the way in. I will go myself.”

  “You are needed to lead the assault,” she said coolly.

  His anger went almost as deep as his fear for her. “After the way you have taken over,” he said bitterly, “I am surprised that you feel you need me at all.”

  She bit her lip and turned away, afraid to let him see how much she needed him, knowing that he could never understand that her duties to her people must come before everything. Even his pride.

  Even their love.

  “There is no other in whom I would place such trust,” she said simply. “We must return to camp and prepare.” The fate of Amelonia rested upon her shoulders.

  The three of them rode back through the forest in constrained silence. When they reached the open grasslands by the lake, she spurred her horse and galloped across the countryside, trying to outrun their mutually angry words and their potential consequences. Cador would have to understand that she had no choice. Wouldn’t he?

  That night Tressalara made up the blankets on the ground of Cador’s tent. He and his lieutenants were planning the best route of attack once they were within the castle walls. Since her identity must be kept secret until then, she had reluctantly agreed to continue in her role as Trev. His anger seemed to have dissolved, although he had seemed preoccupied upon their return. She felt that her own anger had been justified, though she tried not to remember the look in his eyes when she had defied him. If they were to have only this night and so few others together before the battle with Lector, she wanted them to be perfect.

  Hours passed, and still Cador did not come to her. She lay with her head upon his pillow, inhaling his familiar scent and filled with thwarted yearning. She ached to feel his strong arms around her, his lips upon hers, and to know that their heated words had not formed a cold wedge between them.

  It was almost dawn when she heard a rustling and called out his name. It was only faithful Rossmine, returned from her errand of carrying Tressalara’s urgent warning to Elani.

  Opening the tiny tube, the princess saw that the pebble was gone. It had been replaced instead by a tiny pink seed pearl. She smiled. It had surely come from Elani’s ring. That meant her friend had understood the message. Her heart warmed.

  Then she saw Cador sleeping a few feet away beneath the trees, rolled up in his heavy cloak. He had slept on the hard dirt like a common peasant, rather than share her bed. Tressalara turned silently and went back inside with leaden heart, knowing that whatever had been between them was over.

  8

  The black swan flapped onto the riverbank. “I don’t understand that stupid human of yours,” Illusius honked. “First she wants Cador, then she doesn’t.”

  “Of course she wants him,” Niniane trumpeted, pecking at him with her bill. “And she is not a stupid human. After all, she is letting him be what he is born to be. Why is he trying to prevent her from doing the same?”

  Illusius nipped back at her sharply. “You’re just as silly as your human. Why don’t you just fly off and leave me be?”

  The white swan’s ruffled feathers stood out like rounded spikes. “Very well, I will!”

  Instantly there was a puff of purple smoke. When it cleared, two frogs sat on the floor of the Caverns of Mist, glaring at each other. “Oh, no!” said the darker of the two.

  “Oh, yes,” replied the Niniane frog. “Here we are again. But…something is different. Oh, look! Myrriden!”

  Illusius turned his bulbous eyes toward the rear of the cavern and croaked in surprise. The great wizard was still frozen, but the block of ice that encased him was much smaller than before. A great puddle of meltwater lay over the floor like a quicksilver pool. He hopped closer. “Do you know what I think?”

  Niniane sprang up and down in excitement. “Yes, I do! I do. I’m beginning to see a pattern here. Don’t you remember before when I said cooperation was the key?”

  “Cooperation? Oh. I thought you said concentration.” Another puff of purple smoke arose, blinding them. When it vanished, the two apprentices were back to their original forms. “Look,” Niniane exclaimed, wafting the sleeves of her gown. “You were right, Illusius. Arms! And hands!”

  “And lips!” Illusius shouted, whirling her off her feet in his elation and planting a kiss on her mouth before he knew what he was about.

  He set her down as suddenly as he’d picked her up. Niniane stared at him, dumbfounded. For once in her entire existence she found herself speechless. Two major revelations in one short span of time were more than any apprentices should have to deal with. They blushed and looked at one another shyly.

  “Uh, that was…nice, wasn’t it? Would you mind very much if I, uh, did that again?” he asked.

  “Why, um, not at all,” she said, smiling up at him from beneath her lashes.

  But before they could repeat the experiment there was a tremendous crash from the far end of the cavern. The apprentices jumped guiltily and turned toward the source of the sound.

  On the night of Lector’s reception, the sunset sky was like a lake of bloody fire over Cador’s new camp at the forest’s edge. Several of the rebels took it as an evil omen and made the signs to ward off the evil eye. Cador and Brand exchanged signals. It was time.

  As the rebel chief barked out his orders, Cador went to his tent where Tressalara was dressing. When he first swept the flap aside, she was perched on the edge of his camp bed in a circle of light from the lamp, brushing her waist-length hair. It gleamed like skeins of red-gold silk. A long, slitted tunic of gleaming white silk shot with gold threads pooled around her on the mattress, and a pair of silvery white kid boots lay beside her dainty feet.

  He drew in a deep breath. Cador knew he would remember this sight as long as he lived. Tressalara, with her hair like flame, sitting on the bed where they had made love only days before. Now it was almost like something he had dreamed. And, like all dreams, it had ended with the waking realization that it had been just an illusion. The gold and amethyst coronet that she wore upon her brow, emblazoned with the dragon symbol of the royal house, was proof of that.

  As he entered, she looked up and caught her breath. He was so handsome in his armor of embossed leather and chased steel, so much the fierce golden warrior who had stolen her heart that Tressalara knew she would never forget this moment. The bittersweetness of it pierced her like a sword—for good or ill, it was the last time they would meet like this.

  She wanted to tell him everything that was in her heart, but the stony look on his face made her forget the words she had practiced so carefully. His eyes, glowing with blue fire, melted her very bones. She remembered when they had blazed with desire for her, and felt her body respond to the memory. If only she could step into his arms and lose herself in his embrace once more.

  But it was not to be. Her rank, his pride, and their bitter quarrel had driven a wedge of steel between them. Not even the passion they had once shared could overcome it. Now he addressed her only as Amelonia’s future queen. Since their quarrel he had not once called her by her given name, much less touched her.

  It was Cador who broke the silence. “At the risk of drawing down your wrath upon my head, I will ask you one more time, your majesty. Will you let me send you to a place of safety and go to battle myself in your place?”

  Her face was pale in the lantern light. “And at the risk of invoking your wrath, I will repeat: My place is in the midst of the fight.”

  He started to reply, then stopped. It was no use. “Come, then. Let me present you to your army.”

  She twisted her mass of hai
r into a neat chignon at the back of her neck and held it in place with two ivory pins. The moment of truth had come. She was no longer young Trev, or even a lovelorn princess with a broken heart. From this moment on, she was in all respects Amelonia’s uncrowned queen.

  The future held either death or glory.

  Brand had assembled his men for an announcement. “When it comes time for battle, every man needs a symbol to remind him of what he is fighting for and what he stands to lose.”

  At Brand’s signal a banner was raised. “Here is our standard. This white dragon you all recognize as the symbol of Amelonia’s royal house and the true heir. Added to it now at the behest of the Princess Tressalara herself is this oak tree, symbol of the freedom to which every man and woman and child in this kingdom is heir.”

  A cheer went up from the throng. Brand stilled them with a raised hand. Cador stepped into the torchlight, leading a figure costumed in a long white tunic with flowing sleeves. She held a glittering sun mask on a gilded rod before her face, such as noblewomen used on state occasions. A hush fell over the assembly. In the stillness that followed, a great white hawk speared down from the highest tree to perch on the white-garbed woman’s arm. A frisson of excitement went through the crowd.

  Tressalara peered through her mask at the mass of rebels gathered in camp. The new banner, which she had designed and stitched herself during the past five days, stirred in the breeze. It gave her a strange thrill of pride, yet humbled her at the same time. She had baptized it with her own blood—and it had been worth every knot and curse and needle prick. Cador took the mask from Tressalara’s hand.

  “Behold, men and woman of Amelonia! I bring you another symbol, a living one this time, hidden for safety in our midst for lo, these many weeks. Behold your princess, soon to be crowned your queen!”

  Tressalara stepped forward into the glare of the torches. Not a one recognized the disheveled boy Trev in the elegant woman she had become. A murmur arose from the crowd, like the whispering of a mighty wind through the ancient forest. Singly and in groups, the assembled rebels sank to their knees in homage. Then the sound grew, a low, throaty rumble changing to a mighty roar.

  “Long live our royal princess! Long live Tressalara! Life and victory to our noble queen!”

  Brand swung up onto his horse. “To arms, then!”

  As he rounded up his men, Cador readied to help Tressalara mount a fine black mare. Once she had thrown her dark-blue hooded cloak over her shoulders she would be almost invisible in the night. He stopped and drew his sword, then nicked his palm. “My life’s blood for you, lady. I swear it.”

  His words chilled her. “I would rather that none of yours was spilled in any cause,” she replied shakily. “Guard yourself well, Cador.” My love.

  He didn’t reply, only wiped his hand and prised out the dome of rock crystal set into his sword pommel. He removed the amulet inside. She saw that it was suspended from a fine chain. It caught the light with a flash of luminous fire that reminded Tressalara of the great Andun Crystal itself.

  “Wear this for me,” he told her, “to bring me luck. And if I fall, return it to my father, Laird of Kildore.”

  He slipped the chain over her head. The silver was warm from his touch. Despite the coolness between them, Tressalara felt protected and cherished by his action. “I will wear it proudly, Cador—and pray that my doing so will bring you through this night safely.”

  There was nothing more to be said. They mounted and rode off through the darkening forest, splitting into various groups that would rendezvous nearer the castle. Tressalara’s band went with Cador. It seemed to her that the magic of the place followed them, for everywhere they went the way was smooth and safe.

  By cutting through a secret path that Cador had set the men to clearing weeks before, they reached the wooded hills near the castle quickly. Too quickly for Tressalara. This was where three final groups would part ways.

  First Cador’s men turned off the secret path and started up the ravine that would lead them to their staging point. Although she watched, Tressalara did not see him look back. One moment he was there, the next she saw only shadows. They seemed to fill her aching heart as well.

  Then it was Brand’s turn to deploy his men, while a few in costume would go with Tressalara and infiltrate the castle itself. “Godspeed, Brand. May you and your men return in safety.”

  He touched his helmet in salute to her. “May the angels and Saint Ethelred protect you. God willing, we shall meet again in the great hall at midnight, majesty.”

  He saw her lips tremble and knew the cause. Poor lass, though she would be a queen, she still felt a woman’s heartache. Although their paths would take them apart in life, he knew her feelings for the Kildoran highlander ran deep.

  “Do not fear for Cador. Though he takes every risk, he is said to be invincible in battle, as long as he carries his magical talisman with him.”

  Her heart almost stopped. “His talisman?”

  “Aye, the crystal in his sword’s hilt. It will fend off death and danger and keep him from all harm.”

  With that he rode off, leaving Tressalara to stare after him in shock. The crystal that Cador had given her, his protection from death and danger, hung cold between her breasts, like a single frozen tear.

  9

  As Niniane and Illusius watched, the block of ice that encased the great wizard Myrriden broke asunder and crashed to the rocky floor. Sparkling spirals of light shot out in all directions, and the crystals that formed the cavern walls rang like myriad bells. The two apprentices were filled with dread: What had their spells wrought this time?

  Myrriden stepped from the glittering mound of ice, scowling. “So, you young scallywamps! Broke the flask of Yann, did you?”

  His wise old eyes glanced from one to the other as if assessing their guilt. Illusius stepped forward, shielding Niniane from view. He took a deep breath. “It was I.”

  Niniane joined him, putting her hand on her companion’s sleeve. “Do not blame Illusius, Myrriden. Had I not spilled bladderwort and eye of newt everywhere, it would not have…”

  “Silence!” the wizard commanded, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “You are not the first of my apprentices to prove clumsy. Nor,” he said with a sigh, “will you be the last. But you have evidently learned to cooperate and combine forces, which is the most important lesson at every level of existence. You are now ready for your great test—whatever it might be.”

  He shook his head, and fragments of ice rained down like diamonds. During the period when he’d been frozen he had suffered the strangest dreams. They seemed to go on and on. “How much human time has passed in my absence?”

  The apprentices looked at one another guiltily and shuffled their feet. “Um…er…ah, about ten…”

  “Ten hours? A record!”

  “Um…er, not hours…”

  “Days, then?” The wizard’s shaggy white brows shot together. “By Saint Ethelred’s beard! Has it been weeks?”

  Before they could stammer out the truth, Myrriden’s gaze fell upon Niniane’s crystal globe. Earlier it had shown Tressalara approaching the old ruins; now it held the image of a glowing crystal, its natural facets forming a shape very like a dragon.

  “The Andun!” Myrriden exclaimed. He looked from Niniane to Illusius. “We will settle this later, for I see that evil had been loosed in the land. It is time for your final test. Remember—the simplest solution is usually the best!”

  He clapped his hands and uttered several mystic syllables. Niniane felt her limbs shrinking and looked down to see fine white fur growing up her arms. Illusius twitched his long black whiskers. “Now what?”

  They found themselves plunked down in a dark passageway of hollowed rock. Niniane curled her long pink tail. “Oh, rats!”

  Tressalara led her small party to the ruins of the old fortified tower that had stood for generations near the river falls. The rising wind almost muffled the sound of the water cascad
ing over the rocks. “We will hide the horses here. The entrance is nearby.”

  She stripped off her cloak, and the others did the same, revealing their own costumes, which Cador had obtained from God only knew where. One soldier wore a fool’s motley, two others the court dress of a strange and foreign land. A third had a wizard’s silver stars sewn to his dark robe and a turban set with a glittering paste jewel. The rest wore the livery of Lector’s men, taken from the soldiers they had slain.

  The castle walls enclosed many acres. There were two separate tunnels behind the entrance hidden here, part of the maze of castle escape routes that her mad great-grandfather had planned in case of siege. Who would have expected them to prove useful in a kingdom that had been at peace with its neighbors for two centuries? One led to the main courtyard in the shadow of the stables. The rebels dressed in Lector’s livery would exit there. Once inside they would subdue the guards at the entrance, then let Cador’s troops in at the main gate and Brand’s through the water gate on the river.

  The second tunnel ran deeper, to the opposite side of the huge castle complex. Those in costume, under command of Kegi’s son Zonel, would continue along it with Tressalara, with orders to infiltrate the great hall and cut off Lector before he could make good his escape. It split off near its end, with one arm running to an alcove near the minstrel’s gallery above the great hall, the other into the royal apartments that had belonged to her father. Unknown to the rest, this last was Tressalara’s true destination.

  Leading this group to a portion of ruined wall, Tressalara felt between the mortar of the giant blocks until she found the hidden pivot point. She pushed against it. The blocks held fast. She tried again and failed. Fear shot through her. The entire plan had been based on her assertion that she could get herself and these men within the walls unseen. If Lector had found the entry and barred it from the other side, Cador and Brand were doomed.