by Nora Roberts
She tried once more, this time putting her shoulder to the stone. It groaned and swung inward. A blast of dank, musty air blew past them, like the breath of some monstrous subterranean creature. Fanglike stalactites hung down from the passageway.
“Follow closely,” she warned. “Beneath the castle is a maze of tunnels and natural caves. Many are built to turn back upon themselves. Others are blind ends to trick and isolate any enemy who might penetrate them. If you become lost, your bones might be found a hundred years from now.”
The men huddled closer. If they had any doubts about following the princess into the hellish maze, they didn’t speak them aloud. “From here on,” she said, “there must be complete silence among us.”
Zonel nodded and followed her into the black maw with his men, shivering as the block of stone fell back into place behind them. Their unquestioning trust buoyed her up as the darkness engulfed them. Water dripped slowly, echoing through the corridors hewn from living rock.
Tressalara struck a flint. The spark bloomed to flame in the cobwebbed lantern set into a niche. A film of crystals frosted the stone walls, attesting to their great age. Two small creatures, furry and sleek with long pink tails, squeaked and scurried into the darkness ahead. One was white, the other black.
After lighting the tapers that Zonel had brought for each of them, she led on. The way was mossy underfoot, where water had dripped from the rocky ceiling. With every step she wondered if she had made a grave error of judgment and if her stubbornness would prove to be Cador’s death sentence. The die was cast. She could only go forward with their plan and pray to God that he might come through unscathed. The alternative was unthinkable. Tressalara shivered. A victory without Cador would save her kingdom, but it would shatter her heart. She would never love any man but Cador, so long as she lived.
At the first branching of the tunnels, the rebels in Lector’s livery turned off on their mission. When she finally reached the second branching with the costumed group, Tressalara stopped. “That will lead you to your destination. Our ways part here. You will continue on to the minstrel’s gallery without me, and I will rejoin you in the great hall. Take no action of your own, but await my signal.”
“But…majesty!” Zonel protested.
She stopped him with a look. “There is no need for me to accompany you further. You have your orders from Cador. Meanwhile, I have other matters to which I must attend.”
Zonel could only watch helplessly as the woman he was sworn to protect and defend vanished in the opposite direction. If his royal mistress came to any harm and he himself survived, Cador would roast his liver on a spit!
Lector sat alone on the dais in the great hall, watching the revelry unfold around him. The huge rubies in the eyes of the dragon’s head carved upon the back of the thronelike chair winked as if they were alive. A servant filled his emerald-studded goblet with more wine, and he lifted it for a drink. The waiting had stretched his nerves like wires. He could feel them like sharp prickles beneath his skin. All the years of planning and scheming had come down to this moment. If Rill’s plot succeeded, it would be a moment of great personal triumph. If not…
Then Rill brushed aside the curtain at the side of the dais and joined him. “All is well, my lord,” the magician purred. “The fair little mouse you wished to lure to your hand has taken the bait!”
Setting down his goblet, Lector rose. “Excellent work, Rill. I shall spring the trap myself.”
Tressalara made her way along the passage quietly. Two more turns to the right and she should be in the space between the castle’s outer wall and the royal apartments. Ahead, a small ray of light pierced the darkness, and she smiled. She had not forgotten her way through the rocky maze. That light was a peephole into the corridor. She peered through it.
In the smoking red glare of torchlight, two guards flanked the door that led into her late father’s quarters. She moved softly down the hidden passage in search of a second peephole that looked into the apartment’s central chamber. It was usually closed off for privacy by an embossed medallion on the other side, but she caught a glimmer of light, showing it was unblocked. She was almost afraid to look through it to see Lector’s things in place of her father’s, to let grief and other emotions cloud her judgment.
When she steeled her courage, she was startled to discover that nothing had changed. The famous battle sword of King Varro I hung from the wall between the tall casements, as it had for two centuries. The same tapestries of lords and ladies a-hunting still hung upon the walls. The same two high-backed chairs, carved with the royal arms of Amelonia, were pulled up to the table where she and her father had once played at games of wit and strategy. A pang of longing for simpler, happier times smote her to the core.
But she must not dwell on the past when her country’s future was at stake. Sliding the well-oiled latch aside, Tressalara stepped into the chamber. Unseen, two sleek rats slipped past her booted ankles and wiggled their way into a rolled-up rug along the wall. Two pairs of bright button eyes watched the princess from the safety of their hiding place.
The panel slid closed noiselessly behind Tressalara. Without pausing, she went straight to the hearth. The dragon symbol of the royal house was carved deeply into the central stone block of the fireplace. She traced a finger lightly over the shape, as she had seen her father do, then reached just inside the mouth of the opening and touched a minute lever hidden there. The stone block slid outward with a faint groan.
She hadn’t expected it to be so heavy! It took all her strength to remove it. Dropping it would surely alert the guards outside the door. Tressalara set the block down upon the tabletop, then returned to the gaping hole. Pushing back her sleeve, she reached inside.
A sudden sound alerted her that she was no longer alone. She whipped around to find Lector standing in the open chamber door with several men-at-arms behind him. “Well met, Tressalara.” He stepped aside to let the guard enter. “Seize her!”
Tressalara went for her dagger but was hampered by the flowing sleeves of her tunic. She had completely forgotten how much they restricted her freedom of movement. Before she could extricate the weapon, one of the guards pounced. As he pinned her arms, one of his comrades relieved her of the dagger.
Lector held out his hand for it. “A pretty toy. Suitable for a pretty woman.” He came forward, smiling at her consternation. Lifting her dagger, he pressed its tip lightly against her cheek. “Perhaps not so pretty when I have finished.”
Tressalara tried not to flinch when the point stung her skin. Lector laughed. “You have always been proud, Tressalara. Too much so for your own good. Did you think you were the only one to know of mad King Gilmere’s secrets? Foolish girl!”
He stepped back and moved to the aperture above the hearth. “The only one I didn’t know was where the Andun Crystal was kept. And now, fair Tressalara, you have led me straight to it!”
10
Lector thrust his hand into the dark opening. His look of triumph changed to puzzlement. He leaned further in, up to his elbow, and felt around hurriedly.
“Empty!” he roared. For his troubles he had nothing but a scraped and bloody knuckle. He started toward Tressalara with murder in his face, but Rill intervened.
“My lord, your disappointment clouds your judgment! You will need the girl a while longer. Then you may do with her as you please.”
The fire went out of Lector’s eyes. “You are right. But what could Varro have done with it? Damn his soul to hell!”
His curse angered Tressalara more than his threat. Fear for Cador and his men gave her sudden strength. She struggled against her captors and almost broke free.
Lector grabbed her arms bruisingly. She expected to be shaken or thrown to the floor. Instead, he pressed a moist kiss upon her unwilling mouth. Although she tried, she could not twist her head to avoid it. When Lector had proved his point, he laughed, his humor restored. There was something about subjugating an unwilling woman that made the p
rize all the sweeter.
He released her. “Use your wiles on the wench, Rill. She was in her father’s confidence. There must be other secret panels we have not yet discovered.”
Rill stepped forward, holding his shard of the Andun aloft. Tressalara recognized it at once. “So that is how you murdered my father and overthrew the guards! Black magic.” A small, cold smile curved her lips. “A warning, my lords: It is said that those who use the Andun Stone for ill will suffer tenfold for their disrespect.”
“It is you who will suffer, and those foolish rebels skulking through the Mystic Forest, with an outlawed Kildoran at their head. When I find them I will crush them beneath my heel. Cador’s head shall sit on a pike over the castle gates.”
Hope flooded Tressalara’s chest. They had been expecting only her, not Cador and his troops. They must have set a guard only on the last half of the tunnel, rather than at its beginning. Perhaps they hadn’t even found the particular entrance she had taken. If she used her wits, they might still come out of this alive.
The magician wove a pattern in the air with the shard. A buzzing filled Tressalara’s head. Her limbs became heavier than stone. Sound retreated, and time slowed. She felt herself shrinking to a drop of ice far in the back of her brain.
One voice seemed to fill the universe: “Hear me, Tressalara, and obey. Do you know of another place where your father might have hidden the mighty Andun Stone?”
Against her will, she found her mouth opening to speak. It was impossible to resist. “Yes…”
Rill sent Lector a glance. “You see, even the princess must respond to the power in this small shard, although it works only at close quarters. Imagine what I…what you will be able to do with both my shard and the Andun Stone in your control!”
Lector was filled with admiration. Perhaps he would not dispose of Tressalara, but keep her on as his queen: subdued to a sweet, kittenlike helplessness by day, released from the spell at night to become a spitting hellcat in his bed. The idea held great appeal.
Once more Rill wove a pattern through the air and addressed the captive princess. “Tell me where I may find this hiding place.”
Again she struggled mightily. The crystal that Cador had given her warmed against her skin. It seemed to fill her whole body with heat and light. “There are many…places where it might be. Perhaps…two dozen or more. Someare difficult to explain…. I must show you…”
Lector cursed. “Two dozen! We cannot spare the time to search out the Andun Stone now!”
“There is no need.” Rill leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Remember the duplicate I had made. No one will be able to tell the difference. Shall I bring it to the great hall?”
“Yes.” Lector relaxed, and the anger oozed out of him. “I was forgetting your wise precautions. You shall be rewarded handsomely for your services, Rill.”
The sorcerer hid his smile. He had his own ideas as to what constituted a suitable reward, and he was sure it was far greater than Lector imagined. He stepped toward the door and almost tripped over a rolled-up rug. Giving it a kick, he nodded, and the soldiers opened the door.
Niniane and Illusius rolled over as the rug hit the wall, pink-clawed feet waving futilely in the air. “It’s our tails,” the young wizard told the sorceress. “We’re just not used to them.”
After a few false starts they got the hang of curling their tails exactly right and flipped back on their feet. “The princess! We must follow her!” They shot out of the rug and into the corridor, where they vanished into the shadows just before the door shut behind them.
Lector and Rill led Tressalara away from the royal apartments. The soldiers followed. There was no need for them to restrain her now that she was under the spell: Anyone seeing her walking docilely between them would imagine that the princess was there of her own free will.
Cador waited impatiently for the signal from the east tower. A cool wind sprang up, and the crescent moon flirted from behind veils of cloud. It was long past time.
According to the plan, those infiltrating the feast were to make sure that Lector and Rill were cut off from escape, while Tressalara was hidden safely away in the minstrel’s gallery until after the melee. If the guests inside were still loyal to the house of Varro, they would raise their swords in the rebel’s cause. But those in stolen uniforms should have overcome the gate guards and raised the portcullis by now. He should have never let Tressalara place herself in such danger! His trust in her abilities had affected his judgment.
“Something is wrong,” he said to his second-in-command. “We should have been inside an hour ago.”
Before the other man could reply, the side door of the massive gatehouse opened and a lone figure stole out. Cador recognized him by his way of moving.
Using the shadows, the man vanished from view for several minutes, only to reappear nearby.
“What news?” Cador demanded. “Have all your comrades been seized?”
“Nay,” the soldier said, heaving a great sigh. “Only the princess.”
A terrible pain ripped through Cador, and a black rage came over him. “I swear by all that is holy, I will free Tressalara or die!”
When he fell, it would be with her name on his lips and her beloved face engraved upon his heart.
11
For the first time in many weeks, Tressalara mounted the steps to her tower chamber. Lector ordered the door unbarred, and she started to pass through. He took her arm and entered with her.
“I do not put all my faith in Rill’s spells, Tressalara. You escaped me once. You shall not do so again.”
She looked up at him with her wide, amethyst eyes. “As you will, my lord.”
Elani gasped when she recognized her princess and got up from the divan, where she and Lady Grette had been sitting over a game board. “Your highness!” She started toward Tressalara, then stopped at the blank expression on the princess’s face and turned to Lector fearfully. “She is spellbound! Oh, what have you done to her?”
“Watch your tongue, wench! I bring you your royal mistress. Prepare her for a feast.”
The two women dropped deep curtsies to Tressalara, pointedly ignoring Lector. His face darkened at the slight. “Tomorrow when I hold the Andun Crystal in my hand as I accept the crown, you will bend your knees to me, or you will keep your appointment on the scaffold. Now array the princess as befits my future bride.”
Lady Grette gave him a look of disdain. “When you have left the chamber.”
He laughed harshly. “There is nothing of the princess that I will not see when she shares my bed this night. If it offends your womanly modesty, however, she may dress behind that copper screen. While I await here.”
Tressalara walked slowly toward the hammered-metal screen. “The sapphire silk gown with the dragon belt and collar will be appropriate,” she told Grette in a high, flat voice. “The matching cape as well.”
She and Elani disappeared behind the screen while Lady Grette opened the wardrobe containing the princess’s special robes of state. Her soft hand smoothed out the brilliant blue silk, fluffed out the bodice and sleeves smocked with hundreds of rosy pearls. The long cape was lined with rose satin and bordered with ermine. They had never been worn before.
Tears misted Lady Grette’s eyes. This was the gown she had sewn with her own hands, for the day when Tressalara reached her majority. At next year’s summer solstice, King Varro was to have handed his daughter the Andun Crystal and named her his official successor to the throne. The noblewoman held back a sob. She would rather see it rent to pieces than used on such a sorry occasion.
Grette opened and shut chests, removing garments of the finest embroidered linen and a silk undergown so delicately spun that it could be drawn through a lady’s signet ring. There was a delay when the right slippers could not be found.
Lector grew impatient. “If the princess is not ready, she may accompany me in her shift, for all I care.”
“One moment,” Grette said, liftin
g a golden chain from a jeweled coffer. She selected a collar as well, and disappeared behind the screen, chattering nervously about whether pearl or sapphire earrings would be more suitable.
At last Tressalara stepped out, resplendent in yards of shimmery blue, embroidered with gold thread and pearls. She looked magnificent with the queen’s gold and sapphire dragon collar at her throat and the matching queen’s coronet upon her brow. The light from the fireplace gilded her skin and her long, shining hair, rippling to her waist.
Even jaded Lector was struck dumb by her beauty. He felt a tightening in his loins. All this, and a kingdom to go with it! Truly this was his destiny. He held out his hand. “Come, Tressalara. Our guests are waiting.”
She lifted her chin. “My ladies must accompany me to give dignity to the occasion, my lord.”
He was too pleased with events to argue, and it would look better to the visiting dignitaries. “Very well.”
They traversed the upper corridors and descended the wide, curving stone staircase, past the darkened stained-glass windows and the bright banners of Amelonia’s previous rulers. Already Lector had added his scorpion insignia to their ranks. Light from the blazing torches turned the silver threads to the color of fresh blood.
As they paused at the head of the stairs, the trumpeter sounded a fanfare. Taking Tressalara by the hand, Lector led her through the stunned assemblage to the dais. Tressalara felt curiously numb and distanced from her surroundings, yet her heart turned over when she saw the simple wooden box upon the table. Rill was very thorough.
Lector stood and raised her hand. His words were like a distant, mocking echo of Cador’s earlier ones in the rebel camp: “Behold the crown princess of Amelonia, soon to be my wife.”
A gasp went up from the crowd. Those who had put their faith in her were dismayed. If she had thrown her lot in with Lord Lector, then hope for the brewing rebellion was lost.