“Is he still trying to discover Cadmaran’s whereabouts?”
He nodded. “Aye, but with no luck yet. Even Malachi doesn’t know where he is, though my cousin Ceridwen is safe, regardless. Malachi’s striving to get her wed to the man she’s betrothed to, and once they’re married there will be nothing Cadmaran can do. She’ll be protected by a magic that he has no power against.”
“Truly?” she asked, clearly surprised by this. “There are obviously many exceptions to magic that I know nothing about. But if marriage is the simple answer, then why should that be so difficult to arrange? Surely the earl of Graymar can procure a special license with ease.”
“When someone in a magical family wishes to marry,” he said, moving back to sit beside her, “they must first seek permission of what we call ‘elders’—not because they’re aged, but because they have attained great wisdom—who are selected from each of the families in our union. Especially when the proposed spouse is a mere mortal. Well,” he amended thoughtfully, “I suppose that’s not entirely true. Morcar Cadmaran asked for Ceridwen’s hand in marriage and that was the most hotly contested proposal in family history, or so I hear tell. I don’t know why it’s taking so long for them to decide about Colonel Spar and Ceridwen. He’s exactly the sort of sympathetic mortal that we need in the family.”
“Colonel Adam Spar?” Julia asked, straightening. “He’s to wed your cousin?”
“Do you know him?”
She laughed merrily. “Oh, indeed, I do. The poor fellow made the mistake of taking pity on me five seasons ago and asking me to dance. My family immediately tried to force him into marrying me, and he felt so sorry for me that I think he would have done it if I hadn’t scolded him for giving way to them.” She sighed at the memory. “He was a fine and handsome gentleman and I was so grateful for his kindness.” She smiled up into Niclas’s now scowling face. “I’m so glad he’s to wed your cousin. She’s a fortunate woman, and you must like him, too, knowing the kind of man he is. He’ll be very good to her.”
“I did like him,” Niclas muttered irately. “I hate him now. I hate every man who ever danced with you, or smiled at you. Or even looked at you back then.”
Julia didn’t appear to be alarmed by his anger; she raised a hand and set it upon his chest.
“Don’t be foolish,” she chided gently. “They cared nothing for such a little mouse, and I cared nothing for them.”
“It should have been me,” he said, not even knowing how to tell her what he felt. She had been there, for years, and he’d never known. It was as if he’d missed the most important thing in his life, never even aware of her. “It should have been me,” he said again, and then, without considering whether it was wise or right, he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her.
It was impossible to be gentle when he was filled with such anger and desperation, but she murmured against his seeking lips and gentled him by degrees, fitting into the crook of the arm that was lashed about her and sliding her own arm about his neck.
His lips were just parting over her own when they heard Kian shouting.
“Hey, Niclas! Stop that! Let Miss Linley breathe for a moment, will you?”
Niclas made a growling sound and lifted his head. Julia laughed, and they both looked to see Kian standing not far off.
“He’s heartless, that boy,” he muttered. “I shall make him rue the day he was born.”
To Kian he called, irately, “What is it?”
“Steffan’s just arrived! He bears good tidings from Malachi.”
Niclas was dragging Julia in the direction of the gate before Kian had finished speaking.
“What’s happened?” he demanded sharply. “Is Ceridwen—”
“She’s fine,” Kian said happily. “She and Colonel Spar were married last night.”
“So soon?” Niclas said, surprised. “How on earth did Malachi manage to convince the elders so quickly?” The relief he felt was mixed with a sense of dread. The precious time he’d hoped to have with Julia was suddenly fading.
“Is she safe, then?” Julia asked.
“Aye, as safe as she can possibly be,” Kian answered. “Cadmaran can’t touch her now. And Colonel Spar is safe, as well. To harm either of them would cause Lord Llew to lose many of his powers, and he won’t chance that.”
“Where has the earl of Llew gone, then?” Niclas asked. “Is he yet in London? Or does he come here, seeking revenge?”
“Steffan reports that he’s merely begun his journey back to Castle Llew. It would do him no good to visit revenge on you now, Niclas, for he has nothing to gain and much to lose. Ceridwen is lost to him completely, now that she’s wed. It’s likely he’s going home to lick his wounds. He’ll give us no further trouble.” He looked from one to the other, smiling his rare smile. “You’re safe, now, Miss Linley,” he said, and offered her his arm to escort her back into the castle. “We shall have much to celebrate at the feast this evening.”
Fifteen
The rain had started not long after the feast ended. It put Niclas in mind of the night when he and Julia had escaped Cadmaran in Shrewsbury and made their way across the border to Wales. Enoch had safely carried them to Arionrhod’s dwelling, and Julia had slept in Niclas’s arms, warm and softly feminine, wrapped in his heavy coat.
A gust of cold, damp wind blew in through the tall open window where Niclas stood, ruffling the edges of his hair and chilling the flesh where his unbuttoned shirt lay open.
The chamber behind him was dark. He’d sent Abercraf to bed without letting him light a fire, then had blown out all the candles and lamps so that the atmosphere would match his mood. He had meant to go out riding, but the rain had put an end to his plans. It was one thing to force a beast out into such weather when it was absolutely necessary, but quite another to ask the creature to endure the same merely because a man wished to exhaust himself beyond all pain.
Lightning briefly lit the sky as well as the valley below, where the lights of Glen Aur twinkled merrily against the night’s black cover. He hoped that Julia saw it from her window, as well. It would make a pretty memory to take home to London.
Tomorrow, if the rain stopped, they would begin their journey back. She was fully recovered from her visit to the spirit realm, and they were safe from Cadmaran. More importantly, there was nothing for them to accomplish here between her aunt and his uncle, and thus no reason to delay the return. The sooner he had her home again, the better. What he would do after that, Niclas wasn’t yet sure.
The curse would not be lifted, and because of that, he could not allow himself to see her again once they were in London. And as he knew very well that he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her if she was anywhere within hundreds of miles of his reach, Niclas had to either go far, far away, or find another solution.
The wind blew again, harder this time, so that rain swept inside the window to briefly shower both him and the floor. Niclas closed his eyes and wished the cold of the night might freeze him right through. Freeze away every thought, every feeling.
She’d been happy tonight. That’s what he would think on. The grand feast that Ffinian and his untamed sons had given in Julia’s honor. Niclas smiled just remembering.
It had been typical of the wild celebrations to be found at Castle Tylluan. There had been music and laughter and dancing and a bounty of fine food and drink. Ffinian had been his jovial, mad self, entertaining Julia, the guest of honor, with his tall tales and bawdy jokes, while Steffan, Kian, and Dyfed had taken turns regaling her with a Seymour family history that almost had Niclas blushing.
She had laughed with real pleasure and thoroughly enjoyed herself, and Niclas had been relieved by her happy acceptance of his strange—but admittedly entertaining—family. There were few mere mortal women of his acquaintance who wouldn’t have run screaming out the doors, but Julia, perhaps because of the Tarian, perhaps because of her recent experiences with magic, or perhaps because she was simply Julia, clearly had no troub
le at all in the discovery of such people.
But then the celebration had changed, just as it always did after a few hours of drinking, and what had been entertaining became rather more dangerous.
Many of Ffinian’s and some of Steffan’s men were lesser wizards, and, though none possessed remarkable skills, some were capable of the common magic of levitating objects. Along with Kian, these men had devised a game that involved flying objects striking various other objects or places in the great hall for different points. A fork knocking down an empty bottle of wine was two points. A salt cellar striking a candlestick was five points. A spoon hitting the nose on a fading face in an old tapestry hanging upon the far wall was ten points. This alone was enough to make Niclas nervous, for any innocent individual might accidentally be struck by so many flying objects.
But then, as usual, it got worse.
Whoever could float a napkin the closest to a candle flame without it catching fire won twenty points, with the result that numerous cloths caught fire and sent small bits of glowing ash about the hall. After being obliged to pour a pitcher of water on a smoking curtain, Loris thankfully put an end to that particular aspect of the sport.
But that didn’t dim the gamesters’ spirits. Kian, half-drunk and more than a little angry at what he viewed as Loris’s attempt to spoil their pleasure, jumped up on one of the tables and, ignoring Dyfed’s pleas to get down, challenged the men to strike him with any object they could levitate.
Niclas had hurriedly grabbed Julia and moved her away from the table and to the other side of the hall, ducking as everything from plates to lamps began flying.
Loris remonstrated, Niclas remonstrated, and Dyfed made yet another attempt, but it was to no avail. Ffinian pounded gleefully on the table with a fist and Steffan clapped in time as Kian leaped and jumped out of harm’s way, dancing up and down the length of the table, kicking food and platters and cups and pitchers out of his way and deflecting objects with both magic and athletic skill. Steffan’s men, who had brought their instruments along, struck up a lively tune and raucous shouting and laughter filled the hall as the game grew increasingly fast and furious.
“Good heavens,” Julia murmured, staring wide-eyed at the spectacle. “They’re flinging knives at him. Are you sure he won’t be hurt?”
“No, I’m not,” Niclas said, dragging her down under the cover of a side table as a piece of crockery smashed against the wall above their heads. “But I’m going to make sure we aren’t.”
“Please tell me this isn’t for my benefit alone,” she said, burrowing close as Niclas’s arms folded about her and a large silver platter struck the wall.
“No, this is what happens at every celebratory feast, I’m afraid. Loris will put a stop to it in a moment.”
“Loris?” Julia said with disbelief.
“She’s the only one who can. I’ve tried before, believe me, but it only makes them worse. Even Malachi can’t make them stop unless it’s by force, and we always pay for it later when Kian and Dyfed are in London. Look, she’s had enough. She’s going to stop them now.”
He felt Julia lift her head just enough to watch as Loris made her way across the great hall, walking directly toward the table where Kian yet performed his skillful dance. She showed no fear of the objects flying in all directions, and deftly ducked and sidestepped as she made her way. At last, Kian saw Loris coming, and he fell still, breathing heavily with the exertion of the game. His smile and laughter died away and his expression, as he gazed at Loris, tightened. Reaching out a single hand, he brought the movement of all objects to a halt, so that those which were in midair fell harmlessly to the ground. Loris came to stand before him, placing her hands on her hips and meeting Kian’s angry gaze with her own.
“Now, darling Loris,” Ffinian said placatingly, still sitting in his place at the head of the long table. “We were only having a bit of fun.”
“You’ve had your fun,” she said, “as usual. And you’ve made a mess, as usual. And, as usual”—she turned her gaze to Ffinian—“you’ve broken that which we can’t afford to replace. If this goes on we’ll have nothing left to eat or drink with but our bare hands.”
“Don’t fret over a bit of broken crockery, dearest girl,” Ffinian replied, failing miserably at looking contrite. “Once I’ve wed my dear Lady Alice we’ll have plates of gold to dine upon. There’s no need to be in such a taking.”
“Loris is always in a taking, tad,” Kian said, jumping lightly from the table to stand before her. Loris was tall for a female, yet she was obliged to tilt her head up to hold his gaze. “Are you not, darling Loris?”
“Not always,” she replied evenly. “But if this mess isn’t cleared away before the hour is out I shall be in a taking such as no Welshman has ever before seen.”
The cleaning of the hall had immediately begun. Ffinian invited those guests who weren’t involved in the chore to join him in the library, where he would no doubt continue drinking until he was too weary to go on. Steffan had readily accepted, but Julia, realizing that the presence of a lady would only dull the men’s fun, had pleaded weariness. Tendering her good-nights, she had climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. Niclas had stayed with his cousins and uncle for two glasses of whisky, then had ignored their drunken insistences that he stay and excused himself. That had been three hours past, and the castle had grown quiet and dark, all those occupants who weren’t on duty as guards having sought their beds.
It was a good night for sleeping, Niclas thought as yet another flash of lightning lit the sky. Cold, stormy nights always made a bed seem warmer, and a pillow softer. He glanced at the large, comfortable bed in the chamber. Abercraf had pulled the covers back and made it ready in case Niclas wished to lie down and rest. It was a game they played out every night, a way to maintain a semblance of normalcy. There had been a time when Niclas had thought it a good idea, a hope for the day when it would no longer be a farce. Now he could only view it with despair.
Sighing, he turned his gaze back out the open window.
It was going to be a long night, but at least he had the storm for company.
Julia shivered as she made her way down the dark hallway, the flame of her candle flickering in the chilly breeze that whistled its way in through the little cracks in the castle walls. The fire in her room had managed to keep her warm even after the storm began and the air grew colder, but the castle halls felt like the inside of a cave. The discomfort would be short-lived, though, once she found Niclas’s chamber.
She thought, when she first pushed the heavy door open, that she had made a mistake. Loris must have been confused when she’d told her Niclas was using this room, for it was as cold as the hallway and completely dark. Julia very nearly went back out at once, pulling the door to shut it, but the sound of the rain and wind blowing through the chamber’s open window made her stop.
She stepped back in and stood quietly, waiting. A flash of light from the storm revealed Niclas’s tall form, and she shut the door behind her, then turned to throw the bolt.
He said nothing as she came near, clutching the shawl she’d thrown over her gown tightly about her neck and lifting the candle a bit higher to find her way.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly, his face only partly illumined by the flickering candlelight.
“Why don’t you have a fire?” she asked. “It’s freezing in here. You’ll catch a chill.”
He made a movement toward her, saying, stiffly, “Let me take you back to your room,” but she stepped back.
“No, Niclas. I’ve come to speak with you, . . . and and I don’t plan to leave, even after that.” She swallowed against the nervousness that trembled in her voice.
He stood where he was, silent. The fitful wind gusted, making the open window rattle and droplets of rain splatter on to the floor and walls—and on Niclas, as well. Julia shivered, and as her eyes grew used to the darkness, she could see that he wasn’t wearing a jacket. Worse, the buttons of his shirt wer
e undone, revealing the skin beneath.
“What are you doing?” she asked, feeling slightly aggravated. “You can’t possibly be comfortable.”
He shrugged. “I find it refreshing. What did you come to speak with me about so late at night? I imagined you long asleep by now.”
“I was, for an hour or so,” she confessed. “But then something woke me.”
He looked at her curiously. “What?”
“A question,” she said. “Or perhaps a realization. I should have known after you explained everything to me this afternoon, but my mind has been occupied with other matters. Niclas—” She moved closer, and the wind blew out her candle. “Please tell me. Has a curse been laid on you? A blood curse?”
She could scarcely make out his features without the help of the candle, but she both felt and heard the quiet sigh he gave.
“Stay here,” he murmured, and took the candlestick out of her hand. He walked away and she heard a great deal of cloth rustling from the direction of the enormous bed that sat in the middle of the room. When he returned he enfolded Julia in a soft, heavy blanket, then drew her into his arms and settled again in front of the open window.
“Look,” he said, cradling her so that her head rested upon his chest. “You can see the lights of Glen Aur from here, even in the storm.”
Her shivering began to lessen in the blanket’s comforting warmth. She could feel the strength of the arms lashed about her, and the gentleness, as well.
Cold air stung her cheeks as she looked to where he pointed. In the valley below the lights of Glen Aur twinkled invitingly, and she thought of her aunt there, safe and sleeping.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “My aunt has asked me to stay with her through the rest of the Season. And the summer, as well.”
“Has she?” he asked, a touch of surprise in his tone. “Perhaps that would be best.”
She swallowed again, harder this time. “Do you think so, Niclas?”
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