Gregory examined her face for cuts. “Are you hurt, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Eleanor, I’m so sorry,” Anne Iris said.
“I’m fine, everyone, don’t worry. It was an accident.” She wiped at her neck with a napkin as the servants scurried about cleaning up the mess. “I’ll just run into the boys’ cottage and wash before the bees smell me.”
She lifted her skirts and walked up the low hill to Walnut Cottage, the summer home of Dorian, Brian, Raoul, and for the last month or so, Christopher Roffi. She went around to the back door, hoping to find some linens and a washbowl on the porch. When she didn’t see any, she opened the door. Dorian was just clipping down the staircase in front of her.
It happened quickly, and with little fanfare. Later she would wonder what had sparked it, when there had been so many other opportunities.
Dorian paused on the third step when he saw her. She smiled, and was about to say hello, when he stepped down to the landing. He crossed the front hall in three strides. He took her firmly by the waist and pushed her backwards through a flimsy door into the broom closet. He kicked the door shut behind them, and his mouth met hers.
He was everywhere, his hands, his mouth, and she was kissing him back. He pressed her against the wall, knocking over a bucket of mops. She thrust her fingers into his hair, and heard a moan escape her lips. Months of restraint flew out the window like so many bursting soap bubbles. His hands locked on her shoulders, and their foreheads touched. She tilted her head and bit his lip. He clamped down, his fingers digging in, but it wasn’t painful. As he leaned against her she could feel his strength and his pent-up emotion.
She looked to the ceiling as his mouth moved to her chest, and down to the hem of her bodice. He ran his tongue over her bare skin, licking away the traces of sticky sweet punch. She cried out and slid down the wall. As she threw her head sideways she saw a window over her left shoulder. If anyone walked by there was no doubt they would be seen.
“Dorian,” she said. “Dorian, stop.”
He didn’t slow down. He kissed her again. She turned her head.
“We have to stop.” She tried to grab his hands, but he caught hers instead. She tugged them away and pushed at his chest, hard. “Dorian, stop!”
He pulled away from her, his chest heaving, his dark hair tousled. His eyes were vacant; the pupils dilated to pinpricks as they did when he was angry. His lips were raw and red.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have offended you.”
“No. No, you could never offend me.” She was near tears, her frustration about to boil over. “We can’t, we just can’t. Gregory is right there…if he saw us…”
Dorian’s heel struck a watering can as he stepped back. She jumped at the noise. “I have to go,” she said, and fled into the hall.
She ran up the stairs to one of the bathing rooms and examined herself in the mirror. She was flushed, but it could have been the drink. She sprinkled water on her messy hair and rubbed her face and bosom, trying to create the illusion the color was the result of a hard scrub. She peered out the window at Dorian crossing the yard. She gripped the sides of the basin.
I won’t cry, I can’t cry, not now.
When she knew she could control herself she returned to the game. Once again she assured everyone she was uninjured. She declined her turn and sat on a bench, stroking Chou Chou. After a while Gregory commented on Dorian’s silence.
“HighGod, man, you’re a gloomy one today. Why be glum? It’s a beautiful day and we’re surrounded by such lovely company.” Gregory squeezed Eleanor’s shoulder. She managed a stiff smile.
“I’m sorry, Greg,” Dorian said. “I’m not feeling well. A headache.”
“I’m sure you’re just worried about Anne Clara. You know she’ll be fine.”
“Yes, perhaps that’s it.”
Gregory crossed the playing field and stood by Dorian. “You’re planning on visiting her, correct? You should go straight there from Solsea. There’s no need to return to Maliana and then backtrack all the way to Harper’s Crossing.”
“That would be wonderful, as long as you can spare me.”
“We’ll manage without you for a few days, will we not?” They nodded and agreed like a congregation at chapel. “I give you permission to go. You may take your leave at your leisure.”
“You’re too kind,” Dorian said. “I will go now, and prepare, if it pleases you.”
Gregory nodded, and Dorian bowed and walked back to Walnut Cottage.
“Eleanor,” Gregory asked. “Are you sure you’re all right? You look pale.”
She made her reply as light as possible. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”
He knelt down in front of her. “I’ll be visiting you tonight. I want to make our last nights here at Trill as memorable as we can.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she said brightly. She wiped her eyes. “Oh, the sun is harsh today.”
Eleanor could not sleep after Gregory’s attentions, and the next morning she was exhausted. She wanted to see Dorian alone before he left, but with few people to provide a distraction she struggled for an excuse. Last night, before falling asleep himself, Gregory had told her he would not be returning to Maliana either. He had been called to the Dragon Mines, and he would head north straightaway.
“Brian and Raoul will see you back to Eclatant.”
She spent her sleepless night thinking it over, and could come to only one conclusion. The next morning at breakfast she begged Gregory to take her with him. He raised his eyebrows, his spoonful of oatmeal pausing before his mouth.
“To the Dragon Mines? Why would you want to go there?”
She smiled. “You know me. I’m curious. How can I be a true Desmarais princess if I’ve never seen a dragon or visited the most important place in the whole kingdom?”
“I don’t think my mother or any other Desmarais woman ever saw a dragon.”
“Then I’ll be the first.” Eleanor was purposely pert and positive. He liked her that way. “Please, Gregory.”
“Woman, you are hard to resist. You may come.” He put down his napkin, then stood. He wagged a finger at her and she resisted the urge to push it back in his face. “Now I don’t want any complaining, mind you. The Dragon Mines are not Eclatant.”
“I promise. I’ll be a good soldier.”
“Start packing. We leave first thing tomorrow.” He patted her hair and left the room.
She sank into her chair. While she had always been interested in the Mines, the real reason she wanted to accompany Gregory had nothing to do with dragons. He would be gone for over a month. The thought of returning to Eclatant and stewing over Dorian, only to have him arrive at the palace in advance of her husband, spelled disaster. She had to make an effort to forget Dorian and resurrect her affection for Gregory. She needed a long spell with her husband if she had any hope of success.
She handed her plate to the servant, then went to her room to give a few packing directions to Pansy.
“Chou,” she said. The parrot lifted his head from his watering bowl. He shook and his feathers stood out in stiff spikes.
“A morning wash always awakens the senses,” he said.
“Will you come to the Dragon Mines with me?”
“Dragon Mines! Cold, wet, and full of…dragons?”
She nodded.
“I can’t wait,” he said. “I’ll pack a cloak.”
She stroked his back. “Help Pansy with the packing, will you? I’m going to tell Teardrop.” She knew the mare would be excited by the prospect of a long journey. She also knew Dorian would probably be at the barn with Senné.
She found him running his hands down the black stallion’s legs, checking for soundness. She could smell the harsh protective ointment he had rubbed onto Senné’s hooves. It made her eyes water, or at least she told herself so. His back was to her, and she hesitated to disturb him. Senné did not speak. He just waved his ears.
“Dorian?”
He di
dn’t jump, and she wondered if he had indeed known she was watching him. He straightened and turned. His boots rustled the thick hay around Senné’s feet. There were pieces of it stuck to his dark blue tunic. She wanted to go to him, to pick them off, to be close enough to touch the pricks of dark scruff on his face. He hadn’t shaved since the broom closet. She held her breath until the urge passed.
“Are you packed?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re going alone?”
He nodded. “I can use the time to think.”
Best just to tell him. “I’m going to the Dragon Mines with Gregory.”
He opened his mouth, and then shut it.
“I have to go,” she said, soundlessly begging him to understand. I’m doing this for you, too.
“You’ll be gone for—”
“Six weeks.”
“Then I wish you a safe journey.”
She wanted to say more, but the conversation was ending without her permission. “And you. I will see you at Eclatant, before the Harvest Fest.”
He leaned on his unicorn. She kissed Senné’s silky muzzle. “Take care of him, Sen,” she whispered, knowing Dorian heard her. Then she fled.
Eleanor sat on Teardrop’s back in the front courtyard of Willowswatch with Chou Chou on her shoulder. The grooms and servants ran from the cottages to the carriages, their arms laden with boxes, as Trill Castle prepared for its long winter sleep. Anne Iris and Margaret had forsaken their own packing this morning. They followed Eleanor around the grounds and begged her to return to Eclatant.
“It’s far too treacherous!” Margaret gave one final appeal. She wrung her hands. “What if you’re attacked on the way? What if a dragon breathes on you and you’re burnt to a crisp?”
Christopher Roffi agreed with her. “It is not wise for a lady to be visiting such a place.”
Eleanor gave them a weary smile. “I could just as easily be burnt up leaving a candle lit in my bedroom at night.”
Anne Iris took another route. “The food will be horrible, and the company worse.”
Gregory glared at her.
“Except for you, dear cousin,” she said, “but you must admit, everyone says the miners are a frightful lot.”
Raoul added to their cautions. “It’s true you must take care, Your Highness.”
“I will, Raoul, I promise. I’ll stay away from the dragons.”
“I worry more about the miners. They don’t often see beautiful women,” Raoul said.
Gregory’s face darkened. “Enough, all of you. Don’t you think I will protect my wife?”
Their friends were full of apologies and reassurance.
“We should leave,” Gregory said. “The sun will only get hotter.”
Eleanor and Gregory, mounted on Teardrop and Vigor, led their unusually small procession. An apprentice magician by the name of Orvid Jones would ride seated behind one of five Unicorn Guards. They would stop at several estates on the journey to eat and sleep, but if they were caught in the elements Orvid could provide temporary magical shelter. They would travel light and fast, and carry few belongings. Anything else they needed would arrive later by horse-drawn carriage. Eleanor looked forward to the freedom.
She blew final goodbye kisses. Christopher Roffi strained on his tiptoes to kiss her hand. He startled Teardrop, who jigged sideways until Brian grabbed her bridle. Before they left the courtyard Gregory asked the question Eleanor wanted to ask herself.
“Smithy, has Dorian left?”
“Yes, before breakfast this morning. He left a note sending his good wishes. He must be anxious to see his sister.”
Gregory nodded. Vigor tossed his head, ready to be off.
“HighGod grant him a safe travel,” Gregory said, “and safe travel to you all!”
He grinned at Eleanor. His brown eyes were clear and sober, and his enthusiasm heartened her. He had let his hair grow this summer, and a lock slipped from behind his ear. He tucked it back. “Well, sweetheart, you asked for this journey. Let’s see what you make of it.”
“I’m waiting for you, husband,” she said, determined to return his smile.
Gregory tightened his grip on the reins with one hand and slapped Vigor’s shoulder with the other. The stallion reared, but as always Gregory had a strong seat. “That’s the spirit. Off, then!”
Chou Chou slipped into the deep pocket of Eleanor’s cloak. “Tell me when we get there,” he said.
Eleanor kicked Teardrop and they raced after her husband, out the gate and down the Cliffside Road. Vigor’s hooves sent gusts of wind and dust into Eleanor’s eyes. The Unicorn Guard pounded behind them, and within minutes Trill Castle disappeared.
PART III
CHAPTER 19
Where The Clarity Flows
Dorian pushed Senné hard and the one hundred miles between Solsea and Harper’s Crossing flew past under the unicorn’s hooves. The rocky, barren terrain of the southern cliffs gave way to rolling hills and thick forests. Most people of the Lake District made a living logging and raising sheep, but a community of Fire-iron artisans also thrived in the Crossing. The town was famous for its finely crafted jewelry, sculpture, and military equipment. The comfortable village bustled with specialty shops and small inns.
Dorian rode down Main Street. It took him nearly two hours to get through town because he had to stop and speak with old friends who recognized him and called out. He followed the road along Lake Brandling, but he didn’t stop at Floodgate Manor, his childhood home. It was late afternoon by the time he reached his sister’s house, Tavish’s Fifth, so named because there were four other mansions owned by the Tavish family on the lakeshore.
Senné could easily cover twenty miles in an hour, but a whole day of such exertion with only a few rest stops had exhausted him. Dorian offered to rub him down, but the stallion insisted Dorian leave him with the groom and go up to the house. Dorian agreed and promised to return after dinner. He said hello to Anne Clara’s old pet goat, who munched thistles in the stable yard.
“Whadja bring me?” the goat asked. It devoured the dried apples Dorian threw over the fence.
Two butlers opened the heavy silver doors as he climbed the stairs. Dorian removed his traveling cloak and gloves and handed them to the servant. His brother-in-law, Ransom, waited for him. They embraced.
“We heard you arrived in the village,” said Ransom. “Your bath is filled. When did you leave Solsea?”
“Early this morning.”
“HighGod, you must have been flying. I’ll send some extra grain down for Senné. The poor lad must be worn out.”
“Thank you,” Dorian said. “He deserves a good meal and a long rest. If he were a man I would say offer him a stiff drink.”
“Ah, but if he were a man he would have fallen by the wayside,” said Ransom.
“Where is Anne Clara?”
“She’s resting in her bedroom. The witches have advised her to stay off her feet if she can. She said she’s sorry she can’t meet you, but she wants to join us for dinner.”
“Really.” This bit of information, so calmly given, worried Dorian. “Just give me a few minutes to change and I’ll be down.”
He hurried through his bath, and met Ransom and Anne Clara in the dining room with damp hair. With her bright eyes and good color she looked better than he had expected, but she could barely reach the table in front of her. Her yellow dress made her seem like a ball of sunshine come to dinner.
She teased him. “Brother, don’t look at me so, as if you’re afraid I might explode.”
“I’m sorry, darling, but I can’t help it. It must be painful.” He kissed her cheek.
“It is uncomfortable at this stage, but what do the witches say? The bigger your belly, the more pain you’re willing to suffer to get the baby out.”
Dorian did not appreciate the humor. He hated the thought of his sister in agony, pushing and heaving. He loved his nieces and nephew, but he wished she would take a break.
/> “The children are excited to see you,” she said, as if reading his mind. “We had a time getting them in bed. They will abuse you soundly tomorrow.”
“Then I, too, should be in bed early.” Over fresh lake flounder and summer squash he listened half-heartedly to Anne Clara and Ransom’s updates on the goings on in Harper’s Crossing. He was about to excuse himself after dessert but Ransom beat him to it.
“Well, that was a lovely meal, but I think I’ll turn in. The children will be up early, and I know you two want to catch up.”
“We’ll sit and talk a while, won’t we, Dor?”
Dorian leaned back, eyeing his sister. She knew him too well, and got to the point as soon as Ransom left the room.
“What’s the matter? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so tired. And don’t blame it on the ride.”
Dorian buried his hands in his hair, and then scraped them down his face. “You know what it is.”
“Eleanor.”
“I don’t know what to do, Anne Clara.”
“Tell me.”
“I feel like I’m going mad. It gets worse every day.”
“How so?”
“The more I’m with her, the more I…” He had never said it aloud. “The more I love her.”
Once it was out he couldn’t stop. “She’s everything I didn’t know I needed. I wake up each morning and promise to keep my distance, and then I see her and do just the opposite. I’m terrified I’m putting her at risk, but I can’t stay away from her.”
“I thought you felt better about it after my visit to court last spring,” Anne Clara said.
The Cracked Slipper Page 20