Dark One's Bride

by Aldrea Alien

  Sighing, Lucias pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand what you’re trying to accomplish, dear, I do. And that is partially why I fell for you. However…” He lowered his hand and his eyebrows knotted together. “You cannot take in every homeless child you stumble across.”

  “If the Great Lord will not help them, then who else will?” she countered. True, she’d not given the idea thorough consideration, but nor could she see any reason to turn away and continue to let these children roam the streets rather than take them under her wing. “The Citadel’s big enough to house hundreds of men. Seven children would hardly be underfoot.” Especially once settled in enough to be given tasks, whether that be in the form of schooling or apprenticeships.

  Lucias folded his arms. His brows grew tighter together, almost fully merging into one. “The Citadel’s that size because it’s designed as a fortified building to hold and protect the Great Lord, not as a nursery.”

  “Of course it is.” She clasped his arm. “But what about when our baby comes? Children deserve to be around other children. Our son will be all alone in such a big place. With them around, to play with him, to protect him, our son can just be a child.”

  Slowly, those dark brows unknotted as she spoke. “Clara,” Lucias breathed. His gaze flicked to the children and he shook his head. “Look, I didn’t mind you having Tommy, the boy is a quick learner and he is more than fit enough to work as your page but—”

  Clara tightened her grip on his arm. She was not leaving these children behind to fend for themselves. “You’ve been saying for months of how you want to train Tommy to be your new stable master. It wouldn’t take long for—” Without a thought to her actions, she whirled to face the children, taking in their bewildered expressions before her gaze settled on the oldest girl. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

  “Yes,” the girl replied. “That’s what my brother called me.”

  “Your name is Sweetie?” Clara repeated, not sure whether she’d misunderstood or the girl had.

  The girl nodded.

  Her brother named her? She ran a critical eye over the other boys. None beyond Derek seemed older than the girl. Was that another family member she’d also lost? Just how long had these poor souls been without the basics of life?

  No more. She stood behind Sweetie and clasped the girl’s slender shoulders. A glance at Lucias’ face spoke of crumbling defences. One more precise blow should get them to fall. “I could train Sweetie here to be my new page. It wouldn’t take long and you’d have your stable master.”

  A small smile tweaked his lips. Lucias shook his head. “All right, I concede. Bring the girl along and—”

  “No.” Sweetie jerked out of Clara’s grasp and planted herself before Derek with all the tenacity of a mother cat guarding her kittens. She crossed her arms, holding them tightly across her little chest. “I’m not leaving without my brother.”

  Clara opened her mouth, prepared to declare how implausible it was for them to be related, for the girl’s skin was far too pale, but now she saw them side-by-side, there was a stark similarity in their features. The shape of their jaws, their mouths, the darkness of their eyes.

  And the girl wasn’t just pale in skin. What Clara had first taken as blonde hair actually bordered on white.

  “And if you’re taking my brother and me, then you take all of us,” the girl continued. “We go together or not at all.”

  “Sweetie!” Derek said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Judging by the way he eyed Lucias and Clara, this wasn’t the first time his sister had spoken her mind so brazenly. “You can’t just— I’m so sorry, my lord, she—”

  A burst of laughter erupted from Lucias and halted the boy’s tongue.

  Clara whipped her head around to find her betrothed leaning against his horse, his mouth split wide in a grin. Just what had he found so amusing?

  “I see why you’re so keen to adopt them,” Lucias wheezed between bouts of chuckling. “It’s like seeing a miniature of you.” He bowed low in Sweetie’s direction. “Do you have any other demands, little lady? Or is having all seven of you safe under the protection of the Great Lord a satisfactory alternative to sleeping on the streets?”

  Clara clapped her hands together. “Really?” Only the wet tightness of her throat stopped the word from coming out as anything but a squeal. “All of them?”

  “I can’t very well break up a family, now can I?” He waggled a finger at her. “But be warned, Miss Weaver, I will not be so easily swayed a third time. You’ll have your hands full enough with this lot.”

  She bowed her head, still not quite able to control her smile. Whilst she wasn’t quite so sure about Lucias’ stance on not adopting more orphaned children should she press, if her time as an unpaid babysitter had taught her anything, it was that seven children would definitely be tough to wrangle. “I promise.”

  “Of course, taking them to the castle ourselves will cut your tour of the city short,” he grumbled half-heartedly.

  Clara bit her lip, trying to keep the brief spike of disappointment from her face. Yes, taking these children in would mean missing out on seeing the Pillars up close. “There will be other days,” she said, partly to herself. It wasn’t as if Endlight or her Pillars were going to vanish anytime soon. “Or we could see the children safely to the castle and continue on?”

  Lucias screwed up his nose as if he’d taken a whiff of something left for dead in an alley. She guessed that particular thought had already occurred to him before he’d opened his mouth. “Thad will have gotten word that we’re missing from within the castle walls by now. If we go near the castle, we won’t be leaving without a fully armoured escort.”

  Clara grunted. Having a bunch of armed men encircling her and Lucias would definitely dampen the carefree mood her tour of the city had carried with it thus far.

  A small cough drew their attention back to the children.

  Derek stood at the fore, his hand clasped behind him. “Are you actually serious, my lord? You want to adopt us? All of us?”

  “That was our intention,” Lucias replied whilst Clara nodded empathically. “Are you voicing your objection? As you can see, my lady is very keen to get all of you off the streets rather than have you punished for your attempted thievery.” He straightened to his full height and silvery-blue sparks of light flickered across his eyes. “That’s still an option, if you’d prefer.”

  The boy stepped back, dragging his sister with him.

  “Lucias,” Clara said, grabbing his sleeve to pull all his focus on her. “Don’t frighten them.”

  “I’m not objecting,” Derek mumbled.

  Sweetie squirmed in her brother’s grasp. “The last man who said he wanted to take us in tried to sell us.”

  Clara knelt before the girl. “I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but I promise, this is nothing like that.” She brushed the soft, springy hair from the girl’s face. “You’ll live with us. Be fed and clothed. Taught and trained in whatever you desire to learn. But you’ll need to be my page for a little while first.”

  The girl wrinkled her button nose. Clara could see the resemblance there with the boy Sweetie claimed was her brother. “What’s a page do?”

  “Well, I don’t know what other pages are made to do, but my current one runs little errands for me. He also learnt to fight.” Clara took in the girl’s slightly piqued expression and added, “With a sword. But, we tend to start off with one of these.” She withdrew her dagger and closed the girl’s pale fingers around the hilt.

  Sweetie clutched the weapon like a rope thrown down a well. Her already huge eyes grew even bigger. She looked from Clara to Lucias and back.

  Clara glanced over her shoulder to find Lucias thoughtfully rubbing his chin as he surveyed the children.

  “Do any of you know how to read?” he asked them. “Or know the route to the castle gates?”

  Their reply was mixed. Most of them nodded, although the youngest one shook her head, wh
ilst the boy called Trubs looked a little perplexed and the very quiet girl—that Clara pegged as being no older than six—shook her head in wide swings.

  “My brother taught us a few words,” Sweetie said, wringing her hands. “Street names, so we could find our way back if we ever got separated.”

  “I can read the Goddess’ Gospel, my lord,” Derek said. “The priests let us stay in the temple on cold days. I know the way to the castle, too.”

  “I suppose that’ll be enough to get them there for now.” Lucias climbed back into his saddle. “Round up your children, love,” he ordered Clara. “One of these shops is bound to have some parchment and wax. I’m sure they won’t mind if I borrow them.”

  Clara frowned.

  The action must’ve been noticed for Lucias continued, “My seal should get our little troop through the gates and to Thalia’s door, she’ll see to the rest whilst we continue on with our tour.” He kneed his destrier around, riding off into the hastily-parting crowd.

  Derek watched the horse’s passage, his brow furrowing as he gently drew Sweetie closer. “You’re dumping us in the castle?”

  “Only until tonight,” Clara insisted. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll treat you well in our absence.”

  “And if they don’t?” Derek countered. One of the young boys had ventured closer, he too was added to the older boy’s grasp.

  “You said that you’ve read the Goddess’ Gospel?” Clara waited until Derek gave a puzzled nod. She’d dim memories of the priests and their lectures. Her mother had vastly preferred Clara to work in the shop rather than attend sermons and Lucias, whilst devout in his own way, saw a throng like that as merely another place for his enemies to stage an assassination. “Then you’ll know of the Great Lord?”

  Again, Derek nodded. The rest of the children had descended the statue. They circled him like chicks around a mother hen. “He said we’d be under the Great Lord’s protection. Does he work for him?”

  Clara shook his head. “Not exactly. That man—the one you tried to steal from and whose eyes just glowed a moment ago—is your Great Lord. And I am to become his wife in four days from now. Believe me when I say those in the castle will take the utmost care with you and your siblings.”

  Chapter Eight

  Clara glanced over her shoulder as her pony happily ambled behind Lucias’ destrier. The children were well and truly out of sight, having vanished into the crowd the very second Derek was handed the letter stamped with the Great Lord’s insignia. She’d briefly thought they’d fled back to wherever they spent their days, but the boy had seemed intrigued enough to follow Lucias’ orders.

  Then again…

  “We should’ve gone with them,” she mumbled to herself. Despite Lucias insisting otherwise, there were a great many things that could go wrong in letting them enter the castle unescorted.

  “They’ll be fine,” Lucias replied, snapping her attention back to him. He’d slowed his mount’s pace to walk alongside her. The horse high-stepped, his neck arched and tail flicking in what she assumed was displeasure at their slow speed. “Thalia will see to them. And if they’re not there when we return later in the afternoon, then I’ll personally help you find them, all right?”

  She absently chewed on the corner of her mouth and nodded.

  “But right now, you’re missing out on the sight before you.” He pointed over the rooftops.

  Clara straightened in the saddle. Although they were still some distance from the Pillars of Endlight, they dominated the sky, their presence growing with every nearing step.

  A pair of ordinary towers became visible as they rounded a corner. The sight set her stomach to bubbling and fluttering like a child faced with the approaching Feast Day celebrations. The structures might not have been as imposing as their destination, but they were a signal that a city gate neared. And that could only mean an unobstructed view of the ancient structures.

  Sure enough, the next corner afforded her a view of an exit to the walled-in houses and bustling streets. Clara tightened her grip on the reins, willing herself to remain calm. Not as easy as she’d hoped.

  People filled the cobbled street between her and the open road, but this didn’t seem to pose an obstacle to Lucias. His horse surged forward, parting the crowd through sheer presence. She trailed after him, her face growing hotter with every perceived stare.

  Armed men sporting the livery of the watch stood at either side of the entrance, their faces trained on the men and women passing through. They appeared far more diligent at their job than the men back at Everdark. But then, little of note happened in her village and those who joined the watch there seemed to consider it an easy job. Being part of the watch within a city at the border had to be a far more exciting life.

  A man separated from the group to their left. As he grew closer, she spied the customary knotwork upon his cuffs and shoulders, although in a design she’d not seen before.

  The man stamped to a halt before them. His gauntleted fist hit his breastplate with a heart-stopping bang that drew attention to those who had previously paid them little mind. “Hail, Great Sword of the South.”

  Lucias swung his mount around and bowed his head. “Lieutenant Dean, it’s good to see you again. How is the road to the Pillars?”

  “Peaceful, my lord,” the man replied, his gaze sliding her way. One brow lifted quizzically as she was… evaluated. It was such a fleeting expression that she thought she’d been mistaken, but no, she had definitely just been assessed. The lieutenant swiftly returned his attention to Lucias. “Shall I have my men mount and escort you?”

  Clara bit her tongue to keep herself from objecting. Yes, she would rather travel solely in Lucias’ company, even if it was for a time, but if the man deemed such measures as a necessity, then disagreeing with him would hardly be wise.

  “I applaud your concern, lieutenant, but your men aren’t required.”

  Indecision flickered across the man’s face and, for a moment, Clara thought he might maintain his stance on the escort. Then the lieutenant seemed to recall just who he would address this objection to and instead opted to salute, turn on his heel and stride back to his men. The little display was enough to part the remainder of the crowd, leaving a clear path to the road. And the Pillars.

  Lucias led the way down this gap, his mount jerking its legs high with every step.

  People bowed in his passage. Our passage. Hard to miss that the genuflections came in her wake just as much as their Great Lord’s. So unlike the villagers of Everdark who would barely glance her way as she walked the streets.

  The full blast of pre-spring air hit them as they passed beneath the arch connecting the gate towers. Harsh and icy from its trip down the mountains, it buffeted those who dared the slush-covered cobbles. Shivering, Clara tugged on the reins, her stomach clenching as the pony fought the command before edging closer to Lucias’ black destrier.

  No longer hemmed in by walls and buildings, the crowd spread out. Those on foot generally opted to leave the road altogether and walk along either side, whilst the carthorses were urged into a faster pace. The occasional rider joined the throng, their passage firing mud and water in all directions.

  Ahead, the gleaming Pillars beckoned, the road they guarded winding across the plains and disappearing into the mountains. Strange that people seemed so eager to traverse the way when the enemy lurked on the other side. Q’oth was the closest according to the maps. And home to the Raven Estate. Had Lucias’ mother settled there or did she return to Ne’ermore to come up with another plot to end her son’s life?

  Her gaze flicked to Lucias, marking how he fidgeted in the saddle, always looking around, his right hand constantly checking his sword. She hadn’t seen him this suspicious since they’d first left the Citadel some months ago. Back then, it was the all-too-pressing matter of his mother’s impending arrival that plagued his mind. And she was beyond the very border they now made their way towards.

  Clara cleared her
throat, drawing his attention. “Did I hear the lieutenant call you Great Sword of the South?”

  A whisper of a laugh passed his lips, but even that held a tinge of nervousness to it. Hard to detect unless expected. “You did. The nomads gave me the name during my year roaming the moors with them.” He twisted in his saddle and frowned at the city gates. “Although the ‘Great’ bit is new.” Settling back down, he urged his horse into a slow trot. “Come, before they decide to follow regardless.”

  She gritted her teeth and clung tightly to the pony’s mane as they proceeded to bounce along the road. If the lieutenant chose to send an escort after them, she wasn’t certain how a little distance would stop the watch from catching up.

  With each step jarring every inch of her, Clara lost track of their progress until the road began to climb over the foothills. She hauled on the reins, relieved when Sable fell back into a swaying plod.

  Lucias veered off the road. His horse came to a halt at the top of a mound with barely a twitch of the reins, her pony stopping after a few shambling steps. “There they are: the Pillars of Endlight.”

  Clara craned her neck, taking the sight in one breathtaking sweep. Every passage she’d ever read about the Pillars didn’t do them justice. “I wasn’t expecting them to be so… big.” Each glistening white tower stood strong before the gorge. Together, they formed a perfect arc, ready to defend the land from whatever suicidal enemy dared to brave this entrance.

  “They predate the kingdom, no contesting that,” Lucias said. “Scholars believe them to be older than the nomads’ claiming of the moors.”

  And they’ve owned the land for over two thousand years. At least, that’s what the books in the Citadel’s library said. She eyed the towers, the stone so white in the cool winter sun, like something from a legend. She could well believe they claimed such an age. “What were they defending?”

  Lucias shrugged and kneed his mount onward. “Come on, no point dawdling here. You wanted to get closer, didn’t you?”