Knightfall (Tangled Crowns Book 1)

by Ann Denton

  “Ah!” I dropped him back into the puddle. And, as if he were a sentient creature, not simply a stupid lizard, he ran right for the fireplace and scurried up inside the chimney.

  I turned slowly to Avia. Her hair was plastered to her face. Her brown eyes were wide and fearful.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’ve just been nearly burnt then drowned. I think I need a minute.”

  “Fair enough,” I turned back to Declan, who had taken a few steps forward and now stood at my side. I looked up at him, his straight, perfect blond hair was bedraggled. His grey velvet coat was ruined.

  His eyes met mine and he held them for a long moment.

  “I’m fine—” I started.

  “Why’d you say to multiply sand?” he asked. As if that question were the most pressing thing despite everything that had just happened.

  “Because it can smother a fire. Of course, I didn’t realize you’d go overboard and fill the entire room—”

  “That salamander was still actively on fire.”

  “I had calmed him down. He was still.”

  “Really?” Declan raised a brow. “The room’s contents suggest otherwise.” He eyed the ruined tapestry and the two burnt rugs.

  I glared at him.

  “Back to the sand,” he dismissed my anger as if my emotions were unimportant. “What specifically made you recommend it?”

  I shrugged. “When I was in the village of Lucha, I saw an execution by fire. At the end, they used sand to douse the fire instead of water. Kept the wooden pillar from rotting. Easier clean up and re-use, the village executioner said.”

  “The future Queen of Evaness takes advice from executioners?” Declan asked.

  “He knew what he was talking about.”

  “He did?”

  “They have a lot of pillaging from Rasle’s mountain clans. When winter closes in, Lucha has a lot to handle.”

  “Did he say what kind of sand, or the quantity to fire ratio?”

  “You are not asking me that.”

  Declan looks startled. “Yes, I am.”

  “The type of sand is irrelevant. Right now, we need to change. We need to get this room cleaned up. And we’ll need to keep this all very discreet.”

  “What? Why?” Avia pulls me around to face her.

  “Because I think someone let that salamander in here on purpose. I think you were just attacked.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryan walked into the room. “You won’t believe what happened. There’s a huge pit that opened up in the courtyard. As if a giant hand scooped up a ton of sand. What the hell—” he stepped around the puddles that dotted the floor. “What happened in here?”

  “Fire salamander. I had to decrease the sand to make more water in here. The blighter must have tried to get out of the cold.” Declan replied as he stripped off his soaked coat.

  I couldn’t help admiring how his white shirt clung to his body, even as his words stung. I’d just said I’d thought this salamander had been sent deliberately, hadn’t I?

  I met Declan’s eyes. “You think a fire salamander scaled four floors of palace walls, bypassing the many warm cozy fireplaces on the lower floors and just happened to end up here?” I glared at him as Avia’s lady-in-waiting and maid appeared.

  They shrieked, and immediately hustled my sister out of the room to bathe and get re-dressed so she wouldn’t ‘catch her death.’ I waved them off when they offered me the same. I was too furious to deal with servants. There was no coincidence here. That salamander did not just wander in.

  Ryan’s eyes flickered between my anger and Declan’s dismissive head shake. His lips quirked in amusement.

  “Don’t go turning a salamander into a dragon,” Declan said over his shoulder as he walked toward the door. “They sneak in during winter.”

  “It’s not winter yet.”

  “It’s not an attack. It was a tiny salamander.”

  “Queen Matha was killed by a poisoned frog,” I shouted.

  “Queen Matha was killed by her own idiocy,” Declan turned at the door. “Who kisses a frog?” He nodded toward Ryan. “You get our lovely wife for the afternoon. Watch out. Connor says she’s a walking disaster.”

  “I’m not the one who flooded the palace.”

  “No, you’re the one who was screaming her head off over a tiny reptile the size of a twig.”

  I clenched my fists. I really wanted to grab the wine bottle and hurl it at his head. But Avia’s personal servants were already streaming in, silently and efficiently cleaning up the disaster. I could’ve hit one of them.

  Declan disappeared.

  “Ass.” I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose. It didn’t reduce my fury.

  Neither did the sight of Ryan when I opened my eyes.

  He was openly grinning down at me. “Afraid of a lizard?”

  “Don’t,” I threatened.

  Ryan smiled wider. He scooped me up into his arms facing him. One forearm became my seat as he used his other hand to drape my arms around his shoulders.

  “I can walk, you know.”

  “I know,” his deep voice rumbled. “But what if you see another flaming lizard? Or an ant?”

  I smacked him. But his body was warm and I was soaked. Plus, I had a view of the top of his sculpted pecs peeking out from beneath his shirt. I decided not to argue too hard against this arrangement. Still, I had to say something. “Last time you had your hands on me, you were trying to kill me.”

  “I was trying to stop you from killing me.”

  I shrugged. “Semantics.”

  He laughed, and the laugh vibrated against my pelvis. If I hadn’t been so cold, it would have done very naughty things to me.

  “You’re angry a lot,” he commented.

  “I don’t like idiots.”

  “Declan’s a genius—”

  “He’s an idiot. All the furniture in that room is ruined. If he’d used his power to dump sand on selected areas just to smother the fire, it could have been swept up. The few burnt items could have been taken out. He flooded the entire room, like he has no control over his blasts at all.”

  “I don’t think he’s ever had to use his power for an emergency situation before,” Ryan shrugs.

  “Really?”

  “Unless a hoard of locusts is an emergency, he mostly deals with crops and livestock—”

  “We should change that.”

  “We?” Ryan shook his head. But he didn’t comment with all the servants surrounding us.

  I knew what he was thinking though. I leaned in and whispered, “You’d rather lose an eye than work with me, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  I sighed, and Ryan began to walk with me in tow. Instead of going into the hall, he ducked into the secret passage that Avia had opened up. He shut the door behind us and proceeded to walk down the dark stone hallway with confidence.

  “You know these passages well? Visit my sister a lot?” I asked, curiously. My mother hadn’t released these men from their contracts to me. But I’d been gone four years …

  Ryan barked a laugh. “Yes, I snuck down to play tea-party with her often. Of course not. Didn’t she tell you?”

  “Who? What? Who’s supposed to tell me what?” I asked. I tried to search his deep brown eyes for answers, but I could hardly make them out in the darkness of the tunnel. Only the occasional stream of light from a spy hole lit our way.

  “Darling wife, that mother of yours is quite the strategist.”

  “If by strategist, you mean controlling, conniving battleax, I’ll agree,” I spat back out of habit, more than anything. It was true. She was a conniving wench. But with mother’s recent gift, I didn’t put sting into those words. Not the way I used to.

  Ryan laughed again, and this time my lady parts did react. “That’s exactly what I mean. From the moment we signed our engagement contracts, we’ve all been unable to ‘find release’ with any other woman. The spell was woven into the pa
per, and the binder placed in the ink. Or so Declan seems to think.” Ryan’s tone was reflective.

  I went into shock. Utter shock. My stomach was gone. It dropped out somewhere on the floor and was left behind as Ryan began to climb the circular staircase leading to my tower room.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But, we … you signed that contract when I was sixteen.” That was six years ago. Six years.

  “Yes,” Ryan’s voice is soft.

  “No wonder you hate me so much.”

  “You think that’s the only reason we hate you?”

  “Of course not. But it’s got to multiply the hatred. Two, three times? More?” He didn’t answer. I didn’t really expect an answer. “No wonder you were angry when I said I’d been at a whorehouse—”

  He chuckled. “Livid. I don’t think angry covers half of it. I thought your mother had only made the spell one-sided. To think, you’d run off for four years, that you’d been with other men. I wanted to rip you in half.”

  “I thought you’d break my bones into matchsticks.”

  “I might have tried.” He pulled me closer. “But it wasn’t one-sided, was it?” his voice hitched, revealing how much my answer mattered.

  I thought back to Marcus and Abel. We’d kissed. They’d groped. There had been nothing even close to release. And, looking back on it, I’d been so drunk at the time, but there had been a strange compulsion to leave. I’d thought I was simply going to puke. But maybe the stomach churning, gut-wrenching feeling had been the spell. I’d certainly never wanted to repeat the experience. No matter how they’d begged.

  I tightened my arms around Ryan and whispered, “No. It wasn’t one-sided. I had no idea about that spell, though. If I had—”

  “Don’t lie.”

  I took a deep breath. He was right. He was being honest. Vulnerable. I had to be, too. It was only fair. “I still would have left. But I would have tried to break that spell before I went. I would have tried to set you all free. I never meant to make such a mess of things. I honestly thought it would help.”

  “Why?”

  I leaned into Ryan, resting my cheek on his chest. Though his body was hard, it was strangely comfortable. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek. It was steady. He wasn’t angry right now. He was curious. Anyone would be, if their fiancé ran away. He deserved some form of explanation. Especially now that I knew exactly how much he’d suffered.

  But how could I answer him? What could I say with the geas blocking me? I spoke slowly and carefully, testing the words as I said them. “You have the power to heal gently, without pain. But it makes you rage. Quinn can speak to others’ minds but loses his voice. Declan can multiply something but must decrease something else for balance. Connor can feel others emotions but then loses his head to depressing thoughts. What about—” But the geas wouldn’t let me finish the sentence. Somehow the spell knew I was too close to revealing my nature.

  Sarding hell! I wanted to scream. My insides bunched up in emotion and frustration. “I can’t—I can’t—you need to talk to Declan. I can’t say anymore. It won’t—” The geas cut me off again. This time a tear of frustration did slide down my cheek.

  Ryan fell silent.

  “More spells?” his question seemed to echo off the stones.

  My mouth opened, but words wouldn’t come. I grabbed his hand and held it to my lips so he could feel the movement. I hoped that would show him I couldn’t say. That I was trying, but that I couldn’t talk.

  He didn’t question me further. I hoped he’d heard the honesty and the frustration in my voice. I hoped he didn’t just dismiss me as Declan had. I prayed someone would be able to puzzle me out. Because that was the only way my knights and I could have an honest discussion about why I left. And why they needed to prepare for a life that probably wouldn’t involve me.

  Ryan finally reached the secret door to my tower room.

  He set me down and ran his hand along the magical seam. The handle appeared, and he held open the door like a true gentleman.

  I went through and walked into my old chamber for the first time since I’d run.

  Everything shone and sparkled; there wasn’t a speck of dust. The lavender and cream motif I’d had as a teenager was still there. The murals I’d commissioned of unicorns and dragons when I’d been a young girl still adorned the walls. The faint scent of rosemary tinted the room. My favorite smell. The staff had been busy. They must have cleaned and aired this room out upon my arrival. I trailed my hand over my favorite reading chair and made my way to the arched window by my bed. The sill was lined with glass bottles filled with potions every color of the rainbow.

  I walked over to the window and ran my finger around one of the corks. I picked the bottle up and smiled. An old label, written in my eight-year-old scrawl stated the potion inside was for ‘giggles.’ I watched the swirling purple mist inside. The potion was long expired. I doubted it would even make me grin, let alone giggle. Not to mention that I doubted my eight-year-old self had gotten the measurements for the potion exactly right.

  Hedge witches had an exacting job creating spells. The tiniest thing going wrong could ruin a spell. It was a very precise practice. Declan probably would have been wonderful at it. I’d never been. The palace mage had tried to teach me the basics. And I’d only ever just muddled through those lessons. I’d experimented plenty on my own, and plenty on Avia until the day I’d given her giraffe-like purple spots. But I’d never had the knack. It had been why I’d been so dependent on Cerena and the other hedge witches I’d met in my travels.

  “Don’t you want to change?” Ryan gestured at my sopping dress. He’d already removed the shirt I’d soaked and hung it over the fireplace screen to let the fire dry it out.

  “Yes,” I answered, though I wasn’t answering the question Ryan asked. Since I was eight, all I’d wanted was to change. Ever since my father had died and I’d realized how much danger each day was.

  I sighed and put down the potions as Ryan approached.

  “Got any love spells in there?” he joked, waving a broad, dark arm at my collection. His biceps and triceps flexed as he moved his arm and I swallowed hard.

  “Yes. Probably five or six. Little girls are quite obsessed with them.”

  “Show me one.”

  I picked up a jar with that had turned a moldy green. Brown clumps floated around inside. “This was one attempt.”

  “That looks awful.”

  I laughed and shook it. “Definitely not an appealing sort of love.”

  “Looks like more of an obsessive peeping tom potion.”

  “Or a creepy old man foot-licker.”

  “Foot licker?”

  “Quinn’s been planting perverted thoughts in my head about feet.”

  “Ha! Good for him. Definitely foot-licker potion.” Ryan took the bottle from my hands and his fingers brushed mine. My hand tingled from his touch.

  He was touching me a lot today. Why? He hated me. Had the six years driven him that crazy with lust? Did he need it so badly he’d even stoop to seducing me? The woman he hated more than any in the world? And if that was his goal, if that was what he needed, who was I to refuse? What was I to do? Turn him down? Make him suffer more when all he’d ever done was sign a contract? Maybe said some naughty words?

  I studied Ryan’s face. His black hair was shaved close to his head. His brown eyes were hard but lined with curled lashes that softened him, made his face almost pretty. That was the only soft part of his body though. I had to swallow carefully as I lost my train of thought looking at him. I turned back into the sixteen-year-old girl who’d fanned herself with her hand when he’d walked off the practice arena, a sweating mess without a shirt, with back dimples that peeked deliciously out of the top of his leather pants.

  Ryan touched my arm and jolted me out of my thoughts. “Why haven’t you put love spells on us?”

  The question jarred me, like I’d been thrown from a horse
. “What?”

  “Your mother seems to love to seal our fate with spells. You’re back, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Quinn said he heard you were staying.” Ryan didn’t ask, but the question lingered in the air.

  “Yes.”

  “You could just spell us all to be in love with you.”

  I reeled back slightly, a bit horrified. “Why would I do that?”

  “To make this easier on yourself.”

  My lips thinned. “Is that what you think of me?” His lack of an answer said more than enough. “Well let me ask you something, Ryan O’Sullivan.”

  “Hale. Ryan Hale. We’re ‘married’ remember?”

  I ignored his sarcasm as I shoved my finger into his chest. “Did you spell your soldiers into following you? Or did you earn it?” I waited, and let that sink in. “I earned your hatred. Fair and square. By a stupid, impulsive choice that I happened to think was the right thing when I was eighteen. That hatred’s mine. I’ll earn your respect, too. One day, I’ll earn it. I’ve spent my entire life trapped by magic and Mother’s stupid spells. I’m not about to use magic for something as idiotic as a love spell that wouldn’t even work on you stubborn bastards.”

  “Why not?”

  “Hedge magic has limits. You have to be open to it. Unlike mage spells—which are higher level and can sard you over completely—thank you, Mother. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m turning to ice.”

  Sard it all. He thought I was as bad as my mother? I brushed past him toward the wardrobe and grabbed out one of my dresses at random. I sort of hoped the distance spell would make him trip after he’d been such an utter ass. But no such luck.

  He followed right behind me. I started unbuttoning my sopping dress in front of him, ignoring the perusing stare he gave me. A second ago I’d considered letting him use my body. Then he’d had to go mention spells. If he thought I was that much of a bitch, was there any way this could work? Maybe not.

  My fingers were stiff from being cold and wet. I struggled with the buttons on my wet dress. After five buttons, they refused to work. I tried and tried again but the next button in line refused to budge.