Return to Caer Lon Page 8

  Dried blood and dirt had formed a crust in the stubble on his chin under her fingers. His left wrist was clung to the wall at a bizarre angle. The left was bandaged with a rag she recognized to be a piece of her shirt.

  Sacha sat near the prisoner and touched his forehead gently. She felt pain, unable to tell if it was his or her heart bleeding. Derek winced when she brushed the cut on his temple. His skin was cool under her fingers. Or maybe it was hers that was too hot. She did not know. Sacha took her hand away, and nestled against him in the semi-darkness. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, as if it was too heavy to for her alone to bear. Tears tingled in her eyes, hot as they glided on her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry…”

  His free arm came around her gently, and she drifted off again.

  oOo

  His face had the color of wax, pale and unhealthy. She recognized the high cheekbones at once, and the full lips, too red and plump for a man. He always complained his mouth was too feminine, but she had forbidden him to grow a beard, pretending it itched when she kissed him.

  Sacha grabbed her long skirts, preparing to join her brother, when he turned to face her fully. His eyes were the same cornflower blue, warm and kind. She called, but Elwyn did not react. Maybe he was too far away to hear her. She called again and waved, but his stare stayed fixed above her head. Why didn’t he see her? She was just in front of him; Elwyn!

  Sacha moved forward then broke into a run, but the distance between them refused to shorten. Elwyn! Elwyn, I’m here, look at me, Elwyn!

  His head turned toward her again, and she stopped running. He looked surprised. He held one hand up, testing the air. A frown shadowed his handsome features. She stared as he put both hands up, palms wide open in front of him. His brows knitted in some mute effort, as if he was pushing at some invisible wall. His hands fisted into balls and he punched at that glass she could not see.

  Suddenly Sacha felt something pulling her down, crushing her lungs in a ferocious seize. She gasped and Elwyn took one hand to his throat, then the other. Her heart started pounding, hammering against her chest painfully. Air burned in her lungs. Her head fell backward and she panicked, unable to breathe. Elwyn! Elwyn, please help me! Elwyn!

  Her brother was battering frantically at the barrier that kept them apart, his mouth opening in a call she could not hear. Sacha tried to breathe. She was cold. Her vision blurred in a maze of brown and green. So cold. She opened her mouth to scream. Something crawled between her lips. Her stomach revolted. She could not breathe. She jolted, trying to get rid of the suffocating grip. Her fingers grazed her throat, finding nothing. Please…

  Chapter 12

  Sacha fought to escape the claws of her dream. Her body protested against the merciless grasp retaining her. Still unable to breathe properly, her eyes firmly shut, she wiggled and jerked to break free, gasping for air.

  “How… Calm down. You had a nightma-”

  “Don’t touch me!”

  Her hysteric cry was more effective than her physical attempt to shove Derek off. He released her wrists at once.

  She wanted to take her blankets up her chest, but his weight forbade it. Sacha tugged at the cover harder. She felt ill. She was freezing. She wanted to curl into a ball and be warm again. Her mind was still confused, unable to reconnect with reality; it refused to associate the impressive frame of the man seated on her cot with the prostrate form of her visions.

  Sacha gave another pull on the sheets. Panic spread inside her; she had to get the sheets, she needed to be warm…

  “Get off! Get off!!”

  The shriek echoed dangerously in the silent room. Derek pressed one hand hard over her mouth to silence her. Attracting attention in the middle of the night after stealing from the library was low on his list of priorities. Her fright was starting to affect him as well. He felt powerless in front of her anguish and hated it.

  “Sacha, be quiet… Everything is fine, it was just-”

  Her teeth grazed his palm and he swore, taking his hand away instantly.

  “What the hell?!”

  The young prince stood up, giving up on comforting her; not that he had been very good at it in the first place. Once she could move under her blankets freely, she stayed immobile, her hands clutching the fabric anxiously. Her pupils were dilated with fear, never leaving him.

  Indignation added to frustration at the idea that she was terrorized because of him. Furious with her, or with himself for frightening her, Derek made no effort to lower his tone.

  “I was not forcing myself on you, for Christ’s sake! What do you take me for?!”

  He started pacing the room, certain her eyes followed each of his moves despite the darkness. He had just wanted to comfort her. His wandering took him to the opposite wall, then back to the beds and to the wall again. He should have been able to comfort her.

  His failure aggravated and embarrassed him. He wished he had more space to give her. Obviously, his very presence added to her distress. It was too late in the night to go down to the main room for even a short moment. Maybe he could pretext some biological urge and leave…

  “Please Derek… Elwyn needs me… Please help me…”

  Lost in his thoughts, he had not heard her approach him, and he jumped at the contact of her hands on him. Pride exploded inside his chest at hearing her beg so desperately for his help. He longed to prove himself worth of her trust. Her skin felt icy cold through the fabric of his shirt.

  Shaken by the conflict both ideas aroused inside him, Derek retreated behind his usual coldness, unlocking her fingers from him.

  “I am here, aren’t I?”

  Her head fell on his chest when his words drained away the last mists of nightmare, as if she had finally regained full consciousness and was too weak to stand by herself. Derek straightened her chin up to look at her face. In the moonlight, her eyes were impossibly clear, nearly transparent. He pushed her long hair off her face gently, brushing the soft skin of her cheeks.

  “You are not alone. I am here with you. Come back to bed now.”

  Sacha let him guide her to her cot. She picked up her comb and secured her hair with it. The gesture, so naturally feminine, was something reassuring in her disarray. She cuddled on her side, her knees to her chest. Derek tugged the covers up to her chin. The gesture reminded her of tucking in a small child. She felt just as vulnerable as one.

  When his bed squeaked under his weight, she closed her eyes to concentrate on the sounds the young man made in the dark. His breathing was calm and steady. The peaceful rhythm, almost hypnotic, cradled her until her taut nerves relaxed and her own breathing fell into pace with his. She imagined the regular rise and fall of his chest as he drifted back into sleep. His strong presence created a shelter around her, even if he was several feet away. She felt protected near him, at peace; the feeling intrigued her.

  Sacha exhaled slowly and the warm air rebounded on the sheets to caress her face. She buried her nose in the rough fabric, trying to remember the sensation of Derek’s touch on her cheek. It was foolish to see anything but a comrade offering solace in his gentle gestures. In the morning he would be his usual self, contemptuous and infuriating. Now, he acted like he cared.

  “Do you want to tell me about your dream?”

  The murmur startled her and her cheeks grew hot. Sacha was grateful Derek could not read her thoughts. She’d been so sure he was sleeping. The wood of his bed cracked. She supposed he had turned on his side. She took a few more seconds before she realized she needed him to know.

  “Elwyn was in a cage of some sort… I could not see it, but I know he was trapped… And when I tried to reach for him, I… drowned.”

  Another sound followed her confession and Sacha felt her mattress dip under his hand before he found hers to squeeze it.

  “I will not allow any harm come to you.”

  She believed him. Then she remembered and inhaled sharply.

  “You were hurt… We were prisoners and…” S
acha paused, as she understood the terrible truth. “You are going to be hurt because of me.”

  Hot tears threatened to well. Derek pressed her hand again.

  “I consider myself warned, then.”

  He had to be grinning in the dark. The smile reverberated in his whisper.

  “And so should you. No more reckless venturing and no luring me so I do your will blindly.”

  Sacha took away her hand, taken aback by his light tone. The bed protested again as Derek turned once more before he added.

  “I was just kidding, Sacha.”

  He teased when she was opening her soul, revealing her secret fears to him? And she did not lure him into doing anything! Well, maybe once…

  Sacha scowled, gratitude and freight a foreign souvenir.

  “Your sense of humour is dreadful.”

  “You are the one to complain.”

  “Probably because I am the one who cares.”

  She realized too late the double meaning of her reply. She could nearly see his blue eyes sparkling and waited for the kill, her fragile nerves tensed to a breaking point. But Derek thankfully held his tongue, ignoring the open door.

  When he talked again, the topic was completely different, and on safer grounds.

  “Did you decipher the text? You were already asleep when I came up, I did not have the chance to ask you…”

  “Yes, I did. It is a prayer, addressed to a goddess of the Old Religion. The prayer is a demand for her mercy and her help to let the supplicant into a High City. Derek…” Excitation bubbled in her voice, her previous annoyance forgotten. “I think it describes the way to enter Caer Lon!”

  His bed complained again and a few seconds later, the candle’s light blinded her. Derek came to sit on her bed again and he handed her the scroll, urging her to read. Sacha pushed up against her pillow and unrolled it carefully.

  To the truthful hearts only

  Open the secret door to the City.

  Oh White Lady,

  Hear my plea;

  If I cry, share my tears,

  And guide me through my fears;

  If I fall, help me stand,

  And in your right take my hand;

  My heart is pure; my word is true;

  Humble I come to you;

  Oh White Lady, hear my plea;

  And let me in the High City.

  When she finished, his eyes had the same deep blue shade she had found so fascinating in the afternoon when he told her about his family’s history. Light framed his silhouette, growing brighter and clearer by the second.

  Sacha struggled, unsure if she was strong enough to resist the aura enveloping him, unsure what would happen to her if she decided to touch it. She saw the soft glow so clearly, defining his head and his shoulders, gliding around his chest. The light was irresistible. She brushed her palm over the gold dust, unable to stop herself.

  The touch astounded them both. Derek caught her wrist in midair and her pale cheeks turned the delicate pink of those wild roses she loved so much. He was close enough to whiff it on her skin. The young man released her arm, ill at ease.

  “We should go back to sleep.”

  Sacha nodded, avoiding staring at him while he moved to his bed and blew the candle. Even in the dark, a fine line of light defined his figure, fading very slowly as sleep claimed her.

  oOo

  One day earlier...

  The door opened silently and the young woman glanced quickly both ways before she tiptoed down the corridor to another door. She knocked furtively, jolted by the sound. The authorization to come in gave her another jolt, even as she was expecting it.

  The room was brightly lit, though the fire and the numerous candles failed to bring a joyful atmosphere around the brown-haired woman seated at the hairdresser.

  “I did as you ordered, my lady.”

  “And are you sure no one suspects the changeling?”

  “Yes, my lady. I took out the rest, so it will be the only option.”

  “Good.”

  The young maid curtseyed and was to exit the chamber when she hesitated.

  “My lady? The Lady Sacha will be fine, won’t she?”

  The woman glanced at the worried girl in the mirror.

  “We did what we could to help her Agnes. You did well. Leave me.”

  The maid bowed again, and exited the room.

  The smile reflecting on the silvery surface vanished. She had done what she could to protect Sacha from herself. All depended on Derek now. She prayed he was simply strong enough to save them all.

  Chapter 13

  Derek concentrated on his tea. The porridge rested untouched by his elbow. In daylight, the events of the previous night had faded to become fragments of a strange puzzle he had trouble fitting together. He had stayed awake a long while after exertion finally caught up with Sacha and she fell asleep. This time, no bad dreams came to haunt her, and she was granted a peaceful rest. He yawned. His own sleep had been really too short for his taste.

  “Good morning.”

  He pushed onto his feet to pull her seat, the gallantry an automatic gesture, before he remembered about the benches. He waited until she was seated nonetheless. Sacha smiled at him and thanked their host for the tea and steaming bowl of boiled oatmeal.

  She looked fresh and in a far better mood than he was. Derek sat in turn and glowered at his breakfast. The beige mixture did nothing to cheer him up. He despised porridge.

  “Why don’t you ask for something else?”

  The prince glanced up and met stirring green eyes. Her good mood annoyed him. Derek rumbled stubbornly, “I can do with this.”

  The soaked oats slithered down his spoon like a colorless slug and fell down into the bowl with a distasteful thump. He forced himself and took a mouthful of porridge, swallowing as fast as he could before his tired brain realized what he was putting into his mouth. The texture was abominable. Sacha’s smile deepened at his grimace.

  She sampled her own food in turn and declared, “This is absolutely terrible!” before she put her spoon down. Pushing his bowl aside first and then hers, she gestured the tenant for something else to eat. At last, Sacha returned her attention to her companion.

  “Are we going back to the library this morning?”

  Derek glanced at his former breakfast, grateful to be spared the torture, and amazed by her behavior. The day before, she could barely talk to him. And now she organized his meals and entertained the morning ritual with a casual composure of which their old teachers would have been proud.

  Her conduct suggested she did not remember anything of the previous night. He wished he too could forget the disturbing feeling of her hand in his hair as easily. Did he conjure up everything, the nightmares and the following quarrels? Whatever had put her in such a pleasant mood, he was not going to complain anyway. Her expression brightened the space around her. Derek sipped his tea without answering.

  “Derek?”

  Sacha was still staring at him, so Derek gurgled some uncommitted “Yes.” Then, given that she was still looking, he felt obliged to give a full answer.

  “We need a map. You gave us a key to translating this thing, but we still need to find the door that it unlocks.”

  Gisela approached with a tray. The waitress smiled at him when Derek nodded his thanks, then bowed quickly and left. He helped himself to bread and cheese, and finally noticed Sacha’s happy grin was gone. Derek presented her with the bowl of early berries.

  “Do you want some?”

  “I am fine.”

  He quirked a brow, surprised by her mordant tone. One moment she was joyous, playing house and chitchatting agreeably, and the next second she was frowning. How could he hope that they work as a team if she made a point to mislead him all the time? She was looking above his shoulder, her lips pursed into a thin line and the food untouched in front of her. Maybe going on an empty stomach would help taming her character a bit.

  Derek swallowed the last of his share, a
nd pushed onto his feet.

  “Let’s go then. I want another look at that tax collector’s list.”

  The young woman stood gracefully, abandoning her intact breakfast and moved to climb up the stairs leading to their room without a glance back. Derek sighed and walked back to the table to cut a piece of bread, and folded it with a clean cloth before he thrust it inside his belt’s purse. He preferred when she smiled and took care of him, of his breakfast that was. They really were too old to act like pouting children.

  oOo

  Friar Johan bowed deeply in front of Sacha, before he led the way to the library once more.

  Taken aback by the excess of politeness, she brushed invisible dust from her sleeve before she followed him, and wrenched her neck to Derek. His satisfied grin alerted her. Sacha asked softly “Did I miss something?”

  “Well, it seems that our new friend is impressed to the serve the Duchess of Pemfro.”

  Surprise and annoyance fought an even match on her regal features.

  “You did not…”

  “I did. We need more cooperation from Friar Johan. He is obviously more than willing to-“

  “He was helping!”

  Derek motioned her to speak lower.

  “He just brought us books he probably knows by heart. We cannot afford to waste any more time. The Abbot received an official request for a copy of those chronicles yesterday evening and another for full-time assistance from the librarian; both services will, of course, be generously acknowledged.”

  “What do you mean an official request?”

  Derek took out a small object from inside his jacket. Sacha recognized her personal seal.

  “You took it from my bag yesterday!”

  So that was why he was searching their bags while she scrambled through the scroll. She glared, holding her hand toward him.

  “It is mine, hand it over.”

  Derek took her hand to wrap it around his elbow, as their friend was waving at them from the door of the scriptorium. The seal had disappeared in his pocket again.