Chapter Ten

A riana’s nerves would be the death of her.

That’s what she told herself as she lifted the hem of her beautiful gown and ascended the smooth steps to Traitor’s Gate with as much grace as she could muster.

Yesterday, she had tripped and stumbled through the undergrowth, a poor creature in disguise. Today, she was the Countess of Darkmoor, come to deliver Beltane mead to the guard. She had donned a shining emerald-green gown for the occasion, though her hair was left loose to tumble over her pale shoulders as she had risen long before the maid was due to attend her. With luck, she would be back between the sheets before Allys came to draw open her blinds.

Her hand shook as she walked closer to the squat tower. The first rays of morning sun cast a dappled hue onto the gray stone, though the sun did not yet have any strength to it. Ariana would have been chilled, were it not for the fire of anxiety burning in her belly. All she had to do was convince the guard to drink the mead. One small and simple task. The potion Merek had slipped her was potent enough to act instantaneously. When the guard woke up, he would remember nothing of her visit. Ariana would have been and gone, Ysmay would be free.

Once this latter point was discovered, the poor guard would be in trouble, no doubt. But there was nothing she could do about that.

Her hands trembled so violently that the precious liquid contained within the goblet all but spilled over the edge. She bit down on her lip in fierce concentration, holding the goblet as far from her body as she dared in case the heady fumes made her woozy. She was nearly there. Above her, she could see the black boots of the resting guard, crossed at the ankle.

He slumbered on duty. Obviously not one of Otto’s finest.

She had never done anything like this before.

She took a deep steadying breath. With another step, she would be fully in the guard’s line of sight. There would be no going back.

She had to be convincing.

For the hundredth time, her mind raced back to the ladies in Sir Leon’s feasting hall, recalling how they would simper and sway, eyelashes fluttering, bosoms pressed forward.

“Halt, who goes there?”

The guard’s voice was louder and harsher than she had expected. No more prevaricating. It was time to act.

Ariana pushed back her shoulders and drew her lips up into a smile. “It is only I, Countess of Darkmoor.” She allowed the guard’s surprised gaze to travel the length of her body before resuming her ascent of the wide stone steps.

“Countess.” He dropped into a hurried bow. “I was not expecting…” he trailed off, embarrassed no doubt by his unfastened uniform and disheveled appearance. His sword belt was propped against the arched doorway of the tower and his helm was nowhere to be seen, allowing her to speak to him as a person, not an anonymous guard in gleaming silver.

“You were not expecting me?” she suggested, making her voice purr like a cat.

“I was not,” he confirmed. “Forgive my sorry state.”

It was nothing short of a crime, she realized, for a guard of Darkmoor to be caught unarmed and undefended. Perchance her quest would be easier than she had feared?

She forced herself to stand still and look him in the eye. She was still a couple of steps below him, and therefore able to tilt her head coquettishly upwards. “You were not expecting anyone, were you?”

The guard stammered, unable to deny that he had been neglecting his duties. Ariana knew a sudden rush of power, correctly divining his fears that she may report his laxity back to Otto. She drew herself up to her full height, conscious of the strain of her bosom against the delicate fabric of the gown and the natural slant of the guard’s eyeline.

“I was not, milady,” he said in a rush.

He was no older than she, Ariana realized. Bored and lonely most likely. Relegated to a job that no one else wanted to do.

Her smile became more genuine, lighting up her eyes. “Have no fear,” she said, lifting her skirts and traversing the final steps so they stood just feet apart. “I will say naught of this.” She dipped her head towards his abandoned sword belt, making it clear that nothing had escaped her notice.

“I thank you.” He swallowed and straightened his shoulders. “How can I help you, milady?”

“Oh no.” She tossed back her hair with a small giggle. “I have not come all the way here in search of your assistance. I have come with an offering.” He raised a puzzled eyebrow and she pressed on, ignoring a fresh assault of anxiety. “Where I come from, it is customary for the lady of the house to offer refreshments to all who serve her on the feast of Beltane.”

It was a bare-faced lie. Sir Leon would no more offer hospitality on Beltane than on any other feast day. He was a parsimonious lord and master, who kept a dour and cheerless household. But this lowly guard of Darkmoor was not to know that.

Ariana smiled again, conscious that her mask had slipped. She must appear carefree, nonchalant, a follower of the Beltane rites. She stepped forward and pressed the goblet into the guard’s hands, exerting pressure when she felt his initial resistance.

“Drink,” she urged. “You have stood on duty all through the night. It is only right you should have refreshment.”

“The earl does not like us to take intoxicating liquor when we are on duty,” he tried, a faint blush staining his pale cheeks.

Ariana shifted her stance so her skirts swayed around her ankles. “The earl is not here,” she whispered, greatly daring.

Had she gone too far?

Just when the hammering of her heart had grown loud enough to rival the overhead morning chorus, the guard finally allowed himself to smile.

“We always kept Beltane back home,” he nodded behind him, towards the village beyond the castle walls, before pressing the goblet to his lips and drinking deeply.

Ariana’s relief was but momentary, for he drained the goblet and handed it back to her, apparently unaffected by the potent sleeping draught Merek had so reluctantly provided for her. But no sooner had her mind leaped to this alarming possibility, than the young man swayed on his feet, frowned in puzzlement, and slumped to the ground.

Cautiously, she extended her foot and prodded him on the shoulder. The guard didn’t stir. He lay as still and lifeless as a rock. Alarmed now, Ariana pushed her hair away from her face and ducked down beside him. She held her palm close to his nostrils, weak with relief when she felt the warmth of his breath.

He lived still. Thank goodness.

But her time was limited. She had been entirely focused on drugging the guard but now the task ahead of her loomed large and insurmountable. With fumbling fingers, she fished in his stiff pockets for the large iron keys which banged heavily against her hips. Luck was on her side and the first key she tried fitted the lock of the squat tower. She heaved her shoulder against the unrelenting wood and stumbled through the door.

Darkness surrounded her. It was as if she had stepped into another world from the sunlit cheer of early morning. Here, the thick walls swallowed all sounds. Neither the torrential gushing of the river nor the chirp of woodland birds could permeate the ancient stone. All was silent and the gloom was absolute. Ariana’s shoulders shook with a mixture of cold and fear, but there was naught she could do but press on.

She recalled the bridge was set into the back wall of this first tower. That was where she must head. She took a deep breath of stale air and put one foot in front of the other, aware of the chill travelling up through the soles of her feet. After several paces, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she could make out the dim outline of walls. A scurrying shape past her feet made her heart leap into her mouth.

Only a rat , she calmed herself.

There must be dozens in here. It was best not to think about it.

Greatly daring, she reached out a hand and traced a line along the damp walls, finding her way from one side of the tower to another. When the featureless back wall loomed into sudden view, she didn’t allow her spirits to plummet, but bravely ran her palms all around until she encountered a catch in the stone. The door swung open, taking her by surprise, and as light flooded into the chamber, her knees fairly buckled with relief. She stumbled out onto the wooden bridge without a thought for safety, desperate to get out of the unrelenting darkness of the tower. Outside, the air was sweet and the light akin to a gift from the heavens. Ariana clung onto the wooden handrail and steadied her breathing. Through the wooden slats beneath her feet, she could see the fast-running river far below. She must watch her step. Just one rotten plank would spell disaster.

Easy now, she told herself. One step at a time.

The bridge held firm beneath her tentative footsteps and she arrived at the doorway to the second tower without incident. Here, she was sure she would find Ysmay. On her second attempt, she found the correct key for the doorway, and only then did a new thought occur to her.

What if Ysmay was not the only prisoner in Traitor’s Gate?

Worse, what if she was not the only one to be wrongfully imprisoned in Traitor’s Gate?

Ariana clung to the stone wall as thoughts chased around her mind. She had come here for one purpose only, to rescue her aunt. Not to mount an insurrection against Darkmoor. Such an action could have terrible consequences. No matter what she found, she would have to steel herself against pity for anyone else’s plight.

If she only had a torch to light her way.

Ariana had deliberately stood with her foot blocking the door, so a thin strip of daylight filtered into the gloom of the second tower. But here the darkness was not so absolute, for occasional thin windows allowed in a bleak glimmer of the outside world. Ariana blinked until her eyes adjusted and she could make out a steep stone staircase winding up through the center of the tower, then she moved her foot and the door closed with a dull bang.

Her heart thudded with anticipation. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She lifted her skirts and began to ascend, paying no heed to the rivers of damp running down the walls, nor the chilling echo her footsteps sent reverberating around her. The cold was harder to ignore for it seemed to have crept into her very bones. Though mayhap it was trepidation that made her shiver so. On and on she climbed, in a spiral that became ever tighter, until at last she reached a small galleried opening. She swallowed hard and forced herself to peer between the bars of the cell, fearful of what she might find. But her eyes saw only a poor heap of dirty straw and the remnants of an old candle.

The cell was empty.

Ariana was about to press on when a new sound reached her ears, and she froze in surprise. What was that? Hardly daring to breathe, she listened hard, warmth stealing through her when she realized what was happening.

Someone humming a melody.

It was a voice she recognized. Ariana’s spirits soared. It was Ysmay.

The humming dispelled both the gloom and her anxieties. Ariana ran lightly up the next spiral of the staircase, relieved that as the sound grew louder, the light in the tower grew brighter. Was the force of Ysmay’s inherent goodness dispelling the gloom of this dreadful place?

She stumbled out into a large circular room, set with regular square windows. In the center of the room sat a tall, thin woman with long cascading white hair. The woman held herself regally, despite her poor surroundings. She had her eyes closed and her hands folded in her lap. At one side of the room was a pallet of straw covered with a thin blanket. A larger shaft of light came from an opening to the battlements. Ariana crossed her arms over her chest, overjoyed to have found her aunt but reluctant to startle her. The conditions were not as dire as she had feared, but there was no question Ysmay would be cold and hungry. And frightened, knowing the execution that awaited her.

“Ariana?” Her voice was steady. “I knew you would come.”

Ariana flung herself forward and kneeled at her aunt’s feet. “I am so pleased to have found you.”

“My dear child.” Ysmay gripped her hand with surprising strength. “You have taken a great personal risk to do so.” Her startling blue eyes seemed to look straight into Ariana’s soul.

“It is of no consequence.” Ariana shook her head so vigorously her hair flew out behind her. “All that matters is that you should go free.”

Ysmay smiled. Her face had grown ravaged with age and weariness, but her beautiful smile was unchanged. “That, I fear, would have grave consequences. And for you more than most.”

Her aunt’s hand was chilled despite her steady grip. Ariana sandwiched it inside her own, trying to inject some of her own warmth and vigor into the woman who had helped to raise her. “Do you know about my marriage to Otto? Otto Sarragnac?” she amended.

Ysmay inclined her head. “I know it was planned. I know it came to pass. What I don’t know yet is how much happiness it will bring to you.”

Ariana was exhausted after her climb up the tower and all the adrenaline of her rescue seemed to be seeping away. “I cannot be happy with the Earl of Darkmoor, not while he keeps you prisoner up here.”

Ysmay’s gaze was steady and unblinking. “The earl gave special instruction that I should be treated well. And as you can see, I have been.”

“You’re a prisoner,” Ariana protested. Her eyes raked over the cheerless room, the cold bare floor, and the empty grate. “You should be with the people who love you.”

“I admit, I did not anticipate ending my days here.” Ysmay held up a regal hand to silence her niece and Ariana bit back her denial. “But I have had much time to think. And this twist of fate may have been necessary. Intended even. If the North is to know peace, Kenmar must ally with Darkmoor. Your marriage to Otto Sarragnac may be the start of this.”

Ariana slumped onto the dusty floor, uncaring of her elegant gown. “My marriage to Otto did not have to come at the cost of your freedom.” Her voice shook. “Or your life.”

Ysmay gave her a knowing look. “For what reason did your father agree to the alliance?”

Ariana paused as the realization struck her. “So that I might reclaim your jewel for Kenmar.”

Her aunt nodded. “Exactly so.”

“But your life is too high a price for peace between Kenmar and Darkmoor.” Ariana shook her head vehemently. “I could not live with myself.”

“Ariana, you are young and have your whole life ahead of you. I am old. My days are ending.”

“You are not ill?” she asked in alarm.

“Not ill.” Ysmay shook her head. “There is strength in my limbs still.”

“Good.” Ariana pushed herself to her feet, seized with new conviction. “For I am not leaving you here.”

“Ariana…”

“No,” Ariana spoke over her with all the authority of the Countess of Darkmoor. “Either you allow me to help you down those cursed stairs and out into the light, where you can live freely once again, or we both of us stay here to be found by the guards.” She bit down on her lip. “And punished accordingly.”

“Ariana, you can’t do this.”

She smoothed down the folds of her gown. “It is already done,” she said airily. “I have committed my own crimes against Darkmoor this day. Crimes which won’t easily be forgiven, should they be discovered.”

Ysmay shook her head slowly, her eyes shining with love as well as trepidation. “Your future happiness hangs in the balance. I feel it. I know it.”

“Once you are free, I will be able to commit myself to Otto,” Ariana promised wildly. “I will make my marriage work. I will keep a lasting peace between Kenmar and Darkmoor. All of this and more, I pledge to you, aunt. But while you remain a prisoner, awaiting execution, I simply cannot.”

Ysmay pulled herself to her feet, just the faintest tremor in her body betraying her age and weakness. “I see we are at an impasse,” she said softly.

“I will not be swayed.” Ariana focused her gaze on the leafy treetops visible through the square windows. Gray clouds scudded across the sky, and she thought of the guard laying slumped across the doorway to the squat tower. Merek had said he would sleep until noon. But how long did they have until he was found?

“Very well,” Ysmay sighed. “You have your mother’s stubborn determination. It is a strength,” she smiled, nodding gently. “It will see you well in the future, I am sure.”

Hope unfurled in Ariana’s chest. “You will come with me, now?”

“I will.” Ysmay extended her arm. “And I thank you, my dearest niece, for your love and concern.”

They made halting progress down the spiral staircase. Many times, Ysmay slipped on the damp stone and Ariana had to hold her steady, flinching at the birdlike frailty of the woman who had once appeared indomitable. Despite her physical weakness, the healer brought an air of calm to their journey, and the chambers seemed less dark and forbidding in her presence. They paused at the wooden bridge, Ysmay taking great rattling breaths to recover her strength, and Ariana wondered anew at the flaws in her plan. She had given no thought to what would happen next, imagining her aunt as a healthy druid priestess who longed for freedom and would stride off into the woods with scarcely a backwards glance. The Ysmay of her mind’s eye was younger and stronger than the Ysmay of today. Had she made matters worse by insisting on setting her free?

“Do not worry, child,” Ysmay whispered, seeming to read her thoughts. “I will follow the river into the lands of my people. It will not be long before they greet me. All will be well.”

“I can go with you,” Ariana said recklessly, hating the thought of abandoning her.

But Ysmay only smiled. “You promised me your commitment to your husband. And I intend to hold you to that.”

Together, they clattered over the wooden bridge. Ariana braced herself for the horrors of the squat tower, but again the gloom was diminished by Ysmay’s steady, unflinching presence. Much sooner than she’d expected, they were out in the brightness of early morning.

Ysmay bent with surprising grace to the prone figure of the guard. “He will awaken soon,” she pronounced. “Do I detect Merek’s work?”

Ariana nodded dumbly, fearful of exactly how soon this might happen. She bent also and replaced the keys in the guard’s pocket.

“Merek will be a good friend to you,” Ysmay said gravely. “Keep him close.”

“I will.” Ariana swallowed down a lump in her throat, as she helped her aunt down the tower steps, newly aware that this was goodbye. She flinched at the sound of the cockerel crowing. So much time had passed. She could only hope that Allys had been tardy in her duties this morning.

“I will leave you now, Ariana.” Ysmay stood by a copse of holly, haloed by sunlight. “Remember what you have promised me.”

“I remember.” Ariana pushed down her emotions. “Take good care.” Her mind whirred with a hundred things she could have brought to ease her aunt’s onward journey. A warm cloak. A flagon of mead. Even a walking stick would have been helpful. Her eyes rested on the guard, and she saw a small flash of steel. His dagger. Ysmay could take that at least, to protect herself. “Wait,” she called, already climbing the tower steps to retrieve it.

But when she turned back, Ysmay had gone. From her higher vantage point, Ariana scanned all the woodland paths she could see, but her aunt had disappeared without a trace.

Ariana was left in her green gown, with a slumbering guard at her feet and the growing warmth of the sun stealing over her. The events of the morning already felt surreal; from her terrifying journey through the darkness to Ysmay’s reluctance to leave the confines of her cell. It had all been like a dream.

A dream that would quickly turn into a nightmare were the guard to awaken and find her there.

Ariana picked up her skirts and began to run.

She arrived back in her bedchamber to discover that she had arrived before Allys—but with the maid sure to arrive at any minute, there was no time to undress and feign sleep. The stirrings of the mighty keep were impossible to ignore, and she could only send up thanks that no serving maid had spied her unladylike scurry up the stone stairs. Once safely in her room, with the door pressed shut behind her, she splashed cold water on her burning cheeks and dragged a comb through her tousled hair. The young woman peering back at her through the looking glass had a face awash with guilt. Ariana grimaced and tried to settle her features into a more regular pattern.

Allys knocked on the door and entered, blanching at the sight of her mistress already dressed for the day.

“My lady.” She hid her confusion behind a curtsy.

“Good morning, Allys.” Ariana aimed for bravado but pitched her voice a little too high. She cleared her throat and tried again. “It is a lovely morning.” The serving maid shot a puzzled glance towards the closed shutters and Ariana cursed her own stupidity. “I can hear the birdsong,” she added quickly.

Allys folded her hands. “You are dressed already, my lady?”

“No.” Ariana shook her head. “I woke early and decided to look through the gowns I brought with me from Kenmar, that is all. I have no wish to spend the day like this.” She cast another glance into the looking glass, hardly recognizing the tall, elegantly dressed lady reflected back at her. In just a few hours, the false confidence she always attempted to exude had been replaced with something solid and real. After all, she had half-seduced a young guard already that morning.

“But that gown would be perfect for the Beltane feast.” Allys stepped forward with a faint smile.

Ariana grasped the lifeline. “The Beltane feast. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Unless my lady would like to try this one.” Allys crossed the room and opened the tall door of the dresser. “The earl himself sent it up for you yesterday.” She brought out a sumptuous gown of deepest red and held it against her own slender frame.

Ariana couldn’t help a gasp. “It’s beautiful.” The gown was low cut across the chest with a full skirt.

Allys nodded her agreement. “The earl’s boy told me that he would especially like to have you attend the feast in person.”

Ariana moved closer so she could reach out and touch the expensive fabric, imagining how such a rich color would look against her skin. She then thought of Otto picking out the gown and sending his boy to request her presence. Her heartrate increased as she remembered the last time their eyes had met across the courtyard. He had been riding away, dressed for some suspicious assignation, while she had been disguised as a poor peasant. Had he recognized her after all? Was this gift of a gown some kind of message?

Her hand fell away, and she blinked in confusion. At her temples, she felt the first throbbing of a headache.

“It would look well on you, I think.” Allys paused, her cheeks coloring a little. “But only if it pleases you, my lady.”

Ariana turned away so the poor maid didn’t have to witness any more of her uncertainty. She walked over to the window and lifted a corner of the shutters, enjoying the rush of sunlight into the chamber. Outside, the courtyard was already busy with the usual milieu of scurrying servants and eager horses.

She couldn’t hide up here forever. She would have to face Otto some time.

And she had promised Ysmay that she would commit to her marriage.

Ariana took a deep, restorative breath and turned to face her maid. “Do you know, Allys, I think it would please me very well. Come early tonight and bring the brightest jewels to dress my hair. It is Beltane, after all, and I wish to please my husband.”