Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

"Where in the all the worlds have you been?" she snapped as she picked up the bottom hem of her dress and marched out onto the muddy path in front of her home. "I've been worried sick about the storm and you being-" She stopped a few feet from the carriage and frowned at the contents. "What in the world are you doing in there?" She noticed our horses and her eyebrows crashed down. "What is going on here, Benjamin?"

Ben slid down from his horse and handed the reins to the driver who had also dismounted. "I'll explain after we have our guests tucked into warm beds and dry stalls."

Ben helped me off my steed before the driver and he took up the heavy burden of carrying the men indoors. The pair were none the more conscious until we dragged them, at Aunt Dreda's direction, into the parlor and to two chairs she and I set in front of the large fire that crackled in the hearth.

Commander Edouard was, unfortunately, the first to regain consciousness. He stirred in his high-backed chair and his eyes fluttered open. The commander looked about the room in bewilderment before his gaze settled on Ben's face. He tried to sit up as his face took on an expression of suspicion.

"Where am I?" he demanded to know as he twisted his head about. "And where is his-where is my traveling companion?"

Ben nodded at the chair beside his. "Your companion was less fortunate than you, but he should be alright by tomorrow."

Commander Edouard leaned forward and squinted at Ben. "Count Castle? What are you doing here?"

Ben grinned. "I'm a relative, and you're in the house of Prudence Etheldreda Rookwood."

A look of shock appeared on his face. "That is where we are?"

"Of course," Dreda spoke up as she returned from a short departure. She carried in her hands a tray of a dozen steaming mugs and set the platter down on the coffee table. I also noticed there was a small medicine box nestled among the mugs. "I thought you might be thirsty and had Fysan prepare something for you."

"What happened?" Edouard questioned us. "How did we come to be here?"

"Your horses bolted into a ditch near Rookwood, so we drove your companion and you here," Ben explained.

A dark cloud of fury settled on his brow. "Where is that useless driver?" He whipped his head about, or tried to. The ugly gash made him wince and he clutched his head. "Damn it. . ."

"Now there's no need to make a fuss over an accident," Dreda scolded him as she shoved a mug into his unoccupied hand. "People crash all the time when the road gets muddy and your manservant helped get you here."

Edouard didn't look too grateful, but he took a sip of the warm drink and some of his nerves were soothed. "I'm afraid with my companion taken ill we have no choice but to impose on your hospitality."

"That's quite alright. Fysan will be making your rooms ready for you once he's unloaded the carriage," she assured him as she passed out the rest of the mugs, leaving one for the unconscious man and picking up one for herself. She took a seat in a rocker not far from the hearth and raised the glass to the rest of us. "Let us drink to meetings and the friendships they may bring."

I had to stifle a snort at the thought of making friends with Edouard. It was a good thing the ribbon was secured on my wrist. Speaking of that, however, I couldn't help but notice something was off about the man who remained unconscious. His fine clothes pegged him as a nobleman and with Edouard as his escort, he undoubtedly had come from Validen. Questions as to his identity continued to gnaw at me as I took a sip from my drink. It was a hot apple cider with more than a helping of some potent liquid.

"What brings you out this far from your post, Commander?" Ben inquired.

"A. . .a vacation," Edouard replied as he grasped his mug in both hands. "I haven't seen the Werewald since I was young and I thought to enjoy its beauty once more."

"You've come at the worst time of the year," Dreda scolded him. "The damp is enough to make anyone grow mold."

"Yes, well, I had no choice about my time of leave," he countered as his eyes continued to fall on his unconscious companion.

The man began to stir and his eyes fluttered open. Edouard tensed as the man's unfocused gaze swept over our unfamiliar faces. "Where-?"

"There's nothing to fear," Ben assured him as he offered the man a smile. "You're safe at Rookwood Manor."

"Rookwood?" the man repeated as he sat up and whipped his head about. His journey of discovery stopped on Dreda and the man's eyes widened. A whispered word escaped his lips as he sank in his chair. "Dreda. . ."

Dreda's own eyes grew as large as saucers and her mouth fell open. "You! What in the world are you doing here?"

Both Ben and I had confused looks on our faces, and Ben was the first to speak up. "Aunt, do you know him?"

She kept her eyes on him as she scoffed. "Of course. He can't fool me with that disguise. Take it off now, Cal."

A smile slipped onto his lips as he wrapped one hand around his ring finger. "How funny fate is that we should find ourselves here."

The man drew his hand off his finger and revealed an invisible ring. The ring itself controlled a magical disguise that covered him much like the ribbon covered me. His false form shimmered and vanished, revealing a regal man of sixty with the same shocking white hair. He had an air about him that commanded respect and his firm, fixed gaze bespoke a man who was in the habit of making firm decisions.

Dreda crossed her arms over her chest and a crooked smile appeared on her face. "Well, I never thought I'd see you pass over my threshold again."

My bewildered face didn't match the amused look on Ben's as he caught my eye and gestured to the newcomer. "Millie Lucas, allow me to introduce you to Callidus the Third, Emperor of Ortusia."

My jaw hit the floor so hard that it bounced. "He-what-who?" I shook off my shock but still blinked at my dragon fiancé. "Really?"

"My apologies for the deception, however brief," the man himself spoke up as he stood and bowed his head to me. "I meant no harm by the ruse, I assure you."

"Then you'd better tell us why you're using one of the family heirlooms to sneak your way across your own kingdom with only one guard," Dreda spoke up.

The emperor leaned back in the chair and clasped the front of the arms as he sighed. "I will tell you, but you must swear to-"

"Oh, give it a rest, Cal," Dreda scolded him as she put her hands on her hips. "Nobody here is going to threaten your empire, so spit it out."

Edouard's face flushed and he took a step toward Dreda who didn't even flinch. "That is no way to-" The emperor held up one hand and silenced his commander.

A smile slipped onto ‘Cal's' lips. "You were always more forward with me than any other, Dreda, but you're right. Time is scarce. I've come here to negotiate a truce with the werewolves."

Ben lifted an eyebrow. "But there's already one in place."

The emperor nodded. "There is, but I've come to negotiate a new deal that we hope will stop the incursions into one another's lands."

Ben folded his arms over his chest and a pensive expression appeared on his face. "That's a tall order, Your Highness. How do you intend to do it?"

"We will each give up a portion of land which has been disputed since the elder days," the emperor revealed.

Dreda's eyes widened. "You don't mean the east Weremarch and the west Fountains?"

He nodded. "Yes. We've both sought them, so the Weremarch will go to those who bear its name, and the Fountains will officially become a part of the empire. Both trade-offs will be without dispute from either party."

"That's quite the risk," Ben mused as he furrowed his brow. "There are powerful families close to the disputed areas who won't be pleased by your actions."

A bittersweet smile slipped onto his lips. "Nor, I am sure, will there be too many werewolves eager to dispense with the lush lakes that make up the Fountains. That is why I sought secrecy until the plans were finalized, then we were to tell both our people prior to the signing."

I turned my head around to look out the front windows. The rain was still coming down in buckets and pounding the glass. "Best laid plans. . ."