The Twelve Kingdoms: The Mark of the Tala (7 page)

She shuddered in remembered horror. “It flew away and I was glad to see it go.”

I didn’t know what to say. But it explained the looks, the uneasy sidling around me in the halls, as if I were some breed of insect. Perhaps I’d learned to be invisible because of that.

“I’m sorry.” Dafne laid a hand on my now very dusty sleeve. “You look so sad—I should have found another way to describe it.”

“No,” I breathed out, brushing off my dress and her hand with it. “That was a perfect way to tell me. Not quite human. It’s not like I haven’t seen how they look at me.”

“People don’t think it.” Dafne caught my sleeve again, her cinnamon eyes earnest, serious. “It’s a feeling. A raising of the hairs on the back of the neck.”

“Somehow that doesn’t sound any better.” She flinched and I sighed. “I asked you to tell me the truth and you did. I asked you to show me—at the risk of your life—interdicted materials I need and you did. I am indebted to you. But I have one more question.”

She looked resigned, waited.

“Have you heard of a person or place called Onnafen?”

Her eyes opened wide. “How did you hear that word?”

“Would you believe me if I said in a dream?” I answered weakly.

But she nodded, solemn. “I would. Annfwn is beyond the Wild Lands. Ancient homeland of the Tala.”

“I need to know more.”

“There’s very little written about it.”

“Can I see what there is? Please?”

“Yes,” she decided. “You should know what you can. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

But I didn’t go back, because that was the night the Tala attacked Ordnung.

D
espite the preparations, the increased guard, everyone seemed taken by surprise.

After all, no one attacks Ordnung. No one with any sense.

Ursula’s scouting expedition had found nothing. The meadow of the acid-green grasses apparently turned out to be only a meadow, which I could have told her. It wasn’t like Rayfe lived there. Or that Tala would have come swarming up out of the vegetation like flesh-eating insects.

No, when they came, they came at night.

I thought I wasn’t sleeping. I’d tossed and turned for a long while, afraid the nightmare would catch me up in its claws again. The stories at dinner hadn’t helped. Once again, Uorsin remained closeted with his advisers. Freed of his firm presence for a second night, the court fell into serious tale telling. The anticipation of the day, the thirst for excitement, and the building lust for battle got them dredging up stories from the wars. And before.

One stern old soldier—the one who taught the younger kids basic defense skills because his missing legs were an excellent cautionary tale—told how he saw a pack of black wolves destroy a farming village. How they went for the bowels, tearing the guts from women and children alike while arrows bounced off them or went wildly astray. They’d knocked him down and chewed through his ankles, leaving him helpless to move while he watched them toss an infant around like a chew toy.

“And then”—he took a deep drink of the soldier’s brew, a harsh liquid I could never abide—“they turned into men. I saw it with my own eyes,” he insisted to the scoffing murmurs. “The wolves were gone, and dark men with black hair stood in their places. They built a pyre and burned the bodies.”

I wanted to ask how he’d survived, then—the blood loss first and the scouring of the village for bodies after, but someone had chimed in with tales of demons visiting the old kings in their beds and leaving them dead.

“My gran told me this tale,” one of the younger ladies from Amelia’s retinue chimed in. “Old Erich’s father, who was king before him in Avonlidgh. He retired one night, hale and hearty. Some say his valet saw it. A black shadow crawled in the window—not an animal, nor a man. The valet was frozen to his chair, where he’d sat to keep vigil. The shadow had wings, like a great bat, and blue eyes that shone in the dark. It crawled over the king like a lover—and drank blood from his throat.”

A few of the more timid ladies squealed and clutched the arms of their escorts. Amelia’s lovely eyes grew wider and glistened as she drank in the wild tales. Ursula raised her eyebrows at me in faint disgust. She wasn’t one to credit these stories much. Of course, no one mentioned our mother, not even glancingly. It didn’t do to imply the queen had been part demon, even now.

Still, the lurid stories stuck with me, images of blood and wolves chasing one another through my mind, winding through the stories I’d read, some every bit as horrifying. Sleep would drift over me and start to take me under; then the covers would shift under my hands, sliding away like sand, and I’d jerk awake once more.

But I must have slept, because Rayfe sat on the edge of my bed again. He stroked my cheek, calling my name in his husky voice. I opened my eyes, seeing him, black hair blending into the dark behind him, the stone walls of my chamber misting away into dream fog.

“Andromeda—wake up, my bride.”

“I am not your bride.”

“You are. Always. Come to me.”

“Leave me alone,” I whispered.

“I can’t.” He shook his head, his long hair falling forward as he leaned over me. The scent of dark spices filled my head. He cupped my face in his long-fingered hands, midnight-blue eyes brilliant with intensity. “You’re the one. I don’t want to fight, but I will if I have to. The need is too great. You are the only one who can stop all this.”

“I can’t stop it. You started it—you stop it.”

“I promise I’ll treat you well, but you must come to me. Annfwn needs you.”

“I’m afraid,” I pleaded with him. “I want to stay here.”

“Why? There is nothing for you here.”

“My sisters are here.” Well, at least Ursula was. Amelia would be gone again soon. “My horse. My home.”

“They will still be your sisters. Bring your horse. Annfwn will be your home. Trust me—you’ll be happy there.”

“Even if I believed you—and I don’t because I know you care nothing for my happiness—my father will never agree. You don’t know him.”

Rayfe laughed at that, leaning back. He hissed in pain, and my heart lurched. The dagger protruded from the center of his chest now. Fresh blood radiated in a circle, like an archery target over his heart, bright crimson. He saw me staring at it and cocked his head.

“Will you remove your dagger now?”

“Why don’t you do it? Or one of your surgeons?”

“I told you. Only you can. Take back the wound you gave me. Please.”

Shouting arose outside the window. A clash of steel. A shriek of terror.

“What’s that?”

He didn’t even glance. “We’re coming for you, Andromeda. To rescue you. I told you I’d fight if I had to.”

“I don’t need rescuing!”

“Then exercise your free will and come to me. We’ll distract your guards so you can.”

“I can’t.” I tried to scramble away from him, my heart pounding in terror that he’d somehow grab me and drag me out the window, carrying me away, screaming, into the night. But I was trapped between him and the tower wall.

His face fell, disappointment followed by anger. “You can and you will.” He took me by the shoulders, strong hands biting into my arms. His hair draped around me, curtaining out the world. “If you won’t come to me, I’ll come for you. Wherever they hide you, I will find you. This I swear.”

Lady Gaignor, blond hair spilling in a wild tangle around her, shook me by the shoulders.

“Princess Andi—wake up! We must get you to safety.”

Behind her, my three sentries ranged in the doorway, swords gleaming deadly in the torchlight from the antechamber. Men in armor poured into the outer room with much clashing and banging. Sounds poured in from outside. Horrible shrieks and angry cries.

I rolled across the bed to the window. Below, dark shapes swarmed over the bridges, climbing up the outer walls with spidery strength and speed. Archers picked them off here and there, but ten times as many spilled over. The sword-bearing soldiers fared no better—more seemed to be chasing after furry, long-legged shapes than skewering any. Great black raptors dived from the sky, harassing soldiers and archers alike.

Everywhere, bodies were strewn about, human and animal, blood pools glimmering in the light of the torches on the walls. In the brief moment I caught, an enormous black wolf took down one of our soldiers, jaws locked on the woman’s throat.

“Princess!” One of the sentries grabbed me around the waist, placing himself between me and the window. “It’s not safe for you to look out.”

“I just wanted to see—”

“Put this on, Princess.” Violet Gaignor looked as panicked as I’d ever seen her. She threw a black cloak over me and knelt to slip boots onto my feet, lacing them tightly.

“Boots? Do they really go with my nightgown?” It was all so absurd.

“In case the enemy manages to penetrate the inner walls. And believe me, you’d be glad to have them then.”

Ursula came striding in, steely eyes glinting as she surveyed me. Some kind of shining black liquid spattered her boots. “Why isn’t anyone on that window? Moxon, Din—get over there and cover it. Andi—why in Glorianna aren’t you out the door already? I taught you better than this. I swear you can sleep through anything.”

“My sword is on the press by the window—would someone allowed to go near the window hand it to me?”

One of the soldiers—Moxon, maybe—leaned around the open arch of the window and snagged my sword where it lay in its sheath, the leather belt snaking around it. With a blush and a nod, he handed it to me. I buckled it on over my nightgown.

“You should keep it closer than that.”

“Not all of us sleep with our swords, Ursula.”

Someone sniggered and I regretted my sharp words until she replied.

“Not all of us are so lucky as to lie about while others give their lifeblood to protect us. Speaking of which—why aren’t you in the safe room yet?”

“If you’ll get someone to gather up some real clothes for me, I can change in whatever room you’re hiding me in.”

She nodded at me and I let Gaignor bundle me out of the room. Tall soldiers surrounded us, so all I could see were backs and shoulders. Between their striding legs, I glimpsed the hallway, the floor flooded with a pool of shining black. They took us to an inside holding room, several floors up from the ground level, but not in one of the towers.

“Did you see anything?” I asked her. The sounds roaring across the castle seemed far worse for coming from invisible sources. What made that peculiar howl?

Gaignor shook her head. “No. Nor do I care to.” She dashed tears away, stifling a sob.

“Hey—don’t cry. They’re probably just making a show, to get the King to hand me over. Posturing. You know how the fighters do.”

“If they breach the outer courtyard—what of the horses?” she choked out.

My stomach congealed, cold with dread. The horses would be killed. I imagined the stables on fire, Fiona screaming as she burned. Midnight-blue eyes flashed in my mind, Rayfe smiling that cocked half smile, his wolfhounds milling around him while he dug his long fingers affectionately through their fur.

“They won’t hurt the horses.” My voice carried conviction and Violet blinked at me through her tears. “They love animals. It’s the soldiers who will die.” Faceless men and women in their armor. I didn’t know the names of most of them. Not like Ursula did.

The door opened with a crash and Amelia came rushing in, a vision in creamy lace that barely concealed her lithe-limbed body, largely because she’d neglected to fasten the emerald velvet robe she’d tossed on over it.

She flung herself in my arms, twilight-blue eyes wide with concern.

“Are you all right, Andi? Those horrible creatures haven’t hurt you?”

“No—have you seen them?”

“Yes.” She shuddered, shaking her hands as if they were spattered with night dirt. “They swarmed our tower. Hugh had to fight them off to get me through. Horrible. But he carved through those beasts like they were nothing.”

Gaignor and I exchanged glances.

“What
were
they, Amelia? We haven’t seen anything.”

“Haven’t you? Oh! I thought surely if they were in our tower, they would have been in yours. Of course, they can’t know where we each sleep, so I suppose it was chance.”

Except I knew it wasn’t. Rayfe knew where I slept. Those weren’t just dreams; they couldn’t be. My arms ached where he’d grasped me, and I still smelled his scent on me, never mind how impossible that might be. My head throbbed.

“The creatures, Princess Amelia,” Lady Gaignor urged, “what are they?”

Amelia bit her lip. “They’re not like anything. Rats, maybe. Yes, like large rats with no tails and sharp teeth. And they’re black as midnight. When Hugh cut them with his sword, black fluid poured out, leaving them these empty sacks. Hairy bags of nothing, strewn everywhere. But their blood poured over the steps, coating everything. Hugh had to carry me over it.”

The black spatter on Ursula’s boots, the slick pools covering the white stone floors.

“Rats don’t howl.” I couldn’t sit, so I stood to pace the small chamber, feeling silly in my riding boots and white nightgown, cinched around my waist with the sword belt. “Did you see dogs? Like wolfhounds?”

“No one breeds wolfhounds anymore, Princess.” Lady Gaignor said it gently, like I might be delusional and in need of soothing. I realized I’d dug my fingers into my hair and was pressing my skull. The headache that had never quite faded spiked, hot and cruel. The howls from outside seemed to be crying my name.

“You’re thinking of Rayfe’s wolfhounds, in that meadow,” Amelia breathed. She cocked her head, listening. “I don’t hear howling. And I didn’t see any dogs—just those rat things.”

“You’re wrong.” I paced faster. This room was far too small. I needed to see outside. “They’re out there. Can’t you hear them? They’re in pain. They need me.”

Come to me.

“Did you hear that?”

Gaignor and Amelia exchanged looks. Amelia slowly rose to her feet, holding out a slim white hand to me. “Come sit down. We need to be quiet and wait.”

“No!” I screamed at her. “Don’t you see? I should never have left my dagger in his shoulder. In his heart. He’s bleeding. Can’t you hear him howling?”

I grabbed the latch and flung the wooden door open. The surprised guards spun, swords flashing silver up to my face. I ducked beneath, making it only a bare stride before one wrapped his mailed arms around me, lifting me from my feet, crushing me while I screamed incoherently.

“Don’t hurt her,” Amelia sobbed in the background.

“She’s gone mad,” Gaignor called. “Restrain the Princess. Do not harm her.”

More shouting, and a flock of small blackbirds filled the hallway, warbling so sweetly that the screams, the black ooze pouring down the nearby steps, seemed impossibly vulgar and wrong. I stilled, watching them. They swirled a perfect spiral and vanished. When their song ceased, the howling had stopped also. And the pain in my head miraculously eased.

All the tumult from outside ceased, leaving an unnatural silence heavy in the air.

The guard set me down.

We stood there, pretending nothing odd had occurred, while I adjusted my gown around the sword belt and drew the cloak tight around me. A chill breeze speaking of more rain poured in, meaning that the great front doors of the castle were open again.

Ursula’s boot steps came snapping down the hallway. I heard her calling out orders for scouting parties and renewed guards. “My sisters—are they all right?”

She rounded the corner and raised a sardonic eyebrow at me. Shining black drops spattered her high cheekbone on one side. Some of my and Amelia’s ladies scurried behind her—including the garrulous Lady Dulcinor, who threw me a scandalized look disguised as sympathy—thankfully carrying better clothes for us.