Heart of the Flame (12 page)

"Nay. Only what I have already told you." She let out a little sigh, and shook her head. "I don't think I want to recall much of it. I don't think I will be able to forget again, once the memories return completely."

Ariana's mouth flattened grimly, and she covered Haven's hand with her own. When she spoke there was no surprise in her voice, only a grave understanding. "There are dark forces at work, Haven. Very dark. You cannot know how fortunate you are that you survived to be here at all."

"Why would they attack Greycliff? What did they want?"

"That is what I had hoped you might answer for me," Kenrick interjected. "They were looking for something in Rand's possession. I need to know if they found it."

She shook her head. "I don't know what the attackers wanted. Why is it so important to you?"

He leaned back, a forbidding look in the taut lines of his face. His untrusting silence only made Haven more impatient.

"You won't tell me anything, but you expect--nay, you demand--my cooperation?"

An air of quiet tension stretched across the dais, a deliberate stillness that sparked Haven's anger. She looked from Kenrick's stoic expression, to Braedon's dark visage at the other end of the table, then to Ariana's gentle but withholding gaze beside her. Even she, who had been Haven's only friend since she had awakened in this strange place, would say nothing more.

"You ask for my trust when none of you will give me yours."

Ariana was the first to glance down in culpability under Haven's charge.

"Kenrick," she said quietly, "Haven is right. She has lived a part of this, as we have. She is involved, whether you wish it or nay, brother. And if you do not tell her, I will. There was a time not long ago that I was the one kept in the dark over this quest of yours."

"And the knowledge almost got you killed," he replied, not quite masking the devotion he felt for his only kin.

"The knowledge of the Dragon Chalice wasn't what nearly claimed my life. It was those who seek it--the same dangerous men who slew your friends and might have done like to Haven if you hadn't found her to bring her here. She has a right to know."

Like a silken thread catching on a thorn, Haven's mind snagged on two words Ariana spoke. "Dragon Chalice?"

"A myth," Kenrick said, slanting a pointed look on his sister.

"What of it?" Haven asked.

For a long moment, no one said a word. Then Kenrick drew his gaze away from Ariana and her grim husband to settle instead on Haven. "There is an ancient legend that tells of an enchanted land of great and powerful magic. This mystical realm, Anavrin, owed its existence to a special cup known as the Dragon Chalice, which granted its bearer many gifts: limitless wealth, complete happiness, and life without end. These gifts and more belonged to Anavrin and its people, until a mortal man stole the Chalice away from them."

Haven listened raptly, feeling doors creak open in the far corners of her mind. "I think I have heard of this treasure. It is...familiar somehow."

"Perhaps Rand might have said something about it to you," Ariana suggested, looking from Haven to Kenrick in question.

"Perhaps," he said, but there was little acceptance in his flat tone. "Only Haven can answer that for certain."

"I don't know," she said in total truthfulness. "I would have no cause to keep it from you if I knew."

Kenrick grunted as he began to eat his soup.

"How is it you know so much about this legend?"

"I have been studying it for nigh on ten years."

"For what purpose?"

"To see if there was any truth to the tale."

"And is there?"

He stared at her for a prolonged while, then shook his head. "No. There is no truth to it at all. The Dragon Chalice does not exist."

At Haven's side, Ariana had grown quiet. She turned her full attention on her meal, which she finished in haste. Too soon, she and her husband were making their excuses to retire, a departure that left Haven alone with her inhospitable host.

Even the servants seemed to pity her for her place beside their mysterious lord. They came and went from the dais with great efficiency, casting furtive glances at the woman who had come into their domain with no past--with barely a name--and who was being held in the keep as an unwilling witness to some horrible misdeed.

Their curious looks said they, too, thought her less a guest than prisoner here, although none would dare to sympathize much less stoop to aid her. Not if it meant stirring the wrath of the man they claimed was either half mad or half lost to the dark arts.

And now there was this fairy story that spoke of enchanted treasures and kingdoms made of mist and magic.

"If you believe what you say about this Dragon Chalice, that there is no truth in the fable, then what has it to do with what happened to your friends at Greycliff? What has it to do with you and your sister, and the knowledge that you say nearly got her killed?"

"Some men will do anything in pursuit of a dream."

"Is that what the treasure is--a dream?"

He shook his head. "It is a nightmare. A very deadly one that I hope to put to rest."

"And so you study this legend every hour of every day, and keep it locked behind the double bolts of the chamber at the top of the tower stairs."

She had meant it only as an observation, a casual remark on his habits and the goal that clearly drove him, but the look in Kenrick's eye was grave with warning. "There is a reason the folk here know to stay away from that chamber. You would be well advised to do likewise."

"Do you mean to threaten me now, my lord?"

"Call it what you will. I am in earnest, Haven. Do not cross me on this."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." She rose abruptly, and stepped away from her chair. "If you will excuse me."

Kenrick motioned for one of the servants to come forth to the dais. "Lady Haven is finished with her sup. Please show her to her chamber."

"That will not be necessary," she replied, her ire directed at the cool blue gaze of Clairmont's arrogant lord. "I can find my way on my own. And you needn't worry--I won't venture out of my bounds."

Chapter 11

"Are you not hungry, Haven? You hardly ate at all yesterday and now you've barely had enough to break your fast this morning."

With mild disinterest, Haven eyed the lump of yellow cheese and broken loaf of bread that sat on the table near the bed.

"You should eat some of it," Ariana insisted, concern etching her fine brow. "You need to build your strength."

"Pray tell, what for? Your brother has informed me that he will keep me here so long as he wishes, whether I am fit or failing. My chamber door may be unbarred, but I cannot take a step within or without and not feel him watching me--forever judging me in that maddening way of his."

Ariana settled in beside her, seating herself on the edge of the bed. "What has happened, Haven? 'Twas clear that you and Kenrick had words before the sup yesterday. What is it? What went between you?"

At first, she thought to deny that Kenrick had upset her. Why admit such a weakness? Why acknowledge that he held any sway over her at all? But she was still angered from their conversation in the hall, and there was no denying that her encounter with him in the tower had left her confused and angry throughout the duration of last eve's meal.

She tried not to consider what else had passed between them, nor to credit her unwilling response to his touch...to his very presence.

She would be mortified to confess that he affected her in that manner, even to Ariana. Worse and worse, should Kenrick somehow hear of the admission and mock Haven for her reaction to him.

"It was nothing," she said at last, hoping to dismiss the subject. "I had been walking about the tower corridors, merely stretching my limbs. I was doing naught more than wandering when I discovered myself on the uppermost floor."

Lady Ariana let out a small sigh. "Kenrick allows no one up there. The chamber is his alone."

"So he was quick to inform me. He made it very clear that I was trespassing there, and that I would be well warned to leave at once."

"Ah, I see. I am sorry, Haven. I fear Kenrick can be a bit..."

"Brutish?" she offered. "Surly? Overbearing?"

"Intense," Ariana said with a sympathetic smile. "You must understand, he is a very private man, very much involved in his work. I'm afraid he is not terribly skilled when it comes to being around other people--more and more, as of late. If he has said anything--or done anything--to cause you discomfort or upset, I am sure he did not mean it."

Haven wanted to maintain her outrage, but found it difficult to hold when it meant turning her anger on Ariana. Instead she gave a little shrug, begrudgingly accepting the offered excuses. "You will pardon me for saying so, but your brother is a boorish, infuriatingly broody man."

"At times." A smile teased at the corners of the lady's lips. "I wager the same can be said of all men from time to time, can it not?"

"Quite," Haven agreed, sharing the jest in spite of herself.

"Kenrick wasn't always like this--the way he is now. Years ago, when we were growing up, he was very thoughtful and kind. There was a sensitivity to him, a compassion fueled by his desire for learning and understanding. When my mother was ailing and near the end of her life, she made my father promise to allow Kenrick to pursue his scholarly interests."

"Your father did not wish for him to do so?"

Ariana shook her head. "Kenrick was heir to Clairmont, you see, and his duties to the demesne could not be shirked. My father honored my mother's wishes once she was gone, but he made a separate agreement with Kenrick. He could go to the church and learn, but he had to come back to Clairmont when the time came for him to be lord. Kenrick had hoped to one day be a priest."

"A priest?" Haven nearly choked to hear such an unlikely notion. "That is a calling that requires humility, is it not? And a kind disposition? From what I have seen, he has neither of those qualities."

"He had, once. A long time ago. It might surprise you to know that he was often called 'Saint' by those who knew him. Randwulf of Greycliff coined the name when the two of them were boys. Rand fostered here at Clairmont. He is--
was
--Kenrick's closest friend."

At the mention of Greycliff, Haven grew quiet. She could hardly think of the place or its folk without also returning to the carnage of the night the holding was destroyed. Visions that had been confined to the dark hours between dusk and dawn had since begun to haunt her in the daytime as well. They came unannounced, and with increasing clarity, although the visions lasted only moments and were gone as quickly as they had come.

This time, she felt the heat of fire too close to her skin. She was choking, struggling for every breath, hurting everywhere at once...desperate to escape. She was running, she realized, seeing the inferno blazing at her back. The night was dark as pitch save the blinding orange of flames leaping into the sky from Greycliff's tower and its surrounding buildings.

She was stumbling, lightheaded. Unable to maintain her balance. She threw a glance over her shoulder, her vision bleary, breath panting with exhaustion. Three shadowed figures were suddenly at her heels. One of the men went down with a howl, felled by a length of polished steel protruding from the center of him. A beastly, murderous roar shook the night. She would be next to fall. She knew it with stunned certainty.

Faith, but she did not want to die!

"Haven?"

The soft summons broke through the onslaught of memories, carrying her swiftly back to the present. When she glanced up, she met Ariana's concerned frown.

"What is it, Haven? You have grown so pale."

"'Tis nothing. I am...I am fine."

Ariana took her hand and pressed it between her palms. It was a caring gesture, but Haven felt unaccustomed to such displays.

The contact unsettled her, and she pulled away. "I am fine."

"No, you are not. What happened to you at Greycliff? I know you are beginning to remember. I can see the horror of it in your eyes."

Could that be true? Was she so easily read? Haven got up from her chair and strode to the window across the room. "I do not recall everything. What I do remember makes little sense."

"But it is coming back," Ariana replied.

Her intuitive observation gave Haven pause. Although her memory was yet elusive, presenting only quick, confusing snatches of the truth, it was slowly returning.

Part of her wanted to push it back to the darkened corners of her mind, for what she saw was increasingly troubling and violent. But there was another part of her--the part that sought its own self-preservation--that urged her to embrace the full truth. To welcome it back with all haste, for with it would come a certain understanding.

And a certain power that currently eluded her.

"I realize my brother has done little to win your esteem since you've been here, but you should know that if anyone can understand what you have been through--what you might have witnessed in the attack on Greycliff--it is him. Kenrick will protect you if you let him, Haven."