Secrets of the Night Special Edition (77 page)

"And for everyone, the city, all the people. She has rid Moytura of the plague. One of her . . . spells. She didn't tell me what kind of spell and I didn't ask."

The princess closed her eyes for a moment. "Thank the Goddess," she breathed. "It's enough that she did it. If only she could have performed her spell sooner . . ." She gazed off into the distance, then sighed. "Well, at least it's over." Standing up, she motioned for him to head for the riverbank again, she walking alongside him. Back on the bank again, she wrung the water from her dress and spread it on the ground to dry. They both sat down on the dry grass, she with her legs stretched out. He looked her way, at her long legs and slim body, her full breasts straining against the bodice of her dress. He yearned to lie with her on the grass, to make love to her as he’d wanted for so long, too long! Forbidden thoughts taunted him and reckless desires warmed his body. If only she were not the future queen, and if he were not her servant. His imagination soared, his yearnings telling him that he could love again. But love for the princess? A hopeless love; far better to dismiss his longing for this woman, so far out of reach. He shifted his position and forced himself to act normal, to pretend she meant nothing to him.

"And you, madam, how are you managing here? You seem to be adjusting."

Smiling, she indicated the garment she wore. "A child's frock. The women's are too long for me. I hope to learn the tasks they perform so well, such as making clothes out of deerskin and sewing them with deer sinew. But I spend little of my time in the cave, except in the late evening and at night, when I sleep."

Wiping her wet hands on her skirt, she gave him a worried glance. "They tell me the chief's daughter is sick. Do you know anything about this?"

"No, only that her illness is recent, within the last few days or so," he said, settling back on the cold ground. "She is fifteen, I believe. They say the sickness is in her head. Won't eat but what they spoon feed her. Won't talk, just stares off into space."

Braced on her elbows, the princess leaned back, frowning. "Strange. I must visit her, see if there is any way I can help." She sighed. "But I don't know how, especially since I don't speak their language well. If only I could do something for these people, repay the many kindnesses they have afforded me . . ."

Reflecting on her life within the past year, she thought of all that had happened to her. So many changes!

But she would overcome all hindrances, do anything to rid the
kingdom
of
Balor
and gain the throne.

* * *

That evening, while darkness descended over the settlement and the air chilled with a fierce north wind, Roric left his cave dwelling to visit Princess Keriam again, needing to spend time with her, listen to her voice, see her smile. This woman had come to mean much to him, more than he wanted to admit. He hoped to find her alone.

Minutes later, he sank down on the cold limestone floor of her cave, across the smoldering fire from the princess. A small cavern, it had a beauty of its own. Streams of calcite draped from the ceiling to the floor, an adornment that never failed to awe him. Colorful paintings from long ago decorated the walls, of wild animals known only to the
Gorm
Forest
.

The firelight flickered across her face, casting a golden glow on her dark hair. His gaze rested on her hands, those once delicate fingers, now rough and calloused. He'd give anything to take her from this crude habitat, to see her restored to the throne at Emain Macha. Yet she accepted this primitive home without complaint.

She changed her position on the cold floor, drawing her legs to the side, her dress demurely covering her ankles. "It seems I have many loyal followers." She inclined her head toward the other caves. "The torathors--but we can't call them that, can we?"

"I call them outlanders, for lack of a better word."

"Ah, yes, the outlanders." She tilted her head, as if thinking it over. "If we ever overthrow Balor--"

"We will, madam. Never doubt it. Conditions will not always be so, princess. Someday you will take your place as rightful queen." And he would do everything in his power to aid her, to restore her to the throne. And then what? Leave the palace, he agonized, for it would hurt too much to see her day after day, to know there could never be anything between them.

She tucked her long hair behind her ears and edged closer to the fire. "I'm willing to wait, major, but not for long. For the good of the people, we must soon rid the
kingdom
of
Balor
."

"We can't do it alone," he said. "If we can acquire King Barzad's aid--"

"Do you think he'll help us, since the treaty is now invalid?"

"I hope to persuade the Elegians that it's to their benefit to defeat Balor. We all know he has designs on the whole continent." He turned away for a moment, then focused his gaze on her. "But they may not know of your father's . . . assassination."

She sat upright. "They don't know!" She pressed her hand to her breast, a baffled expression on her face. "How could they not?"

"Trade caravans can't get through because of brigands that prowl the trade routes. Possibly Balor has lied to the ambassadors from other countries on the continent. No doubt he's told them of King Tencien's death due to
natural
causes
."

"The fiend!"

"My thoughts exactly, princess. Within the next nineday, I intend to journey to Elegia, convince King Barzad that Balor has killed your father and usurped the throne."

"Major, you must." She eased back. "To think he doesn't know the truth!" She sighed. “If only I could go with you, I would, but if there is any way I can help cure the chief’s daughter, then it is better for me to stay here. I would want to do help her anyway, for the child’s sake, but in addition, it is important that we gain the outlanders’ goodwill.”

Roric stretched one leg out. "I'll do my best to convince him otherwise. But we can't fight the tyrant Balor until spring, at the earliest."

She nodded.
"When
we overthrow Balor, you should persuade these outlanders to help defeat him. The main reason why I should stay here.”

"You’ve got a good point there. And as for their aid, I've already thought about that. They have a weapon--they call it a sling--"

"Yes!" Enthusiasm brightened her face. "I've seen them with it."

"Looks easy to use. I can see them employing this weapon in battle."

"A battle." She shook her head in helpless confusion. "We have no army, nothing to match Balor's manpower." She stared at the embers, then slowly switched her gaze back to him. "Surely by now there is much discontent among the soldiers. I've heard that they're confined to their barracks for many moonphases, never allowed to visit their families. I've heard, too, that Balor has promoted his friends and overlooked the more deserving soldiers.”

He grimaced. "His political friends who know nothing of fighting, can't even handle a damn sword!” He bit his lip. “Pardon my language, madam.”

"I feel the same way, major. And by now, the soldiers must be ready to revolt." She aimed a level gaze at him. "Don't you agree?"

He nodded, hoping to inject confidence in his voice, an assurance he was far from feeling. "There is much we can build on, and I intend to work on this in the coming moonphases--making contact with any of these soldiers I commanded in the past . . . if I can."

"You're taking a big chance, major. You risk capture again. If you
are
captured . . ."

"Let us talk about something else, madam." He stared around her habitation, at the paintings on the wall. "Do you keep busy here? I know idleness never suited you."

"Ah, yes." She twisted around to indicate a series of limestone shelves behind her. "You see these pottery jars? The women here have been helping me prepare dried vegetables and herbs for the coming winter." She nodded. "I do keep busy."

The cave grew colder, prompting her to wrap her robe tighter around her and stir the embers with a stick. The flames leaped, the cave brighter now.

"Do you mind if I ask you about your wife?" she said, catching him by surprise. "She died several years ago? Please," she said with a wave of her hand, "perhaps I'm being too inquisitive. If so, forgive my questions."

"Not at all, princess." He thought for a moment, stifling painful memories that still clutched at his heart. "She died in childbirth. Soon after, my son sickened and died.”

"Ah, Goddess! How . . . how did your wife die?"

"She bled to death." He bowed his head as conflicting thoughts raged through his mind. "A witch delivered the baby. I've always blamed their deaths on sorcery. Now, I don't know." Roric thought about Radegunda and the magic spell she'd employed to save the princess. Had he been mistaken about witchcraft all these years? He must reconsider his fears of magic, but he dared not express an opinion, since the craft was outlawed in the kingdom.

"I had a cousin who bled to death in childbirth." Keriam's voice was soft and low. "Perhaps it's not that uncommon, as tragic as it is for the family."

She scraped a stick back and forth on the floor. "When I gain the throne--"

"And you will."

Keriam gave him that heartwarming smile that made him long to take her in his arms. "When I gain the throne, I intend to establish a tribunal of druids who will issue rulings on witchcraft. We both know there are those who practice evil bewitchment," she said, reminding him of Aradia, "and they must not be permitted to practice their wicked craft. But it's just as true that witches can do much good. We should encourage them in their endeavors."

She glanced at him from under her eyelashes. "Perhaps this is the time for confessions."

"Confessions, madam?"

"I must tell you that I have preternatural powers, but I don't practice witchcraft," she said quickly. “However, I've always feared people might mistake my powers for that very thing. For one thing, I can spirit travel--"

"Then it
was
you I saw when I returned to the palace at night, several moonphases ago."

"Yes, I was spying on Aradia. I saw her . . . saw her change into a jackal."

"Ah! I'd heard about that sorceress, about her shapeshifting." He paused. "Something I've wanted to tell you for the longest time--Aradia was your father's assassin, so--"

”Goddess!” She tilted her head at him. “I suspected her all along, but how do you know it was Aradia?”

He told her about discovering the dress and arrow the night of the assassination. "No doubt in my mind. Balor and Aradia conspired to murder your father. May they both rot in the Underworld!"

She covered her face with her hands. "If only I could have prevented my father's death! If I could have stopped them in time . . ."

"Madam, you did everything possible. No one could have done more," he said, expressing his own regrets, hoping to alleviate hers.

"Aradia is dead now, either from the plague or killed by a guard. I've heard different stories.” Her expression hardened. “And you know what? I’m glad she’s dead! My only regret is I didn’t kill her first!”

“I should have killed her long ago!” He broke a stick in his hands, a vein throbbing at his temple.
Damn the bitch!

Silent moments passed, a time when Roric wanted to give her the comfort he knew she longed for. She had borne her burdens herself for far too long. Ah, to hold her close, kiss those lips, make love . . .These longings will get you nowhere, he lamented, for she is so far above you. "I have to learn to get past my father's murder,” she said. “Better to think about getting rid of Balor and returning to Emain Macha.” She fixed him with a level gaze. “But I wanted to say something else about my abilities. Several moonphases ago, I saw you with other officers by the meadow--"

"No wonder you thought I plotted against the king! But you understand now--"

"I understand you only pretended to take part in the plot. Actually, major, I came to that conclusion a long time ago. It was only that I resented--very much--your serving Balor. But I see now that was for the best. If you hadn't resided in the palace and served Balor, Conneid Delbraith would never have escaped." She spoke in a rush of words then, explaining her "accidental" meeting with him in the capital long ago. She told him how her emotions often get the best of her, "as when your mug broke in the tavern," she said, finally clarifying so many things he'd puzzled over for a long time.

"I must learn to control my talents." Keriam bit her lower lip. "Perhaps curses is a better word. I often wish I didn't have these abilities."

"But they have served you in good stead." Seeing the fire dying, he reached to a pile of logs behind him and placed another one on the fire. The flames wavered and caught, then increased again.

“When I am queen, I shall rule that good magic be permitted in the kingdom.”

When Keriam is queen, he repeated to himself, determined to do all in his power to make it happen. And then what? Would he be able to attend her, even if she needed his help? He wondered how he could bear to see her day after day, to know that she ranked so far above him, to see her marry another. If she required his services, he had no choice but to stay, if only he could bear seeing her day after day, longing for her so. Otherwise, he'd leave her, return to visit his family in Mumhain and later become a mercenary.