Page 46 of Chained Knight

Two deeply conflicting urges, fighting over one lone, very confused woman. And right on time, the fact of the goddamndreams reared its ugly head. Brothers Grimm had never coveredthisnonsense; Lord Dunsany might’ve but Ari had moved away from literature and into visual arts before she got to him.

“I…” Words failed her. Before she could find another way to stick her foot in her mouth, though, a new voice rang from the far, shadowed end of the pavilion.

“By silver, there are equines.” A figure in midnight-blue velvet, the skirt hemmed higher than Hannixe’s—mid-shin, instead of ankle—and a pair of glove-soft indigo leather boots moving underneath, resolved out of flickering gloom. Hazel eyes, thickly lashed, peered at the blue flame; a flash of mahogany skin showed, and very white teeth. “And… no. It cannot… it is. You…”

The woman halted, her skirts swirling for a moment. One hand flew to her mouth, the backs of the fingers touching her lips, a gesture familiar from time spent with Hannixe. A complex mass of dark braids wrapped in a coronet about her head, the rest pouring behind her shoulders, nearly to her knees. She made a soft, inarticulate sound, then flew across the intervening space, bursting into the rapidly expanding sphere of foxfire-blue illumination.

The new arrival flung her arms about Ari just as the Grey Lady had, hugging breathlessly tight. “No,” she chanted, in a clear soft soprano. “No, no no. Oh, no. Oh, my lady, my lady. I knew you would not leave us, not forever. Oh, by silver, by silver and Moon, my lady…”

Then she burst into tears, laughing at the same time. Ari, her wrist caught in gauntlet-fingers and the rest of her nearly crushed in a stranger’s arms, tried patting the young woman’s back with her free hand.

This, then, was Leshe, and she treated Hannixe to a furiously tight embrace as well. The two women looked vaguely similar, just as the men all did—something in the shape of their cheekbones and large beautiful eyes, not to mention the vibrant velvet of their flawless skin.

Ari was feeling distinctly outclassed, but that was nothing new.

“It has been so long,” Leshe said, dashing at her tear-spotted cheeks with quick butterfly motions. “And there are terrible things in the woods, it has all changed. You!” She spotted Sarle next, and made a beeline for him, running toe-first like a ballerina temporarily brought to earth. “I have not seen you for mortal ages, but the Moon returned a few nights ago and I thought you would visit at last.”

“Forgive me, I could not arrive earlier.” The stocky man opened his arms for a hug; a gleam on his own stubbled cheek was lost as he hunched to rest his forehead against hers. “Perhaps what I bring will grant me some lee.”

“Silly.” Her motion stilled for a few moments, and the young woman took a deep breath. “I would forgive you just for appearing. It has been a little lonely, with no-one to talk to save Keners every once in a while. And is there an equine for me?”

“Soft, little sister. All in good time.” Sarle held her shoulders; the two of them made another Pre-Raphaelite illustration lit with blue glow, pale columns shimmering gently in the background, Majan and Darjeth to one side, Jazarl on the other holding something to an equine’s sensitive nose, palm and fingers flat as the beast nibbled at a treat.

Leshe’s greetings to the others were more restrained, but with everyone grinning so broadly it was a happy picture indeed. Ari’s cheeks felt strange; she hadn’t smiled like this for a long while. Sure, she wasn’t one of them, but anyone could feel happy for other people’s joy.

The chained man’s shadow nearly swallowed hers, since he loomed at her shoulder. Spiked and sharp that darkness hovered, and hers had an odd refraction at its heart, a soft silver glimmer. It could have been the blue flame catching a stray gleam from his armor or a piece of tack, but the white-gemmed necklace hidden under Ari’s cloak pulsed again, its warmth spreading in hazy rings.

Finally, Leshe turned away from Naithor and hurried back over glowing marble, heedless-quick. “I hid the Cup,” she said, nearly skidding to a stop, her dark hair swaying. “But when the Moon rose again, I retrieved it. We are going to the Mere, yes? And then that awful Ternek?—”

“Do not speak that name.” Sharp and swift, the chained man’s command made the blue flame waver for a moment, flattening in its bowl. “Our lady queen requires rest. There is clean water for you, and you may make merry as you please with the other companions—but softly, and do not mention the faithless accursed so lightly. You are granted much since our lady finds your antics amusing, but blasphemy I will not brook.”

So that was indeed the Bright King’s name—Ari vaguely remembered a previous mention. She bookmarked the fact with careful mental effort, a curious momentary chill slipping down her back.

Leshe turned somber, nodded swiftly, and sank into a twin of Hannixe’s curtsey. “Your pardon, my lord prince. I am simply so happy.” Her hazel gaze turned to Ari, and a tremulous smile bloomed afresh. “I am sorry, my queen. I would not cause you pain for anything.”

“No need.” Now Ari was repeating the chained man’s phrasing, and she almost flinched at the echo; the Carcanet pulsed again. She quelled the urge to take a step sideways, putting herself between him and Leshe; it probably wouldn’t end well. “Really. Everything’s all right.”

“Your accent is strange.” Leshe cocked her graceful, braid-crowned head. “But your eyes are the same, and… yes, youfeelthe same, as well. Here.” Her hands rose, graceful birds, and when they parted a bright star flamed for a moment, snuffed almost as soon as it was born. “See? I guarded it well, my lady, as I was bid.”

She had produced a cup of dark wood—a goblet, similar in shape to the two at Hannixe’s house and the carved fire-bowl. Its sides were satin-smooth, but along the rim a thin line of silver seemed to flow in a lazy circle.

No, the silverwasmoving. Ari stared at the slight motion, trying to decide if her eyes were fooled by the blue light or by Leshe’s moving closer, toes pointed out and her steps soundless-soft.

The young woman offered her treasure with both hands, and Ari took the cup. Warm as the Carcanet, carved wood nearly alive against her touch, stretching under her fingertips like a cat enjoying its beloved human’s petting.

The rim gave another flash, silver flaring with pale fire. Ari nearly dropped the thing, and the chained man’s warmth touched her shoulder as he leaned close.

“And so.” Soft, and intimate. “Doubt yourself if you wish, my lady Ariadne. But do not expect us to do the same.”

25

BLUE LIGHT, RED BLOOD

The equines’saddle-blankets were thin but surprisingly cushiony, and the stone floor merely chill instead of outright cold. Ari expected to have trouble relaxing, but the moment she stretched out, her head pillowed on her arm and Hannixe drawing the pale mantle over her, the world vanished.

Eyes bulging and her tongue clumsy-swollen, lungs burning, the need for oxygen blotting out even the pain as hesqueezed, Ari’s chapped lips twitching.

Please, Mike, please don’t.The words dammed up in her chest, the horrible silence broken only by his panting breaths. An equally terrible warm looseness near her crotch—had she peed herself?

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