Dangerous Talents (38 page)

Cele’s heart stuttered at the thought of traveling blind. “I won’t tell them how to find you.”

“Thank you, my lady, but Neven has Truth-sayers, and I will not put you at risk with too much knowledge. You can honestly say you could see nothing of where you were taken or the way you returned. And don’t suffer Neven’s anger for my sake if he tries to force you to Find this place. Do as he asks. I’ll move on as soon as you depart. He’ll not be able to track me.” His hand tarried on Cele’s arm above her elbow. “Please, be careful.”

She felt the warmth of his touch even through the cloak, and the low, rich caress of Jorund’s voice calmed her. If what he’d said was true, returning to Quartzholm could be dangerous, but if she was going to make it home, Jorund needed the Staff. His story was certainly compelling.
And there’s no doubting the truth of his face
.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He left her to speak in low tones with a man he called from the tunnel. By his curt hand movements, it looked as though Jorund was giving the man very specific instructions. He was obviously used to being obeyed.
It must have galled him terribly to have lost to Neven
.

Jorund and the other man returned together. “This is Asolf. He’ll take you to a place where you’ll be found by those searching for you. When you’ve found the Staff, drop a note down the shaft in the bath. Do not try to retrieve it yourself. That will be another’s task. When all is in readiness, I’ll contact you.” He touched her chin with one fingertip and smiled. “Keep thinking of home.” Then he held out a black hood.

Reluctantly, Cele put it on. She could always take it off later, when she was well away.

Suddenly her hand was grasped by a hard, calloused one.

“Let’s go,” Asolf growled.

The trip through the dark was nothing like the one with Dahleven. Asolf moved briskly and took little care that Cele couldn’t see. She stumbled more than once before she thought they’d gone far enough to risk taking off the hood.

The way she walked must have changed and alerted her escort. He looked back almost immediately. “Put that back on!”

Asolf didn’t look as if he’d tolerate any disagreement. Cele did as she was told.

He grabbed her hand again and dragged her down the corridor. Cele used her other hand to lift the hems of her robe and Jorund’s cloak.

Many twists and turns and minutes later, Asolf dropped her hand. “You can take off the hood now.”

Cele did, and blinked in the light from the lantern that he’d put on the floor.

“You’re to give me the cloak.” He reached to take it.

Cele stepped back, out of his reach, and unfastened the cloak herself. Asolf snatched it out of her hand and turned on his heel.

Fear flared. “Wait! Aren’t you going to leave me a light?”

“And how would you explain it to your rescuers?” Asolf sneered, then he left.

Soon the darkness and the silence were complete. Minutes crept by with no way for her to gauge their passing.

Someone will come looking for me. Eventually
.

How long had she been missing? How long had she been waiting? Even if people were searching for her, how would they know where to look? Jorund seemed confident that someone would discover her, but there were miles and miles of tunnels cutting through the mountains.

Maybe I can Find my way out of here
.

She clutched her robe shut with shaking hands and concentrated. She wanted to be back in her room, warm and safe. The feeling came quick and easy this time. Cele knew with absolute certainty that her room was above her, to her left, and quite some distance away.
That’s a big help
.

The best she could do would be to take the tunnels that tended in that general direction. Or she could stay put and wait for the searchers to find her. Cele put a hand on the wall and started to walk.

It was only a few minutes before she saw a glimmering around a bend in the tunnel.

Relief zinged through her like a jolt of electricity. “Here! I’m here!” She hurried toward the flickering lantern light.

A man came limping into view, a twisted grin on his face and a sword in his hand.

Terror stopped her breath.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” Harve asked.

Cele turned and ran.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“What did the skald say?” Ragni asked Dahleven, pouring ale.

They were in Dahleven’s rooms. After Dahleven had finished with Neven, Ragni had persuaded him that word of Celia would reach him quickest if he stayed where the guards could find him.

Neven had assigned Dahleven the task of organizing increased security throughout Quartzholm against spies and assassins. The job had required several hours of close conference with the Warden of the Guard, and all his attention. Now he had nothing to do but wait. Dahleven didn’t like remaining idle, and he paced across the room. The search was taking far too long.

“Nothing of much use. ‘Our enemy is among us.’ ‘Change brings danger.’ ‘Harmony will be achieved.’ The usual dung.” Dahleven looked closely at his brother. Ragni wasn’t asking just to distract him. “Why?”

“When I passed him at the door, I felt something strange from him. Not deception, exactly. Something more like…amusement.”

“Maybe he didn’t like Jon any better than we did,” Dahleven suggested, pacing back across the room to stand in front of his brother.

“Probably not,” Ragni agreed. “But that’s not quite what I felt.”

Dahleven cocked an eyebrow at his brother, but a knock forestalled his question. “Enter!”

It was Fender. “We’ve found her, my lord. They’re taking her to her room.”

Relief flared in Dahleven’s breast like a torch, along with the need to see her safe with his own eyes. He pushed by Fendrikanin on his way out of the room, with Ragni only a step behind. “What took so long?” he demanded.

Fender continued his report on the move. “The Trackers only just picked up her trail, my lord. It started up clean at a nexus of tunnels. Before that they couldn’t find a thing.”

Fender hesitated and went on. “She’s in bad shape. Exhausted. Apparently, she tried to Find her way out of the tunnels after she escaped from her captor. We gave her some
sterkkidrikk
, though, so she’s safe, even if she’s spent.”

“Well done,” Dahleven said.

Fender cleared his throat. “My lord…”

The younger man’s awkward pause caught Dahleven’s attention. He stopped and looked at him, demanding an answer with his eyes. “And?”

Fender met Dahleven’s stare briefly, then looked past his shoulder as he went on. The younger man’s mouth was tight with emotion. “She hasn’t said much, about what happened. But her robe is torn and…she’s bruised…”

Dahleven’s gut twisted.

Ragni put a hand on his shoulder.

Dahleven turned and stalked down the hall. Whatever had happened had happened. There was nothing he could do to change that. Just as he couldn’t change the fact that he’d failed to keep her safe, despite posting a guard. “I’m going to kill Jeger.”

*

Cele opened her eyes on near dark, and for an instant she thought she was still in the tunnels, listening for Harve to pounce on her. She jerked as a hand touched her shoulder.

“You’re safe,” a familiar deep voice said from very close.

“Dahleven?” Cele asked, clasping his hand with her own.

The light grew, the wick turned up on the wall lamp by Thora, who said, “You gave us quite a scare, my lady.”

“Leave us,” Dahleven said.

Thora balked. “My lord!”

“Thora, leave us—please.”

Thora still hesitated and Dahleven turned to Cele. His face was half shadowed, but she heard the hesitation in his voice. “Do you will it? That she go?”

Dahleven’s question surprised her, but not as much as the tone of his voice. He sounded worried, tentative.
What could he have to say that he wouldn’t want Thora to hear
? She’d spent too much time uncomfortably alone with men lately, but she had no reservations about Dahleven. Whatever he had to say, he could say it in private if that’s what he wanted. “It’s all right, Thora. Only…”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Could you send food? Enough for two, please.”

“I’ll see to it.” Thora smiled at her, then glowered at Dahleven as she sailed out the door.

Cele was nude under the sheets again, but warm. She didn’t remember much about returning to her room. She’d tried to Find her way back, but the tunnels kept veering off in the wrong direction, away from where she wanted to go. Crushing fatigue had nearly brought her to her knees, but the fear that Harve would catch her kept her going. She’d still been stumbling forward when she’d heard the footsteps of the search party echoing in the dark. At first she’d thought it was Harve, and she’d drawn back as the light of the lantern fell on her. Then she’d recognized Fender’s voice and collapsed from relief. After that, her rescuers made her drink that vile, sweet liquid. She vaguely remembered being carried before she passed out.

Now here she was talking to Dahleven while wearing even less than she had during her interview with Jorund. At the thought of the Outcast lord, Cele looked away from Dahleven, unable to meet his eyes. She couldn’t tell him about Jorund. Jorund probably hadn’t told her everything, but what he had told her was very convincing. And the Outcast Jarl was the only one offering a way home. She couldn’t risk that by saying too much to Neven’s son. Dahleven would have to tell the Kon. She couldn’t expect Dahleven to take sides against his own father.

“You needn’t turn away. I deserve your censure.” Dahleven said in a voice full of sorrow.

Cele’s gaze snapped back to him, surprised. His face was rigid, but his eyes were full of grief. “What are you talking about? I’m not angry.”

Dahleven’s brows drew downward. “I let you be taken. My guards failed to keep you safe. How could you not blame me for…for what you endured?”

“Dahleven!” She couldn’t talk lying down like this. She struggled to sit up, holding the covers up against her chest, wincing as her sore muscles protested.
I can’t tell him it was probably his own father’s men who took me, not without betraying Jorund
. “What were you supposed to do? Send a guard in to wash my back for me? You can’t think of everything.”

“I’m
supposed
to think of everything!” Dahleven stood and took a step away from the bed before turning and spreading his hands. “I can’t keep my people safe if I don’t. As I’ve proven far too often, of late.” His hands clenched.

“Stop it! That’s your grief talking. If Sorn were here, I bet he wouldn’t let you get away with that crap. You can’t anticipate everything. You can only do your best and learn from your mistakes.”

“I have a lot to learn from, don’t I?” Dahleven’s voice was bitter and angry. “And what do you know of what Sorn would say? He’d be the first to condemn me for letting you be kidnapped and raped.”

“Raped!”

Dahleven knelt beside the bed and took her hand in both of his. “I’m so sorry, Celia. I—”

“I wasn’t raped. I got away.”

“But…”

Her voice was as firm as she knew how to make it, even as the memory of the men’s hands on her made her shiver. “I got away.”

Dahleven sat on the edge of the bed, cradling her shoulders with a gentle touch, searching her face with anxious, hopeful eyes.

She couldn’t let Dahleven carry the responsibility and the guilt for something that hadn’t quite happened. “I’m okay.”

Dahleven groaned and pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed his arms around her. She melted into the warmth of his embrace with a sigh and let go her hold on the covers to pull him closer.

She felt safe and protected, nestled against the hard muscle of his body, wrapped in his strong arms. Nothing could hurt her. Not Mord or Orlyg or Harve. A flash of terror swept over her and a sob escaped her throat. She blinked away tears.
What’s the matter with me? I escaped
! But the tears wouldn’t stop and she shook with uneven, shuddering breaths.

*

Dahleven swallowed hard on the lump of anguish in his throat as he felt her tremble in his arms. He couldn’t believe her words. He’d ordered Ghav to tell him about her injuries. He knew about the bruises on her arms and breast and back, the scratches on her thigh. Those, combined with her torn robe and how she clung to him now—weeping with great racking sobs—told him all he needed to know of what had happened.

He wanted to kill whoever had done this to her, and crawl into a pit for letting it happen.

But at the moment there was nothing he could do but hold her. He stroked her silky hair and rubbed her bare back, murmuring whatever he could think of to comfort and reassure her. “You’re safe now. I’ll never let you be harmed again. Be still. You’re safe.”

Gradually her breathing eased. She sniffed and hiccupped, pulled a hand from his back to wipe her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

He forced a tight smile. “I’d be surprised if you did not weep.”

Celia held the sheets to cover her breasts as she pulled back to glance up at him, then she looked away again as if embarrassed. “It
was
a little traumatic.”

Dahleven’s chest constricted. He lifted her chin with one finger so he could look her in the eyes. “You have no need of shame, my lady. That is all mine.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. Her lips pressed together.

He recognized that look of exasperation. He’d seen it on his sisters’ faces often enough.

“Do I have to knock you upside the head to get you to believe me? Read my lips. I wasn’t raped. I. Got. Away.” And then she kissed him.

The touch of her soft lips and tongue made him instantly hard. He didn’t believe her words, but her body…Celia pressed herself into his arms freely, without reservation. Could she have been raped and still forgive him? Still want him? Dahleven leaned back just enough to search her face. He saw no shame or fear there, just desire. Relief jumped in his veins. He kissed her back with all the joy flooding his body. She’d been through an ordeal, but at least she hadn’t suffered that. She would be worth no less in his eyes if she had, but rape was a violation he was beyond glad she’d been spared.