His Enchantment (21 page)

“It doesna look like a comfortable position,” he said.

Her body stiffened, but she didn’t look up. “I am nae trying to sleep.”

Far from put off by her sharp tone, he sat next to her, winced as his exhausted body settled against cold stone, tugged up his cape against the cool gust of wind, and stared out over the land. “You ponder your aunt’s betrayal and worry about what we will discover in the caves.”

“Go away.”

Somber, he looked over.

Wind tugged at her braid, and she kept her head down.

How he wished she would open up to him, but however frustrating, the choice must be hers. “Do you truly want me to leave you alone?”

A tumble of wind-laden snow rushed past.

“Catarine?”

“Nay,” she replied, frustration lacing her voice. Lifting her head, she glanced over. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to know that if you need to speak with someone, I am here.”

In the wisps of newborn light, a sad smile touched her mouth. “I know you are there for me now, but ’tis too easy to turn to you. A fact of late I find myself doing without thinking.” She paused. “A much as I wish otherwise, Trálin, ’tis dangerous to allow myself to weaken when it comes to you. The reason I came here to think.”

Anger brewed within, grew. “Turning to me is nae a weakness.”

“Is it nae? I am a princess, a person who others seek for protection and guidance.”

“Turning to me is a sign of trust, natural between friends.”

She gave a rough laugh. “Friends, is it? A fool, I thought after what we shared, ’twas more.”

“You know what I mean.”

She gave a heavy sigh. “I do indeed. Sorry I am that our choices can nae be different.”

“As am I.”

Silence fell between them, thick with the passage of time, time that offered naught but loneliness ahead. However wrong, with each passing moment, he wanted her more.

Wanted her forever.

Shaken by the emotions she inspired, he stared east, toward where the sky held hints of dark purple, evidence of the coming dawn. With the dangerous confrontation that lay ahead, it was a fact he needed to focus on.

“There is something I must tell you that only those within the royal family know,” Catarine said, her words trembling.

“What is it?” he asked.

“If during our confrontation, something were to happen to me—”

He stiffened. “It willna.”

“Willna?” she repeated with a shake of her head. “Neither of us can say when it is our time.”

Bedamned. The thought of anything happening to her tore him apart.

“Listen to me,” she urged, “’tis important that you know.”

Unsettled by the graveness of her voice, Trálin remained silent.

She took a deep breath, exhaled. “During my youth, as he did with each of my siblings, my father hand-selected each of the fey warriors to protect me. Before each man began his service, he swore an oath to keep me safe, even at the risk of his life.”

“A common enough request,” Trálin said, unsure where this was leading.

“Aye, except once each swore their oath, my father gave each warrior one of five different gemstones, which they wear around their neck.”

“Why?”

Warmth of the memories of that special moment as she’d watched each of her fey warriors receive their pendant filled her. “Each gemstone holds a strength to aid the wearer. There is only one moss agate, which holds the ability to make warriors powerful and shield them from those who would bring them harm. This my father bestowed to Atair.”

“Which makes sense as he is the senior fey warrior.”

“Aye,” she agreed. “The other gemstones are the azurite, which helps to control over your emotions and reactions, and to give the wearer greater insight. This he presented to Drax. The magnesite, to guide one’s emotional fate, is held by Ranulf. The malachite, which promotes inner peace, was given to both Magnus and Kuircc. And the sapphire, known for its powers of prophecy and wisdom, was granted to Sionn. The sapphire is also called the stone of destiny, because of its ability to aid the wearer in clarity of mind for those who seek the truth.”

“The stone of destiny?” he asked.

“You do nae believe in the power of the stones?”

“The Scots believe in many things which from other cultures draw skepticism.”

Catarine hesitated. “You mean things which they deem witchcraft?”

“Aye.”

“As your belief in the fey?”

In the first rays of morning light peeked over the land, a smile tugged at his mouth. “Indeed.”

Warmth tumbled through her. She would miss her time with Trálin. “As for the stones,” she said, turning the discussion back to where she started, to where it needed to be. “The power each gemstone holds bolsters an inherent weakness of whoever wears it.”

Trálin’s brows raised with surprise.

“Except, the stones have one more purpose,” she continued, however hard to contemplate, needing to explain. “If ever I am attacked and my fey warriors find they canna protect me, they have one last responsibility.”

Worried eyes searched hers. “What is that?”

Emotions stormed her, and she struggled to speak the words.

“Catarine, tell me.”

A shiver swept through her. “If I am in danger, the fey warriors will remove their gemstones and place them together. When the stones touch, their power merges. In a trice they explode and release a surge of focused energy directed on the threat.”

“God in heaven,” Trálin hissed, then stilled. “With three of the warriors away, if needed, you do nae have the full impact of their power to protect you!”

“I know, but each gemstone alone is very lethal. And each one added increases the power of the energy. But . . .”

“But?”

“To save me,” she rasped, aching at the thought, “each fey warrior who adds their gemstone to the group offers the ultimate sacrifice—his life.”

Stunned, Trálin stared at Catarine as she sat beside him as the soft light of dawn caressed her face. “Each fey warrior who places his stone with the others to protect you dies?”

She gave a shaky nod.

In the fragile rays sweeping the land, Trálin caught the fear in her eyes. Now he understood her abrupt departure from where the men had gathered moments before. “You wished to be alone, because you are afraid for your warriors’ lives.”

“Aye.”

“God, lass.” Wind spun around them, tossed loose snow past in a whispered hush as he lay his hand over hers. However much he wished to draw her near, with her men in sight, he’d nae dishonor her. “I pray ’tis unnecessary for your warriors to merge their gemstones.”

Tortured eyes met his. “My thanks.”

He removed his hand, frustrated he could offer her nay more than words. Neither would he assure her that her men would survive. Well a warrior knew the risks made to defend those they served.

Still, how could she nae struggle with the possible loss of men who she looked upon as brothers? In the short time he’d spent with her fey warriors, he’d gained immense respect for each man.

“Catarine, if the warriors are forced to combine their gemstones, with how powerful you believe your aunt has become, do you think ’twill be enough to stop her?”

“I must have faith ’tis possible.”

But he heard what she didna dare say. Even if her men sacrificed their lives, it guaranteed naught. “And if we do nae stop her, how would you reach your father?”

Her breath fell out in a rough wobble. “If you are dead, I—I will find a way to return to the Otherworld.”

Aye she would, alone, upset, and exhausted. Unsure what to say, he glanced toward the sky.

Streaks of dawn crept brighter across the sky. The purple rays held a hint of gold, like a promise.

And he hoped ’twas a positive omen.

Catarine stiffened. “Trálin, the English knight is preparing to leave.”

Irritated at becoming caught up in his thoughts and nae on their mission, he peered through the breaks in the rocks.

In the distance, the man they’d followed from the inn knelt, then began to roll his blanket.

“I see no sign of anyone else hidden nearby,” she said.

He scanned the area. “I see naught as well, but the remaining shadows and the rough lay of land along with errant shrubs provides an excellent place for men to hide.”

“They do,” she agreed. “As much as I wish to wait for the sun to fully rise, if we linger, he will be gone. We must catch him now.”

“Aye.” Trálin kept low as he headed back to camp.

A short while later, with the men informed and everyone having moved to their planned location, Trálin peered through the rocks above the ledge.

With stiff movements, the English knight secured the saddle roll on his horse.

Thank God Princess Elspeth’s man hadn’t heard their approach, nor seemed to be in a hurry. Trálin stood as he motioned for his men to surround the English knight. Stones clattered as he and the other warriors stepped into the clearing.

One hand reaching for his mount’s halter, the English knight whirled. The horse snorted, stepped sideways as the man withdrew his blade and faced Lord Grey. “What do you want?”

“Information.” Sword drawn, Trálin walked closer as Catarine and the others encircled the knight, their blades readied.

His eyes wary, the Englishman backed closer to his mount. “Who are you?”

“Who did you meet at the inn?” Trálin demanded.

Shock, then fear rolled through the man’s expression.

“’Tis a woman of great magic, is it nae?” Catarine asked as she stepped to Trálin’s side. “One nae from this world.”

The Englishman’s face blanched. “The woman you met and left with at the inn is Princess Elspeth,” she stated.

Eyes darting from her to the surrounding warriors, the Englishman began to tremble. “I can reveal naught.”

Trálin raised his sword. “You will.”

“The gemstone at his neck!” Catarine warned, “’Tis beginning to glow!”

On a cry of pain, the Englishman’s face turned a ruddy shade of red. He gasped for air as he clutched the stone, tugged. His sword fell the ground with a clatter.

Blast it! Trálin ran to the Englishman, reached for the gemstone.

“Do nae touch the stone while it is glowing!” Catarine yelled.

He ignored her warning. They could nae lose this man before they had information! Trálin reached for the gemstone caught between the man’s fingers as he worked to tear it free. Lord Grey’s fingers brushed against the smoothed glowing gem. Waves of energy built around him, doubled. Shattered.

Wind rushed around Trálin as he was thrown back, slammed against the earth. His vision blurry, and with his muscles aching, he looked up.

The slap of footsteps increased, halted. Worried eyes studied him as Catarine knelt beside him. “Are you hurt?”

Trálin touched his head as he fought to focus. “It feels as if a mace was driven through my skull, but otherwise, I am fine.” He sat, then on shaky legs, pushed himself to his feet as she stood with him. “What bloody happened?”

“Nay time to explain.” Catarine turned to their men. “Everyone back! I am going to try to intercept the connection.”

At her command, Drax and Kuircc released the Englishman as he fought to tear the gemstone free. They along with the Scottish knights ran for cover.

Head pounding, unsure what in Hades was going on, Trálin stepped toward her.

Anger swept Catarine’s face. “Trálin, get back, now!”

“Lord Grey, move!” Drax yelled.

Furious that in some way she was endangering her life, he hesitated. However much he wanted to protect her, he must trust she knew what she was doing. Cursing the entire situation, Trálin sprinted around a nearby rock, peered above.

Eyes focused, Catarine reached toward the sky, started to sway back and forth in a lyrical dance.

A keening cry filled the air.

Wind swirled around her and the man. Leaves and snow were swept up in the fierce spiral, tossed away as fast. Her hair flowing in the torrent, wild as if a gypsy, she reached for the Englishman’s gemstone.

As her hand clasped it, her eyes widened in stunned surprise, then pain. The veins on her face throbbed. Smoke, thick and grey belched around her and the knight. A roar filled the air, and the haze began to thicken around them both, erasing them from view.

Bedamned. He’d nae let her die. They’d find her aunt without the English knight’s bloody help! Trálin stood.

“Get back!” Drax yelled.

Like bloody Hades!
Trálin ran.

An explosion rattled the air.

Reverberations slammed him to the ground. A grey-black haze churned before him as he shoved to his feet. The stench of flesh burned his nostrils as he staggered through the putrid swirl.

“Catarine!” he yelled, fear for her life tearing through him. “Catarine!”

Her cough echoed several paces away. “Here.”

Thank God! Two more steps through the rancorous muck and he caught her outline and the image of the dead knight nearby. “What were you thinking?” he demanded as he knelt beside her, caught her shoulders to help her sit, wanting to shake her for taking such a risk.

“That we n-needed answers.”

The morning light cutting through the murky grey exposed the ash smudging her face and the fear in her eyes.

Trálin’s anger fell away. By God, he’d come so close to losing her. “We needed answers, aye, but nae at the risk of your life.”

Pain-filled eyes narrowed. “And would you nae have risked the same if given the situation?”

His mouth tightened.

“Aye, you would have,” she said before he could speak. “’Tis no different.

However much he wished to argue, she was right. “You never mentioned how dangerous it is to touch the gemstone.”

“There was no need before,” she replied.

Memories flickered in his mind and he understood. “And the reason you tossed the gemstone over the wall as well as placed it on the English knight’s neck using the tie?”

“Aye.”

Footsteps echoed behind him as he stood, reached down to help her.

She gave him a weak smile, then set her hand in his. “My thanks, Lord Grey.”

He helped her up, pushed her wild, soot-laced locks from her face. “Thank God you are okay.”

“Catarine?” Drax called from within the blur of smoke.

“Here,” she replied as she moved away from Trálin.

Her fey warriors stepped into view. Panicked eyes scoured her, then relaxed to concern.

“What did you learn?” Drax asked.

“When I touched the stone,” she replied, “for a moment I sensed Princess Elspeth’s power, caught a glimpse of her.”

Kuircc’s face grew taut. “Did she see you?”

Catarine hesitated, then nodded.

“Blast it,” Drax muttered. “Is there anything else we need to know?”

“As we suspected, she is still in the cave. With our connection but a trice, thankfully, she has no idea exactly where I am, except she believes I am closing in on her location.”

Trálin crossed his arms over his chest. “We still have the element of surprise. But, we have a day, two at most, to find her. After that, she will be expecting us. But, to slip inside the caves will be dangerous.”

Worry darkened Catarine’s eyes. “Now, she will have the entrance and throughout the cave well-guarded. But she has nae left. I will be thankful for that.”

“We will stop her,” Kuircc said.

Or die trying, Trálin silently agreed. He took in the dead English knight and grimaced. The man’s face was frozen in pain, hard lines dredged in terror, a gruesome expression like the two men before who’d died a cruel death.

In the wisps of smoke sifting through the early morning light, sadness touched her face. “Like the others who wore the gemstone, he was innocent of treachery, naught but a pawn in Princess Elspeth’s twisted game.”

A gust of wind whipped past, delivering a welcome breath of fresh air. A glint from the English knight’s dagger lying on the ground nearby caught Trálin’s attention. He picked it up, stilled.

“What is wrong?” Catarine asked.

Intrigued, Trálin studied the blade. “Whoever made this weapon has a fine hand. And, ’tis crafted of silver.” He turned the dagger in his hand, frowned. “There is an inscription carved on the side, but ’tis in a language I have never seen.”

A concerned look passed between Catarine and Drax. “Let me look at it.”

Lord Grey laid it in her palm.

As Catarine read the inscription emblazoned in the blade, lifted her gaze to his. “’Tis written in fey.”

“What does it say?” Kuircc asked.

“Knight of The Silver Dagger.” The blade trembled in her hand.

“’Twould seem Princess Elspeth has done more than gather men, but has created an elite force to assassinate the royal family.”

Kuircc cursed.

“Nor would I dare touch the tip,” she continued. “I suspect like the blade used to kill my uncle, ’tis spell-tipped.” With care, she handed it back to Trálin.

Lord Grey sheathed the weapon on his garb. “Do you think she has sent the elite knights ahead?”

“I suspect so,” she replied. “With the information provided by Atair, Sionn, and the others, no doubt my father will be out with troops to destroy any threat.”

“Except,” Trálin said, understanding the cause of the nerves in her voice, “your father and the others are defenseless to the spell-tipped arrows.”

“They are,” she admitted in a rough whisper, “which is why we must reach my aunt first. Her death will break the spell over the Knights of The Silver Daggers. Regardless of where they are, what vicious task they are en route to, with her death, they will remember naught.”

Wind tumbled snow blew past as Drax rubbed his jaw. “How long before we reach the caves?”

“The entrance to the caves is less than a day away,” Trálin replied.

Sadness swept Catarine’s face as she took in the dead Englishman.

Trálin grimaced. The explosion of energy had left his body scarred, his gruesome expression a testament to the agony he’d suffered. “We will bury him before we depart.”

Shimmers of fading sunlight slipped through the break in the thickening clouds overhead, and danced upon the sweep of land with wilting intensity as Catarine stared at the odd-leveled mound at the base of rock that built into a formidable ben.

Trálin pointed toward the center. “The entrance to the cave is near the bottom.”

Searching for a blackened indent, she scoured the slid of land. “I see it, barely. With the sun setting and the erratic formations of rock, ’tis hard to make out the entry amongst the shadows.”

“Even in the full light of day,” Trálin said, “’tis difficult. Unless you stumble upon the opening, one must know what they are looking for.”

Drax glanced over. “The area around the entrance is too exposed to approach during the day, and with the irregular countryside, treacherous by night.”

“Another reason Princess Elspeth selected this cavern.” Catarine took in the sky thick with clouds, the swirls of grey smothering the errant flickers of sunlight. An omen? A shiver rippled through her. “We are all exhausted and will remain here this night. At dawn we go in.”

Trálin, Drax, and Kuircc nodded.

She glanced to where the Scottish knights waited a short distance away. “Lord Grey, did you explain to them the circumstance of the English knight’s death?”

“I did,” Trálin replied, “but as we discussed earlier, nae until they took an oath of silence.”

“My thanks. I am sure after the Englishman’s death this day, they had many questions. Neither do they need any surprises when we face the remainder of my aunt’s warriors.”

“They do nae,” Drax agreed. “I hope after Sionn gave your father an update of the situation that he has sent warriors to aid us.”