The Castrofax (32 page)

“I’ll hide,” he muttered before remembering
he never hid from anything. “Or drug them.”

She nodded. “Is it true what they say about
the stars falling? I’ve heard you called everything from Star
Breaker to Bringer of Stars.”

He met her eyes. “That much is true, though
it was only beads of light in the pattern of the heavens, not
actual stars.”

She patted his knee. “Your trick is safe with
me.”

“So,
Mikelle
, what is your plan?”

“I am going to sleep on one half of the bed,
you the other. Should anyone disrupt us in the night, as I could
see the Prince doing, it will not look suspicious. When I wake in
the morning, I’ll limp a little and speak such marvels of the
evening to Nolen, but I will whisper to the girls that you are
cruel and dark hearted, and no one should have to endure what I
had.”

He considered this for a moment. It was easy
to ruin the gentle reputation he had. “Why did Nolen send for you
Arconians?”

“He and his companion suspected you were
still pure.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “He wants to take
everything from me. Wait—
who
was he with?”

“A shorter man who spoke strangely. Called
himself the Warden of Gray.”

Gabriel frowned. “When did this all happen?
How did you get here?”

“The Warden transported us here in a minutes
using some strange black pattern. He told us to close our eyes, but
I opened mine halfway, and the world was nothing but black and
white.”

“A black pattern? I think Void uses black
patterns.” He stood suddenly. “Ryker. I knew it. It explains how
quickly you arrived here.”

“Does it?”

“Ryker knows patterns we lost to the Ages.
Why should one of them not be a traveling pattern?”

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled
him back. His sturdy stance pulled herself out of her seat, and she
unwittingly unhinged his clothing. “Deal with it in the morning.
You’ve got a woman to bed.”

He gestured to the four-postered piece. “Bed.
Shall I tuck you in, or can you manage?”

“I
would
like a good night kiss and to
watch you undress.”

He gave her a glare and marched off to his
washroom.

“Oh come now!” she exclaimed. “Legends are
based on facts.”

He sighed and groomed himself for the
evening, leaving the washroom wearing only a loose pair of sleeping
trousers. He heard the woman give a deep sigh and felt her eyes on
him as he rounded the bed. “I will have good stories,” she said
just above a whisper.

“Don’t touch me,” he warned and picked up a
book. “I lash back.” He lay back in the pillows. “I’m not kissing
you goodnight.”

“Facts. Legends are based on them.” Mikelle
leaned in, and Gabriel put a palm on her forehead pushing her away.
She chuckled. “You and I are going to be fast friends, I can
tell.”

“May I at least have the permission to remind
you this is folly?” General Calsifer asked, watching Robyn tack her
horse. She was useless at it and the mare sidestepped just in time
to avoid the saddle. “You, Tim, please saddle the lady’s
horse.”

“You do not have permission,” Robyn replied.
“Though it seems you’ve taken it.”

For two weeks he had been trying to persuade
her to stay at the manor until her birth anniversary, but the
Princess was stubborn to her toes and refused to listen. He
reminded her that the plan may not work. Gabriel could already be
broken, and she could be wounded or captured in the process.

It had taken weeks to gather the necessary
men for the job, and Talon had arrived the night before with the
last two. There were twelve men in total, strong fighters with
various skills in camouflage, healing, picking locks, escape, and
evasion. Calsifer was their commander, and while only a few of them
actually served for a military, they would suffice.

He paid close attention to two brothers from
Shalaban. They were skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but Calsifer
did not notice them for their talent. Shalaban had been landing
ships on Anatolian shores for years, smuggling families into the
forests with promise of a better life. The Empire was ruled by a
dynasty lasting well over 300 years. It had been driving the poor
into deeper poverty and praised the rich for no other reason than
being wealthy.

Shalaban had already taken over the Myron
Islands, and set up colonies in the Cinibarian coast. They were
beginning to do the same on Anatoly’s shores. Queen Challis of
Cinibar waged battles with them annually to drive them back, but
after a decade-long war, she was bleeding men and resources. The
shore towns were infested with the dark-haired, red-skinned people,
and Queen Miranda saw no issue with them. Calsifer was not sure how
Robyn felt, and she kept a mask of indifference when introduced to
them. He would see them all driven into the ocean if it was his
last act as General.

The groom had Robyn’s horse saddled and
bridled in moments as Robyn frowned at the animal. Talon walked by
leading a white charger. “Your horse is ready,” he smirked at the
General as his stallion brayed and kicked the door.

“He senses excitement,” Calsifer muttered and
went to Araybiatt. The stallion pricked his ears when he saw the
General. “Do you not saddle yourself by now?” he asked as he let
himself in and patted the stallion’s side. By the time Araybiatt
was saddled and led from his stall, Robyn still sorted out the
reins on her mare.

“Could we not bypass Anatoly City and
continue to Castle Jaden?” Calsifer asked one last time.

“We will go there after we have Gabriel,” she
replied and pulled her horse into the aisle. There would be no
winning her over, Calsifer knew, but he made sure he did all he
could to persuade her otherwise.

She marched out of the stables into the
courtyard with a sure stride to meet the rest. Of all the warriors
Talon found, there was only one woman, a contortionist. Andolyn
seemed to know her well, as both women talked in hushed tones over
their horses.

Calsifer gave Robyn a leg up before mounting
Araybiatt. The destrier wheeled to face the group with only a touch
to his ribs. “Anatoly City is a four day ride if we keep a good
pace, and once we arrive, we will be staying at the Bramble Rose
Inn.” He gathered his reigns. “I keep a low tolerance for
disobedience and disrespect, and I have crippled and killed many
men for mistreatment of women, so believe me when I say the three
women on this journey will come to no harm. I will take no pause to
use this,” he touched a hand to his sword hilt. “Do we have an
accord?”

The men nodded. Calsifer knew the bloodlust
that came with a battle and knew many men who had taken women of
conquered cities. Under his control, his armies knew women were not
part of plunder, and while he believed Talon meant well, Calsifer
did not know these men. With a satisfied nod, he spurred Araybiatt,
and the stallion lifted his hooves and arched his neck proudly.

Calsifer still thought this journey was
folly, but he would be damned if he did not serve the future Queen
of Anatoly. It may have been love’s folly, but love was delicate,
worth fighting for, and easily lost.

Mikelle was already awake when Gabriel rose,
brushing her hair in the washroom until it shone. Arconians dipped
the ends of their locks in sweet smelling oils, and the room filled
with the scent of oranges.

“You toss in your sleep,” she said to his
reflection in the large mirror. She wore a deep blue satin gown
with cutouts around her shoulders. A cord made of solid sliver
braiding sat around her waist, and a matching piece hung around one
wrist. Gabriel could not imagine why anyone would want to wear
jewelry around necks or wrists, and the idea made him shiver. The
cold around his own limbs reminded him of his ever-present
situation. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” She smiled coyly.

The bed was big enough to easily fit three
people, and at no point had Gabriel made contact with her. He
forgot she was there until he woke. “Yep.” He said in the mirror,
two hands rumpling his hair. The Castrofax were more pronounced
against his bare skin. Mikelle stopped brushing her hair and cast a
sympathetic eye on him.

“Be free to change. I won’t look.”

“It’s
feel
free,” he corrected. “And I
don’t trust you.”

She twirled half her hair up in a swirl of
orange perfume and pinned it back. “You should. I am very
trustworthy. I will keep all your secrets.” She turned to leave and
planted the flat of her palm on his backside.

He was halfway finished dressing in snug
brown trousers and a cream shirt that laced up the chest and wrists
when a knock rapped the main door. Gabriel gritted his teeth and
tucked in his shirt before opening the door.

A young man in a soldier’s uniform
straightened. “His Grace, Mage Prince Nolen requests your immediate
presence in the Willow Wine Salon.”

“His Grace?” Gabriel screwed up his lips.
“Wherever is that?”

The soldier regarded him with an indignant
look. “Two floors down, facing the internal courtyard.” He
straightened. “I will wait.”

Gabriel opened the door a little revealing
Mikelle who sat by the window. She waggled her fingers at him. “I’m
entertaining.”

The soldier surprisingly gave him a smirk and
winked. “I’ll cover for ya’ then, but the Prince don’t like to
wait.”

Gabriel scrabbled for a double-edged
sentence. “I’ll finish up here.”

The solider chuckled as he left. In the
anteroom Gabriel could hear the sounds of breakfast being set out
like it were every morning, and peeking his head out, he saw two
servants quietly working. “Now’s the perfect time,” he said and
quickly snatched a dark blue coat trimmed in brown suede. He
fumbled with the diamond-shaped ebony buttons as Mikelle gathered a
night bag and straightened the back of her hair.

Gabriel took her by the elbow and pulled her
into the anteroom. To his dismay, it was now occupied. His father
and Aisling sat on the couches around the short table in the center
of the room. Cordis put up a brow. “You dog,” he said in an amused
tone. Aisling laid her eyes on Mikelle, and she stood quickly,
knocking her plate to the floor. She fixed her eyes on Gabriel with
such venom he could feel himself wither.

He led Mikelle to the main doors and opened
one for her. “I will be in touch,” she told him quietly in Arconian
and swept out without a word.

The door clicked in a hollow tone, and the
room fell silent. He swallowed and turned to explain, but Aisling
strode forward quickly, devouring the space between them in
seconds. He did not realize she slapped him until the sound echoed
in his ears. Her hand left a painful red print on his cheek.

For a moment he was back in the dungeons.
“Don’t hit me,” he snapped.

“You dare,” she hissed and pointed a finger
in his face. “How are you going to explain this to Robyn?”

“Very easily,” he replied and put a hand on
his face.

“Do not get smart with me,” she snapped. “You
know it is only proper for a Queen to marry a chaste man. She would
refuse you, if she found out.”

He put his hands up. “What does it matter to
you? I didn’t—”

She cut in. “I have to look out for the good
of the kingdom and for your—”

“I didn’t lie with her!” Gabriel interrupted.
“I never touched her. She’s not here for—for
that
.”

“She is just breaking down your wall of
comfort before she takes you.”

“I—I,” he sputtered and shook his hands, his
temper breaking through. “It’s
my
decision! No woman will
take me
! Please, Aisling,” he dropped his hands and
straightened to his full height, suddenly standing a head above
her. “
Don’t
.”

She fixed him with a hot stare before
thinning her lips. “Be careful the deals you make with Nolen. The
Arconian vow is something you cannot break.”

“Wait a minute,” Cordis muttered behind them,
a buttered roll in his hand. He slowly looked up as realization
came to his eyes. Gabriel met them and pinched his lips.

He looked back down at Aisling as his hand
found the door latch. “I’ve already made it,” he said quietly.
Shouldering the door open, he left the woman standing there with a
bewildered expression.

He marched through the palace with a scowl
and his fists clenched. The pages stayed out of his way, and no one
spoke to him. His temper abated the further he walked, and his
fists loosened, but his outburst had surprised him. He was never
one to snap loose and vent his emotions, but something pushed him
too far.

‘
The Castrofax are not removable, and I am
forever a slave to Nolen’s lust for power. Maybe it’s time to fully
accept it. Move forward. I would have to leave Robyn behind. She
would never take the hand of a man in a Castrofax; it would show
weakness if her husband could not protect her. Perhaps I could find
some happiness in the arms of another woman.’

He found the Willow Wine Salon and walked in
to a small sitting room decorated lavishly to look like a forest.
Nolen stood with a petite blonde woman, her long hair tied back in
a tail. His heart gave a leap, for the girl looked like Robyn, but
she turned when he entered and she was indeed not his love.

“Did you enjoy the firebrand?” Nolen asked.
Gabriel remembered to drop his eyes at the last moment.

“In a sense.”

“Spare me the details,” Nolen cut in and
raised a hand. He looked down at the woman beside him. She dressed
in a pale blue satin gown, bundled in a white fox fur shawl, pinned
back with a Mage brooch of black metal and a fat pearl. It marked
her a Class Six Air Mage. “This is Lace Inisfree of Arconia. She is
going to be spending the day with us, and the night with you.”