The Forgiven Duke (A Forgotten Castles Novel) (10 page)

Alex shivered, but from a deeper cold than any she’d known as they rode through the dark fortresses in utter silence. Even the wind had fallen off and quieted. No bird sound or animal sound, only the soft crunch of the horses’ hoofs, and even those seemed too loud. It seemed as if eyes were watching them all around, making their presence known.

Her flesh prickled with fear as they rode deeper into the maze of pillars. Would they ever come to an end? She bit her lip as her breath deepened. Yes, they would. She would not be overcome with wild and dark imaginings. She would be brave.

Svein slowed down to ride even with her. “We camp just on the other side. Come on.”

Alex reached over and touched his arm, her eyes on the cloth tied around his chest. “Svein, I’m so sorry about those men. I never intended for you to have to fight for me. I feel so bad that you were hurt.”

He shrugged. “’Tis nothing. I would have done anything to protect you.”

Alex shook her head. “I would not ask that of you. Please know that.”

A clearing throat from behind them made Alex look back at John. He was frowning at her and shaking his head. When she looked back at Svein, he winked at her, causing Alex’s face to fill with heat. She shrank back from Svein and slowed her horse, putting an even distance between both men.

She was noticing that John’s easy manner could turn demanding. More and more he seemed to feel like he had the right to order her about and it chafed. She supposed husbands held that right, but she was used to being independent and wasn’t so sure she would ever come willingly under any man’s thumb. One of many reasons never to marry.

They nudged their horses forward to a place where the ground was flat and the black towers of lava rock loomed behind them.

The sensation of watchful eyes still pressed against her back as they dismounted and set up camp. She doubted she would be able to sleep in such a place and wished they could ride on to an inn, but she knew better than to voice that aloud. John was always looking for a weakness in her, something to send her more thoroughly into his arms and marriage. She would have to pretend courage even if she didn’t really feel it.

She huddled in her sleeping furs close to the fire Svein had built for warmth and prayed God would send angels to protect them from the eyes, the evil, the hovering doom that clung to the black lava and her heart.

ALEX WOKE TO THE SOUNDS
of birds and ducks from the nearby lake. The dawn was creeping over the land, a light that felt different from the night before but appeared only a little brighter all morning. She stared over her shoulder at the Black Castles. In this light, in the daytime, they looked more like what they were: twisted shapes of hardened lava but still spooky enough to put a shiver down her spine.

John brought over a steaming cup of tea and held it out for her.

Svein joined them, passing out dried salmon and some reindeer grass. Alex wrinkled her nose but took a bite, chewing and then spitting it back into her hand. “Oh, that’s awful.”

The men chuckled. John didn’t even try it, only shook his head with his mouth pressed shut.

“Svein, I don’t know where to begin our search. Should we go back into the Dimmu borgir and look for clues?”

Svein shook his head. “No one lives there, I am certain. My village is just north of here, called Reykjahlíð and I have explored all these places as a boy. There is one place I am thinking of that has been an odd home from time to time.” His eyes lit up as he motioned them closer. “Long ago, Jon Markusson, an infamous outlaw, hid there for a time. It is a cave with a hot spring inside. Many have used it for bathing. Come, I will show you.”

The sunlight strengthened as they wound their way northeast toward the cave. The land rose in elevation, the ground changing from orange dirt to black rock.

“Look!” Alex pointed ahead at a plume of exploding white smoke. “What is it?”

“Hverfell, a volcanic crater. Would you like to see it?”

“I would love to.” She couldn’t come so close to an actual volcano and not want to look inside.

The trail up the side of Hverfell became steep and rock covered. The horses were steady though, and she never feared they might lose their footing. At the top they stopped and dismounted. John took her hand. They crept together up to the edge and peered down into the vast, circular bottom, a nub of rock in the center. Austere and strangely beautiful. Alex couldn’t fathom the power of its fiery underbelly.

Svein motioned for them to follow him around the upper edge, walking their horses toward the opposite side. He pointed to the north. “These areas can be very dangerous. There are boiling mud pots where the earth is soft and underneath the mud so hot it can scald your skin. And places like that mountain there, Krafla, do you see it?”

John and Alex stopped with him and nodded.

“In the early 1700s the fissures opened and lava flowed to the valley. Three farms near our village were destroyed and the village too, but none were killed. The story goes that as the lava was headed toward the village, the people gathered in the church and prayed. A miracle happened when the lava flow stopped right in front of the church and flowed to either side. The village was burned, but all the people survived and rebuilt it.” He winked at Alex. “Another prayer story for you.”

A chill raced down her spine. Was God trying to tell her something?

The descent on the other side was not so steep, and before long they were down on the flat ground and traveling at a faster pace.

“Here we are.” Svein pulled on his reins and leaned over the pommel, pushing back his hat. The sun shined more brightly than Alex had seen it shine yet in Iceland, and the wind died down to a low breeze. She pushed off her fur hood and looked around. There was no cave that she could see.

Svein laughed. “Now you know why it makes such a good hiding place. Come.” He dismounted and led the horse to a place where the ground looked to be solid rock in earth shades of brown and tan.

As they neared, Alex saw a great fissure that wound like a snake’s back in the earth. “Look, John. It’s down there, inside the ground.”

They dropped the reins, allowing the horses to graze on the meager plants in the area while the three of them knelt at the widest edge of the crack. Alex peered down and gasped. Turquoise water shimmered from a great pool, steam lightly rising. “Is it very hot?”

“It is perfect for bathing.”

“But how do we get down there?”

“Alex, I’m not so sure we should.” John frowned at her.

“We have to. It’s the only way to look for clues to see if someone is staying there. And besides, I want to bathe in it.”

He gave her a little shake of the head and then seemed to reconsider. “All right. Svein, how do we get down there?”

Svein showed them the way to climb down, hanging on to crevices and ledges. It was a short drop, and then there were plenty of rock ledges along the pool to walk around it. Sunlight poured in from the hole brightening a streak of water and making it paler blue. Alex looked around, found a nice ledge to sit on, and took off her shoes and stockings.

With her dress hiked up to her calves, she dipped her toes into the water. “Heavenly,” she murmured, shifting on the ledge until her legs dangled over the edge submersing them in the warm, bubbly water. “The water feels so light. My feet are floating.”

John crept over to her side and did likewise, putting his bare feet in the pool and reaching over to kiss her temple. “I think I might like the idea of swimming.”

What would they wear? It was too cold outside to get their clothes wet. But oh, how she longed to dip her whole body in the magical waters.

Svein crept over to the other side, poking around the nooks and crannies of the cave. After a little while he turned and grinned, his white smile lighting the dark recesses like a candle. He was holding something aloft. “I think I’ve found something.”

Alex scrambled up. “What is it?”

“A blanket. And there are some clothes and other supplies stashed over here. Someone is indeed staying in this cave.”

Alex looked around with some fear. “I wonder where he is.”

“And when he might return,” John added.

“We’ll wait here and find out.” Svein settled himself on a rock.

They didn’t have long to wait, as a short time later a sound from overhead startled them. Alex craned her neck. An old, wizened face peered down at them. He grinned as his rheumy eyes settled on Alex.

“Might you be lookin’ for me, perhaps?”

Chapter Ten

S
o you see, Mother, you’ll have to move in for the season while Alexandria is here.”

Meade wrote what his mother said and passed the speaking book over. Thank God Meade was back. Gabriel had hardly been able to function inside his own household without him.

I cannot possibly stay the entire season. I have my own social activities and won’t be tied down to an unprincipled debutant for the season. I’m sorry, Gabriel. It’s quite impossible. Perhaps one of your sisters can come. Or . . . you could always hire her a companion. The girl has caused so much trouble already. It will be a struggle to like her at all.

Gabriel ground his teeth. “Very well, I’ll ask Jane.”

Jane was the only sister without children, and, therefore, had more than enough time on her hands. Plus, she was closer in age to Alexandria and would get on well with her. He should have thought of it before. “Meade, send a note off to her. I would like to get this settled sooner rather than later.”

Meade nodded and scurried off to obey.

After his mother left, Gabriel paced about the drawing room like a caged panther. Would the king’s men really find her in Iceland? Knowing her luck and the way people rallied around her and her cause, it wouldn’t surprise him if she remained hidden from them. Within a month, the regent had said. Gabriel doubted he would see her within two.

And what was he to do in the meantime? This sitting and stewing was stretching his nerves to the snapping point. He needed to
do
something. He’d thrown himself back into his regular activities, but even the hard physical labor of sword fighting hadn’t lessened this constant pressure that made him feel like he was teetering on insanity.

In desperation, he knelt beside an elegant damask-covered chair and laid his forehead against the embroidered cushion.
Dear God, I am trying to do as Alexandria bade and look to You, but it only feels terrible. There is no relief from this pressure bearing down upon my soul. If only I could escape into the opera. The powerful notes of a musical score. Anything. I am cracking from the inside out and You don’t seem to be anywhere around. Help me!

He actually broke into a sweat. Even though it was the dead of winter and there was a lively fire to try and take the chill from the far corners of the enormous room, he shook with an awareness of hot and cold. Why was it costing so much of him regarding Alexandria?

A sudden thought that he was shouldering her trouble, protecting her somehow even though he wasn’t anywhere near her, made him sit back on his heels and rub the bridge of his nose. He stood, went over to a bookshelf, and took down one of the many copies of the Bible in the house.

Turning to Deuteronomy, he paged through it until he found the verse. There. “Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.” What if he was supposed to pray this for Alexandria? What if this pressure was to goad him into an intercessor’s prayer for her?

He immediately bowed his head and prayed the verse. As he said it under his breath, he had the distinct impression that he should sing it.

Sing it? He’d never been a very good singer when he could hear. What would he sound like now?

The pressure increased as he considered all the risks. What if someone heard him? He would sound ridiculous. What if God was asking him to do this and he disobeyed? Would it have any impact on Alexandria whether he sang or just recited the verse? Was he losing his mind?

The pressure increased as he pondered the idea until his chest felt leaden. With a deep breath he closed his eyes and very quietly sang the words.
“Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.”

A little chuckle came from his chest. It did feel good to sing it, better than good. He sang it again, a bit louder.
“Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.”
This time the words behind his closed eyelids turned to color. He saw the letters and the notes of the music with colors combining the two in an oddly jubilant musical score.

He sang it again and again, louder and louder, no longer caring who heard or what they might think. He opened his eyes and sang—the blues and silver, purples and gold, reds and yellows and orange, dancing about the room in front of and around him. An unimaginable joy filled him and the belief, so strong and sure in his heart now, that God was with Alexandria, His love that Alexandria spoke so passionately about upholding her and guiding her—it all overwhelmed Gabriel.

He stopped, fell back on the settee, and closed his eyes, a peaceful exhaustion coming over him. And he suddenly saw that what used to cure his ennui, the opera, was just a shadow of what God could do inside him if he trusted enough and took a leap in faith like he just had. Walking with God could be far more exciting and fulfilling—abundant life—than trying to take care of his own needs with earthly means as he had always done. And helping Alexandria didn’t necessarily mean he would be by her side, though he still longed for that. It might mean prayer and singing and things he had yet to imagine.

God’s ways and thoughts were so much higher than man’s ways and thoughts that he couldn’t begin to fathom Him. Walking with God meant just that—leaning on Him in every way, every minute of the day. He hadn’t been doing that at all, though he prayed more. He’d still been leaning on his own understanding.