The Frost Maiden's Kiss (34 page)

“No man could resist such a taunt,” said Ranulf, folding his arms across his considerable bulk to watch Catriona with satisfaction.

“The pair agreed, but Malcolm took a precaution before departing. He recalled his mother telling him that no wicked being could hold him in thrall if he carried the mark of the Trinity. He fetched a clover from the meadow and bound it to his arm, heeding his mother’s advice. He brought a second clover for his friend, but Rafael laughed at him. He said that a bit of clover would not defend him so well as his bow and arrow, and his knife, then mocked his friend’s whimsy. And so, different in yet another way, they rode out to hunt upon the moor.”

Catriona took a breath before she continued. Malcolm could see that she enjoyed herself, for there was a sparkle in her eye. He noted also that Vera had come to sit at the top of the stairs, the better to listen. “The game was as varied and as bold as anticipated, and they hunted with great success throughout the morn and past midday. Malcolm was about to suggest they call a halt, when a horse and rider suddenly crossed their path. He was all in green, the knight they saw, his caparisons and tabard as verdant as new growth in springtime. His horse was white enough and bright enough to make a man squint, and there were silver bells bound in its flowing white mane.”

“The Elfin Knight!” roared half the company with satisfaction.

“They stared in awe, guessing that ’twas none other than the Elfin Knight himself. But there the similarity between them ended, for Rafael insisted he would pursue the Elfin Knight to see where he lived. He guessed that the Elfin Knight must have riches aplenty and that he could make some of them his own.”

There was laughter at this, for it was utterly characteristic of Rafael to think thus.

“Malcolm sternly advised against this, for he counted them fortunate that the Elfin Knight had passed them by. He believed the price of any such wealth would be too high. Rafael did not heed him, though, but spurred his steed and gave chase to the Elfin Knight. And so it was that Malcolm realized that the Elfin Knight had bewitched his friend with a glance, successfully tempting him because Rafael was not defended by clover bound against his arm. Malcolm vowed to do right by his friend and followed the fleeing horses.”

Bertrand and Ranulf clinked their cups together, saluting this impulse of the Malcolm in the tale. Little did they know how close it came to the truth.

“Rafael, for his part, could not believe how fleet the horse of the Elfin Knight proved to be. His own steed was fine and swift of foot, but he never could catch up to the beautiful white steed. Rafael might have imagined that the creature flew instead of galloping over land, but still he gave chase. The sun sank and the shadows lengthened and still the Elfin Knight raced on, and still Rafael gave chase. The wind turned chill and the stars came out, and still the Elfin Knight raced on, and still Rafael gave chase. The moor had long past disappeared, the hills risen beneath their feet and fallen away again, and an endless meadow surrounded them. Still the Elfin Knight raced on, and still Rafael gave chase. Just when he feared his horse would drop, the Elfin Knight halted his steed.

“Rafael leapt from his horse where a company had gathered, right in the midst of the meadow. He saw that there was a circle on the ground, a circle of white flowers that might have been wrought of frost. This large company danced within the circle, singing and making such merry music that he longed to join their revels. The jig they played made his feet itch to dance.”

Malcolm looked up at this detail, unable to fully hide his surprise. He glanced at Rafael, only to find that man uncommonly pale.

How did Catriona know what had happened at Midwinter?

Chapter Twelve

Catriona did not seem to notice Malcolm’s reaction, for she continued her tale without pause. “When the Elfin Knight passed into the circle and disappeared within the crowd, Rafael did not hesitate to follow. At the edge of the circle, though, when he was the last step outside of it, a small crooked man stepped into his path. That man stooped, as if to pick up a fallen token, and spoke to Rafael. He warned him not to step into the circle, lest he be lost forevermore. Rafael laughed and told the man he was unafraid of any dance, and that he would keep his vow to follow the Elfin Knight. And so, he stepped into the circle and joined the dance.”

Malcolm looked down at his hands, shocked that Catriona told a tale so similar to the experience he and Rafael had had their first night at Ravensmuir. Did she know the truth? Had she guessed it? Or was it simply a tale?

“Rafael had danced but the twinkling of an eye when the Fae—for that was who the dancers were—guided him to the Elfin Knight, who sat upon a great golden throne to watch the celebration. The Elfin Knight offered his goblet to Rafael, and the sight of the heather ale frothing within that golden goblet, so richly studded with emeralds and rubies, filled Rafael with thirst as well as greed. He had an idea that he might manage to take the chalice, as proof of what he had seen, but no sooner had the heather ale touched his lips than he forgot all he knew of the mortal world. There was only the Fae, their heather ale and their dance and their music, and naught else could matter to him again. He drank deeply, drinking as much as he could, then fell down before the Elfin Knight like a man struck dead.”

“This does not bode well,” Tristan informed Nigel, who shook his head.

“In time, Malcolm arrived at the Fae circle, and the Fae invited him to enter, as well. He saw Rafael and thought to save him, but just before he stepped into the ring, the same crooked little man came to the edge and tried to warn him. Unlike Rafael, though, Malcolm listened to the advice and asked the man who he was. He proved to be a townsman who had, like Rafael, followed the Elfin Knight, entered the circle to dance, and sipped of the heather ale. As a result, he was trapped forevermore, as were a dozen others who danced in that ring.”

Malcolm’s heart pounded as Catriona continued her tale. Would the Malcolm of the tale be sacrificed, as well?

“Malcolm asked the crooked man for advice as to how the mortals could be saved, for he reasoned this man would know best. And so he did, for he gave Malcolm stern instruction. He bade him stand without moving, in the precise spot where he was, until the sun rose clear of the horizon. The Fae, the man warned him, would try to provoke him but he must remain utterly still. And then, once the sun sailed free, Malcolm must walk nine times around the circle, being sure to make his last circuit complete. After that, he must stride to the Elfin Knight and take the golden chalice, the one that brimmed with heather ale and was studded with emeralds and rubies. He was to retrace his footsteps with precision, and once outside the circle, to fling the chalice away. And thus would the spell be broken, but if he failed, he would be captured, as well.”

Malcolm looked up, finding Rafael’s gaze fixed upon him, that man’s eyes bright. Could the spell placed upon him be broken? His pulse quickened. How could he discover the truth?

The last thing he wanted to do was approach the dancing Fae again, but if doing so would provide the key, it would well be worth it.

A lifetime with Catriona was more of a prize than he could have expected.

“And so Malcolm stood waiting for the dawn, never moving from his place. The Fae pinched him and pricked him, they taunted him and tried to tease him, but he held his ground and his pose perfect. As the sun rose, the Fae seemed to fade into ghostly shadows, although they did not disappear. Even when the sun was free of the horizon, he could see them still. Then he paced around the circle, being careful not to step within it, and making his every circuit complete. A rumble began, like distant thunder, and he saw from the agitation within the circle that it was the Fae, seeking to distract him. When he had walked around the circle nine times, there was silence. The circle appeared to have filled with frost and ice, for it was all white within and the Fae themselves were frozen and bristling with hoarfrost. They could have been carved of stone, but their eyes yet moved, and he knew they watched him.”

The men leaned forward, rapt.

“Malcolm’s boots crunched on the frozen ground as he strode to the Elfin Knight. Despite the temptation to assure himself of his friend’s health, he recalled the advice of the crooked man. The sole living things within the circle were two large ravens, which appeared to stand guard over the golden chalice.”

Ravens. Ice ran in Malcolm’s veins.

“When Malcolm seized the chalice in his hands, a shudder ran through the company of frozen Fae. The ice tumbled to the ground, as if they had shattered. More importantly, the ravens snatched at him to retrieve their prize. They landed on his shoulders and assaulted him. They shrieked and clawed at him, as if they, too would compel him to err in his task. But Malcolm held on to the chalice and retraced his footsteps perfectly, scarce daring to breathe until he was outside of the circle. The noise grew with every step, a roar of thunder that was the Fae fury, for they feared he would escape. Their roar was punctuated by the screams of the ravens, When Malcolm stepped outside the ring, he flung the chalice as far as he could and heard it crack against the ground. There was a shout of pain, then complete silence.” Catriona held one finger to her lips.

The hall was so quiet that the snoring of one of the hounds seemed uncommonly loud.

She waited for a moment, then lowered that finger. “Malcolm turned around, uncertain what he would see. But there was the moor behind him, his horse and that of Rafael grazing a few feet away. A dozen men appeared to be waking from a long slumber, rubbing their eyes and looking around themselves in wonderment. Rafael himself stretched and yawned, and did not believe the tale Malcolm told. Malcolm sought the golden chalice to offer it as proof. All he found was a bit of stone shaped like a cup with a drop of dew within it. And so it was that Rafael never believed he had been saved from the Fae, but Malcolm never hunted with his reckless friend again.”

Ranulf began to clap with enthusiasm, then rose to his feet beaming. “Now there is a tale and one well told! You have captured a gem in this bride, Malcolm!” The others followed suit, hooting and stamping and whistling their delight. Even Rafael slowly clapped his hands, then bowed to Catriona as if in admiration. She turned to Malcolm with shining eyes and bent to kiss his cheek. “I shall go to Avery,” she whispered.

Malcolm raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Lock the portal, lady mine,” he murmured softly. “Just in case.” Her gaze flicked over his features and concern lit in her eyes, as if she took note of his wariness. But she nodded agreement, then she crossed the hall with pride and confidence. The men applauded her until she disappeared from view.

“All hail, Lady of Ravensmuir!” Ranulf cried, rising to his feet with his cup in hand.

“All hail!” The company echoed, many on their feet as they saluted Malcolm’s lady wife.

His wife was a marvel. Not only had she charmed this company, but she had made him see his situation in new light.

Malcolm would defend her to his dying breath. It was only reasonable for him to wish that might not be as soon as he feared.

But how to break the spell? He instinctively thought he should visit the ruins, where he felt most close to Tynan and where the Fae music did not awaken his memories. Perhaps there he could think clearly.

For time was of the essence: Midsummer’s Eve was but two days away.

* * *

Well, it was a merry situation his wretched daughter had found for herself, that much was certain. Hamish huddled beneath the thorned edge, chilled to his marrow, and resented his situation mightily. The mason who had offered him labor had paid him less than Hamish had anticipated, for he had said Hamish had not done the work to merit the pay. He was a cheat and a liar, in Hamish’s view. A man new to actual work like himself could not be expected to manage more than a few moments of exertion. Still, he thought he should have had the coin.

What coin he had been paid had passed swiftly to the brewster, his first taste of sweet ale in days making him thirst for another and yet another. He had fallen asleep with the masons making merry around him, even as their boys packed their carts, and awakened alone.

He could hear the singing in Ravensmuir’s hall and did not doubt his cursed daughter ate well, then would sleep in a warm bed. No such kindness did she show to him, though he had seen her fed and sheltered for years, at least in his own memory of events. Hamish was always better to others in his own recollection than in reality. On this night, he did have to admit that Catriona had no knowledge of his presence.

Even if she had, she would not have shown him kindness. She was cold, this one, cold and mean. Justice would only be served when he claimed his due from her.

Dark clouds gathered overhead, signaling that another storm gathered. Hamish did not want to be soaked again, for the wind was chill in this place. He had seen the company of mercenaries arrived and avoided the hall as a result, but now he wondered at their numbers. Their squires would be in the stables, and perhaps he might mingle safely in their company.

Or evade notice altogether.

He crept toward the hall when darkness fell, keeping low against the ground to avoid detection. Who knew who watched from that high tower? He had reached the shadow beside the stables when he was assaulted from behind.

Hamish spun and fought, but he had no chance. They were two, both larger and stronger than he, almost certainly younger as well. To Hamish’s surprise, though, they merely held him down, with a hand over his mouth to ensure his silence.

“We mean you no harm,” one man whispered and Hamish could have argued that point. “We seek only to learn what you know of this hall. Should you vow not to cry out or flee, I will release you.”

This man’s cloak was fine, woven of heavy wool and lined with fur. The other was similarly well garbed, and Hamish thought they looked to be knights. They were affluent then—or at least their patron would be—and might well spare a coin to one who aided him. Hamish nodded and was released. The pair sat him between them, holding him captive even as they remained in the shadows.