Susan Spencer Paul - [Enchanter 01] (29 page)

“But surely Lord Graymar would know how to lift such a curse? Or Steffan could go to the spirit realm and ask the guardians?”

Niclas smiled grimly. “Magic isn’t always as easy as it may seem. In fact, it’s often more trouble than help.”

Julia reached out to touch his hand, lightly. “Are they lifted very often? Blood curses?”

“No,” he said, and stood, strolling the few steps to the half-wall. “Not very often.”

He gazed down into the valley and thought of a way to turn the topic. Any more talk of blood curses was going to lead to revelations that he wasn’t yet ready for.

“Steffan is down there somewhere,” he said, “though I don’t suppose we can see his camp from here. It will be hidden by the trees.”

“Steffan?” Julia asked, still seated on the bench. “I assumed that he and his men returned to their home camp.”

“Not yet. There’s a certain stream in the valley, not far from your aunt’s estate, where particularly knowing water faeries live. Steffan has been encamped there with his men, reading the bowl and communicating to Malachi with their help. It requires a great deal of swimming, however, as the faeries can’t come out of the water, so he’s obliged to remain near the stream.”

“Is he still trying to discover Cadmaran’s whereabouts?”

He nodded. “Aye, but with no luck yet. Even Malachi doesn’t know where he is, though my cousin Ceridwen is safe, regardless. Malachi’s striving to get her wed to the man she’s betrothed to, and once they’re married there will be nothing Cadmaran can do. She’ll be protected by a magic that he has no power against.”

“Truly?” she asked, clearly surprised by this. “There are obviously many exceptions to magic that I know nothing about. But if marriage is the simple answer, then why should that be so difficult to arrange? Surely the earl of Graymar can procure a special license with ease.”

“When someone in a magical family wishes to marry,”
he said, moving back to sit beside her, “they must first seek permission of what we call ‘elders’—not because they’re aged, but because they have attained great wisdom—who are selected from each of the families in our union. Especially when the proposed spouse is a mere mortal. Well,” he amended thoughtfully, “I suppose that’s not entirely true. Morcar Cadmaran asked for Ceridwen’s hand in marriage and that was the most hotly contested proposal in family history, or so I hear tell. I don’t know why it’s taking so long for them to decide about Colonel Spar and Ceridwen. He’s exactly the sort of sympathetic mortal that we need in the family.”

“Colonel Adam Spar?” Julia asked, straightening. “He’s to wed your cousin?”

“Do you know him?”

She laughed merrily. “Oh, indeed, I do. The poor fellow made the mistake of taking pity on me five seasons ago and asking me to dance. My family immediately tried to force him into marrying me, and he felt so sorry for me that I think he would have done it if I hadn’t scolded him for giving way to them.” She sighed at the memory. “He was a fine and handsome gentleman and I was so grateful for his kindness.” She smiled up into Niclas’s now scowling face. “I’m so glad he’s to wed your cousin. She’s a fortunate woman, and you must like him, too, knowing the kind of man he is. He’ll be very good to her.”

“I did like him,” Niclas muttered irately. “I hate him now. I hate every man who ever danced with you, or smiled at you. Or even looked at you back then.”

Julia didn’t appear to be alarmed by his anger; she raised a hand and set it upon his chest.

“Don’t be foolish,” she chided gently. “They cared
nothing for such a little mouse, and I cared nothing for them.”

“It should have been
me
,” he said, not even knowing how to tell her what he felt. She had been there, for years, and he’d never known. It was as if he’d missed the most important thing in his life, never even aware of her. “It should have been me,” he said again, and then, without considering whether it was wise or right, he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her.

It was impossible to be gentle when he was filled with such anger and desperation, but she murmured against his seeking lips and gentled him by degrees, fitting into the crook of the arm that was lashed about her and sliding her own arm about his neck.

His lips were just parting over her own when they heard Kian shouting.

“Hey, Niclas! Stop that! Let Miss Linley breathe for a moment, will you?”

Niclas made a growling sound and lifted his head. Julia laughed, and they both looked to see Kian standing not far off.

“He’s heartless, that boy,” he muttered. “I shall make him rue the day he was born.”

To Kian he called, irately, “What is it?”

“Steffan’s just arrived! He bears good tidings from Malachi.”

Niclas was dragging Julia in the direction of the gate before Kian had finished speaking.

“What’s happened?” he demanded sharply. “Is Ceridwen—”

“She’s fine,” Kian said happily. “She and Colonel Spar were married last night.”

“So soon?” Niclas said, surprised. “How on earth did Malachi manage to convince the elders so quickly?” The relief he felt was mixed with a sense of dread. The precious time he’d hoped to have with Julia was suddenly fading.

“Is she safe, then?” Julia asked.

“Aye, as safe as she can possibly be,” Kian answered. “Cadmaran can’t touch her now. And Colonel Spar is safe, as well. To harm either of them would cause Lord Llew to lose many of his powers, and he won’t chance that.”

“Where has the earl of Llew gone, then?” Niclas asked. “Is he yet in London? Or does he come here, seeking revenge?”

“Steffan reports that he’s merely begun his journey back to Castle Llew. It would do him no good to visit revenge on you now, Niclas, for he has nothing to gain and much to lose. Ceridwen is lost to him completely, now that she’s wed. It’s likely he’s going home to lick his wounds. He’ll give us no further trouble.” He looked from one to the other, smiling his rare smile. “You’re safe, now, Miss Linley,” he said, and offered her his arm to escort her back into the castle. “We shall have much to celebrate at the feast this evening.”

T
he rain had started not long after the feast ended. It put Niclas in mind of the night when he and Julia had escaped Cadmaran in Shrewsbury and made their way across the border to Wales. Enoch had safely carried them to Arionrhod’s dwelling, and Julia had slept in Niclas’s arms, warm and softly feminine, wrapped in his heavy coat.

A gust of cold, damp wind blew in through the tall open window where Niclas stood, ruffling the edges of his hair and chilling the flesh where his unbuttoned shirt lay open.

The chamber behind him was dark. He’d sent Abercraf to bed without letting him light a fire, then had blown out all the candles and lamps so that the atmosphere would match his mood. He had meant to go out riding, but the rain had put an end to his plans. It was one thing to force a beast out into such weather when it was absolutely necessary, but quite another to ask the creature to endure the same merely because a man wished to exhaust himself beyond all pain.

Lightning briefly lit the sky as well as the valley below, where the lights of Glen Aur twinkled merrily against the night’s black cover. He hoped that Julia saw it from her window, as well. It would make a pretty memory to take home to London.

Tomorrow, if the rain stopped, they would begin their journey back. She was fully recovered from her visit to the spirit realm, and they were safe from Cadmaran. More importantly, there was nothing for them to accomplish here between her aunt and his uncle, and thus no reason to delay the return. The sooner he had her home again, the better. What he would do after that, Niclas wasn’t yet sure.

The curse would not be lifted, and because of that, he could not allow himself to see her again once they were in London. And as he knew very well that he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her if she was anywhere within hundreds of miles of his reach, Niclas had to either go far, far away, or find another solution.

The wind blew again, harder this time, so that rain swept inside the window to briefly shower both him and the floor. Niclas closed his eyes and wished the cold of the night might freeze him right through. Freeze away every thought, every feeling.

She’d been happy tonight. That’s what he would think on. The grand feast that Ffinian and his untamed sons had given in Julia’s honor. Niclas smiled just remembering.

It had been typical of the wild celebrations to be found at Castle Tylluan. There had been music and laughter and dancing and a bounty of fine food and drink. Ffinian had been his jovial, mad self, entertaining Julia, the guest of honor, with his tall tales and bawdy jokes, while Steffan,
Kian, and Dyfed had taken turns regaling her with a Seymour family history that almost had Niclas blushing.

She had laughed with real pleasure and thoroughly enjoyed herself, and Niclas had been relieved by her happy acceptance of his strange—but admittedly entertaining—family. There were few mere mortal women of his acquaintance who wouldn’t have run screaming out the doors, but Julia, perhaps because of the Tarian, perhaps because of her recent experiences with magic, or perhaps because she was simply Julia, clearly had no trouble at all in the discovery of such people.

But then the celebration had changed, just as it always did after a few hours of drinking, and what had been entertaining became rather more dangerous.

Many of Ffinian’s and some of Steffan’s men were lesser wizards, and, though none possessed remarkable skills, some were capable of the common magic of levitating objects. Along with Kian, these men had devised a game that involved flying objects striking various other objects or places in the great hall for different points. A fork knocking down an empty bottle of wine was two points. A salt cellar striking a candlestick was five points. A spoon hitting the nose on a fading face in an old tapestry hanging upon the far wall was ten points. This alone was enough to make Niclas nervous, for any innocent individual might accidentally be struck by so many flying objects.

But then, as usual, it got worse.

Whoever could float a napkin the closest to a candle flame without it catching fire won twenty points, with the result that numerous cloths caught fire and sent small bits of glowing ash about the hall. After being obliged to pour
a pitcher of water on a smoking curtain, Loris thankfully put an end to that particular aspect of the sport.

But that didn’t dim the gamesters’ spirits. Kian, half-drunk and more than a little angry at what he viewed as Loris’s attempt to spoil their pleasure, jumped up on one of the tables and, ignoring Dyfed’s pleas to get down, challenged the men to strike him with any object they could levitate.

Niclas had hurriedly grabbed Julia and moved her away from the table and to the other side of the hall, ducking as everything from plates to lamps began flying.

Loris remonstrated, Niclas remonstrated, and Dyfed made yet another attempt, but it was to no avail. Ffinian pounded gleefully on the table with a fist and Steffan clapped in time as Kian leaped and jumped out of harm’s way, dancing up and down the length of the table, kicking food and platters and cups and pitchers out of his way and deflecting objects with both magic and athletic skill. Steffan’s men, who had brought their instruments along, struck up a lively tune and raucous shouting and laughter filled the hall as the game grew increasingly fast and furious.

“Good heavens,” Julia murmured, staring wide-eyed at the spectacle. “They’re flinging knives at him. Are you sure he won’t be hurt?”

“No, I’m not,” Niclas said, dragging her down under the cover of a side table as a piece of crockery smashed against the wall above their heads. “But I’m going to make sure we aren’t.”

“Please tell me this isn’t for my benefit alone,” she said, burrowing close as Niclas’s arms folded about her and a large silver platter struck the wall.

“No, this is what happens at every celebratory feast, I’m afraid. Loris will put a stop to it in a moment.”

“Loris?”
Julia said with disbelief.

“She’s the only one who can. I’ve tried before, believe me, but it only makes them worse. Even Malachi can’t make them stop unless it’s by force, and we always pay for it later when Kian and Dyfed are in London. Look, she’s had enough. She’s going to stop them now.”

He felt Julia lift her head just enough to watch as Loris made her way across the great hall, walking directly toward the table where Kian yet performed his skillful dance. She showed no fear of the objects flying in all directions, and deftly ducked and sidestepped as she made her way. At last, Kian saw Loris coming, and he fell still, breathing heavily with the exertion of the game. His smile and laughter died away and his expression, as he gazed at Loris, tightened. Reaching out a single hand, he brought the movement of all objects to a halt, so that those which were in midair fell harmlessly to the ground. Loris came to stand before him, placing her hands on her hips and meeting Kian’s angry gaze with her own.

“Now, darling Loris,” Ffinian said placatingly, still sitting in his place at the head of the long table. “We were only having a bit of fun.”

“You’ve had your fun,” she said, “as usual. And you’ve made a mess, as usual. And, as usual”—she turned her gaze to Ffinian—“you’ve broken that which we can’t afford to replace. If this goes on we’ll have nothing left to eat or drink with but our bare hands.”

“Don’t fret over a bit of broken crockery, dearest girl,” Ffinian replied, failing miserably at looking contrite. “Once I’ve wed my dear Lady Alice we’ll have plates of
gold to dine upon. There’s no need to be in such a taking.”

“Loris is always in a taking,
tad
,” Kian said, jumping lightly from the table to stand before her. Loris was tall for a female, yet she was obliged to tilt her head up to hold his gaze. “Are you not, darling Loris?”

“Not always,” she replied evenly. “But if this mess isn’t cleared away before the hour is out I shall be in a taking such as no Welshman has ever before seen.”

The cleaning of the hall had immediately begun. Ffinian invited those guests who weren’t involved in the chore to join him in the library, where he would no doubt continue drinking until he was too weary to go on. Steffan had readily accepted, but Julia, realizing that the presence of a lady would only dull the men’s fun, had pleaded weariness. Tendering her good-nights, she had climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. Niclas had stayed with his cousins and uncle for two glasses of whisky, then had ignored their drunken insistences that he stay and excused himself. That had been three hours past, and the castle had grown quiet and dark, all those occupants who weren’t on duty as guards having sought their beds.