The Fanged Crown: The Wilds (25 page)

Harp’s eyes flew open. “I want you to take them off. I want you to make me what I was before.”

“Then what gives you pause?” Majida asked.

“I wonder when Liel saw me. I wonder what kind of man she saw.”

ŚŠŚŚŠŚ ŚŠŚŚŠ• ŚŠŚ

It was four against one, and Harp was too drunk to defend himself.

“Ghoul,” the biggest one said, slamming his fist into Harp’s face. Harp fell back into another man, who held his arms behind his back while the big one punched him in the stomach. “So ugly they had to sew you back together.”

When they had dragged Harp out of the pub into the back alley just minutes before, Liel had lost of them in the crowd. She caught sight of them from the street and strode

down the alley to them. By the time they saw her approaching, a blast of fire had shot from her hand and singed the big man’s shoulder. He stumbled back against the wall, clutching his arm and moaning while his friends backed away. They dropped Harp to the cobblestones. The four men bolted down the alley leaving Liel alone with Harp.

The narrow alley was filthy, and she could hear the rats scurrying behind the rubbish bins. It reeked of alcohol and rot, and was the last place she wanted to be. It was the last place she wanted Harp to be. She crouched down beside the body at her feet. Unconscious, Harp lay in a twisted heap, his breathing shallow and labored.

She had been trailing Harp through the city for a couple of days, trying to figure out what to do. She thought about talking to Kitto, but he was always with Harp or the gaunt dwarf, whoever he was. Liel had seen Harp’s scars from a distance, but it was the first time she’d seen them up close—thick, red lines crisscrossing his face and hands like a grotesque jigsaw puzzle. His shirt was tangled around his chest, and she could see the scars on his back and stomach.

Cardew had done that to him. Her husband’s threats had been real. The Branch of Linden had spies everywhere, and if Cardew even knew she was in that wretched city, he would come after Harp. Liel had never felt so trapped. She didn’t know how far her husband’s reach extended. If she left Cardew, he might focus his ire on her father and the elves of the Wealdath. Besides, she and Harp had parted in anger. For all she knew, Harp hated her. The safest thing she could do was to leave Harp in the safekeeping of his friends.

She pulled him close so his head rested against her chest. If she didn’t help him, he would die in the alley, drunk and bleeding. She couldn’t let that be the culmination of his life.

How the human had managed to take root in her soul, she would never understand. Until that moment, she had told herself that what she felt for Harp was just a construct of desire, something easily shattered or sacrificed. But she’d never been good at lying to herself, and as she held him, there was no denying what she felt for him.

She forced herself to block out the stench of the alley, the wretched buildings, and the filthy city that corrupted the force of life. With his warm body in her arms, she could finally hear the rustle of leaves, the call of the birds, and the pulse of the faraway forest. She found her strength to mend his broken ribs and to heal the shattered bones in his hands. The gash on his forehead closed, but still the scars remained. When his breathing was deep and even, she pulled him to his feet.

She half-carried him down the road to the dodgy boarding house where he was staying with Kitto and the dwarf. She lowered him onto the doorstep, knocked loudly on the door, and disappeared into the shadows before anyone saw her. Still, there was something else she could do. Liel headed to the docks, where she had seen Harp talking to a fat man about a boat called the Crane. That ship might be his best chance for something that resembled happiness.

2 Flamerule, the Year of the Ageless One

(1479 DR) Kinnard Keep, Tethyr

Sitting in the soft chair closest to the fire, Cardew rested his elbows on his knees. He stabbed at the burning logs with the fireplace poker, making the flames crackle higher and sparks hiss and pop as they flew up the chimney. Cardew crossed the room to the collection of liquor bottles and poured a glass of the amber liquor that had been imported from the midlands.

Enjoying the sweet, warm taste, Cardew looked appreciatively at the wall tapestry showing a flock of sheep in a green meadow, the high shelves filled with leather-bound books, and the glossy mahogany desk and matching chairs. Officially it was Tresco’s study, but he rarely used the room, and Ysabel had long claimed it for her own.

“Why do you look so pensive, Master Cardew?”

Ysabel said from the doorway. She was dressed in a dark navy dress with a high neck. Gone was the girlish braid, and her blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders.

“You took beautiful,” he told her.

She smiled and came to sit in the chair next to him. “How was your business in town?”

“Boring. Just details about an estate I plan to purchase near the capital,” he told her.

“I hear you and Uncle are going fox hunting.”

“Is that what he told you?” Cardew said. “I hadn’t heard what the old scoundrel had planned for us. What would you like to drink, Bella?”

“Whatever you’re having,” she replied.

Cardew poured a second glass of the amber liquid and came to sit beside her again.

“What time will dinner be served?” he inquired, glancing at the closed door.

“Shortly.”

“Will Tresco be joining us?” “No,” Ysabel said tersely. “How interesting.” “Isn’t it?” Ysabel agreed.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been fully alone with you,” Cardew mused. “Tresco has kept you so well guarded.” “For my own safety.”

Cardew frowned at her coyness. “Can we speak freely or not?” He reached over and laid his hand on her thigh. “Are we free to do as we please?”

Ysabel pushed his hand away. “We can speak freely, Declan. But you are not free to do whatever you please.”

Cardew was surprised and a little hurt. “Did you get the spellbook I left for you?”

“I did. It was quite elementary. Of the same level as the spellbooks you brought me when I was a child.”

“Really? You must have advanced quite a bit since we

last talked. Does Tresco know what you’ve been up to?”

“Of course not,” Ysabel said crossly. “You know how he feels about the subject.”

“Well, maybe you’ve become so adept you don’t need me to bring you any more books,” Cardew said. He stood up to refill his drink. When he turned around, Ysabel was standing directly behind him. His drink sloshed over the side of the glass and onto his hand. Irritably, he set the drink down on the table and dried his hand on a linen napkin.

“I appreciate your attentiveness, but I am ready for something more … fulfilling,” Ysabel said.

Cardew reached for her, but she stepped away. Cardew let his arms fall to his sides.

“Why are you acting this way, Bella? Last night… I thought…”

“Acting like what?” she said petulantly.

“As if you don’t know me,” he said reaching out to stroke a lock of her hair. He wound it around his finger and gave it a little tug. “As if we’re not planning to be together forever.”

“Forever?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, Bella. That’s what people do when they’re in love.”

Ysabel turned away from him and walked across the room to the bookcase. She ran the back of her fingers along the row of colorful spines until she reached a black leather tome, which she pulled out and held against her chest.

“The history of the Dragon Coast,” she announced, tapping the cover. “It was written by a bandit who lived near Nathlan and was more erudite than most so-called intellectuals of the court.”

Cardew didn’t give a fig about the Dragon Coast. “No one doubts you’re a smart girl…” he began.

“Did you know that I’ve read all of those volumes?” she continued, gesturing at the shelves behind her. “Philosophy, geography, history. All of it very dry, none magical of course. Uncle keeps the good books locked away.”

“What are you saying?” Cardew demanded impatiently.

“I’m tired of people treating me as if I were a child,” Ysabel said, not bothering to disguise the anger in her voice. “Tresco’s kept me as if I were a pet. I’ve been under lock and key and constantly watched by guards. He has restricted all my schooling and refused to let me develop my spellcasting.”

“I helped you with that, didn’t I?” Cardew pointed out.

“You did,” she acknowledged. “And I’m eternally grateful. But we’ve reached a fork in the road, if you will.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I am a good listener, Declan. I have heard and understood a great many things from my vantage point as a prisoner chained to the walL”

“You haven’t been chained to the wall,” Cardew said impatiently. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“This is not the time for that discussion,” Ysabel said with a hint of bitterness.

“Then what are we discussing?” Cardew asked crossly. The conversation was not going in the direction he had expected. During his ride home from town, his mind had played through a series of tantalizing fantasies about what he wanted to do -with the princess just as soon as he got her alone.

Ysabel sat down on the chair in front of the fire and patted the chair across from her. After a moment’s hesitation, Cardew sat beside her, hoping to recapture the mood of the night before.

“I need to know some things, Declan,” she said quietly. “About my Uncle and about you.”

“What sort of things?” he asked suspiciously.

When she reached out and took his hand, he felt a jolt of energy surge through his skin. The desire before fulfillment, when a simple touch felt electrifying, was his favorite part of courtship.

“I know you plan to marry me, with Tresco’s blessing. But if you want me to be your wife, I need you to talk to me.”

Cardew took a deep breath, feeling as if his feet were back on solid ground. Such discussions seemed typical for women. He never understood how chatting made them more interested in rolling around in the sheets, but who was he to question why.

“Of course, Bella,” he said agreeably. “If we are to marry, I want us to be honest with each other. Ask me anything you want.”

“I know that this is delicate. But I need to know about your first wife. How did you meet?”

“Liel?” Cardew was surprised at the question. “I met her after the massacre. I was wounded, and Anais sent me to be healed by her father, Avalor. I spent several months in their care.”

“Did you love her?”

Cardew signed. “Queen Anais felt that our marriage would help heal the rift between men and elves. She was wrong, of course. But how could I refuse the queen?”

“Queen Anais is naive,” Ysabel agreed. “But you didn’t answer the question. Did you love Liel?”

“I was bewitched by her beauty, which was substantial, although nothing compared to yours. Of course, you were just a child then. So you can’t be jealous.”

“I’m not,” Ysabel assured him. “She was kidnapped by pirates, was she not?”

“Where did you hear that tale?” he asked “Yes, while we were engaged, but before we married, she was kidnapped and taken to sea.”

“Who instigated it?” Ysabel asked.

“We never found out.”

“Was her coin paid?”

Cardew hesitated, not sure why any of it would matter, but there didn’t seem any harm in answering.

“No, it wasn’t. As fate would have it, one of the pirates mutinied against the captain and fled the boat, taking her

with him. They traveled to the Moonshae Isles and then she was returned safely to her father.”

“How fortunate! You must have been grateful to the man for saving her life.”

“Well,” Cardew said, hesitating as he sought the appropriate words. “I may have misrepresented his intentions. He took her with him as capital. He planned to barter her freedom in exchange for a pardon of his crime of mutiny. It was less than honorable, you see.”

“Yes, I see. What happened to him?”

“I have no idea,” Cardew said, his brow furrowing. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. It’s a sweet story, though. A pirate saves a beautiful elf and returns her safely to the loving arms of her fiance^ Don’t you see the appeal?”

“Dear Ysabel, you are so innocent. There was nothing sweet about it. It was sordid and unfortunate.”

Ysabel frowned. “I don’t understand …”

“And I’ll say nothing more about the matter,” Cardew said firmly. He was not about to share how a ruffian had cuckolded him. Cardew intended his tone of voice to chastise the girl and stop her from asking questions, but she stared at him without a trace of regret.

“Why did you tell the Inquiry that you saw me upstairs by Teague’s body? And that you saved me from the masked assailants? And that we hid together in the woods until morning?”

“Because that’s what happened,” Cardew insisted. “Don’t you remember?”

“I remember a lot of things, but not that.”

“Bella, it was a horrifying experience. You were a mere child. You can’t trust your memories.”

“Why did you blame the dwarf? Are you such a coward that you had to direct attention away from your incompetence?”

Cardew was shocked into silence. That he was Amhar’s accuser was a well-kept secret. He and the ministers conducting the Inquiry agreed that it might sully his reputation as Hero of the Realm if he were also the prime witness against the dwarf. In fact, he’d been paid a large amount of coin to let the Inquiry take the credit for discovering the identity of the culprit behind the massacre.

“Who has been filling your head with such nonsense?” he demanded angrily.

“Did you find what you were looking for in the jungle?” she asked innocently.

“Ysabel! What do you do! Listen at keyholes? Read letters not intended for you?”

“Did you find it or not?”

“I cannot believe that you …” Cardew sputtered.

“So you didn’t find it. When Tresco said that you failed, he must have been speaking of the artifact.”

“You are obviously not the girl I thought you were.”

“And yet you are exactly the man I thought you were,” Ysabel gave him a disarmingly sweet smile. “A weak-willed coward who blamed an innocent and condemned him to die, couldn’t satisfy his wife, and couldn’t uphold his end of the bargain in Chult. I would rather stay an unmarried crone than ever let you touch me again.”