Page 17

Talac accompanied Brandth out into the courtyard as the sun left the horizon. His friend hobbling, already a dab hand at using his crutches, though Talac could tell from the faint white grooves bracketing his mouth, that even with the new sturdy steel enforced boot Brandth was in pain. Heaving himself awkwardly up into the waiting carriage took over a minute, accompanied by lots of groans and muttered curse words.

The men were ready, Brandth was safely tucked away in the carriage. Still Talac waited, his gaze travelling over the quiet courtyard. He’d been unable to track Alia down the previous day to bid her farewell. He’d presumed she’d appear to… exchange goodbyes.

Abruptly the Lair entrance doors swung open and she was striding out into the cool morning air. Dressed for riding, Talac noted. Following her was the mute lad and the masked healer, a grey veiled wraith, toting a carpet bag and several more servants behind her carrying piles of cloth, baskets of food, cushions, and other assorted things. It was kind of them to pad the royal coach for Brandth’s use, but once the healer boarded, she never reappeared.

Whilst the skinny mute wandered around the carriage, heading to the rear. At first Talac assumed he was rearranging the luggage on the rear platform, but instead it became apparent the lad was making himself at home between two of the softer bags.

Meanwhile, Alia was mounting her pitch black stallion that a stable hand had just led out of the Lair stables, noticeably not meeting Talac’s gaze, as if she were feeling ill at ease about something.

Talac’s just risen brain still yet to a make all the connections.

Sharing a puzzled look with Raschion, who was seated on top of the carriage, the reins lax in his hands. Talac manoeuvred his horse over to the carriage, peering inside the currently open window.

“Well?”

Brandth’s tone sounded impatient and peevish with pain.

“Sire?”

Very aware of several Lair inhabitants milling around and Alia and the healer’s presence.

“Let’s be off then. I doubt I’ll get any more comfortable, and it looks like our bridal candidate is ready and impatient to get on the road also. The sooner we get to Pallene and the Palace, the sooner she can proceed to dazzle our beloved Prince with her beauty, wit, and charm.”

Talac was confused, and then even more so when Brandth raised a hand and waved it in Alia’s general direction as he mentioned a bridal candidate. Wait! What?

“Who? Alia?”

Alia? The Beast? Alia, the Beast of Gloomenthrall, was a bridal candidate for the hand of the Prince of the Realm? Alia?

“Yes. Yes.”

Brandth acknowledged before picking up a nearby crutch and hitting the ceiling of the carriage with a thud.

“Heave ho, Raschion.”

With a crack of the reins the horses and carriage took off, followed closely by the royal guard, two officers speeding up to take point. Alia sending Talac a quick, impenetrable look, before reeling her horse around and taking off in pursuit of the retinue.

It felt like hours as Talac sat there on his steed, waiting for his brain to make some sense of all he’d just heard and witnessed. Yet the longer he considered all the intelligence just imparted, the less and less it made sense. Alia, the Beast of Gloomenthrall, was a bridal candidate? Tall. Curvy and sturdy. Blunt. Deadly. Independent. Her looks closer to arresting and interesting than Court approved beautiful… that Alia, was travelling with them to the Golden Palace to vie for the hand of the Prince of the Realm?

He was awake, right? Talac looked around, noticing the speculative looks of several Lair inhabitants eyeing him peculiarly. Huh, if this was a dream, then it was an incredibly vivid one. Nudging his horse with his knees, Talac shot out of the portcullis in pursuit of his comrades and their three travelling… additions.

He had so many questions. Yet, when he caught up to the royal contingent, he found himself unable to voice a single one. Alia had positioned her horse in the middle of the eight men-at-arms bringing up the rear. All good men, trustworthy. But even so, Talac couldn’t imagine questioning Alia in their presence.

All Talac could do was trail behind the group, his gaze constantly drifting to fix upon Alia’s back. Question after question battering around in his brain. Did Alia really think she had a chance of winning the Prince’s hand? Was she tired of being Lady of the Lair, deciding to set herself a higher goal, Queen? What would happen if her secret identity was exposed at Court? What if word got out that she was the legendary Beast of Gloomenthrall?

By the nine circles of hell, was he coming at this from the wrong angle? Was he, Talac, somehow the reason Alia was travelling to the Palace? Had she formed an attachment to him and somehow convinced or blackmailed Brandth into issuing an invitation? Why then did she not approach him and try to get him onside, or at the very least send him the occasional heated coy look?

Was he in fact irrelevant to her reasoning for accepting the invitation? Did Alia perhaps think their time spent together might in some way favour her when it came to the Prince? Did she expect Talac to champion her cause?

Throughout the day new and increasingly bizarre scenarios niggled at Talac. Certainly, Alia was giving nothing away. Rarely looking in his direction, her eyes shifting quickly away from his if she accidentally met his gaze at any point. She rode without complaint. Readily answering questions his men had about the woods and the predators found within. But steering away from any queries regarding the Lair, or its inhabitants.

Was she on Lair business perchance? But then why the subterfuge of acting as a bridal candidate? What did that position gain her exactly? All eyes would be upon Alia the moment she arrived, from the servants all the way up to the King, the Queen, and Dowager-Queen. Alia wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere without an escort. And everything she said would be picked apart, repeated, before being picked apart once more and closely assessed.

Finally, at the end of the long day’s ride, as the sun dipped below the horizon, they reached the first designated overnight camping site. Fires were lit and everyone was encouraged to make use of the nearby stream to wash and freshen up.

It had taken him all day, but Talac had eventually come to the conclusion that really there were only two important questions that he required answers for. Why had Brandth issued a bridal invitation to Alia Gloomenthrall? And why had she accepted?

* * *

Uh-o. It looked like Talac was finally ready to talk. Problem was, Alia wasn’t sure if she was. What could she possibly say to him that he would believe?

“May I join you?”

Talac hung his damp towel over a nearby branch before settling on the ground across the fire from Alia. Three were blazing in the campsite, all the better to keep predators away that weren’t daunted by the acrid smelling bags hung discreetly around the perimeter.

Darnation, the fates were conspiring against Alia. Perri had just left to check on Brandth, who would be bedding down in the carriage overnight. While the rest of the retinue were going about the business of cleaning away evidence of their meal and getting the sleeping arrangements sorted. Alia, for the moment, was effectively alone. Well, not anymore.

With his hair still damp from a visit to the nearby stream and the fire reflecting in his suddenly storm grey orbs, Talac looked like a demon risen from hell to cast judgement upon her.

“So, you want to marry the Prince?”

“Doesn’t every girl at some stage dream of such things?”

“You failed to mention earlier that you were throwing your hat into the ring.”

“It seemed silly to get my hopes up, given the stiff competition provided by my kin.”

“Yet here you are. Brandth must have seen something extraordinary in you to extend an invite.”

Alia did her best to keep her expression mild and unconcerned. She hadn’t actually spoken to Brandth as yet, Perri had done all the hard work there. Perhaps she should enquire of her sister how she had managed to garner Brandth’s cooperation. Clearly Talac thought his Sire could not be strong-armed or tricked. Yet somehow Perri had achieved the impossible.

“Is that a question?”

“I was just wondering what you could have said or done to sway Brandth’s notably high standards in your favour.”

“Are you implying that I’m not good enough for your Prince?”

“If anything, I would say the opposite might be true.”

“You sang his praises a few days ago. Handsome. Loyal. Smart. Capable, you said. Have you changed your tune?”

“The Prince is all those things, so it is said, but he is… hamstrung by tradition, family expectations, and the political moods of the aristos. I expect he is doing his best to try and carve out his own path through all of that. But that generally means playing the Court games. You do not strike me as one who has much use for political or diplomatic games.”

Wrinkling her nose, Alia couldn’t help but nod.

“Give me a ball tackle game over drawing room manoeuvrings any day of the week.”

“Exactly. You can see it. I can see it. Yet, for some reason, Brandth still extended an invitation your way.”

“Perhaps he thinks it’s time for a change?”

“Brandth deals intimately with the King, who abhors change almost as much as the Dowager-Queen. Yet Brandth, knowing you would have almost zero chance of being approved as the future Queen of the Realm, still invited you to be a bridal candidate. Why? Which is a question for him, I suppose.”

“Yes.”

Yes, go and annoy Brandth, but still Talac didn’t move.

The blaze had dried his glossy choppy chestnut mane, pushing it out of his eyes he continued to stare at Alia intently.

“But still one question remains on the table, Alia Gloomenthrall, if you don’t actually believe you’ll be successful in securing a proposal from the Prince, why are you conducting this charade? Why do so… desperately wish to visit Pallene and the Golden Palace?”

Heavens, she didn’t blame him for his questions, his suspicions. But how had Talac managed with so very little information to distil everything down to the one vital part of this whole plan? She had to get to the Palace, and not just that, have a valid reason for wandering those hallowed halls and attending all the upper crust parties.

“… Who draws you there?”

Damn him, he was skirting too close to truths she had no wish to impart.

“Do you know the last time I took a holiday? Why, it has to be… ten years ago, at the very least.”

“Most people head to one of the coastal cities for a reprieve.”

“Ah, but I’m more interested in architecture and libraries, and our capital is renowned for both. Plus, a lot of the goods we sell end up at the Pallene markets, it would be useful to know what kinds of markups are applied before we negotiate with any more merchants.”

“A working holiday then?”

“Yes.”

“A working holiday whilst in your spare time you intend to woo the Prince of the Realm, dazzling him with your modesty and pleasant conversational skills? Hanging off his every word? Flattering and praising him at every turn?”

“Um… er, yes.”

“Were you aware that if a candidate is deemed unsuitable at any time during the festivities – too boring, heard uttering falsities, affections discovered to be aimed elsewhere, misrepresenting herself – then she and her entourage are asked to leave immediately?”

“No. No, I was unaware of that.”

“I only mention it because I wouldn’t want you to get so distracted by the architecture, the libraries, and the retail merchants, that you forgot to… concentrate on your prime reason for being at the Palace.”

“The Prince.”

Alia tried to inject some eagerness in her tone, but was worried that Talac didn’t believe a word of what she was selling.

“Exactly, the Prince.”

“You almost sound concerned on my behalf.”

“The Palace can be a challenging place for newcomers, especially those unused to intrigue and constant political manoeuvrings and shifting alliances.”

“Please, I’ve been managing my female kin for almost a decade now. You haven’t dealt with high drama and intrigue until six of your sisters and cousins set their caps on the same suitor, and you’re expected to arrange an outcome that will mean as few tears as possible and leaving everyone… relatively happy.”

“Quite.”

Talac’s gaze roamed seemingly idly around the campsite perimeter.

“Are you armed?”

“Always. Why?”

“I believe we’re being observed.”

Gods, where were her wits? Too focused upon feeding Talac lies and praying he would believe them, forgetting where she was. The woods. Full of predators and pitfalls. Where was the threat coming from that Talac had sensed.

“Have any of the bridal candidates ever come close to winning the Prince’s favour?”

Talking for the sake of talking.

“None so far.”

To their left? Yes.

“Oh. Does he have a preference in poetry? Perchance I may get a leg up on the pack if I woo him with the right sonnet.”

Oh, yes, she had a bead on the predator stalking them now, and it was of the two legged variety. A royal retinue with its gilt carriage would look like rich pickings indeed to any robber. How dare such low scum set up their grift in her woods.

“Do you know any poetry by heart?”

Talac’s stance was relaxed, but she could see he had pinpointed their observer’s location also.

“Does - there once was a man from Lard-Rock - count?”

“Rhyming? That would certainly set you apart from the pack at the very least. Where are you going?”

“I believe a lady would not mention such a need out loud… but I’m headed into the woods to conduct some personal business.”

“You know.”

Talac rose to his feet.

“Now that you mention personal business, I believe I need to address some of my own.”

Alia fought hard not to roll her eyes, she didn’t need help to deal with one measly predator… a twig cracked, the sound almost smothered by the crackling fires. Perhaps more than one predator.

“Okay then, my business takes me in that direction. How about you take yours over that way?”

“My way looks rather far from your way.”

“Precisely, it’s not too soon for me to start acting the modest lady… I insist upon privacy.”

“Are you sure my business doesn’t take me more in that direction?”

Talac pointed a finger directly at their first confirmed observer.

“No. And I shall… have a fit of vapours if you get any closer to my chosen destination.”

Men, always trying to take over. Whirling, Alia stalked off into the darkness. Despite everything Talac had witnessed over the past few days he was still trying to protect Alia as if she were some helpless creature.

The lights from the campfires couldn’t penetrate further than three steps into the woods. With her fourth step Alia crouched and crept off to her right. Assuming whoever was watching them would try and intercept her, and make some assumptions of their own. Like she would travel in a straight path, and choose not to stray too far from the campsite.

Alia’s night vision kicked in. Heading for a sturdy oak, grabbing a low branch, she levered herself up. Hugging the trunk, she stepped over onto another branch, and then another. Putting herself roughly above where she had originally been headed. Carefully sitting down upon the branch, letting her long legs dangle but keeping them still.

A rattle of a stone being kicked against a tree trunk was her first clue that there might be a third player. Perhaps she should be grateful Talac was backing her up after all. But just who were these… men? Had they followed the royal retinue and been waiting all this time for the opportunity to strike? The only thing she could ascertain was that at least one of them was an idiot.

“Pssst… where is she?”

Despite the hushed tone the words rang out like a shout in the silent woods.

“Shss… shut it.”

“I can’t see anything.”

The first voice whined softly.

She’d guessed their lurkers would try to intercept her. Being female, they would assume she was the weakest link. Perhaps intending to nab her as a hostage in exchange for riches.

“Grasdy? I can’t see anything?”

Grasdy? He’d been one of the suitors who’d skedaddled before the hunt, willing to brave the woods rather than depend on his hunting skills to win the day and nab him a dowry and bride. Oh, that changed everything. Question was, were these stalkers picking on Alia because they knew who she was? Or had they decided to take up a new vocation of robbing and potentially raping pilgrims and travellers for sport and whatever money they could scrounge?

Time to get some answers. Ideally, Alia wanted to keep the one who couldn’t shut up alive, he appeared the most nervous. Ripping a nearby small dried branch free with a loud audible crack, Alia could sense the two men below jump in surprise.

“What was that?”

“It was just her… she’s got to be up ahead.”

“Where’s himself then?”

A third robber? Or did they mean Talac?

“He was across the clearing, it’ll take him longer to get here… that’s if he comes at all. Doubt he’s ever gotten his hands dirty in his life. Come on, time to put down this Beast.”

Ah, so they did know. Damn, should she wait for the third man, or strike now? Or do nothing and let Talac do all the heavy lifting? All choices suddenly taken out of Alia’s hands. Men. They could be so impulsive.

Admittedly the way Talac moved, swift and silent, was impressive. And he had the uncanny ability to blend in with the shadows. One of the robbers already on the ground, dead, before the second robber realised they were under attack. His feeble sword work no match for Talac, who was just waiting for a gap in the man’s terrified wild swings.

“Hold.”

Alia pitched her voice low, sure even then the word carried too far for her liking. But given the remaining robber’s fast terrified panting, she knew the moment for remaining covert was long gone.

“We need to question him. He’s one of the suitors who fled before the hunt, as is… was his fallen companion. There may be others.”

Dropping from the tree, landing with loose knees to absorb the impact and any noise she might make. Alia crossed the ground quickly in time to watch Talac swat the last standing robber’s sword from his hand, backing him up against the nearest tree trunk, resting the tip of his sword against the man’s throat. “Talk.”

“And… and you’ll let me go?”

Into the woods, after dark, without any means of protection.

“Yes. You have my word.”

Alia promised readily.

“What were you after here tonight?”

Talac questioned.

“Her… the Beast. He… he said if we were to kill her then the Gloomenthrall women would be easy pickings, and we could all walk away with hefty dowries.”

“He? Who is he?”

Who knew she was the Beast and was telling tall tales of fantasy? Without Alia there would always be another Beast. Even now her cousin, Poulth, had taken up the mantle in her absence. “Who-”

Alia stumbled as Talac yanked her abruptly sideways. The twang of the crossbolt being shot travelling to her ears a split second after the bolt came to rest in the throat of their chatty friend. Who released a gurgle and was dead two seconds thereafter.

Alia grabbed hold of Talac’s arm, pulling him down so they both crouched low, hidden in the shadows of the nearest palm fern. “Wait.”

She breathed the word in his ear, sensing all his muscles bunched, Talac was raring to go off in pursuit of their unknown archer. “Listen.”

She instructed.

Nothing. There was nothing to be heard. The archer was no doubt on the move, having accomplished his most important goal, killing the man who might reveal his identity. Yet no birds were awakened as the archer retreated away through the woods, no footsteps sounded, or twigs broke.

“You would only make yourself a target chasing after them.”

Alia rose, her words at a normal volume. The killer, with excellent woodland skills, was long gone, and Talac was too sensible to give chase at night in unfamiliar terrain in the dead of night.

“Cruddy hell.”

Talac glanced down at the two corpses.

“Suitors you say?”

“Yes. Grab that’s one foot, will you? I’ll take this one.”

“Where are we taking them?”

“Away from the camp a bit. Let the predators deal with the disposal.”

Finally, Alia deemed they’d travelled far enough.

“Here is good.”

“Hah.”

“What, you find this amusing?”

“Just thinking how much your adoring small followers would approve. Disposing of suitors in the woods. Guess the rumours concerning you are not so false after all.”

Alia glanced down at the two bodies, holding back an exasperated sigh. Talac had no idea had weary she was of re-enacting this exact scene.

“I never said the rumours were false… only the exact numbers exaggerated. Though perhaps not so much anymore. Come on, let’s head back, clean up, and get some rest.”

“You’re not worried whoever is out there might come back and strike at you again? You were their target.”

“He strikes from a distance or uses others to do his dirty work. The timing and convenience of the location worked in his favour, almost. But I’m on my guard now. And we’re travelling hard, with greater numbers. Let’s see if whoever they are can keep up, or cares enough to go to the effort to try again.”

“Just know, I’ll be warning my men of the threat. And, I have your back.”

I have your back. Alia’s gut heated with delicious warmth. They weren’t words of passion or devotion, but for some reason Talac’s vow, it both steadied and comforted her. She wasn’t alone in this. Talac was skilled and very capable. This man who clung to the shadows was a conundrum. She’d seen glimpses of him through the shadows, but knew there were many layers she had yet to uncover. Even so, Talac was not a man who said anything thoughtlessly, he had her back.

For the first time, in a very long time, Alia didn’t feel so cut off from others, so isolated. She… liked Talac… perhaps more than was good for her. Because to feel anything for this man, dedicated to King and the Realm, when she likewise was dedicated to Gloomenthrall and her relatives – no future could come of it.

And just like that, as the weight of her responsibilities settled once more heavily upon her shoulders, and she was reminded just why she was out here to begin with, that warmth in Alia’s gut winked out in an instant. Leaving behind a cold, hollow feeling, that was all too familiar.

She sank into the icy cold embrace. She’d always used it in the past to fuel her, to freeze and fuse the Beast mantle to her very bones. The Beast, who she was, who she would always be. Forever on the hunt… forever alone.