Page 7

Collapsing down on to the priest’s dais, Alia gulped down a goblet of mead, she was so very thirsty, not to mention hot and sweaty. Despite her two hours out on the dance floor her toes still tapped to the beat of the lively music, watching as dancers continued to twirl by in large numbers.

It felt like she’d danced with everyone here. Passed from person to person. Losing her crown of flowers early in the proceedings. Only to have another crown wedged down upon her head moments later. Phew, reaching up she straightened it. Much better, now she could see out her right eye. Absently Alia rested a cool hand against her flushed cheek. The afternoon summer sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon but the air, given all the recent rain, was nothing but steamy. Thankfully the vast puff willow trees crowding up against the stream provided plentiful shade.

Damn, staring into her cup, all the mead was gone and she was still thirsty. She’d barely finished that thought when a large figure stalked out of the crowd, settling himself down beside her upon the dais.

“Here.”

She accepted the fresh goblet of mead. Alia had been all too aware of Captain Talac of the King’s Guard shadowing and watching her every move since she’d made her pronouncement a few hours ago. The look on his face before she’d been swept away by a new partner… it had been priceless. She got the distinct impression that very little shocked or surprised Talac.

Then, to her amusement, the hunter had become the hunted. All too aware of his eyes on her from that moment on. His large frame hovering around the edge of the dance floor, as if he intended to block her way if she chose to run before he could confront her.

Hah, the Beast of Gloomenthrall ran from no one.

Several times Talac had impatiently attempted to muscle his way on to the dance floor, probably with the intent of claiming Alia’s hand for a dance and grilling her for answers. But each time the sheer size of the throng had ejected him back out.

He wasn’t a man who liked being thwarted. The scowl that had settled on his face said as much.

“Thank you.”

This time Alia sipped the mead. Taking the opportunity to cast a sly glance in his direction. He was a big man, solid, muscular, enough so that he’d managed to lift and twirl Alia easily out there on the dance floor, and she was no slender twig. And yet, despite his size, he moved easily, always on the balls of his feet like most trained from the cradle master swordsmen did.

He was taller than she. The local children whispered Alia was part giant, she wondered what they would make of Talac’s size at easily six feet and six.

Several female kin had advised Alia in passing that the Captain wasn’t a handsome man. But she thought that was only because they were comparing him to the elegantly pretty Lord De’Luca. Admittedly, Talac’s features were decidedly more blunt. His nose straight and large, but it imminently suited his sharp angular face and square jaw. His hair reminding Alia of her first horse, a chestnut, though Talac’s hair shimmered with additional threads of reds and gold when the light hit it. She was guessing he cut it himself, as it fell in a choppy mess around his ears.

His eyes fascinated her the most. Grey. Dark and stormy one moment. Light and giving hints that dawn was coming the next. His gaze always direct. Talac didn’t appear to be a man who enjoyed games or subterfuge. Yet he had the canny ability to sink easily into the shadows, be still, quiet, patiently waiting for his prey to misstep and then he would pounce, exploiting their momentary weakness.

She’d seen… no, sensed him that night at the Keep when her Father had insisted she put on that silly display of loyalty and announce the upcoming hunt. Talac had been standing deep in the shadows, all but hidden. Yet every nerve ending in Alia’s body had fired. The same kind of feeling that gripped her when she was on the hunt, and sensed her target nearby. She’d been so very… aware of him. It had been rather disconcerting, not knowing whether his presence foretold danger or something more.

Forcing Talac to dance with her had been a test. One that had produced a plethora of intelligence, not all to her liking. Besides the confirmation of his grace and strength, she’d been surprised by the gentleness of his grip on her. And how her skin, even under layers of clothes, prickled where he touched her, as if it were both hot and cold at the same time.

Alia, despite herself, found Talac intriguing. He was not a man who craved admiration or the limelight. Look at what he’d done for Kinnith. She surmised in fact that he much preferred to keep to the shadows. And the only time he ventured out into the light was when the time was right for him to make his kill.

Ah, yes, lifting her gaze, finding those storm grey orbs of his fixed intently upon her. He thought her prey and that he’d cornered her… hah, he’d soon learn she was no easy target.

“You would have me believe you’re the Beast of Gloomenthrall?”

“Yes.”

“Do you transform?”

Alia almost choked on her mead, swallowing with difficulty.

“That’s a very strange question.”

“I had heard rumours of fangs and claws.”

“And you make a habit of listening to rumours?”

“Sometimes truths hide amongst stories and rumours. And I note you didn’t exactly answer my question.”

It was so hard to tell whether he was being funny or serious. Then she noted the twinkle in his eyes. He was teasing her? Because he didn’t believe her? Or because he didn’t believe a woman could be the Beast of Gloomenthrall?

With lightning speed Alia held a sharp blade against his jugular.

“What do you know, I have claws after all.”

Enjoying watching Talac freeze, blinking slowly, calculating this new information that had come his way. Strangely, that twinkle in his eyes glittered a little brighter. Reaching up he slowly, carefully, pushed her hand away. Alia resisting for a split second, snapping her teeth in his direction.

“And perhaps I have fangs as well.”

Disappearing the knife back in its sheath.

“Madam Beast, it’s a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a skilled hunter.”

He was a unique man. Many would have found a reason to excuse themselves by now and warily make a retreat, not Talac.

“I understand you make a living from hunting also, Captain Talac… though your quarry I believe is potential brides for our Prince, is that right?”

“Lord De’Luca is on the hunt, I merely accompany and keep him out of trouble.”

“Is there something wrong with him?”

“Brandth? Besides a love of expensive clothes and thinking he’s always right, I continue to hold the man in high esteem.”

“No, not him. The Prince. Is he simple? Feeble? Ugly? Why can’t he find a bride of his own? You’ve been searching for the right woman for decades… now that he is old, just choose slower candidates, he’s bound to catch one of them eventually.”

The bark of laughter that erupted from Talac was deep and merry.

“This is the sixth year of our search, and the Prince isn’t all that old… or simple, feeble or ugly. He’s just busy trying to learn how to manage the Realm and doesn’t have time to search out a bride of his own.”

“Doesn’t sound like he’s much interested in choosing a bride, if you ask me.”

“I suspect you’re right.”

“Then why the… search?”

She’d been about to say charade.

“I fear the Prince’s parents… and his grandmother, are applying a lot of pressure. They would see the Vallas Realm’s future firmly secured with ready heirs sooner, rather than later.”

Alia swung her boots slowly back and forth.

“And the man is unable to stand up to his own kin and say no thank you, I’m not ready, I’ll find my own bride in my own damn time? So, he’s spineless?”

“I don’t know about that. He’s been able to hold his own for the last five years. Perhaps not so spineless after all. Besides, dealing with forceful parents I have heard can be tricky. Perhaps you could advise how you manage to stand up to your Father and never do his bidding, unless it suits you. I shall pass the information on to the Prince.”

Alia tried to swallow the laughter that bubbled up but some of it escaped. Darnation, she knew she sounded like chains being dragged over cobblestones, but surprisingly Talac didn’t wince like many did when they heard her. Instead, the edges of his lips tilted upwards as if he was pleased he’d been able to provoke her amusement.

“So, what does… the Beast do exactly?”

“Do?”

“You’ve built yourself a splendid little fiefdom here at the Lair. You hunt… expertly so, your takedown of that rogue boar was a thing of beauty to behold. But what does the Beast do?”

“I run a business. The butcher takes the meat we hunt, drying most of it. The tannery deals with the skins. Our healers grind the bones and bottle them. The distillery makes mead, sweetening it with wild mountain honey that we harvest quarterly. Our products eventually make their way to the larger coastal and major city markets.”

“Where you sell all your keymoat products at distinct markup prices because the buyers are under the impression the animals live in far off dangerous lands and are quite rare.”

“They are very rare in the Green Hills Realm, indeed. I understand many a hunter travels there and leaves disappointed. Whilst the locals appreciate mightily their tourist coin and bid them come back and try their luck for the elusive creatures another season.”

“And all the pilgrims that walk the long dark roads through the woods to knock at your portcullis… you hire them?”

“We educate them in a trade, or a field of study. They often come to us broken, uneducated, ill… desperate. And in exchange for our help they must work, hard. We are not a charity. We designate a number of years of service that we expect in exchange for our shelter and training. Many choose to stay on after their contract has expired, others choose to move on, with our good wishes.”

“Was Frederick Fa’pugl one of your former charges?”

“You know Freddy?”

“Only by reputation. He’s taking Crested Seas by storm with his building innovations. Many think him a reputable architect who honed his skills across the waters in the likes of the Crystal Isle Realm. I understand every wealthy person who abides at Crested Seas wishes to hire him to build them a bathhouse. One that he promises will deliver endless hot water. Just like I experienced in the bathhouse here at the Lair.”

“We get the occasional reports on his progress, it’s good to hear things are going well for him. When he first came to us, he had issues dealing with… his nerves I guess you would say.”

“And your healers fixed him?”

“I think purpose and hard work helped heal him more than anything. We started Freddy at the blacksmiths, just to haul coals, and within three months he’d redesigned the water system to the forge. After a while he sought out each of our master traders, learned their craft and designed gadgets or systems to aid them in their endeavours. New drainage for the butchers. Better feeding troughs for the horses. And he designed and built our bathhouses. For those alone we praise Freddy’s name daily.”

“Where did he get his ingenious ideas from?”

“You would be surprised at the number of scholars who have made the pilgrimage here to the Lair. Many outcasts, driven from their former jobs because their ideas were considered too radical or out-dated. They arrive generally with nothing but a backpack weighed down with their most beloved books. You should see our library, it’s most impressive. Freddy used to spend hours in there after his work shift, reading. We knew he was on the mend when he began to debate with the scholars, very enthusiastically and very loudly.”

“He sounds like quite the success story.”

“One of many.”

“And yet, I’d never heard of this sanctuary before coming to Gloomenthrall.”

Alia made a show of running her gaze up Talac’s frame, from his shiny expensive knee high boots all the way up to his glossy choppy mane of chestnut hair.

“News of the Lair’s existence reaches the ears of those that need it… I do not think, Captain Talac, that you have ever stumbled upon your chosen path and been unable to get up again.”

“And you just help them? Everyone who bellies up to your portcullis and spills their sob story of misery? You feed them? House them? Invest in them? No questions asked? No one is ever turned away?”

“As I said, we’re not a charity. There are rules of behaviour demanded and expectations set. And there’s a probation period. If, during that time, the pilgrim feels they are unable to abide by our rules, or meet our expectations, then they are free to leave without any recriminations on our part. Alternatively, if we deem them an ill fit to the Lair, we ask them to leave.”

“And if they refuse to learn to kill, what then, do you kick them out?”

“Excuse me?”

Alia was a little bewildered by Talac’s query.

“Please. I’m a military man. The specially designed weapons emerging from your forge. The archery and target fields. The training arena. You have facilities capable of producing an army.”

“An army? Of blind men? Of those missing a limb, sometimes two? Of those that are unable to cease trembling when they hear a loud noise? Oh, I know, an army of women, they do make up a significant number of our inhabitants. Are you shivering in those expensive boots of yours Captain at the thought of facing my minions?”

“If not an army, they why the training?”

“For a military man you’re surprisingly sheltered. We train them for life… nothing more. When others take one look at you and deem you less because you are missing a limb, or an eye, maybe you’re deaf, or merely a woman… then they see you as prey. Everyone who lives at the Lair; man, woman or child, is expected to learn to defend themselves. We’re surrounded by woods full of deadly creatures. And beyond those woods the world is full of predators who roam on two legs and wear clothes. I can’t be everywhere at once, but I can damn well give each and every one of my people the chance to survive until aid arrives to help drive their enemy away.”

Talac’s gaze was fixed upon the crowd, perhaps noting the number missing a limb, or wearing an eye patch. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

“I would see this training.”

“Please.”

She noted his nonplussed look… men, they could be so rude and entitled.

“It’s common courtesy to say please when requesting something. Unfortunately, I must decline your request. Once you return to the Keep, we do not admit casual visitors into the Lair.”

Her stomach took an unexpected dip as Talac suddenly smiled, his grin broad, engaging even… her female kin were seriously blind, because heavens, this man was handsome in a rugged harsh manner that Alia found all too appealing.

“Then it’s a good thing I won’t be returning to the Keep, isn’t it? I would be remiss in my duties if I strayed too far from Brandth’s bedside in his time of need. I can sleep in the stables if there’s no spare bed, it wouldn’t be the first time. Which means there will be plenty of opportunities for you to give me that tour I requested…”

The twinkle in his eyes glittered more brightly for a moment. Talac was clearly up to no good.

“… please.”

Damnation, the way the man said please, in a growly husky tone, as if he’d never said the word before, suddenly making Alia uncomfortably aware she was a woman. Places low in her body sparking with decided interest. Her imagination flaring, wondering what it would be like to hear a man such as this ask for more from her than just a guided tour.

By the nine circles of hell, she was being beyond fanciful and idiotic. A man of the sword like Talac would have no personal interest in a tall sturdy woman such as herself. One more comfortable in breeches and boots than fine silk dresses. Capable of neither cooing, nor flattering his manly ego with insipid chit chat about the weather and long dead poets.

The attention he was paying to her? Talac was nothing but curious about the legend of the Beast… that twinkle in his eyes, that wasn’t personal. If anything, the man was probably secretly laughing at her, thinking her playacting.

Shoulders snapping back, spine stiffening, Alia lifted her nose in the air, still a little disconcerted that she had to look up to meet Talac’s gaze.

“I fear you’ll be nothing but bored trailing after me, Captain Talac. Wasting your precious time when you could be doing an array of other, more important things.”

“Just Talac.. please. And I doubt very much that you could bore me, fair Beast. I find myself very much looking forward to learning all about you, so that I may separate the truth from the fiction. Be prepared to have all your secrets revealed.”

Anticipation building in Talac’s gut, the game, the hunt, had begun.

Those deep blue eyes of Alia’s seemed to all but freeze over. Her expression likewise suddenly nothing but cold and pointed.

“Some secrets are meant to stay buried. I would advise you caution where you tread.”

“Beware of monsters?”

Talac inquired, thinking about the narrow windows, the guards on the battlements and the spiked posts.

“No… beware of the Beast.”

Alia followed her words up with a sharp snap of her teeth, leaping up and diving into the crowd of dancers, instantly disappearing into the merry chaos of the dancing throng.

Leaving Talac behind to consider the riveting woman who claimed to be a Beast and hinted at fangs and claws. His interest he told himself was only because of the novelty factor… and all those secrets that appeared to swirl around the Lair and the woman who ruled it. Once he was satisfied he had uncovered everything of note, no doubt this avid anticipation that clenched his gut would be quelled.

And all these thoughts about Alia, how quick witted she was, confident, and admirably lightning fast with a blade to the jugular… they would no doubt fade, wouldn’t they?