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I should have been chilled by his words, but the sheer delight in feeling that I’d cracked part of the puzzle—and that the PTSD had released its dreadful grip—gave me a bright and cheerful confidence.
Any scientist could tell you that this was always the sign of a false breakthrough. Those promising first results just never seemed to pan out.
I put my hand up to take back the horseshoe and he gripped my wrist. “Will you let me keep it, my Gwynn?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“I can think of only three things I want more.”
*
Of course hewouldn’t—or couldn’t—tell me what the three things were, though I teased him about it as we walked. It turned out we were quite close to Castle Brightness. Which didn’t seem possible, given what I thought I knew about the landscape, but I was going to have to give up some of my attachment to the physical laws that had governed my previous world. A leap of faith into the absurd had to be full immersion. No picking and choosing. Accept the precepts of the new working hypothesis. Anything less was counterproductive.
Rogue led me along the banks of the stream, assuring me the others would meet up with us. Gradually what appeared to be old-growth forest gave way to younger trees, and then to the ordered apple orchard I recognized as the one I’d seen from my room at the castle when I’d stayed there.
I pointed to the round fruits that hung glowing with rosy gold allure, heavy on the branches. “What do you call these fruits?”
Rogue barely glanced at them. “They’re poisonous—don’t touch them.”
Astonished, I surveyed the rows upon rows of the trees, clearly tended, yielding a bountiful harvest. “Why grow poisonous fruit—and so much of it?”
He shrugged, uninterested. “I don’t spendmytime doing it. Blackbird comes from a strange family. They’ve long dabbled in odd practices.”
“You don’t wonder at all?”
Rogue snorted, squeezing our interlaced fingers. “You have more than enough curiosity to get us both destroyed, my Gwynn. I endeavor not to add to it.”
“I thought you couldn’t die.”
“There are worse things that death.”
A sudden thought occurred to me. “Is Fafnir still alive?”
He went deadly still. Without looking at me, he spoke. “I will say this once. Don’t go there.”
Funny how my mind translated the expression he used. It carried all the unutterable implications of a curse. Doomed all ye who enter here.
Without another word, he resumed walking through the idyllic grove of deadly fruit.
We emerged from the orchard to find Castle Brightness rearing above us, in all its alabaster gilded magnificence, colorful pennants flapping gaily in the breeze. Looking up, I spotted what had been my room and a frisson passed over me. I was circling back upon myself, it seemed and a small, endlessly terrified part of myself quailed at the thought that my prison might be next.
Rogue released my hand and pushed his under my hair to grasp the base of my neck, steadying me.
I nodded in answer to his unasked question and looped my hand through his arm for our grand entrance. Blackbird, along with her staff, waited for us with grand formality. They all sank into deep obeisances that likely said more about Rogue’s status than mine. Still, I was struck by how much I’d come up in the world since my last visit. At least I looked a hell of a lot better, which was something.
“Greetings, Lord Rogue, Lady Sorceress Gwynn. You honor Castle Brightness with your presence.” Blackbird looked the same as always, dark hair drawn back into a smooth knot, black eyes keen, hands folded neatly under her maternal bosom. I couldn’t quite picture her as the sultry trophy princess languishing in a tower.
“It’s good to see you too, Blackbird. Has everyone else arrived?” I felt blunt for asking, but it bothered me that none of the party was in sight.
“Oh yes, Starling is having a bit of a lie down. Lord Darling is, I believe, hunting mice.” That seemed likely, as I recalled his penchant for the castle’s fat and lazy rodent population. “And your servants are either preparing your suite or pitching in for the feast.”
“The feast?” I echoed.
“Of course.” She beamed at me. “To celebrate your betroth—” She cut herself off, though I didn’t hear or feel Rogue warn her in anyway. Her thoughts skittered on insect legs and her gaze flicked to my empty earlobes and away again. “—surprise visit!”
“We’re just here to talk.”
“And talk we shall!” She clapped her hands as gaily as the pennants fluttered, and abruptly I saw through her elaborate dance. Fear resonated from her, a tuning fork of high emotion. “But for now, let’s get you tucked in.”
