Twelve
Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Caius drew her onward, out of the shadows beneath the gallery and out to the floor. He wore gloves the same as she did, though his were of thin leather while hers were silk. Eyes turned toward them, raked over them as they emerged from the shadows and moved toward the floor, the crowds parting slowly to allow them to continue on.
The orchestra in the corner played a few notes, a few chords, clearly on the tail end of warming up, then followed it with a quick tune, as if to make sure that they were truly ready to play. The conductor seemed pleased enough after making a few more minor tweaks. By then, Elaine and Caius had made it nearly to the center of the inner half of the floor, a circle widening slowly around them even as all eyes remained glued to them.
Caius turned toward her, smiling a sad, almost shy smile. “It’s all right,” he whispered, shifting his grip on her hand. “Don’t think about them. They don’t matter.”
“Then what does?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“This,” he said, then bowed to kiss her knuckles lightly. By reflex, she dropped into a curtsey, managing a faint, only half-terrified smile.
The orchestra struck a cord as they both straightened and Caius reached to settle a hand on her waist even as she, out of sheer reflex, rested her free hand on his shoulder. He smiled at her and she smiled back, a fresh blush creeping across her cheeks.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked in a whisper.
“Of course,” he said.
Then the music really started and suddenly, they were dancing.
Her skirts swirled around them as the moved through the circle of open space that the crowds had formed around them, crowds that she noticed less and less as she focused on him, on his face and expression, on his gaze. He was staring at her as if studying her, memorizing a woman he’d only just met but never wanted to forget.
It was a silly and romantic thought and Elaine wanted to hate herself for it but there was a tiny piece that wanted to cling to it much more than hate it. Maybe it would just be a single dance, but just then, a single dance was all that mattered.
“What are you thinking?” Caius asked about halfway through the song. He was still smiling, still watching her face as he guided her through complicated steps and spins, moving across the floor as if this was what he’d been born to do. There was lightness to his expression now, though, one that hadn’t been there when they’d been up on the balcony before.
Could it actually be that he was somehow enjoying this as much as she was?
“I just—” she stopped, smiled, and shook her head. “I was just thinking how nice this is and how wonderful you are.”
His smile turned rueful, but his eyes crinkled at the edges—it was a real smile, not something for show, not a mask that he wore to hide what he actually felt or thought. There were the faint beginnings of a blush high in his cheeks as he shook his head. “I’m not wonderful,” he breathed, drawing her closer, close enough he could whisper in her ear, close enough that it drew one or two scandalized gasps from the crowd surrounding them. “But thank you for thinking so.”
He spun her, then, and she laughed aloud, his laughter joining hers as she came back to him, their hands clasping more tightly, their bodies closer together, moving as one through the remaining paces of the dance. Caius was flushed by the end, when he stepped back enough to bow to her and she dropped into a curtsey.
“May I have the pleasure of another?” he asked softly as they both straightened again.
“I would be delighted,” Elaine said, grinning.
“Good.” There was something boyish and charming in his smile and her heart soared higher than she thought possible. It was just a dance and just a smile but for some reason both meant more than anything else had in a long time.
She didn’t know what it meant, but she knew it meant something. Eventually, she’d figure out what.
But that would be for later, for now, Caius had asked her to dance again, and she decided that she would dance all night with him if he wanted to.
All he had to do was ask.
By their fifth turn on the floor, the pair was no longer alone. The room had finally begun to settle, and some people had drifted out while others had joined them in dancing, still more clustering in knots of conversation off to the sides, usually nearer to the refreshment tables.
She and Caius didn’t talk much as they danced, just watched each other, each getting a feel through movement and gesture rather than words. Elaine’s heart pounded in her chest, not from exertion, but excitement.
This had not been what she’d expected out of her evening, not by any stretch of her admittedly overactive imagination.
“Another?” he asked in a murmur as she returned to his arms after another spin. Elaine smiled.
“Yes, that—”
She caught movement from the corner of her eye and stiffened. Whether it was her sudden tense or the look on her face or something else, his gaze flicked sideways, but a hair too late. A figure slammed into them, sending Elaine skidding back before she could catch herself. She heard Caius grunt, saw his hand snap out.
Lightning coursed from his fingertips through the man he’d grabbed with a murmured word, his eyes gleaming. The man made a sound that was not quite a cry and slumped, eyes rolling back into his head. Caius’s gaze lit on her and he took two steps before dropping to one knee.
It was at that point that she became painfully aware of the screams around them.
What the hell is going on?
Then she saw the knife and realized what was going on.
“Oh hell,” she breathed, coming two steps forward and kneeling in front of Caius, getting beneath him she he wouldn’t hit the floor. A knife protruded from his back on the right hand side, below his rubs and blood was already starting to slowly seep through his shirt and doublet, staining silver and white a deep crimson.
Caius leaned into her, forehead pressing against her shoulder, his lips moving, forming words she could only barely hear.
“Get out of here,” he whispered, the words almost inaudible. “There could be another.”
Screw that.
“You’re hurt,” she said firmly. “I am not going anywhere.”
One of his hands clutched at her arm, fingers wrapping around it for a moment before he shivered slightly and his hand fell away, as if his strength was fading. Slowly, carefully, Elaine eased him down to the floor, looking around quickly even as she reached for the dagger and the scarlet stain surrounding it. A few people had moved closer, almost forming a perimeter around her and Caius and the would-be assassin who lay unconscious a few feet away, still twitching occasionally with residual energy.
She didn’t recognize any of the people surrounding them, but she did recognize the looks on their faces—horror, determination, helplessness. She took a deep breath, her fingers exploring the sopping fabric around the dagger in Caius’s back even as she focused on two of the people surrounding them. “You,” she said to a woman dressed in navy and gray, “find Lord Dravenwood and bring him here—quickly.” Her gaze shifted to a man in green and brown. “You, come here and help me.”
The woman nodded and turned, vanishing into the crowds. Even as she left and the man in green and brown left the circle, others fell in to close the gaps they’d left behind, the protective circle becoming a little tighter around them. The man in green and brown crouched next to Caius, looking at her.
“Just tell me what you need me to do,” he said quietly.
Elaine nodded, carefully splaying her hands around the dagger, not caring how much blood she got on her hands as long as she was able to help him. “When I tell you,” she said, her voice steady, “pull the dagger out. Don’t hesitate, one smooth motion, straight out the way it went in.”
The man nodded. “What are you going to do?”
“Hopefully put his kidney back together again before he loses too much blood,” she muttered, steadying herself. Her focus narrowed down to the wound, to the arteries and veins that had been severed, the ones that she could sense the deeper she looked using a healer’s magic—her magic. The dagger was keeping pressure on some of the worst of it all—the assassin must have hoped that it’d be pulled out right away, so that Caius would bleed out before anyone could help him. She took an extra second to plan, to figure out what to address first, then cleared her throat. Her fingertips glowed faintly, the green of evergreens and early summer grass all at once.
“Okay,” she said. “On my count.”
“All right.”
“Three.” Her focus narrowed further until the room started to fall away. The man in brown and green wrapped his hands around the dagger, ready to pull it on her signal. “Two.” She drew a little more power, ready to start pouring it into Caius’s wound as soon as the dagger was out of the way. “Go.”
The man in brown and green pulled the dagger free, as quickly and smoothly as she’d hoped he would. Even before the tip cleared the wound, she was at work, mending the worst of the damage in those first few seconds, both hands pressed hard against the wound to staunch the bleeding. Her magic poured into the wound, knitting artery and vein with thin threads of magic, of power. With practiced skill, she tied off each small spell, part of the greater whole designed to save his life.
Time passed, but all she was aware of was her work and the fact that Caius, though unconscious, was still breathing. So completely focused on healing, she didn’t hear the ripple that went through the crowds, the sudden silence in the air, the tension that rose a notch or three.
She heard Acalon’s voice, though, as he reached the edge of the circle. “Who’s responsible for this?”
“That one,” someone said, pointing to the man on the floor behind Elaine, the one that had gotten a nasty jolt courtesy of Caius after the initial attack.
“Take him into custody,” Ascalon said, his tone one of command. There was a faint thread of anger and something else beneath it, though.
Fear?
“We’ll get our answers from him once he’s conscious,” Ascalon continued, then turned to look at the crowd still milling around. For a second, he seemed on the verge of saying something further, then exhaled and moved closer to Elaine and his wounded brother, dropping to a knee beside them.
“Is he stable enough to move?” The question came as a murmur in her ear. Elaine took a deep breath and nodded.
“Yes. Yes, that should be fine. Better, probably—certainly more comfortable.”
Ascalon nodded and squeezed her shoulder, straightening. “You there, get the hall cleared. I think we’ve all had more than enough excitement for the night.” He glanced toward Joslyn and motioned her over. “Scarlet, help me with him.”
Elaine blinked. “Wait—”
“You said it was safe,” Ascalon said, moving to start lifting Caius from the floor. “Is it?”
“I mean, yes, but be careful.” Elaine swallowed hard. “It’s not fully healed.”
“Never is,” Ascalon said grimly as he lifted his brother. Scarlet rushed to help. Elaine watched, heart in her throat. Caius’s face was pale as death. Had she somehow miscalculated when she’d asked for the dagger to be pulled out? Had she hesitated too long?
Stop. Stop. You never second-guess yourself like this. It’s fine. You did fine. He’ll be okay.
Elaine took a ragged breath and followed Ascalon and Scarlet as they began to carry Caius away. Behind them, several people were starting to clear the hall, Caius’s guests slowly trickling out the doors at the head of the room even as Ascalon and Scarlet carried Caius toward the back of it. Elaine chewed her lower lip, hurrying to keep up. Even carrying Caius, somehow the pair still moved faster than she did.
“What happened?” Ascalon asked as they ducked through a hidden door beneath one of the galleries and into a hallway. “Don’t leave anything out.”
“I didn’t see much,” Elaine admitted. “We were dancing. It was getting near to the end of the song and he asked me if I wanted to dance another and I said yes. Then someone came out of the crowd—the man you saw on the ground—and ran right into Lord Caius. We lost our grip on each other and the next thing I saw was Caius grabbing him and channeling lightning into him. Then he dropped him and started moving toward me, but he didn’t make it. When he went down on one knee was when I saw the dagger. The bastard stabbed him and gods only know why.”
“Do you think he made someone angry?” Scarlet asked quietly as they rushed through corridors, heading deeper into Weatherstone’s keep. Suddenly they were on a winding staircase heading upward. Elaine swallowed hard again, this time against the bile rising in her throat.
“He told me to get away,” she said, her voice barely audible. “That there might be more. He was—” she stopped before she could say scared. Was that really what it had been? “—concerned.”
“Caius has some enemies, that’s for certain,” Ascalon muttered as they continued upwards. Elaine lost track of the distance, but it felt like those stairs went on forever. She kept her gaze on the spot of crimson on Caius’s back, trying to gauge if it was any worse.
She couldn’t know if it was or not with her magic unless she was touching him.
“But would one of them have made a move this ballsy?” Scarlet pressed. “This feels all kinds of wrong, Ascalon.”
“Damn straight,” he muttered.
They reached the top of the stairs. A small landing awaited them there, one with a door set several feet back from the end of the steps. Ascalon made a beeline toward that door and opened it without breaking stride, moving inside with his brother still in tow. Beyond the door was a small study, and beyond that study was a bedroom, visible through the half-open door at the far end of the room. They headed there, Caius giving no indication of waking even as Ascalon laid him on the bed and started undressing him.
“Then what does it mean?” Elaine asked quietly as she knelt against the edge of the bed, taking one of Caius’s hands between both of hers. Her eyes slid shut as she mouthed the words to a diagnostic spell, assessing his condition a little more closely than she’d been able to downstairs. It was heartening to find him relatively stable, if suffering a little from blood loss and the obvious trauma. At least he didn’t seem to be in shock despite his pallor and unconsciousness.
“I don’t know,” Ascalon said, his voice soft. “But we’ll find out. Trust in that—somehow, we’re going to find out and someone’s going to pay for this. This sort of act—“ his voice hitched. “This sort of act doesn’t go unanswered.”
“Is he all right, Isolde?” Scarlet asked. “Will he be?”
Elaine nodded quickly. “Yes. As long as he takes it easy and rests, I think so.” She exhaled a sigh of relief, then let go of Caius’s hand, moving to start unlacing his boots so Ascalon could concentrate on other parts. “I just—I don’t understand why someone would want to do this to him.”
“People do stupid, wrong-headed shit all the time,” Ascalon muttered, gently lifting his brother to strip off his ruined tunic and the shirt beneath. “I’ll have some bandages sent up so you can bind everything, Isolde. Assuming that you’re willing.”
She blinked at him, startled. “Of course I’m willing,” she said. “I’d hate to leave the job half-done. There’s a part of me that wants to stay until he wakes up, but I’m thinking that might not be until morning.”
“Like as not,” Ascalon murmured, staring at his brother for a few seconds. “Thank you for everything tonight. You have—you have no idea how much it’s meant.”
Elaine gave him a faint, warm smile. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said quietly. “But I appreciate it all the same.” She took a deep breath, then, and exhaled it slowly. “Frankly, sorting out who did this and why? That will be all the thanks I need.”
“Those are answers I intend to get,” Ascalon promised. “You can rest assured of that.”
“Good,” Elaine said, softly, simply. “That’s all I ask.”
That, and that whatever bastards decided that Caius needed a dagger in the back pay for their poor judgement—one way or another.
