Fifteen
Twenty minutes after she’d gotten the message, Elaine was in game, on horseback, heading up the winding roadway to Weatherstone’s perch on top of the cliffs overlooking the sea. The morning was quiet, the sun still rising, and much of the city behind her was still asleep at this hour. It was, after all, Saturday morning, and it was well before nine eastern. As she drew closer to Caius’s stronghold, she could see the massive gates were closed, flanked by armed guards.
It seemed that Ascalon—or perhaps Caius himself, since he’d been awake to at least send her that letter—was taking no chances with his safety, at least not right now. For that, Elaine certainly couldn’t blame him. He’d been stabbed in front of hundreds of witnesses.
I wonder if they’ve gotten anything out of the would-be assassin.
For some reason, she doubted it.
“Hold,” one of the guards called as she approached. She reined up, turning her horse to the side as she met the man’s gaze. He stared at her, hard, eyes like twin bits of flint beneath the rim of his helm. “His lordship is seeing no visitors today. Your name and business.”
“Isolde Caomhánach,” she said, chin lifting. “Lady Arenvale. I’ve come to check on his lordship’s condition after last night. I’m the healer who tended him.”
The guard exchanged a look with his partner. The other guard let out a whistle to someone out of sight. “Let her through,” he rumbled. “His lordship ordered she be admitted.”
The gate opened, the gap in it just wide enough for her to guide her mount through. Beyond it, a stablehand came jogging from somewhere to take her horse. Behind her, the gate closed again, softly, though with a clank that suggested security, finality. Elaine glanced back as she dismounted, then shook her head at herself, adjusting the bag she carried so it settled more comfortably against her spine. She smiled at the stablehand who took her mount’s reins.
“Thank you.”
The young man nodded. “Of course, m’lady.”
Then he led her horse away and she was left standing in the courtyard, staring up at the oak doors to Weatherstone’s keep. She had to take a few deep breaths before she felt steady enough to mount the steps heading to those doors. There was no reason to be nervous, she tried to remind herself. He’d anticipated her coming—had basically asked her to.
Who was she to deny him?
Besides, she wanted to see him again and needed to make sure that he was, in fact, all right after last night’s events.
A servant opened the door before she could even knock—either they’d been watching, or somehow alerted to her presence. Elaine offered up a smile and slipped inside, only to be met by still another member of Caius’s staff, who bowed at the waist.
“Lady Arenvale,” he said, his voice rumbling. “Please, allow me to escort you to m’lord’s chambers.”
A shiver crept down her spine, but Elaine nodded. “Thank you. Please, lead on.”
He straightened and did, taking her through a hidden door and down a narrow corridor to a staircase that felt familiar. He led her up the winding spiral stair, though he paused before they reached the top.
“If m’lady continues up this way, she will find m’lord,” he said, studying her for a few seconds. “I will bring up a tray shortly with refreshments.”
Then he was gone, leaving her blinking at the spot where he’d been. Elaine shook herself and took another deep breath, then turned and continued up the stairs—another flight and a half by her estimation—to the landing she remembered from the night before. The doors to Caius’s rooms stood closed and he hesitated a moment before knocking. There was no immediate answer, so she tried the knob—unlocked. She eased the door open and slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind her. Unlike every other door in the keep, the one into Caius’s bedroom stood ajar, though only slightly, and through the sliver, Elaine could see him in bed, his back to the door, apparently asleep or otherwise resting.
A sigh of relief escaped her and she silently padded across the floor toward the door and where he lay in bed. He stirred as she got close, half rolling onto his back with a wince, one eye cracked blearily open.
“That was quick,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and perhaps the effects of a pain draught. “I can’t say that I expected you so quickly.” He offered up a smile then, and her heart that had begun to sink instead soared again. “Though I am certainly not unhappy about it.”
“Well, let’s just say I didn’t have any plans for the morning beyond what you suggested,” Elaine said, a wry smile curving her lips. She unslung her bag and set it on the bedside table, then unfastened her cloak and laid it over a chair. Caius shifted in the bed, his gaze following her as she moved.
“Thank you for last night,” he said quietly. “I can’t tell you how much it meant.”
“I only did what any healer would have done,” she said quietly. “I told your brother that.”
“No.” Caius shook his head slightly, gingerly pushing himself into a more upright position, propped up against his pillows. “Not that. Before.”
“Before?” She looked at him, brows knitting. “I don’t—”
“You let me feel something real,” he said, still watching her, pale eyes gleaming under dark lashes. “More real than anything I’ve felt in a long time. Do you have any idea how isolating it can be? To be—to be what I am?”
Elaine sank down on the edge of the bed, meeting his eyes. They were very, very blue, the blue of a sky at the height of summer, bottomless, endless. She swallowed hard. “No,” she whispered. “No, I suppose I don’t.”
“I haven’t ever danced at one of those,” he said, still watching her. “Not even the first I held as lord. I always stood aloof. I felt like I had to. Last night…” his voice trailed away. Elaine cleared her throat.
“What changed?”
“I don’t know.” Caius closed his eyes for a moment. “I wish I did. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was you being there.”
Elaine started to shake her head. “I don’t—”
“Either way,” he continued, “I don’t regret it and I’m very glad you’re here. I’m glad I didn’t scare you away, that whoever decided to put a knife in my back didn’t drive you away.”
“It’ll take more than that to drive me away,” Elaine said softly. She was blushing and knew it. Caius didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he said nothing. “I’m made of some rather stern stuff, you’ll learn.”
Caius smiled. “I admittedly look forward to it.”
A lump built in her throat and Elaine swallowed hard, trying to shove it back down again. The way Caius looked at her, spoke to her, sent her heart careening through her chest with reckless abandon, made her feel things that she’d never considered. She reached over and touched his hand where it lay on top of his covers. Caius turned it over and grasped her fingers gently.
“You, m’lady,” he said softly, “are a woman of rare quality, I think.” His eyes glinted and his grin grew a little wider. “And don’t you dare say that I flatter you.”
“Well, I think you are,” Elaine said, smiling back. “But as you are my lord, I will bow to your opinion.”
That made him laugh, which in turn made him wince, his free hand going to his side. Elaine murmured a soft curse, her own free hand chasing his, the words to a spell already on her lips.
“Easy,” she said quietly. “Easy. You need to rest so that will heal properly.”
“I know,” Caius murmured, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. “By the powers above and below, I know. But I’m not used to playing the invalid, not these days.”
Elaine shook her head slightly, her spell delving into the wound to see if he’d undone anything she’d worked the night before—he hadn’t, just tugged on some of it a little. No broken sutures, nothing worse than what she’d found the previous night. Another spell rose to her lips and she whispered the words. She watched as Caius relaxed markedly, eyes blinking open to regard her with relief and perhaps a little awe.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“Of course,” she said softly, reaching to check his forehead and cheeks for fever. A diagnostic spell could have done the same, but sometimes the older, more familiar methods were more reassuring—and that, at least, was half of what most patients needed.
Is he really just a patient, though?
She brushed the thought aside as she withdrew her free hand. Caius still had custody of the other one and didn’t seem inclined to release it anytime soon. “Doesn’t seem like you’re running a fever,” she said quietly.
“I take it that’s a good sign?” He was smiling. Was he teasing her? It was hard to know.
Elaine smiled back, nodding a little. “At this stage, I’d say yes. We’ll have to keep an eye on it, but at least this means for now things are as they should be. Have you felt anything strange?”
“You mean other than feeling like there’s a hole in my back?”
She gave him a level look. “Yes.”
He shook his head, sobering. “No. No tingling, burning, itching, nausea, chills, fever, nothing. Nothing to suggest that maybe the blade was poisoned.”
Elaine’s brow arched. “You’ve been through this before.”
Caius shifted uncomfortably in the bed. “Only once,” he said quietly. “And let me be the first to tell you that I am more shocked now than I was then.”
“So it doesn’t happen very often,” Elaine said softly. She stopped trying to examine him further, just sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hand even as he held tightly to hers.
He shook his head. “Three times,” he said, then amended, “that we’re aware of. I suppose there could’ve been others that didn’t get close enough for us to realize what they were or things we chalked up to a nasty case of food poisoning. We almost chalked the second one up to that until we found the vials.”
“Vials?” she echoed, tilting her head slightly.
Caius sighed, nodding. “Yeah. They tried to poison Ascalon and I but they left the vials in the bloody kitchen at the inn where we were staying. One of our friends found it while Ascalon and I were bedridden with what I thought was the worst bout of food poisoning I’d ever had.”
Elaine let out a low whistle. “Shit. That—what happened?”
“Well, we never caught who did it. The poor innkeeper was mortified. He couldn’t be sure who was responsible but he gave us descriptions of all the people who he remembered coming in and out of his kitchen that night, but gods know that he couldn’t have possibly seen or remembered everyone.” Caius shrugged slightly. “We let it go and no one ever spoke of it again except in private, never in mixed company.” One corner of his mouth curved into a slight, rueful smile. “You’re the first person I’ve told outside of that circle. I suspect that Scarlet probably knows, too, but probably not many more people beyond that.”
Her cheeks heated in a blush and she glanced down. “I appreciate the confidence.”
He squeezed her fingers gently but firmly. “You earned it.”
“I was just in the right place at the right time,” she murmured, assuming that he meant the events of the night before. “I only did what any healer would have done.”
Caius just smiled. “Not any healer,” he said.
She looked up, met his gaze. Her breath caught and she had to swallow hard. There was something in his gaze that got her heart going a little faster, that gave her a hint that maybe he wasn’t talking about the role she’d played in saving his life after he’d been stabbed, that maybe it was something else, something different.
“I—”
“I’m glad you came,” he said again, his voice quiet. “I’m glad you’re here.”
For a few seconds, she just stared at him. “Oh,” she finally said, sighing out the word as little more than an exhaled breath. “You’re lonely.”
He smiled sadly, blinking something away. “Ascalon said you were a dangerous one,” he said softly. “That you saw things that sometimes other people didn’t.”
She swallowed hard again, edging a little closer. “I don’t understand.”
Caius shook his head, the smile fading and his gaze growing distant. “It’s okay. I mean, you hit the nail on the head. There’s not a lot of people I’ve let inside and that’s maybe a failing of mine. But there was something about you that made it easier.”
“I’m not sure what,” she said, her soft tone matching his. His fingers tightened around hers again, maintained the pressure. It wasn’t unpleasant, not at all. “I’m just me.”
“Maybe that’s what it was,” Caius said. “Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe you’re just different.” He shifted slightly, leaning back against his pillows. For a few seconds, his eyes slid closed and he didn’t say anything. Elaine stayed there on the edge of the bed, watching him. His fingers tightened more, then loosened a few seconds later.
“Maybe you should rest,” Elaine whispered. “I can get you something for the pain.”
“It’s not bad,” he murmured. “Not as bad as I’ve felt, anyway. I’ll be all right.” He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again. “And I want you to stay.” Some color rose faintly in his cheeks as he stared at her. “Though if you want to pull back, I completely understand. I know it’s a little much all at once. I mean—you met me last night.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, no, it’s not that, I just—” her lips thinned and she tried to collect her thoughts. “I just don’t want to intrude or overstay.”
“I don’t think that could ever happen,” he said, then smiled. “And I’m rarely wrong about that kind of thing.”
“Confident, aren’t you?” she said with a crooked smile.
He grinned back at her. “I’m told it’s both a fault and a strength of mine—that and the stubbornness.”
“I could see that,” Elaine said, still smiling. “Regarding both—both ways.”
Caius shrugged with one shoulder, tugging her hand gently. “You comfortable sitting there? We can go sit out in the sitting room if you want. I think I can make it that far without falling.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Bed’s soft.”
“Too soft sometimes,” he murmured. “There are days I don’t want to claw my way free of it.”
Her brows knit. “Why not?” she whispered.
His smile was sad. “That,” he said, “is complicated.”
