Page 64 of Chained Knight

What the hell?Ari watched, oddly detached, as if a true-crime episode was playing on a TV trapped behind a store window. The officers trained their pistols on the blond man, and when the lightning flashed again his shadow was malformed, as if wrapped in a giant snake’s dull black length.

A jolt went through the glass castle, from the depths where the restless dead were married to contagion and the hopeless to polished metal, cresting at the highest needle-spire which now began to crumble. The prince chained-no-more slipped his arm around Ari’s waist and bore her swiftly through the ruin; she sagged in his grasp, her hands creeping up to clasp behind his neck.

38

GRACE, EARNED

The Mirrored Citysank slowly into a vast yawning chasm, towers toppling and walls grinding to powder as the Moon slipped fully from her consort’s embrace. A day could pass swiftly, watching such a spectacle.

By late afternoon the corpses of the Bright King’s servants had been swallowed whole, tumbling into the earth’s embrace, and the rumbling receded as if to a distant seashore. A vast pillar-cloud of dust rose before thinning rapidly, shredded by clean moving air. At sunset a bare earthen plain stood where once the drained, colorless Blight had spread, and the Spires sang a mournful note as they witnessed the change.

The Road still passed through, its golden glimmer unaltered. A high sharp-featured line of purple peaks lurked at the revealed horizon, a single diamond star winking from its tallest summit. “What’s that?” Ari wondered, and shook her head.

She hadn’t meant to speak.

“The Whispering.” The prince beside her, no longer in dull dark armor but linen, leather, and velvet, regarded the faraway gleam. “We shall visit it soon enough, never fear.”

Behind them equines stamped and chuffed, well pleased to be resting with their fellows. Jazarl and Darjeth—the latter’s wound healing swiftly since the Bright King’s infection was now wholly purged—exchanged tales in a low murmur. A small ring of black stones from the Spires’ feet surrounded a bright blue flame, crackling merrily without visible fuel as Hannixe sat watching, her head resting upon Keners’s shoulder. Occasionally the Fox bent to press his lips against her temple, and each time she smiled.

Leshe moved among the equines with Sarle, her questions light and rapid, his answers lower, more considered. Alzarien stretched out, propped against a saddle, his arm healing as well and his hat pulled low as he contemplated the blue flames. Majan examined arrows one by one before sliding them into a quiver, for he wished to be prepared upon the journey to the Keep.

Though there was little danger, Naithor pointed out, with their queen returned and their lord prince unfettered. Majan agreed with a nod, and handed over a handful of arrows for the bronze-haired man to inspect as well .

Ari’s arms did not quite ache, though she hugged herself hard as she watched evening gloom rise in waves, more stars peering through indigo veils. The prince chained-no-more stood close, the edge of his body’s heat deeply comforting.

How long would that last, though?

“Is it a door to the mortal world?”I have to know. She held herself stiffly, tense and ready. The others were too far away to hear, but she felt their worried glances. The Carcanet’s warmth was friendly; she tried not to feel it, imagining how they would ask her to give the jewel back.

“After a fashion.” He turned slightly, and his gaze was a weight as well. “Did that realm treat you so well you long to return, then? Or do you wish to…”

She squeezed a little tighter, holding herself together. “I just want to know.”You have what you needed. Am I going back or staying here?

“The Underdark will be fully healed anon.” He made a slight, dismissive motion, as if it didn’t matter. “Soon enough a door may be found wherever we please. I would, though…”

“You would what?”

Another small, restless movement. It ended with his arm touching her shoulder again, the lightest of pressures; there was no spiked iron between them but the habit of space remained. It would probably take some time to fade, Ari thought, just like she would continue to flinch at the sound of breaking glass or any series of dry, heavy clicks.

For a long, long while.

“I would have you stay,” the prince said, finally. “What must I do, to earn that grace?”

“Oh.”That’s… not what I expected.Ari’s arms loosened. Finally, she could take a deep breath. Her skirts moved, a soft friendly whisper. Deep dark relief filled her like the warmth of a magic drink, like the sound of freedom through car windows as a trap receded in the distance, like air reaching starving lungs.

“Ariadne.” His hand found her elbow, cupping gently. “I warn you, I will not… You have sought escape before. If that game pleases you, I will play again. As many times as it takes.”

Well, that’s probably not healthy, but… She tipped her head back, gazed briefly at the stars, and brought her chin back down, that faraway silver glitter atop the mountains finding an answering pulse in the Carcanet. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Stay. Please.” He paused. “Will you?”

Ari’s mouth felt odd, because she was smiling. She turned to a prince chained-no-more, rising on tiptoes, her hand braced on his arm. Muscle was hard and warm under a velvet sleeve, and he leaned into her touch.

The name finally came free. He bent more than willingly, and she whispered in his ear.

He nodded. “At last,” he said, softly, and his arms closed around her. Their companions looked away, amused or simply polite, as the Moon kissed her lover at the edge of a freshly healed blight.

And all of Underdark sighed with the evening breeze.

finis

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