Page 70 of Enthralled

Castien turns to me then, his expression contemplative. “And are you ready yet to share your secret with me, Mage Darlington? Because I still cannot fathom how you managed it. I know what a wonder you are with the pen, but to have succeeded where all the Miphates of history have failed? That is unexpected even for you, my brilliant wife.”

I smile softly but shake my head. “It was Vervain who saw it first. It’s all in the naming—the true name. We used their names for bindings, but those names were not true enough. They did not capture the essence of the wraiths. Only their true names could do that. Only recognition and release.”

Castien nods slowly and takes my hand. He walks with me back along the hall of vaults, and we both feel the pressure of the spells contained behind those doors. All those angry creations which, one by one, must be faced, named, and set free. “It won’t be easy,” he says after a long silence.

“No,” I agree. “But we will do it in the end.”

I stop at the book lift, ready to climb aboard. Castien catches my wrist. “Now, now, Darling, you do recall the library rules, do you not? Book lifts are for books, or so Nelle Silveri once insisted.”

I indicate my abdomen. While I can’t claim to have grown significantly in the last few days, I feel the swelling and the weight and would even swear I have the beginnings of a legitimate bump. “And do you expect me to take the stairs, my Prince?”

He pulls me into his arms, presses my head to his chest. “I’d offer to carry you myself,” he murmurs, his lips in my hair. “Though I don’t know if I can bear this tremendous bulk any better than the lift.”

I smack his arm and start to pull back, only for him to scoop me right off my feet and kiss me soundly. I kiss him back, my hands in his hair, strangely aware of all the haunted books watching us from their shelves and through their vault windows. But I don’t feel unsafe. The library is peaceful, the Noswraiths subdued. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the atmosphere was distinctly hopeful. As though they know they will soon find rest, though they will fight with everything they have to resist that rest. But that fight can come later. For now I kiss my husband. Kiss him with all the joy and passion of seven lost years. Kiss him until I’m drunk and silly on his love.

Castien lets me come up for air at last. I gasp, clinging to the front of his robes, and lean my forehead against his neck. “I feel so selfish,” I admit.

“Why is that?”

“Because you are here. Our baby is here.” I place a hand on my stomach. “Here with me.” I sigh and shake my head. “I was just with Mixael before I came to find you. His wife and child are in another world entirely. I don’t know how he can bear it.”

“No doubt he is relieved to know they are both safe.”

“Safe? Are any of them safe?” I’ve not wanted to consider the question too closely, and I’ve certainly been kept busy enough to keep such worries at bay. Nonetheless the image of Estrilde encroaches on my mind. “Lawrence warned that your cousin would not be a welcoming hostess.”

Castien curses softly but offers me a gentle smile. “No matter how bad Estrilde is, she doesn’t compete with a horde of ravening Noswraiths.”

“I’m not sure I agree.” I look up at him again, gaze into his vivid eyes. “Is there no chance of repairing the gate, my love? Of opening a way back to Aurelis, of retrieving my children and our people? Now that the library is stable once more and the city is relatively secure, would it not be better to bring them home?”

He shakes his head sadly, setting me back on my feet at last. “I haven’t the power. I’m too far cut off from Aurelis and cannot access the fullness of my magic. Besides we’re so far gone into the Hinter now, to reconnect with Eledria would take a tremendous act of magic, the kind of magic you only see when a fae monarch first comes into power . . .”

His voice trails away, and his gaze drifts from mine, staring into empty space over my head. I sigh heavily, and my fingers toy with the embroidery on his lapel. “I suppose we must start getting used to life out on the Hinter then. And I hope—”

Castien lets out a whoop and swoops me off my feet, whirling me in a flurried circle of petticoats. “Darling, you genius!” he exclaims.

I’m still dizzy when he sets me back on my feet, kisses my forehead, and darts for the stairs. I watch him go, jaw slack, wondering what in the name of the seven gods just happened. With a sigh I turn back to the book lift. It’s all well and good for him to go racing off at a moment’s notice, but I’m not climbing ten stories in my current condition, thank you very much.

Lir stands close beside Anj beneath the crystal dome of the library. She does not take his hand, but there’s something protective about her stance, as though she would like to place herself between him and Castien. I don’t know who she is more concerned for—theHrorarkleader or the Prince of Vespre. They have not exactly been allies over the last many turns of the cycle. While the events of the last few days may have drawn them temporarily into uneasy cooperation, they have every reason still to look upon one another with suspicion.

Three days have passed since Castien’s burst of inspiration down in the lower vaults. Though he sent a summons immediately, it has taken this long for Anj to respond. The restoration work in the city has consumed the troll leader, and in the end, I suspect he would have ignored the summons entirely. So I took matters into my own hands and, against Castien’s express wishes, ventured into the city myself. I sought out Lir, however, not Anj, and explained the Prince’s plan.

That did the trick. Her eyes wide, Lir stared at me like I’d grown an extra head before light dawned in her gaze. Then she clasped my hands in hers. “I’ll find him,” she declared. “I’ll bring him. I’ll drag him up by his hair if I must.”

Whether or not she resorted to such extremes, Lir was true to her word. Now Anj stands in the library once more, looking simultaneously confused and perturbed, his arms crossed over his huge, bare chest. He does not bow when Castien emerges from the stairwell leading up from the lower library and hastens toward him. His face is a hard, stone mask.

My husband, by contrast, offers a brilliant smile. “Anj, my friend!” he exclaims, his long coat billowing behind him as he approaches with long-legged strides. Though I vividly remember doing up each and every button of his shirt myself at the start of our day, somehow half of them have come undone, and his silk shirt hangs open rakishly. Even now, married woman that I am, the sight brings a blush roaring up my neck. How is it that an unbuttoned shirt works such a profound effect on me when Anj’s near nakedness leaves me utterly unmoved? Some ongoing effect of Castien’s glamour perhaps.

He catches my eye as he draws near, takes note of the color in my cheeks, and quirks a knowing brow before turning his attention to the tall troll. “What do you say, old man?” he asks, jutting out one hand. “Are you ready to become King of Vespre?”

Anj stares at that extended hand hovering in the air between them. His expression remains utterly blank at first but slowly morphs into one of such deep confusion, I would almost think he didn’t understand what was just said. He turns from Castien to Lir, who smiles broadly. She touches his arm and nods, murmuring something low and urgent in troldish. The line of his jaw tightens. “You said ten turns of the cycle,” he says at last, addressing the Prince. “Ten turns before you returned the rule of Valthurg to the people of Valthurg.”

“Under the circumstances, I think we can all agree seven turns is plenty.” Castien takes another step forward, hand still outstretched. “Come now, Anj, we both know you still hate me with every fiber of your being. Don’t you want to get rid of me once and for all? This is your best chance. Take the kingship and all that it entails. When the power of ancient Valthurg flows in you, use it to reopen the first gate between this realm and Eledria. You can use this very gate—the bones are still there, even if the connection is broken. Reestablish that connection and send me through to my own realm. Once I have secured my rule, I will work together with you to reestablish this island in conjunction with the rest of Eledria. Together, we can drag Vespre back from the Hinter, make fast the anchors, and save us all.”

Anj’s expression looks more and more horrified as the flood of Castien’s enthusiasm washes over him. Lir, by contrast, is positively giddy and scarcely waits for the Prince to pause for breath before she jumps in. Speaking in rumbling troldish, she squeezes Anj’s arm. Anj turns to her and shakes his head, uttering protests I don’t understand. I don’t need to know the words to see the disbelief in his eyes. The magic Castien describes is on such a massive scale, far beyond anything Anj ever hoped to wield.

“Don’t worry,” the Prince says when Anj finally turns from Lir to face him again. “Once I’ve reclaimed my kingdom, my own strength will increase tenfold. I won’t say it’ll be a simple matter to rebuild the gates on my end, but I will do it. And I will find all the trollfolk we sent through and return them home. Moreover I swear that from this day forth you will have an ally in Aurelis for so long as I and my heirs shall live.”

Finally Anj nods, though his face is still wary. “And the books?” he demands. “The Noswraiths?”

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