Page 22 of Love Beyond Words
“Thank you so much. I’m sure I could’ve managed it myself.” It was a complete lie, but as this was surely a task anyone from this time could do in their sleep, I thought it best to pretend that I was equally as familiar with the process.
Righting himself as the flames grew, Paton turned to smile at me as he brushed away my thanks.
“No need, miss. Tonight ’twas my job. Tomorrow, Nicol will see the castle lit at night.”
I smiled at his use of miss when all of the other men would’ve said lass. It confirmed what I already suspected. Paton was the baby of the group.
“Well, thank you all the same. Have a good night.”
“Ye, as well. If ye need anything, I willna mind if ye wake me. ’Twould be better for ye to do that than go traipsing around the castle in the dark. There are far too many corridors for ye to get lost in unless ye are verra familiar with the castle. My room is at the bottom of the stairs, to the right.”
As he closed the door behind him, I placed both hands on my hips and turned to look at the room and started to laugh. There was no way for me to brush my teeth or my hair—only a basin of cold water to splash over my face. While the thought of going to bed without brushing my teeth did ick me out a little, it was no bother to me that I would have to forgo my nightly ritual of proper skincare. A few days—or even weeks, for that matter—of a good water cleansing wouldn’t kill me. What made me laugh was thinking of Marcus and the reaction I knew he must be having in his own room.
He was remarkably high-maintenance for someone with so little hair, and I knew having to pee in a small basin would horrify him.
Smiling to myself at the thought of Marcus stomping around his own room cursing everything and everyone in this castle, I washed my face as best I could, used the less-than-ideal facilities, and crawled into bed in my dress.
The bed was surprisingly soft and with the number of warm blankets spread on top, I found that while it was significantly lumpier than my modern memory foam bed, it wasn’t uncomfortable in the least. What was uncomfortable was the binding of my dress. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep with it on.
If every one of the men within the castle walls hadn’t been perfectly respectable at dinner, I might have hesitated to strip down and sleep in the nude when there was no way to lock my door, but I knew Morna in a way that Marcus never would, thanks to the story she’d gifted me so many months ago, and I knew she wouldn’t have placed me here if I was in any real danger.
Sighing with relief as I loosened the laces and allowed my breasts to spring free, I shimmied out of the dress and crawled happily into bed.
I was lulled to sleep by the slowly dying fire.
* * *
Raudrich could see nothing in the darkness of night. All he could make out was the faint glow of the moon. He couldn’t see the road ahead or spot any branches that might be hanging down in his way on the forest path. He only knew they were drawing close from Pinkie’s descriptions of what surrounded them.
Daylight was difficult enough, but once the sun went down, he caught glimpses of the fate he would face if the rest of The Eight were unable to heal him. The one hope he had was that his vision had not grown worse since leaving Allen territory, which meant that the progression of his blindness was indeed somehow connected to his time away from the castle and the fact that their spell of binding on the faerie buried below them was pulling more strength from him now that Timothy was gone.
Pinkie was a talented navigator, which more than made up for his bawdy language and incessant chattering. The man had as much stamina for riding as he did, which allowed them to ride more quickly and for longer stretches than he’d expected. He was worth more than the amount he’d paid him. The journey would’ve been entirely impossible without him.
“I believe we are here. I’ve never seen such gates in my life. Just who is it that ye are trying to keep out of here?”
Pulling his horse to a stop, Raudrich dismounted and, with his arms in front of him, carefully made his way over to the gate.
“These gates are not intended to keep others out. They are intended to keep a great evil in.”
Pinkie laughed.
“Is it a three-eyed monster, then?”
Raudrich placed both palms on the gate as he felt around for the delicately hidden latch. “’Tis far worse. Surely, ye have heard the stories of this place?”
Pinkie’s tone was surprised and more somber when he answered.
“Aye, o’course, but not many such stories are true.”
Grasping the small lift that only The Eight knew was there, he felt the gate give way enough for him to push it open.
He was more certain of his steps on his way back to his horse. He knew the land around this castle like the back of his hand. He could make the remainder of the journey alone.
“Aye, well, the stories of this place are true.”
Pinkie spoke quietly and Raudrich thought he detected fear in his tone.
“Ye are a druid, then? One of the mysterious Eight?”
