Page 128 of One True Love (Love Mark 1)

I looked up at her, my mouth sagging open. “There’s a fucking tunnel under this mountain.”

Her smile was charmed. “Yes, I know.” Taking my hand, she led me inside.

We stepped down, me ducking my head again because it was a tight squeeze with more low ceilings. I just loved low ceilings.

As we left the light from the outside world, I realized this place was lit from within; torchlight glimmering below. The further down we went, the more I could hear ahead, like men working, metal clinking against metal, voices of people calling out instructions, the rattle of chains.

“What—?” I started in confusion as we reached a squat room at the base of the steps only to find myself surround by sheets and sheets of thin clear rock, piling up nearly to the ceiling. “This is where clear rock’s made,” I said in awe.

“It is.” Vienne turned to me, grinning, as she bobbed her head, affirming it.

Just then, four men came in, each of them carrying a corner of a massive sheet of transparent clear rock.

“Howdy, Vienne,” one greeted. “We weren’t expecting you today.” He glanced at me only to smile back to her. “Everything okay out there?”

“Yes, of course,” she offered with an easy smile. “I just wanted to speak with my grandfather, if he’s around.”

I whipped my face in her direction. “Grandfather?”

“Oh, I’m always around,” a new but weathered voice announced. I spun back to watch a stoop-shouldered man with a shock of wild white hair and an equally untamed white mustache hobble toward us with the use of a wooden walking staff. He paused to crank his head to the side so he could look up at me. “Looks like you brought company today.”

“Sir,” I said, bowing low before him. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Urban Bjorn.”

“Oh, and a polite one, too.” He winked at Vienne before turning back to me. “Wren Mandalay. Nice to meet you, sonny.”

“You…” I pointed. “You’re…” He was one of the two founders of Donnelly. Too stunned to say any more, I just blinked at him.

For some reason, I thought he’d be long dead by now.

“Bjorn?” he was saying on a frown. “Met a couple Bjorns in my day. One of them even ruled the realm of High Cliff, I believe.” Then he squinted and peered closer to me. “Yes, you must be from there; you bear one of those silly marks they get.”

“Grandfather,” Vienne chastised softly. “The marks aren’t silly. His ended up saving my life, and it helped me save his right back.”

“What’s that, you say?” the old man asked her, squinting and shifting his head to the side as if he were hard of hearing. Then his bushy white eyebrows perked up. “Hey, you’re not pregnant anymore. Had the baby, did you? Was it a girl or a boy?”

“A girl,” Vienne announced, beaming. “And I named her Anniston. After Grandmother.”

“Did you, now?” Face blooming with approval, Mandalay nodded and glanced up at me. “My dear Anniston came from your High Cliff.” He pointed his finger at me. “She had one of those silly marks too. Marched right up to me the first time we met and told me we were going to wed.” Nodding solemnly, he announced, “Best day of my life.”

As I grinned over his story, Vienne shook her head and frowned. “I never knew she came from High Cliff.”

Mandalay nodded, sadness dimming his brown eyes that looked strikingly like Vienne’s. “Yes. If she hadn’t died before you were born, she probably would’ve told you all the stories. She was the daughter of a High Cliff dignitary who was sent to Lowden as an emissary to try to talk peace negotiations with the Graykey king at the time. But alas, Graykey slaughtered her parents and would’ve gon

e after her next if I hadn’t helped her escape.”

My eyebrows lifted. “I remember hearing that story in my history lessons when I was young. The emissary was Anatoli Moast, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right,” Mandalay said, tapping my arm. “Anatoli was her father. He was a good man.”

“From an honored family,” I added on a nod as I glanced toward Vienne in a new light. Moast was a strong, noble, well-respected clan in High Cliff. It was enlightening to learn Vienne came from their line. Now I knew where she’d gotten that aggravatingly loyal nature of hers.

She met my gaze, unspeaking.

“One of the soldiers who came to Donnelly with Allera and me is from the house of Moast,” I told her. “I wonder if he’s a second or third cousin to you.”

Her eyes flared with shock. “Really? I’d be interested to meet him.”

“Sure.” I shrugged. “Indigo’s a good man. I think you’d like him.”

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