Summers at Castle Auburn (6 page)

“If I thought such a bait would make you careless, I would have brought him years ago,” Jaxon said. “Go ahead—try to take him. It will give me just the edge I need.”

She laughed, and I heard the sound above all others in the night. I wanted to hear it again, I wanted it to be the last sound I heard in my final living moments. “Oh, no, I have not yet grown so tired of my life that I wish to turn it over to your safekeeping, Jaxon Halsing,” she said. “The prince stays with you.”

“Some other member of my party, then,” he suggested. “The prince's cousin. He's a fine young man, intelligent and good-hearted. Try for him. Not an ill prize if you should win him. Or Roderick, the tall one with the good aim. You might take him back to your encampment and make a fine slave out of him.”

“Unlike you humans, we do not take slaves,” she said in her musical voice. “Those who live with us do so by choice, and are glad to be among us. They are treated as equals, valued as friends, and loved because we love all our people.”

“No way to prove that,” Jaxon retorted, “since not one of them has returned to sing of your glorious treatment.”

“Unlike the aliora who have escaped from your confinement,” she said swiftly, “who tell tales of wretched captivity.”

I thought I saw Jaxon's teeth gleam in a smile. “There is little wretchedness in the prince's castle,” he remarked. “Even the aliora sold at the Faelyn Market go to homes of refinement and wealth. No one would mistreat an aliora. They cost too much on the open market.”

“And no aliora would enslave a human—or any creature,” she responded, and again her face seemed to me more tragic than beautiful. “How could you be so cruel to a nation who has done no harm to you?”

“Ah, yes, you with your soft words and sad entreaties can almost
make me forget,” he said. “But I know the hunters who have disappeared into your woods. I know the children who have been lost wandering the edge of the forest in Tregonia. I know the tales that go back long before men like me began setting their traps for creatures like you. You began to steal us before we began to steal you. And we have lost many more loved ones than you have.”

“You have lost them because they chose to come to a world far more gracious and wondrous than yours,” she replied. “In Alora, the streets run with magic—you inhale rainbows when you breathe. The air is scented with cinnamon and decorated with song. No man lives in want, no child goes unloved, and the contentment of your heart makes every day a joy. This is true for the aliora, and it is true of the humans who have chosen to live among us. Come to Alora. See for yourself.”

Jaxon laughed shortly. “Yes, and be taken prisoner myself! Never to return to tell my family and my friends about my wonderful new life.”

“Come with me,” she repeated, extending one spider-thin hand. Moonlight glowed along its long, white length, glinted at the fingertips. “I promise you that you will be allowed to return if you so desire.”

“And to how many men have you made that promise?” Jaxon scoffed, but there was something odd about him now. He seemed to be leaning toward her as if a terrific force inclined him in her direction, mightily though he resisted; his arms and his back seemed knotted with tension.

“To all I have invited with me to Alora.”

“And how many of them have returned to the haunts of man?”

“Not one,” she said, “but not one of them wished to.”

Now Jaxon rolled to his knees, as if impelled by that great external coercion; still he seemed to struggle silently against some impossible desire. “And you think I would not want to?” he said, what I could hear of his voice sounding scraped and raw. “You think I would cross the boundaries of Alora with you and choose to stay forever?”

She still had her arm exftended toward him. Now she came a
pace nearer and turned her hand palm-up in invitation. “Ah, Jaxon, you wish to come with me,” she whispered, but even so I heard the whisper. “You have long wished to see my home, to live with me among the beautiful people. You would not be lonely another minute, my friend—you who are so lonely now that you stay awake night after night for the companionship of a campfire. I know your heart, you see. It is bitter and empty and full of regret. Come to Alora, and all that will be washed away.”

“I cannot come,” he said, his voice very low.

“You want to come,” she replied.

“No.”

“You do. You wore no gold into the forest, Jaxon. Why was that?”

“So you would be unwary enough to approach me. One step nearer and I will snatch you up and bind you in chains.”

She floated closer by an inch, maybe two. It was then I realized that the aliora's pose was as tense and painful as my uncle's, that she yearned toward him with an equal longing. Her pale fingers trembled in their own ghostly light, and her face seemed shut tight against both dread and desire. “Is this close enough, Jaxon?” she asked. “Can you touch me now?”

“I warned you,” he said.

“Closer still?” she murmured. “Would you like me to lay my hand across your cheek? Would that convince you to follow me across the river?”

“If you touch me, you are lost,” he said.

“If I touch you, and you with no gold upon you, you are mine,” she retorted. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to touch you?”

He made no answer. The night was unbearable with stress; I could not move nor breathe. Both of them seemed to tremble with an uncontrollable emotion that kept them weighted in place even as it propelled them forward. Then suddenly there was motion too swift for me to follow. It seemed as if Jaxon leapt for her and she shot away, for there was a whirl of gowns and blankets and suddenly she was twenty feet from him. Jaxon was on his feet, breathing hard
and staring harder, his hands clenched at his sides and his face a study of anguish.

She was laughing. “Not this time, Jaxon,” she called to him, her voice carrying over the distance and over the sound of water. “Not for you—not for me.”

“I'll return,” he said. “Often and often.”

“I will await you,” she said, and disappeared.

Yes, she did, she disappeared, because I did not take my eyes off of her. One moment she was there, white and glowing against the streaky blackness of the night, and the next moment she was gone, not even a sparkle left behind. My tiny gasp was covered by the gurgle of the river, and by Jaxon's sudden stomping around the campsite. He stalked some distance away as if to release some frightening energy, and he rubbed his hands up and down his arms as if he had suddenly grown cold. I could not tell if he was disappointed at missing the chance to capture the aliora, angry that he had come so close to surrendering to her—or if some other emotion, mysterious to me, kicked him down to the river and back. He did not look any happier or any calmer as he came close enough to the fire for me to see his face, and I was wise enough not to let him know that I was awake.

What could you say to a man, after all, after witnessing such an encounter as that?

He had brought some logs back with him and built up the fire, so I was careful to lie as motionless as possible. He sat there for some time staring into the flames, then he dropped to the ground again and rolled himself in his blankets. Though I lay open-eyed for another thirty minutes or so, he did not make another sound, and eventually I fell asleep.

 

I
N THE MORNING
, Jaxon made no mention of his adventure from the night before. Roderick was the first one to rise, but just by emerging from his tent he startled Jaxon and me awake. The guardsman crept to the fire with a few branches in his arms, and then moved less quietly once he saw our open eyes.

“How'd you sleep?” he asked, squatting on the ground and feeding fuel to the coals.

“As well as a man can on a hard ground,” Jaxon said cheerfully enough. “You, Corie?”

“Oh—I don't think I stirred all night,” I said a little hastily. “Just fell right asleep and stayed there.”

Roderick slanted me a sideways look. “So much for admiring the beauty of the stars,” he commented.

I was tempted to reply that the beauties of the night were very impressive indeed, but I didn't want to rouse Jaxon's suspicion. “Maybe next time,” I said vaguely.

A few promising young flames were licking at the wood, and now Roderick added a good-sized log. “No aliora dropped by unexpectedly, I take it?” was his next question.

Jaxon glanced around. “Well, not that I know of,” he drawled, “but who knows that they didn't go raiding the tents? I guess we should wake the others just to make sure they're safe.”

“Let them sleep,” Roderick suggested. “If they're not safe now, they're beyond our help.”

Jaxon laughed and agreed. The two men set out to make a breakfast meal while I headed down to the river to freshen up. While I splashed vigorously in the water—
much
cooler at this time of day and not nearly as much fun—I pondered over the strange events of the night before. Clearly Jaxon did not want any of us to know about his odd conversation with our midnight visitor. Clearly Jaxon and the aliora had met often before, had sparred and whispered to each other across many campfires over many years. Clearly each wanted desperately to get power over the other.

Was it possible he had brought us all to this campsite at this river solely and specifically for a chance to meet up with this aliora again?

I scrambled up the bank to find all five men heading down. “Watch the fire,” Kent told me as he passed me, “and keep your eyes turned away from the river. All of us need to strip down and clean up.”

Soon enough, we were all washed and reassembled, eating the porridge that Jaxon had concocted. No one was too talkative and it
was clear to us that the adventure was on the downward slope of excitement. Now we faced the long trip back without the illustrious goal before us. It was hard to be entirely lighthearted.

“Might be one more night on the road,” Jaxon observed. “Depending on the time we make today.”

Bryan rose to his feet. He had not so far said a word. “Then let's strike the tents and be on our way.”

 

I
NDEED
,
THE TREK
out of the forest seemed five times longer than the journey in, and no one made much effort to alleviate the others' boredom. As before, Roderick amused himself, drifting off to hunt or merely enjoy the scenery while the rest of us trudged down the endless green miles of forest.

Once we broke clear of the woods, we had a collective improvement of mood. Kent fell back to discuss something with Roderick, while Damien actually ranged ahead of the group. I, by some great and never to be sufficiently appreciated stroke of fortune, found myself riding beside the red-haired prince.

“The fish you caught yesterday were the best part of the dinner,” I said, partly to open the conversation on a note of praise and partly because it was true. “How did you know to bring fishing line with you? I would never have thought of that.”

He glanced down at me with the slightest frown. “We were going to a river, after all,” he pointed out.

I smiled—my best oh-I'm-just-a-silly-girl smile, in which I very rarely indulge. “Well, maybe I'll think of it next time. But you caught so many! What bait did you use?”

He laughed shortly, suddenly and deeply pleased with himself. “A few slices of that dayig fruit,” he said. “Everyone else seemed to find it so delicious, I thought the fish might.”

I laughed with him. “Well, the fish was wonderful—the dayig was wonderful—the whole trip was grand. But maybe you missed all the formal dinners and meetings with ambassadors.”

“There will be plenty of that waiting for me when I get back,” he said. “Dirkson of Tregonia will be there with his daughter,
Megan, and I'll be expected to squire her around for the next week or so. She's a tiresome girl, always trying to get me to flirt with her. I swear, her only notion of a conversation consists of me telling her how beautiful she is and her replying, ‘Why, thank you, Bryan!' ”

Coming from Bryan, this was actually exquisite humor, but I was shocked nonetheless. “Flirt with her!” I exclaimed. “But you're betrothed to Elisandra!”

He flicked me a smiling glance, and I saw a touch of that arrogance that had been missing since the night before. “She doesn't want me to
marry
her, she wants me to pretend to be in love with her,” he said. “You are not at court often enough. You do not know how these games are played. A little dalliance in the garden—a few whispered words in the hallway—everybody does it, and it means nothing.”

Unexpectedly, he held out one imperious hand. I laid mine against his palm, wondering, and he squeezed my fingers lightly.

“I'll show you how it's done,” he said. “I come across you in the breakfast room, perhaps, and you've just finished your tea. ‘My, Lady Coriel, don't you look fresh this morning?' I say. ‘The color of your gown so exactly matches your eyes—I feel like I could drown in them, they are so blue and so deep.' And then you say—”