78. Duke Whitlock
Chapter seventy-eight
Duke Whitlock
N ight had long since fallen when they finally emerged from the tunnels. The moon and stars shone as bright as midday light after the long dark they had travelled through. Flat grasslands and streams lay before them, running off from the snow-capped mountains at their backs. To the east loomed a dark keep surrounded by a stone wall, topped with flickering blue torches, and patrolled by armed guards every few steps.
“Rialtus Keep was once the winter refuge of my family,” Solveig murmured, her voice cracking audibly as she fought to get the words out. She stared up at the looming castle that had once held so much hope, warmth, and promise for her. Now it stood only as a stark reminder of everything she had lost.
“It was falling apart with disuse, and they sold it off to the Whitlock family, who then took over daily command of the southern villages and ports. Under our tight reins, of course.”
“You came here a lot, didn’t you?”
“I spent more time in the walls of the keep and Erynmar Academy than I ever did in High Tower Castle,” she murmured, kicking at a tuft of grass. “That place was never a home to me.”
“How long has it been?”
“I haven’t been back since before his funeral.”
Emmerich grasped her hand. The warmth comforting her weary soul. “With time and distance, you can lock away even the most painful of memories, but coming face-to-face with them? That breaks them open as surely as a key to its lock. Perhaps this is what you need, the last goodbye.”
Solveig tore her hand from his. “I said my goodbyes,” she seethed, turning to head toward the keep. “I’m here only because we have no other choice. Unless you wish to walk back to Marrelin City without food or rest, Rialtus Keep is the only warm bed we will find. If I had a choice, I would never step foot in these halls again.”
Emmerich stared after her, confusion and longing cluttering his mind. “One day, Solveig Maleen, you’re going to have to face every dark piece of your soul. The choice of whether you face it alone or with someone to help you from falling is yours and yours alone.”
Solveig didn’t acknowledge him as she walked to face the memories that lurked within the shadowed halls of the keep, leaving him to hurry after her. As they approached the locked gates, a voice called from above, echoing their greeting at the dock.
“State your business or be on your way.”
“Princess Solveig Maleen, seeking an audience with Duke Whitlock, I sent word this morning.”
The guard nodded, his gaze moving to the prince. “And you, boy?”
“I’m merely her highness’s servant.”
The guard stared down at them for a moment before waving a hand in a silent command that saw the gates groaning on their hinges as they swung open. Bidding them enter. Within the walls of the keep, a sense of foreboding peace fell, with the trickling sounds of water and flickering blue lights to chase away the shadows. Somehow, it was still home. Solveig fought back the emotions warring to the surface, the tears that threatened to clog her throat as the doors to the keep flew open. There at the top of the stone steps, a man raced down, pulling a surcoat over his shoulders.
Her resolve broke then as she raced into the arms of the Duke of Rialtus Keep. A kindly man of strong build, silvering blonde hair and creases around his ice-blue eyes.
“Never thought I’d see your face brighten these halls again,” he whispered, pressing a kiss atop her hair, holding her in a tight embrace.
“I wish I could say this was a social call.” She stepped back. “But I’m afraid I must ask for your help.”
“Anything you need is yours.” He smiled, pulling her into another hug. But as the duke’s gaze drifted over to the prince, it hardened, the creases about his eyes and forehead deepening.
“Who might this be?”
“Prince Emmerich of Elithiend,” Solveig answered, much to the prince’s shock and dismay.
“You can wipe that look off your face,” she said to Emmerich. “The duke is the one person in all of Torrelin you can trust.”
Duke Whitlock released Solveig to approach Emmerich, shaking his hand in a grip that bordered on too tight. “Both of you are welcome to stay as long as you need, though I am afraid that despite your note, you have caught me unawares. Many of the rooms are locked up for the winter already and most that aren’t are still being reinforced. You’ll have to share.”
“Not to worry,” Solveig sang, “the prince is used to sleeping on the floor by now,” she joked, eyeing Emmerich, daring him to argue.
“Right,” he replied tightly, as though he wasn’t already privy to the knowledge of how she felt curled against him in the night. Of the noises she made when his mouth was on hers.
Somehow, Solveig fell into a dreamless sleep despite the memories that plagued her thoughts. In every shadowed alcove, every lit hallway and every creak of floorboards, Aldrik’s face, his laugh, and warmth invaded her consciousness. He was at the heart of this place, having spent many of his last years seeing it restored. A task the duke had kept up in his son’s memory.
She feared the memories that daylight would bring. When she would walk the halls alone that they had once walked together. Would the portraits of their childhood, of every part of their lives, remain? Or had it been too painful for his parents to look upon day after day now that his laughter no longer filled the quiet halls?
The night deepened, and with it, nature spun her web. Wind howled through the mountains at the Keep’s back. As though the storm had circled back to enact further suffering on their already exhausted bodies and frayed minds. Solveig tossed and turned. After a few hours of fitful rest, she woke surrounded by the darkness of midnight to a room black as pitch. The stars beyond the window veiled by a cloud drenched sky. The moon tried in vain to gild her surroundings in silver light, but succeeded in only adding further unease. Manifesting eerie shadows in the corners of the bedchamber.
She was frightfully hot beneath the heavy sheets, yet shivers still wracked her body, gooseflesh dancing up the pale length of her strong arms. With the wind creating its own cascading operatic masterpiece beyond the walls, Solveig decided it was useless trying to sleep further. She hopped down from the bed, careful not to trip over the prince whom she knew could sleep through the end of the world if he were so inclined. But he was nowhere to be seen. The floor was utterly devoid of life. An empty pallet dressed in fur rugs, thick sheets and feather stuffed pillows lay cold beside the bed.
Her blood turned to ice in her veins as all her worst fears echoed in her mind. She’d brought the enemy into the heart of her country. Though they were still miles from the capital. Rialtus Keep held secrets that could bring a nation to its knees. She knew her family had not been thorough when they abandoned the keep for ruin decades earlier. Many times, in her younger years, she had come across old tomes and documents containing pertinent secrets that belonged under lock and key.
She had to find him before he stuck his nose in something he had no business knowing. She had opened her arms and almost her heart to his treachery, but she would not surrender her kingdom to the might of his. No matter how she felt about the rulers, both living and metaphysical.
Every step sounded as though it would wake the entire keep. The groan of ancient floorboards echoed all around her. The usual silence of her steps was a distant memory in a place such as this. She would have had to fly to be silent and even then, she was sure the beat of wings would reverberate off the stone walls.
A lifetime spent running through these halls in search of privacy with her lover had its advantages. Even as she desperately tried to block out the distant memories, she could not deny the usefulness of knowing what waited at the end of every darkened hallway. She checked the kitchens first, hoping he had innocently awoken in the night, same as her, and had simply gone for a drink. But found only a servant against the far wall beside the stove, trying to stay warm beside the flame.
“They couldn’t give you a blanket?” she asked, voice sharp as the crack of a bell, startling the boy to his feet, sending the stool he had been perched upon clattering to the floor.
“Your Highness, forgive me; I did not hear you enter,” he stammered, wiping his hands on his breeches in a nervous tick.
“Don’t trouble yourself. It is the middle of the night. You should rest instead of freezing to death down here.”
“I do as my master commands,” the boy shrugged.
“I don’t remember your master being so exacting.”
“Will you be joining them, miss? I can prepare you some food and drink too,” he asked, changing tack.
“Joining who, where?” Solveig’s eyes narrowed.
“The duke and your companion. They have been down in the library for the last hour. They were settling in for a long night.”
Solveig spun, the skirts of her nightgown and robe rustling as she moved. Leaving the servant dumbstruck in her wake. She moved as fast and quiet as she could, but the keep did not aid her. Floorboards creaked with every other step, no doubt alerting the two men to her presence. The closer she got, the louder the hushed melody of arguing voices became. She watched, waiting, trying to catch words in the air, but it was fruitless. The two men had the power of Aire in their veins and could send messages along the wind meant solely for their ears if needed. Irritated with waiting, she grabbed a sconce from the wall, calling out to the two men sat within.
“Isn’t it rude, gentleman, to whisper in the darkest places when you have other company around?” she said with a bored air. Emmerich’s dark gaze skewered her, seeing straight through her nonchalance to the suspicion laced beneath it.
“The winds stole our sleep far sooner than yours. I was merely asking the prince tales of his kingdom to pace away the long dark.” The duke smiled, his kind eyes warm and honest.
“Indeed.” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, eyeing the men. “You won’t mind if I join you?” she took a seat between them. “I am dying to hear tales of far-off places.” Solveig met Emmerich’s stare head on as she leaned toward him, her eyes never leaving his as she reached for the perspiring glass of untouched ale before him. Taking a long sip before settling back in her chair, not bothering to adjust her robe as it gaped open slightly at her chest. Neither did she miss his gaze, as it dropped for barely a second. A smirk crossing her face as his eyes lifted back to hers, fighting a silent battle that neither of them wanted to yield.
“Please don’t stop on my account.” She blinked with false innocence. Emmerich cleared his throat to continue his story, looking anywhere but at her.
“When I was younger, I used to run through the kingdom without care, as though nothing and no one could touch me. Until my grandmother sat me down and began spinning mystical tales of worlds and powerhouses. Of things that had been, and things that would be. She would tell stories of what she saw in my future. Warning of how even then, in the relative safety of Elithiend, there were still those who sought to do me harm. Cautioning that I would play a part in whether Elithiend would flourish or fall.”
“No wonder your ego is so big, with a grandmother spinning grand tales of destiny. Such words are blasphemous in these lands. May I remind you, Prince?”
“My grandmother hails from an ancient line of Seers, Your Highness. I will not denounce her lineage just because you and yours have forgotten the old ways.”
“The old ways were lies. Treachery meant to maintain the stronghold Estrellyn held over the kingdom.”
“Ah yes, because life on the mainland has been bountiful since the fall.”
The duke cleared his throat. “Now children, you could argue until the mountains thaw, but I doubt it would serve any good. We hail from lands of differing beliefs, but that does not mean we cannot get along despite them.”
“I cannot accept his version of the world,” Solveig declared.
“Only because you’re too frightened to acknowledge the truth that’s staring you in the face,” Emmerich countered.
Solveig flew to her feet; chair clattering behind her, nightgown and robe swishing across the floor as she left. Only for the prince to grab her arm, pulling her back to him.
“Release me,” she seethed through clenched teeth, eyes burning.
“What are you so afraid of?”
“I fear the fall of my kingdom. I fear the blood of innocents on my hands. I fear destroying everything for my own sake.”
“Perhaps it needs to fall, for you cannot continue this way.” Emmerich implored.
“Watch me.” Solveig wrenched her arm free and stormed from the room, leaving the duke and the prince to finish putting their worlds to rights. She instead went in search of the one place she had been sure she would not enter, and yet now it was the only place she wanted to be.
She crossed echoing hallways; past archways and locked doors, racing up the spiral staircase of a towering turret on the eastern end of the keep, until she reached the top. She inhaled a long draw of air before reaching for the tarnished copper handle, twisting to find it unlocked. With another breath, she pushed it open. Coming face-to-face for the first time in four years, with every broken piece of her soul, kept like a history book in this one room.