Chapter 15
Guinevere
As far as I can tell, it’s been two days and three nights since Alaric took me from Blackthorn and left me in the woods.
I sit in the same spot in the castle ruin without moving or speaking until the sun rises and the gargoyles return to their places on the walls.
While the sun is up, they are stone. As frozen and unmoving as if they truly were statues.
I may as well have turned to stone too. I do not rise. I do not eat. I do not sleep.
As the sun sets, they slowly start to wake, but I remain where I am. The truth of their words has set in, chilling me from the inside out. Even if my father still lives, he can’t see me like this.
As the forest grows dark, the statues of the castle come to life again, and by the time stars wink from the gaps in the canopy, they gather around me, whispering quietly to each other.
“What should we do?” Raban mutters to Corvin.
Corvin flicks his tasseled tail. “What can we do? Imagine how she must feel.”
évandre shakes his head at the other two. “Don’t you remember when humans once lived in our castle? Have you forgotten so quickly?”
“It has been nearly two hundred years!” says Raban.
“She may be dead, but she’s still a princess. She needs comfort. She needs a hot bath and soft, pretty things. She needs to be surrounded by beauty.”
“The bathhouse!” Corvin slaps a furry thigh.
“Don’t you worry, princess,” Raban grins. “We will have you in a nice hot bath in no time.”
I’m about to ask how they propose to make me a bath in the middle of a ruined castle, but they’re already rushing away.
“Fetch the boxes from the queen’s chest,” calls évandre to Corvin.
“I’ll get flowers.” Raban leaps into the air, and with a few sweeps of his feathered wings he’s off, swooping to snatch the pretty pink blossoms that sprinkle the bushes growing from every crevasse in the courtyard.
Rising from my nest of leaves at last, I join the hounds who caper around my legs.
As soon as the gargoyles decided on this task, the mood in the castle lifted.
Even I am finding it hard to stay morose at the prospect of a bath.
My skin is clammy and smeared with mud and dried blood.
My hair must be a matted mess. It would be so nice to feel clean again.
The gargoyles carry armfuls of sticks and wood through the courtyard.
Then they follow with bundles of cloth and a large wooden chest that looks so heavy it should take two of them.
Corvin lifts it easily, making quick work of the trip.
Curious, I follow them around behind the tallest of the still-standing walls to find évandre bent over and stretching to reach in through an opening at the base of the wall.
He sits back on his haunches and smiles at me. “There. Fire lit. It should be warm in no time.”
I frown. “The bath is in there?”
They just laugh at me.
“No, princess,” says évandre. “Follow me.”
He leads me back into the courtyard and through an arch into a ruin of what must have once been a small chamber. What I didn’t notice at first is the trapdoor in the floor. Probably because it was covered with dirt and debris.
Corvin sweeps aside the mess with one clawed foot and lifts the door, revealing a wide stone staircase which descends below ground.
Holding a torch high, Raban leads the way.
Once we have reached the bottom of the staircase, even évandre, who stands a head taller than the other two, can straighten.
Their wings give them more trouble, taking up the entire width of the corridor.
Because Raban is ahead of me, I can barely see anything until suddenly we come to an opening and two things hit me immediately.
Warmth coats my skin, welcoming me into a room glittering with thousands of shining tiles in blue and white.
I gasp aloud, staring in wonder at the round room and the delicate mosaic that adorns the walls, filled with seashells and dolphins, leafy trees and waterfalls. “It’s beautiful.” My whispered words fill the space, echoing around the tiled room.
“We thought you might like it.” Raban hangs his torch in a niche, and Corvin moves to open the large wooden chest he must have brought down earlier.
Inside there are bolts of cloth which look relatively untouched.
He lays one on the floor by a sunken basin filled with steaming water, and I step closer, looking into the pool, trying to gauge the depth.
I want nothing more than to slip right in, but that will mean getting undressed. Chewing my lip, I glance at my new friends.
The gargoyles watch me expectantly.
“What are you waiting for, princess?” asks Corvin.
“Perhaps you need help to undress?” Raban steps forward.
I cough and instinctively raise my hands to my cheeks to feel a blush that never comes.
“I will manage.” I look again at the steaming water.
Raban even sprinkled flower petals over the surface so a floral smell floats sweetly around us.
I could demand that they leave, but they have been so kind and generous. And I don’t know how they would react.
They are statues after all. They must have seen plenty from their perches on the roof.
Perhaps they’re not even men. After all, who would bother carving that sort of detail into a guardian angel or a gatekeeping sphynx?
And what modesty have I left to protect after Alaric ripped it from me by force?
Decision made, I tug off my jacket and untie the lace holding my torn chemise together.
Without second guessing myself, I drop it to the ground and untie the ribbon holding up my skirts, discarding those too.
Raban bends, scooping my dirty clothes from the floor and placing them aside, reaching for my boots.
Naked apart from my shoes, something light and fluttery ignites low in my belly as the handsome monster bends his shaggy head and lifts my foot onto his knee, gently unlacing it. He slips it off, and I switch my weight to the other leg so he can remove that one too.
Raban lifts his head, and for a moment I almost stumble. The look on his face as he gazes up at me is all heat and awareness. Full of masculine admiration and raw need. I feel far less certain that my new friends are impassive observers.
Nothing to be done now, though.
Raban releases my foot and stands, stepping back and dropping his gaze, and just like that the heat is gone. I almost wish it back again. Almost wish for the heat and the buzz of energy.
Brushing the unwanted thought away, I step into the bath and sigh at the kiss of the warm water. Trying to ignore my self-consciousness, I descend the steps until at last the water covers my chest. Then I let out a long sigh.
“Better, princess?” évandre asks eagerly.
“Thank you.”
Gingerly I wash the mud and blood stains from my skin, leaning back to wash my hair. They hand me soaps and a comb. They even crouch by the bath to brush out the tangles. Somehow the bath stays warm and the room loses none of the lovely steam.
“How is the bath heated?” I ask Corvin, who is brushing the last of the knots from the ends of my hair.
“The heat from the fire we lit outside travels through passages beneath the bath house. Clever, is it not?”
“Wonderful.” I wish we’d had something like this to soothe the chill of long cold winters back home. Thinking of home makes me sad, though, and I fall quiet again.
In the awkward silence that follows, I try to find something to say. “How long have you lived here?”
Raban smiles. “Since we were made to guard it. Perhaps three hundred years ago.”
“So… you are three hundred years old?”
“True.”
“But what happened to the people who used to live here? What happened to the castle?”
évandre shakes his head. “There was a war and we couldn’t save them.
Some of our brothers were damaged. Some smashed.
We are all that remain. Even now one of our brothers who survived the war stirs no longer.
I suppose that is the fate that awaits us all.
One day the sun will set, but we will remain frozen. ”
This makes me sad.
Raban shrugs, perhaps sensing the change in my mood. “But not this night. Nor the next night, I think. And now we have a new princess to care for. That gives us purpose.”
The others murmur their agreement.
“Then will you help me?” I look between them hopefully.
évandre smiles. “Of course. We are made to be guardians. We have been growing moss waiting for someone to take care of since our humans were taken from us.”
“Yes, but will you help me?” I stand from the bath, pulling their offered cloth around me, grateful for the steam which keeps me warm. “I need to get back to Blackthorn Keep on the other side of the forest.”
Raban’s face falls. “That’s the one thing we cannot help with, princess. We’re bound to the castle. We cannot go out of sight of this place.”
I stare at him in frustration. “Have you ever tried?”
“There would be no point. It is who we are.”
Turning my back on him, I reach for my dirty clothing, only to find it has been removed. “Where are my clothes?”évandre holds out a bundle of things to me. “We will wash them for you. For now, take these.”
The garments he holds out to me are beautiful, despite being a little dusty.
They were once ornate robes, fashioned for a queen or a lady of high standing.
Heavy velvet skirts with beaded details; delicate underthings with fine stitching.
They do not suit my purpose at all. I must prepare myself to leave this place as soon as possible.
“Have you nothing else? More suited for activity?”
He seems to consider. “There are things made for the prince, before he died. He was slight. Taller than you, but we could make them work I think.”
I thank him, and the gargoyles leave to fetch the new clothes. Left alone, I lean over the bath, trying to catch a glimpse of myself in my reflection, but it is too dark. I see only a blur.
Will anyone recognize me as the princess, or have I changed so much? Would they pay me any heed if they did? All my life I’ve been treated like baggage to be passed around or burden others. Something to be traded, bought, and sold. If I order the guards to arrest Alaric, will they listen?
Even if they do, it might take very many of them to overpower him.
I will have to be sneaky. To hide a blade and wait for the opportunity to get close to him. And if I have the chance, I’ll have to strike quickly. I doubt he’ll give me a second. I know from experience how fast and strong he is.
I have no doubt I’ll be condemned for it afterward. No one would murder the queen’s man and go unpunished. Though, up until a few days ago I would have thought no one could murder the princess either. Is there any law left in Erenvold?
The only problem with my plan is if it forces me to choose between revenge on Alaric and ridding the kingdom of Melantha. In my heart of hearts I know who is the greater threat, but I also know for whom my anger burns brighter.
I will just have to find a way to slay them both.
I sigh. In order to do either of those things, I must return to Blackthorn Keep.
If the gargoyles cannot help me, I’ll go alone. After all, what’s the worst that could happen to me now?
As morning comes closer and the sky lightens, the gargoyles prepare for their rest. évandre lifts a heavy longsword and adjusts his wings, preparing to fly up onto the remains of the central keep. “Wait,” I say, just as he crouches.
He stops. “What is it, princess?”
“Do you know how to use that? The sword?”
“Of course. We are guardians after all.”
“Then could you teach me?”
He gives me a strange look. “What for? You have us to keep you safe now.”
I bite back the words to tell him I want to leave. Somehow that feels unkind when they’ve tried so hard to make me feel welcome. “For the day, when you are sleeping.”
Corvin ruffles his wing feathers, but Raban gives me an approving nod. “That is a good idea. I will help.”
“As will I, tomorrow.” évandre gives me a little bow and then leaps into the air to take his perch.
I’m not sure what made me think of asking the gargoyles to train me to fight. I cannot afford to wait long enough for that. Even now it may be too late to see Papa again. I must try, though. With my father dead and me vanished, there is nothing to stop Melantha bringing the kingdom to ruin.
Corvin follows évandre, leaping into the air to alight on the gate, and the three hounds take their positions in the courtyard.
Raban takes a step closer. The longing in his expression is back, and it ignites the answering tingle within me again.
“It is good for us to have you here, princess. I hope you won’t think of doing anything rash while we sleep.”
“Of course not. Sleep well.” I am practiced in the art of lies, but this one feels thick and dry on my tongue like a tonic that must be taken. Poor, sweet creature. He needs more than crumbling walls to guard.
If only I could give that to him.