37
AERHRIL WOKE AND she knew it was very late. The sun coming in through the windows looked like afternoon light. She was alone in her bed, entirely undressed, and she had no notion what had become of Dathor.
She got up and went to her wardrobe to dress herself, choosing a corset she could lace up the front so that she could do it herself.
She fiddled with her buttons by putting her dress on backwards, muttering to herself that he could have woken her, that there was no need for him to abandon her and let her sleep until all hours of the morning—afternoon—whatever time it was!
Still annoyed, she stalked out of the room only to be met by two elf men from the village, with bows slung over their shoulders, quivers of arrows too. They nodded at her. “My lady,” greeted one.
She was entirely confused. “What time is it?”
“Nearly two o’clock, I think,” said one of them.
“Two o’clock,” she said softly. Could he have somehow gotten all the orcs out of the keep by two o’clock in the afternoon? While she slept?
She took the main steps as quickly as she could, going directly to look to see if there was an orc at the main entrance.
There was not.
She went into the room where the women were kept, the ones who had been guests at her wedding, and it was empty, but then it often was, because the women had the freedom of the keep during the day.
She left and looked into the sitting room on the first floor, and there they were, laughing like friends, and she was so stunned that she let out some sort of agonized noise in the back of her throat, and they both looked up at her.
Dathor and Celedin. Together.
“I thought you were going to sleep all day,” said Dathor, beckoning to her.
Celedin gave her a smile, the easiest smile she’d seen on his lips in some time. “Your hair is a fright.”
She touched it. It was knotted, but that was because of the way she worried the back of her head into the pillow when Dathor was inside her.
She wasn’t entirely aware of it while it was happening; it seemed natural.
But she had noted, several times, it seemed to make her hair very tangled.
She had taken to braiding her hair at Bilkwood, but she’d been so tired last night—this morning—when she fell into bed that she had not bothered. “Yes, it’s not my fault.”
Dathor laughed easily. “Come here,” he said.
She looked at Celedin, who made a face, seemingly understanding why her hair was tangled, and then she lurched across the room and in moments, she was in Dathor’s lap.
“What is going on?” she whispered.
“I have not killed him,” Dathor whispered in her ear. “You must be at least somewhat pleased with me for that.”
She eyed Celedin.
“It was quite something, really,” Celedin said, his smile easy again. “It’s a pity you slept through it.”
Dathor laughed, nuzzling her neck, pulling her tightly against him. “We were brilliant. You would have loved it.”
She pushed out of the circle of his arms and got to her feet. She faced them both. “But what happened? Where are the orcs? Where are the elf women who were being kept in the room in the south tower? Why are there archers in the house?”
“Well,” said Celedin, “it was a bit like what you did to sneak me into the room in the first place, but I wasn’t in disguise. He dragged me into the presence of whoever the orc was in charge.”
“Lashrud,” supplied Dathor. “Who had word already that I was not to be trusted.”
“Truly?” she said.
“Yes, apparently, when I left Bilkwood, I was marked as a traitor to the orc cause, and they sent word back here to that effect. So, that made everything more difficult.”
“No, one would never have guessed you thought so,” said Celedin, laughing. “You played it to perfection, saying that there was an advancing army, and that I had led them right here, that I had convinced them to begin here, taking back Foxglove Peak, because it was mine.”
“They believed it,” said Dathor. “And we led all of them, every single one, except for three they left behind on the main entrances—”
“Who the archers took out when they arrived,” said Celedin.
“To Campion Cliffs, and said that the army was right down there, down the hill.”
“Oh, by the rosy fingers of dawn!” she cried. “That path is so deceptive. You get down it and you think you’ll climb right back up, but—”
“Yes,” said Celedin. “Exactly. It was his idea.”
“So, they were all down there,” said Dathor.
“And he and I were at the top looking down at them,” said Celedin.
“And I called down to them that the Peak is mine and to seek the rest of the army, not to even try to take it back from me,” said Dathor. “But they’re not going to listen, I don’t think. How long do you think it will take them to find some other way round?”
“Could be any moment now,” said Celedin. “But I gathered up every man I could find in the village to protect the keep, and they are all, even now, waiting for any sign of an orc.”
“This is a fortress,” said Dathor to her. “It was designed to be impenetrable, as long as it is being properly defended. A small number of well-armed men can hold Foxglove Peak against a much larger army.”
She supposed that was true. “But… you did all this while I slept?”
“You must have been tired,” said Dathor. “Perhaps I wore you out.”
“Oh, shadows protect us all,” said Celedin. “Would you stop that?”
“Is our truce already over?” said Dathor, glancing at him.
Celedin looked at her. “I suppose it doesn’t matter if I’ve always loved you if you’ve never loved me back.”
“You didn’t love me, you wanted to possess me,” she countered.
“How is that different than him?” said Celedin, gesturing at Dathor.
“I’ve got broader shoulders, that’s why,” said Dathor, reaching out to pull her onto his lap again.
“I am not so shallow,” she said, settling against him, hand to his chest.
“Oh, you are,” said Dathor. “You are abundantly shallow and a jealous little creature besides, and I would not have you any other way.” He affectionately rubbed his knuckles over her cheekbone.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, you are vicious, and you hold a grudge far too long, and you are fiend.” She sighed. “And I would not change you either.”
Celedin groaned, but even his groan was a whispery thing.
She looked up at Celedin and then back at Dathor. “Well?” she said. “What happens now?”
“Well,” said Dathor. “We have to hold the Peak against the orcs for a while, so there will be an alliance of some sort between Celedin and me. At some point, however, that will have to break, and then it’s going to be very annoyingly difficult if you are not going to allow me to kill him.”
Celedin huffed. “I will never surrender this place to you, orc.”
“I know that,” said Dathor. “I plan to take it from you.”