Chapter 74 James #2
The wind picked up, biting and sharp. It tugged at his cloak and howled between the battlements, and James felt the sudden certainty that it was warning him to go back.
Which made no goddamned sense given he was safer in these walls than anywhere else on the continent.
The gates of Bryngaleth emerged from the darkness and fog, flanked by torches that crackled and sparked.
Thick timbers reinforced with iron stood closed, their surface etched with deep scars that hinted at battles long past. Above, the raised portcullis cast jagged shadows against the stone, its iron teeth a silent threat.
Instead of approaching them, Theryn led him along a narrow path beneath the walls and banged his fist on a small banded oak door in the base of the wall. “It’s Theryn and Waynne. Open up.”
A tiny slot opened and eyes peered out, taking in the three of them. The creak of wood filled James’s ears as a beam was lifted off the door and it swung open, allowing them into the castle.
“Who is he?” the guardsman demanded.
“King’s business. Get the castle shut up good and tight; there’s a bad feeling in the mist and winds tonight.”
So it wasn’t just him who felt it.
James fought the urge to reach for his sword, instead keeping his hands at his sides as he walked behind Theryn through the castle.
In deference to the height of the Cardiffian people, the ceilings were vaulted, but the corridors were narrow and there were no windows to speak of.
Everything was solid and heavy, designed and built in the times when the clans warred against one another, before Cardiff had unified beneath one king.
So very different from the airy and open palaces of Harendell, most of which couldn’t be defended from a mob of grandmothers angered by the rising price of tea.
He’d only been in this particular castle a handful of times and James was swiftly lost in the warren of corridors, the sense that he was walking into the center of the earth making his heart beat quicker than their steps warranted.
“Ronan will be in here,” Theryn said as they reached a shut door. “Let me speak to him first.”
The big warrior went in the door, then shut it behind him, leaving James alone with Waynne.
“Was sorry to hear about your father, lad,” the old man said. “Edward was a right Harendellian prick, but better than most, and Siobhan loved him true. He must have loved her true as well for what he did, and he deserved a better end than to be stabbed in his sleep by that southern snake charmer.”
James’s hands tried to curl into fists at the words against Ahnna, but he forced them flat against his thighs. They only knew what they’d been told, and he’d have the truth in their ears soon enough.
The door opened, and Theryn motioned for James and Waynne to come in.
No sooner was he through the door than his uncle’s familiar form appeared before him.
King Ronan Crehan was a bear of a man. Nearly seven feet tall and broad as an ox, he was one of the few men who made James feel small.
He wore woolen garments and thick furs, which only added to his size, and James’s spine cracked as he was lifted off his feet in an embrace.
“My nephew!” Ronan roared. “My boy is alive!”
He set James down with a thump but then pounded his back. “Word out of Amarid is that you’d been found dead in the Blackreaches, and William had your funeral. Caly said there were no new stars in the sky, but I was beginning to give up hope. Where have you been, lad?”
“I’m very much alive.” James sucked air back into his compressed lungs. “Though it’s been close more times than I can count.” He hesitated, then added, “I heard about Cormac. He deserved a better end.”
Ronan leaned back, gripping James by the shoulders as he looked him up and down.
His eyes were amber as well, though more yellow in hue than James’s own, and it was like looking into the face of a wolf.
“Was the Crimson Widow who did the deed, but your brother won’t move toward vengeance.
Little fucker didn’t get an ounce of your father’s blood. ”
His fingers tightened on James’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry for Edward. He was a force to be reckoned with, and he deserved better than what he got.
We know you chased the Ithicanian woman into the Blackreaches, and it’s not like you not to catch your prey.
I hope you gave the bitch an inglorious death. ”
James grimaced but only said, “I’ve a lot to tell you.”
“I’m sure.” His uncle slung an arm around James’s shoulder, leading him deeper into the room to where high-backed chairs faced a roaring fire. “Harendell will be wanting the same story, but as luck will have it, you can tell us both at the same time.”
James’s hackles abruptly rose. The scent of a familiar perfume filled his nose, and above the chair, he saw the gleam of white-blond hair. Hands turning to ice, James slowly rounded the heavy piece of furniture to find a pregnant woman with amber eyes smiling back at him.
“James,” Lestara said, hand curving around her swollen belly, “thank the stars you are still alive.”