portraits of long forgotten ancestors, prized
horses and beloved hounds gazed down from the walls, and a suit of
armour stood in the corner like a vacant sentinel. Niam's keep had
an air of aged opulence, its battle-scarred walls dating back to
the war that had divided the land. The Duke spent the bulk of his
time entertaining local nobles, hunting and chronicling Arlin's
history in the dusty tomes that filled his library.
A least she was
safe with her uncle now, who would help her to fight the monstrous
kings and perhaps defeat them yet. Buoyed by this thought, she rose
and dressed, also relieved that she would be rid of the hateful
Sabre, who, for all his magic, was insufferable.
The dress that
had been laid out for her, scented with honeysuckle and warmed by
the fire, was a lacy creation of yellow taffeta and white ribbons.
She would have preferred her more practical riding clothes and
battle jacket, but her pantaloons were ruined, so the dress would
have to do until she could find something better. A knock at the
door heralded a serving girl, whose eyes widened when she found the
Queen already up and dressed. The maid brushed the tangles from
Tassin's tresses and arranged them in a plaited coil with ringlets
to frame her face, while the Queen fidgeted.
Tassin skipped
down the sweeping staircase to the bright morning room where her
uncle and aunt waited at breakfast. The family sat around one end
of a polished redwood table, liveried servants standing behind them
armed with pots of tea and jugs of cream. The Duke rose and bowed,
as did her aunt and her cousin Prince Dellon. Tassin fell upon the
hearty meal of crisp bacon, poached eggs, smoked fish and grilled
mushrooms in a tangy sauce with good appetite, washing it down with
aromatic, honey-sweetened tea. Becoming aware of the strained
atmosphere when her hunger was assuaged, she glanced from her uncle
to her aunt, raising a brow.
Niam cleared
his throat. "What happened yesterday that you came here in such a
state?"
Tassin related
the tale, but claimed that her escape had been her plan and not
Pervor's, and omitted the indignities to which Sabre had subjected
her. At the end of it, Niam leant forward.
"You must marry
one of the three, I beg you to reconsider. Your army is defeated,
your castle fallen. I cannot help you, my army barely numbers three
hundred men."
She shook her
head. "Never, Uncle. I have eluded the kings for now. All I require
from you is shelter while I demand aid from King Xavier, who will
undoubtedly supply it, and -"
"Tassin. We had
another visitor during the night. We did not want to disturb you,
and he graciously consented to wait until morning."
"Torrian!"
Tassin paled, rising to her feet. "How could you, uncle? I came to
you for help and you betray me?"
"No, my
pretty," a deep, familiar voice drawled behind her. Tassin spun to
face Torrian, whose green eyes were alight with triumph as he
continued, "He is helping you, and his advice is sound."
Tassin backed
away as he advanced, shaking her head. Torrian stood over two
metres tall, bull-necked and barrel-chested. His gold-ornamented
helm hid his thick brown hair, and his shaven, coarse-featured face
held the trace of cruelty she feared. The gold band that encircled
his helm denoted his rank, just as the slight sneer that curled his
lips revealed his arrogance. His silver armour was moulded into
muscular contours, and a gold-hilted sword hung at his side. She
glanced around for an exit, while her uncle watched her. Bumping
into a chair, she backed around the far end of the table, Torrian
following. Seizing her chance before he got too close, she made a
dash for the door, where two guards stood.
"Stop her!"
Torrian roared.
The guards
crossed their spears, but she ducked under them and ran down the
hall, gathering up her cumbersome skirts. Heavy boots pounded after
her as Torrian and the guards gave chase. Tassin flew down the
broad staircase, slipped on the smooth floor at the bottom
horses and beloved hounds gazed down from the walls, and a suit of
armour stood in the corner like a vacant sentinel. Niam's keep had
an air of aged opulence, its battle-scarred walls dating back to
the war that had divided the land. The Duke spent the bulk of his
time entertaining local nobles, hunting and chronicling Arlin's
history in the dusty tomes that filled his library.
A least she was
safe with her uncle now, who would help her to fight the monstrous
kings and perhaps defeat them yet. Buoyed by this thought, she rose
and dressed, also relieved that she would be rid of the hateful
Sabre, who, for all his magic, was insufferable.
The dress that
had been laid out for her, scented with honeysuckle and warmed by
the fire, was a lacy creation of yellow taffeta and white ribbons.
She would have preferred her more practical riding clothes and
battle jacket, but her pantaloons were ruined, so the dress would
have to do until she could find something better. A knock at the
door heralded a serving girl, whose eyes widened when she found the
Queen already up and dressed. The maid brushed the tangles from
Tassin's tresses and arranged them in a plaited coil with ringlets
to frame her face, while the Queen fidgeted.
Tassin skipped
down the sweeping staircase to the bright morning room where her
uncle and aunt waited at breakfast. The family sat around one end
of a polished redwood table, liveried servants standing behind them
armed with pots of tea and jugs of cream. The Duke rose and bowed,
as did her aunt and her cousin Prince Dellon. Tassin fell upon the
hearty meal of crisp bacon, poached eggs, smoked fish and grilled
mushrooms in a tangy sauce with good appetite, washing it down with
aromatic, honey-sweetened tea. Becoming aware of the strained
atmosphere when her hunger was assuaged, she glanced from her uncle
to her aunt, raising a brow.
Niam cleared
his throat. "What happened yesterday that you came here in such a
state?"
Tassin related
the tale, but claimed that her escape had been her plan and not
Pervor's, and omitted the indignities to which Sabre had subjected
her. At the end of it, Niam leant forward.
"You must marry
one of the three, I beg you to reconsider. Your army is defeated,
your castle fallen. I cannot help you, my army barely numbers three
hundred men."
She shook her
head. "Never, Uncle. I have eluded the kings for now. All I require
from you is shelter while I demand aid from King Xavier, who will
undoubtedly supply it, and -"
"Tassin. We had
another visitor during the night. We did not want to disturb you,
and he graciously consented to wait until morning."
"Torrian!"
Tassin paled, rising to her feet. "How could you, uncle? I came to
you for help and you betray me?"
"No, my
pretty," a deep, familiar voice drawled behind her. Tassin spun to
face Torrian, whose green eyes were alight with triumph as he
continued, "He is helping you, and his advice is sound."
Tassin backed
away as he advanced, shaking her head. Torrian stood over two
metres tall, bull-necked and barrel-chested. His gold-ornamented
helm hid his thick brown hair, and his shaven, coarse-featured face
held the trace of cruelty she feared. The gold band that encircled
his helm denoted his rank, just as the slight sneer that curled his
lips revealed his arrogance. His silver armour was moulded into
muscular contours, and a gold-hilted sword hung at his side. She
glanced around for an exit, while her uncle watched her. Bumping
into a chair, she backed around the far end of the table, Torrian
following. Seizing her chance before he got too close, she made a
dash for the door, where two guards stood.
"Stop her!"
Torrian roared.
The guards
crossed their spears, but she ducked under them and ran down the
hall, gathering up her cumbersome skirts. Heavy boots pounded after
her as Torrian and the guards gave chase. Tassin flew down the
broad staircase, slipped on the smooth floor at the bottom
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