Chapter Thirty-Eight

Pressing her fist against her mouth, Lilyrose stared at where Marlis had been. She wanted to scream, her mind struggling to comprehend what she’d witnessed. How could someone be swallowed by mist and simply disappear? Her limbs shaking, struggling to keep herself from collapsing, she stepped back and jumped.

His hands on her shoulders, Arthur turned her to face him. “Lilyrose–”

“What happened to her?” She clutched his arms, her voice high, trembling.

Panting heavily, eyes wide, he glanced at where Marlis had been and shook his head. “I don’t know. Garnet said she was allied with a dark power. I don’t know, I don’t want to know.” Blinking, he focussed his gaze on her. “All that matters to me is you. You’re here.” Grimacing, he lowered his right arm. “You rode out.” With his left arm, he pulled her close.

Frowning at the blood caking the left side of his face, she touched the deep cut on his lower lip. He flinched. Squeezing her eyes shut, she put her arms around him, her face against his leather doublet. “Where else would I be?” she said softly. Digging her fingers into his doublet, she relished the pain of the studs biting against her skin; it seemed to ground her against the horror.

“You rode out on Hero.”

“I didn’t think, I just got on.”

Standing back slightly so he could look at her, he kept shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re here. You, of all people–”

“You’re not the only one with elf essence,” she said softly. “Although I don’t know if I was using it or not–oh!” Her eyes widened. “Ronal.”

Looking around, Arthur whistled. Hero trotted up.

As they stepped through the raised portcullis, Lilyrose and Arthur gasped. The waiting crowd erupted into cheers.

Hero danced back, shaking his head, whinnying. Bruce appeared, took his reins and held him steady. “That was the stuff of legends, Arthur, Lilyrose.” He grinned up at them.

She managed a smile. In his excitement, Bruce had addressed her by name.

Arthur eased himself out of the saddle then helped her down. As they made their way up the steps to enter the castle, they were stopped by many who wanted to congratulate them.

Swept up by their exhilaration, Lilyrose’s horror faded, replaced with euphoria.

In the hallway, the physician fought his way to Arthur’s side. “My lord–”

“My father?” Arthur grasped the man’s arm.

“He’s resting, my lord. His back is causing him considerable pain, but I have given him a tincture to help him rest. We will take him to his chamber when the way is clear.”

As Arthur thanked him, a shout sounded over the crowd.

“Lilyrose!”

Lionel’s bellow made her jump.

The crowd, their cheers falling to a murmur, parted as he marched up to her. “What were you thinking?” Frowning hard, his face almost red, he grabbed her by the shoulders.

She stuttered, never having seen him this angry before. “I-I wasn’t. I.” Blinking rapidly, she whispered, “Freeing myself, my–” She gasped as he crushed her in his embrace.

“My brave girl. I thought-I feared. I’m so proud of you. So proud.” His voice hitched, and he stopped talking.

She clung to him, her tears forcing their way through her closed eyelids.

A pocket of silence grew around them.

When he finally loosened his hold on her, she stepped back. “Papa,” she said softly, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

He kissed her on the forehead.

Lilyrose glanced past him to see a smiling Henry next to Arthur.

“My cousin,” he said, “my own dear cousin riding to battle. I thought my heart would burst.”

Returning his smile, she reluctantly moved away from her father to step into his embrace. “Oh. If you saw, then, Mama?” She grimaced, dreading his answer.

“Ah. Yes.” He ran his fingers through his dark blond hair. “Aunt Eleanor is, a little upset. Mother is with her, and Alice.”

“Come, my girl,” said Lionel. “Time to be brave again.”

The fleeting thought that she’d rather ride out on Hero again than face her mother’s distress wandered across her mind before she straightened her frame and dismissed it. As they ascended the stairs, she said, “Henry. What about Ronal?”

His wide grin told her all she needed to know, and she quickened her pace.

As they stepped into Arthur’s chamber, Lilyrose glanced across to see a weeping Agnes holding Ronal’s hand in both of hers. He was propped up in bed, blinking and dazed. Then she forced her attention to her mother and quickly followed her father.

Down on one knee in front of Eleanor, Lionel had hold of her hand and was talking quietly. Sarah had moved to stand behind Eleanor’s chair and she smiled at Lilyrose through her tears.

Alice ran to Lilyrose and embraced her. “You were so brave,” she whispered in her ear.

Kneeling next to Lionel, Lilyrose placed her hands on Eleanor’s lap. “Mama. I’m sorry–”

“Oh, my baby.” Eleanor grasped Lilyrose to her in a fierce embrace. “I thought my heart would stop.” Fresh tears rendered her unable to speak.

“Mama. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean–”

“No. No, listen.” Straightening, Eleanor wiped her own tears, managing a weak smile. “I’ve never liked your fighting practice. But I am proud of your courage.” Cupping Lilyrose’s tear-stained face in her hands, she kissed her daughter’s wet cheeks then whispered, “And you have freed your brother.”

Placing her hands over her mother’s, Lilyrose could only say, “Oh, Mama.”

“Go. Go to him.”

Kissing Eleanor’s hands, she forced herself to walk steadily, not run, to Ronal, mindful that there were those present who knew nothing of their true relationship.

Arthur was already by his side.

His dark hair rumpled and sticking out at odd angles, Ronal stared at her. “Arthur said you were there. You, killed her?”

“We both did.”

He kept shaking his head. “I wish I could have seen that.”

What Lilyrose was so desperate to say to him was, ‘You saved me from the curse, my brother, and now I’ve saved you’, but instead she said, “How do you feel?”

Looking down at the bedcovers, he tilted his head to the side. “It was strange. I’d imagined a sleeping curse to feel like sleeping. But it didn’t feel like that. I felt, trapped.” He looked up at them, a line etched between his brows. “I wanted to move, but I couldn’t. I could hear you speaking, but it sounded so far away.”

“Oh, my boy,” said Agnes, still crying. “My brave boy.”

“Ma, don’t cry.” He leaned forward to wipe her tears. “It’s over and I’m fine. Tell her, Da.”

“Hush now,” said Evan, his hand on Agnes’ shoulder. “We have him back.” He wiped away his own tear then stiffened, staring past Lilyrose and Arthur.

Brows raised, Lilyrose glanced over her shoulder to see the four gem elves step into the middle of the room; Beryl, Peridot, Topaz and Garnet.

“Yes, Ronal,” said Beryl, “it is as you say, it is finally over.” She stood with hands clasped loosely before her. “Marlis is gone, a threat no more. No longer will she blight your lives. Lilyrose, the rest of your life lies before you now, free of the curse.”

Slowly, she nodded. It was strange knowing she’d had a hand, literally, in freeing herself after all the years of believing, hoping someone else would do it.

Beryl continued. “Our time here is done. We will return now to our realm.”

“Arthur,” said Peridot with a smile. “When the chief, Hagen, is well again, let him know his young ward is, herself, free of the curse Marlis had placed on her.”

Returning her smile, he nodded.

Inclining their heads, the gem elves turned to leave. Except for Garnet whose gaze remained on Arthur.

He started forward. “Will-will I see you again?”

She attempted to smile, but all she said was, “Perhaps.” Then she and her sisters stepped into the shadows and faded from view.

All courtesy was extended to the northern men who chose to keep to themselves with Sweyn acting as the go-between. Hagen’s physical injuries didn’t seem to cause him much discomfort. If they did, he did not show it. The bruise on the right side of his face, where Arthur had elbowed him, had faded from purplish-black to a greyish-yellow, but he was still unable to fully open his eye.

His emotional state was another matter. A proud man, he seemed ashamed that he’d succumbed to Marlis so easily.

“Lord Hagen,” said Lionel, “none of us hold you responsible for what happened.”

With Edmund in near-constant pain, Lionel remained close, playing a welcome supportive role.

“That is gracious of you, Lord Lionel, and I am grateful for all you have done. Yet.” Shaking his head, he averted his gaze.

“Not everyone conducts themselves as honourably as we assume,” said Arthur, who stayed by his father’s side. “Magic is not commonplace in our lives. Why would we expect to be ensnared by it? We defeated her, surely that’s all that matters.”

He thought on Arthur’s words and gradually nodded. “Your words are wise for one so young.” He turned to Edmund. “You have raised him well, Lord Edmund.”

Sitting in the tall, straight-backed chair, his sticks on the floor beside him, Edmund smiled. The doors to the garden stood open, allowing a warm breeze to float in. “You’re bearing a hard burden, Lord Hagen. As ruler, I understand. Despite my son’s wise words, which are true, I suspect you still believe you’ve failed your people.”

His expression downcast, Hagen stared at the floor. “They look to me to lead them, to protect them. Yet, I opened the door to let the darkness in. I betrayed our goddess. Betrayed my dear Agata. Betrayed the memory of my Una,” he finished softly.

Surprised that Hagen was speaking so freely, Arthur averted his gaze, feeling like an intruder, wanting to give the man some privacy.

“When my Anna died, I wanted nothing more than to join her.” Edmund’s voice was so soft, he was almost whispering.

Eyes widening, Arthur slowly turned his gaze to his father.

“I spent days, countless days, in our chamber, facing her empty chair. I may well have ended my days there but for my boy.” He glanced at Arthur, a gentle smile on his haggard face. “Hagen, I know how deeply a man feels the loss of the woman he loves. But I believe you’re wrong in thinking you betrayed the memory of your beloved wife. You didn’t invite the darkness in because you chose to. Your free will was taken from you. You, too, were under a curse. What’s done is done. If your men are anything to go by, I believe your people are waiting to welcome their chief home. And your brave Agata is waiting for you also.”

Clenching his jaw, swallowing hard, Hagen straightened. “There will always be a place in my hall for you, Lord Edmund. And you, Arthur. For you and your family also, Lord Lionel.”

“And you and your people will always be welcome here, Lord Hagen,” said Edmund.