Kastali Dun

Claire gazed upon the aftermath of Talon and Reyr's wrath. Of her six captors, Eagle alone remained standing. He did not give up so easily, or perhaps he knew what awaited him in the keep's dungeons. In that case, a quick death would have been better. Were he a smart man, he would have fallen onto his own blade.

"It is over, Eagle. Lower your weapons." Talon and Reyr prevailed, shoulder to shoulder, with their Sveraks pointing directly at him.

While this was happening, Claire's gaze wandered around the room. Bodies and parts were scattered across the dirt floor, blood was splattered everywhere, and the air had a heavy metallic scent. The head of the decapitated man named Morgan sat less than ten feet away from her.

His gray face caused her stomach to lurch. Her vision darkened at the edges. She closed her eyes tightly and waited several moments, taking deep breaths. The effort was sobering, and her mind felt a little clearer.

She opened her eyes just as guards appeared to gather the dead. Verath and Bedelth also entered to escort Eagle and Tark away. She did her best to collect herself in the meantime. The next thing she knew, Reyr and Talon were beside her.

Reyr crouched before her while Talon stood beside them. She couldn't bear to look up at Talon, so she kept her gaze level with Reyr's. Without pause, he took her head in his hands and affectionately kissed the top of her hair. More tears blurred her vision. "No need to cry," he said, cooing. "You're safe now." His eyes were so soft, so full of love, that her heart clenched with pity. Something had changed in him since their last meeting.

Before she could respond, he took a knife from his belt and quickly cut the ropes on her wrists and ankles, then he removed the gag from her mouth. At long last, she was free. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her gown and focused on pulling herself together.

"Let me have some time with her, Reyr." Talon rested his hand on Reyr's shoulder. "See to the others."

Reyr stood, nodding briefly. "At once, Your Grace." Then he rushed away.

Now that she was alone with Talon, Claire anxiously looked at his boots, avoiding his gaze at all costs. She was so ashamed of the mess she had created. All of this was her fault. Regardless of her befuddled mind, despite her inability to think clearly, there was no escaping the deep regret pooling inside her. It flowed in like torrents of water, filling her up entirely. What she had said before—the cruel comment about his failure to find a mate—couldn't be taken back. Rivers only flowed in one direction. A person couldn't simply scoop up the water and put it back.

Her chin trembled once, twice...She tried to focus on a piece of straw sticking out from her skirt. She wanted the world to disappear and swallow her up with it. Maybe then she might be spared the extreme humiliation she felt.

"When you were taken"—Talon's calm voice was nearly a whisper, pleasantly interrupting her remorse—"I almost burned the city to the ground. I threatened to do so, and I might have, were it not for Reyr."

She continued looking down.

"This entire ordeal..." He sighed. "I thought I had lost you."

Still, she said nothing—she couldn't bear to speak.

He knelt beside her and placed his hand over the injuries on her face. "Ender mein," he muttered. She felt his magic as warmth; it spread over her jaw and lips. Instinctively she licked her lips to clear away the blood. They no longer felt swollen and painful.

"Much better," he said. "No trace of Tark's foul fist remains." He held her chin in his fingers, turning her face this way and that, examining it for any further signs of hurt. As he did this, her eyes darted around to avoid his gaze, until they landed on his collarbone and remained fixed there. The fact that he did not show any anger towards her for her reckless behavior was unexpected and very unlike him. "Look at me," he said, keeping his voice low.

Her eyes darted to his. In the depths of his silver regard, there was only concern, not anger, not even frustration. She blinked several times; his emotions did not change. Why wasn't he angry with her? She was furious with herself. Shouldn't he be? Her heart constricted. Tears began to fall freely down her cheeks as a sob escaped her chest. She put her head into her hands, hiding her face from him, and broke down completely.

There was a moment, perhaps two, which passed unaltered. Then Talon wordlessly swept her shaking body into his arms, moving her onto his lap where he tucked her head under his chin and rocked her. She shook with each sob, and though it seemed impossible to shed any more tears, the deluge came flowing. "I'm sorry, Talon! I'm so sorry..." Her garbled words were spoken into his chest, muffled and nearly incoherent; he understood clearly enough, and his arms tightened around her.

She didn't deserve the comfort he offered. Yet, he offered it all the same. So, she took it—she took whatever he was willing to give.

For a while, they sat like that, with only the sound of her crying to break the silence. Even when she stopped sobbing hysterically, she still felt tears sliding down her cheeks. There was no telling how long he held her there, patting her hair and rocking her back and forth.

When she further calmed down, he carried her out into the fresh air. She was vaguely aware of his efforts. It wasn't until the smells of the city greeted her that she realized she was free. People were gathered in droves, packed tightly into the narrow street. Many held torches to illuminate the dark night, casting long shadows on the buildings that towered over them. There was a steady buzz of voices, all speculating over what was happening. Armored men moved about, some of whom held back the crowd, adding to the noise, to the chaos. All she wanted was to be away from it, from everyone.

She hid her face in Talon's chest trying to blot out the world. He must have sensed her desire to be away, because he departed the scene at a rapid pace. A soldier rushed up behind him accompanied by the sound of hooves.

"I brought your horse, my king, just in case you wished for him. Will you ride?"

"No. Thank you. Return Shadow to the stables. Lady Claire is not fit to ride."

Claire pulled her head away to look at him—to protest. The keep was at least a twenty-minute walk! Did he intend to carry her the whole way? "Talon, you don't have to...I mean...I can..." The words died on her lips. Who was she kidding? The truth was, she had no desire to leave the warmth of his arms; not after what she had just been through.

Talon said nothing as he continued walking, ignoring her half-hearted attempt. He was already making his way up the muddy thoroughfare. His face was set with obvious resolve, making his intentions clear.

She settled down into his arms. After a few minutes of silent walking, his embrace began to have a strange effect upon her. Without realizing it, she found herself clinging more comfortably to his tunic. In the comfort of his arms it felt as if the world could never touch her.

The minutes passed quickly. When they arrived at the keep, they first passed through the gatehouse. "Welcome back, Lady Claire," said one of many guards on duty. They all stood at attention as their king passed.

When they moved into the keep, Claire expected Talon to put her down. That was not the case. He marched directly into the keep, holding her all the while. He went up the main staircase, then through the large first floor corridor, off to the right, up another flight of steps, through several more corridors, and into the south wing. He didn't slow his pace until they reached the Hall of Kings. He continued on until they were standing before the guards at the king's tower. Still, he did not put her down.

He then carried her into the tower and took her to his bathing room. Only there did he set her on her feet, keeping an arm tightly around her waist. "Can you stand?" He looked at her as if she were fragile kitchenware.

She frowned. "I am not weak, Talon. I can stand." Her voice was so hoarse that she felt like a croaking frog.

Talon nodded and stepped away. They stood looking at one another. She was not in a fit state to converse, so she studied him, looking first at his face, and then the rest of him. There was a wealth of emotion in his gaze. All of it confusingly clashed together. How could someone look frustrated, concerned, and troubled, all at once? Her regard took in the rest of him—his bloodstained clothes, torn and filthy, and his ridiculous hair. It looked more beastly than ever, tufted and matted all over. She nearly laughed to see such a great man with such crazy hair.

"You smell of that disgusting cellar," he said at last. His gaze was soft. "Remove your clothes and get into the bath."

She scowled and tried to speak but failed to think of anything witty to say. Embarrassed, she turned to look at the large, raised tub made entirely of black granite. It was larger than her own, and far prettier. She looked at the rest of the room and realized how grand it was. It looked like a private, sacred place, forbidden to all but a select few: the kings and queens of Dragonwall.

A bath did sound inviting. The poison flowing through her veins felt like a dirty, oily substance, full of evil. Perhaps a good wash would purge that.

When her assessment of the room came full circle, her gaze landed on the king. She expected to see him scowling and impatient. He showed more patience than she believed he possessed. Not a single protest burst from his lips, despite her delay to follow orders.

They gazed at one another for so long that she realized he intended to remain in the room. "You want me to undress in front of you?" she asked, incredulous.

"You need a bath. I intend to see that it happens. Apparently, I cannot let you out of my sight." He was taking her rule-breaking to heart.

"You need a bath worse than I do," she fired back.

The corners of his mouth twitched. He looked down at himself, back at her, and then shrugged. "I suppose I do. I will bathe later, after I see to your needs."

"Surely Desaree can see to my—"

"Am I not perfectly capable of attending to you?" Talon's eyes flashed dangerously. "Do you doubt me?"

"I...no...I don't doubt you, Talon."

"You may see Desaree later, and Saffra as well." His voice softened. "They are both eager to see you. For now, your time is mine."

She nodded.

Giving him one last chance to change his mind, she stood silent for several moments, watching him. He simply stared back at her, so she shrugged. If he insisted on sticking around, she hadn't the energy to fight him.

She was thankful that her gown had no ties. She undid the clips in front and shrugged out of it, setting it atop a wooden bench beside the tub. Then she removed her chemise as well, draping it on top. She kept her back to Talon and did not look at him a single time. Part of her wished she knew what he was thinking, but most of her was too frazzled to care.

She walked over to the tub, still keeping Talon behind her. Like all of the tubs in the castle's elegant suites, it was magically full of hot water, which circulated like a hot tub. While the keep had very little modern technology, it did have some plumbing—Queen Isabella's doing.

There was a small bit of steam rising from the water; Claire dipped a hand beneath the surface to test it out. It was perfect—hot, but not scalding. She noticed a faint smell of eucalyptus and smiled.

Without delaying further, she climbed in and quickly submerged herself until only her head was above the water's surface. The heat eased her muscles, and her mind began to relax, to clear from the fog. She sat that way for so long, that when she heard Talon's voice, she jumped. "There now, stand and turn so I can wash you."

Talon was beside her, next to the tub. His sleeves were rolled up, ready for work.

She noticed a long scar on his right forearm, and several smaller ones scattered about it. His other arm was unmarked.

She hesitated for several seconds—her heart pounding—before she stood to face him. Just as she did, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. He stood shell-shocked, with a sponge and soap in hand.

Was she really that impressive? Had it really been so long since he'd seen a naked woman?

"How is it possible?" he asked, unceremoniously leaning over the side of the tub to touch her luminescent marking. His fingers were gentle as they slid along the teal spirals. Goosebumps erupted on her skin.

She wanted to smack herself for her stupidity. He wasn't impressed by her nakedness at all. It was her marking that held his attention. A piece of her strange dream from her drugged sleep came rushing back. The mark of the Sprites, Queen Jade had called it.

She studied Talon's face, looking down at him from the raised pool. His furrowed brow, his searching eyes, and his questioning touch were all obvious signs of his disbelief. At last he dropped his hand and stepped away. "You never told me about this. Does Reyr know?"

She shook her head. "Only Desaree."

He nodded, then said no more on the subject. She sank back into the water, hiding everything below her neck. From her vantage point, she studied him. Try as she might, she couldn't make out his expression. "Are you angry with me?" she asked at last.

He had every right to be. There were so many things she had hidden from him, and now they were coming to truth, all of them. Granted, he hadn't exactly treated her well in the beginning, but that was all said and done. They were working together now, fighting a common enemy, and she had not been forthcoming with him.

Talon dropped his eyes from her gaze and began lathering the sponge he held. He was intently focused on his task, until he finished and looked back up at her. "No, Claire, I am not angry with you."

To her utter disbelief, he walked up next to the bath and held out his hand. He was ready to wash her. She stood once more. The water came up to her waist; she was grateful for that. Complying with his invitation, she placed her arm into his open palm. His fingers closed around it as he began to gently wash her. She might have protested this kind of coddling, given that it was slightly weird, but Talon had a look of determination on his face. He needed to do this. This was his way of affirming to himself that he was good enough to care for her.

Something in her mind clicked into place. Perhaps Talon blamed himself for what she had done. Perhaps he saw this ordeal as a sign of his inability to care for her, to protect her. It wasn't true—far from it. This was all her fault—her mess. Even thinking about it now, she was overcome with guilt again.

Talon needs to do this for you, and for himself...

She breathed a sigh of relief. Cyrus was with her again. The poison was wearing off.

You must help him to see the truth...

She knew exactly what seeing the truth required, so she said nothing as he fussed over her, washing first her arms, neck, and back, then moving to her chest and stomach. His focus was absolute.

The only sound amidst the silence was the water trickling from the sponge as he rinsed it every so often and applied more soap. Before she realized it, he was soothing her. It wasn't simply dirt he was washing away, but the experience of being kidnapped. Only time would entirely heal her trauma, but his careful hands had already set the process in motion.

Her soul praised him for it, because somehow, he knew this was exactly what she needed. His care was working—she was already feeling improved. Even the poison seemed to slowly drip away, draining from her like the droplets of water that trickled down her skin.

When he pulled away, she was almost disappointed, until she realized what he had in mind next. He moved over to the side of the bath where there was a submerged ledge. "Come stand here so that I can get your lower half."

Her face flushed. She was surprised by her reluctance and embarrassment. Why did she suddenly care that he would see her in full? Unlike her, Talon didn't seem fazed by the request. He simply stood, poised, waiting for her to follow orders.

She rose and moved to the shelf, but this time she kept her face trained on the wall instead of on him. The water was only midway up her calves here.

Talon quickly set about washing her legs. Once he was busy, she allowed herself to glance at him. What a sight he was! Watching him work left her heart tense with emotion. Was it attraction? Could it possibly be? No, she pushed the notion from her mind. She was simply taken aback by the sight of the king—for he was a king in every sense of the word—hunched over, washing Dragonwall's outsider.

Yet, despite her conclusions, she began to question her feelings again as he made his way to the peak of her thighs. Her heart started rushing uncontrollably, and then his hand and the sponge were in between them. Her face burned like fire. She was thankful that he kept his gaze focused on his work.

He did not linger. She didn't expect him to. In fact, it might have been awkward if he had, and she was glad of it.

"Leg up," he instructed, ready to wash her right foot. She lifted it and placed it into his hand, but nearly lost her balance and had to grab both of his shoulders for support. The sponge tickled the sole of her foot and she let out a giggle. It brought questioning eyes to hers as he glanced up.

"It tickles," she breathed.

The corners of his mouth fought against a smile. When he finished with the right foot, he did the left. "There," he said, dropping her foot at last. "All that is left is your hair." He stepped away for a moment and then returned with the soap they used for shampoo.

She quickly submerged, wetting her hair before moving over to the rim of the tub. It was a blessing that her back was to him. He did not see her close her eyes when his fingers began gently massaging her scalp. Goosebumps prickled her skin. She loved getting her hair washed at the salon, it was one of her favorite ways to pamper herself. Since coming to Dragonwall, there was little pampering to be had.

As Talon's fingers worked their magic, a deep calm settled over her. She was disappointed when he finished. "Rinse, if you wouldn't mind."

She scooted forward and dipped beneath the water's surface. His hands stayed on her head, guiding it down until it was submerged enough that he could work out the soap. When she popped back up, he gathered her clean hair in his hands and twisted it together, wringing it out, then said, "There, now you are clean." And all too soon he was backing away, finished.

She scooted to the opposite side of the tub, silently pondering what all of this meant. There had been nothing sexual in his actions, yet, the intimacy was screamingly undeniable. That sent her heart flying.

"Do you wish to remain in the water for a time?" he asked from the other side of the room. She did and told him so. His face was shadowed, but she saw him nod. "Very well. I will see to your dinner and return to collect you." Without waiting for acknowledgement, he turned and left the room.

Finally alone, she let herself fully relax, pushing the strangely likable encounter with Talon from her mind, willing every last ounce of tension to leave her muscles. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the rim of the tub, losing herself in the back of her eyelids. The silence was rejuvenating.

She wasn't sure if her magic was back in full, but she certainly felt more like herself. She considered trying a simple cantrip but decided it was best not to push her luck.

She must have dozed off, because sometime later she heard the chamber door open. Talon was back in the room, rummaging around. She opened one eye and squinted across the room; he was holding a towel. "It is time to eat. Come."

As if on cue, her stomach gave a huge gurgle. She was starving. With the prospect of food in mind, she drew herself from the tub. Talon was at the base of the granite steps. He held a towel out for her with open arms, arms she was no longer afraid to place herself within.

He collected her in the soft material; she huddled against him as he wrapped it around her. He then proceeded to dry her, rubbing the fabric over her skin until all the water was soaked up. Then he moved behind her and took her hair, folding it into the towel and squeezing in various places. Without a word, he walked away and gathered a fluffy bathrobe, which he quickly slipped around her and tied at the waist.

She watched him all the while, trying not to smile at the man who was behaving so differently than what she was used to. She once believed him to be a monster, but these weren't the actions of a monster.

He finished and looked down at her. "Hungry?"

"Ravenous."

"Come then." He took her by the hand and led her from the room. His skin was warm and she gratefully held on.

They did not go to the large banquet table in the adjacent room. Instead he led her to a smaller breakfast table beside the living area. A spread of food had been placed there and she gazed at it, transfixed.

Dropping her hand, Talon moved over and pulled out a chair. She took it and he took the one beside it. There he sat, quietly studying her. "Well?" he said at last.

That was all the invitation she needed before hungrily attacking her dinner. She grabbed whatever she could and heaped it onto her plate, then she began scarfing it down. After a few minutes she slowed her pace and grew full quickly.

Talon sat at ease, leaned back against his chair with arms crossed as he studied her. When her stomach was satisfied, she realized that there was still something on her mind, something that kept her from relaxing entirely. "Talon, I..." Her guilt returned. "I'm sorry for what I said to you about...about—"

"Stop apologizing, Claire. It is unnecessary."

"But it is necessary!" She gazed back at him, unrelenting. "What I said to you during our meal was wrong." The pitch of her voice lifted. "It was insulting, thoughtless, and cruel!"

"You want to talk of being cruel?" Talon's face was no longer controlled. "Let us talk of cruelty—my cruelty. Hmm? Shall we talk of all the ways I have been cruel to you, of how horribly I treated you when you arrived at my keep, under my protection as Dragonwall's king?" His eyes began flashing angrily, but the ire was not directed at her. His madness was meant for himself. "Your one cruel statement is nothing compared to all the ways I have mistreated you. Gods above! I had you tied to a rack. I threatened to kill you!" His elevated breathing forced him to pause for several moments. She watched his chest heave with each breath. "When you were taken," he said with a calmer voice, "my faults replayed in my mind, over and again. All I could think about was how, for one brief moment, I had actually tried to kill you in the dungeons of the keep. For that, I can never forgive myself. Never. I thought about how—how you might be..."

"Talon, you already apologized." She recalled the necklace he had given her; she recalled how she had stupidly left it behind, as if it was meaningless. It was anything but meaningless.

"You think an apology makes everything better? That it erases my actions?"

"I...no...yes...I don't know. Why do I feel like we are fighting again?"

He sighed. "You're right. Thank you for your apology, but please, no more. You owe me nothing. What happened is a failing on my part. I am responsible for you, and I have no one to blame but myself."

It didn't seem very fair of him to take the blame, but she kept her mouth closed.

"Stay here for a moment." He stood up and went to the mantle.

She watched him curiously until he picked up the jewelry box containing the necklace he'd given to her. Was it yesterday? Two days ago? She hardly knew.

He set it on the table before her. "I meant what I said yesterday. I do not like arguing with you. It makes me..." He ran a hand through his black hair. She gazed up at him until he said, "Fighting with you upsets me." Then he plopped very unkingly-like back into his chair, evidently flustered.

"I'm sorry that I left this special gift behind. I hope my behavior does not translate as dislike. I was just..." She trailed off.

He waved his hand, dismissing the matter. "It's fine."

They fell silent after that, and several minutes passed until another thought occurred to her. "I should have told you about my ability to hear the Drengr. I shouldn't have made Reyr promise to keep my secret. It was wrong of me to ask him."

Talon huffed. "Love makes people do strange things."

She was left scowling. "That—that's not why I did it."

"But you care for him, yes?"

"I..." The truth hit her, and she smoothed her scowl away. Talon had seen them together fairly often. He was simply looking for reassurance, although it surprised her that whatever she did or didn't feel for Reyr might worry him. "I don't like Reyr in that way. He's a dear friend, my dearest in fact. He's the only person who believed in me. He has always had my back."

A frown appeared on Talon's face. It made his scars look more pronounced. She preferred him smiling.

A sudden realization struck her. "Reyr told you about my ability, didn't he? That's why you weren't completely surprised when I called to you telepathically." Everything was making more sense now. "I expected you to freak out about it."

"Yes, he told me."

"What else did he tell you?"

Talon looked her straight in the eye. "He told me that he loves you."

She clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping. She might as well have been doused in ice water. This news shouldn't have come as a surprise, but her denial had played against her. Denial was always easier than acceptance. "I'm sure he meant only as a friend."

"No, Claire. He is in love with you."

She exhaled loudly. These were words she hoped to never hear. There was always the hope that Reyr would never act on his feelings, that they would be friends for a long time to come, and that she would never have to face his inner demons. Life in Dragonwall may have been a fantasy, but it was never meant to be a fairytale.

Poor Reyr. Was it her fault for being too kind? Had she encouraged his love? Perhaps she had spent too much time with him, but how could she not? He was the only person willing to believe her on so many occasions. He was the one who was there for her when no one else was...

"Do not blame yourself."

She looked up at Talon. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because loving you cannot be helped." He shrugged. "It is no fault of yours. He...he has been alone for a very long time."

"So?! So have you!" She shook her head and sighed. "Reyr once warned me that King's Shields were not impervious to love. I suppose he said that for a reason. But the truth is, I will only ever love him as a friend. Yet, how can we go on being friends?" A new thought occurred to her—a scary thought. "I cannot bear to lose his friendship." Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. How could she have been so stupid?!

"I did not mean to upset you." Talon's words brought her from her reverie.

"It's—it's fine. I'll deal."

"You should sleep. You have had more than enough for one day. It is well past midnight. I had my servants make up my bed for you while you were in the bath—I never use it anyway. You may return to your room in the morning. I have business to attend to in my study. If you need anything, you may call on me there."

"Your...your bed?" She glanced in the direction of his sleeping chamber. The door was open and candlelight spilled out.

"Is that an unfavorable request?" He looked at her innocently, as if he saw nothing awkward about it.

Reluctant to upset him, she shook her head. Besides, the thought of returning to her room where Desaree and Saffra were surely waiting, was daunting. Sleep was the best thing for her now.

"Very well, then." Talon stood. Then to her complete surprise, he bent over and kissed her forehead. "Good night, Claire. I am glad you are safe." He then turned on his heel and vanished down the staircase to his study.

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