Page 33 of Stolen Thorn Bride
They reachedthe gates as dusk was falling, though gates seemed a poor description for the iron-clad monstrosities that barred their way.
Three soldiers stood atop the barbican, bows at the ready as she and Dechlan paused in the shadow of the wall.
“Do you plan to open the gates, or shall I return with a battering ram?” Dechlan called up, and one of the men atop the wall literally dropped his bow.
Kasia smothered a smile behind her hand as the others leaned forward with incredulous expressions.
“Rian?”
The word was followed by a rapid conversation in Elvish, out of which Kasia recognized nothing but the word Callum—the name of one of Dechlan’s retainers. The oldest of her captors, if she remembered correctly, though the recollection brought a scowl to her face.
Whatever passed between Dechlan and the others, it seemed to convince them to open the gates. Kasia was a bit taken aback when she heard no groan of tortured hinges, nor the creak of an ancient winch. Instead, two of the guardsmen moved into position at opposite ends of the barbican. As Kasia watched, the metal plates that armored the gate began to fold back, as naturally as twitching aside a curtain.
Magic, she realized, mouth agape as the gate itself opened on invisible hinges… revealing a depressingly normal portcullis being raised at the frantic hands of the soldier who’d dropped his bow.
So they were protected by both magical and mundane means, Kasia noted, not sure why that should either surprise or disappoint her. It made good sense, even if the romantic part of her had rather hoped to find herself entering an elven castle right out of a story. Soaring alabaster towers, crystal arches that gleamed by moonlight, flowered courtyards filled with fountains, and dreamy, white-robed elves engaged in their peaceful, mystical pursuits…
Dechlan, with his perfectly molded features, his silken fall of dark hair, and his mysterious gray eyes could have emerged straight from the elven castle of her fantasies.
At least, that might have been true if she’d only observed him from afar.
But by now, she was far too familiar with the war-forged steel of his will. She’d caught a glimpse of the darkness he carried and the scars that marked him, inside and out.
He fit here, in a way he could never belong in that fantasy world of poems and stories.
The moment they passed under the portcullis and entered the bailey, a crowd surged around them, and Dechlan dismounted into a sea of jubilation. Disbelief. And more than a few tears. They’d thought him dead, but he had returned.
Kasia felt a bit awkward playing audience to the emotions presently on display, so she glanced around at what she could see of Northwatch Keep. Her only experience with real castles was Caislan Daire, which had adhered far more closely to her idea of a home for elven nobility.
Northwatch Keep was built not for show but for survival. Its bones were sunk deep, and its walls were thick. But the craftsmanship that marked Caislan Daire was visible here too, where each stone fitted smoothly with its neighbors, and every surface shone with care. Even the most utilitarian doors and windows gave the impression of understated perfection, while the whole was a masterpiece of balance in tandem with function.
She was still sitting on Aral—reluctant to dismount into a sea of jubilation that had nothing to do with her—when a quiet presence at her side caught her attention.
“My lady?”
Drat, but these elves were gorgeous. The woman at her ankle wore no armor—just a simple dress and cloak—but her golden-brown hair fell to her waist in perfect waves, and her brown eyes were large and luminous in her perfectly oval face.
Kasia felt more like a pig-keeper than ever, especially when the woman smiled in a rather hesitant and perfunctory way.
“Welcome to the Northwatch,” she said, with a brief dip of her head that seemed oddly like a curtsy. “I am Eilis.” She gestured to a young male elf with chestnut brown hair who stood close behind her. “And this is Tiernan, the first of your guard. No doubt the Rian will provide more in time, as befits your rank.”
Tiernan bowed deeply, his hand pressed to his heart. “In the meantime, I am entirely committed to your safety, my lady.” When he rose from the bow, his blue eyes were warm, and unless Kasia was mistaken, he appeared genuinely pleased with his assignment. Time, she supposed, would tell.
“It will be my honor,” Eilis was saying, “to attend you as you adjust to your place here among us.”
She sounded less honored than determined to do her duty, but Kasia knew she shouldn’t judge based on so short an acquaintance. And yet, she hesitated long enough that the woman sighed before trying again.
“If you will come with me, my lady, I will show you to your chambers and see to your comfort. I’m sure you will wish to bathe after such a long journey.”
Kasia supposed she did, but found herself oddly reluctant to part from Dechlan without… something. Some indication of what the journey had meant to her, perhaps. Or even just a promise that he wasn’t going to dump her here and walk out of her life.
But he was still surrounded, and she could not bring herself to make any demands on his attention.
“Thank you,” she said instead, eyeing the ground carefully as she eased out of her saddle and let her weight drop.
Not carefully enough. Her knees buckled, and she was forced to catch herself by grabbing on to Aral’s harness.
A moment later, Tiernan’s firm hand grasped her elbow and helped her gain her feet fully. He offered her an encouraging smile, but when Kasia looked over her shoulder, she saw Eilis and winced. The elf woman’s lips were pressed together tightly, as if she were disappointed by such a display of weakness.