"Castel?"
Jerking upright, he realised he must have dozed off in his chair. The room was dark except for a lone oil lamp burning on a small table next to the bed. Isobel was awake, leaning heavily against a pillow propped up against the wall. The linen bandage he had wrapped around her wound earlier covered her abdomen.
Straightening, he leaned closer to the bed to see her better. Her deep blue eyes were still glazed from the fever, but she appeared focused and awake. More so than he would have expected after seeing the spread of the Orc's Blood poison on her chest.
"I must have fainted," she said, smoothing wrinkles out of his bedsheets with her fingers. "Thank you for taking care of me."
"No need to apologise. Everyone needs a helping hand now and then. What happened to you?" He made a vague motion towards her bandaged midriff. "Orc's Blood?"
The dark circles under her eyes made him feel guilty about his barrage of questions. He made a wry face. "Don't answer now. You must be exhausted."
"A tad," she admitted with a tired smile.
"I must confess that our Spymaster, Boreas, knows you're here. I didn't break my promise not to tell, but he always seems to know things."
"I remember Boreas. We met in Messina a few times." She nodded slowly, her movements measured as if she was trying not to expend too much energy. "If you trust him, then so do I."
"How did no one recognise you as you arrived?" She was rather famous. Once you saved the world, people knew your name. She didn't look like a saviour of the world right then, half-sitting in his bed with her eyes heavy-lidded and her body wracked by poison.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I'm known by name only. Most people have never met me and would never recognise me. The guards at the gate assumed I was another unfortunate soul needing shelter from the snowstorm."
He supposed that made sense. While he would recognise her anywhere, those who had only ever heard of her might not. Remembering the Spymaster's request, he stood. "I will send Boreas a message to let him know you're awake. He wants to see you."
Not wanting to leave her alone for too long, he hurried out of the bedchamber and through his study. Opening the door to the hallway, he grabbed the first available person and gave them a cryptic message to deliver to Boreas. The Spymaster would know what he meant.
When he returned, Isobel had leaned her head back against the wall, and her eyes were shut. Despite the exhaustion and fever, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The years had not faded her looks, and his gaze traced the familiar features of her face in the flickering light of the lamp. The dark, winged eyebrows, so different from her silver-blond hair, the high cheekbones, the delicate nose, and the soft, full mouth. If anything, she was more beautiful now than when she had been a young Adept at Highglaive.
His eyes fell to the angry, dark lines stretching over her skin before disappearing beneath the bandage and what remained of her robe. "Does it hurt?" he asked gently.
She made a wry face. "More than I care to admit."
They remained silent as he wondered what he could do to help. He hated the feeling of helplessness as she took measured breaths, presumably to handle the pain. Fine lines on her face spoke of the strain she was under, no matter how much she must try to hide it. His hands fisted by his sides.
"I was happy to see you." The quiet words nearly made him jump. Her eyes were still closed, but the ghost of a smile graced her lips. "I knew the High King had sent his forces to Fort Mael—but I had not realised you had gone. When I saw you walking across the courtyard earlier... I was so grateful and relieved to see someone familiar. A friendly face."
"I'm surprised you see me that way."
She opened her eyes to meet his gaze, and he almost regretted his words.
"Why?" The small crease between her brows deepened. "I know we haven't seen each other much since you left Highglaive to become a King's Guard, but we were friendly once. Were we not?"
Unable to meet her eyes—there was something about those deep-blue eyes that made it feel as if she could see his deepest, darkest thoughts—he watched the flickering flame of the oil lamp. "We have barely spoken for eight years."
"Only because you were never present when I visited the High King."
It was true. He had made himself scarce any time he knew the sorceress was due at the Royal Castle. Because he could not bear to see her. There had been rumours about the great love affair between the High King and Isobel since the two of them saved the world. A fascination from the masses with the story of how they could not be together because of the strict rules of the sorcerers.
Initially, he had believed the stories and had not wanted to see her with the king, but as time went on, he had begun to doubt their validity. The High King was very obviously in love with his wife.
But Cas had continued to avoid Isobel during her rare visits.
"Why was that?" Isobel asked, interrupting his memories. Her voice was slow and tired, and a quick glance confirmed that her eyes were closed again.
Because I loved you.
The words he could never say stuck in his throat.
Because I have always loved you. And most likely, I always will.
Frustrated, he walked over to look out the window towards the courtyard, hoping that Boreas would show up soon. The snow was coming down so fast and thick that he couldn't see anything beyond the snowflakes swirling past his window. He fell in love with her when they were both young at Highglaive. She an Adept training to be a Sorcerer, and he one of the Sentinels there to guard them.
When the city of Messina fell to the Dark Disciple, Isobel had been one of the lucky ones. Newly having earned her Sorcerer title, she had been away on a mission. She had not had to experience the onslaught. The horde of followers had overrun the city hoping to release the Dark God from his banishment in the Nether Realm. Messina—the city no one had believed could fall—didn't stand a chance against the sheer volume of the Dark Disciple's army.
Highglaive, home of the sorcerers, had been their true target. The sorcerers had fought well, but they could not defeat Deva and his followers. It had been a massacre. The acrid stench of burning bodies and crumbling buildings assaulted him, and he could hear the distressed shouts and screams of people fleeing. People in pain.
When the door to the bedchamber opened, he whirled around, only realising a moment later that his hand was on the hilt of his sword.
Boreas gave him a pointed look under bushy, dark eyebrows as he walked towards the bed.
"Wanting to cut me down, Commander?" An insolent grin followed the words.
Cas shrugged, trying to act as if nothing was amiss. "Not if you knock."
The Spymaster looked down at the slight form of the sorceress on the bed. "I thought you said she was awake?"
"I am. Mostly." Isobel winced as she tried to sit up straighter, and Cas quickly helped prop her up against the pillows.
"I'm sorry we do not meet again under better circumstances, Sorceress." Boreas nodded towards her bandage. "How are you feeling?"
"Like a dragon chewed me up and spit me out again." She smiled wryly. "I need—"
"The antidote to Orc's Blood," Boreas cut in. "I'm working on it. We finally got hold of the last ingredient, but it will take a little longer to concoct the potion. How did this happen? Where did you run into someone with this poison?"
"I should have known you'd know what it was. Thank you for helping me."
Cas and Boreas exchanged a look. The sorceress wasn't even subtle about avoiding the question. Worn out by a potent poison, she still protected the secrets the sorcerers held so dear. Noticing their reaction, she sighed.
"I am not trying to be difficult. It's safer for everyone the fewer know where I am and what I'm doing."
"Does it have anything to do with our suspicion that Son of Deva is hiding in Dreadlands?" Boreas asked.
"Maybe," she allowed. "I can tell you I come from the Dreadlands."
"Alone?" Cas couldn't help the question. No one travelled to the vast former kingdom north of the mountain pass without at least one companion. The idea of her doing so didn't sit well with him. Dreadlands was a treacherous area to traverse. The wilderness had reclaimed large parts of what had once been a flourishing kingdom, other parts remaining bare, the ground scorched beyond repair. No one knew what had transpired. Even the history books were filled with more questions than answers.
It was where Deva had gathered his followers before the attack on Messina. Beasts and monsters sent from the Nether Realm by the Dark God, and people who simply followed the Dark Disciple on his mission. Now they suspected his son was trying to do the same.
"Always alone," Isobel confirmed.
"Dangerous." Boreas tapped the bridge of his nose as he pondered her words. "I never send lone agents there. It's too risky."
"I do have a particular set of skills."
The dry comment made the Spymaster let out a bellowing laugh. It always surprised Cas, even after all this time. Such a small man should not be capable of such a loud, booming sound.
Isobel's eyes drifted shut and her chin lowered towards her chest. Cas helped her lie back down, and she smiled gratefully.
"Let's talk more when Sorceress Isobel has had the antidote and is recovering," he said, annoyed with himself for not stopping the discussion sooner. She was obviously not in a condition to be questioned extensively by the nosy Spymaster.
"Yes, of course. Of course." Boreas nodded. "Get some rest, Sorceress. I will return with the antidote as soon as it's ready."
"Please remember," she murmured, her words slurred. "No one can know I am here."
"No one will know. Cas and I will make sure of it."
"Thank you."
She was asleep before they closed the door behind them. Cas leaned his hips against the desk as he watched the Spymaster pace the length of his study. The pacing seemed to help the shorter man think, and he had learnt to stay quiet and wait for him to finish.
"How is she still alive?" Boreas said as he came to a stop a short while later. "Anyone else would have been long dead by now. With that spread, she must have been attacked two days ago, at least."
Cas crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that really what we should focus on right now? Let's make sure she survives this. Then you can obsess about how she did it."
"Yes. You're right." The Spymaster flashed him an apologetic grin. Taking a deep breath, he sobered up. "Right. This is what we will do. The Sorceress will obviously need to recuperate once she's received the antidote. I don't know how long it will take for it to work since it has been so long, but even once the poison is gone, she will be weak."
Nodding, Cas had considered the same. When the High Queen of Erya had been poisoned, it had taken her quite a while to fully regain her strength, and they had administered the antidote to her much sooner.
"I think Fort Mael will be the safest place for her," Boreas continued. "She should not travel. Remaining here for now, she can recuperate in relative safety."
"I agree. We have a few rooms we haven't cleaned out yet. Some are in remote areas of the fort where she could avoid being seen. I can have so—"
The Spymaster held his hand up to stop him, and he frowned.
"Maybe later," Boreas said. "She shouldn't be alone. Not yet. We need to watch her to make she doesn't take a turn for the worse."
"Right..." Cas picked up a silver letter opener in the shape of a small sword—a gift from the High Queen—and moved it between his fingers to keep himself occupied. He suspected he knew where his friend was going with this, and he wasn't sure he liked it.
"She should stay here for now," Boreas said, confirming his suspicions.
He glanced at the closed door to his bedchamber. Keep Isobel in his bed? The woman of his secret dreams and worst nightmares? He swallowed. "Is it not better to allow her some privacy?"
"No. We want to keep an eye on her." Boreas's perceptive brown eyes searched his. Pretending to drop the letter opener, Cas turned his back to the other man and bent to pick it up. He had never told Boreas what he had experienced when the Dark Disciple stormed Messina, but that didn't necessarily mean that the other man didn't know. It was quite unnerving how much information the Spymaster possessed.
"Will that be a problem, Cas?"
"Not at all," he said quickly. "See, having my sleeping quarters next to my study isn't such a bad idea after all, is it? It will allow me to check on her throughout the day with no one the wiser."
Returning the letter opener to its designated space on the desk, he schooled his features into a blank mask and turned back to the other man.
"It's still a terrible idea," Boreas muttered. "But I will allow that it comes in handy now."
It looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he must have decided against it. Turning around to leave, he looked over his shoulder. "I will have some supplies delivered."
When the door closed, Cas breathed a sigh of relief. He had worried the Spymaster might ask him about the past. The last thing he wanted was to talk—or even think—about what had transpired in Messina while it had been in the hands of the Dark Disciple. He didn't want to remember the pain, nor the visions pushed on him in attempts to extract information. The mages following Deva had been capable of terrible things. Make his mind conjure harrowing images. Or beautiful ones, only to snatch them away. Breaking his spirit one piece at a time.
He shook his head, trying to chase the memories away. They were harder to ward off than usual. Another glance at the closed door to his bedchamber. Maybe it was because the primary element of his tortured visions was now lying in his bed, all too real.
~~~~~~