Treasure Ch. 08

"Coming!" she said loudly, and then she leapt to her feet and dashed forward to open the door. "I'm sorry, father, I was just---" She paused and pursed her lips as Eugene glared at her from the crack in her open door. "What do you want?" she grumped. Her fingers clutched the edge of the door warily, ready to slam it in his face.

"What are you plotting?" he demanded, and she scowled at him.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"You're up to something," he growled, those suspicious eyes scanning her bedroom. "I don't know what it is, but you---"

"Don't be stupid."

"I heard a noise---"

"I fell, but I'm quite alright now."

"And your father, he told me---"

"Then you'd best abide by his wishes," she countered swiftly. His brow furrowed in frustration, and he gritted his teeth hard before he spoke again. She could practically hear his molars grinding together.

"Know this," he finally said, his voice dark and monotonous. "The duke might be viewing the world from behind a veil of joy---" The word joy seemed so out of place in his grumpiness that Catherine had to stifle a giggle. "---but I know your ways. And while I haven't quite figured out what it is you have planned, I want you to know that I'll be watching you like a hawk, orders be damned. If I hear one more noise from this bedroom..." Catherine's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You'll do what?" she asked quietly, and he seemed to balk at her tone. "It isn't proper of you to threaten me like that," she scolded, glaring out at him with white-hot fury in her eyes. "You're here to protect me, not follow me around and accuse me of...of whatever paranoid scheme you suspect I'm planning. Unless I am screaming, you don't have any business here. Now, I think I'd like you to leave before I'm forced to tell my father about this nonsense," she concluded sternly. Eugene opened his mouth to retort, but she silenced him with a severe look that might have made Leda swell with pride. Finally, grudgingly, he turned and stormed back down the hall, and she shut the door quickly behind him. Once she had latched it tightly, she heard a noise from behind her.

"Cramming a dragon beneath your bed," Adeon's voice said bitterly, and she winced. When she turned to look at him, he was half-emerged from the dark crevasse and squinting up at her. "Some have died for less." He looked so ridiculous and utterly miserable clambering out from under her bed that she felt her mouth twitch into a smile.

"Please don't be upset," she begged, scurrying forward to help him out. "You couldn't move...I had to..."

"I'm not angry with you. It was just...dusty," he mumbled as she hauled him forward, and then he rose shakily to his feet to brush the thin layer of dust from his shirt and trousers. Then, with a very un-Adeon-like lack of elegance, he flopped backwards onto the mattress. "Come here," he said softly, and she crawled carefully on top of him to press her mouth against his. His eyelids eased shut as he tasted her lips, and his hands rose slowly to cradle her shoulders.

"I really am sorry," she said against his mouth, and he gave her lower lip a playful nip. "Are you going to be alright? Are you certain I can't bring you something to eat?"

"The only thing I'd like to eat is that evil little man," he sighed, drawing his lips together into another long, gentle kiss that erased every bit of coherence from her brain. "Perhaps you can fetch him again."

With some effort, she managed to pull away and kiss his nose. "Don't be silly."

"One of his limbs, then."

"I'm afraid not."

"You're not any fun at all." He seemed to wince as he spoke, and she frowned when he quickly replaced the expression with a wide, forced smile.

"You're hurt," she quipped. "What's wrong?" Those slitted pupils rolled heavenwards in exasperation, but she kept her glower trained on him until he relented.

"The journey was long," he admitted dully. "My wings are sore." She cocked her head to the side in confusion, and he arched a thin white eyebrow. "You seem puzzled," he said, and she thought for a moment before speaking.

"How can your wings be sore," she asked slowly, "if you...don't have wings? Right now, that is."

"I can still feel them. Like ghosts of themselves, folded into my shoulders."

"How very strange." She clambered off of him, ignoring his hand as it reached for her and fell unsuccessfully though the air. "Roll over," she ordered, and he stared blankly at her. "Please," she added apologetically. He shrugged and rotated onto his stomach, and Catherine moved slowly and carefully to straddle the base of his spine. A low, appreciative noise rumbled in his throat as her thighs squeezed his hips, and she swatted his arm playfully. "You're terrible," she told him in mock scorn, biting back a grin, and he turned his head slightly to gaze at her from the corner of his eye.

"I'm entirely incapable of thinking straight with that lovely little body pressed against me," he said lazily, his lips curving into an impish smile. She leaned forward to roll the heels of her palms into his shoulder blades, and his eyes rolled slowly back into his head. "Oh," he sighed. Beneath her hands, his muscles seemed to be loosening.

"Does that feel better?" she inquired hopefully, rotating her hands to knead her knuckles deep into his flesh.

"Like the rivers of the heavens coursing over my shoulders," he groaned, going luxuriously slack underneath her. She flushed and pressed her lips to the back of his neck.

"I have something to tell you," she added softly. He let out a noise of inquiry against the mattress, and she continued to roll her palms, hard and slow. "My father is leaving tomorrow afternoon. And he feels terrible about keeping me locked up, so..." She trailed off and bit her lip, dragging her thumbs gently into the flesh that ran parallel to his spine. "...he told the guards to leave me alone," she finished quietly, and his eyelids flickered open.

"Did he really?" he asked, and a note of excitement was chasing away the weariness in his voice.

"He really did. So, the day after tomorrow..." She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his hair. "...I think we can leave."

"Oh, Catherine," he breathed gleefully. "That's absolutely wonderful..." He paused when her breath hitched slightly against his hair, and when he spoke again, she could hear the frown in his voice. "...Isn't it?" he asked warily. She nodded desperately and tightened her arms in a tiny squeeze.

"You don't need to worry, Adeon---I've made up my mind. It's just...it's difficult. I feel like my father is finally happy, and it's going to be hard to take that happiness away from him again."

"But you'll be happy," he protested, gazing at her evenly from the mattress as she rose to rub his shoulders again.

"Immensely happy," she assured him. "Even if we're in a cave, or the middle of the wilderness, or in some faraway land, I'll be waking up next to you every single morning. I won't have to sneak around, keep secrets, or hide you under my bed; we can just be. And I'm beginning to think that that's all I'll ever need."

"To be?" he murmured, closing his eyes languidly as she kneaded the muscles near his neck.

"To be with you." His lips slid open into a contagiously happy smile, and she planted a kiss on a protruding ridge of his spine. "You look tired."

"You've woven quite the spell over me," he sighed wearily. "Come lay with me."

"That," she said, tapping on his shoulders with every syllable for emphasis, "is an awful idea. You're terribly comfortable, and I'm worried that---" After a flash of movement and a brief skirmish, he had rolled over and trapped her beneath him.

"I insist," he purred, and she beat her fists uselessly against his chest as he knelt to cover her neck with kisses. His mouth moved slowly and fluidly over the skin of her throat, dousing her frenzy and replacing it with a heady sort of heat. "Just for a moment," he urged against her skin. Catherine let out a soft moan as his hands roamed over her chest before he wound his arms behind her shoulders. The weight of his body on top of hers was utterly intoxicating.

"A moment," she agreed softly, closing her eyes as he buried one of his hands in her mass of dark, curling hair and gave it a gentle tug. Almost automatically, her arms wound around his neck. The angles of his shoulders were taut and warm and so perfectly familiar under her fingers, and she delighted in the firm pressure of his torso as she clasped him closer.

His nose brushed the curve of her cheek. "Gods, you're so warm..."

---

Catherine stretched languorously and yawned as the clouds shifted, projecting a wide rectangle of sunlight that dappled the tip of her nose to the base of her bed. Her eyelids fluttered open at the sound of birds, and she squinted blearily at the landscape in front of her; a flurry of silhouettes cast into blinding relief in front of the sunlit banks of snow. As she shifted into a sitting position, a broad hand curled possessively over her hip and dragged her back against a warm chest. She grinned and nuzzled into the fabric of Adeon's shirt.

And then her eyes snapped wide open.

"Adeon," she gasped hoarsely, and he simply crushed her panicky, flailing body a little tighter against him. Despite the anxiety her body was channeling into her nerves like electricity, she had to marvel at the way he could just disregard her physical efforts to free herself.

"Catherine," he exhaled into her hair.

"Adeon, it's morning!" she whispered, and his eyelids flicked back to reveal a pair of wide, brilliantly green eyes. His slitted pupils shrank to pinpricks in the blinding sunlight. "What are we going to do?!" she continued frantically. He gripped her shoulders in confusion for a moment before bounding to his feet.

"It's still early," he said quickly, jumping in place as he tugged on a boot. His voice was still rusty with sleep. "I'll be fine."

"But the guards---"

"---have never faced the likes of me, dearest; of that you can be certain." He swooped down to kiss her fiercely once he had strapped on his other boot, and when he pulled back, his lips had twisted into an excited grin. "Pack what you need. I'll be back at midnight tonight to forge a plan with you, and then tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow," she repeated breathlessly, clutching at his arm, and he pulled her in for another kiss. There were a thousand words in those three syllables. He finally tore away from her and strode hastily towards the window before wrenching it open, leaving her laying limply beneath her blankets with only the taste of him lingering on her tongue.

"Until tonight, my love," he called quietly, chancing one last glimpse at her from over his shoulder, and she cringed as he hurtled the sill and vanished. The drop wasn't terribly far, but it was still substantial enough to make her worry. She waited in silence for several minutes to make sure his descent wasn't met by a chorus of shouts, and then, her anxiety somewhat sated, she rubbed her eyes hard and rose to close the window. Beneath her sill, the frosty garden was still and quiet. She fervently thanked every deity she had ever heard of.

That was entirely too close.

A prim rap sounded at her door, and she quickly pushed the window shut. "Breakfast!" Leda's voice called.

"Let me dress," she shouted back, trying to swallow the quaver in her throat. That word echoed sweetly, terribly in her ears as she gazed down at the gnarled corpses of rosebushes below her. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

As always, night couldn't come fast enough. Disillusioned by the passage of time, Catherine put on her cloak and boots after breakfast and dragged the mutilated dummy back out into the garden. Its scarred face stared mournfully out at her from between the barren plum trees, and she felt slightly guilty as she fitted an arrow and pulled back the string. Her eyes narrowed, and she slowly lowered the bow to train the arrow point at its wooden chest. Only slightly.

"I hear the trick is in your breathing." Catherine jerked in surprise, and the arrow went flying several feet to the right before burying itself in a shrub. She quickly turned to find the source of the noise and saw a ruddy face leering out at her from between the bars of the iron gate.

"I suppose you wouldn't know, would you?" Catherine said haughtily, and the man's grin widened. "You couldn't hit anything if it was dancing two feet in front of you and insulting your mother."

Disgrace didn't seem to suit the former Sir Henry. His face was redder than usual from the sun, and his mop of blond hair looked grimier and more unkempt. Most prominent of all were the dark circles beneath his eyes, which were yellowed from his constant diet of liquor. On his left shoulder was a steel shoulder guard emblazoned with a lion, but the rest of his armor was gone---probably sold for ale money.

"That bow probably would have done you some good if you had it on top of the mountain," he continued. "Then you might have been able to escape faster. It's a shame there wasn't a small armory of weapons stashed away in that godforsaken cave." He paused, his beady eyes glancing skywards, as if in thought. "Wait, now that I think on it..."

"You are a horrible person," Catherine said sweetly, "and I don't think I'm even going to waste my time speaking to you. Goodbye, Sir Henry." She made to turn around and suddenly put a hand to her lips in feigned scandal. "Oh, dear. I'm so sorry. It must have just slipped out."

"Not to worry. When I bring the king that dragon's heart, he'll welcome me back into knighthood with open arms." Catherine rolled her eyes, then turned back to the dummy, nocked another arrow, and squinted at her target. "I don't suppose you have any idea where the beast went, do you?"

"Why would I know that?" she asked dryly, her wrist quivering as she pointed the arrow towards the dummy's head. She imagined Henry's leering mouth where the dummy's lips were, and his little piggy eyes in place of the paint spots.

"You did spend a week with that monster. I thought you might have heard something."

"Then you thought wrong."

"That's a shame." From the corner of her eye, she saw him grip two of the bars and lean in closer. "That poor little squire was terrified when he came back down the mountain, you know. Wild-eyed, babbling all sorts of nonsense," he said.

"That's all incredibly unfortunate, but I'm---"

"He said something very interesting," Henry interrupted loudly, and Catherine gritted her teeth in frustration. "Something in particular that really stood out. A real head-scratcher, it was. He kept insisting that you weren't alone in that cave."

"Of course I wasn't," Catherine said dully, preparing to loose the arrow. "There was a dragon there, in case you've forgotten."

"Not according to him. He kept yammering on about some mysterious man with white hair. Said the two of you looked a bit..." The white feather fletching went spinning aimlessly off into the trees. "...cozy," Henry finished softly. Catherine willed the color to return to her face as she spun on her heel to face him again, her hands clenching hard at the bow.

"You're more of an idiot than I thought you were if you're going to believe the tales of a terrified little boy," she snapped. He smiled in a lopsided way that some of the noble girls used to find endearing, but now she thought it only looked like an oily smirk in his grubby face.

"I've been hearing a lot of tales recently. Just trying to get to the bottom of it all."

"Good for you," Catherine muttered.

"So I'll ask again," Henry said, the amusement fading slowly from his expression. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that dragon's whereabouts...would you?" From her peripheral vision, Catherine saw Cedric striding purposefully into the garden. When he saw Henry, a dark look crossed his features.

"Is this man bothering you, my lady?" he asked stiffly. Henry squinted irritably at him, and Catherine offered him a brilliant smile. She had never been so happy to see one of her father's guards.

"Very, very much so," she answered cheerfully. "He's being quite rude, and it's just so distracting..."

"I'll leave you to your bloody practicing," Henry grunted, his gaze flitting moodily towards Cedric before he pushed away from the bars. "You'll let me know if you...remember anything, won't you?" he added, smiling widely. It was taunting and vaguely lecherous, that look, and Catherine tried to ignore the wave of sickness that assaulted her stomach. Instead, she turned her utterly beatific smile towards him and fluttered her eyelashes.

"Absolutely," she gushed in a sticky-sweet voice. Henry gave her one last, calculating look before turning to leave, and she watched his retreating back with more than a little worry. No wonder the city's inhabitants had been treating her oddly. She wondered how many people had heard that particular rumor.

"My lady," Cedric intoned, rousing her from her thoughts. "Your father is going to be leaving soon, and he'd appreciate it if you were to see him off."

"He's leaving now?" Catherine said incredulously. "I thought he wouldn't be departing for hours." She was suddenly devastated that she didn't have a way to communicate with Adeon. If she had known her father was going to be leaving this early, this far before sundown, they could have orchestrated an earlier escape...

"It's nearing noon, my lady. The duke wants to travel with the daylight."

"Then I'll come to the stables in a moment," she told him, and he bowed before striding away. As he vanished around the corner, she carefully nocked another arrow and drew back the string, then quickly fired towards the dummy. A surge of satisfaction sang through her veins when the arrow sank deep into its wooden chest, but then she scowled. "Damn that horrible, horrible, horrible man," she snarled before storming off. Thanks to Henry, she would probably be forced to spend hours looking for the lost arrows.

As she approached the stables, Guarin came riding out upon his enormous mahogany stallion. Several guards flanked his back, and they all looked pointedly away from the two of them as they halted their steeds. "Catherine," he called, his expression softening as he caught sight of her, and she hurried to his side. The horse's eyes widened as she drew closer, and she hurriedly stroked its flanks to soothe it. "He'll be alright," her father reassured her. "The stable boy must have just spooked him." The horse gave her hand a curious whiff once she had finished caressing his neck, and she darted back with a cry as he suddenly let out a whinnying shriek and stomped its hooves aggressively. After several moments of staring at him in confusion, she felt her face grow slack with realization. Of course the creature was terrified: she must reek of dragon. "I don't know what's gotten into him," Guarin remarked worriedly.

"It's fine," she said hastily. "I'm sure it's just fine."

"I hope so," her father replied, glancing hesitantly down at his steed. "Are you absolutely certain I can't change your mind?" he continued quietly, and Catherine's heart wrenched in her chest. "If you wanted to gather some of your belongings, we could postpone---"

"I'll be alright. I promise."

"I just know you've always enjoyed the artisans there." He offered her a kind smile, and her heart broke. "I suppose I'll just have to bring you back something." She returned his smile weakly, trying to ignore the painful throbbing in her chest.

"That's kind of you. And...well, thank you for thinking of me."

"You're my daughter. I'll always think of you," he said. "Don't ever think otherwise." His words reminded her forcibly of her letter, buried beneath several of her pillows, and she nodded vigorously to hide her conflicted expression. "I love you. Behave yourself, won't you?" he added, raising his eyebrows. "I'd rather not come home to a slew of stories..."