They ate, but conversation was desultory. He tried a couple of times to get her chatting about her work as an alchemist, but she curled up on the cot and pretended to read one of the magazines that had been delivered with the breakfast.
Gregory thought some more, found no solution, and instead paced the perimeter of the cell looking for possible means of escape. He found none other than the very solid door.
“I don’t suppose you would care to cast the spell you used in order to get out of the bathroom in Slugs- Upon-Snails?” he inquired politely at one point.
“I’ve told you,” she answered without looking up from the magazine. “The name of that little town is Malwod-Upon-Ooze, and no, I can’t. I don’t have the spell with me.”
“You don’t remember it?” He was momentarily surprised by that thought. He’d assumed she was well versed in the art of magic, given her mothers’ backgrounds.
She shot him a quick look. “No. I’m really bad at magic, so my mothers gave up trying to teach me. I can cast simple spells, but only if I have them written out in front of me.”
“Blast,” he said.
She did not reply. He continued to pace, very aware of her warm presence, while the scent of her made him think of all sorts of ways he’d give her pleasure when she finally admitted their mutual attraction.
It was about two hours later that the captain of the guard opened the door again. “Come on—’is lordship wants to see you both.”
“The king?” Gregory asked, holding out a hand for Gwen.
She spurned his hand and strode past him through the door, her head held high.
“Aye. There’s been a letter about you two, there ’as.”
“What did the letter say?” he asked politely as they climbed the stairs to the ground floor. Immediately, three cats that had been curled up together on a bench stood, stretched, and jumped down to follow them.
“No clue. I’m not privy to messages from the front.”
Gwen stumbled. He grabbed her, but he needn’t have worried that she would fall—judging by the look of concern that suddenly appeared in her eyes, she had something on her mind.
“What is it?” he asked softly as they followed after the guard as he led the way out the great hall to the courtyard.
Gwen slid a glance at him, looking away quickly, but he could tell by the way she bit her lower lip that she was distressed.
He wanted to bite her lower lip. That thought wafted through his mind and refused to be ousted. He reminded himself that he was an honorable man, a man who cherished women and did not view them as mere playthings. Gwen especially deserved to be treated with respect and care, and if she was worried about something, now was not the time to be thinking about just how wonderful it would be to bite that lush little pink lip. Or to taste her mouth again. And certainly not what the feel of her tongue touching his did to his various and sundry lower parts.
He
“You know that if I can help you in any way, I will,” he said, pulling her back so they were out of Al’s hearing.
“It’s . . . it’s just that the letter is probably from Douglas.”
“I have no doubt that it is. Why are you so concerned? The worst he can tell the king is that we were sent here because we are prisoners, and we’ve already acquired that status.”
“You don’t know these people,” she said with a little jerk of her hand in his. He wondered briefly how her hand had come to be there, and then decided that he liked it. His fingers tightened in support.
“You don’t either.”
“I’ve been here longer than you.”
“By about twelve hours.”
She made a disgusted noise. “That’s long enough to know that they aren’t normal.”
“Well, this
She waved that away with her free hand. “This goes beyond that. I’d expect some quirky characters to be hanging around, but these guys are just downright strange. Take that Ethan guy. He had dogs everywhere at his camp. And this place is overrun with cats. Not to mention the fact that the king has a Velociphant, whatever that turns out to be. Who do you know who has a million cats and a Velociphant?”
“You have a point.”
Her thumb stroked absently over the back of his hand. Inexplicably, the touch made his groin tighten.
“I’m telling you, this isn’t going to be good news.”
He released her hand, sliding his arm around her to pull her up to his side. She shot him a startled look, but didn’t object when he said, “Then we’ll face it together. I won’t let anyone harm you, Gwen. Have no fear of that.”
He felt brave, and strong, and very much like a warrior of old, protecting his woman from a herd of marauding Vikings. Or Goths. Or whoever it was who stormed castles and caused men like him to defend women like Gwen. History had never been his strong point.
Al led them through various outbuildings to a lower section that was surrounded by thick walls. Gregory glanced back and was only moderately surprised to note that the main structure was, indeed, a castle. One with tall pointy bits, and parapets, and other castle-ish details that he couldn’t remember the names of, assuming there had been a time when he knew them. As they emerged from between two small sheds, Gregory stopped, Gwen at his side, both of them stupefied by the vision that lay before them.
“I take it
“I would assume so. It looks mechanical, and Aaron said he needed someone with engineering experience.”
“Come along, come along. ’is lordship doesn’t ’ave much patience when things are going awry with ’is contraption.”
They moved forward again at the guard’s urging, Gregory examining the large structure that squatted like a mechanical behemoth. Scaffolding surrounded it on one side, with a half dozen men crawling all over it. Three wooden tables had been set up nearby it, both littered with papers that appeared to be held down by a couple of cats curled up with paws tucked under their fronts. At one table, the king of the Underworld stood with another man, both of them consulting what appeared to be plans for the machine. Beyond them, about twenty feet away, a woman clad in an orange blazer and white walking shorts stood talking to a group of about ten people.
“—famed Velociphant,” the woman was saying as they passed her. “The king intends on using it to mow down an uprising of trees and shrubs. You will notice that in lieu of teeth, it has a set of spinning blades reminiscent of a large lawn mower. Oh, goodness, we are in luck today. Just arriving on the scene to plead for their lives are two prisoners. A little bird told me that they were getting up to some pretty racy hijinks last night as seen by our After-Hours Tour (five pounds per person, old-age pensioners two pounds fifty). Now, if you’ll come this way, we’ll have a quick peek in at the foundry to see where the Velociphant’s parts are created, and then be on our way to the gift shop, where you can buy not only a miniature reproduction of the Velociphant but also a life-sized stand-up of Lord Aaron in traditional Underworld garb. Follow me!”
“This is really the strangest place I’ve ever been in,” Gwen said in a whisper.
“It’s definitely not what one thinks of as an afterlife.”
The tour moved off with only a few people snapping photos of Gwen and Gregory. Aaron and his buddy both ignored them. A cat was draped along the former’s shoulders, its tail flicking gently as the king raised an arm and gestured toward the machine.
“M’lord, I’ve brought the prisoners what you requested.” Al made a bow, with a little flourish toward Gregory and Gwen.
“Eh? Oh, it’s you two again.” Aaron turned his head, found himself staring up the nose of the cat, and with an annoyed
“I would object to being referred to as ‘the other one,’ but given my options, I’ll settle for it,” Gwen said, moving a few steps away from Gregory.
Al murmured something about some tanning to be done and left them.
