Treasure Ch. 07

"I won't leave any crumbs," Catherine promised, and her nurse simply rolled her eyes and turned to gather Catherine's nightdress in her arms.

"It isn't my job to pick up after you. If you find yourself covered in vermin in the morning, don't come crying to me," she said lightly. As she spoke, however, her eyes twinkled a little. Catherine smiled at her despite the impatience bubbling in her chest. "Why don't I draw you a bath? You seem troubled. The servants brought fresh oils and herbs on Tuesday, and in my many years, I've found that lavender calms the mind quite effectively."

"Actually, that sounds lovely," Catherine replied. Leda turned on her heel and strode purposefully out into the hallway, and Catherine jogged behind her to keep up.

About an hour later, Catherine was basking in a tub full of gloriously hot water, and the heady scent of lavender oil was making every part of her uncoil in the most delicious way. Leda had busied herself with folding fresh laundry near the window, and Catherine turned to gaze inquisitively at her.

"Why are you doing that?" she asked curiously. "Isn't that Elizabeth's job?"

"Elizabeth had a heart full of good intentions and a head full of nothing," Leda snorted. "Your father didn't have the heart to dismiss her, even when she ruined his boots. Put them right in the water, she did."

"Then what happened to her, if he didn't have the heart to dismiss her?" Catherine wondered, letting her head droop contentedly against the side of the tub.

"I dismissed her," Leda replied curtly, giving Catherine a stern look down the bridge of her nose. Catherine grinned and closed her eyes, sinking further into the water until the surface of it tickled her chin. A frothy island of bubbles from the soap she had scrubbed herself with drifted serenely past her surfaced knees.

"That wasn't very nice of you," Catherine said, exhaling in a long, contented sigh. "I'm sure she didn't know."

"Then she didn't have any business working with clothes, did she?" mused Leda. Catherine thinned her lips to suppress a laugh. "I heard that you went out earlier. Isn't it a bit cold for shopping?"

"I was restless. I've been cooped up in here for weeks." Catherine watched the water as she spoke, trailing a finger across the surface to disturb its stillness. "I'm a bit tired of being trapped in places," she added softly, raising her left leg from the water and rubbing a thin layer of scented oil over it. Leda made a noise of acknowledgement but didn't take her eyes off of the tunic she was folding.

"The world isn't an easy place, Catherine. It's full of lovely and terrible cages." Catherine's eyebrows rose in surprise, and she looked over at Leda in shock. The old woman was still looking determinedly down at the fabric in her arms. "Your father means well, dear. What with the oncoming wars and the threat of the dragon still looming over us, he's terrified of losing you like he lost your mother. He was a ruined man after you left."

"Everyone's acting as if I had a choice in the matter," Catherine said darkly.

"Don't be ridiculous." She draped a skirt over her arms and folded it with the deftness and grace of a skilled dancer. "They're only confused, Catherine. People are frightened of change, and you're practically a harbinger of it. Nobody has ascended that mountain before and lived to tell the tale. And you're going to prune if you stay in there a moment longer."

Catherine cocked her head in amusement. "Are you frightened of change, Leda?"

"I'm an old woman, my dear. We are frightened of nothing." She lay a folded pair of trousers on the table next to her before rising to her feet and bringing Catherine an enormous towel. "Now out with you, before you dissolve in there," she chided, brandishing the fabric threateningly. Catherine sighed and stood, stepping quickly out of the tub and wrapping herself tightly in the towel. Leda pulled a comb from nowhere and promptly attacked Catherine's wet hair, her gnarled fingers twisting and pleating it into a tight braid.

"You don't need to--" Catherine began, holding up a hesitant hand, but Leda slapped it away.

"You haven't let me braid your hair in nearly three years," she said, and there was gentleness in her tone. "Besides, it will tangle if you let it be. Your hair has a mind of its own." Catherine smiled a little and hid a wince as the comb struck her ear. She felt like she was a little girl again; being poked with pins and thrust into itchy garments and having her ears combed relentlessly while Leda wrestled her locks into submission. Within seconds, however, she had pleated her hair into a sleek, damp braid, and Catherine was allowed to move again. As she turned, her nurse pressed her nightdress into her hands and bustled off, gathering the folded clothes and making her way to the exit.

"Good night, Leda," she called, shivering a little as the cool air played over her damp skin. "And...well...thank you."

"Try to get some sleep, Catherine. I can tell when you aren't rested," Leda replied, and then she rounded the corner and left Catherine alone in the bathing chamber. She leisurely wriggled into her nightdress, wondering absentmindedly if Leda would be able to detect her sleeplessness the next morning as she tied up the ribbons.

Eugene was stalking through the hallway as she made her way back to her bedroom, and she kept her head held high as she passed him and tried not to look as embarrassed as she felt that he had caught her in her lacy, ribbony white nightgown. It certainly covered everything that it needed to and more, but something about wearing it made her feel half-dressed. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice, or even acknowledge her at all, and they went their own ways without speaking to one another. She hoped that it wouldn't be him patrolling the hall outside her door tonight. If there was ever anyone who would barge into her room at the tiniest sound, it was Eugene.

Once she had closed and bolted the wooden doors to her room, she flopped onto her bed with a sigh, stretching her arms over her head and staring at the ceiling. Earlier, she had been afraid that she would fall asleep waiting for Adeon, but now, she realized that those worries were completely unwarranted. Despite the spell that the lavender had cast over her, her eyes were wide and restless and her mind was racing. The sun had vanished from the sky, but she knew she still had a long wait ahead of her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Her eyes grew as large as saucers in her face, and she slowly turned her stare towards the window at the other end of the room. There was a pale face gazing back at her from the gloom outside, and she put a hand to her mouth as the figure's eyebrows raised expectantly.

In a fraction of a second, she had crossed the room and thrown open the window. Adeon was crouched on the sill, his long fingers gripping the bricks around it for balance, and she quickly moved out of the way as he ducked through the opening and dropped onto the floor in front of her. His movements were quiet and graceful like a cat's, and he straightened up slowly to reward her with an excited grin.

"What are you doing here?" Catherine hissed, shutting the window quietly behind him. "It can't possibly be midnight--" She was cut off as he grabbed her hips and jerked her towards him, his draconian eyes sparkling with mischief. "Adeon, everyone is still awake," she whispered pleadingly. "You can't be here right--no, wait, stop that." His fingers had crawled up her torso, pulling at the laces that criss-crossed up the front of it. "Stop that," she repeated weakly, slapping his hands away. "Someone might hear..."

"Look at you, all wrapped up in ribbons for me like a present," he crooned, and she inhaled sharply as he pressed the length of her body against his. "They just beg to be untied," he finished in a delighted whisper, bringing his face very close to hers.

"Well, you can't," she whispered. "There are guards everywhere. If they hear anything, they'll barge in and try to kill you."

"You really do worry too much." She made a face at him, but he pulled away with a bit of reluctance and gazed at his surroundings. "Your room is delightful," he said cheerfully, beaming at her. "Would you care to show me around?" With a little sigh, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and gathered one of his hands in hers.

"Right this way," she said. He bowed politely and followed her as she drew him forward. "This is my closet. It's filled with dresses and slippers and ridiculous hats that won't stay on my head," she told him solemnly as they stopped in front of a tall, wooden wardrobe. He put a finger to his lips and nodded appraisingly, as if she was giving him a tour of an art gallery instead of introducing him to her furniture.

"I see," he said in a grave voice, and she quirked her lips to keep them from splitting into a silly grin.

"And this, over here," she continued, pulling him towards a row of shelves on the wall across from it. "This is my bookshelf, and sometimes I also put little trinkets on it."

"Yes, yes, little trinkets," he agreed, inclining his head thoughtfully. Giddy with their nonsense, she dragged him behind her towards her vanity.

"This is my vanity table," she told him, indicating to it grandly with a wave of her hand. "I stare at myself in the mirror here every morning and brush my hair. There's powder for my face, too."

"Fascinating," he murmured, squinting at the contraptions on the table with feigned captivation.

"My nightstand," she added, pulling him towards it. "I put candles here if I want to read at night."

"I appreciate the placement of pie on the corner," he observed seriously, nodding down at the lonely pastry plate sitting on the polished wood. "A bold move, but I think it pays off."

"I'm so glad," Catherine said, no longer trying to hide the ridiculous smile that was pulling almost painfully at the corners of her mouth. "And this--this is my bed. I sit in it, sleep in it, and huddle in it when I'm cold."

"Lovely, lovely," he replied, folding his arms and scanning it carefully. "But is it soft?"

"Oh, you'll find that it's very soft," she agreed, gesturing towards it invitingly. "You're welcome to see for yourself." He leaned backwards and dropped into the mass of woolly blankets and squashy pillows, the careful look of dignity never leaving his face. He stared pensively at the ceiling, steepling his hands on his chest in thought.

"Very soft, indeed," he finally said after several moments of deep consideration. He looked so out of place in her bedroom, this impossibly tall man with pallid skin and reptilian eyes and all of that white hair.

"Does it pass muster?" she asked hopefully, lowering herself to sit next to him. He let his lips twitch into a smile.

"You've convinced me. It's simply the best bedroom I've ever seen," he told her.

"Oh, good," she said, and then she knelt forward to retrieve the slice of pie. "Here, this is for you. I made it this afternoon," she explained, offering it to him. He sat up and took it, staring at it with a look of pure glee.

"One of your pies? Your apple pies?" he asked, smiling so widely that she was worried his lips might split at the corners.

"Yes. I thought you might want to try it," she muttered, looking shyly down at the floor and feeling a scalding heat radiating from her face. When she looked back up again, he was holding the pastry in his fingers and chewing slowly, and half of it seemed to have vanished. Flakes of crust were stuck to his mouth and falling all over her blankets, and his too-long tongue slipped out from his lips to lap up the crumbs and smears of filling from the corners of his mouth.

"I love it," he half-growled as he descended eagerly upon the remaining portion of pie, his eyes closing blissfully when the crust yielded to his sharp teeth. "Is there more?" he asked thickly, pausing mid-chew to suck the sugar off his fingertips. She stared at him with wide, stunned eyes the size of planets.

"Maybe I can fetch some from the kitchens later," she whispered. Despite his tragic lack of table manners, however, she found herself utterly charmed by his enthusiasm, as well as the decidedly dragon-y way he seemed to consume all of his food.

"Fantastic," he purred, snaking his tongue into the web between his thumb and index finger to catch a stray drop of apple filling. She looked down a little mournfully at the flakes that littered her blankets, and he followed her gaze inquisitively. "Sorry," he said, plucking a few crumbs off her bed and popping them into his mouth.

"If I knew dragons liked pie so much, I would have brought you the whole thing," she teased, and he grinned at her while he flopped back onto the blankets.

"Tell me how you've been," he said softly, and she fell down onto the bed next to him. "And why you smell so delectable," he continued, burying his face in her shoulder and inhaling richly. She turned her head and kissed the tip of his nose, an utterly obscene amount of happiness fluttering in her belly and threatening to rip out of her stomach.

"I took a bath with lavender earlier, which might explain the smell." She gathered one of his hands in hers and played with his fingers, bringing them to her mouth to kiss each tip and tasting sugar. "It's been a bit uneventful, being back here. At least...it has recently. The first week, the king and all of his knights kept inviting me to the castle so they could ask all about you. How I escaped, where you planned on going, if you and Roane were organizing a dragon army..."

"A dragon army," he snorted.

"They're all incredibly paranoid about it." She looked sadly down at his fingers, her lips pursing. "King Ulric is offering a man's weight in gold for dragon's hearts."

"And I wonder where he might have found so much gold," Adeon murmured, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Catherine winced. She had watched the procession of men from her front door, each pair of them carrying a chest of gold and silver between them. It had gone on for days after her return, and villagers had swarmed around the main road, hoping that some of it might slosh over like an overfilled goblet. There were familiar objects like the suit of armor and the plumed helmet, unfamiliar objects like an enormous silver throne that required four men to transport it, and one day, Catherine thought that she saw the golden manacles of King Irithen glittering out from a sea of jewelry. She wondered if the king knew of their significance.

"Oh, Adeon," she said, clutching his hand. "I'm so sorry. Did they..." She cringed a little. "Did they take everything...?"

"I saved a few trinkets. Some gold, your cloak, the crown, a few jewels I had grown fond of. The rest is theirs now, I suppose." He let out a rattling sigh and leaned his head against her shoulder, staring at the ceiling with a pained look. "I'm sure they're all quite pleased with themselves."

"I thought you might have been angrier," Catherine admitted. "When they took all of your things."

"Oh, I was utterly furious." He turned his gaze to her, and his eyes burned. "But I was far more concerned about the other treasure they took from me," he said softly.

"I've been worried about you, too." She rolled over to face him, and he did the same. He seemed to light up as she brushed her nose against his. "Where did you go?"

"I found refuge near the outskirts of the forest. There were whispers there of humans, but I haven't seen any. I haven't run into any more rabbits either, fortunately," he added, and she smiled. "There are guards everywhere here," he continued, and his gaze seemed to travel past her and focus on nothing. "The gates close at dusk, and there are men stationed all along the walls with ballistas and the like. Things that wound large adversaries. Things that shoot down flying creatures."

"Things that might kill a dragon," Catherine finished softly.

He inclined his head slowly. "I believe they're waiting for me to return. It's going to be...difficult for me to see you with any sort of frequency. I can't arouse suspicion." She reached up to tangle her fingers in his, and he fixed her with a doleful stare.

"The past two weeks have been something out of a nightmare," she whispered to him, giving his hand a squeeze. "It hurts when you aren't with me, Adeon. Even though I'm home, I feel lonely."

"Aren't you happy here?" he asked grimly, and he seemed to be trying hard to suppress the darkness in his voice.

"I thought I would be. My father needs me, and there are people here who have love for me. It seemed...wrong to just abandon them, especially in such dark times." Adeon pulled his hand out of hers and reached up to fan his fingers across her cheek, and she closed her eyes.

"Those seem more like obligations," she heard him say, and when she opened her eyes, he looked faintly annoyed. "I don't think this was what you wanted. You were only concerned with pleasing everyone else. And it didn't even work," he added, his voice bright with sarcastic cheer. "Take me, for example. I'm rather devastated." Guilt pricked at her mercilessly, and felt herself sink deep into a sticky pit of self-hatred.

"I'm so sorry." She bowed her head, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. "I love you, and I gave your happiness so little thought out of...well, I suppose a certain amount of loyalty to humankind," she admitted with a weak laugh. Her throat constricted and she swallowed hard to steady her voice. "But it isn't as if humankind has done me any favors. It should have been you I worried for," she concluded miserably. To her horror, her vision began to swim with hot, burning tears.

"That isn't what I meant," he urged, grasping her chin firmly in his fingers and tilting her face towards his. She blinked rapidly as she met his gaze, trying to vanquish her tears. "I don't want to be your obligation, Catherine," he continued softly. "I want to be your choice." She stared woefully up at him for a few seconds, but then more tears stung at her eyes and she looked away.

"You're right," she said hurriedly, reaching up to rub her eyes vigorously with her sleeve. "Of course you're right. Gods, you must be so angry..."

"Not angry, necessarily," he mused. "Endlessly frustrated, but not angry."

"But I didn't do anything right. And now the whole world is falling apart."

"The world is falling apart regardless of what we've done, darling. And I'm sure it will continue to do so no matter what we do next."

She smiled in a bleak sort of way. "At least I get to watch it with you," she offered quietly. He grinned, and she was somewhat relieved to feel the playfulness return to their conversation.

"It will be a lovely apocalypse, I'm sure." She wriggled forward and pressed her lips hard against his, and Adeon let out a soft little noise around her mouth that made her breath catch, pressing her up against his chest. Her eyes were still stiff and slightly raw from tears, but kissing Adeon had a way of making the whole world not matter.

"I missed kissing you," she sighed after drawing away. His fingers trailed down the length of her side.

"Did you?" he murmured, regarding her lazily through half-lidded eyes.

"Of course. And, well...you're really good at it," she admitted.

"Am I?" His hand gripped her waist and pressed the length of her body against his torso. She laughed, and he brought his face so close to hers that she began to go cross-eyed. "Tell me more," he whispered, impish and excited.

"I missed the way you hold me, too," she said brazenly, staring determinedly back at him. "It always makes me feel safe." He wound his arms around her, tensing and loosening his muscles in a slow squeeze. "And...and those things you do to my neck sometimes," she added after a moment, feeling her face heat up. He lowered his face fractions of an inch away from her throat and paused, and she squinted her eyes shut in anticipation.