Fic: Haven (1/2)
Title: Haven
Author: miera
Rating: PG
Pairing: gen
Summary: A storm, an attack and a rescue alter young Princess Elizabeth's perceptions irrevocably. Set two years prior to Ascension of the Queen.
Notes: Again, blame this one all on me. Though, other than a blink-and-miss-it bit of UST, there's nothing here to get in a twist over. :)
Princess Elizabeth allowed her cloak to fall open a little more, breathing deep the salty air as she walked to the stables. The winter had been long and dark and had refused to relinquish its hold on Atalan until very late. The lingering months of spring had seen heavy rains and great winds that had lashed the trees, churning the blue waters surrounding Atlantis to gray and white.
In these past weeks, though, warm weather had finally arrived. The sun shone brightly through the days, coaxing green shoots from the earth and the trees. This morning was not so bright, it was true, as dark clouds already gathered on the western horizon. The sun had not yet disappeared, though, and Elizabeth had no intention of wasting her morning, especially since the thin bridge of land that connected the sanctuary of Atlantis with the mainland was safe to travel. When the storms had receded several weeks ago, she had insisted on taking her daily ride across the bridge and into the forests along the shore. Now she found herself restless and irritable if she was not able to fly across the thin isthmus, water on either side and the ocean breeze slapping in her face.
The sense of an approaching storm only heightened her desire for swift motion.
Sir Marshall Sumner was in the stables, observing as Lorne and Bates prepared the guard to accompany her. The older man's disapproval was palpable, though Elizabeth thought wryly that it would be difficult for a stranger to recognize the difference between his usual expression and this one. "Captain," she nodded in greeting. "How is your arm this morning?"
Sumner ordinarily went with her everywhere, but three days ago it had rained and on Elizabeth's last morning ride, his horse had struck a loose patch of ground and thrown him in attempting to stay upright. Dr. Beckett had immobilized the broken arm and done his best to alleviate the pain, but it would be some weeks before the captain of her guard was able to ride again.
The captain grunted at her in response to her teasing and fixed his eyes on the guardsmen. "You know what will befall you if the princess returns with the slightest hair out of place."
The men nodded dutifully, but Elizabeth laughed. The wind blowing her hair out of place was exactly what she wanted.
***
Taking pity on Lorne and Bates, who were inordinately nervous in the absence of Sumner, Elizabeth slowed her horse down once they reached the mainland. Instead of heading into the trees she took the easy road near the shoreline at a gentle pace.
The long, stormy winter had provided her ample opportunity to think about her future. Simon's abrupt death on their wedding day and her subsequent illness had changed her perspective irrevocably. Lord George had pushed for her marriage to protect her life and her claim to the throne, and she was grateful for his efforts. Still, she wondered if her guardian understood what the marriage would have meant for her.
Simon would have become her whole world. He had been so much older than she that she would have relied on his judgment almost exclusively. She trusted Lord George and valued his wisdom, but Simon would not have been a father-figure, grooming her now that he might step aside when she ascended to the throne.
In her memory, the wedding felt like a particularly vivid dream. What would her life have been on this spring morning had Simon not been killed? She most likely would have been with child, assuming that her own bloodlines' weakness had not prevented it.
She frowned at the thought. Some small part of her that she buried deep within felt a lingering sense of relief that she had not had to share her bed with Simon. He had not been unpleasant to look at, but the large difference in their ages had left her feeling faintly nauseated every time the thought of the wedding night had occurred to her. Laura, in her usual manner, had said much on the subject during the course of the winter months. It was hopeless, she declared, to find any happiness in marriage if the woman felt absolutely no desire for her husband. Without some sort of mutual attraction, they could not survive living side by side for the rest of their lives.
Laura had then insisted she would not marry any man unless he could have enticed her into bed without a wedding ring. Elizabeth had laughed, but Kate had blushed and said nothing. Kate was slightly older than Elizabeth, and being a trusted servant of the future queen only added to the beautiful young lady's appeal to the men of the court. But it was difficult to envision any of them as staid, settled wives and mothers yet.
Kate and Laura, of course, were unburdened in their choice of husband by the approval or disapproval of the entire college of lords and the unofficial opinions of the entire nobility of Atalan. Not to mention that any suitor of theirs would not need to fear for his life just by courting them.
Elizabeth urged her horse to a slightly faster speed. Carson Beckett and Hermoid had reluctantly told her the details of the poison that had been used to kill Simon, over Lord George and Daniel's objections. They had no way of knowing who had arranged for the poison that had laced the food for the wedding party. Sir Marshall had quietly purged the household staff during the winter months, but no evidence had linked the act with any particular person.
She knew full well that the men who protected her believed Lord Robert Kinsey, the current regent, was behind the assassination attempt. Elizabeth had no difficulty believing Lord Robert would be driven to desperate measures to maintain control of Atalan, but the lack of proof worried her.
In the meantime, Elizabeth's guilt over Simon's death made her vow not to willingly endanger another man, no matter how she might feel for him. She would not marry until after she reached the throne. There would always be dangers for her and for the people around her, but she had too much to do for now. She was not ready to bear a child. She had not been ready to be a wife. She was still not ready to be the queen, and her time was running short.
The one bright spot in the winter months had been Carson Beckett. The young physician was a man of boundless energy. He shuttled from Atlantis to the Asgard sanctuary as often as the weather permitted. It had become customary for Carson to dine with her, Lord George, Daniel, Laura and Kate in the evenings he was in the palace. Daniel appeared to like the younger man a great deal and they often got lost in discussions about ideas that flew far over Elizabeth's head. Laura and Kate seemed to have no objections to staring at Carson for an hour every day either. Laura flirted boldly with the doctor, to his seeming consternation. Elizabeth had noted that Kate spent a great deal of time conversing with the handsome young doctor as well, though their conversations ran to more serious subjects.
But to Elizabeth, Carson Beckett was something else. She felt a fondness for him, something akin to her feelings for Lorne, Bates and some of the other guardsmen, but it was difficult to feel genuinely close to men whose purpose in life was to stand between her and any danger that presented itself.
Carson, she realized, was a friend. Though he was never disrespectful of the difference in their stations in life, when he spoke to her, it was not as a princess or a future ruler, but simply as another person. Elizabeth had been surrounded by people her whole life and yet had no idea how starved she was for that kind of companionship. Listening to Carson talk about his homeland, his travels and his work, had felt like opening a window into a previously unknown world.
During the winter she had spent countless hours in the great library of Atlantis, reading books on subjects she had never thought to pursue before, such as medicine and histories of scientific discoveries. She had been thoroughly schooled in history, geography, literature, writing, the basic sciences and art. Her guardians had considered her education complete, but Elizabeth knew better now. For all their desire to shield her, she knew that Atalan was not faring well. There was much danger, and much work to be done to restore the realm from the damages wrought during her father's time. The queen faced with that task could not simply be adequately prepared.
She paused her horse at the customary point, where the shore road curved along a promontory. To her right in the distance were the spires of the city, with the center tower of the palace looking small from here. To the left the shoreline stretched, trees edging close to the rolling blue waves. And before her was open water.
Elizabeth allowed the strong breeze to blow against her face, not caring that it turned her cheeks pink and her lips chapped. She drew strength from the wind, and with her resolutions firmly in place, turned her horse onto the road once more. She followed the trail into the trees and back towards Atlantis, it being shorter than the shore path.
***
The rest of the guard found his tendency for alarm humorous, but Bates trusted his own instincts. They had kept him alive so far and placed him second in command to the captain of the royal guard. So when his stomach began to clench nervously at the sudden silence as they rode through the woods, he reached for his sword immediately.
Arrows shot out of the leaf-covered brush to their left. He roared out commands as there were corresponding yells from both sides. There was a clattering of armor, the sound of hooves, and several men - were they even men? - appeared suddenly out of the trees.
Three horses shot away up the road as Bates swung his sword into the chest of the nearest man and the fight began.
***
Elizabeth clung to the reins, guiding her horse at a break-neck pace down the road on pure instinct. There was no time to think. Bates had drawn his sword, yelling, and in the confusion she caught a glimpse of something coming out of the bushes. Then Lorne had slapped her horse with his own reins and the two of them had raced off away from the ensuing battle. Young Markham went before them, weapon drawn. The men appeared to have arranged this response in advance. Elizabeth rather wished they had seen fit to explain it to her.
Now she ducked low over the horse's neck and just hung on as they surged down the twisting road through the forest. The sun had been swallowed by swiftly-moving clouds, creating shadows in the trees that unnerved her.
No one was behind them.
Before she could consider the implications, an obstacle appeared in the path as they rounded a bend and her horse swerved wildly to avoid colliding with Markham's. The animal lost its footing and abruptly she was falling sideways. With little time to react, Elizabeth threw herself outward, just barely gaining enough distance that her leg was not crushed.
She landed in the dirt, shredding skin from her palms. Markham was still fighting to control his horse, but Lorne was also unseated, falling to the ground not far from Elizabeth.
The fall saved Lorne's life. Elizabeth watched in frozen horror as a small dagger flew from some hidden place and buried itself in Markham's chest. Sheer shock was the only thing that prevented her from screaming.
Three large men appeared from the trees, wearing strange masks and hardened leather clothing over their upper bodies. The broken wagon across the road had been a ruse, she realized belatedly. They were trapped.
Lorne surged forward, his sword already in motion. Even as he twisted to get closer to Elizabeth, he cut into the legs of the nearest man, who let out a piercing shriek. She scrambled in Lorne's direction and then her heart seized as she felt an arm wrap around her, pinning her against a strange body. Her legs flailed, attempting to bring her feet into contact with a knee or a shin.
Lorne was on his feet now, roaring in anger and fighting with a man nearly half-again as tall as he. The man carried some sort of heavy axe, but Lorne's sword was longer and deadlier. The guardsman cut at his attacker repeatedly. Even as Elizabeth struggled, she watched Lorne spin and sever the man's arm.
The howls of pain and the sight of the gushing blood snapped something within Elizabeth. She bit down on the arm of the man attempting to drag her into the trees. He shook her but she could not have forced her own jaw open had she desired to. Her teeth continued to sink mercilessly into flesh until the man released her, so abruptly that she staggered and fell to the ground.
Lorne's defeat of the one man had cost him several blows, including a cut on his head. Half-blinded, he stumbled too close to the first man, who still held his sword. The blade plunged into Lorne's side.
Elizabeth found her voice at last. She screamed as she watched Lorne fall.
She heard movement behind her and turned to see the final attacker advancing on her, blood flowing from his arm from where she had bitten him. Swallowing against the strange taste in her mouth, she attempted to flee but her gown hindered her movements across the rough ground and she stumbled.
A soft sound heralded the dagger's flight as it struck her attacker in the stomach. He stood still for a moment before sinking to the ground. Elizabeth looked wildly about. Markham, his face pale, had managed to pull himself upright, remove the dagger from his own wound and throw it with fatal accuracy.
The man who had stabbed Lorne was hauling himself to his feet. Blood ran down his legs from his initial wound and he shot a malevolent glare towards Elizabeth.
She locked eyes with Markham momentarily. "Run," he whispered, and then fell forward.
Elizabeth fled into the woods as the rain began to fall. Her pursuer bellowed in fury and gave chase.
***
The battle was more brutal than Bates could have anticipated. The men who ambushed them - they were men, only clad in garments intended to make them seem less than human - had fought to their dying breath. The guardsmen had unmasked their last attacker now, and Stackhouse and Carpazin, surging with blood lust from the fight, toyed with him, circling their prey as the man swayed, bleeding everywhere.
Bates surveyed the trampled greenery and red mud. Four of his men lay on the ground, and at least three would not rise again. A full score of assailants also lay cleaved and broken, and yet this last man still stood?
His stomach twisted again and Bates shouted, "Stop!" a bare heartbeat before Stackhouse struck the killing blow.
"Hold him," he ordered, swinging himself onto his horse again and urging the animal to a frantic pace down the road. He had not far to go.
Lorne reached for him even as Bates leapt from his horse, his eyes swiftly taking in the barrier across the road, the two masked men and Markham's too-still form. Lorne grasped his arm, blood appearing over his lips, thinning as the rain washed it away. But his eyes burned and his hand on Bates' arm was still strong.
"He's after the princess," Lorne gritted out.
***
Had her foot not caught, sending her tumbling to the earth, Elizabeth did not know whether she would have ceased running until she reached the far edge of the world.
She did trip, falling onto already bruised knees. The impact jarred her from skull to feet, and her stomach rolled violently. Unable to hold it back, she turned her head as the bile rose in her throat. Images of blood, of Markham's face, of the sword piercing Lorne's body, flashed through her mind and aggravated the sickness until she was retching feebly.
When it ended, her body sank into the muddy ground, her head on her arm, tears running down her face.
More suffering. More death. Always. There seemed to be no escape for her.
Lying there, shaking and soaked and chilled to her marrow, Elizabeth gradually became aware of the tell-tale noise of heavy feet in the brush over the rain. The sound was distant, but even as her heart pounded in her ears, she knew it was coming closer.
She did not know from where she gathered the strength, but her body rose into a huddled crouch. She pushed the thoughts of Markham and Lorne from her mind and glanced about. If only she had some notion of where she was! They had been riding east when the ambush had struck, back towards the palace.
She spotted moss growing along a tree stump. She was not sure what direction she had gone when she fled from the scene of the attack, but to turn east would likely lead her back into the trap she was attempting to escape. If she headed west, she might eventually find the coastal road, and help.
Spring days were short, and though she could not gauge the position of the sun, it was growing rapidly darker. Elizabeth began to move as quietly as she could, holding her torn and filthy skirts gathered back to stifle their rustling. When news of the ambush reached the city, she had no doubt Sir Marshall would rouse every man available to search for her. But there was much ground to cover, and they would have no more idea of her location than she did. And the storm was growing steadily worse, with winds more like a winter gale than a gentle spring rain.
She was not likely to be rescued today. The thought struck her like a physical blow, but she clenched her teeth into her own mouth. She could not afford to be sick again.
Nightfall would be her ally. Though she would no longer be able to run, the man pursuing her would no longer be able to search for her either. She needed to find shelter, and pray that he did not stumble upon her before darkness came.
***
The duke of Langford had known Sir Marshall Sumner the entirety of his life. The captain of the guard had been in the king's service when Daniel had still been a small boy. When Daniel's uncle had died, Sumner's loyalty transferred to Elizabeth, the queen-elect. The old king's final charge to his loyal servant had been Elizabeth's safety - safety which had been threatened in more ways than one in the intervening eight years.
Yet never had Daniel seen Captain Sumner truly enraged until this moment. His jaw was clenched while the rain streaked down his weathered face.
Somewhere deep underneath his own terror and fury, Daniel waited for the captain to unleash his formidable temper on young Bates, who stood before them covered in dirt and blood as they surveyed the scene of the attack.
But Sumner had not reached his position by indulging his personal feelings.
"You will take the entire detachment of the guard and all the soldiers that can be mustered from Atlantis out into these woods, Bates, and you will not sleep, eat or piss until Princess Elizabeth is safely back in the palace. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir," Bates answered immediately. Recriminations would have to wait until a more appropriate time. The young man turned and started bellowing orders of his own to the rest of the guardsmen who were waiting in the lane.
Two of the guards towered over the one would-be attacker still alive. Daniel had sufficient experience with war to know the man was not long for this world. His breaths rattled in his chest and his face was blue as the paint on his arms and clothing.
Sumner unsheathed a small knife from his belt. Even with one arm still in a sling, he radiated menace as he stalked towards the man. Sumner placed the tip of the blade over the man's heart.
"Tell me why, and I will end your suffering," he said, his voice dead of emotion.
The prisoner's breathing hitched and Daniel thought he was attempting to laugh. "... Fetch," the man gasped out the words haltingly. "A... fine... price... for her."
The final word slurred and the man's eyes rolled back as he died.
Sumner turned away in disgust. The guards holding the body dropped it into the mud.
"Ransom?" Daniel asked Sumner as they walked towards their horses. He had to raise his voice to be heard above the wind. A wagon creaked along the road, arriving to take the critically injured guards, including Lorne, back to Atlantis.
"Or worse," Sumner said curtly. "The princess has been taking morning rides regularly for some weeks. Enough for an observer to note a pattern." Daniel recognized that the captain was silently berating himself for his own carelessness.
Unfortunately, Daniel had little energy within him to offer comfort. Elizabeth was missing, with heaven only knew how many of these villains chasing her. She was alone, possibly hurt and lost. If they could not find her swiftly...
But there was one tiny source of hope. "They'll want her alive, then?" he asked.
"Alive-" Sumner stopped speaking abruptly.
Daniel knew full well what Sumner had been about to say, and he was grateful that the other man did not give voice to the fear that was now nearly a living thing inside of him.
***
Elizabeth had long loved the soothing sound of waves breaking on the shore. Of course, she had always appreciated the noise while safely within the walls of Atlantis, where there were soft beds and warm blankets, hot food and clean water at hand. At the moment, she was searching vainly for some hiding place as the shadows deepened around her. She was within hearing distance of the ocean surf, which unfortunately meant the land was very flat, providing few spaces in which to conceal a person.
She could no longer hear thrashing footsteps in the distance. There was only the wind and rain in her ears. The absence of the sounds of pursuit only served to augment her fear. Her body shook from the chill in the air and her thoroughly soaked clothing.
Elizabeth looked up in frustration, wishing fervently for Laura's ability to climb about on trees and walls.
Before she could decide whether to attempt the maneuver, a branch snapped behind her. She whirled around and found herself face to face with her pursuer.
The man looked almost mad. His eyes burned, red-rimmed and heavy, and he lurched unevenly. Elizabeth saw that his trousers were soaked with blood. The only thing about him that remained steady was his sword, which was held out and pointed straight at her.
They stood face to face for a moment. Elizabeth's heart was racing, her mind spinning frantically. She held her own dagger - she had not had the presence of mind earlier to draw it but it had been clutched in her hand the entire afternoon. Dimly she wondered if she possessed the strength to attempt to fight him off. With his injuries, his skills would be compromised-
"Down!" she heard a voice yell. A voice that sounded far too feminine to have come from her attacker.
Elizabeth dropped to the ground just in time to avoid being hit by the heavy rock sailing through the air. Her assailant didn't appear to sense the impending attack, for the rock struck the man in the face with a sickening crunch and he staggered backwards.
A woman darted out of the shadows and flashed past Elizabeth. She held two heavy sticks and she knocked the sword from the man's hands, then swept his knees from under him. In a heartbeat, she was kneeling, one stick pressed across the man's throat.
"Where are the rest?" the woman growled.
He reached for the stick, but both his hands together could not move it.
"Where is the rest of your raiding party? Are they already at the village?"
"What?" the man gasped out.
For the first time, the woman faltered slightly. "Where is your ship?" she demanded.
She had pulled the heavy stick away but the man began to gag even harder and Elizabeth, swaying back to her feet, saw blood bubbling on his lips. "No ship," he choked out even as his face turned blue. "Horses."
He blindly reached out toward the woman, who stepped backwards.
The two of them watched impassively as he strangled and died.
Elizabeth startled when a warm hand touched her arm. She turned and looked into the face of her rescuer. She was young, not far from Elizabeth's own age, with darker skin, lighter hair and a face of such stark beauty it reminded Elizabeth of a hawk. That was all the detail Elizabeth was able to take in before the world began to spin. She managed to whisper one question: "Where am I?"
"You are in Athos, my lady. I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Lord Tagan."
Everything about Elizabeth went black.
***
Daniel wished pointlessly that Jack would appear by some kind of magic. Logically he knew his old friend could do no more to locate Elizabeth than Sumner and the combined forces of the royal guard and the infantry stationed in Atlantis, but Jack also had a habit of divining solutions to otherwise insurmountable problems.
Also Jack could always be useful as a sparring partner when Daniel was angry.
Instead, Daniel paced the length of the private audience chamber while he waited for Lord George, who was speaking with the regent of Atalan. Judging by the expression on the older man's face when he entered, that interview had gone precisely as well as Daniel had expected.
Lord George sighed. "Lord Robert expresses his deepest alarm at the situation," he told Daniel without prompting, pouring a large glass of wine for himself after offering one to Daniel. "He did, however, agree to Sir Marshall's request that her Highness' disappearance and the intended ransom demand remain secret."
Captain Sumner's request, carried back to the city by Daniel while Sumner insisted on remaining with the men to search through the terrible weather, had run contrary to every instinct Daniel possessed. He would have spread the news far and wide, hoping that Elizabeth would be spotted sooner. But even Daniel admitted Sumner was correct. Elizabeth was, so far as they knew, alone and vulnerable out in the storm with at least one man already after her. To announce such a thing would be to invite all manner of rogues and miscreants to hunt for her in hopes of claiming a reward themselves.
Daniel did not falter from his pacing the room. "And the army?"
Lord George nodded. "He agreed to that as well."
That piece of information finally halted Daniel's wanderings. He had fully expected the regent to protest the removal of the army encampment from Atlantis. The city would be vulnerable without the company of soldiers.
Lord George sat down in one of the chairs, pointedly not looking at the empty dais where Elizabeth's usual seat was waiting. "If he orchestrated the kidnapping, he is concealing it well. He gave every appearance of desiring the princess' safe return."
Daniel looked towards the large windows. It was past sunset by now. Sumner and his men remained in the woods searching, but the darkness would slow their progress even further. They were not likely to find Elizabeth this night.
And with the winds howling across the land, it was uncertain whether Elizabeth could survive until morning.
***
Teyla settled herself at the table in Charin's kitchen with Halling as they came in from the vicious storm. Teyla resumed the conversation they had been carrying before the storm had silenced them.
"You are certain?"
Halling, who was some years older than herself and significantly taller than anyone else in the village, nodded. "He was no Wraith, just a man using their appearances to conceal himself. But even his clothing was not correct for a Wraith."
Teyla thought rapidly. The Wraith usually attacked the villages in the dawn and dusk. To stumble across one Wraith alone in the middle of the afternoon molesting a young lady in the woods had startled Teyla deeply. But his inability to answer the most straightforward questions had confused her. After securing the young lady in the village, she had returned to the site and had the body brought to Halling, who had inspected the remains. He agreed with her. The man was not a Wraith.
Which did not mean the young lady had not become entangled in something dangerous. Or that the Wraith would not attack this night, though the fierce winds would make landing their ships treacherous at best. Ironically, the foul weather would make them slightly more secure.
Charin entered the kitchen, undisturbed to find them there. Teyla craned her neck as the old woman puttered about her stove. "How is our guest?"
"She is sleeping now," Charin answered. "I gave her some broth and got her out of her wet things. I think it best we let her rest her fill. The poor thing looks to have seen a trying day."
Teyla thought of the blood and dirt spattered on the fine clothing. "Have we any idea who she is?"
"There was a report of an ambush on the road today," Halling said. "A party escorting a young girl of a well-born family was attacked."
"It is likely she was headed for Atlantis, or had just departed it," Teyla said. "My father returns tomorrow, does he not?" At Halling's nod of confirmation, she added, "Unless the storm breaks in the night, we will wait until he arrives before attempting to return her to Atlantis."
***
Carson Beckett sat down wearily in the far corner of the sickroom. Two of the guardsmen had been critically injured the previous day. One had died on the journey back to the castle, joining their three comrades who had fallen during the ambush.
Marcus Lorne, however, clung stubbornly to life. Carson was grateful for the young man's strength. Without it he would not have lasted this long, though Carson had been at his side the entire evening. At times Carson felt almost as though he were willing the man to live with every pulse of his own heart.
It was past midnight now. If Lorne survived the night, he would be out of the worst of the danger.
Carson watched as Lady Katherine sat by Lorne's bedside. She carefully dipped a cloth in cool water and wiped the fever sweat from Lorne's face and body. He had been tending to his patient himself but Kate offered to sit with the young man for a while so that Carson could rest.
He'd noted since his arrival in Atlantis last fall that Lorne had a quick tongue and a flirtatious eye. Heaven knew, Carson had heard Lady Laura and Lorne exchanging words that brought a blush to Carson's own face. But he had noted a greater gentleness on the handsome young man's part toward Kate. He had also seen how the young lady strove to appear unaffected by his attentions, but not with perfect success.
He doubted anyone had noticed this but himself, and Kate's disposition was such that he was certain mentioning it aloud would only add to her discomfort.
He did not suspect, however, that Kate's willingness to tend to the injured man was borne solely out of any kind of secret affections. The entire sanctuary of Atlantis seemed to be holding its breath. The corridors were full of restless servants even as the storm lashed at the walls outside. It was as if the very stones in the castle were waiting for news.
Carson could not bring himself to contemplate that the princess was gone. That such a beautiful, vivid young lady, with so much natural grace and a fiery nature that could not be concealed by all the courtly polish in the world, could be taken from them so cruelly seemed unfathomable. But his profession had shown him, over and over, that the world could be unconscionably cruel at times.
His body was weary but his mind was unable to settle, so he got up and decided to request some food from the kitchens, both for himself and for Kate. He opened the door to find Laura returning.
"My lady," he said quietly, stepping into the corridor and closing the door behind him. "I thought I sent you to rest."
Laura folded her arms about herself. "I tried, but I could not sleep."
Her grief-stricken face hurt him deeply. She was such a spirited lady, and to see her forthright nature so doused felt entirely unnatural.
"I can't stop thinking about her, out there in those strange forests alone. What if she is injured? What if she is waiting to be found out there in the darkness by herself? With a storm such as this raging?"
Tears were welling in her eyes, and Carson could no more have stood there and done nothing than he could have stopped breathing. Regardless of the impropriety, he pulled Laura into his arms and she leaned heavily into his support, her face pressed against his chest.
"Hush, love, don't say such things," he soothed. "Our princess is a strong lady." His own doubts and worries were too close to the surface to offer any false promises. "She'll not give up, so neither shall we."
Laura sighed, and Carson kissed the top of her head quickly, entirely without thinking about it. The lady did not appear insulted, as she wrapped her fingers in his shirt and held on to him.
***
Author: miera
Rating: PG
Pairing: gen
Summary: A storm, an attack and a rescue alter young Princess Elizabeth's perceptions irrevocably. Set two years prior to Ascension of the Queen.
Notes: Again, blame this one all on me. Though, other than a blink-and-miss-it bit of UST, there's nothing here to get in a twist over. :)
Princess Elizabeth allowed her cloak to fall open a little more, breathing deep the salty air as she walked to the stables. The winter had been long and dark and had refused to relinquish its hold on Atalan until very late. The lingering months of spring had seen heavy rains and great winds that had lashed the trees, churning the blue waters surrounding Atlantis to gray and white.
In these past weeks, though, warm weather had finally arrived. The sun shone brightly through the days, coaxing green shoots from the earth and the trees. This morning was not so bright, it was true, as dark clouds already gathered on the western horizon. The sun had not yet disappeared, though, and Elizabeth had no intention of wasting her morning, especially since the thin bridge of land that connected the sanctuary of Atlantis with the mainland was safe to travel. When the storms had receded several weeks ago, she had insisted on taking her daily ride across the bridge and into the forests along the shore. Now she found herself restless and irritable if she was not able to fly across the thin isthmus, water on either side and the ocean breeze slapping in her face.
The sense of an approaching storm only heightened her desire for swift motion.
Sir Marshall Sumner was in the stables, observing as Lorne and Bates prepared the guard to accompany her. The older man's disapproval was palpable, though Elizabeth thought wryly that it would be difficult for a stranger to recognize the difference between his usual expression and this one. "Captain," she nodded in greeting. "How is your arm this morning?"
Sumner ordinarily went with her everywhere, but three days ago it had rained and on Elizabeth's last morning ride, his horse had struck a loose patch of ground and thrown him in attempting to stay upright. Dr. Beckett had immobilized the broken arm and done his best to alleviate the pain, but it would be some weeks before the captain of her guard was able to ride again.
The captain grunted at her in response to her teasing and fixed his eyes on the guardsmen. "You know what will befall you if the princess returns with the slightest hair out of place."
The men nodded dutifully, but Elizabeth laughed. The wind blowing her hair out of place was exactly what she wanted.
***
Taking pity on Lorne and Bates, who were inordinately nervous in the absence of Sumner, Elizabeth slowed her horse down once they reached the mainland. Instead of heading into the trees she took the easy road near the shoreline at a gentle pace.
The long, stormy winter had provided her ample opportunity to think about her future. Simon's abrupt death on their wedding day and her subsequent illness had changed her perspective irrevocably. Lord George had pushed for her marriage to protect her life and her claim to the throne, and she was grateful for his efforts. Still, she wondered if her guardian understood what the marriage would have meant for her.
Simon would have become her whole world. He had been so much older than she that she would have relied on his judgment almost exclusively. She trusted Lord George and valued his wisdom, but Simon would not have been a father-figure, grooming her now that he might step aside when she ascended to the throne.
In her memory, the wedding felt like a particularly vivid dream. What would her life have been on this spring morning had Simon not been killed? She most likely would have been with child, assuming that her own bloodlines' weakness had not prevented it.
She frowned at the thought. Some small part of her that she buried deep within felt a lingering sense of relief that she had not had to share her bed with Simon. He had not been unpleasant to look at, but the large difference in their ages had left her feeling faintly nauseated every time the thought of the wedding night had occurred to her. Laura, in her usual manner, had said much on the subject during the course of the winter months. It was hopeless, she declared, to find any happiness in marriage if the woman felt absolutely no desire for her husband. Without some sort of mutual attraction, they could not survive living side by side for the rest of their lives.
Laura had then insisted she would not marry any man unless he could have enticed her into bed without a wedding ring. Elizabeth had laughed, but Kate had blushed and said nothing. Kate was slightly older than Elizabeth, and being a trusted servant of the future queen only added to the beautiful young lady's appeal to the men of the court. But it was difficult to envision any of them as staid, settled wives and mothers yet.
Kate and Laura, of course, were unburdened in their choice of husband by the approval or disapproval of the entire college of lords and the unofficial opinions of the entire nobility of Atalan. Not to mention that any suitor of theirs would not need to fear for his life just by courting them.
Elizabeth urged her horse to a slightly faster speed. Carson Beckett and Hermoid had reluctantly told her the details of the poison that had been used to kill Simon, over Lord George and Daniel's objections. They had no way of knowing who had arranged for the poison that had laced the food for the wedding party. Sir Marshall had quietly purged the household staff during the winter months, but no evidence had linked the act with any particular person.
She knew full well that the men who protected her believed Lord Robert Kinsey, the current regent, was behind the assassination attempt. Elizabeth had no difficulty believing Lord Robert would be driven to desperate measures to maintain control of Atalan, but the lack of proof worried her.
In the meantime, Elizabeth's guilt over Simon's death made her vow not to willingly endanger another man, no matter how she might feel for him. She would not marry until after she reached the throne. There would always be dangers for her and for the people around her, but she had too much to do for now. She was not ready to bear a child. She had not been ready to be a wife. She was still not ready to be the queen, and her time was running short.
The one bright spot in the winter months had been Carson Beckett. The young physician was a man of boundless energy. He shuttled from Atlantis to the Asgard sanctuary as often as the weather permitted. It had become customary for Carson to dine with her, Lord George, Daniel, Laura and Kate in the evenings he was in the palace. Daniel appeared to like the younger man a great deal and they often got lost in discussions about ideas that flew far over Elizabeth's head. Laura and Kate seemed to have no objections to staring at Carson for an hour every day either. Laura flirted boldly with the doctor, to his seeming consternation. Elizabeth had noted that Kate spent a great deal of time conversing with the handsome young doctor as well, though their conversations ran to more serious subjects.
But to Elizabeth, Carson Beckett was something else. She felt a fondness for him, something akin to her feelings for Lorne, Bates and some of the other guardsmen, but it was difficult to feel genuinely close to men whose purpose in life was to stand between her and any danger that presented itself.
Carson, she realized, was a friend. Though he was never disrespectful of the difference in their stations in life, when he spoke to her, it was not as a princess or a future ruler, but simply as another person. Elizabeth had been surrounded by people her whole life and yet had no idea how starved she was for that kind of companionship. Listening to Carson talk about his homeland, his travels and his work, had felt like opening a window into a previously unknown world.
During the winter she had spent countless hours in the great library of Atlantis, reading books on subjects she had never thought to pursue before, such as medicine and histories of scientific discoveries. She had been thoroughly schooled in history, geography, literature, writing, the basic sciences and art. Her guardians had considered her education complete, but Elizabeth knew better now. For all their desire to shield her, she knew that Atalan was not faring well. There was much danger, and much work to be done to restore the realm from the damages wrought during her father's time. The queen faced with that task could not simply be adequately prepared.
She paused her horse at the customary point, where the shore road curved along a promontory. To her right in the distance were the spires of the city, with the center tower of the palace looking small from here. To the left the shoreline stretched, trees edging close to the rolling blue waves. And before her was open water.
Elizabeth allowed the strong breeze to blow against her face, not caring that it turned her cheeks pink and her lips chapped. She drew strength from the wind, and with her resolutions firmly in place, turned her horse onto the road once more. She followed the trail into the trees and back towards Atlantis, it being shorter than the shore path.
***
The rest of the guard found his tendency for alarm humorous, but Bates trusted his own instincts. They had kept him alive so far and placed him second in command to the captain of the royal guard. So when his stomach began to clench nervously at the sudden silence as they rode through the woods, he reached for his sword immediately.
Arrows shot out of the leaf-covered brush to their left. He roared out commands as there were corresponding yells from both sides. There was a clattering of armor, the sound of hooves, and several men - were they even men? - appeared suddenly out of the trees.
Three horses shot away up the road as Bates swung his sword into the chest of the nearest man and the fight began.
***
Elizabeth clung to the reins, guiding her horse at a break-neck pace down the road on pure instinct. There was no time to think. Bates had drawn his sword, yelling, and in the confusion she caught a glimpse of something coming out of the bushes. Then Lorne had slapped her horse with his own reins and the two of them had raced off away from the ensuing battle. Young Markham went before them, weapon drawn. The men appeared to have arranged this response in advance. Elizabeth rather wished they had seen fit to explain it to her.
Now she ducked low over the horse's neck and just hung on as they surged down the twisting road through the forest. The sun had been swallowed by swiftly-moving clouds, creating shadows in the trees that unnerved her.
No one was behind them.
Before she could consider the implications, an obstacle appeared in the path as they rounded a bend and her horse swerved wildly to avoid colliding with Markham's. The animal lost its footing and abruptly she was falling sideways. With little time to react, Elizabeth threw herself outward, just barely gaining enough distance that her leg was not crushed.
She landed in the dirt, shredding skin from her palms. Markham was still fighting to control his horse, but Lorne was also unseated, falling to the ground not far from Elizabeth.
The fall saved Lorne's life. Elizabeth watched in frozen horror as a small dagger flew from some hidden place and buried itself in Markham's chest. Sheer shock was the only thing that prevented her from screaming.
Three large men appeared from the trees, wearing strange masks and hardened leather clothing over their upper bodies. The broken wagon across the road had been a ruse, she realized belatedly. They were trapped.
Lorne surged forward, his sword already in motion. Even as he twisted to get closer to Elizabeth, he cut into the legs of the nearest man, who let out a piercing shriek. She scrambled in Lorne's direction and then her heart seized as she felt an arm wrap around her, pinning her against a strange body. Her legs flailed, attempting to bring her feet into contact with a knee or a shin.
Lorne was on his feet now, roaring in anger and fighting with a man nearly half-again as tall as he. The man carried some sort of heavy axe, but Lorne's sword was longer and deadlier. The guardsman cut at his attacker repeatedly. Even as Elizabeth struggled, she watched Lorne spin and sever the man's arm.
The howls of pain and the sight of the gushing blood snapped something within Elizabeth. She bit down on the arm of the man attempting to drag her into the trees. He shook her but she could not have forced her own jaw open had she desired to. Her teeth continued to sink mercilessly into flesh until the man released her, so abruptly that she staggered and fell to the ground.
Lorne's defeat of the one man had cost him several blows, including a cut on his head. Half-blinded, he stumbled too close to the first man, who still held his sword. The blade plunged into Lorne's side.
Elizabeth found her voice at last. She screamed as she watched Lorne fall.
She heard movement behind her and turned to see the final attacker advancing on her, blood flowing from his arm from where she had bitten him. Swallowing against the strange taste in her mouth, she attempted to flee but her gown hindered her movements across the rough ground and she stumbled.
A soft sound heralded the dagger's flight as it struck her attacker in the stomach. He stood still for a moment before sinking to the ground. Elizabeth looked wildly about. Markham, his face pale, had managed to pull himself upright, remove the dagger from his own wound and throw it with fatal accuracy.
The man who had stabbed Lorne was hauling himself to his feet. Blood ran down his legs from his initial wound and he shot a malevolent glare towards Elizabeth.
She locked eyes with Markham momentarily. "Run," he whispered, and then fell forward.
Elizabeth fled into the woods as the rain began to fall. Her pursuer bellowed in fury and gave chase.
***
The battle was more brutal than Bates could have anticipated. The men who ambushed them - they were men, only clad in garments intended to make them seem less than human - had fought to their dying breath. The guardsmen had unmasked their last attacker now, and Stackhouse and Carpazin, surging with blood lust from the fight, toyed with him, circling their prey as the man swayed, bleeding everywhere.
Bates surveyed the trampled greenery and red mud. Four of his men lay on the ground, and at least three would not rise again. A full score of assailants also lay cleaved and broken, and yet this last man still stood?
His stomach twisted again and Bates shouted, "Stop!" a bare heartbeat before Stackhouse struck the killing blow.
"Hold him," he ordered, swinging himself onto his horse again and urging the animal to a frantic pace down the road. He had not far to go.
Lorne reached for him even as Bates leapt from his horse, his eyes swiftly taking in the barrier across the road, the two masked men and Markham's too-still form. Lorne grasped his arm, blood appearing over his lips, thinning as the rain washed it away. But his eyes burned and his hand on Bates' arm was still strong.
"He's after the princess," Lorne gritted out.
***
Had her foot not caught, sending her tumbling to the earth, Elizabeth did not know whether she would have ceased running until she reached the far edge of the world.
She did trip, falling onto already bruised knees. The impact jarred her from skull to feet, and her stomach rolled violently. Unable to hold it back, she turned her head as the bile rose in her throat. Images of blood, of Markham's face, of the sword piercing Lorne's body, flashed through her mind and aggravated the sickness until she was retching feebly.
When it ended, her body sank into the muddy ground, her head on her arm, tears running down her face.
More suffering. More death. Always. There seemed to be no escape for her.
Lying there, shaking and soaked and chilled to her marrow, Elizabeth gradually became aware of the tell-tale noise of heavy feet in the brush over the rain. The sound was distant, but even as her heart pounded in her ears, she knew it was coming closer.
She did not know from where she gathered the strength, but her body rose into a huddled crouch. She pushed the thoughts of Markham and Lorne from her mind and glanced about. If only she had some notion of where she was! They had been riding east when the ambush had struck, back towards the palace.
She spotted moss growing along a tree stump. She was not sure what direction she had gone when she fled from the scene of the attack, but to turn east would likely lead her back into the trap she was attempting to escape. If she headed west, she might eventually find the coastal road, and help.
Spring days were short, and though she could not gauge the position of the sun, it was growing rapidly darker. Elizabeth began to move as quietly as she could, holding her torn and filthy skirts gathered back to stifle their rustling. When news of the ambush reached the city, she had no doubt Sir Marshall would rouse every man available to search for her. But there was much ground to cover, and they would have no more idea of her location than she did. And the storm was growing steadily worse, with winds more like a winter gale than a gentle spring rain.
She was not likely to be rescued today. The thought struck her like a physical blow, but she clenched her teeth into her own mouth. She could not afford to be sick again.
Nightfall would be her ally. Though she would no longer be able to run, the man pursuing her would no longer be able to search for her either. She needed to find shelter, and pray that he did not stumble upon her before darkness came.
***
The duke of Langford had known Sir Marshall Sumner the entirety of his life. The captain of the guard had been in the king's service when Daniel had still been a small boy. When Daniel's uncle had died, Sumner's loyalty transferred to Elizabeth, the queen-elect. The old king's final charge to his loyal servant had been Elizabeth's safety - safety which had been threatened in more ways than one in the intervening eight years.
Yet never had Daniel seen Captain Sumner truly enraged until this moment. His jaw was clenched while the rain streaked down his weathered face.
Somewhere deep underneath his own terror and fury, Daniel waited for the captain to unleash his formidable temper on young Bates, who stood before them covered in dirt and blood as they surveyed the scene of the attack.
But Sumner had not reached his position by indulging his personal feelings.
"You will take the entire detachment of the guard and all the soldiers that can be mustered from Atlantis out into these woods, Bates, and you will not sleep, eat or piss until Princess Elizabeth is safely back in the palace. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir," Bates answered immediately. Recriminations would have to wait until a more appropriate time. The young man turned and started bellowing orders of his own to the rest of the guardsmen who were waiting in the lane.
Two of the guards towered over the one would-be attacker still alive. Daniel had sufficient experience with war to know the man was not long for this world. His breaths rattled in his chest and his face was blue as the paint on his arms and clothing.
Sumner unsheathed a small knife from his belt. Even with one arm still in a sling, he radiated menace as he stalked towards the man. Sumner placed the tip of the blade over the man's heart.
"Tell me why, and I will end your suffering," he said, his voice dead of emotion.
The prisoner's breathing hitched and Daniel thought he was attempting to laugh. "... Fetch," the man gasped out the words haltingly. "A... fine... price... for her."
The final word slurred and the man's eyes rolled back as he died.
Sumner turned away in disgust. The guards holding the body dropped it into the mud.
"Ransom?" Daniel asked Sumner as they walked towards their horses. He had to raise his voice to be heard above the wind. A wagon creaked along the road, arriving to take the critically injured guards, including Lorne, back to Atlantis.
"Or worse," Sumner said curtly. "The princess has been taking morning rides regularly for some weeks. Enough for an observer to note a pattern." Daniel recognized that the captain was silently berating himself for his own carelessness.
Unfortunately, Daniel had little energy within him to offer comfort. Elizabeth was missing, with heaven only knew how many of these villains chasing her. She was alone, possibly hurt and lost. If they could not find her swiftly...
But there was one tiny source of hope. "They'll want her alive, then?" he asked.
"Alive-" Sumner stopped speaking abruptly.
Daniel knew full well what Sumner had been about to say, and he was grateful that the other man did not give voice to the fear that was now nearly a living thing inside of him.
***
Elizabeth had long loved the soothing sound of waves breaking on the shore. Of course, she had always appreciated the noise while safely within the walls of Atlantis, where there were soft beds and warm blankets, hot food and clean water at hand. At the moment, she was searching vainly for some hiding place as the shadows deepened around her. She was within hearing distance of the ocean surf, which unfortunately meant the land was very flat, providing few spaces in which to conceal a person.
She could no longer hear thrashing footsteps in the distance. There was only the wind and rain in her ears. The absence of the sounds of pursuit only served to augment her fear. Her body shook from the chill in the air and her thoroughly soaked clothing.
Elizabeth looked up in frustration, wishing fervently for Laura's ability to climb about on trees and walls.
Before she could decide whether to attempt the maneuver, a branch snapped behind her. She whirled around and found herself face to face with her pursuer.
The man looked almost mad. His eyes burned, red-rimmed and heavy, and he lurched unevenly. Elizabeth saw that his trousers were soaked with blood. The only thing about him that remained steady was his sword, which was held out and pointed straight at her.
They stood face to face for a moment. Elizabeth's heart was racing, her mind spinning frantically. She held her own dagger - she had not had the presence of mind earlier to draw it but it had been clutched in her hand the entire afternoon. Dimly she wondered if she possessed the strength to attempt to fight him off. With his injuries, his skills would be compromised-
"Down!" she heard a voice yell. A voice that sounded far too feminine to have come from her attacker.
Elizabeth dropped to the ground just in time to avoid being hit by the heavy rock sailing through the air. Her assailant didn't appear to sense the impending attack, for the rock struck the man in the face with a sickening crunch and he staggered backwards.
A woman darted out of the shadows and flashed past Elizabeth. She held two heavy sticks and she knocked the sword from the man's hands, then swept his knees from under him. In a heartbeat, she was kneeling, one stick pressed across the man's throat.
"Where are the rest?" the woman growled.
He reached for the stick, but both his hands together could not move it.
"Where is the rest of your raiding party? Are they already at the village?"
"What?" the man gasped out.
For the first time, the woman faltered slightly. "Where is your ship?" she demanded.
She had pulled the heavy stick away but the man began to gag even harder and Elizabeth, swaying back to her feet, saw blood bubbling on his lips. "No ship," he choked out even as his face turned blue. "Horses."
He blindly reached out toward the woman, who stepped backwards.
The two of them watched impassively as he strangled and died.
Elizabeth startled when a warm hand touched her arm. She turned and looked into the face of her rescuer. She was young, not far from Elizabeth's own age, with darker skin, lighter hair and a face of such stark beauty it reminded Elizabeth of a hawk. That was all the detail Elizabeth was able to take in before the world began to spin. She managed to whisper one question: "Where am I?"
"You are in Athos, my lady. I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Lord Tagan."
Everything about Elizabeth went black.
***
Daniel wished pointlessly that Jack would appear by some kind of magic. Logically he knew his old friend could do no more to locate Elizabeth than Sumner and the combined forces of the royal guard and the infantry stationed in Atlantis, but Jack also had a habit of divining solutions to otherwise insurmountable problems.
Also Jack could always be useful as a sparring partner when Daniel was angry.
Instead, Daniel paced the length of the private audience chamber while he waited for Lord George, who was speaking with the regent of Atalan. Judging by the expression on the older man's face when he entered, that interview had gone precisely as well as Daniel had expected.
Lord George sighed. "Lord Robert expresses his deepest alarm at the situation," he told Daniel without prompting, pouring a large glass of wine for himself after offering one to Daniel. "He did, however, agree to Sir Marshall's request that her Highness' disappearance and the intended ransom demand remain secret."
Captain Sumner's request, carried back to the city by Daniel while Sumner insisted on remaining with the men to search through the terrible weather, had run contrary to every instinct Daniel possessed. He would have spread the news far and wide, hoping that Elizabeth would be spotted sooner. But even Daniel admitted Sumner was correct. Elizabeth was, so far as they knew, alone and vulnerable out in the storm with at least one man already after her. To announce such a thing would be to invite all manner of rogues and miscreants to hunt for her in hopes of claiming a reward themselves.
Daniel did not falter from his pacing the room. "And the army?"
Lord George nodded. "He agreed to that as well."
That piece of information finally halted Daniel's wanderings. He had fully expected the regent to protest the removal of the army encampment from Atlantis. The city would be vulnerable without the company of soldiers.
Lord George sat down in one of the chairs, pointedly not looking at the empty dais where Elizabeth's usual seat was waiting. "If he orchestrated the kidnapping, he is concealing it well. He gave every appearance of desiring the princess' safe return."
Daniel looked towards the large windows. It was past sunset by now. Sumner and his men remained in the woods searching, but the darkness would slow their progress even further. They were not likely to find Elizabeth this night.
And with the winds howling across the land, it was uncertain whether Elizabeth could survive until morning.
***
Teyla settled herself at the table in Charin's kitchen with Halling as they came in from the vicious storm. Teyla resumed the conversation they had been carrying before the storm had silenced them.
"You are certain?"
Halling, who was some years older than herself and significantly taller than anyone else in the village, nodded. "He was no Wraith, just a man using their appearances to conceal himself. But even his clothing was not correct for a Wraith."
Teyla thought rapidly. The Wraith usually attacked the villages in the dawn and dusk. To stumble across one Wraith alone in the middle of the afternoon molesting a young lady in the woods had startled Teyla deeply. But his inability to answer the most straightforward questions had confused her. After securing the young lady in the village, she had returned to the site and had the body brought to Halling, who had inspected the remains. He agreed with her. The man was not a Wraith.
Which did not mean the young lady had not become entangled in something dangerous. Or that the Wraith would not attack this night, though the fierce winds would make landing their ships treacherous at best. Ironically, the foul weather would make them slightly more secure.
Charin entered the kitchen, undisturbed to find them there. Teyla craned her neck as the old woman puttered about her stove. "How is our guest?"
"She is sleeping now," Charin answered. "I gave her some broth and got her out of her wet things. I think it best we let her rest her fill. The poor thing looks to have seen a trying day."
Teyla thought of the blood and dirt spattered on the fine clothing. "Have we any idea who she is?"
"There was a report of an ambush on the road today," Halling said. "A party escorting a young girl of a well-born family was attacked."
"It is likely she was headed for Atlantis, or had just departed it," Teyla said. "My father returns tomorrow, does he not?" At Halling's nod of confirmation, she added, "Unless the storm breaks in the night, we will wait until he arrives before attempting to return her to Atlantis."
***
Carson Beckett sat down wearily in the far corner of the sickroom. Two of the guardsmen had been critically injured the previous day. One had died on the journey back to the castle, joining their three comrades who had fallen during the ambush.
Marcus Lorne, however, clung stubbornly to life. Carson was grateful for the young man's strength. Without it he would not have lasted this long, though Carson had been at his side the entire evening. At times Carson felt almost as though he were willing the man to live with every pulse of his own heart.
It was past midnight now. If Lorne survived the night, he would be out of the worst of the danger.
Carson watched as Lady Katherine sat by Lorne's bedside. She carefully dipped a cloth in cool water and wiped the fever sweat from Lorne's face and body. He had been tending to his patient himself but Kate offered to sit with the young man for a while so that Carson could rest.
He'd noted since his arrival in Atlantis last fall that Lorne had a quick tongue and a flirtatious eye. Heaven knew, Carson had heard Lady Laura and Lorne exchanging words that brought a blush to Carson's own face. But he had noted a greater gentleness on the handsome young man's part toward Kate. He had also seen how the young lady strove to appear unaffected by his attentions, but not with perfect success.
He doubted anyone had noticed this but himself, and Kate's disposition was such that he was certain mentioning it aloud would only add to her discomfort.
He did not suspect, however, that Kate's willingness to tend to the injured man was borne solely out of any kind of secret affections. The entire sanctuary of Atlantis seemed to be holding its breath. The corridors were full of restless servants even as the storm lashed at the walls outside. It was as if the very stones in the castle were waiting for news.
Carson could not bring himself to contemplate that the princess was gone. That such a beautiful, vivid young lady, with so much natural grace and a fiery nature that could not be concealed by all the courtly polish in the world, could be taken from them so cruelly seemed unfathomable. But his profession had shown him, over and over, that the world could be unconscionably cruel at times.
His body was weary but his mind was unable to settle, so he got up and decided to request some food from the kitchens, both for himself and for Kate. He opened the door to find Laura returning.
"My lady," he said quietly, stepping into the corridor and closing the door behind him. "I thought I sent you to rest."
Laura folded her arms about herself. "I tried, but I could not sleep."
Her grief-stricken face hurt him deeply. She was such a spirited lady, and to see her forthright nature so doused felt entirely unnatural.
"I can't stop thinking about her, out there in those strange forests alone. What if she is injured? What if she is waiting to be found out there in the darkness by herself? With a storm such as this raging?"
Tears were welling in her eyes, and Carson could no more have stood there and done nothing than he could have stopped breathing. Regardless of the impropriety, he pulled Laura into his arms and she leaned heavily into his support, her face pressed against his chest.
"Hush, love, don't say such things," he soothed. "Our princess is a strong lady." His own doubts and worries were too close to the surface to offer any false promises. "She'll not give up, so neither shall we."
Laura sighed, and Carson kissed the top of her head quickly, entirely without thinking about it. The lady did not appear insulted, as she wrapped her fingers in his shirt and held on to him.
***