Her maid awaited her, clucking her disapproval as she helped Castil remove her thin cloak and dress. “Down in the vaults again, I see. If you insist on lingering there, you should at least dress forit.”
Castil chuckled at the admonishment. “I didn’t think I would be solong.”
The maid, a young girl named Thesla, tossed her dress in a basket for laundering. “That is the coldest place within the fortress. You would be warmer standing out in the courtyard in your shift.” She stripped Castil down to a thin chemise and handed her a fur pelt to wrap around herself. Castil huddled within it, standing as close to the hearth fire as was safe to staywarm.
A mischievous glitter entered Thesla’s eyes. “Do you know the way to the mineralbaths?”
She did. Numerous natural hot springs dotted the landscape, most of them dangerous because of the boiling temperatures of the water. There were a few, however, that were no hotter than bath water. Two lay just outside the fortress and the Helenese were fond of frolicking in them on days when the weather was clear. This wasn’t one of those days. “That holds no temptation for me today, Thesla. The wind outside would freezearmor.”
The maid shook her head. “No, not the common baths.” She raised the lid of the chest at the end of Castil’s bed to pull out a thick cloth and a heavy frock trimmed in fur. “There’s a small spring here, in the depths of the fortress, like the vaults. But it’s warmer there and reserved for the royalfamily.”
The idea of relaxing in a pool of heated water not exposed to the outside elements had its appeal, especially now as she continued to shiver beneath the fur pelt. Still, Thesla said it belonged to the royal family, and she was not one of itsmembers.
“I think not. I don’t wish to cause offense by intruding where I don’t belong.” She gestured for the frock. “It would be best if I justdressed.”
Thesla held the garment out of her reach. “You’re a guest of the king, madam. The springs are open to you.” Her voice turned coaxing. “Try them. You’ve been here two months now and never experienced the baths. Trust me. It’s something not to bemissed.”
A little more cajoling from the maid and Castil soon found herself back out in the corridors, her dry cloth and frock in hand. Following Thesla’s directions, she found the chamber housing thespring.
The cloister wound downward and back, cutting deep into the heart of the mountain. Green witchfire flickering in the torches lining the walls lit her way, giving the hall a ghostly, iridescent glow. This was the product of magic, and the light gave off no heat as she paused, passing her hand over one of the emeraldflames.
She had seen such things in her time here in Helenrisia. The country bordered the Wastelands, its warped magic an awesome, living thing felt by all the denizens of the north. Nearly everyone she met could perform some small enchantment as the residual effects of ancient forces bled across the forbidden borders, touching upon anyone living nearby. Hel’s king was the most obvious recipient of itspower.
Unlike her own people, the Helenese didn’t find his appearance so strange or frightening. Castil had wondered about it until a few conversations enlightened her. It was Thesla who revealed the cause of Doranis’s coloration, or lack thereof, and his skill with the many enchantments he couldperform.
“His mother was abducted, you know.” She worked with Castil to fold back the bed linens and run the warming pan across the coldsheets.
“Abducted? Bywhom?”
“The Bahauran, when she carried His Majesty in her belly. My mother says the old king went nearly mad withrage.”
Bahauran. Legendary denizens of the Wastelands. Descendents of the vanished Elders, they lived in the frozen, ruined cities, surrounded by the magic that twisted their bodies over eons of time. But where it took, it also gave back. There were tales told in scrolls and around campfires as far south as the Sedbar Islands, of the great sorcerers who lived in the ancient and forbiddenWastelands.
“Why would they kidnap thequeen?”
The girl shrugged. “No one knows. She was returned four days later, her memory of her time among them gone. But you see what that sojourndid?”
Castil nodded, her brow knitted. The prince had been marked before his birth by his mother’s capture. He was a magus king now, like and yet unlike the Bahauran. Leached of all color as they were, with the power of the Wastelands coming easily to him, he was neither misshapen nor mad. His people, who lived within the shadow of the forbidden territory, accepted him easily enough. It was only outside their borders that the fear abided, the uneasiness at gazing upon a man so obviously graced with an ancient and mysteriousforce.
The green light brightened when Castil neared a door surrounded by numerous small torches. The hinges squeaked in protest as she opened it and stepped inside. Her delighted inhalation echoed in the chamber at the sight of a large bubbling spring, nearly hidden within swathing veils of steam drifting off the water. Narrow steps cut into the floor descended into the pool to disappear from view under thewater.
The chamber housing the spring was vast, with sloping tunnels that disappeared farther into the belly of the mountain. A skilled painter had depicted scenes of Helenese life on some of the smoother walls, and heavy tapestries covered portions of the floor to cushion one’s feet. It was a sumptuous place, especially among the more austere surroundings of the FrozenMaiden.
Castil placed her dry cloth, tunic and shoes in a neat pile on one of the rugs before shrugging out of her robe and chemise. Without the protection of the garments, she shuddered from the damp chill. The water looked inviting, and she dipped her toe in to test its warmth. It was hot, but not so hot as to scald, and the effervescent bubbling tickled her feet. She descended the steps and sank into the water with a happysigh.
An amused, throaty voice shattered her assumption that she was alone. “That certainly took you longenough.”
Castil yelped, startled by the unexpected company. Her heart pounded in her chest. She sank lower into the water and discovered Doranis swimming lazily toward her, his white skin flushed a pale rose from the heat. His light eyes were narrowed with laughter and something else as he waded closer toher.
“You-you-your Majesty,” she stammered, “you scared me. I thought I wasalone.”
He circled her in a lazy lap around the pool, the motion emphasizing his muscled back and arms as he slid through the water. “Forgive me, Castil. It wasn’t my intention to frightenyou.”
She tracked his movements, pivoting so she always faced him. The water was cloudy, but offered very little modesty. And he certainly got an eyeful when she undressed, unaware that he lurked in the pool, watching. His eyes, lit with a faint, mocking humor, assured her of that particulartruth.
“You should have spoken sooner.” She scolded him, her voice severe. “Sire,” she added in grudgingtones.
Doranis laughed, swimming ever closer to her in diminishing circles. “Indeed? And why is that? I was treated to the most beautiful sight. A lovely woman descending into a bath is a blessing of the gods, Castil ilVeras.”
