There were only two men who had the key to the crypt beneath Saint Catherine’s chapel, but when Abbot Aelfden saw who had left the door open, he could almost wish the lock had been picked.
“I am sorry, Sigefrith. I was called away.”
Vash claimed that he had on several occasions so lost himself in longing for Iylaine that she had risen up and come to him, without knowing where she was going, nor even that she was going to him.
The elf did not understand how his own longing for Catan had so far failed to summon her. He did not think he could want her any more without being forced to get up himself and go to her. Perhaps what he lacked was Vash’s strength, which would have allowed him to love her more and still stay put.
Beneath the riotous laughter of her stepchildren and friends, Hetty’s voice was little more than the wistful call of a lone dove lost among wind-rustled leaves.
“Alred,” she cooed. “We have a special guest tonight.”
“Your Highness.”
Dunstan was in the one place she hadn’t looked: directly behind her.
“I shall never be that thin again,” the Queen sighed.
“Neither shall I,” Britamund said. “It seems a shame to have altered the dress so radically.”
“Look!” Iylaine gushed. “There’s already a bed up here. Oh!” She threw up her arms and spun around. “I always wished I could sleep here like a guard. I used to play here all the time. This screen wasn’t here before—I know you can’t see—but I used to go out and walk along the beams, and frighten all the guards. How they would shout! And Malcolm would say—”
“Hmm!” the Duke grunted. “It looks bigger without all the junk in here. Rather cavernous, in fact—though I suppose you are accustomed to that by now, Friend.”
“I prefer a cavern with a fire to a shed without,” the elf said.
“If you would—” the priest began and then interrupted himself. “I hope you do not find it too cold in here, Catan. I am accustomed to unheated rooms. We could have a fire made.”
“Are you cold, Cat?” the elf blurted. “I could make you a fire.”
Sir Aengus had fled up the tower stairs so hastily that the blind elf was left to feel his own way up behind him. He was not likely to lose his way, however: he could follow the retreating footsteps and he could hear the murmured conversation at the top of the stairs.
He also knew that Catan was wherever he was going, and he could follow her light. Perhaps he would even find something to say to her this time.
“And those angels who kept not their first estate, but left their habitation, He has reserved in everlasting chains under darkness until Judgment Day.”
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