A/N: Thankums for all your amazing reviews recently!
The next time Lirael saw Cronwell, it was in the dining hall for breakfast. Generally, Lirael liked to eat alone, though she always accepted her family's company. Today, she was embarrassed to find Nick waiting in her regular seat. She blushed, and took the seat next to him, trying to tell herself he was only being friendly – and that she certainly had no additional emotions towards him.
Smiling, she turned to him, and for the first time in a while she looked on him properly, looking at him in a manner of romantic interest.
He had a handsome face, square jawed and interesting. He had no beard, but stubble lining in his chin and upper jaw and framing his lips. As he smiled at her heart leapt, and she was forced to look at his beguiling deep blue eyes, his straight nose and soft looking hair that jutted out over his forehead in a spiked fringe.
Lirael blushed further as he reached across her for the platter of bacon. Lirael took hold of herself, and made to reach out for the platter too and as she did, her hands ran over his. Nick put the platter down, and suddenly grasped both her hands in his.
Lirael felt her heart begin to thump loudly, and she found it hard to breathe as he leaned closer, so close she could feel his breath on her face. Her heart was in her chest, blood roaring in her ears as the hall and everyone in it became a blur around her. Suddenly, the only one there was Nick, and she found herself unable to look away and break contact with those amazing eyes.
Nick looked at her; so beautiful he thought he might cry. She watched him from beneath that curtain of long luxurious black hair and if was all he could do to restrain himself from kissing her. The thought alone sent shivers down his spine, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to steady his thudding heart.
He looked up... 'Lirael, I...' he stopped, as her eyes looked into his, and his words tripped over themselves and fled away, leaving him dumb.
Slowly, Gently he traced her lifeline with his finger, making it travel past her wrist, up her arm and flick upwards to push her hair behind her ear.
Nick met her gaze and their eyes danced. Tentatively, Lirael reached out and traced his strong jaw line with the tip of her finger.
'Nick...' she breathed, her heart leaping with excitement.
'Mistress Lirael!' a pompous voice broke the tender moment like a water-bomb, Lirael stood up suddenly her eyes suddenly meeting the black eyes of Lord Cronwell.
She flashed him a frosty smile, and was quite outraged when blindly, he bent as kissed her cheek. She let him, staring straight ahead as if it had never happened, and it was only when she realised that Nick had gone did she turn to confront her interrupter.
'Good Morning, Lord Cronwell,' she said coldly, 'I trust you had a comfortable night?'
'Very comfortable, thank-you, Lirael. Your niece is quite the hospitable one.'
Lirael had meant to snap at him, "Abhorsen!" but she found herself lost for words, her eyes wide. 'Ellimere gave her consent...?' she spluttered, speechless.
Cronwell suddenly fixed her with a very hard stare. 'No,' he said, with over-blown sarcasm, 'Of course not, it's usual in the nature of Lords to take women by force- OF COURSE she gave consent!'
Lirael felt herself blushing, 'Of course, that's not... not what I...'
'You ought to be careful of that one.' Cronwell cutting in, nodding to the West side of the hall and Lirael spotted Nick ascending the steps that would take him to the armoury.
'Yes, that's the one.' Cronwell said, 'That Sayre is not to be entirely trusted, as you should know, Mistress Lirael, one's who come back from the dead are far too suspicious to be given any proper attention at all.'
Lirael's head snapped back to Cronwell. 'Most who have respect refer to me as Abhorsen.' She snapped. 'And Sayre seems...'
'Ah, yes, they always seem that way...Abhorsen. It takes true strength of character to recognise a servant of the dead and that I ha...'
'I'm sorry.' Lirael spluttered, 'Are you an Abhorsen?'
'No, but as such I...'
'Well, Lord, as Abhorsen, I do not believe such matters lie in your hands to judge...'
she was about to add, "and stay away from my niece" but as the words flowed into her head to dismissed them as they sounded petty and petulant.
Instead, she turned on her heel and left the hall.
On instinct, she followed Nick, trying to put into words how she felt about him. She wanted to say so much to him... to express in some meaningful way her feelings for him, but words failed her every time and she stumbled over each, trying to voice them.
When she found herself in front of the armoury, she was surprised, but suddenly determined to do something... to express herself, and taking in a deep breath she pushed open the door.
'Oh, Sam.'
It was Nick behind the door, but Sameth, sharpening a blade on the sceer-stone – a kind of flat, round piece of rock with charter marks etched on every inch of it. Bare skin simply slid through it but if you muttered to marks for turning and sharpening the stone would begin to spin rapidly, turning hard in one direction and then the other, speeding up. Still, the rock would make no physical contact with anything until you pressed a blade to it. In a flurry of sparks and a grating of materials the rock would sharpen the blade... and it was how Lirael found Sameth now, bending over the stone, sweating heavily.
He looked up, and Lirael raised her eyebrow. 'Who are you trying to impress?' she asked, looking him over. From the waist down he was wearing overalls – ones embroided with the spade of the Wallmakers, it was a symbol Sam regularly showed off these days. It had been he who had made the sword that slewed Orannis, the destroyer.
It had been made from Lirael's own blade – a blade that she had to admit she missed an awful lot.
Sam had been sweating so much that he had removed his shirt – revealing his muscular body underneath. He had been tanned during the summer and the result was pleasing to the womanly eye. However, Lirael, being his aunt kept all these sort attractions well away from herself – especially since even the idea made her squirm.
The thing that had caught her attention was the blade he had been making – Lirael recognised it as a sword made especially for the female guards of the palace. Female's blades were made different not for sexist reasons – but because they were a lot faster than the men. It was for this reason that their blades were specially shaped and crafted.
The sword Sam was bent over now was immensely impressive, a beautifully crafted creation – a weapon that blended swiftness with scythe to create a very deadly piece of workmanship.
Lirael was mostly intrigued by the fact that it had been made for female hands.
'Who is this for?' she asked, her eyes glittering as she looked upon the deadly object.
'Oh, hello, Lirael.' Sam smiled at his aunt, then reached across to kiss her on the cheek, outside, Lirael spotted a very disgruntled looking maid who had been watching Sam work with awe. She now looked upon Lirael with jealousy. The maid didn't suspect romance between the two relations – but she definitely fancied a kiss from the good-looking prince.
Lirael repeated her question as Sam continued with his work.
He sighed, 'its for Mariias,' he sighed, looking guiltily up at Lirael.
Lirael thought for a moment, and then remembered who Sameth was talking of. A guard, tall and pretty, though very much a girl.
Lirael gave Sam an enquiring look and he sighed again. 'I know, I know, I should be thinking about Dad but... but then Lord Cronwell came yesterday and Ellimere's coronation is soon... and...'
'What?' Lirael asked, confused, 'I don't understand... I... Cronwell?'
Sam frowned at his aunt, 'Didn't you know?'
'Know what?'
'Ellimere and Cronwell have been seeing each other for years... well, on and off for a bit... after Wyverly of course I can't believe she never told you!'
'She didn't.' Lirael remarked, brushing her hair aside with her golden hand.
'Yeah... well, things have been happening. You know I've been wanting to ask Mariias for ages, but... I thought, If Ellimere's got someone I ought to and...'
He glanced up at Lirael who looked upon Sam as if she had never seen him properly before.
'Oh.'
Sameth turned his back on her to discreetly wipe a tear away and Lirael gripped his shoulder. Thinking of Touchstone brought pain to her heart too, but Lirael was far more worried for her sister than her nephew. She had barely seen her since they had emerged from death two days ago, and she felt she really ought to talk to the older Abhorsen.
In the past six months, Lirael had drawn very close to her older sister, and was extremely fond of her, but that still didn't stop the awkwardness of her situation now that Touchstone was gone... Lirael almost felt as if it would have been better for her to die than Sabriel's beloved, because she had only just come...
Lirael found this suddenly spilling out of her. 'Should I have been taken in his place Sam? I wish it had been me. Your father is more family than I've ever been and I haven't been here long...'
She found herself in tears, 'I'm sorry,' she spluttered, 'I just...I just wanted a family, Sam... I just wanted...'
Sam, who had been watching her, tears streaming down his face suddenly yanked her forward and pulled her into a tight embrace.
'Don't ever say that Lirael,' he whispered in her ear, rocking her gently as she sobbed into his shoulder, 'We love you. You are family...its.... its not your fault he's gone. Its not.'
These were the kindest words Lirael had heard in a long time, and she felt herself beginning to shake with grief.
'I miss her!' she cried, 'I miss her so much!'
'Shh,' Sam whispered in her ear, stroking her hair, 'I know, aunt, I know. I miss her too. But The Dog is gone. She did her brave deed. And she loved you with every ounce of her being.'
'That's what makes it so bad!' Lirael choked, her voice breaking, 'Because she loved me! I should have died Sam, it should have been me!'
'Oh shut up,' Sam said softly, 'Don't say things like that. This world needs you, Lirael. I need you. Our family needs you, mother needs you!'
Lirael nodded numbly, trying to pull off some of the pain that had been haunting her. 'I know.' She whispered, 'I just never had anyone love me, save the Disreputable Dog. She loved me. Even my aunt didn't love me.'
Sameth hugged her tighter. 'But your mother did. Remember that message that Mogget gave to you?'
Lirael did, and at that thought yet more tears leaked down her pale cheeks. 'Yes.' She answered finally. 'She loved me.'
'And so do we.' Sam assured her, 'You've just got to remember that.'
Lord Cronwell watched as Lirael left the armoury.
What was so special about her? He wondered, watching her. Certainly she was beautiful, and before he had realised she was the Abhorsen he had been told to spy on he had been quite determined to lay her in his bed. Of course, being Lord Cronwell, that was still his predominant wish, though her niece satisfied him in the bedroom well enough. A little inexperienced perhaps... a little hesitant to satisfy her lover – and let him satisfy her... still, he couldn't help himself. The next woman he lay with would be Lirael Goldenhand, he was sure of it, and he was not surprised when he mentioned this to Ellimere when she commented that rather a lot of men were pining after her affection.
Lirael was oblivious to this of course, being naïve as she was in that area of social life, but Cronwell was determined to break her in, quite against his master's wishes to size her up for killing.
What was he thinking about? Cronwell thought to himself as he eyed Lirael from down the corridor. His master wanted to kill this woman? But she was harmless! A harmless, inexperienced Abhorsen. She would be no more difficult to murder than a chicken unlike that barbarous King Touchstone. As for Lady Sabriel, well... he would have to see.
For the moment he was desperate to sleep with Lirael before he did anything.
As Lirael rounded the corner to her chambers Cronwell sped up so he didn't miss her walking in, and was bitterly disappointed to see that bumbling fool Nicholas Sayre lurking outside her door. He watched, a mad glint in his eye as Lirael talked shyly to him, before bidding him Good Afternoon and going back into her chambers.
Much more to his disappointment Cronwell found that Sayre hung around her door much longer than was natural and Cronwell made up his mind to dispose of the infatuated puppy. Not right now, but soon there would be a time to act. His master was coming, and their surprise attack on the palace had greatly weakened the subjects – especially Sabriel for her loss.
Cronwell watched Sayre for a few more moments before turning back and sneaking back to Ellimere's room.
While he made love to the princess that night, he made up his mind when to strike.
When Ellimere was crowned Queen he would conquer this Kingdom. He and his master would conquer the legendary Sabriel and her sister. They would kill anyone who got in their way.
With one last motion Lord Cronwell felt the familiar feel of gushing pleasure wash over him, making him shiver and Ellimere moan beneath him. He withdrew himself and leaned over her, kissing the princess's pale neck and chin, breathing in her scent as he kissed her hairline. 'Marry me,' he whispered before she found his mouth and kissed it passionately.
'Alright,' she whispered back, pulling the Lord's head down onto her breast to listen to her heartbeat.
'Do you love me, Sardis?' she asked.
'Yes.' He lied, wrapping her in a muscular embrace.
She lay breathing heavily for a while before she fell asleep next to him. Smiling to himself, Cronwell sank into a dream about he would do when he ruled...
A/N: Oh trouble for Lirael then! I hope to post the next chappie asap but I might be delayed due to the fact that I must finish my other story soon! TTFN!
