Chapter 20

Coming through the castle doors had taken more strength than Avalina knew she possessed. There had been a slight lull in the rain as she had ran across the courtyard, so her clothes had only been lightly speckled with raindrops.

Shivering, and not just from cold, she followed the torches as they guided her through a hall she had not visited yet. It may have been her fright playing tricks on her, but she could swear that this hall had more cobwebs and dust in it than the others she had seen. Even though it possessed the same amount of torches that all the other halls did, it seemed so much darker.

Every step she took felt like a mile between herself and home. The urge to turn around and flee back the way she came as fast as possible was overwhelming, and it took all her courage to keep going in her current direction. She didn't even know where she was going. At first, she felt like the hall might be going up, but then it felt like she might be heading down. . .there were several doors and other passages that were not lit, and her stomach tightened every time she passed one, nearly expecting something to leap out of nowhere at her.

Nothing did, but it didn't help her nerves much.

'Oh, Fates, if your listening, have mercy on me!'

She thought, trying to keep her imagination from getting too out of control at what could be waiting for her at the end of the hall.

'I beg you, have mercy!'

Except for the muffled crashing of the storm outside, the soft tap of her bootheels on the stone was the only audible sound, although Avalina fancied she kept hearing something like hushed whispers. Whether they were behind or ahead she could not tell. They would invariably silence when she stopped walking to listen closer. That scared her even more.

Her heart rammed against her ribs, not unlike how Mitternacht had rammed the stall door, as she forced herself to keep going, knowing that if she listened to the whisperings too long she would turn tail and run back down the hall. Looking back over her shoulder, however, she stopped dead in her tracks with a gasp of fright.

All the torches that had been lit all the way down the hall had been extinguished, leaving only pitch darkness where she had walked mere moments ago.

Shaking anew, she stared into the shadows behind the torches, trying to see any shadows, any movement, but there was nothing.

The torch beside her went out with a swish.

Nearly screaming in terror, Avalina turned and ran down the lit side of the hall as fast as she could go, terrified that all the torches would go out and leave her in total darkness. She didn't much care anymore what was waiting at the end, as long as there was light down there.

Looking behind her in fright, she didn't see the closed twin doors looming up in front of her until she almost hit them. Pulling herself up, her boots skidding softly on the stone, she whipped around to stare down the hall where all the torches were, gasping in fright. They were still burning steadily in the darkness.

'This is stupid,' she mentally scolded herself, trying to calm her racing heart.

'Your getting all worked up about nothing again. Mother would be very concerned if she knew I'm letting my imagination rule me like this. I'm being completely irrational. Castles have drafts, I'm sure, a draft just hit the torches and a couple just. . .'

Another torch down at the end of the hall went out, promptly followed by two more.

Another small gasp of fright escaped her lips as she turned back quickly to the massive doors, examining it.

'Why isn't it open like all the others?' She thought a bit frantically.

And then she remembered.

The royal castle at the city had a hall much like this, and the twin doors led to the reception hall, where the throne was and so forth. And then it all made sense.

'Great stars,' Avalina thought, shaking, 'The master's in there.'

Her knees felt like they were about to give out.

'And he's waiting for me.'

Feeling like she had just been doused in a wave of icy water, she raised her shaking hand up to tap the old, weathered wood. . .

And jumped violently when they groaned open all by themselves.

They opened into a massive, well lit hall, that seemed far too long to be practical. The ceiling rose high above her, making the room appear even bigger than it was.

And down at the end she could make out a massive stone throne, on an elevated platform, enshrouded in shadows.

And there was someone in it.

Terrified, Avalina slowly came into the hall, just barely restraining herself from whipping around as the the door slammed shut, trapping her inside with the master. There was a harsh finality in the sound.

Barely able to put one foot in front of the other, she slowly came closer, not certain at whether to try and see the person or look away for fear of staring. Whoever it was hadn't taken their eyes off her since she came in. She could feel their gaze raking over her.

Stopping a few yards short of the steps leading up to the platform, uncertain on whether to go any further, she wondered how she was supposed to behave. This person lived in a castle, so did that mean they were royalty? Nearly panicking, she tried to remember how to act.

"Closer."

The voice grated out slowly, drawing the word out a bit, making Avalina's stomach rise to her throat. Biting her tongue, hoping the pain would keep her from passing out, she slowly came nearer till she was standing right at the base of the steps (Of which she counted five) leading up to the throne. She was now in the full light of the torches, in plain, clear view of the person above her.

Tentatively, she raised her face, hoping to at least get a glimpse of the master, but all she could make out was the wine-colored robe that covered his knees and flowed down to his boots, covering all but the toe. They appeared to be soft leather, the flexible type that fitted to your foot. The vague outline of a shape in the shadows was the only other thing she could see. From this angle and the way the torches had been lit, she couldn't see anything else, other that, even when sitting down, he was quite tall. Subconsciously, she narrowed her eyes to try and see him better in the darkness where he sat.

"Don't *stare* at him, you idiot! Kneel, kneel, before he loses it!"

A small voice whispered fiercely. A muffled "Ouch!" followed the statement, as if it wasn't meant to be heard.

Avalina's eyes widened at the shock of actually hearing one of those soft whisperings clearly for the first time, and then realizing what she had done. No one could look at royalty without permission! The king and queen of Prydain were rather lenient in that area, and she had forgotten her manners. People died for forgetting their manners in front of royalty.

Nearly choking in fright, realizing she had been staring at him, she forced her trembling knees into a somewhat clumsy kneel, keeping her eyes firmly on the floor, hoping her temporary lapse would not anger him.

"I'm s-sorry sir, please f-forgive my insolence. I-I d-didn't mean any h-harm," she stammered out, nearly visibly cringing at how pathetic she sounded.

A silence followed, during which she dug her fingers hard into the sides of her skirt, not daring to push her hair back that had fallen over the sides of her face. It would be better if she didn't move at all.

A very dark, rattling breath came from the shadows in front of her, freezing her heart, before it melded into speech.

"Get up."

The words were hard and cold, with no emotion at all. Trembling, Avalina did as he said, as her stomach threatened to seal off her airway and choke her.

"Look up."

This time the words had a faint but obvious ring of irritation in them, making the girl flinch noticeably this time. Tentatively, she slowly raised her face up to look back into the shadows at the throne where the figure sat, her eyes scanning the place over, searching for movement, features of some sort, anything that might distinguish him as more than just a shapeless silhouette.

Without realizing it, she furrowed her brows slightly as she tried to overlook the torches' glare. Starting at his knees. . .the best lit point she could see. . .her gaze traveled up the stone arms of the throne. . .where clearly his arms were, but she could not clearly make them out.

Working father up, she came to where she guessed his head was, and, narrowing her eyes, tried to concentrate on it. Vaguely, she caught a faint glimpse at what seemed like a rather gaunt, sunken face.

Before the darkness closed over her eyes again, she caught a very faint glimpse of movement, and her attention was drawn to up above his face. Concentrating, she made out a couple of odd-looking shapes, before her moment of clarity was gone again.

It had looked almost like. . .horns.

The Horned King's gaze had not left the girl from the moment the door came open. Observing her every move, her every intake of breath, he had watched her cross the room towards him, noting how she jumped when the massive doors closed.

Without quite realizing what he was doing, he reached a hand up a couple of inches off the throne arm, before catching himself and lowering it.

Her presence felt almost tangible enough to touch. He had nearly tried to himself. He could see her fear, sense it with every step she took. Just like all who came before him, she trembled in terror. And she did not even know who he was.

Why was her presence so strong? The Horned King narrowed his eyes slightly. There was nothing out of the ordinary about her. A dull green shirt with sleeves about three inches below her elbows, a dark brown sackcloth split skirt, no doubt for horseback riding, and farming boots covered her slim frame. All of her clothing was clearly peasant-made, matching the brush-farmer description she had given him last night.

Making her come forward more when she stopped too soon, he realized that she was not avoiding looking at the place he sat. Rather, she was looking up, right at him. All his followers in the past, and all his prisoners, had avoided looking at him if at all possible. And why not? He was terrifying, horrifying, and hideous to behold. Not even the bravest of men could ever look at him for longer than a moment or two without looking away in terrified revulsion. Not that he minded, it only gave him more power over them.

But she couldn't see him, he remembered. If she could see him it would be another story entirely.

Suddenly, he realized the girl was now kneeling at the foot of the steps, stammering out some sort of apology. He stared for a moment, temporarily lost, until he caught on. At his command she rose again, her hands fisted around the folds of her skirt. He could see her trembling from here, face turned down, masking her in shadow.

Faintly irritated that he had to speak again, he growled softly at her to look up. Shaking, she did so, and he was able to get the first good look at her face since she had arrived.

His first impression was that she was younger than he had thought last night from the balcony. Her eyes were too clear and her face too innocent to be as old as he had roughly estimated last night. At this moment she was rather pale in the torchlight, from fear most likely, and her eyes were a darker color he could not make out from this distance. A reddish, blueish abrasion above her right eye looked like it had been made very recently. It looked like the Invisibles had taken care of it, for it was already healing.

Her hair seemed to be a rough brownish shade, no two locks quite the same length as it fell around her face and shoulders in an unruly, curling mass to end about halfway down her back. She gave off the impression of having just came in from a tornado, with her frightened expression.

'So,' he mused, 'This is Avalina.'

The name suited her, he decided.

Studying her, the Horned King realized in faint surprise she was looking back. . .no, staring back. . .into the shadows that hid him like a cloak, staring right at his face. Slightly taken aback, he moved slightly to make sure he stayed out of the torchlight. As he shifted, her gaze flickered upwards, and he realized she might have seen his horns.

'Not that it matters much,' he thought. 'That knowledge won't save her.'

His musings were interrupted by Avalina speaking.

"Sire?"

Faintly taken by surprise that she would dare to speak in his presence, he shifted slightly, before answering.

"You are quite the bold one, to look at me, child," he dredged out, feeling a twinge of satisfaction as he saw the girl start at the sound of his voice, "And even bolder to speak in my presence."

Dropping her gaze, she stammered out a quick, frightened apology.

"I'm sorry, S-Sire, I wasn't trying to be imp-pertinent."

The Horned King arched a brow muscle, again slightly surprised. 'For a common peasant she has quite a vocabulary,' he mused, before answering.

"Say on."

After a moment, where it looked like Avalina was mentally trying to pull herself together, much to the Horned King's faint amusement, she spoke.

"I d-don't mean to impose, b-but the storm is still too strong f-for me to depart in. I-I was h-hoping you would allow me t-to s-stay another n-night? Plea-please?"

The Horned King pondered this question silently to himself. As she finished her sentence, he had felt her fear spike sharply, but this time, not towards him. It had seemed directed at the prospect of being out in the storm in the middle of the night.

Studying her more, he noticed the faint hitches of her breathing whenever the thunder or lightning crashed outside. It wasn't so audible inside the stone castle walls, especially here, in the center, but it was still the likes of which he had not seen in nearly a century.

'This will work in my favor,' the Horned King thought, making up his mind as a faint memory of the Fates pulled at him.

"You will stay."

Unaware that he had been leaning forward slightly, watching her, he settled back, watching relief work across her face as she got out her thanks.

"Th-Thank you, sir," Avalina managed, "I p-promise to leave as soon as I can."

The Horned King signaled to his Invisibles, which he could feel lurking about the room, to open the doors at the end of the hall. His eyes never leaving the girl down below him, he thought of one more thing.

"How old are you?"

Avalina seemed taken aback by this question, but she recovered.

"I'm fourteen, sir."

For some reason, the Horned King felt a part of his chest slowly sink. 'Too young,' he thought.

Suddenly angry, he softly grated out his dismissal, careful to keep his voice even.

Avalina bowed and softly left, her presence leaving with her like a soft veil.

Again, The Horned King's right hand raised an inch or two as if to feel her aura between his fingers before the doors slammed shut and she was gone.