Curse of the Celts by Clara O'Connor (most romantic novels .TXT) 📕

When Devyn shook us awake, the sun had lifted above the horizon. I felt worse for having rested; my body felt robbed of the proper rest that was far overdue. I scowled at Devyn as he put an arm around Marcus to help him.

“You were supposed to wake me.”

“You’d have been happier if I woke you earlier, princess?”

I scowled harder.

“Am I?” I asked as I shook off the last traces of sleep.

“What?”

“A princess.” The danger having passed, and realising I was on the edge of my new life, I felt curiosity about who I really was starting to bubble up within me.

He huffed a laugh. “No.”

“Then stop calling me that.” I braced myself. “Who am I then?”

Devyn’s lips tightened before he lowered his voice for my ears only. “Not yet. I know you want to know more but it’s not safe yet. What you don’t know, you can’t inadvertently let slip. You’ve got to be careful, Cass. You cannot mention to anyone that you were adopted, or in any way not city-born. Bad enough that we’re travelling with him.” He indicated the broken figure that Marcus cut. “Promise me.”

“Why not?”

“Because the kingdoms are not all… It’s complicated. News that you are alive will spread quickly and attract attention that we could do without. I will tell you. As soon as it’s safe to do so. ”

“That who is alive?” I pushed. “Who am I really? Do I have family? Are you taking me to them?”

Devyn cast me a quelling glance as Marcus began to stir. As always, he had no intention of telling me anything more than he had to.

“Please trust me in this.”

“You leave me little choice,” I noted sourly.

Marcus sat up and blearily looked around for us.

“Fine,” I grudgingly acceded. Devyn gave me a quick smile in thanks.

Matthias’s bags had to be abandoned, their contents too identifiably imperial, before we made our way to join the people traveling along the road that led to the city gates.

At Devyn’s urging, we pulled up the hoods of our cloaks as we approached the walls. The brightening sky illuminated the spires of the city that peeked above the defensive walls. So different to the soaring towers of Londinium, these were delicate and shaped in a variety of needles and domes, either crenellated or slender.

As we neared the walls, Devyn gave instructions on how we should behave once inside. Marcus trailed behind, barely conscious, let alone paying attention.

When Devyn stepped forwards to speak with the guards at the city gate, I kept my head down and my face averted. Once we had been ushered through the gates, we followed Devyn silently through the quiet streets. I’d never been in a Briton town before. I wasn’t sure what I had expected.

The buildings were low, many of them no more than two floors high, and constructed in a beautiful golden-coloured stone that was warm in the dawn light. Glowing lights that floated by the walls winked out as the new day began.

The streets were cobbled and there were already people out and about beginning their day. Some wore long hooded cloaks pulled up against the cold of the autumnal morning; others were bundled in wide woollen or tweed throws wound around their shoulders over tunics and tight-fitting trousers, with robust, practical boots. Some women wore long dresses with wide belts pulling them in at the waist, all in natural-looking materials. I felt a little conscious that the lightness of our temperature-regulating clothes was not helping us blend in on the rather brisk first morning of November.

Devyn stopped a couple of times to ask for directions, ignoring my questions as to where we were headed.

At last, we turned in through the high walls surrounding one of the buildings that Devyn told me was a college, and Devyn asked for a final set of directions from the elderly porter for how to reach a professor.

By this stage, Marcus was barely able to stay upright, despite Devyn’s support, and managing the curving stairs was a struggle.

Our knock on the door was eventually answered by a large man with a tattoo curling from his temple down into his beard. He was not the effete old professor I had expected. On opening the door at this early hour, he was grumbling deeply, but pulled up short as he took in the three exhausted strangers at his door.

His gaze snagged when he reached Devyn. His scowl deepened.

“Well, pup, what hour do you call this?”

Devyn’s shoulders were hunched as we stood in the hallway. It seemed like he was unsure of his welcome. I took in the unsmiling face holding the door open as the bearded man contemplated us in turn. I held my breath; my legs felt like they were about to give way. I couldn’t walk another step. If this man didn’t take us in, I was going to sleep right here on his doorstep. I almost sobbed as he held the door open wider and took a step back, indicating we could come in.

“You had to land on my door,” he said under his breath

Devyn helped Marcus onto a seat before turning back to the large professor.

“You expected us?”

“Expected is a bit strong. We knew you had left Londinium. The whole Empire probably knows you three have left the city, though rumour has it you be dead. But I heard tell you be dead before; seems it don’t tend to stick. Figured there was a chance you might stop by. How many other friends do you have on the road north?” He spoke to Devyn, but he was still surveying Marcus and me, taking in our nondescript clothing, which was simple and neither recognisably Briton nor imperial in style.

“Are we friends?” Devyn challenged quietly.

“Can’t say that we are, my lad.” At this he grinned before sticking a hand out to me. “I expect we’ll stand here all day waiting for himself to introduce us. I’m Callum Reed.”

“Hi.” My hand was engulfed