The sensation of her holding him close was still on his mind when he woke up the next day. Just the memory alone made him feel warm in the cool morning air. That, and the recognition that she trusted him to touch her.
He rose and stretched out his arms above his head. He'd been so starved for her touch. Now he only wanted more. Can the afternoon please hurry up and come?
He then recalled the show he'd given her beforehand, and he cringed and grinned at the same time. Oh man, how embarrassing. And how delightful. He'd meant every move, every moment of his submission, and despite his surface vexation, he knew that deep down he was unashamed -- no, he was glad she's seen him like that. Seen right into him, and enjoyed what she saw. Some elation, light and airy, filled his insides; and also a confidence that he could give back to her the happiness that she gave to him. He wanted to get to her the same way she's gotten to him; he felt that she'd enjoy that very much. Besides, the girl needed to be shown her place a bit. Who does she think she is, bossing people around like that? Alright, well, she's a princess. Who's saving his life. Yeah, but, like, besides that? Yeah, exactly.
Maybe, before this is over, they'd have a chance to be with each other without any iron in the way. Maybe...
He looked around him. The cell was still and quiet, as was its habit. His thoughts were brought back to the present.
He was getting somewhat worried about the whole Dodo thing. Now that he'd been given so much hope for an escape, the thought of dying here after all was unbearable, a million times worse than before. But just like Gabrielle, he was also convinced that there must be some solution. Just gotta think.
He thought and thought, but the dungeon's bare walls refused to provide any inspiration. He shook his head and dug out Gabrielle's book from the straw. Maybe a fight with letters would get his brain going.
The problem with writing, he now came to think, is that the Harmeni have adapted Gebran letters, which had been invented for a completely different language. Now, in order to encode most of the sounds, they had to use some ridiculous compounds of the signs that made very little sense if you thought about it. It was a miracle the good people of Harmen ever managed to convey any meaning at all.
Still, the runic script of Kontaria and the Gebran alphabet did share some ancestry, far gone in the murk of history, and many signs were recognisable. He was making a good progress. He was pretty sure he could understand almost every sentence on the first page.
Having amused himself like that for some time, he now took out the mirror and jumped up to the window. Carefully, cradling it in his hands not to reflect any light to the courtyard, he turned it skywards. The silvery glass turned an intense blue, and in this blue Aerin saw again some scattered small clouds very high above. He smiled.
He stowed away the mirror and just swayed lazily, hugging the bars. It would still be hours until she came. He looked out to the garden, where a light breeze sometimes ruffled the grass and the tiny field flowers hidden within it. They were the same kinds that grew in Kontaria, and he knew all their names. Daisies, buttercups, clovers, nothing unusual. A bit more interesting were the plants purposefully planted there in neat beds. It didn't take a lot of brains to realize they had been selected for medicinal, rather than ornamental, purposes. Celandine, yarrow, anise. Foxglove, lumbering bumblebees fumbling around it. There were chamomiles, swaying white on stiff stalks. There was peppermint, discreet and unassuming. There was an elderberry bush under a poplar tree; and for a moment a gust of wind moved its branches away, revealing a smaller bush behind, which was—
Oh shit!
His forehead hit the bars as he lunged forward to get a better look, but now the breeze was gone, and the branches of the elderberries slouched back to their normal place, hiding the object of his sudden attention. He craned his head, waited for the wind to pick up, tried the other window; to no avail now -- the elderberries were obstinate, merciless and obscuring. He dropped down and walked impatiently around the cell. If that bush he glimpsed was what he thought it was... He bounced the implications around in his head. Yes! Perfect! He shouted for joy to the stone walls, but then tried to calm himself down. He had to make sure. Gabrielle, hurry the fuck up!
*
This was, apparently, his lucky day -- Gabrielle freed herself from her obligations several hours earlier than usual. The three friars were still in an awful mood, so the discussion again was mostly limited to listening to Valdemar bemoan the loss of valour and courage and the old ways, etc. etc. etc. It was not long after noon that she entered the garden, humming joyfully, another excuse book in her hand. The day was hot, Behem's old walls parching slowly in the sun, and curling up in the shadowy window niche next to Aerin seemed to her like just the perfect way to spend it.
She thought with pleasure how surprised he'd be to see her so early. Yet it was her who was surprised when, upon her coming to the window, she saw his face, wide eyed, rise up rapidly to the bars.
"Gabrielle! Do you see that elderberry bush over there?" he said urgently, without any greetings. She turned around and saw the shrub, under an old poplar.
"Yeah?"
"Okay, there's another bush behind it. Bring me a twig from it, with leaves and berries, quick!"
She looked at him, confused. What got into him?
Nonetheless she walked to the elderberries. There was, indeed, an inconspicuous shrub right beside them. She knelt to it. It grew small, pale leaves and sprouted small, red berries, bunched in neat rows on stalks that shot off its branches. She wasn't sure what this plant was -- it looked much the same as any other berry bush. She broke off one twig a couple inches long and brought it back to Aerin, who snatched it out of her hand. She sat down in the niche, struck by his expression.
He looked at the little branch transfixed. He then took one berry, broke its skin with his nail, and smelled it. A broad, triumphant smile broke over his face.
"Oh fuck me," he said.
"Gladly," she replied, "but what is this?"
"This, Gabrielle," he said, swinging the branch around and looking up at her, "is wickwort." He burst out laughing at her blank expression, and took a moment to continue. "It has one use, only one use. The juice from the berries is a painkiller, in small doses. Up until a spoonful, say. If you take any more than that, the side-effects start.
"It starts messing with your head. You fall into a trance and sit down, for hours, staring at nothing and drooling all over yourself. People see the world in colours like the northern lights, they think that elves and gods and demons are talking to them, they barely register what's going on around them. And all of this would be pretty neat and people would probably be growing this thing just for that, except the next day there's consequences -- well, basically you shit torrential shits and throw up for the whole day, and you wish you were dead."
Now she wrenched the twig away from him and stared at the berries. "Okay. Okay! So if I can feed this to Dodo, do you think—"
"Yes!"
"He would just sit here and not notice me sneaking you past?"
"Gabrielle, he would barely notice a horse clop up to him and kick him in the balls!"
"Shit! And will it last the whole night?"
He tapped the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Yeah, that could be a problem. "It definitely would if you could get a draught of wickwort, not the fresh thing. Basically, if you stow away the berry paste for several months in an oak cask it grows a lot more potent. The monks must be doing this if they're growing wickwort at all, that's how it's always administered."
She thought about it. "Alright, so it's a painkiller. Maybe they're giving it to the wounded soldiers, I could get in the infirmary and—"
"Nah, it's not really used for wounds. More like, internal pain. Back ache, menstrual cramps..."
She suddenly knew. "Migraines?"
"Yeah, exactly."
"Paula gets migraines. And she does take something for them, she's mentioned that! If I can get into her room..."
"Hey, don't take extra risks..."
"Shut it, I won't be. She's rarely there during the day, it would just be a little tricky to get in and out without any servants noticing..." She squinted and recalled to herself the chamber. Paula occasionally invited people to talk there in privacy, and Gabrielle had the dubious honour several times, mostly during her first week at Behem. She remembered the small table with plush chairs where she sat with dread, the creepy massive bed with black canopy and black linens, an equally massive and dark wooden wardrobe, and a small cabinet by the bedside... she closed her eyes. Yes, she was pretty sure there were some flasks on the cabinet. "Yeah, I think I know exactly where she keeps it. How much do we need?"
"Well, for Dodo's size... take as much as you can, works the same whether you overdose a little or a lot."
She popped a berry open herself and smelled it. It had a strong, distinct smell, a lot like aniseed.
She saw it clear now. She'd wait hidden outside of the dungeon and wait for someone from the kitchens to deliver the two bowls. When Dodo goes down to bring Aerin his meal, she'd slip in, pour the drought over Dodo's food, and get out -- half a minute exploit. With Dodo knocked out, there would be plenty of time to get Aerin in the cart. By the time anyone notices he's gone, he's safely away. She'll tie a rope to a wall somewhere to make it look like he escaped by foot. By the time they finish searching the castle and running around its surroundings with dogs, he'll be in Kontaria. Dodo will have a bad next day, but Pelagius will recognize his symptoms -- and Paula too, she must have been warned -- so this will get him off the hook. Then they may start investigating who helped Aerin, but what proof is there to implicate Gabrielle? Not a damn thing.
This was it. A working, doable escape plan. She looked at him, astonished.
"Aerin, we got it!"
"Yeah!"
She beamed. "Come here!"
She leaned in and gave him a bar-crossed kiss, and delighted herself with his presence, his closeness, their hands reaching out; and the kiss again led to caresses, touches, rubs and messing up of hair, which went on for quite a good amount of time. Then, eventually, when they felt that have had enough, they just stayed where there were, with arms across the grille and laid on each other.
"Gabrielle?"
