More Than Meets the Eye

Chapter Fifty-Three

Dáin's fortress was similar to Erebor and his valet, Nuranul looked over at Thorin and said, "If you'll come with me, Your Highness, I'll show you to your chambers."

Thorin scooped up his cloak and followed the valet down the remainder of the hall, to a stone staircase. At the top, they went left, down another hallway, and finally, at the last door on the right, Nuranul stopped. "Right here."

Thorin bobbed his head in thanks and stepped into the room. A quick sweep to make certain he was alone, and then he dropped his bag on the floor, hung his cloak on a hook just inside the door, and sank into another chair.

Rain pounded relentlessly on the windowpanes. The candles in their sconces flickered to create shadows along the stone walls. The drops hitting the panes of glass were the only sounds in the room, and the silence pressed in on him. It had been a long time since he'd been completely alone. He'd gotten far too used to the sounds of fatherhood: Tiriana scrunching around in her cradle, her coos and sighs of contentment when she slept, the gurgles and laughs that arose when she was awake. He'd become far too accustomed to married life—missed Arielle being no more than a shout away. He missed how she would sidle up behind him, slip her arms about his waist, and press a kiss into his bare back as he washed in the morning or readied for bed at night. He missed looking over at her in the courtyard and watching how the sunlight played out on her dark hair, or of waking before her and just watching her sleep. He missed the sound of her laughter in the dark as he sank against her and she wrapped him in her arms, the gentle whisper of her, 'Maralmizu, Thorin,' when they made love. He was worried, leaving her to possibly face bad news with Tiriana. She was a strong woman, but he should be there with her, and not having to chase after this waste of space of a dwarf.

A knock came at the door and he moved over. "Who goes there?"

"Me, you ugly fool."

He tugged open the door at Dáin's gruff reply. "Have you found her yet?"

Dáin didn't smile as he came into the room bearing two tankards and a large bottle. "Not yet. My men are looking for her. Someone must've seen you comin' and told her, for her cottage by the lake is empty."

He then glanced at the door and nodded toward it. "Close that damned door, will you? I'd rather not be overheard by anyone."

Thorin rolled his eyes, but moved to close the door just the same. He didn't wish to be overhead by anyone, either. He had no way of knowing how many of Dáin's men Belle had won over and that someone apparently warned her as it was didn't sit well with him at all, either.

As he spoke, Dáin moved to set the tankards and bottle on the table, then went to work wrestling the stopper from the bottle. He filled both tankards with golden mead, and pressed one toward him. "So, tell me, Cousin, what happened?"

Thorin sank into his chair with a sigh. "I talked Arielle into bringing on a nanny for the baby and that nanny nearly killed her."

"How?"

"She fed Tiri honey and gave her botulism poisoning."

Dáin's jaw went slack. "Are ye foolin' me?"

"Do I look as if I am?" Thorin lifted his tankard for a swallow, then lowered it. "And when I confronted her about it, she said Belle put her up to it. Said she'd come to me and accuse Brena of being behind the whole bloody thing."

"Aye, she's a sneaky one, that Miss Caisys. Flitted about here for weeks before comin' to see ye last year, boastin' to anyone who'd listen how she'd be the next queen of Erebor." Dáin drank deeply, then plunked his tankard down to refill it. "She hated being wrong about that. And when we saw who ye'd thrown her over for, not a one of us could blame ye."