Dark Haven (26 page)

A cheer went up as their sleigh glided into the main courtyard, and Carina was surprised to see dozens of people waiting by torchlight for their arrival. Jonmarc grinned and stepped from the sleigh, reaching up to give Carina a hand down. The small crowd clustered around them.

“May I present Lady Carina Vahanian,” Jonmarc said with pride, and Carina felt her cheeks color at the round of cheers. There was nothing scripted or staged about their welcome, and from the casual banter between Jonmarc and the well‐wishers, Carina was sure the gathering was as spontaneous as it was authentic. The crowd pressed forward to get a better look at their lord’s new bride. Those closest to Carina shook her hand in greeting and murmured blessings. While Jonmarc was completely at ease, Carina struggled with her healer’s magic that wavered between recognizing the mortals that glowed warm in her senses and the curious emptiness that marked the presence of the vayash moru. Carina had never been around 221

so many vayash moru at one time, not even in Riqua’s crypt, and the empty feeling was strange to the point of discomfort.

Jonmarc looked happier and more at ease than Carina ever recalled seeing him. He took her hand and ascended the broad outer staircase to Dark Haven’s main entrance. “Welcome home, Carina,” he said, and turned to kiss her. Silhouetted in the doorway, the kiss was a public declaration, and the crowd cheered even more loudly.

Gabriel followed them up the stairs, along with a man and a woman Carina did not recognize.

The man caught up with Gabriel as they reached the entrance hall, and Carina got a better look at both him and his companion. Both were clad in black, with dark hair, although the woman’s hair was streaked with gray. They lacked the pallor of the vayash moru, and her healer’s senses told her they were mortal—though not entirely human. The man was close to Jonmarc’s age, with shoulder‐length dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. The woman’s angular features were attractive, with a beauty that spoke of a blend of the local bloodlines. Carina met the woman’s violet eyes, and for a moment, the image of a large wolf came to her mind.

“This is Yestin and his partner, Eiria,” Gabriel said as both the newcomers made perfunctory bows. “You’ve seen them before on our journey.”

Carina gasped. “The vyrkin. Of course.”

Yestin grinned. “You kept quite a pace to follow. I think I ate twice my weight in deer meat trying to keep up!”

“Since Mikhail is with Tris at Shekerishet, Yestin is Gabriel’s second,” Jonmarc explained.

Eiria smiled at Carina, and Carina noted that she lacked the vayash moru’s long eye teeth.

“You’re most welcome, Lady Vahanian. News of your abilities has preceded you. It’s been a very long time since Dark Haven has had a healer of your skill. The villagers are anxious for you to 222

settle in.”

“I’ll be glad to do what I can once I get unpacked,” Carina murmured, surprised at the unexpected fame.

“Of course. And we need to recover from the journey as well.” Eiria rubbed her hands together, and Carina saw that they were badly chapped. “Snow is hard on the paws.”

“May I?” Carina reached out to take Eiria’s hands. In a moment, the red, raw skin healed beneath her touch. Yestin was unabashed about seeking the same favor.

“Thank you, m’lady,” Eiria said. “You do us a great honor. Many healers won’t touch our kind.”

“I would show disrespect to the Lady to withhold my gift,” Carina replied. Yet there had been something different in that touch, something Carina meant to ask Jonmarc about privately. But before she could think on it further, Laisren joined them.

“Good to see you again, m’lady,” Laisren greeted Carina, remembering her from Tris’s training in Principality. “Lord Gabriel asked me to arrange a real party for you tomorrow night, but there’s something of an impromptu gathering in the great room. Warm food and mulled wine for you mortals, and fresh goat’s blood for the rest of us. Come on!”

They followed the distant sound of music. She could easily spot the original sections of walls from those that had been recently repaired, and she marveled that so much had been done in just a few months. Many of the furnishings were old, and Carina guessed they were original to the manor. The newer pieces were functional, although their form spoke of the work of local craftsmen, and Carina was sure Gabriel had a hand in their selection. Tapestries lined some of the walls to keep down the chill, ornately patterned but without the common scenes of courtly tales or long‐ago battles. Notably absent were the paintings of ancestors that decorated most manors. Dark Haven’s decor was well‐made and functional, but as without ostentation as its 223

lord.

While the entrance hall and the rooms at the front of the manor had large windows, the great room was windowless. It took Carina a moment to realize that the manor house had been built to accommodate its mix of mortal and undead residents.

Carina was overwhelmed by the crowd of people, and noticed immediately that, unlike at most functions in a noble house, the guests at this impromptu party did not appear to be visiting nobility. They were trades people and prosperous farmers from the nearby village, as well as vayash moru, vyrkin, and the manor house staff. In the corner, three musicians who looked as if they’d been called on short notice from the village tavern struck up a lively round of pub tunes.

True to Laisren’s word, a spread of hearty food was set out on the long table: meat pies, mincemeat, rum‐heavy fruit cakes, sausages, cheese, and fresh baked bread. The room smelled of spiced wine and mulled cider. For the vayash moru, a generous number of flagons filled with goat’s blood clustered on one end of the table, along with platters of raw meat for the vyrkin.

“Let me introduce you to Cathel,‐” Jonmarc said “The finest silversmith in all of Dark Haven. He made your shevir.”

Cathel was a blond vayash moru who wore his long hair back in a neat queue. He gave a low bow and kissed the back of Carina’s hand. “It was a privilege, m’lady.”

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Carina said.

“Over the course of several lifetimes, one hopes to refine one’s skills.” Cathel drifted away into the crowd, and Jonmarc introduced Carina to a short man. His waistcoat was made of good cloth, but it nearly burst its buttons at his belly.

“This is Nidar. Nidar’s head of the winery guild,” Jonmarc said. “Before the last lord died, Dark Haven’s lands were well‐known for their wines. Without a lord, trade fell off and the vineyards 224

didn’t get the attention they needed. Nidar is getting the vineyards back up to production levels.

We may not have much of a crop next spring, but he’s promised me we’ll be back in the winemaking business by the following year.”

Carina smiled, welcoming the solidly built wine maker. She took Jonmarc’s arm and chuckled. “I don’t think I could have imagined this if you hadn’t told me. You, a business man, rebuilding the town trade!”

Carina could sense his pride and energy. “Wait until we ride out over the lands tomorrow. I’ll show you the prettiest holding in all of Principality. The vayash moru are just as interested in getting the property earning its keep as the mortals, and just as ready to hear a good business deal.”

Carina stretched up to kiss him. “You never stop surprising me.” “I never plan to stop.”

When the last of the guests left around the eleventh hour, Jorimarc escorted Carina to their suite. “These were the first rooms we rebuilt,” Jonmarc said, swinging open the door. A small sitting room separated bedrooms for the lord and lady of the manor. Jonmarc’s room was comfortable and simple, with a large four‐poster bed, a writing desk, and . an armoire, all in the ornately carved style of the local craftsmen. Two comfortable chairs sat near the wide hearth. In one corner, Jonmarc’s leather and scale armor stood ready on a form, while the wall above the mantle held a variety of interesting, and very useful, swords, knives, and crossbows. An odd contraption lay on the desk, a fitting of leather straps and a single arrow.

“What’s that?” Carina asked with a nod toward the item on the desk.

“Insurance.”

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The sitting room had its own fireplace, making it comfortably warm despite the bitter chill outside. Large chairs, side tables, and a settee furnished the room, along with a table for card games or dice. Only one painting hung on its walls, a seascape.

“Gabriel gave me the painting as a gift when we moved back into the manor. It’s the Northern Sea, near where I grew up” Jonmarc took Carina’s hand and led her to the next door.

“And this is your room. I hope you like it.”

Carina gasped. The bedroom was a soothing mix of green and yellow, and it smelled of fresh herbs and dried flowers. Its curtained bed was smaller than the massive one in Jonmarc’s room.

Near the window, where the light would be best, a work table was set up with a mortar and pestle. Along one wall, a small library of books hugged built‐in shelves, and a wide variety of dried plants hung near the fireplace. Plenty of candles and a large chair by the fire completed the room. Her bags and trunks were stored near the far wall.

“It’s wonderful,” Carina said, her eyes brimming with tears.

“It’s got everything you need,” Jonmarc’s eyes glinted wickedly. “Although there’s room enough for two in my quarters.”

“M’lady. May I be of service?” The voice startled Carina and she turned.

“This is Lisette.” Tall and red haired, Lisette looked like a young woman in her early twenties, but the vayash morn’s eyes told of lifetimes. “Lisette is your lady’s maid, guide, and general companion to keep you out of trouble when I’m out on the lands.”

“I’ll be very glad for your help.”

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“We’re so pleased to have a Lady of the manor once again,” Lisette said. “It’s been far too long. If you need me, ring the bell. I’ll hear. Just remember—not in daylight!”

Lisette left them alone, and Jonmarc folded Carina into his arms. “So what do you think?”

Carina smiled and laid her head against his chest. “I think it’s beautiful. And I think Dark Haven is amazing. Especially its lord.”

Jonmarc kissed her, and Carina returned it with equal fervor. “It’s good to be home.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Early the next morning, Jonmarc and Carina rode out from the manor house. The rolling hills were covered with snow under an overcast sky. Wind rustled through the bare trees. “Over there,” Jonmarc said, pointing to the far left, “you can see the vineyards. Not too long ago, their wines were the pride of Principality. Nidar and I want to make that true again. Down there’s the town of Dark Haven. Mortals and vayash morn live and work together here—and they intermarry. More than a few ghosts around, too. If Tris ever makes it back this way, he’ll have a crowd waiting.”

Carina’s horse snuffled in the cold. She tucked her cloak closer around herself, shielding her face 227

from the wind. “That’s going to take some getting used to,” she confessed.

“Vayash moru feel different to a healer. They’re not alive and they’re not dead. They’re—

empty.”

“I’ve had a few months to get used to it myself. Most of the time I don’t think about being food.”

“There was something odd last night, when I healed Eiria’s hands. Even being vyrkin, her life force didn’t feel right.”

“Eiria doesn’t have much time left. Riqua told me that Shifters eventually get stuck in their other form. When that happens, they die or go mad. Eiria’s starting to lose control” over when she shifts. Yestin doesn’t say anything, but you can see it in his eyes when he looks at her. They’ve been together a long time. The problem with the Flow makes it worse.”

Carina turned to him. “I’m surprised to hear you talk about the Flow. I thought that was just the Sisterhood.”

“Yeah, well I was ready to leave it to the witch biddies until I started living on top of it. I can’t feel it—at least, not like you or Tris can—but from what everyone says, even the non‐magic users get affected after a while. It runs right beneath Dark Haven—that’s how the last lord was killed, when Arontala stole that damned Soulcatcher orb. He warped the Flow, and since then, nothing’s been quite the same, not the land, nor the livestock, nor the crops.”

“I felt something odd last night, but I was so tired, I figured it was the long ride.”

“That’s one reason why our rooms are on the top floor, in the far wing. Gabriel and I thought it was a good idea to keep both of us as far away from it as possible.”

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Jonmarc smiled. “Maynard Linton stopped by just before Gabriel and I headed for Mar‐golan. I told him about what we’re trying to do, and I took him down to the village to see the crafts people. Potters, glass blowers, and some of the best weavers outside of Noor. Not to mention the vayash moru goldsmiths and sword smiths. I haven’t seen Linton that excited in a long time.

Seems he’s been itching to get back on the caravan trail now that Jared’s gone. Plans to keep his ties to the river as well. So he put in a big order and he’ll be back at the thaw to pick it up. Wants to trade it on the main caravan route plus down the Nu to Jolie’s Place. That alone will go a long way toward putting some gold in the townspeople’s pockets. Enough for them to rebuild their herds and make some improvements.” “I knew you weren’t the average mercenary.” “I used to watch my father do his accounts every month. He ran a very successful forge, and mother’s weaving brought customers from all over the Borderlands. If accounts were good at month’s end, we roasted a goat or a lamb. If things were tight, all we got was chicken. We had four boys in the family—we did everything we could to make it a goat month.” He looked out over the windswept hills. Snow glistened in the air; the winds dusted it up until it shone in the cold winter sun.

“I think they’d approve, if they could see Dark Haven,” he said wistfully. “My mother and father.

Been a lot of years that I hoped the dead couldn’t see me. After being around Tris, I know they could. But now, maybe I’ve started to make up for all that.”

Carina reached out to take his gloved hand. “You’re the one who told me that the dead forgive us.”