Mist-Torn Witches 02:Witches in Red (27 page)

A realization hit him. “This is over. Once we hunt down the last beast, this is finished. You’ve done it.”

They had succeeded, and Anton would be able to report to his father that the issue was resolved and the silver would soon be flowing again. Jaromir felt an emotion he couldn’t explain, something beyond gratitude.

“Amelie, you were right back at the castle. You deserve . . . something for what you’ve done here. If there is there is anything I can do, anything I can give you, tell me.”

At first she was quiet, and then she said, “There is.”

Within a few sentences, she explained to him what she wanted. As he listened, he didn’t completely understand why she would ask for such a thing, but it made him love her more.

“Will you arrange it?” she asked.

“Yes.”

T
he next day, Jaromir walked through the soldiers’ encampment toward Keegan’s tent. He was still having some difficulty believing that Rurik, Marcus, and Céline had managed to take down the last wolf by themselves, but . . . the beast was dead, and Quinn was dead, and Jaromir still had a number of loose ends to tie up.

That morning, he’d sent out two messengers on horseback.

First, he’d sent Rurik back to Castle Sèone with a letter to Anton—along with some strict stipulations. Jaromir had not yet decided what to do about Rurik in the long run, but he was convinced that the young guardsman was no traitor and had thought himself to be working in the best interests of Anton. Of course, Rurik could never be allowed to function as a messenger between Anton and Prince Lieven again, but in their current situation, Jaromir didn’t have anyone else to send home, so he’d sent Rurik. First, though, he’d made the guardsman promise to deliver the letter to Anton and then stay put. He was not to leave Castle
Sèone or take a message to Prince Lieven for any reason. Jaromir had made it blindingly clear that Rurik’s future in Sèone depended on him following this order. Rurik had agreed and thanked him.

Second, Jaromir had commissioned a Pählen soldier to carry a letter to Prince Lieven.

And now . . . Jaromir arrived at the tent of Captain Keegan, and he paused at the doorway. A part of him was looking forward to the conversation about to take place, and a part of him was dreading it.

Walking in, he made his way toward the back.

“Captain?” he called before stepping around the last tapestry.

“Here.”

Continuing on, Jaromir found Keegan alone and sitting up in bed. He’d been carried back and settled the night before, and now he seemed able to eat and drink on his own, though he was still weak, and according to Céline, he would be for some time.

But his expression was a mix of caution and anxiety, and Jaromir wondered how much he’d been told.

“So it was Quinn,” Keegan said flatly.

Well, he’d been told that much.

“Yes, and he was working in the employ of Prince Damek.”

As those words sank in, Keegan’s left hand began to shake.

Jaromir pulled a chair over beside the bed and sat down. “I sent a letter to Prince Lieven this morning.”

“You?” The anxiety on Keegan’s face grew more pronounced.

“You’re not in any state to take command here. I’ve volunteered to remain here until your replacement arrives.”

Keegan just watched him uncertainly, most likely wondering where this was going.

Jaromir leaned back. “You needn’t worry. I didn’t tell your lord much. Only that the issue has been solved, the silver will be flowing again soon, that you’ve been taken seriously ill, and that I’ll maintain command for now, but that a new contingent and commander must be sent as soon as possible.”

“That’s all you told him?”

“Prince Lieven has never been one to press for details. He cares about results.” Jaromir paused. “And so long as you agree to a request I’m about to make, I’ll ensure he doesn’t learn anything more.”

“What request?”

“I want you to release the Móndyalítko men from their contracts and pay them their full year’s wage now. By my count, it’s only six or seven men, not enough to matter to the workforce. I’ve sent word to Prince Anton to send an escort here to take us home once your replacement has arrived and we’re ready to leave. In my letter, I also asked him to send four extra horses. You’ll let me pick four horses from your barn, for a total of eight, to pull the Móndyalítko wagons.”

Keegan’s mouth fell open. If Jaromir had just made an offer of marriage, the man could not have been more stunned. “Pay them their full . . . four horses? Are you mad? No! We need every worker back in the mines. Those gypsies aren’t going anywhere.”

Jaromir raised an eyebrow. “Truly? Then I’ll be forced to let it slip to Prince Lieven that you had a spy of Prince Damek’s at your side for a year, and you never suspected a thing. I’ll let it slip that your incompetence is the reason so many of your men are dead and the silver stopped flowing.”

Keegan glared at him in open hatred. “That’s a pointless threat. Once your prince learns the truth, he’ll be only too glad to tell his father.”

“You don’t know Prince Anton. While I may not always agree, he feels strongly about never tattling on his brother even when deaths are involved or on the few occasions when Damek has tried to assassinate him.” Jaromir shrugged. “Perhaps he’s right. As I mentioned . . . Prince Lieven is not normally interested in details, just results.” He leaned forward. “But unless you agree to my small request, I’ll find a way to make sure a few of those details reach his ears.”

“Take the horses,” Keegan spat. “And those filthy gypsies. But keep in mind, they’ve got no place to go.”

“You let me worry about that.” Jaromir stood up. “I think we’re done here.”

* * *

That afternoon, Amelie and Céline walked over to the miners’ encampment to see Mercedes.

After knocking on the door of the largest wagon, they both went inside to find Mercedes at home and Marcus stretched out on one of the back beds. Mariah was nowhere to be seen.

“Leave the door open,” Marcus said. “I like the air.”

Amelie thought he looked a little pale, but that was
probably to be expected. Céline had been up late tending to his wounds, including stitching up his shoulder.

Mercedes was studying Céline. “So . . . you’ll be leaving soon?” She sounded regretful.

“That’s what we came to talk to you about,” Céline responded, and then she turned to Amelie. “Maybe you should . . . ?”

Amelie gathered her thoughts and positioned herself so that she could speak to both Mercedes and Marcus. “You have been very helpful to us these past few days, and Jaromir sent us with an offer.” She thought it might sound less like charity if it came from him. “There’s a plot of land outside the walls of Castle Sèone that has gone untended for several years. The tenants decamped to try their luck with a vendor’s cart in Enêmûsk. It has a cottage and a small barn. If your family would like . . . you can live there and work the land. Half the crops will go to Prince Anton, and you’ll keep the other half to sell or use for your own purposes.” For a moment, she kept her focus on Mercedes. “I know it would be a different way of life for you, but some of Prince Anton’s tenants have become quite prosperous, depending on which crops they grow.”

Mercedes stood with her eyes shifting back and forth as if she was trying to follow something she didn’t quite understand.

“But we couldn’t make the journey until late autumn, when the men’s contracts are finished. And what about our wagons?” she said. “How would we get there?”

“That’s all been taken care of. Jaromir has spoken
with Captain Keegan. Your men have been released from their contracts and will be paid their year’s wage. You’ll be supplied with eight horses, so you can drive the wagons out of here. All of your people have been given leave, including the wives of your younger men. You needn’t leave anyone behind.”

Mercedes sank onto the bed beside Marcus.

“But you don’t have to accept the land,” Céline put in quickly. “If you’d rather not turn to farming, you’ll still be released from your contracts, you’ll be paid, and you can keep the horses.”

“If you do decide to take Jaromir’s offer of the land,” Amelie said, “you can come with us when we leave. We’ll take you into Sèone Village first to get you supplied. But there’s no rush on a decision. We’re stuck here until Keegan’s replacement arrives. You have time to think.”

Mercedes turned to Marcus, and they locked eyes. Then she turned back to Amelie. “We don’t need time to think. None of our people will. We’re coming with you.”

Footsteps sounded in the open doorway, and Mariah appeared . . . with young Graham standing behind her.

“Coming where?” Mariah asked.

“Home,” Amelie answered. “You’re coming home with us.”

J
ust over three weeks later, in the late afternoon, Jaromir led a contingent of seventeen of his own men, two seers, and four Móndyalítko wagons back inside the inner gates of Sèone.

He’d never been so glad to see the familiar village.

Without stopping, he led the wagons to an open area out behind the smithy where there was enough room for the families to make camp. He figured they’d need some time to rest and buy supplies for winter, and then he could take them out and show them the homestead.

Once the wagons were pulling into position, he dismissed his men, and he watched Céline slide down from her saddle and hand her mare off to one of the guards. Amelie was already on the ground, helping Mercedes to back her team of horses into place.

Jaromir dismounted as well, standing beside Céline and watching Amelie work. They were both quiet for a while, and then Céline looked up at him.

“I know the prince is waiting for a more detailed report . . . but could I give mine tomorrow? I want to go
and check on the shop and see my own things and sleep in my own bed.”

He paused. He knew Anton would be waiting for a full report, but this was the first thing Céline had asked of him since Ryazan. He owed her at least one night’s rest.

“Of course. I’ll give him my report tonight, and that should be sufficient for now.”

“Thank you.”

Amelie was now helping to unharness a team of horses and talking with Mercedes. Then Mariah and Graham came around the side of the wagon to help. Back in Ryazan, young Graham had asked to be permanently released from duty so he could travel here with Mariah, and it hadn’t taken Jaromir long to get Keegan to agree.

“You’ve done a good thing here,” Céline said.

“It was Amelie’s idea. When I asked her what she wanted, this was it.”

“Yes, but you agreed. You made it happen.”

He had, hadn’t he?

“Well, it looks like Amelie is going to be here awhile,” he said. “Can I give you a ride home?”

“No.” She smiled weakly and put both hands to her back. “I’d much rather walk.”

He nodded and watched her leave. She was an astonishing woman, much stronger than she looked.

Then his gaze shifted back to Amelie as she climbed up on top of a wagon, unlashed a wooden box, and dropped it down into Mercedes’s waiting arms.

Amelie.

She’d borrowed some spare clothes and was now back in breeches—with the pant legs rolled up—and a man’s shirt, and she appeared much more comfortable. He’d never known anyone like her, all fire and flint and softness at the same time. She could be incredibly selfish in one moment and astoundingly giving in the next.

A strong urge hit him to climb up on top of that wagon and help her unload, to do nothing more than work by her side and spend the rest of the afternoon helping her to get these people settled.

But he turned away, leading his horse up toward the castle. He had a report to give.

* * *

Not long past sunset, Céline was in her shop, dusting out bowls and getting her tools ready to begin work again. She’d been gone for some time, and the herb garden would need tending.

Amelie hadn’t come home yet.

Though Céline relished the respite of solitude, she wasn’t completely on her own. Her orange cat, Oliver—who was normally not demonstrative—was so pleased to see her that he continued rubbing against her legs. A bowl on the floor near the door contained water and another held the remnants of fresh milk. Céline thought that she must do something special for Erin for having tended to him for so long.

However, Oliver’s rubbing soon began to make her feel guilty. Though he’d been cared for while she was away, had he been lonely?

“Yes, I’m glad to see you, too.” She patted the top of
the worktable. “Come up here for a while. Just don’t knock over the candles.”

He jumped up, this time trying to press his face against her hands.

In a way, his attention was a welcome distraction, as it kept her mind from drifting back to all that she and Amelie had been forced to see in Ryazan. As before, she thought it might take a little time to recover.

Tomorrow, she would need to go up to the castle and give her report to Anton. Though she welcomed the prospect of seeing his face, the last thing she wanted to do was relive those early days and nights in the mining camp.

The door to the shop opened, and she looked over in mild annoyance. Of course the people here must have missed their apothecary, but she’d just returned, and who would come at this hour?

A man in a cloak, with his hood pulled up, stepped inside and closed the door. He carried a muslin bag in his left hand.

“I’m sorry,” Céline said. “I won’t be open until tomorrow afternoon at the soonest.”

Reaching up with his free hand, he pulled back his hood, exposing a pale face and dark brown hair.

“My lord . . . ,” she stammered. “I didn’t know . . .”

It was Anton. Had he walked down through the village?

“Don’t distress yourself,” he said. “Jaromir has told me everything that happened in Ryazan, and I couldn’t wait to see you, to thank you.”

She watched him come closer, and she had no idea what to say.

“You accomplished something that no one else could,” he went on, “and you did it in my name. My father is pleased.”

Yes, Céline thought, that had been the reason for all their efforts: to please Anton’s father.

He lifted the bag he was carrying and set it on the table. “I feared insulting you by offering you money or jewels. I know you and Amelie did all this for me and the future of Droevinka. Jaromir told me what Amelie had requested, but that you requested nothing. I wanted . . . I wanted to do something.” Opening the top of the bag, he exposed a thorny vine sitting in dirt. “It’s a velveteen rosebush from Belaski. Helga says that you once told her the petals would make the strongest cough syrup of any rosebush you know, and she also told me that you did not have one.“

By now, he was standing close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek . . . standing too close, really. But, shaken by his thoughtful gesture, she couldn’t take her gaze off the vine. A velveteen rosebush.

“Jaromir told me that you need to rest and recover. Don’t bother coming to offer a report. I know what I need to know, and I won’t ask anything further of you.”

Though she was beyond touched that he’d come down here, by his words, by his thoughtful gift, by his manner . . . by his concern, they both knew this was only a reprieve.

“Until something else happens and you need my abilities?” she whispered.

“Céline,” he breathed back and started to reach out
for her hand. His hand stopped in midair, and he took a step away. “Again, I cannot thank you enough.”

He didn’t respond to her question. He didn’t need to.

Still, looking up at him, looking around her shop, she found that she didn’t mind.

When he called her again, she’d
answer.