Summers at Castle Auburn (25 page)

I took a deep breath and released it. “Elisandra,” I said.

He nodded. “Precisely.”

“You don't want her to marry Bryan.”

“If she doesn't, the whole realm is in jeopardy. The alliances shift and the power base grows unstable. More unstable than it already is.”

I repeated, “You don't want her to marry Bryan.”

“If she does, she will be so unhappy she will die.”

“You love her,” I said, as I had that night at the ball. “You always have.”

He looked down at me. “We have been each other's only friends for so long. It's true that's a kind of love. I don't know what to do to save her.”

“From Bryan?”

He gestured. “From any of her choices. I don't know that there is any way to make Elisandra safe.”

Now, suddenly, though the sun had risen and my dress had started to dry, I was cold to my bones. She had known of Tiatza's condition; she had known, I was sure, of Bryan's petty flirtations and perhaps his more serious ones over the past several years. She had never said, in all the years I had been coming to Castle Auburn,
that she loved Bryan. I had always assumed she had, because I had assumed that everyone did.

But she did not love him, and she did not want to marry him, and unlike me, she had no choices.

“You could marry her,” I said suddenly. “That would keep her safe.”

He smiled bitterly. “It would enrage Bryan—and my father—and half the lords of Auburn, who have no marriageable daughters to offer in her place. It would cause a furor like nothing you have ever seen.”

I shrugged. “Don't stay to see it. Take her back to those estates of yours.”

He considered me. “And leave the realm in turmoil?”

“If it will keep Elisandra happy.”

“Is the happiness of one person worth the chaos of the kingdom?”

“
I
think so.”

He shook his head. “I have to think in larger scales.”

I flounced away from him. “Then I have no use for you.”

“Corie—”

I skipped ahead and would not turn back to talk to him. No more promenading around the fountain for me, either; catching up my satchel and shoes, I ran toward the broad steps of the castle. He caught up with me, still talking earnestly, but I would not listen. I stripped off his jacket as I strode along, and nearly flung it at him over my shoulder.

Abruptly at the foot of the grand stairwell, and heedless of the alert guards at the top of the steps who could hear every word, I stopped and addressed him.

“I will counsel her to do whatever it takes to be free of you and this place—to find happiness,” I said. “As for me—do not for a minute think I will do what I am told. Your stupid father guessed wrong about me. Yes—and you did, too.”

With that, I picked up my damp skirts, ran up the stairs, and fled into the castle.

* * *

I
SPENT THE
whole day sleeping, and had a tray sent up for dinner. The result was that Elisandra came looking for me after the meal. She was dressed in her dinner clothes, all black and silver, and she looked like the spirit of the night come down to earth to visit with mortals.

“Are you unwell?” she asked, sitting beside me on the bed. I was spooning up the last of my strawberries and reading a romance. The day had been in such marked contrast to my efforts and arguments of the night before that I actually felt rested and happy.

“No,” I said. “Just wanting to be alone for a while.”

“I'll go, then.”

“Not alone from
you,
” I said, stretching out a hand to keep her in place. “I have not seen you all day.”

She settled back on the bed. “You've been sleeping all day.”

“So, did anything interesting happen while I was in bed?”

“I had a long talk with Kent. That was interesting enough.”

“And he told you about Tiatza?”

She nodded. “Among other things.”

“You knew about her. About the baby.”

“A lot of people did. Matthew was furious. But you cannot stop a baby from coming.”

I could, for I knew the poisons that would react against conception, but I did not say so. “What happens to her now? And the child?”

“She'll be sent off to one of Matthew's estates. The boy will go with her. I imagine they'll monitor him pretty closely as he grows up. It's really up to Bryan what becomes of him in the future. Maybe he'll call the boy to court, give him a title. Maybe not.”

I said fiercely, “I hate him for this. I hate Bryan.”

Elisandra gazed at me sadly. “It is common for kings and princes to sire bastards.”

“And not only royalty.”

Like Kent, she looked as if she had forgotten, for a moment, what I was. “True.”

I narrowed my eyes, watching her. “You must hate him, too.”

She gestured helplessly. “Not for this.”

“There are enough other reasons.”

“I cannot afford to hate him.”

I reached out a hand to place on her arm. “There must be some way for you to escape this trap—”

She laughed and covered my hand with hers. “Corie, do not be so dramatic. I'll be fine. I know exactly what to expect and what to do. I can take care of myself.”

“But I—”

She patted my hand and then stood up. “There's no change that comes by discussing it,” she said gently. “Now,
I
need sleep even though
you
do not. And maybe you'll be awake some part of tomorrow. We could go riding.”

“That sounds like fun,” I said in a hollow voice, as I watched her leave. Soon I tried to sleep, but could not. I spent the next day worried, perplexed, and on edge. Not until we went riding late in the afternoon did I cheer up, and then only for a few hours.

 

T
HE NEXT FEW
weeks flew by, golden summer days growing shorter and brisker as the season advanced. I spent my time much as I already had up to this point, with one exception: I was more in demand as a witch and healer, for word had gotten out about my ministrations to Tiatza. I did not mind this at all, of course, though I was surprised at some of my clients: Greta needed a tisane to cure a headache, Daria wanted a draught to help her sleep, Marian's mother was looking for a potion to ease a recurring cramp in her left leg. I charged everyone a small fee and gloated at my superiority to Milette, who was still stirring stews and tonics over my grandmother's fire.

Jaxon returned to the castle for a few days, looking as gaunt and abstracted as a burly man could look. Elisandra invited him up to her sitting room two afternoons in a row, where she fed him kitchen delicacies and made him promise to watch his health. Her sober concern made him smile and tease her, but it was not his old, hearty style; I did not hear him laugh once during his whole visit. I took care to wear my ruby necklet at the dinners he attended. He smiled
painfully when he saw me and told me how beautiful I looked, but he did not seem to care how any of my own courtships were progressing. He asked me no questions and set up no more introductions, at least from what I was able to determine. This pleased me well enough, but I had to admit to some concern for him.

Though I was happy if it was his own black history that was causing him wretched nights. At any rate, he did not mention any more forays into the forest to hunt for prey, and I wondered if his conscience was troubling him after his last wild abduction.

He had planned to stay a full week, but he left two days early after a bitter argument with Matthew. Angela supplied me with that news, and was even able to conjecture as to the cause.

“I think they might have quarreled over the baby,” she whispered. We were in her room, and not even Marian was nearby, but both of us felt compelled to keep our voices low.

“What—Tiatza's baby?” I whispered back.

She nodded. “The regent wanted Jaxon to take her—and the boy—to Halsing Manor, but Jaxon wouldn't do it. Said he didn't have enough men on his property to keep the boy safe.” She sent her blue gaze glancing around the room again, and spoke in even softer tones. “As if he thought someone might try to steal the bastard away.”

“So, then—what becomes of him? Of her?”

Angela shrugged. “I guess they'll be sent somewhere else.”

And indeed, not three days later, a small caravan set out from the castle for the Ouvrelet estates on the western edge of the Auburn province, and Tiatza and her son were in one of the carriages. Half the inhabitants of the castle, or so it seemed, turned out to see the caravan pull away; all of them pretended to have some other urgent business in the forecourt. I did not see Bryan or Matthew or Kent or Elisandra among the gawkers, but Doreen and Angela and Marian were there, pretending to take in the air. I spotted a handful of other noble ladies in the crowd, too. There were more than a dozen guards loitering near the gates, and twenty or thirty servants had found excuses to sweep the stairs or drain the fountain or trim the hedges on the main walkways. The servants clearly had the greatest
interest in and sympathy for the woman being sent so far away. She was one of theirs; her fate could so easily be their own.

Tiatza herself did not make goodbyes to anyone, just hurried down the stairs and into the coach, cradling her son in her arms. I had only seen her that one night—clearly not at her best—and I wondered now what she was thinking, if she was afraid, if she was plotting. She seemed too young and frightened to be planning coups on behalf of her infant son.

The outriders shouted the order to begin, and soon the whole little group was under way and out the gates. The crowd in the courtyard began slowly to disperse, though the sense of anticlimax was strong and everyone seemed reluctant to leave. I headed toward the guardsmen at the gate to see if any of my friends were on duty.

I quickly detoured back around the fountain and plunged my hands into the falling water as if that had been my intention all along. Roderick was among the guards, but standing slightly apart from them, and engaged in close conversation with the maid Daria. She was gazing up at him with that same familiar, intense expression I had seen on her face the last time I had spied them together. It didn't take any special intelligence to guess that they had met many times since then. As I watched, she handed him a small packet; his hand closed over hers for a moment, and I imagined the fierceness of his grip. Then he let her hand fall, as he slipped the treasure into his breast pocket.

I leaned over the fountain and splashed my face once, twice, three times. I was too hot to cool down. It was none of my affair if he loved the sturdy little western girl, but he had told me he did not. Perhaps that was my fault; I should not have asked if I did not want to be lied to. Perhaps, in his situation, I would have lied as well. But it made me angry, and I knew that it should not. So I threw more water on my face to remind myself that I had no one to be angry with but myself.

It was not to be the last shock of the day, though the final one came very late, after a formal dinner that lasted too long and left me stuffed and sleepy. I went to my room alone, leaving Greta and Elisandra behind continuing to make polite conversation. Cressida
had been in my room to light candles and leave fresh water—and someone else had been there, too.

Spread on the coverlet were the contents of my satchel, powders, packets, and vials all tumbled together in one colorful, aromatic mess. I exclaimed aloud and hurried over to sort through the disarray, trying to determine what was missing and what could still be salvaged. None of the bottles or jars had been broken, though a few of them stood uncorked on a nearby table. Everything had been opened. Everything had been touched.

I retied bags of dried herbs and restoppered the bottles, thinking quickly. There had been a parade of people to my rooms the past few weeks, and more than one had asked me to describe the effects of my various potions. If I had to guess, I would think that the desperate intruder was one of the silly moonstruck girls who had wanted an elixir of love. I had told them there was no such thing, but plainly they had not believed me.

Indeed, the packet of pansy pat was missing, and the vial of jerron (“which heightens attractiveness,” as I had phrased it to one visitor) appeared to have been emptied into some other container. I could not help but be annoyed. It had taken me some effort to gather, dry, and mix these herbs myself, and I would have to replace the stolen ones. Not only that: As my grandmother had repeatedly told me, herbal magic was not something to play with, certainly not for amateurs. There were too many things that could go wrong.

I would have to start locking my satchel away when I was gone from the room, which was a bother. But I was a responsible woman, and I could not allow such thefts to continue.

It was only later, as I was lying in bed attempting to fall asleep, that I remembered the scene I had witnessed earlier in the courtyard. Daria gazing soulfully at Roderick; Daria passing Roderick a thin packet of—something. I had assumed it was a folded note, but it could as easily have been an envelope of dried herbs. I could not imagine what she might have told him to convince him to sprinkle the mixture in his food—but then, I had never attempted to come up with creative lies in order to dose the object of my affection. She was a resourceful girl; no doubt she had sounded very plausible.