Summers at Castle Auburn (29 page)

“I'm sure I will,” I said politely.

Bryan snorted. “He's a pompous old man who can scarcely see to shoot a crossbow.”

“He's a seasoned and thoughtful veteran,” Matthew corrected him in measured tones.

“Well, he may know old war stories but he's forgotten all the skills,” Bryan sneered. “Give me a dagger to his sword, and I'd dismember him every time.”

“No doubt. However, we do not want you to dismember him,” Matthew said dryly. “You must save that pastime for some less desirable party.”

Bryan laughed, as if Matthew had intended humor. “I look forward to meeting him,” I said.

“Your uncle also will be arriving in a day or two,” Matthew pursued. “In his last letter, he hinted at changes he plans to make in his lifestyle. Naturally I am most curious to learn what these are. No doubt you will wish to visit with him as well.”

“Oh, always,” I said, still in my polite voice, but my heart had quickened. Changes? Jaxon? I had last heard from him in early winter, shortly after the solstice, once Elisandra had returned home. He had sent a brief note, expressing his regret that he would not be able to escort me back to the castle for my summer visit, but promising to see me sometime during the season. Even at the time, his note had made me wonder.

Matthew touched his napkin to his lips. “And soon, as you know, the castle will be quite filled with other guests. These are splendid times for Auburn.”

Bryan took his juice glass from Damien's hand and raised it in a mock salute. “Splendid,” he echoed. “A glorious summer indeed.”

 

T
HE FIRST CHANCE
I got, I asked Kent and Elisandra what Matthew had meant. I had not planned to pose the question to Kent as well; he just happened to be in my sister's sitting room that afternoon when I came in after my ride. The two of them appeared to be in deep conversation, which they broke off the instant I entered.

“Elisandra, did you—oh. Good afternoon, Kent. Daria didn't tell me you were in here.”

He touched his fist to his forehead in light mockery. “Yes, Lady Coriel, and I am thrilled to see you, too.”

I settled myself next to my sister on her sofa, and she smiled at me. “Did I what?” she asked.

I had to think back to what I had been saying as I walked in. “Did you—oh! Did you notice anything odd about Uncle Jaxon over the winter? Lord Matthew was hinting at something over breakfast.”

“If you had breakfast with my father, you must have been up the entire night,” Kent commented. “I'm surprised you're awake now.”

Elisandra's perfect features drew into a slight frown. “Odd? He seemed a little distracted, that's true. He met with his estate managers for three whole days, but I assumed that he was discussing normal affairs of the property. He didn't mention anything amiss.”

Kent's face had dropped the teasing look; he now wore his new serious expression. I leveled a stare of accusation in his direction.

“You know something,” I said. “What's going on?”

“My father seems to think,” Kent said carefully, “that your uncle is planning to marry.”

“Marry!” Elisandra and I exclaimed in unison. She added, “Marry who? He never mentioned any woman.”

“He always swore he would never marry,” I said.

Kent shrugged. “I think my father is guessing. It seems Jaxon has asked for copies of his brother's will, and one of the clauses in it concerns the disposition of the Halsing estates if Jaxon marries and has heirs.”

“And what exactly is that disposition?” I wanted to know.

“Strange,” Kent admitted. “As it stands now, Halsing Manor is Jaxon's for his lifetime. After he dies, it goes to Elisandra's second-oldest son.”

“Second-oldest?” I asked.

“Because my oldest will become king,” Elisandra said.

“But if Elisandra did not marry Bryan—” I began.

Kent nodded. “Then she and her husband would inherit the estate upon her marriage. She cannot inherit the property herself,” Kent added, “for the will was written on the principles of primogeniture.”

“And if Jaxon marries and has heirs?” I asked.

“His heirs receive the property, but an annuity is paid out to Elisandra for the rest of her life. And a smaller one falls to you, I might add, but only until you marry.”

I sat up straight at this news. “How much of an annuity? I might never marry if the amount is good enough.”

“Jaxon would have to die before you would receive it,” Elisandra reminded me.

“He's an old man. He lives a dangerous life,” I said outrageously. “I can be patient for a while longer.”

“Corie!” She was shocked, but Kent was laughing.

“Indeed, my father always said he had expected Jaxon to die before he wed,” Kent observed. “And I'm not sure he's pleased at the news.”

“Why not?” I demanded.

Kent shrugged. “Because if Jaxon was going to marry at all, he might as well marry to oblige the throne. My father long ago gave up trying to rope Jaxon into a political alliance. You can see where this might—annoy him a little.”

“But you don't even know for sure that marriage is what he has planned,” Elisandra said.

“True. It could be some other mysterious ‘change' that requires the rewriting of the entire Halsing endowment schedule.”

Elisandra silenced him with a glance. I left the room shortly afterward, looking for information from other sources. But Angela was surprisingly little help, though we spent at least an hour remembering the names of all the women of marriageable age whom Jaxon could have met in recent visits to the castle.

“Because I
don't
think he goes into society much when he's not here, except locally, and there are no brides to choose from near Halsing Manor,” Angela said positively. “Did he travel much last winter, do you know? Did he visit Tregonia or Chillain? Though I still say Megan is too young for him, despite the tendency older men have to believe young ladies prefer them.”

“He didn't mention any trips. He doesn't write me that often. I think it has to be someone near Halsing Manor.”

Angela's eyes grew big with illicit speculations. “Could it be—
one of the
servant
women? Or—perhaps not quite that bad—a seamstress from one of the nearby towns? A lowborn woman? Perhaps someone who works in a tavern—”

That would certainly explain the secrecy, and I had to admit I could picture Jaxon enjoying the company of a woman not quite so well-bred as the ladies he might find at the castle. But—to marry one? Jaxon had never liked anyone's company enough to seek it out for more than a week or two at a time. It was hard to picture him choosing a partner for life.

Two days later, he arrived with the most unexpected companion in tow.

It was shortly after dinner, and all of us had withdrawn to the salon to hear some of the musical selections Greta and Elisandra had chosen for the wedding ceremony. When I say “all of us,” I mean the fifteen or so people most nearly involved in the event: the bride, her mother, Bryan, Matthew, Kent, me, Angela and her mother, Cressida, Andrew, the four musicians, and the prince's personal guard. Matthew, Greta, and the bridal couple stood up near the musician's dais, critically listening to the musicians, while Angela's mother and Cressida discussed seating arrangements. Angela and I amused ourselves by parading up and down the narrow aisles between the chairs, dancing more energetically than the music would suggest. Kent came over twice to tell us to be quiet, but we ignored him. Roderick stood with his back against the wall and kept his eyes fixed on Bryan.

Into this domestic scene came Jaxon, strolling in with the queen of the aliora on his arm.

I'm sure there was not instant silence, for it took a while to catch Matthew's attention, and the musicians played a few more bars before they realized there was something odd about the quality of the silence in the room. But to me it seemed like all the noise in the world came to an abrupt halt the minute I saw Rowena of Alora step inside the door. Maybe it was the absolute stillness of Andrew and Cressida that seemed to shout silence in my ears; maybe my own astonishment erased all sound from the room. But I looked up and saw her, and everything else disappeared.

She looked exactly as she had that night four years ago in the wood by Faelyn River. Her skin was so white that, even in this candlelit room, it glowed with its own radiance; her thick black hair fell about her shoulders like a shawl. The air shimmered with her luminosity, waves of light so visible they reverberated off the walls and broke in shattered reflections over her dark head. As before, she was dressed in some opalescent gown that seemed to drape her in glitter. Her narrow, insubstantial hand rested on Jaxon's so lightly that she appeared merely to brush the fabric of his coat; her feet did not touch the floor.

Everyone in the room was staring at her, and no one said a word.

Jaxon glanced around at the lot of us, openmouthed and stupid, and burst into laughter. “I didn't know the sight of me would actually turn you all to stone,” he said. “You've seen me walk in here before with an aliora on my arm.”

“None quite so fair, though, I believe,” said Matthew, the first to recover use of his voice. “All of us have heard reports of this one.”

“No doubt you have,” Jaxon said, and put his free hand over the queen's where it rested on his arm. “For she is the gift and royal treasure of Alora.”

He spoke proudly—dotingly—as a man besotted. All the conversations of the previous days rushed back through my head. He had taken the queen of Alora prisoner—or perhaps she had ensorceled him. Who had bewitched whom? Why was she here? Was she the author of the changes that had been hinted at for months? I could not think how to frame the questions.

Matthew took a step nearer the new arrivals, though everyone else seemed rooted to the spot. Indeed, Cressida and Andrew, on opposite sides of the room, had fallen to their knees and had fixed their eyes on Rowena. They looked amazed, uncertain, terrified. Even less than I did they know what her presence signified.

“May I be permitted to know her name?” Matthew asked. “And why you have brought her here?”

“Her name is too strange and beautiful for you to pronounce,” Jaxon said, still in that proud, elated voice, “but among humans, she is called Rowena.”

“Rowena, queen of Alora,” Matthew said. He had come close enough to extend his arm as if to touch the new arrival. “Will you take my hand?”

Jaxon gently but unmistakably pulled the aliora a step backward. “Strip away your rings,” my uncle said. “The touch of metal pains her.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cressida start and Andrew scramble up from his kneeling position. They had thought she had come here in shackles, as they had; but she was here of her own free will.

Matthew did not demur. He pulled his three heavy rings from his fingers and dropped them in a vest pocket. This time, when he extended his hand, Rowena laid her own in his palm. An indescribable look crossed the regent's face, and I knew exactly what he was feeling—that jolt of magic and longing that emanated from the skin of the untamed aliora.

“Welcome to Castle Auburn,” Matthew said, bowing over her hand. “Do you stay long?”

Everyone in the room stopped breathing in order to hear her speak. “The length of our stay depends upon Jaxon's wishes,” she replied, her speech formal yet lilting, mannered and yet somehow wild, as if she spoke with the river's voice, or the rainstorm's. “He is my guide for this portion of my journey.”

“We have come for my niece's wedding,” Jaxon said. “Though we may not stay for the ceremony itself. Great crowds of people do not make for easy company for my bride.”

“Your
bride
,” someone yelped (I thought it was Greta), and then there was silence no longer. Everyone was speaking. Everyone pressed closer to the newlywed couple—though no one came close enough to touch. I saw Andrew and Cressida stare at each other across the room, doubt, hope, and horror in their faces. I did not move, did not speak, could not think. Stupefaction had rendered me immobile.

Matthew held his hands out for silence, and there was quiet, more or less, in the room. “This is most unexpected news,” the regent said, and for the life of him he could not sound entirely happy. “I had never expected to see Jaxon Halsing wed.”

My uncle gave his usual, sonorous laugh. “No, and neither did Jaxon Halsing! We have performed only one of the ceremonies that will bind us together till death, for we stopped on our way at a chapel in Tregonia. We must go to Alora to speak a second set of vows.” He laughed again and pointed at Elisandra, who had circled through the crowd to come stand on his right. “A tedious business, all this swearing and promising, as you're about to find out, my girl. But I discovered I did not mind it so much once the day actually dawned. I spoke the words, every one, and not a single syllable choked me coming out.”

A few people laughed at this sally. Elisandra merely smiled, but she put her arms around Jaxon's neck. “I am so glad for you,” she said against his cheek. “May the happiness of the world pour over your soul.”