Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart (40 page)

Doc's face lit as if illuminated from within by a new idea.

"In fact, who is to say that Lady Melina isn't "bringing Citrine with her to New Kelvin?"

"Citrine said nothing about going there," Elise replied dubiously. "She was rather upset about this seaside trip."

"True." Doc's words tumbled over each other in his hurry to get them out: "But if Lady Melina didn't want her own going to New Kelvin to be known at large she wouldn't tell Citrine precisely where they were going. She might even lie to her so that if anyone
did
question Citrine about her—or her mother's—plans, the little girl wouldn't be able to give the game away."

"It does make sense," Elise said slowly, her worried expression lightening. "And it's not at all unlikely that Lady Melina would want her daughter to have a chance to see New Kelvin, given that she herself remembered her own trip there so fondly. It makes perfect sense, when you think of it that way."

She beamed at Doc.

"And I'd been so worried about Citrine!"

Doc flushed from his recently grown beard to his eyebrows.

Derian spoke up quickly lest Elise have a chance to remember that she had been treating Doc like a piece of particularly useful furniture—something you didn't abuse, but you didn't really notice either.

"Good," he said heartily. "Then we will assume Citrine is with her mother. Now, to take up Elise's reconstruction of events. After Baron Endbrook does his business in Port Haven, presumably he will join up with Lady Melina—and Citrine—at some inn. That's where they'll also meet up with the hired wagon and horses."

"Sounds reasonable," Doc said. "It even makes more sense now that Waln opted for a wagon rather than horses. Citrine's too small to make that long a ride astride a horse, and a pony would tire out."

"And be noticeable," Elise added. "A rider or two alongside a wagon could be almost anyone, but a little girl on a pony…"

"Little girl with citrine on forehead," Firekeeper added, indicating where Citrine, like all her mother's children except for Sapphire, wore a sparkling gemstone.

"Yes," Elise nodded. "Even if Citrine wore a hat or scarf, it could slip. Better have her wrapped in furs or blankets in the wagon with the luggage."

"If they don't want to be noticed going into New Kelvin," Derian added practically, "they'll pose as merchants. As you noted, Elise, this is a good time of year for trade with New Kelvin. I didn't think to check if Waln also arranged for cargo."

"We'll assume for our purposes," Doc said, "that he did or that he has plans to pick up something along the way. I didn't have much luck with the New Kelvinese before they left for home—they're a closemouthed lot, or at least those I met here were. Still, I did have a couple of decent chats with a younger fellow—hardly more than a servant. I got the impression that he had encountered Baron Endbrook before this, but he didn't want me to know.

"Mind," the knight added hastily, "I may have been seeing what I wanted to see. At the very least, I did pick up some trivia about the customs of the country that could come in handy."

"So you think that we might need to pursue this into New Kelvin?" Elise said slowly.

"Yes," Doc said bluntly, and Derian nodded his agreement.

"I go," Firekeeper said, tracing her finger along the map of the New Kelvinese border. "I go wherever and however far I must to steal those three things."

The wolf-woman looked at them all, her dark eyes serious and her expression quite worried.

"I promised."

A
fter her guests had left, Elise attempted to return to her embroidery, but her thoughts kept wandering and twice she tore out stitches before giving up entirely. Idly, she rolled the hoop between her hands, feeling the flexible wood bounce lightly like carriage wheels against a road.

Finally, she admitted to herself what she had been struggling to deny: she didn't want to be left out of this venture.

True, Firekeeper had returned from her journey with orders that made this matter her own. True, Elise's alertness had served them well, enabling them to deduce not only who had the artifacts, but where they might be being taken.

Surely this was better man the vague information which otherwise would have been all that Firekeeper had to act upon.

I've been useful
, Elise reminded herself sternly.
I've done my part. I have other duties now
.

Foremost among those duties was choosing which of her winter guestings she would accept. She had made winter visits before—they were a common way to liven cold-weather dullness—but never before had she received so many invitations.

Elise took the heap of handwritten cards from where she had wedged them into her embroidery basket. There were the usual ones from her Wellward relatives, invitations to stay for a moonspan or more. Each of Hawk Haven's other Great Houses—or one of their cadet branches—had also invited her to stay: for a week or a fortnight, for a house party culminating in a dance or masquerade.

Elise couldn't help noticing that most of these invitations mentioned in passing some son or nephew who would be a companion for her.

There was even an invitation from Sapphire asking Elise if she wanted to come stay at the castle. That one was tempting, because—as far as Elise could tell—it offered no attempt at matchmaking.

Despite Lady Aurella's hopes, there were fewer invitations from Bright Bay. Doubtless the nobles there were still trying to figure out what alliances offered the greatest advantages. Still, there was one from a Duchess Seal and—no surprise—the duchess mentioned having a houseful of young sons
and
nephews who would be happy to keep me winter days from growing dull for their foreign guest.

Elise sighed, blowing out her breath with such force that a stray tendril of her fair hair fluttered as in a gale.

In most cases, the invitation from the crown princess would have had unquestioned precedence, but Elise thought that she could manage to appease Sapphire with a shorter visit. However, to do so without hurting her feelings—Sapphire had always been quick to perceive insult—Elise should have her destination picked out and some good excuse for going there.

Once again she spread out the invitations, sorting them by what claim they had on her. As much as she would enjoy visiting her Wellward kin, they must be given lower priority. She was well known to them and they to her. That she might still end up marrying some lesser Peregrine was possible, but, as Lady Aurella had indicated, the Archers already had a blood tie to that house.

Elise considered the others, sliding them back and forth on a polished tabletop in a fashion that reminded her of Sapphire and Shad playing the pirate game.

This, too, calls for strategy
, Elise thought, grinning to herself at the comparison. She must share it with her mother at dinner.

At last she had reduced the pile to two or three in addition to Sapphire's elegantly written card. Duchess Seal certainly had a claim and Elise thought that she couldn't quite ignore the one from Lord Polr, Duke Gyrfalcon's second brother.

The Shields were still rebalancing the scales—honored by having a granddaughter of the house chosen as crown princess, shamed by having a son of the house a proven traitor. For those reasons, they might offer some advantageous alliance or even business deal.

Then there was…

Elise set Lord Polr's card, which she had been about to reread, aside and reached for one that had sat in its own pile of one at the table's edge since the sorting had begun. It was from Duchess Kestrel and invited Elise to travel to the Norwood Grant with the Kestrel family when they returned home.

During their recent visit, Elise had learned that Derian would be among the Kestrel party, as would Doc and Firekeeper. The duchess's invitation was open-ended—a routine courtesy with winter coming on.

And I could go with them
, Elise thought,
and miss nothing. Nor does it hurt that Earl Kestrel's eldest son, Edlin, is a few years older than me or that his next, Tait, is just a bit younger. That should satisfy my mother and father
.

She remembered an earlier visit some years before when she had been about eight. She'd torn about the gardens and fields with Edlin and Tait as if she were as wild as Firekeeper.

My hair was in plaits down my back
, she remembered fondly,
and Edlin kept tugging at them. I kicked him in the ankle and he limped for two days. His father wouldn't let Doc
…

Doc—or Sir Jared—had been neither healer nor knight then, merely a beardless youth of fourteen or fifteen with dark hair and the Norwood nose. He'd been showing traces of his talent then, but Earl Kestrel had bluntly refused to let him use it for Edlin's benefit.

"
You say it isn't broken, Jared
?" the earl had said. "
Then let Edlin learn the consequences of his actions. It's not too early, not if he's already being bruised for them
."

And young Jared had solemnly agreed, but he'd bound up Edlin's ankle, then taken them all fishing so his young cousin could take the weight off the injured member and cool the bruise in the water in which they dangled their lines.

Elise was pulled from her memories by the sound of the solar door opening. She looked up to see her mother entering, her footsteps noiseless on the thick carpets thrown down to guard against the chill from the stone floors.

Lady Aurella smiled when she saw what her daughter had been doing.

"I remember those days," she said with a light laugh. "My sisters and cousins and I would count our invitations and lord them over each other as if we'd actually done wonderful by receiving them. Have you decided where you wish to go?"

Elise hedged for time.

"I must visit with Sapphire at least for a day or so, or her feelings will be hurt," she began.

"Wise," her mother agreed, taking a seat where the light was good and opening her own embroidery basket.

Elise noted that Lady Aurella had also chosen a place from which she could not see which cards her daughter had selected. There was a measure of courtesy and restraint in this that Elise appreciated.

Doubtless Aunt Zorana would sweep over here and run her fingers through the cards, pointing out which important ones I had overlooked.

"But you will not winter with the crown princess?" Lady Aurella asked, needle dipping and rising.

"I think not," Elise replied. "Sapphire will be busier than she knew when she wrote this out. I remember something of court routine. She's forgetting that her days will not be the usual idles of winter."

"Perhaps so," Lady Aurella agreed. "If you make good excuse, she will forgive you not offering to give her a longer visit."

"Just what I was thinking."

Elise paused, wondering if she should move directly to Duchess Kestrel's invitation or lead up to it through some of the other candidates. The latter tactic
would
give her opportunity to read her mother's expression. She was about to begin when Lady Aurella stole a march on her.

"I understand from the butler that you had visitors this afternoon: Lady Blysse, Sir Jared, and Counselor Derian. Did they call to bid you farewell before returning north? I understand that Duchess Kestrel is beginning to be concerned that the weather will turn and make their journey unpleasant."

"Not quite," Elise said, unwilling to lie.

"Then did they come to plead with you to come to Norwood with them?"

There was a teasing note in Aurella's voice that made Elise suddenly angry.

"No, they didn't!"

"Ah."

There was a wealth of sympathy and understanding in the single syllable that made Elise even angrier. She kept her temper, however, as befitted a lady.

"Too courteous, no doubt," Elise managed, "or perhaps embarrassed. Duchess Kestrel does mention in her note that Lady Blysse stands to have a lonely winter. Doubtless they didn't wish to pressure me to come and keep her company."

"Doubtless."

Lady Aurella's tone was unreadable.

"I'd like to go, though," Elise admitted. "I have good memories of visits to the Norwood Grant."

"Summer visits," her mother reminded her. "Winter gets bitter in the North Woods."

"True, but Lady Blysse is a friend."

Silence punctuated by the rise and fall of the needle.

"And I don't feel ready to contract a marriage yet."

The words, sneaking out from some quiet parlor in her soul, startled Elise even more than they did her mother.

"You don't?" Lady Aurella said, raising her elegant eyebrows. "You were ready enough last summer."

"I think that's why I'm not ready now," Elise replied. "I'm not nursing a broken heart, Mother, honestly I'm not, but I can't bear the idea of spending the next several moons making courting conversation and all the rest."

"You'll need to be polite on the Kestrel estate," Aurella said. "You're no longer a child of eight who can kick her host."

"You remember that too!"

Aurella laughed. "Your father and I were terrified you'd crippled the heir apparent to a Great House."

"Apparent, apparent," Elise said, remembering an old jest they'd used to taunt Edlin when he got too full of his own barely understood importance.

"And," Aurella said, sharing Elise's smile, "Edlin and Tait are both potential matches for you."

"Edlin," Elise said, "has lands coming to him through his grandmother and father, but you're right, a separate tie to our barony—given how far apart we are—would benefit us both."

"And I think you were once fond of Edlin," her mother prompted.

"True, but, Mother, I meant what I said. I'm not ready to contract a marriage: not to Edlin or Tait or Jared."

The last name slid out but once spoken could not be ignored.

"No?"

"No. I'm hardly an old maid yet. I won't reach my majority for moonspans yet. I promise to consider any Kestrel offer, but I think I'd like to wait until I have a better idea of our needs."

"Our?"

"The Barony of Archer."

Aurella studied her daughter for a long moment. At last she nodded.