Summers at Castle Auburn

  I withdrew my hand and stood stock-still beside him. It was growing light enough for me to see his face, and it was clear he had no idea what he had just said to me. “Some bastard girls don’t care for any of those choices,” I said quietly. “And they didn’t realize that was the category into which they were blindly thrown.”

  Now he flushed and snatched at my arm. “Corie—I’m so sorry, forgive me. Corie—”

  I jerked my arm from his hold and stalked a few paces away, but he instantly caught up and grabbed my arm a little more forcefully. “Corie, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling me around to face him. “That was a dreadful thing to say.”

  “True, though.”

  “Which makes it even more dreadful.”

  I stared up at him. Through the thick cloth of his jacket, through the thin wet layer of my dress, I felt the heat of his hands; his face, as he stared back down at me, seemed so sincere and so sad. “What makes you think,” I said slowly, “that I will do any of the things you and your father have decided I should do? I am not willing to marry to oblige you. There is no reason in this world that I should.”

  “My father would say,” he replied carefully, “that there is every reason. That you have been fed, housed, dressed, and educated at his expense for the very purpose of serving his ends at some future date. He made you an eligible bride, and he expects some repayment for his effort.”

  “I was not brought to Castle Auburn to be groomed for such a part. I was brought here at my uncle Jaxon’s insistence—to get to know my sister, to be included in the life that was half mine by rights.”

  “Your uncle Jaxon is a politician as savvy as my father. He may have loved you, and he may have wanted you to love Elisandra, but that is not why he brought you, year after year, to Castle Auburn. He will inherit some lands when your marriage settlement is decided—and Greta herself will receive a handsome fee for her part in the transaction. Your life here has not been free, Corie. It was your own innocence that protected you from realizing that.”

  I could not tear my gaze away from his face. I felt like Tiatza—I wanted to shriek in rage and pain. His own emotions had been exorcised from his stark expression; his eyes gave nothing back but my reflection. “Is that what you expected of me, Kent?” I asked softly, no longer able to talk in circles. “To pay for my existence with my freedom? Were you in the room with your father and my uncle, plotting which noble I should wed?”

  Now his face seemed to crumple, as if the emotions could no longer be kept in check; he looked away quickly so I could not see. “No,” he whispered. “Like you, for a long time I did not realize why you were allowed to run here like some kind of tame pet. That is not my father’s usual way—certainly not Greta’s. I was stupid. I did not realize how they planned to use you. Until recently. This summer.”

  I remembered our first breakfast meeting, his oblique comments and watchful eyes. He had warned me as best he could, but I had not been taking too many hints just then. “And did you think those arrangements were good ones?” I asked. “Did you think that was an excellent way to dispose of me?”

  He watched me closely, his expression now closed and bleak. “No,” he said. “That is not what I would have planned for you, had the issue been mine to decide.”

  I shook myself free of him, and he let his hands fall helplessly to his sides. I resumed my measured pacing around the fountain, and he matched me step for step. “Just what power do you have, Kent Ouvrelet of Auburn?” I asked presently. “You seem decisive and self-assured. You’re an intelligent man with an impressive lineage. It would seem you could do whatever you chose. And yet, from the things you have said—”

  “To some extent, I, too, am at the mercy of the court maneuverings,” he admitted in a low voice. “But if I chose, I could be entirely my own man. I have estates that I inherited when I turned twenty-one last year. Estates that only the king’s or the regent’s command could take away from me. I could retire to them tomorrow, run them with my whole heart, and never partake in the politics at Castle Auburn again. I could do that. I have considered it.”

  “And why don’t you?”

  “Because I was raised to believe that every man has a responsibility, and the strongest man has the heaviest responsibilities. I believe Bryan will be a troublesome and erratic king. And I believe that if I am here at Auburn, I might be able to exert some influence over him. Although I believe that less and less these days.”

  “What influence do you have over him now?”

  He laughed shortly. “I have actually kept him from a rash pursuit now and then. I convinced him not to be rude to Goff of Chillain when he arrived for the ball. I convinced him to invite Thessala of Wirsten to attend the festivities. And he does ask for my advice now and then, on matters he does not dare discuss with my father. My hope is that if he likes me, he will trust me, and may once in a while—when it matters—be guided by me.”

  I abruptly halted one more time and stared up at him. “You hate Bryan,” I said slowly.

  He nodded. “I always have.”

  “Then—but—there are things I am only just learning about him, but when he was young—when he was a boy—he was sweeter then—”

  Kent shook his head. “You asked me once if I was jealous of him.”

  “I did not!”

  “Not in so many words. But that’s what you meant. I’ve thought about it often ever since. Perhaps I am. Could I rule in Bryan’s place, better than he could? I believe that with all my heart. But almost any man could. Bryan is vain. He is cruel. He is selfish—and he is dangerous. And he has been these things since he was a child. Because he was beautiful, a lot of people did not realize how unattractive he could be. I can’t change him. I can’t depose him. But if, in the smallest way, I can control him, then my place is here amid the politics that go on at court. I may still hate what happens. But I may hate it less.”

  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.”

  “C
orie—”

  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.

  THE 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.