And when she could breathe again, she would look for a way to get them all out of it.
But the first thing she was going to do was stop sleeping in the same bed with her sister. No more of that drug-laden breath for her.
Because a collective hallucination made a lot more sense than thinking she had walked through a shower of sparkles and landed herself back in the Middle Ages in the care of a man who patted her to keep her calm, killed guys who tried to abduct her, and loaned her his clothes.
She needed to get home, and fast.
Chapter 9
Montgomery listened to the comforting scratching of his steward’s quill across parchment. It made him feel secure to listen to the business of the keep running so smoothly. A pity that was the only thing in his life running smoothly.
“Uncle?”
Montgomery looked up. Phillip was standing in front of the fire, no doubt warming his backside. Montgomery would have smiled if he’d had it in him, for he had done the same thing on many an afternoon, in more than one hall. “Aye, lad?”
“Did you know the Faery Queen’s name is Cinderella?”
Montgomery didn’t want to admit he did, for that would lead to questions about where he’d heard Persephone calling her that—in less-than-dulcet tones, truth be told—and he wasn’t about to admit he’d been sleeping in the passageway outside his bedchamber. Then again, he supposed Phillip knew that already. He supposed the entire keep knew that by now. It wasn’t as if he could do anything else, not with Boydin roaming the halls at all hours and Everard leering at both guests whenever possible. But he didn’t need to dwell on those two gels and neither did Phillip. He frowned at his squire, then went back to his business.
“And Mistress Pippa,” Phillip whispered. “She seems unfamiliar with the politics of the current day, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Montgomery didn’t want to hear it. Bad enough that he now knew not only Persephone’s full name but a pet name for her. Worse still that he knew when she entered the chamber and when she left it. He had no desire to hear anything about what she might and might not know about the current day.
For obvious reasons.
He shot Phillip a look, the same sort of look Robin was wont to use when he didn’t particularly care to continue a certain conversation. He most certainly didn’t want to carry on that conversation where his steward could hear it.
Besides, it wasn’t unusual for a body not to be familiar with the politics of the day. His family enjoyed a rousing discussion about the foibles of the king and his court, but there were others he knew who would rather have faced an army of irritated Scots than discuss the like.
Phillip fell silent. Montgomery went back to his study of what was before him and tried to recapture the happy feelings he had at looking at what stood to be a decent fall’s harvest if Gunnild didn’t raze the larder with what he’d discovered were her endless plans for feasts involving large numbers of important guests.
“Uncle?”
Montgomery sighed before he could stop himself, then looked up. “Aye, Phillip?”
Phillip seemed to be chewing mightily on his words. Montgomery could only imagine why. In fact, he could imagine quite a few things, but given that they were things he didn’t care to examine too closely, he knew he would be better off to ignore them as long as possible.
He didn’t imagine that happy bit of avoidance would last very long.
“But Mistress Pippa,” Phillip said in a loud whisper. “Her wings . . . well, her wings aren’t always on her. Have you noticed?”
“Nay, I had not,” Montgomery lied shortly. He had most certainly noticed that, as well as several other things including her very lovely blue eyes, the fairness of her face, and her glorious dark hair that fell down her back in a cascade of curls— especially since that she had managed to wash it the day before and it was now free of cesspit leavings.
But more particularly, he’d noticed her hands, long-fingered and delicate. He realized that even after so short an acquaintance, he could tell her mood by her hands. They were most relaxed when working in the kitchen. They tended to clench when she was talking to her, er, queen.
Unfortunately, they seemed to be clenched during those very brief moments when she’d talked to him, as well.
Then again, it wasn’t as if he’d exercised any of his copious number of knightly virtues on her. For the most part, he had avoided speaking to her—though he supposed he had made up for that by the amount of looking at her he’d done. He had treated her with a stiff formality that would have appalled his grandmother and shocked his mother.
Though, who could blame him? If he had speech with her, or considered the strangeness of her accent, or gave thought to the fact that no rational man could, after a certain point in his life, have given credence to the myth of faeries, or ghosts, or travelers from a time not his own—
Nay, ’twas best he ignore her completely.
“Queen Cinderella abuses her mightily.”
Even Fitzpiers looked up at that. Montgomery laughed, though it sounded a bit forced to his ears.
“Queen Cinderella? Phillip, you have been listening to too many tales spun by your grandmother.”
“The lady Gwennelyn doesn’t consider them idle fancies,” Phillip pointed out.
“My mother, whom I love dearly, has a very tender heart and a great love of small children with large ears,” Montgomery said, shooting Phillip a look of warning he couldn’t have missed. “But her tales are meant for children, Phillip, not grown men. They are nothing more than idle fancies.”
Phillip lowered his eyes immediately and looked appropriately miserable. Montgomery sighed. One of his greatest failings, something Robin pointed out to him as often as possible, was that he had inherited more than his fair share of his mother’s tender heart. He waited until his steward had gone back to his labors before he rose and went to stand next to his squire.
He could readily admit that he had loved Phillip from the very moment he’d first clapped eyes on him not half an hour from his mother’s womb and wailing like a banshee. He had spent untold hours playing with the lad, laughing at his antics, and—it had to be admitted—recounting innumerable tales from his own store of idle fancies for the boy’s amusement. If Phillip believed in things he couldn’t see, Montgomery knew most of the blame for that could be laid at his feet.
“Let’s go see if anything’s on the fire in the kitchen,” he said quietly, ruffling his squire’s hair. “We’ll save your Mistress Pippa from the terrible demands of her queen, if we can.”
Phillip shot him a grateful smile, but sobered immediately. “As you will, my lord.”
Montgomery paused. “Discretion, Phillip, is a knightly virtue that you should strive to develop. I promise it will serve you in good stead the whole of your life.”
Phillip looked at him from clear, innocent gray eyes. “Has it served you, my lord uncle?”
“In more situations than you might expect, my lad.” He started toward the door. “Let’s be away.”
Phillip was silent only until he had shut the door behind him. Montgomery had expected nothing less and braced himself for a new onslaught of questions he wasn’t particularly going to want to answer.
“Is Cinderella the Queen of Faery, Uncle?” he asked very quietly.
Montgomery looked about him, but saw no one. He dragged his hand through his hair, then sighed deeply. “What do you think, lad?”
“I have never seen a gown so fine,” Phillip said reverently, “nor a lady wearing wings, though she seems to have taken them off and left them in your chamber. She drops little bits of stardust from her wand, though, and from her gown. Mistress Pippa is continually going along behind her, gathering those things up. I was thinking that perhaps those were bits of faery magic and that if the queen lost them all, she wouldn’t be able to return home.” He shifted uncomfortably. “ ’Tis possible that I think too much.”
“A fault we share, my lad,” Montgo
mery conceded.
“Should we not then help Mistress Cinderella return home to her realm?” Phillip asked. “Is that not something our knightly duty demands?”
Montgomery nodded, because he could say nothing else. Aye, he had a duty to help Persephone and her mistress—whoever she might be in truth—return home. The real question was, where was that home?
Or, rather, when?
He walked with Phillip across the great hall over to the passageway that led to the kitchens. He imagined Persephone would be there, only because it was nearing noon and Cinderella would have wanted something to eat. He had come to realize over the past several days of her habitation in his keep that while she might not have eaten very much at a sitting, she ate often and she was generally displeased with what her servant brought her.
’Twas little wonder Persephone clenched her hands so often.
He paused at the entrance to the kitchen, because he could go no farther. He leaned against the entrance and simply watched something that wouldn’t have made an impression on him at any other time, but now was easily one of the most peaceful, lovely sights he’d seen in months.
Persephone and Joan were standing across the worktable from each other, chopping vegetables. Joan was talking nonstop, which now that she was free of Cook’s ready spoon seemed to be her habit. Persephone—nay, Pippa he would call her for that seemed to suit her at the moment—Pippa was listening, smiling just a bit. For some reason, seeing her standing there in his kitchen caught him so tightly around the heart, he winced. He almost started forward toward her, just as he’d attempted to do over ten years earlier.
She looked at him in surprise, and that broke the spell. Montgomery stepped backward so quickly, he knocked Phillip over. He turned to give his squire a hand up only to see Fitzpiers trotting down the passageway toward him.
“You have a guest, my lord,” the steward said with a smile. “Or, rather, a gift.”
“A gift?” Montgomery asked, happy to latch on to any sort of distraction that had nothing to do with who he’d recently been gaping at.
“From your brother-in-law, the lord of Raventhorpe. He sends it with his most sincere compliments.”
“I’ll follow immediately,” Montgomery said without hesitation.
And he did. He didn’t even turn about to nod to Pippa. He simply caught his squire by the arm and strode after his steward toward something he hoped wouldn’t be as disturbing as what he’d just left.
“Phillip,” he said as they walked swiftly back to the hall.
“Aye, my lord?”
He started to tell his nephew that indulging in fanciful imaginings in one’s youth led to complete madness in one’s majority, but he decided that such a declaration would only lead to more questions he couldn’t answer.
Or questions that he didn’t want to answer, rather.
“Nothing,” Montgomery said. “Nothing at all.”
“As you say, my lord,” Phillip said uneasily.
Montgomery declined any further comment on the matter and merely walked into his great hall and across it without hesitation. Standing just inside the hall door was a man he recognized, a man he would have kissed heartily on both cheeks if he had dared. He embraced him just the same, slapped him on the back a time or two, then pulled away.
“Petter,” he said gratefully.
Petter of Jedburgh, a master stonemason who had over the years become nothing less than part of the family, laughed. “My lord Sedgwick, I can see you have need of my services, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“How many men did you bring with you?”
“Half a dozen.”
Montgomery couldn’t help but smile. “What am I going to owe various brothers and sundry for stealing your services for a time? And you, for being willing to travel so far?”
“My exorbitant fee, which judging by the condition of your walls, you’ll pay without hesitation,” Petter said with a smile. “As for what you’ll owe your brothers, I can’t answer that, but they were well aware of your need.” He shrugged. “In truth, I’ll simply be happy for someone with whom I can natter on in the native tongue.”
Montgomery had learned Gaelic during a miserable year of squiring for a certain Lord Pevensy, then perfected it with Petter over the course of watching the man repair his brother Nicholas’s roof and his brother-in-law Jackson’s entire hall.
“I’ll gladly oblige you,” Montgomery said. “When can you start?”
“After I’ve had something to eat,” Petter said, “if you don’t mind. I’ll get my men settled and start looking for stone. I can’t imagine what was here before has gone far.”
“I doubt it has,” Montgomery agreed.
Petter studied him assessingly for a moment or two. “I heard in the village that you have the Faery Queen in your bed.”
Montgomery spluttered in spite of himself. “What?”
“The Faery Queen,” Petter repeated. “In your bed.”
“Ridiculous,” Montgomery said promptly. “She was in my hall, not my bed.” And that was true. Now and then.
Petter began to grin. “I also heard that all your servants fled.”
“How long were you with your ear to the local ale keg?” Montgomery asked sourly.
“Long enough,” Petter laughed. “I brought you a trio of kitchen lads, courtesy of your grandmother, the lovely lady Joanna of Segrave. Will that help?”
Montgomery closed his eyes briefly. “The only way in which you could improve my life at present is to have brought me a decent garrison, but I daren’t hope for that.”
“My lads can wield a sword in a tight spot, but they’re not men-at-arms.”
“I don’t know that tight spots aren’t in our future,” Montgomery said seriously, “but I’ll pray they don’t come until I have loyal men of my own. Let me see you fed and settled, then you can examine my ruins and see what’s possible.”
“And you’ll introduce me to your guest?”
“I value your friendship too much to want to,” Montgomery said with a snort, “but if you insist, I’ll attempt it. You can chat her up whilst I’m rifling through my coffers to see if I can afford you.”
Petter glanced at the walls, then whistled in a particularly expensive-sounding way.
Montgomery didn’t want to think about the cost. His gold wouldn’t do him any good if it had been stolen by thieves who’d crawled through holes in his walls, so ’twas best he see to his defenses first of all. He walked with Petter back to the kitchens, grateful beyond measure for brothers who saw his need and filled it without his having to ask. Truly he had been blessed to have such a family.
He wondered what sort of family Pippa had.
He watched Petter introduce Segrave’s lads to Joan and instruct them to follow her every order with exactness or they would answer to him. They seemed properly intimidated in a good-natured sort of way, and Joan looked very pleased at the possibility of aid. Petter then turned to look at the entrance to the kitchens. His mouth fell open, which led Montgomery to believe someone interesting was there. There was no screeching involved, so it couldn’t have been Cinderella. He was unsurprised to hear Pippa’s voice from directly behind him.
“Excuse me, my lord.”
Montgomery stepped out of her way to find her carrying a wooden tray piled high with useful things. He lifted an eyebrow. “Not suitable?”
She only sighed.
He picked up a spoon and tasted what looked to be eggs hesitantly, on the off chance Cinderella had it aright. He was somewhat surprised to find they were delicious. He looked at Pippa.
“May I finish?”
She shoved the tray into his hands. “Help yourself.”
He set the tray down on the table, pulled up a stool, and ate what had been a perfectly delightful supper. The bread was hard as a brick, but he’d eaten worse, so he made do. He also shot Petter a warning look when the man introduced himself to Pippa with an overabundance of charm. Petter only laughed and tucke
d into supper happily with his lads. Joan was currently instructing her newly acquired crew to do the things she had been doing on her own for the past two days.
Or, rather, with Pippa’s help, no doubt. Montgomery had assumed she had been upstairs, waiting on Cinderella, but given how quickly Cinderella had rejected her supper, he suspected Pippa had spent more time below than he’d realized, trying to find something Cinderella would eat.
He was half tempted to take over that task for her and let her rest, but that would have meant going upstairs and having to look at beauty he found unnatural in its perfection. He wasn’t above admiring a handsome woman. Indeed, he had admired more than his fair share. But Cinderella . . . well, she was something else entirely. He could admit it freely.
She terrified him.
Pippa was looking over the selection of vegetables and fruits available. Given that the kitchen was in the throes of its usual chaos, he took that opportunity to casually walk over and stand next to Pippa. She was remarkably tall, based on his experience, and slender, based on what he was accustomed to. She was still wearing his clothes, which he supposed he would have to remedy sooner rather than later, though he couldn’t deny that there was something quite charming about seeing her in a tunic that was too large and knowing it was his—
He rubbed his face with one hand. He most certainly couldn’t have her, he wasn’t at all sure he wanted her, and even if either of those things had been remedied, he wasn’t at all sure she would want anything of a serious and romantic nature with him.
Besides, he knew nothing of her. She could have been full of vile humors and unreasonable expectations. She might have been jealous, conniving, endlessly unhappy with what he was able to provide for her.
She held up a knife.
He nodded to himself. Already she was showing her foul humors. For all he knew, she would take that knife and plunge it into his chest. Well, she might have, if there hadn’t been a carrot skewered onto the end of it.
“Tasty,” she remarked.