Old Magic (21 page)

I’m going for the nuns’ story, even though both stories have the feel of exaggeration. These people sure are a superstitious lot. They’re so isolated up here, they probably believe anything, and make up half the stories themselves for pure amusement.

“How can you not know the truth?” I ask. “After all, the two castles are neighbors.”

“The nuns were self-sufficient and lived reclusive lives. Years could pass before anyone saw or heard from them,” Isabel explains.

“One thing is certain,” Richard’s voice is suddenly deadly serious. “Rhauk is powerful and evil. I strongly advise you do not accept his invitation to dinner. Not only does he want our lands, the income we gain from them, but he has a personal vendetta with our family.”

Now we’re getting somewhere.

As Richard relates the tale, the room falls silent. He looks at me. “Did your father ever tell you why he moved away? Relinquishing his title and lands to me?”

I shake my head, eager for him to explain it all. “Your mother, Eloise, was a beautiful young woman. Many desired her, but none as much as your father—and Rhauk.”

Kate finds another chair, pulling it up beside me. “Both courted her, and it was clear she had affection for them both, but when forced into a decision, she chose your father. Rhauk could not accept her decision, and on their wedding night your father claimed Rhauk kidnapped his virgin bride. No one saw Rhauk do it. I was on guard duty that night myself and didn’t see a thing. No one broke through our defenses. Yet your father slipped into a state of shock, muttering for days a crazy story about Rhauk’s eyes. No one could make much sense of his words. By first light Eloise had wandered back, dazed and somewhat mindless for days afterward.”

Moisture glistens in Richard’s eyes, and Isabel leans down with comforting arms around his neck. The tears help me glimpse in him a softer side. To members of his family he is loyal and compassionate. And I sense he is carrying a guilty conscience at what happened the night of his elder brother’s wedding, especially considering he was on guard duty. Perhaps he thinks he should have protected them better. A thought hits me: Considering it was the evening of a celebration, maybe Richard was a drunken guard that night. And now he is Lord of Thorntyne Castle and all its estates, while his brother hides himself somewhere in a foreign land.

“It was rumored that Rhauk seeded Eloise with child, for the infant born nine months later strongly resembled Rhauk. The rumors cut deeply and Lionel took his young family far away.” Richard’s eyes clear and focus on mine. “How goes your brother?”

My “brother” is supposed to return to claim his rightful inheritance sometime in the future, there’s a battle described in the heritage book, so at least I know of him, and that he lives. “He is well.”

“You have seen Rhauk. Who does your brother resemble, now that he is a man?”

This is a tricky question. I don’t have any idea. I shrug, as if I don’t care. “I know him only as my brother.”

This seems to satisfy Richard, who stands suddenly as if tired of the conversation. He looks about him, observing the quietness in the room, and starts bellowing orders to continue with the cleanup.

Kate and I go out into the bailey. We need to hash over everything we have learned. Rhauk is obviously the one we want. And I think Jillian’s timing is perfect. But we need to discuss tactics. How are we going to stop this man?

One thing is certain, no matter Richard’s warning, we will have to go to dinner.

Blacklands awaits us, and all Rhauk’s mysteries.

Kate

Richard arranges an escort to Blacklands by a dozen of his best knights. The horses stand massive in front of us, neighing and fidgeting restlessly. We’re supposed to be competent riders, but I’ve never ridden a horse before, and from the wary wide-eyed look on Jarrod’s face, I guess he hasn’t either, at least not successfully. But these people believe we rode horses as far as London, and probably for most of our lives.

It turns out easier for me as one of Richard’s strongest knights helps me to the saddle by lifting me effortlessly from the waist. Being female, no one it seems, expects perfection. All I have to do is sit oddly, both legs on one side of the animal’s broad back, and hold the reins without falling off. Yeah, right.

It turns out to be much more difficult for Jarrod. For starters, without his glasses his vision is a little blurred, and he’s clumsy anyway. He’s also been allocated a stallion! A handsome white and speckled gray creature. This is supposed to be a compliment, but I don’t think Jarrod sees it this way. When he tries to mount the massive white restless stallion, he goes straight over the other side, descending headfirst into the hard dusty earth. He stumbles near the stallion’s foreleg, making it shy and fidget. And it looks as if Jarrod’s bruised his shoulder in the fall. The poor thing.

Out of respect for their lord, the mounted knights try hard not to laugh at this bumbling nephew, but I can hear their snickers anyway. Only Malcolm makes a comment, and it’s a nasty snide remark about Jarrod’s incompetence. It makes me think of another bully in another time. I guess certain things don’t ever change.

Malcolm looks at me and my skin crawls. And even though I know I shouldn’t, but because I sense I’m looking at the face of an enemy, I decide to probe inside his head.

Malcolm is filled with resentment, envy, and surprisingly, even fear. Suddenly it hits me. Malcolm is Lord Richard’s eldest son. He stands to inherit Thorntyne Keep and all its estates, including the title. Now Jarrod’s come along, son of the eldest Thorntyne, who can lay claim to the lands himself. So Malcolm sees Jarrod as a threat.

He will have to be watched.

Malcolm’s eyes narrow, studying me. I’m careful not to make eye contact, especially while still in his head. Not that he can feel me, it just makes me uncomfortable. It adds an element of intimacy.

Jarrod’s next attempt is still pathetic, but at least this time he doesn’t fall off. He grabs the reins as if his life depends on his not hitting the ground again. His face deepens to colorful shades of red. Finally, with a lot of grunting and heavy breathing, he straightens and grips the horse’s reins. If we were in class right now, they’d all be cheering.

We approach Blacklands at dusk, as invited. The knights remain outside the gatehouse, clearly unsettled just being this close to the dark stone and timber walls. Only Malcolm is calm and relaxed.

The high gates suddenly swing open, though no one appears to be around. Jarrod and I dismount, leaving our horses with Malcolm and the other knights, walking into the bailey on our own. No one greets us, or shows us the way. The castle itself is complicated, with several connecting buildings, not, as most castles of the times, with one large keep. Much of it consists of timber, plaster, and thatched roofs. Then I remember it was once a convent. Now it is lifeless and unnerving.

A door opens to the first building and Rhauk is standing beneath a high stone arch. Again, he is dressed all in black, tights, undershirt high up to his throat, tunic, and boots. There are sprinklings of gold in a braid around the edge of his high-necked undershirt, and on his belt, which supports a buckle made completely of gold. It intrigues me. My eyes fasten on the shiny object. Closer I see it clearly, and my heart jerks, throwing me unexpectedly. The buckle is a maze of snakes, scores of them, weaving in and out of each other’s bodies, only their heads and beady eyes clearly visible.

I recall Jillian’s vision of the snakes around Jarrod’s upper body, and how Jarrod hates snakes. I watch Jarrod’s reaction. He sees them, squirms uncomfortably, probably remembering Jillian’s vision too.

We follow Rhauk down a covered cobbled walkway, up a spiral staircase, into a sparsely furnished room, except for a magnificent timber dining table at one end. There’s a fire in the center that sheds warmth and light to the dying day. The smoke, I notice, isn’t as bad here as in Thorntyne Keep, so I follow to see where it’s going. There are air vents, long vertical slits in the roof, a mini-tower covering them, so smoke can escape, while rain can’t get in. It’s clever, considering chimneys aren’t invented yet.

Rhauk is watching me. He gives me the shivers. Even as he lays platters of food on the table, his eyes dance with mine. He’s flirting, I realize. Bold and obvious. And it’s hard to remember he’s more than double the age he looks. His skin is flawless, unmarked with age, his hair still deeply russet, his body lithe and youthful-looking. Occasionally his black eyes shift sideways to Jarrod, who’s trying hard to hang on to his patience. I warned him earlier—we come tonight seeking information, clues of any type that might help us solve the problem of the curse. Perhaps observing Rhauk in his own habitat will give us a lead. Losing control could blow everything. But Rhauk is teasing Jarrod. I just hope Jarrod can see through him, and not be blind to Rhauk’s games.

We sit down to dinner and my eyes bulge at the sight. There appears to be no one in the castle except for Rhauk, yet he’s prepared a luscious feast. Mostly fresh foods, berries and grapes, pears, apples, sweet corn, even light grain bread. There’s plenty to drink too, cider and sweet red wine, not coarse and rough, like at Thorntyne Keep. It has to be near impossible to grow all these things at this time of year. The aroma is strong and overwhelming. I’m hungry but skeptical. Who wouldn’t be?

“Is the food not to your taste?” Rhauk frowns.

“It’s just that, well . . . ,” I mutter, then opt for a direct line with this man. Anything less he wouldn’t respect. “It’s almost winter. There are few fresh fruits at this time of year.”

He smiles at me, laughs a little. “Nothing is impossible at Blacklands. I have my own gardens. Would you like to see them, Lady Katherine?”

His voice is like velvet, smooth and sensual. I glance at Jarrod, wanting to see his reaction to Rhauk’s invitation that leaves him out specifically. Thankfully, though he looks annoyed, he’s keeping control. I glance back at Rhauk. “We might like that later, thank you.”

Rhauk, if anything, looks smug and amused. He’s playing with us. It’s all a game to him. Well, I can play games too. I just wish the rules were clearer, and the stakes understood.

Rhauk carves up a pheasant, places a few slices of breast on Jarrod’s wooden plate. On mine and his own he serves a slice of the hot blackberry pie. His look challenges me. It says he knows I’m vegetarian, or at least that I favor fruits to meats. But how can he know this?

“How goes my dear brother?”

Both Jarrod and I look up at Rhauk, startled. Who exactly is he asking about? Confusion throws us for a moment. We’re being paranoid, I realize.

“Your father.” His voice is mocking. “Or has your long journey dimmed your memory of the man who raised you?”

Softly, thankfully not taking the bait, Jarrod replies, “He is well.”

“And your beautiful mother?”

Jarrod stares at him, but can’t hold Rhauk’s gaze. Damn. Don’t give away clues, I silently curse. Stare him down, if you have to.

“Fine.”

“Hmm, fine you say.” Rhauk looks bored, then adds, “Memory recalls Eloise a striking woman, yet . . . not quite as striking as you, Kate.”

My eyes fly to his in astonishment at the way he says my name. How does he know so much? Instinct? Or magic? They lock with his, and I’m trapped. Caught by the claws of something eerily strong, not from this world.

Jarrod feels the tension, his patience thinning. “Leave her alone.”

Slowly, Rhauk releases me, and his eyes move to Jarrod’s. “Why? I’m enjoying this conversation.”

Jarrod’s voice tightens. “Katherine is my wife.”

Rhauk laughs from deep within his chest. “You are a very poor liar.”

“I’m not lying,” Jarrod denies Rhauk’s accusation, but his voice hasn’t the conviction necessary to pull it off.

Rhauk’s head leans forward, his black eyes narrow slits. “Young lovers don’t sleep on opposite sides of the bed,” he hisses.

“How . . . ?” I hold this thought as I struggle not to look surprised or give our true marital status away. No matter his suspicions, or how clever this man is, Rhauk can only be guessing. Jarrod throws me a worried look.

A grizzly squawking sound draws our attention to the arched window slits. A black crow is perched there. I study it, wondering if it’s the same one that was perched on our window ledge this morning. Rhauk calls to the bird with a slight flick of his head, and the crow flies over, landing gently on Rhauk’s extended elbow. Rhauk croons to the bird, who soulfully responds, his arrow-shaped head inclining in an affectionate manner to one side.

I can’t drag my eyes away from the crow, understanding that I’m looking at no ordinary bird. Yet, I can’t accept that this crow somehow communicated to Rhauk our sleeping arrangement. It isn’t possible.

Rhauk feeds the bird a wedge of juicy apple, and the crow flies back to the window ledge, apparently satisfied. But it doesn’t fly away. The crow remains there throughout the entire meal, hauntingly watching.

It becomes fully night and Rhauk lights more rushlights, placing them in brackets around the large lonely room. My stomach tightens and I want to leave. Darkness at Blacklands is scary. But we really haven’t learned much yet, so I decide to speed things up. Rhauk begins serving sweet cakes. As he leans over my shoulder to offer me the platter I say, “We know about your plan for revenge.”

He pauses, going momentarily still. Shivers flutter across my sensitized skin. “Of course you do. This is why Jarrod has made his long journey here.”

I wonder how much he really knows about us. I have to find out without giving too much away. “So you know we’re here to stop you.”

He straightens. “You may attempt to, but seriously”—he glances at Jarrod as if seeing nothing more than a pesky fly—“you will only waste your time, and no doubt, die in the process.” He returns to his seat at the end of the table and looks across at me. His eyes are like rocks of coal. “My dear Kate, I have a vision for you.” He rubs his hands together like an excited little boy.

Jarrod climbs to his feet. “You have no business with Katherine.”

Rhauk also rises and stares at Jarrod. “You, Jarrod, have come to protect your family. I respect that, though, in the end, respect means nothing to me. And, though you do not know this, you have brought the Lady Katherine with you because this is where she belongs.”