Summers at Castle Auburn (18 page)

“In that case, I think the antidote would be to avoid him.”

She pulled the cork out and sniffed at the contents. “Too late!” she said. “He already loves you. This smells like nothing at all.”

“That's why it's so easy to slip into someone's food or drink.
Why would you not want someone to love you? Assuming he was not a total boor.”

She replaced the stopper and laid the jar back in its place. “Sometimes it's simpler not to be loved,” she said. “What about this jar? Oh, now this has an awful smell. You can't surprise anyone with
this
potion, I'll wager.”

One by one, she went through every bottle and vial in my collection. I showed her the mixtures and dosages that would cure a cough, encourage conception, and enhance the memory. I showed her the draughts that would reduce fever and calm despair. I could not tell if she was genuinely interested in the drugs, or interested in learning more about me by examining the things I already knew. When we had been through the whole satchel, I insisted that she change into her nightclothes and drink down the brew I had mixed for her. It was strange, this night, to be the sister who tucked the other into bed, kissed her on the forehead, and bade her to sleep. She smiled up at me after I had blown out every candle but the one I held in my hand.

“I missed you, Corie,” she said. “I'm glad you're here.”

A
few weeks later, the castle slowly began to fill with guests. I was of two minds about the summer ball that promised to be the greatest social event I had ever attended. On the one hand, it was exhilarating to witness each new arrival, to whisper with Marian and Angela about which handsome young nobleman might dance with us at the ball, and to vocally disparage the charms of all the other young women. Each dinner was more lavish than the last, and there were constant entertainments planned for the afternoons and the evenings. On the other hand, such commotion definitely changed the easy rhythms of normal court life. I rarely got to see Elisandra alone, or Kent, or even Marian and Angela. Even late at night, the hallways were alive with constant chatter and activity; the castle never seemed to sleep. I felt both caught up in the excitement and displaced from my element. Like Elisandra, I was finding it hard to sleep.

That may have been because I still had not given up my late-night rambles, though these days they did not last so long. I was finding it harder and harder to make the pilgrimage to the very top of the castle, to the room where the aliora lived. Each new highborn arrival brought a new aliora in his or her train, servant to that household; and each of those visiting aliora was housed in the attic
with those of Castle Auburn. The addition of each new frail body to the score or so already on the premises had a strange, unsettling effect. There was an aura radiating from that open room—like a glow or a scent or a hum, though it was none of those things—a sense of power building or strength coalescing. It was as if the aliora drew courage from each other, reinforced each other, renewed each other. It made me afraid to stand there, absorbing that odd, bitter emanation; it made me hungry every night to feel that jolt of energy again.

As a direct antidote to this fey sensation, every night I hurried downstairs to seek out the very human company of the guardsmen at the gate. I had become firm friends with Cloate, Shorro, Clem, and Estis; and I was closely following the progress of Cloate's romance. It was proceeding somewhat slowly, to Shorro's disgust, but the pace seemed to suit the more cautious Cloate.

“She comes to the yard and watches his practices, four days out of five,” Shorro told me. “Some days she'll stay and talk. Other days she hurries back to the kitchens as if afraid he'll take her right there in the mud.”

“Shorro!” Cloate exclaimed. “You're speaking to a lady!”

“Really? She comes to watch him? I'd like to see this girl. Maybe I'll come out one afternoon and watch you.”

Shorro swept me a bow. He'd been practicing. Estis had informed me that, with all the ladies' maids pouring into the castle with the influx of visitors, Shorro was living in bliss. “Not getting two hours' of sleep a night, but a happy boy,” was the way the other guard phrased it. Shorro had punched him in the arm, but I believed it was true. Shorro was a flirt.

“We'd be happy to have you watch our poor efforts,” the short man said. “I would fight most fiercely for your favor.”

“Shorro,” all three of the others reproved him simultaneously, but I giggled. I pulled off the trailing scarf I wore at my waist and twirled it through the air in his direction.

“Fight, and make me proud,” I said. “I'll be there tomorrow. One of you will have to point out your girl to me,” I said to Cloate.

* * *

T
HE NEXT DAY
I showed up at the weapons yard, where I had spent very little time in the past weeks. I was surprised to see how many of the castle guardsmen were lined up in the yard, practicing their swings and battling against each other. Then I noticed that many of the watchers were the house guards of the visiting noblemen. Kritlin knew what he was doing. He was making a show of strength for the gentry.

In addition to the other soldiers leaning against the fence and watching the maneuvers, there was the usual assortment of castle servants and nobles gathered on the sidelines. I was surprised to see my sister's maid, Daria, standing near the fence, her gaze fixed intently upon the action on the field. I tried to guess which of the guardsmen she was following, but their helmets and practice vests made them hard to distinguish from each other. She was keenly interested in someone's fate, that much was clear from the expression on her face.

I spotted Shorro quickly enough, for he had tied my scarf high around his left arm, where anyone could see it. He was a deft swordsman, despite his lack of height, and he fought with a zest that made him both careless and hard to defeat. Today he was victorious in all three matches I observed before Kritlin called for a change of players.

Shorro came immediately to my side once he left the field. “That's her—the tall gangly one with the straight hair,” he said, nodding in the direction of a plain, severely dressed woman. “She looks dull, don't she? But Cloate can't get enough of her.”

I thought she looked serious and watchful, the kind of woman who did not easily exchange her virtue for pleasure. But I had a higher opinion of Cloate's fidelity than I did of Shorro's, and I thought he might have picked wisely.

“Are guardsmen allowed to marry?” I asked.

Shorro reared back as if I'd tossed him an insult. “Marry! Why would they want to?”

“I know
you
wouldn't,” I said patiently. “But those that are interested. Are they allowed?”

Shorro nodded. “Yes, even encouraged. Kritlin thinks marriage steadies a man.”

“I like her,” I decided.

Shorro rolled his eyes. “Since you know her so well.”

I grinned. “And you can tell Cloate I said so.”

He stayed beside me for the next few minutes, idly talking, but I did not listen closely to what he said. My eyes had wandered back to Daria, standing so still at the corner of the yard. Only now she was not alone. She was gazing earnestly up at the face of a tall, lanky, freckle-faced guardsman whom I had not had a chance to talk to since my return to Castle Auburn.

“Well,” I said aloud. My voice sounded harsh and sour.

Shorro stopped midsentence. “Well, what?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. Go on.”

He resumed his prattle; I continued watching. Roderick appeared to be listening to Daria far more than replying. He nodded a couple of times, and shook his head once, but for the most part, he seemed to have little to say. At one point, I saw Daria reach her hand inside her bodice and pull out some small object—a note, I thought, folded as small as it would go. Roderick took it and slipped it inside his pocket without looking at it.

Lucky for him Kent taught him to read
, I thought, my internal voice sounding nasty even to me. I was surprised at the depth of my sudden animosity. What did I care how many servant girls Roderick dallied with? It was just that he had not seemed like the type. It was just that I had thought him better than Shorro, more serious even than Cloate. Even Kent had spoken highly of Roderick. It was just that he had seemed special to me.

“Me again,” Shorro said suddenly, responding to a shrill whistle from the field. He slipped his helmet back on, but managed to wink at me through the visor. “Watch for me.”

I stayed awhile longer, but some of the pleasure was gone for me. This time I watched Roderick's lean, rangy body as he left the fence and headed back into the mock combat. He moved with a compact ease, disabled his opponents with economy, and was not struck down while I was there. When I glanced back to see how
Daria was impressed with his ability, I found she had already left the scene.

 

I
ENCOUNTERED MY
next somewhat tarnished idol the very next day. I had awoken quite late, since I had not returned to my rooms till nearly dawn, and I was strolling through the north gardens hoping to enjoy a few hours of sunlight. I didn't pay much attention when I heard a chorus of male voices rising from a nearby path—riders often chose to cut through the gardens on their way back from the stables—but suddenly I was in the middle of a group of young noblemen, all dressed for riding and smelling faintly of horse. One of the men was Bryan.

“Corie!” he exclaimed, bounding up to me and taking me in a fierce hug. I was both surprised and uncomfortable, for he held me much too tightly and no one behaved this way in the gardens—at any rate, not in the daylight and not with an audience. “Where have you been hiding yourself? I haven't seen you for a week.”

“I've been here,” I said, unobtrusively struggling to free myself. This didn't work. Keeping one arm around me, Bryan pulled me around to view his fellow riders. I recognized one or two of them, most of them young lords about Bryan's age, a few of them grinning at me, a couple looking bored or ill at ease.

“You know all these impressive scions of their respective noble houses, don't you?” Bryan cried, still in an overexcited voice that suited neither the hour nor the setting. “There's Max. There's Holden. That's Lester and Borgan and Hennessey—”

I tried to pick out Borgan of Tregonia, but no one was responding to the names Bryan was reeling off so fast. “And Jude is somewhere, but maybe he's ahead of us, because I don't see him at the moment—”

“Back at the stables,” one of the young men interjected. “Worried his mount may have taken a pebble in the hoof. He'll be by any minute.”

Bryan squeezed my shoulders and finally dropped his arm. “So, will I see you at the ball? Will you reserve a dance for me?” he
demanded. “None of this pretending to be shy with me—you've known me your whole life, after all, or most of it.”

“I'd be glad to dance with you, Bryan,” I said. For it was still true that he remained the most beautiful man at the castle, and the thought of dancing with him made me a little breathless.

He swept his hand out to indicate the men of his riding party. “All of them will want to dance with you! Right—eh, Hennessey? For this is Elisandra's sister—Jaxon Halsing's niece, you know. You've heard my father talk of her.”

The man called Hennessey gave a start of recognition and came forward. He was dark-skinned, dark-haired, with close-set eyes and a close-cropped beard. Older than Bryan by a decade at least—and not the sort of man I would have expected to enjoy an outing with the prince.

“Lady Coriel,” he said, taking my hand and bowing over it. “Yes, Lord Matthew has spoken of you often. I had hoped to meet you before this.”

“Back to the castle,” Bryan called, “for luncheon is on the table!” The whole untidy party began to jostle back down the path. The whole party except Hennessey, who stood before me, blocking my path.

“I'm sorry,” I said, as prettily as I could. “I did not catch your name. Lord—Hennessey?”

I had caught the name, of course, but I wasn't sure of his lineage. He obligingly gave me the details. “Hennessey of Mellidon. I'm Arthur's middle son.”

Ah, yes. Hours of studying with Greta over the past three summers helped me fill in the rest of this story. Viceroy Arthur was old, sick, and feeble but not yet ready to relinquish his authority; his eldest son did most of the actual administrating and was known for his swift dispensation of justice. That son had married young, but his wife failed to produce the desired heir, so he had divorced her and married again two years ago. This new bride had also so far proved infertile, leading to some speculation about the man's virility. The youngest son, who hated his oldest brother, had married more successfully and had sired numerous offspring, two of them boys.
Hennessey, always allied with his older brother, was looking to find his own wife and, if possible, cut out the younger brother in the succession.

It seemed someone might have suggested me as a possible match.

“Of course,” I said, offering my hand again and giving a formal curtsey. “You've come for the summer festivities, I take it? How do you like Auburn so far?”

He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and proceeded to escort me slowly back to the castle. “Much better—now,” he said. “I had heard that Elisandra's sister was her rival in all things, but I had not thought it possible. Until I laid eyes on you.”

The heavy gallantry came awkwardly from his mouth. I could not imagine any set of circumstances that would induce me to relocate all the way to Mellidon. I smiled nonetheless. “How flattering. Tell me how you have spent your days—hunting, I take it? What's the hunting like in your part of the world?”

This, as I had suspected, was a topic he was quite comfortable with, so we passed the rest of the brief walk in a discussion of hawks and hounds. Once we stepped through the great doorway, I clapped my hands to my cheeks.

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed. “I'm late—I'm so sorry—you can finish your story some other time.” And I dashed down the hall and up the first stairwell before he could ask about sitting with me at dinner that evening or dancing with me at the ball. A temporary reprieve only, and I knew it, but it made me gleeful nonetheless.

That evening, I waited in Elisandra's room as Daria fixed her hair, and I related some of the incidents in the garden. A flicker of distaste crossed Elisandra's face and was quickly gone.

“I do not care much for Hennessey myself,” she said.