The Glass Casket (8 page)

Fiona shook her head. “Well, whatever your father’s reasons might be, I wish he would see to it to change his mind.”

“So do I,” said Rowan.

Fiona now looked at her cousin, regarding her with an air of great seriousness. “If your father has forbidden you to talk to me, what are you doing here now?”

Rowan bowed her head. “I have a friend who wants to meet you. He wants an introduction.”

The girl smiled to herself, and Rowan wondered how it would feel to be so completely confident of your own beauty.

“I know the boy,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yes,” Fiona said, walking again. “There are two brothers. They were both watching me. One was quite beautiful, but he wasn’t interested in me.”

“He wasn’t?”

“No. He has other interests. It was the other one. He was less handsome, but he had a kind way about him. A little awkward, maybe, but special.”

“Tom’s not awkward,” Rowan said, barely able to contain her shock at her cousin’s vanity. “He’s the best thing this village has to offer by a long shot.”

The girl paused for a moment, a small grin forming on her lips. “You might be right,” she said after a while. “You say he wants to meet me?”

“He does.”

“And you’re to arrange it?”

Rowan nodded.

“Well, if my own cousin is to arrange it,” she said, a big, beautiful smile illuminating her face, “then how can I refuse?”

“Shall he come round to your cottage?” Rowan asked.

Fiona grew quiet for a moment, as if she were concentrating, trying to come up with the right answer. Finally, she shook her head. “No. He can’t come by the cottage. That
won’t work at all. I will meet him here. Tomorrow. Do you think that will work?”

Rowan nodded. “I’ll arrange for it. Can you meet him here tomorrow at this same time?” she asked, and Fiona agreed.

The two girls stayed a moment longer, staring into each other’s eyes. And now it was Fiona’s turn to sense something strange between them.

“You know,” she said, “there’s something so familiar about you. It’s as if I’ve always known you. Tomorrow will you come too?”

The idea of seeing Tom and Fiona together caused a sudden painful constriction across Rowan’s chest, and she began to wonder if she might be making a terrible mistake. She shook her head. “No. I know that would be customary, but I have other commitments.”

“I see,” Fiona said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

And though Rowan could tell that this girl, so cold only moments before, wanted her to stay, wanted to talk with her, to make some sort of connection, she knew she couldn’t let herself befriend her.

“Tomorrow, then,” Rowan said, and turning, she made her way back down the path, her cousin, cloaked in cherry and crimson-lipped, watching as she went.

Back at home, Rowan found Emily busily preparing her mother’s old wing for guests.

“Who’s coming?” she asked, but Emily just raised her hands and shook her head.

“He’s not telling me a thing. He seems very anxious that everything be perfect. He says he even wants Pema kept in the kennel while they’re here.”

“What?” Rowan was shocked. “No. It’s too cold for her out there.”

“That’s what I said, and he nearly snapped my head off. He says she can’t stay in my room because it’s too close to the guests, and he fears she’ll disturb them. You’d better talk to him yourself if you want something done about it.”

“Where is Pema now?”

Emily put her hand on her hip, her eyes wide, revealing how ridiculous she felt the whole thing was. “I had to chain her up out there, didn’t I? I didn’t want to. I warmed some towels for her, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Like I said, he’s not going to listen to me. You go talk to him.”

Rowan took the back stairs two at a time and, running through the kitchen and out to the kennel, she wrenched open the door. Pema lay shivering on the cold ground. Emily had done her best to try to keep the dog warm. She’d put down towels like she’d said, but Pema had bunched them up at the edge of the cage, and she lay shivering at the other end. When she saw Rowan, she scrambled to her feet and bounded over to the girl, licking her hands and putting her paws on Rowan’s shoulders, though Henry Rose usually scolded her for doing that.

“Come on, girl,” Rowan said, leading her back into the
house. The dog scrambled off, bounding up the stairs, presumably to the comfort of Emily’s bed, and Rowan headed down the hall to her father’s office.

She pushed open the door without knocking, startling Henry Rose, who quickly shut his book and slid something into his top drawer.

“Rowan,” he said, trying to hide his shock at having been interrupted.

“I should have knocked,” she said, taking a step back. “I’m sorry I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking, I suppose. I was so upset, you see.”

Her father stood, alarmed. “What’s wrong, my child?”

“I’ve found Pema out in the kennel, although it’s clearly too cold for her to be there.”

“Is it?” he asked, seeming genuinely surprised. “I had Emily put her out there. Don’t be cross with her. It was at my bidding.”

“The fact remains that she can’t stay out there. She can stay in my room. I’ll keep her in there if you want while your guests are here.”

Henry Rose stroked his chin. He was nervous, she realized. Rowan wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him nervous before. “Mmm. I see. Yes, I suppose that would work. I’m sorry for not taking the weather into account. I have been distracted, what with the guests coming.”

Rowan cocked her head. “Who are they, Father? Who is coming?”

He smiled, though the tension did not drain from his face. “You mean, you haven’t heard already? I thought it
would be all over the village by now. Why, the duke himself is coming.”

“The queen’s brother?” Rowan asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice, for Nag’s End had never hosted anyone of such high stature. “Coming here? But why?”

“I invited him. You will remember that he is not just the queen’s brother. He is also the king’s conservateur. He was eager to discuss some of the work I sent him, and when he heard about the death of the king’s soldiers, he offered to come to Nag’s End and serve as royal representative.”

“But why is he staying with us?”

“Where else is he going to stay? At the inn?” her father laughed, unable to keep the unkind note from his voice. “No, ours is the only home fit for a member of the royal family. They will be staying with us.”

“They?”

“Yes,” he said, stacking some papers. “His ward is accompanying him. It seems Nag’s End is to serve as a geography lesson of sorts. She’s eleven—a little young for you, I know, but perhaps she’ll be a friend nonetheless. We’ll have to keep her occupied while she’s here.”

“When will they be arriving?”

“Late this evening, I expect. I will meet with him first thing in the morning, and I’m told the girl will need to rest in, so it is best if you keep yourself occupied tomorrow. Go early to the market, will you?”

Rowan nodded, smiling at the thought of a young guest.

“And tell Emily no listening at doors. Better yet, give her the day off. She can go visit with that boy of hers … Bill.”

“I’ll tell her. Oh, Father, how exciting this all is!” Rowan could barely keep herself from clapping like a child.

“Yes,” he said, his voice straining. “Yes, it is that.” And then he returned to stacking his papers, already occupied with plans for the morrow.

Rowan could hardly contain herself as she bounded up the stairs to her room. The duke conservateur coming here to Nag’s End. She could hardly believe it. Rowan felt excitement building in her chest. The queen’s brother in their house! And his ward as well! The idea of having the younger houseguest thrilled her. She had always wanted a little sister, someone to comfort and to guide. Since she was small, she had, in fact, always felt that something was missing from her life, as if she were constantly reaching for someone who wasn’t there.

After retrieving Pema’s food and water, she headed to her room to make a space for the dog up there, and then set herself up at her desk and began on her next stack of translations. She’d meant only to work for a short while, but time had a habit of slipping away from her, and when she happened to glance up again, she saw the dying of the light and realized that she had yet to speak with Tom. After putting away her papers, she took the stairs two at a time, but as she slipped on her cloak, she found her heart suddenly heavy with the task at hand. She had a suspicion that this meeting she had arranged between Tom and Fiona might mean losing Tom forever, and yet she knew she couldn’t bring herself to deny him his happiness.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Emily called as Rowan started out the door.

“Over to the inn.”

“At this hour?” Emily raised her eyebrows and tucked her chin in disapproval.

“I’ll be back soon,” Rowan said, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t stray from that path,” Emily said. She turned then, and before sauntering back to the kitchen, she added, “This close to dark, forest things’ll snatch a girl before you can say
crow’s eyes
.”

Jude sat on the stairs listening to the men talk. When his father had seen the elders approaching, he had closed the place down and sent the boys out on errands, but Jude did not go. Instead, he waited for Tom to leave and then settled in on the back stairs high up enough that he might be hidden in the shadows and yet still see all below. He did not consider his father a smart man, but he was a good man, and Jude distrusted the elders.

Paer Jorgen, who was the most senior of the elders, stroked his beard and looked at his fellows.

“As we told you earlier, Goi Parstle, we are concerned about the safety of your clan. We have consulted the bones, and we have conferred with the witches, and there seems to be a darkness over this house.”

“What?” Jude’s father said, taken aback. “But mine is an honest house.”

“We know this. It is why we’ve come here to speak with you this evening. We fear the impending visit from the duke. We worry for you.”

“But why me? What does the duke have to do with me?”

Paer Jorgen nodded. “Only that he is coming here to look into the deaths of those soldiers up on Beggar’s Drift, and our oracles point to something evil within our village, here, of all places, at your inn.”

“But I have committed no crime.”

Ollen Bittern cleared his throat. “You must understand, we know that none in your house is guilty of any crime, but we feel the need to warn you that every oracle we consulted seemed to refer us back to this house.”

Wilhelm’s voice shook when he spoke again. “What does Mama Lune say? Surely she must know my house is clean.”

“Not exactly,” Paer Jorgen said. “She held that you were a good man, and that it was unlikely you’d have done any wrong, and yet she sensed it too—something within these walls, something wicked. We worry that the duke may launch a formal death inquiry, and if he does, I fear we will have to tell him what our oracles have seen. Whether he accepts oracular truth or not, it is our way to let it be known—we are compelled to display the evidence.”

From the darkness of the stairs, Jude saw what his father refused to see. If the oracles said there was something base beneath their roof, then perhaps there was, but that didn’t have to mean it concerned their family. Theirs was a public place, a tavern frequented by all in the village. Perhaps there was an evil in their home, but if there was, it was a
visitor
to their hall, not a family member. He decided that from now on he must keep an eye on the door, and an ear to the ground.

Wilhelm Parstle swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice quavered with anger. “Are you implying that I, or one of my boys … that we murdered those soldiers?”

“Of course not. The very idea that we are looking for a man is absurd,” said Paer Jorgen, unable to keep the disdain from his voice. “I was up on that mountain. I saw those poor souls. There’s not a man alive capable of such brutality. It was the work of an animal—I’ll not hear any different.”

Ollen Bittern nodded. “We do not doubt you. We only tell you that the bones led us to your door.”

“Well.” Wilhelm sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair. “What do you suggest we do?”