I didn’t like the sound of that, but I reluctantly nodded. There was nothing else for me to do, especially since there seemed no point in telling him that my concerns were less for him and more for Audrey. Who knew how Leander would respond if he realized Gabe had some interest in her?
Gabe smiled again, oblivious to my thoughts, and strode back onto the road, moving quickly toward the Keep. He had almost disappeared from sight when I remembered one small thing I could do.
“Eagle?” I bugled the name, and the black feathers swung back into sight. Tipping my head, I called up to her. “Will you stay here? Keep an eye on him? And come and fetch me if you see him get into trouble?”
She bugled back to me, sounding pleased enough with the request. She must have decided she liked him then, after all. I watched her turn and flap in the direction he had disappeared, remaining in place until she also left my sight.
Then, with a sigh, I began the trudge back to Brylee.
Chapter 8
Quiet greeted me at the haven’s entry, so I headed straight back toward the kitchen. Sure enough, I found Cora there, enjoying a moment of quiet before the lunch preparations began. For the second day in a row, Wren was here as well, although this time there was no sign of her daughter.
“Do you really think he’ll—” Wren’s quiet voice broke off as I walked in, resuming when she saw it was me. “Oh, it’s just you, Lady. We’ve received word that the prince has gone to the Keep today, and I was just asking Cora if she thinks he really will keep an eye out for Audrey.”
I kept my hands still, ignoring the instinct to reassure her. As far as Cora and Wren knew, I had no more knowledge of Prince Gabriel than they did.
“I wouldn’t go raising your hopes,” Cora said, caution in her voice.
My eyes strayed over to the table where a number of bread loaves and rolls were piled haphazardly. So the baker had been here, despite it not being the end of the day. He must have someone else watching his shop. No doubt he had been the source of the news regarding Gabe’s movements—perhaps the gossip had been his excuse for the early visit.
I looked pointedly between the bread and Wren, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” said Cora in a wry tone, “Ash is here. He wanted to be sure we had heard the news of His Highness, and thought he would bring some fresh bread while he was at it. Claims he feels bad about only giving us the leftovers at the end of the day.” She paused, her mouth edging up on one side. “I can’t imagine why.”
Wren studiously ignored us both.
“It’s very considerate of him to think of the haven’s residents,” she said. “He even brought a small cake for Junie. In fact, he’s off fetching her from Selena now.”
I snorted. Yes, very considerate of him.
Juniper burst through the doors, cutting off further conversation. Ash and Selena followed more sedately behind. The tall, muscled baker looked out of place beside the young girl and slim youth, but he carried himself easily and with a comfortable smile.
“Mama! Mama!” Juniper cried, throwing her arms around her mother’s legs before spotting me and giving me the same treatment.
She looked up at me with shining eyes. “Ash brought me a cake, Lady!”
“Ash said it was fine for her to leave the lesson, but I thought it was best if I come and check with you directly,” Selena said to Wren. Her responsible tone was somewhat belied by the way her eyes kept sliding toward where Juniper’s cake rested on the table.
“Thank you, Selena,” Wren said, hiding a grin. “Junie, perhaps you could share the cake with her.”
Juniper pulled free of me and rushed over to the table, climbing onto a chair and eagerly beginning the process of dividing the cake. Selena dropped all pretense and hurried over to join her, the two of them discussing a fair division without further reference to the adults in the room.
“I had thought Juniper might share some with her Mama,” Ash said, looking slightly crestfallen.
Wren smiled. “Selena will enjoy it more than I could. One of the delights of youth. It was very kind of you to think of Junie.”
He brightened at her gratitude and moved over to talk to her quietly. I watched her face as they spoke. Her smile and laugh seemed genuine, and the two of them always got on so well, but she made none of the little encouraging looks and movements I had seen other young ladies in Brylee use when they wished to show a courting man that they returned his interest. And I knew she always denied that Ash even was courting her—although it was obvious to everyone else.
Did she think she had nothing to offer a man with a prosperous business and respected position in the town? Or was it grief still for the woodsman husband she had married young—the one who had died in a tragic accident while Juniper was a small baby?
I could still remember how shattered she had been by her grief when they first arrived—holding herself together purely for the sake of her child and younger sister. Without her husband and the income he brought in from chopping wood, the three of them had been left with nowhere to turn but the haven.
She had come a long way since then, however. And while she never forgot, she had regained some of the joy for life that Audrey said she used to have. Juniper always gave her a reason to smile, despite her grief, and lately Ash seemed to be giving her another reason to smile despite her protestations. I hadn’t worked out yet whether she was being deliberately obtuse to his interest, or if she was truly blind to it.
Juniper interrupted them, running over, her face covered in patches of icing sugar.
“Thank you, Ash! It was delicious. Will you bring me another one someday?”
The adults all chuckled. He reached down and put his hands under her arms, hoisting her up and setting her legs swinging around in crazy patterns. She squealed with delight, laughing and calling for more. When he finally put her down, he was smiling almost as hard as she was.
“Ash can’t be bringing you cakes every day,” Wren said, although she had the same smile on her face.
“Awww. Why not?” asked Junie, scrunching up her face.
“I don’t mind,” Ash said quickly. “I just wish all my customers were as enthusiastically grateful.” But his eyes were on Wren, not Juniper, and they looked wistful.
“You’re far too kind, and your actual paying customers might be wanting your delicious cakes,” Wren said lightly.
My heart stung a little in sympathy at Ash’s crestfallen look, but Wren didn’t seem to notice, ushering Juniper back out of the room under Selena’s supervision. Ash watched them for a moment before his eyes fell on me.
He gave me an easy smile until his brow crinkled slightly, the expression changing into one of concern. He took several steps in my direction.
“I’m glad you’re here, Lady,” he said. “I’ve been worried about you.”
I stared at him in surprise. Most townsfolk had taken little note of me when I was a quiet thirteen-year-old sheltering at the haven. I had come and gone among them, running errands for Cora, without occasioning any particular notice. People were friendly enough, assigning me to the background tapestry of town life—as they did anyone who found their way into Cora’s care. Not even the most frightened of residents could look at me as I was then and see a threat.
But then everything had changed. I had disappeared into the forest and come out different. I no longer spoke, no longer attempted to barter at the market or exchanged the friendly greetings they had barely noticed before. Soon enough, I stopped frequenting the market at all. And, worse than any of that, I spent my nights alone in the forest. Not even Cora would think of doing such a risky thing, and my continued reckless behavior only cemented the idea that something was terribly wrong with me.
Now they shunned me, whispering among themselves if they saw me pass and hurrying their children away. It had long since ceased to bother me. Those at the haven had taken my changes in their stride, their initial shock and questions giving way to acceptance when they realized that I truly did not intend to give a
ny answers.
Ash was different, though. He continued to be friendly, even if I often read confusion in his eyes. At first I had thought it was purely because of my close association with Wren, but moments like this reminded me that his concern was genuine, and for my own sake. The knowledge warmed me and unsettled me in almost equal degrees, although I didn’t understand why.
I tried to smile reassuringly at him, but his expression only deepened.
“I don’t like to pry,” he said, and I flinched. Ash had never asked me intrusive questions, but everything in me tightened now—I should have been prepared for their inevitable arrival.
“I’m sure you have your reasons,” he continued. “I just wish you would consider staying at the haven tonight. And for a while. I worry about you out there on your own.”
I frowned. That hadn’t been quite what I expected.
I signed toward Cora, and she stepped closer. She had already been listening, her own face beginning to mirror his concern.
“She says that she cannot,” Cora said, interpreting for me. “But she thanks you and says you needn’t worry about her.”
Ash gave a wry smile. “If only it were so easy to turn off such feelings.” His eyes glanced briefly toward Wren, who was now talking to the newly arrived cook, but he turned back to me. Apparently we weren’t finished with the conversation.
“As I said, I know it is none of my business, but I’ve been hearing some disturbing rumors, and it keeps me up at night sometimes to think of you out there in the dark.”
I smiled and shrugged. I wasn’t alone, of course—I had my swans with me—but I wasn’t going to attempt to explain that to him. He seemed disconcerted by my calm response, but I knew Brylee too well to take any real fear from his words. The townsfolk seemed to feed on frightening rumors these days, although I couldn’t remember the last truly frightening thing to happen in the area.
Excluding Leander, of course. He was frightening enough to fill all my nightmares, but he was cloistered away in his Keep, and unlike me, the townsfolk knew no real reason to fear him. They resented that he no longer did business with Brylee, sourcing his supplies elsewhere, but the now-absent servants didn’t cause them great alarm. Those who served the local lord had never come from among the townsfolk—most of them had been born and raised at the Keep, taking over the roles of their parents before them.
Cora, however, took his words more seriously. She frowned and stepped even closer, dropping her voice low.
“What sort of rumors?”
“Not the good kind.” Ash threw me a look that suggested he was concerned about being more explicit.
I rolled my eyes and gave him a pointed look, and reluctantly he continued.
“There are fewer woodsmen than there used to be.” Once again, his eyes flicked sideways to Wren, but he didn’t stop. “Fewer men are willing to brave a solitary life in the forest. But those that remain have been telling strange stories in the tavern. Stories about animals behaving in odd ways. Ways that aren’t…natural.”
Cora pulled back slightly, her eyes going wide, while I tried to keep myself as still as stone, my face unmoving. An icy chill trickled down my spine.
Animals behaving in odd, unnatural ways? I knew some animals like that…and I could only imagine what the terrified townsfolk would make of them. Would they be frightened enough to finally be goaded into action? What if they sent a hunting party out into the forest?
It took all my self-control not to run to the lake to reassure myself my friends were unharmed. But I suppressed the foolish impulse. I needed more information.
Before I could sign my questions at Cora, she jumped in, asking them for me.
“Animals acting unnaturally? How so? What sort of animals?” She looked at me, and I could see Ash’s worry had taken root in her. “Dangerous ones?” I hated the thought that she would fret now when I left each evening.
I held my breath as I waited for Ash to answer. He seemed reluctant still about going into detail.
“I’m afraid so. I hear talk of wolves and bears and large packs of hounds that no one has claimed.”
Cora looked confused. “I thought we could all stop worrying about such animals coming across the border now that Palinar has been healed?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, still struggling to keep my expression calm, but no one looked at me this time. They had no reason to do so. The curse had already begun when I arrived in Brylee, and I had never wanted to draw attention to myself by owning up to being Palinaran.
“That’s the thing,” Ash said, finally warming to the topic. “They’re not coming from the border region. Most of the reports have been on the eastern side of the town.”
Cora and I shared a look. The border lay to the west of Brylee and the capital to the south. North was only uninhabitable mountains, and to the east lay two things: more forest and Leander’s Keep. Cora never complained, but I knew her dislike for Leander ran deep.
Unlike his father, he did nothing to care for his people, and the absence of the old lord’s gifts made the haven’s existence a struggle. Even worse, Leander had taken the Keep’s business away from Brylee, meaning that the whole town suffered, and fewer of the locals had excess supplies to send to the haven, either. Cora worked hard every day and never expected anything for herself, but she relied on the help of the community to keep the haven open. Without donated supplies, we wouldn’t be able to keep accepting those in need, and I knew the thought kept Cora awake at night. When Audrey disappeared to his castle, it had only deepened her existing dislike of the current lord.
But I knew something Cora did not. Every morning, seven swans behaved very strangely indeed in the woods to the east of the town. And it wouldn’t be the first time a story had been exaggerated as it spread—made more terrifying than had any basis in reality.
“Dr Jenkins’s housekeeper came into the bakery this morning,” Ash continued. “Yesterday the good doctor had to patch up one of those woodsmen. He came into town with several nasty wounds—says he barely got away with his life and is swearing up and down that he won’t return to the woods for anything.”
The first stirring of genuine fear for my own safety uncurled in my stomach. I shivered. Both Ash and Cora turned to look at me, and I managed to summon a smile for them. I didn’t suspect the housekeeper of making up the story, but it was possible she had exaggerated it. Possible also that the woodsman had been injured in some normal way—none knew better than us that felling trees wasn’t the safest way to earn a livelihood. Perhaps the two stories had become merged at some point.
Still, I couldn’t entirely shake the feeling of unease. How much help could a wedge of swans be against a pack of wolves or a bear? My enchanted lake might keep me safe at night, but I still had to walk there and back each day.
But no matter how much I disliked it, my only other option was to remain at the lake and never come to the town at all, and that was out of the question. So there was nothing to be done except to thank Ash again for his concern, try to avoid Cora and her newfound anxiety, and do my best to keep my thoughts away from the sort of wounds a wolf might inflict on a woodsman.
All of which was quite enough to keep my mind busy without the added layer of tense alert as I waited for Gabe. Every sound made me twitch and look to the door. It was going to be a long day.
Chapter 9
I fled the kitchen before lunch had even begun—offering to take the trolley full of food trays to the wing that housed the more elderly residents. I had too much stress of my own today to cope with Cora’s gaze lingering on me wherever I went, the slight crease between her eyes telling me that she was trying to decide if it was worth raising the issue of the forest with me.
She hadn’t tried to talk me into spending my nights at the haven for at least eighteen months, and it would be the worst of timing for her to start again now.
The large sitting room shared by the older haven residents had none of the buzz of the kitchen or the chaos
of the opposite wing which held the schoolroom and the children. Some of the calm sank into me, taking the edge off my tension. As I handed out the meals, I smiled and greeted each person. Most of them were women, and most of them had knitting or crochet to lay down at my approach. They kept themselves busy supplying clothing and blankets for the children.
One lady, however, had no such gainful occupation in her hands. Instead she rested them on her hips as she stood over the largest and plushest armchair in the room. Her eyes were narrowed as she stared down at the chair’s occupant.
“Don’t you give me any of that nonsense, Gregor,” Vilma said. “No one has taken your favorite cushion.” She grinned triumphantly. “I saw you with my own eyes. You hid it behind that potted plant. Wanted something to complain about, no doubt. I daresay you’re planning to get Lady in here to fuss over you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Gregor, but his guilty eyes slid over to the plant in question where a corner of blue plush could indeed be seen.
“Ha! I know your tricks.” Vilma laughed suddenly. “And a good thing, too, because no doubt you’d forget you ever put it there and then it would be missing for a week.”
Gregor stared at her for a moment before letting out a rough bark of laughter.
“Ah, right you are, lass,” he said. “No doubt I would. Which is why I need you around to keep me straight.”
I left their food on the trolley and slipped over to retrieve the cushion in question. When I approached them, holding it out, both of their faces lit up.
“Ah, Lady!” Gregor leaned forward, inviting me to place the cushion behind his back.
When I did so, Vilma shook her head.
“You spoil him, Lady dear.” Her tone was affectionate rather than accusing, and I smiled back at her.
When I turned to get their trays, she took over from me, adjusting Gregor’s cushion with hands that were still gentle despite their age. Only when she was satisfied that he was comfortable did she take the seat beside him and accept her lunch from me.
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