That would make even more of a mess if she was since he would have to explain her disappearance to the marquise. He cocked his head when the woman didn’t reply. “Well? Or have you no voice?”
The woman seemed to puff up like an angry nestling as she leveled a hard glare at him. “How can anyone be expected to remember his or her voice when confronted by a dragon? Much less one who cannot even recall that the Earl of Silvermere has an indentured servant in his house. Did you already eat him?”
Tancred jerked his head back as though she had struck him across the snout once more. “I do not keep slaves in my house.”
“And I am not a slave,” the woman ground out. She raised her chin as she added, “I am an indentured servant. There is a difference under the law.”
“Yet little difference in execution, which is why they are one and the same,” he retorted before he released his grip on her arms.
The woman didn’t attempt to run nor did she attempt to grab another book, thank Shaddai. Still, he kept his wings around them as he watched her. She looked up and away from him, almost as though she were rolling her eyes. Surely, he was imagining it. Humans did not roll their eyes at dragons unless they were rolling back into their skulls with terror. There was no terror coming from this human, though. It was . . . exasperation.
Her gaze snapped back to him and flicked over his form before she folded her arms over her breasts. “No matter how . . . unusual . . . your nature is, it is absolutely no excuse for your pretense of blatant ignorance of kingdom laws.”
A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Pretense of blatant ignorance? Perhaps, it is more that I do not understand all the so called nuances of men’s laws. Some of these pronounced laws make as little sense as a human woman who retains her calm and even dares to scold in the face of a dragon. Now, that is a puzzle I am far more interested in solving.”
Some of her calm and defiance seemed to chip away at his words. She adjusted her arms so she was clasping her biceps lightly, less defiant and more of a shield. Her words remained steady though slightly quieter as she replied, “I am not a puzzle that needs solving. It is merely logical to pretend calm since panic can provoke predators into attacking when they had not intended to do so at the beginning of an encounter.”
“You still could have screamed,” he pointed out. The need he felt for more answers surprised him with its urgency. Yet, there was something about her that he couldn’t quite pin down. “Why didn’t you? When you first saw me or when I first stopped you from running away?”
Her shoulders moved up in a slight shrug as she lowered her eyes. “I couldn’t even though I wanted to, I was far too terrified to make a sound.” Her gaze flicked back over him before she dared to meet his eyes once more. “The second time . . . Screaming isn’t going to help me tonight. Even if by some chance people came to investigate, their loyalties are to the Earl of Silvermere. I would be found alone in a room that you, that the earl, specifically forbade any of his servants from entering, and no one would believe my story of dragons. I am indentured. My word means less than that of peasants. At best, I would be called mad though it seems more likely given the rumors that I would be called a witch and treated as a practitioner of dark magic if I dared to speak out against a noble. You are masquerading as the earl and as such have more protection than even most nobles outside the royal family. Everyone knows you’re the second most powerful noble in the north and likely the kingdom as a whole. So you tell me, what good would it do me to scream?”
“Very little,” he admitted before grumbling, “although I am not masquerading as the earl. I am the earl. I inherited the title in accordance with your kingdom’s laws.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. If he had been in his human form, he would have grinned at the implicit challenge. She had so much spirit for someone caught in this situation. She didn’t speak the challenge, however. “What is it you intend to do with me?”
He blew out a ring of smoke as he contemplated his answer. He’d almost forgotten the problem during their conversation. Her responses were not exact, but very similar to things Tara had said. Tara . . . Of course. He bobbed his head then replied, “I shall make you my companion. Ow!”
This time she smacked him hard enough that he stumbled to the left as she hissed, “I am not so weary of being the cinder lass as to sell myself into companionship.” She struck him again, this time striking just behind his right eye, causing him to stumble further and furl his wings in close to his body.
The book fell to the floor with a solid thud. Tancred straightened, raising a clawed hand to his aching head, but the girl was already at the door. She yanked it open only far enough to slip out before the door swung shut once more. He took a step toward the door before recalling himself. Now, that would have been a truly foolish mistake.
He still wasn’t certain as to why she had gone from calm to fury in the blink of an eye. She should have understood the honor of being offered the role of his companion. Instead, she reacted as though he had offered her a cup of hemlock. He rubbed the aching spot behind his eye and cautiously poked at his decidedly sore snout, grumbling, “Shaddai save me from females and their irrational ways.”
* * *
Chapter Three
“A companion? A companion? As though I would ever stoop to such a thing. That horrible lizard of a man . . . Ooooh.” Damaris stamped her way up the stairs, clutching her robes in her fists.
“I should hope I am not the man you’re so furious with,” came a rather unwelcome voice.
Her eyes slipped closed for a too brief moment before she forced them back open just as a hand brushed against her sleeve. She bit back a sigh as she looked into a pair of pale blue eyes. They sparked with the same grin being so graciously bestowed upon her . . . as far as his mind fathomed in any case. She didn’t return the smile, merely nodded as she continued up the stairs. “Owen.”
The hand brushing against her sleeve turned into a light restraint, holding her still, as he gained the step beside her. He was still grinning as he murmured, “Oh come now, surely, you cannot be thinking that I am the lizard. Did one of the guardsmen approach you? Cal? Dolan?” He brushed his free hand over his close cropped tawny hair before exclaiming, “It cannot be Bertram!”
“It was none of them and keep your voice down before you draw people from the great hall.” She shook off his hand. “Have a good evening, Owen.”
“Now, Damaris, do not be so cold. You’re liable to give a man frostbite.” Owen touched her arm again as he continued, “Don’t you have a single kind word for me? I’ve always been your protector since you came here.”
A scoff burst free before she thought better of it. She could only shake her head as she retorted, “A shadow to stumble over is more truthful a description. And that has only changed since last spring when Cook forbade you from chasing his daughters anymore.”
Owen grinned unashamedly. “The man shouldn’t have sired so many pretty girls if he didn’t want them to be noticed by any man who happened to be graced by their company.”
“And, each of the lot already promised to another when you started noticing,” she murmured. “You do not fool me, Owen. You only chase after me because I cannot press you to give an offer.”
He spread his hands wide. “Well, it is hardly my fault that all the most lovely girls at the keep are also unattainable. I shall simply have to suffer with this wounded heart of mine.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are going to get me in trouble with Clotho again. Go away, Owen.”
“Oh, don’t worry about the old bat. She can’t do anything to me. I answer to Captain Huon, not her.”
“Just when there could be hope for you, you remind me why I wouldn’t accept your suit even if I was not indentured,” she murmured. As Owen chuckled, she added sweetly, “Though there is one among our number who would overlook all your flaws if you would only smile at her.”
He straightened like a hound catching the scent of a rabbit
. “Oh? What girl is this? Is she new? I hadn’t heard about any new girls arriving in the keep unless they’re part of the marquise’s attendants and that woman is rather terrifying.”
She grinned at him. “Agatha.”
Horror washed over his face, swiping it clean of the confident smirk that had been there. “Agatha? Clotho’s daughter?” He shuddered. “Oh no, she wouldn’t understand my, ah, peculiarities and would think I was . . .”
“In earnest?” she suggested.
He made a face. “Indeed.”
“How terrible.”
“Damaris!”
She flinched and Owen winced before they both looked up. Clotho stood at the top of the stairs, a thin black shadow peering down at them. Agatha hovered just behind her mother’s elbow until she caught sight of Owen. The younger girl’s eyes lit up, and she nearly fell down the stairs in her haste to reach the guardsman before he could flee.
As amusing as it would have been to see Owen squirm, Damaris felt a frisson of pity for Agatha. Then, Clotho beckoned with a sharp gesture and she reluctantly climbed the rest of the stairs. The housekeeper sniffed as she approached. “I told you to be sure the fires were good and hot in the library. Instead, I find you neglecting your work so you can flirt with one of the guards. Need I remind you, yet again, that as an indentured servant you are not free to entertain men?”
She bit back the correction that she could have permission to entertain a suitor. Correcting Clotho would only earn her a swift trip to the tower. Instead, she dipped a shallow curtsey. “Yes, Mistress Clotho. My apologies. I promise it will not happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t,” the older woman stated severely. “After you stoke the fires in the library, you will fetch trays and attend to whatever the earl and his guests require. The earl has decided to move from the great hall to the library within the hour, so do not dally.”
“I understand.” The words fell woodenly from her lips even as the prickling sense of unease crept up her spine. The earl . . . The dragon was going to see her again. What if he decided to silence her? For good. What if he wasn’t the only dragon there?
* * *
How could a single night’s encounter spin his entire life into a spiral as though he’d wounded a wing and now fell from above the clouds? Tancred barely kept from frowning as he searched the faces of the servants entering the great hall. The cinder lass had been Kushite, and there were several women of Kushite blood among those filling the hall. There was no pale blue among them, however.
He had spent most of the night waiting for Captain Huon or Clotho to report an uproar among the servants that the cinder lass had gone running to them with a tale about a dragon in the earl’s chambers. Neither had come and neither had reported any such whispers throughout the day nor even this evening. Perhaps . . . Perhaps, the cinder lass had lost her courage after fleeing his bookroom.
Yet, there had been a strength to her like taimana heated beneath dragon fires, hiding secrets unless you know what to look for with long training. No, the cinder lass who had dared to strike the first dragon she’d ever seen not once but four different times with books of varying heft would not be one to lose her courage. There must be another reason for her continued silence on his true nature. What it was? He had no idea.
“You see, love, you’ve bored even Tancred into a stupor.” The cheerful tenor crashed into Tancred’s musings like a stone against a lake. He glanced over to see Reed Dumont grinning at his wife as he continued, “No one is as fascinated with those horrible smelly evil bleating menaces as you are and that is because they’ve deceived you for years.”
The Marquise of Carabas merely slanted her gaze toward her mate as she replied drily, “Yes, because as a shepherdess, I know nothing of the nature of sheep.”
Her mate ignored the unspoken warning that even Tancred could feel rolling off the woman as he leaned forward, mischief light his pale green eyes, as he nearly purred, “Sheep are quite skilled at deceiving anyone who has never been nearly trampled by them. Yet, you have survived years of their company because you are the most cunning woman to grace this generation.”
Tancred coughed to hide a laugh while the marquise shoved her husband away. “Reed, now is not the time to play the fool. Not even the clever one.”
The man leaned in and stole a kiss before he straightened in his seat once more. He smoothed a hand over his mottled hair before he mumbled, “Always the practical one, Helena. As though taking over the north with your woolly empire wasn’t enough.”
“Reed.”
This time he shut his mouth.
Tancred glanced over at the man with a faint grin. Despite the lingering scent of dragon magic around the man, which undoubtedly explained the unnatural mottling of his dark brown hair with lighter patches ranging in color from cream to pale orange, Tancred had grown to enjoy his company. His wife, Helena, was the first noble appointed from among commoners in centuries and possessed a brilliantly sharp mind. Her proposal to create a sustainable wool trade between their estates, and then to combine their mix of woolen and tailored goods to supply the rest of the northern estates and villages had done more than a little to increase his personal hoard. An achievement that would’ve endeared her to many a dragon, and that was before the realization that he would no longer need to guard against overpriced merchants attempting to cheat him.
“I apologize if I have bored you, my lord Silvermere,” came Helena’s soft comment. “I thought you would wish to have a report on how the flock is prospering. Almost all of the ewes will lamb this year save for the yearling ewes. We should have eighty head when the lambing season is over, if not a little more.”
“No, I agree it is good news. The weavers will be most pleased to learn you will send them even more work this coming year.” Tancred set his goblet down and forced himself to truly focus on the business at hand. “You said there was a private matter you wished to discuss with me, my lady. If it is agreeable with you, perhaps we may retire to the library now. You’ll find the atmosphere is far more given to the sharing of close tidings than my great hall.”
“That is more than suitable,” the marquise murmured before she grabbed her mate by the hand and practically dragged him out of his seat as she rose. “Come, Reed.”
“Please tell me you didn’t sneak a lamb into the library. They eat books.”
Helena closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “Shaddai help me,” she mumbled under her breath before fixing her husband with a stern look. “I warned you not to leave the book on that rock, Reed Dumont. Do not blame the sheep for your poor choices.”
Reed grinned. “I rather feel I should thank Shaddai that you did not bring your crook with you this time. Or your sling.” His grin faltered when his wife pulled a coiled sling out of her sleeve. He cleared his throat twice before he attempted to speak again. “I would like to take this very particular moment to remind you that you love me. And, I think I shall be too much of a pest if you actually used that thing on me.”
“Oh my clever fool, I hope you are correct this time for I’m not so certain,” she responded far too sweetly. Then, she turned her back on her husband. Her dark gaze settled on Tancred, and she shook her head slightly. “I would offer my apologies for him, however, I fear he is a lost cause when it comes to proper manners,” she deadpanned.
Tancred couldn’t help grinning as Reed spluttered in outrage. The Marquise of Carabas’ dry wit and deadpan counters to her more effusive husband’s sly jabs was always amusing. He offered his arm as he responded, “You granted him far more time to come to his senses than most women. You shall be considered a woman of unfathomable patience for doing so. However, you could always dunk him in the lake. Mountain fed water is always a rigorous experience. It could possibly revive his manners.”
“That is most unkind of you, Silvermere,” Reed grumbled. “No on appreciates the sheer magnitude of my company.”
“My sheep would certainly appreciate your company, my dear,” the
marquise replied simply as they strolled toward the library. “Shall I apprentice you as an undershepherd after all?”
“Not in this lifetime, Helena. Not in this lifetime.”
Tancred led the couple into the library and paused mid-step at the sight of unmistakable pale blue. The cinder lass wasn’t tending the fires, however. Instead, she was setting down a tray with a flagon of wine and three glasses. She went still at their arrival and then belatedly sank into a deep curtsey. “Mistress Clotho sent me to attend you and your guests, my lord.”
No outcry or warning that he wasn’t what he seemed passed from her lips. How very interesting. When he granted her permission to stay, however, she rose from her curtsey and gave him a hard look. She narrowed her eyes in . . . warning, perhaps?
Tancred resisted the urge to nudge the cinder maid into speaking out of turn. Now was not the time to be distracted by his instinct’s insistence that there was treasure to be found. He forced his attention back to the marquise who was already seated. Her mate remained standing, leaning on his elbow against the back of the chair. It was a calculated show of disinterest, one that almost fooled even a dragon who knew the man would be the first to leap to his mate’s defense.
Claiming his own seat, he tried not to grow distracted by the faint scent of ashes and dried flowers that clung to the cinder maid. If she hadn’t been missing the rich note of magic in her scent, he might have believed she was like him. Tancred blinked the ridiculous thought away and focused on the marquise. “What is this private matter that brought you down from Carabas with winter still spreading her cloak on the mountains, Helena?”
The marquise’s gaze flicked to the maid and her pale blue robe and cowl before returning to Tancred. “How much contact have you had with the south this year?”
Dragon's Maid Page 5
