Damaris nodded slowly, pretending his words made sense. She had done it. She had entered a bargain with a dragon. Now, she could only pray that she would not come to regret doing so.”
* * *
Chapter Five
“What in all of Sonera are you wearing?”
He felt a frisson of amusement as Damaris slanted him a sideways glance before she resumed plucking books out of one of the chairs in his bookroom. For all her hesitation to become his companion, it hadn’t even taken a full hour for her to give him looks worthy of any dragoness. Still, he didn’t let the sight distract him. It couldn’t distract him, not from the pale blue of her robe and cowl. These were clean compared to the ash stains on her other garment and, yet, they made his throat ache with the need to breath fire.
He snapped his fingers and pointed at her robe. “What are you wearing? You are no longer indentured.”
She shrugged. “I have no other clothes to wear.”
“Why not?”
This time she rolled her eyes before she turned her back on him. “When I was indentured, my stepmother kept everything that had once been mine. Indentured servants do not own anything until they have served out of their term of service.”
He scowled. “A ridiculous rule. Where are you from? I shall send someone to fetch your belongings from this stepmother of yours.”
Damaris shook her head again.
He huffed. “Now, what is the matter with such a plan?”
“Lady Tremblay is no longer at my father’s manor. She’s been gone almost as long as I have, and I helped load the majority of what had been in my former wardrobe into Howell’s wagon. She sold it to ensure she and her daughter would be able to return to the southern cities.”
“What a drake.”
A soft laugh rewarded his grumbled declaration. Damaris finally turned back toward him, her arms filled with books. “I will see if Bettrys knows of a spare kirtle I might borrow. If not, the next load of tailored goods is due from Carabas in a month’s time and I will purchase more acceptable gowns. Until then, however, I shall make do with my robe.”
He looked her over, still not liking the symbolism behind the robe’s color. However . . . “Very well, as long as you continue to leave off the cowl. I prefer being able to see your face.”
“The cowl doesn’t block my face.”
“It does from the sides,” he countered as he pulled a fresh sheet of parchment out. He peeked at her to see that she was shaking her head, but the cowl still hung down her back allowing her thick curly dark hair to be seen. He nodded at the sight and then began scratching out a message for Carabas.
* * *
Damaris frowned at the dragon’s back. The stubborn creature of a man had refused to answer any of her questions when he’d interrupted her battle to assert order in his bookroom. Three days of work, and she had only managed to clear a single chair for half a day before more books appeared.
She followed him through the corridors and down a set of stairs before he abruptly stopped in front of one of the better guest chambers. He grinned at her, confidence shining in his brown eyes, before he swung the door open. “This is for you.”
He grasped her by the hand when she didn’t move and tugged her through the doorway before she could protest. “Here we are. What do you think?”
She could hardly form a coherent thought, much less words, as she took in the bewildering sight of a maid she vaguely recognized standing beside a bed whose coverlet was completely hidden by cloth bundles. She looked from the bed to the maid, who didn’t so much as look at her, and then finally to the dragon. “I am not certain what this is, my lord.”
“I told you three days past indenture robes are not suitable attire for you now that you are my companion.”
The maid’s head came up sharply for the span of a breath, eyes wide, before dropping back to the floor. She was likely thinking the worst of Damaris now. How wonderful. An early start to the rumors.
Damaris pressed her lips together as she struggled to choose the right words. “You are being far too generous, my lord. I could not possibly use all of this, and I am comfortable in the servants’ quarters.” Never mind that the room she shared with six other servant girls was so tight that she spent more nights sleeping by the hearth in the kitchen, where it was warmer in winter. And, she didn’t risk feet or elbows digging into her back in the middle of the night.
The earl ignored her as he clapped his hands together. “No, my mind is decided. This is to be your chamber now. Choose something to wear, and then you may return to work in my bookroom. I must see what has my hippogriff handlers in an uproar, but I will return this afternoon to inspect your work.”
He strode from the room without so much as another word to her. Although, the man had the gall to wink at her before leaving. Oh, how she wished she had a rock as hard as his daft dragon skull. Insufferable man . . . dragon.
She caught the maid peeking at her again and bit back the need to explain. How in all the Five Kingdoms could she explain anything? It wasn’t as though she could simply explain the earl was truly a dragon, and she was more maid than companion.
Instead, she forced a kind smile as she nodded. “Lissy, it is good to see you today.” She closed the door and then crossed the room, still speaking lightly, “It appears the earl was not willing to wait for me to find a kirtle to wear now that I am free of my indenture. Nobles have little patience on such matters, it seems.” She paused, then glanced back at the maid who still stood silent with her eyes fixed on the rushes covering the chamber floor. “How is your burn? Did Bettrys’ ointment help?”
For the first time, there was the tiniest bob of a chin in answer.
Damaris smiled. “Good. I am glad it worked for you as I’d hoped.” She glanced at the packages, almost afraid of what was inside, before she forced herself to ask brightly, “Shall we see what is in these?”
She didn’t wait for Lissy to answer. The poor girl was trembling so much she couldn’t help but wonder if Agatha had been bullying the young maid again. Or she was simply too terrified of drawing Clotho’s ire to even dare speak to Damaris. After the incident with the ash, well, Damaris could hardly blame the girl.
She’d only dared to eat during the last three days when she was hidden away in the earl’s bookroom. She wasn’t certain if Tancred had told Clotho she was no longer indentured. However, that was a conversation she most certainly would not be having with the housekeeper herself. Let the dragon do it!
She untied one of the packages and nearly bit her tongue in surprise. Fine wool of the highest quality spilled out of the wrapping, its deep blue colors equal to a sapphire and the neckline embroidered with gold thread. Oh, no.
Surely, he hadn’t ordered all of them in the same cloth and cut . . .
Yet with each package she opened, the opulent quality of the gown within made her almost afraid to even touch the fabric. They were of colors and quality suited more to a countess than a merchant’s daughter.
Oh, that dragon. What had he been thinking? There were only four packages remaining and she dreaded opening them. Picking one on the opposite end of the bed, she carefully undid the ties and then pulled the outer cloth back to expose . . . silver. Her jaw dropped open as she stared at a gown made of what could only be silvercloth. It was too fine to even touch.
She left it partially unwrapped, the rich silver shining faintly beneath the light from the windows. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. A gown of silvercloth, truly? Was he trying to ruin her good name entirely?
She was not a countess. In truth, only the Countess of Silvermere would be able to afford such a gown. No, she was never going to wear that gown. The dragon needed Bettrys to inspect him for a head injury. Perhaps, she’d done more than surprise him when she smacked him in the side of the head with a book. Although, that was almost a sennight past now. Still, it could be responsible.
More than half afraid there would be a gown of gold to accompany the sil
ver, Damaris grabbed another of the cloth bundles and quickly opened it. A slow breath of relief escaped her when she saw the dark green of wool. There was a ribbon of gold thread framing the scooped neck of the bliaut and matching ribbon on the sleeves. However, that was the extent of the gown’s adornment. It was practically plain next to the silvercloth.
“Lissy, help me change into this will you?”
The girl didn’t move at first, but then she slowly approached. Her gaze kept straying to the silver gown. Damaris rolled the pale blue robe and cowl into a tight ball, and then placed it in the discarded cloth bundle. If she never saw that particular shade of blue again, it would be too soon. She smoothed her hands over the front of her bliaut, marveling at the softness of the wool. No wonder the Marquise of Carabas had been so successful in revitalizing the northern villages.
She jumped as the chamber door burst open and Agatha screeched, “You see! It is as I said!” She pointed a shaking finger at Damaris. “She is a conniving, deceptive wench and a thief.”
“No,” Damaris stated firmly. “I am neither, and I am most certainly not a thief.”
Clotho slashed her hand through the air. “Be silent! Have you no respect for the mercy and kindness shown to you here? I spared you not even four nights past, and you are attempting to flee your indenture. Guards.” She gestured to the two men who followed in their wake. “Arrest this woman and take her to the bailey to be punished. She is to receive the full punishment for attempting to escape her indenture. Twenty lashes as is mandated by the law.”
She could hardly believe her ears. Even the guards looked askance at Clotho before they shook their heads. Agatha stamped her foot. “What are you waiting for? You see her standing there in a gown that she most likely stole from the Marquise of Carabas and more are on the bed. She’s an indentured servant. She is not permitted to wear anything but the robe of blue!”
“Calm yourself, Agatha,” Clotho snapped.
“Mistress Clotho, I have done nothing wrong. I am not a thief or attempting to run away.” Damaris turned to the maid who had retreated toward the dressing table. “Lissy. Tell them where these gowns came from, please.”
The girl opened her mouth and then turned pale as the moon when Agatha hissed, “She’s only going to tell us what we see. That you are a thief and a runaway.”
Clotho gestured to her. “Take the woman into custody. Now.”
The men exchanged uneasy glances and then they stepped into the room only to freeze when a deep voice interjected, “Mistress Clotho, need I remind you that you do not have authority over my men? Nor do you decide when a runaway’s punishment will be doled out. That decision is for the earl alone to make.”
Damaris locked her knees to keep from sagging in relief at the appearance of the captain of the guard. The large Kushite man looked all the fiercer for his shaved scalp and scarred eye. However, he had never bothered her. And, a few times his presence had deterred the worst of the teasing by his own men.
Seizing the advantage of the captain’s presence, she stood taller and raised her chin as she stated firmly, “You also do not have any authority over me, Mistress Clotho. I am no longer indentured. I was freed of my papers by the earl and given a new position reporting directly to him.”
Captain Huon raised an eyebrow at her statement. Clotho’s head went back, but she said nothing until Agatha began to shriek. “Silence, child!” Clotho shook her head. “I do not believe you. There were no witnesses to this supposed agreement. No one to vouch for you, and the earl is not free to be questioned. You are lying to escape punishment.”
“No, I am not,” she stated. Damaris turned to look at Lissy once more. Keeping her voice gentle, she asked, “Will you not tell them what you heard and saw? What the earl said?”
“Speak, little one,” Captain Huon rumbled. “Did you witness a conversation between the earl and this woman?”
For a long moment it seemed as though fear would keep Lissy silent. Until finally, she offered a jerky nod. “Yes,” came the whispered reply.
“What did the earl say?”
“That she’s not indentured anymore. That she’s his companion now, and that’s why he’s given her this chamber and these clothes.”
Damaris could have closed her eyes at the rush of words. However, she dared not show even the slightest hint of dismay. Both Agatha and Clotho looked as though they had bitten into something sour. Captain Huon, however, looked almost contemplative before he nodded. “Return to the training yard and join the exercises with Commander Warin,” he ordered his men who scurried to obey. He then turned to Clotho and added, “It would seem that she is no longer your concern.”
The captain’s steps had only just faded from hearing before Clotho smoothed her hands over her black gown. Her nostrils flared so much that it was a wonder she wasn’t breathing fire herself. “Lissy, return to the kitchens. There are fires to tend now that we’ve lost our cinder maid.” She allowed the girl to slip out of the room before she added quietly, “You may have found some way to bewitch the earl into allowing you by his side. However, you will not be waited on by any of my staff. You most certainly will enjoy no pampering while I am still housekeeper. Agatha, come.”
She swept out of the room with Agatha slowly trailing after her. The younger girl paused in the doorway and hissed, “Don’t make yourself too comfortable. You are nothing more than a lightskirt of a pretender, and you will fall. I promise.”
“Agatha!”
She cast Damaris one last glare before lifting her narrow chin in the air and hurrying from the room, leaving the door standing open.
Damaris stood still for a long moment and then she dropped to the edge of the mattress. She pressed shaking hands against her stomach as she took steadying breaths. Between the dragon’s comments, Lissy’s testimony, and whatever Agatha spread, her reputation was most certainly to be in tatters. Possibly before the day’s end. Not that she had much of one after coming to the keep with an indenture to Howell.
She shook her head and patted her hair, assuring herself that it hadn’t come loose from the simple tie she’d used to keep it in some semblance of order. Shaddai preserve her. Her gaze fell on the silvercloth gown and she muttered, “And save me from the meddling of dragons.”
After retying most of the bundles save for two more practical gowns, one of green and the other the color of red clay, she shoved them into the bottom of her wardrobe before hanging the two gowns she could actually wear without fear of people assuming she was playing at being the countess. Then, she hurried to the bookroom. He was there, looking all too human as a slow grin crawled across his face when she entered. He scratched at his stubbled cheeks, then nodded. “It suits you. Though, I had hoped you would wear a brighter gown. But, this color is very good on you. Did you not find the shoes?”
“My shoes are perfectly serviceable,” she countered.
“They are old and wearing thin on the soles,” he replied. “It is why I bought you two new pairs.”
“Two!” She shook her head. “No, that is too much!”
His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head as he studied her with an expression of utter bewilderment. “What do you mean?”
She stepped closer to the desk and lowered her voice as she leaned in. “Do you truly not see it? You have completely overstepped today. You cannot simply give me one of your best guest chambers to call my own and the gowns . . . Oh for the love of Shaddai, why did you send for so many gowns? I cannot wear them.”
“Why? Bettrys said she had your measurements. Do they not fit?”
“I can only wear this one and two others,” she whispered. “The others are too fine for me.”
“Nonsense. You are my companion, and you needed new clothing.”
“Yes, clothing suited to a merchant’s daughter not a countess attending the king’s court.”
He sat back in his chair, twirling an unsharpened quill. “I fear it is you who do not understand, Damaris. I cannot dress you in less
than your worth. You are my companion, and it is a mark of shame against any dragon to permit their families or companions to dress in rags or poor quality. To allow it would be to declare myself a neglector, a poor steward at best, or worse simply incompetent when it comes to preserving my treasure.”
Damaris drew back a step, spine stiffening, as she softly countered, “I am not a treasure.”
He smiled this time. “No, you are not a possession. However, you are treasure, my treasure.”
“It is the same.”
“No. We dragons value our families and our companions. You are all counted as treasure to us.”
She opened her mouth to argue only to stop herself before the first word could escape. It was of no use. He wasn’t going to change his mind, and she most certainly would have better success arguing a rock into submission.
He chuckled as she moved back to the chair that had sprouted three more scrolls in the time she’d been gone. Damaris rolled her eyes. Dragons, she decided, were extremely odd creatures.
* * *
Chapter Six
A smile played across his lips as he listened to the petitions. There were not many of them, which might have been for the best given how often his mind strayed from the petitioner before him to the stubborn woman who continued attacking his bookroom as though she were waging a campaign. And, she might have been far more successful if he had been able to resist disorganizing her freshly created order.
A feat that thus far proved impossible to resist. Of course, when he had explained last night that he had been looking for a particular document she had moved to a different shelf, she gave him such a glare that he could almost feel its heat against his scales. Had she been dragon or wyvern, he had not doubt that she would have already singed his scales for his behavior.
Perhaps, he should explain more fully that the testing of her bounds and reactions to such mischief helped with solidifying their bond. He entertained the thought for half a breath before he dismissed it. This was the most fun he’d had in a decade. Not to mention, the way Damaris’ mouth would firm and her eyes narrow when she was annoyed at him had a surprisingly appealing effect on him. If he was . . .
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