The sound of approaching footsteps made her look up quickly. The maid was approaching, clearly to chivy her mistress toward bed. The appreciative lift of her brows as she took in the princess’s companion told Jocelyn that she had not been the only one to notice Kincaid’s attractive features. Jocelyn stood abruptly, hoping to forestall conversation that might unnecessarily draw attention to her rank.
“It looks like your friend is coming to collect you,” observed Kincaid. “I’d better head for bed, too. They rise with the sun here.”
He spoke pleasantly, giving the maid a friendly nod. But his words were directed to Jocelyn, and his eyes once again searched her face with that keen interest as he took his leave of her.
“It was nice to meet you, Jocelyn. I imagine I’ll see you in the morning.”
The maid had caught his casual farewell, and she turned to her mistress with wide eyes as Kincaid strolled confidently away around the ring of firelight.
“Doesn’t he know who you are, Your Highness?”
Jocelyn just shrugged, and the maid let it drop, well used to receiving non-verbal replies from the quiet princess. As she followed the maid back to their lodgings, Jocelyn found herself hoping that no one in her entourage would give her away the next day.
She had very little pride in her status, and she liked the undemonstrative manner of the reserved mountain people. If she was honest with herself, she liked Kincaid’s casual friendliness even more, and it was too much to hope that he would be comfortable to maintain it if he knew who she was.
She didn’t even entertain the idea of actually asking the maid or the guards to keep her identity secret from the Valorian traveler. Even Jocelyn couldn’t imagine what chaos would eventuate from her vocalizing such a desire. Besides, Kincaid was altogether too interested in speaking with her. And as flattering as that might be, it wasn’t compatible with her determination to keep speech to a minimum while in Montego. She would be wisest to avoid him altogether tomorrow.
And yet, that very sensible and responsible thought didn’t stop her from pausing and turning in the doorway of her dwelling to watch Kincaid’s confident figure disappear into the gloom outside the circle of flickering light.
Chapter Five
“Let me help you with that.”
The voice, pleasant as it was, made Jocelyn sigh. Kincaid was a difficult man to evade. She felt like she’d been trying to get away from him all day. To her bewilderment, he not only continued to show no sign of discomfort in her presence, but he seemed not to be in the least deterred by her increasing aloofness. She had spoken maybe five words to him during the entire course of the day.
She relinquished the bucket she was carrying without protest. Uninterested in spending a day sitting around doing nothing, she had joined in with community activities wherever possible. None of the villagers had objected, or even seemed to find anything notable in the princess assisting them with menial labor.
At present she was helping carry water from a nearby spring toward the central fire in preparation for the evening meal. She didn’t particularly want Kincaid’s help to carry her bucket, but refusing would be much more difficult to achieve than agreeing if she wanted to avoid both speech and rudeness.
“I looked for you after lunch, but you’d disappeared,” said Kincaid cheerfully, hoisting the bucket up with one hand and starting toward the fire. Jocelyn followed silently, admitting to herself that he was encountering much less difficulty carrying the load with one hand than she had when using both of hers.
Apparently Kincaid had stopped expecting a response, because he pushed on without waiting for one. “There’s a small meadow nearby, which I discovered a week or so ago. I wanted to show it to you. There are still a few spring blooms left there, and even some of the elusive dianmons.”
Jocelyn looked up in spite of herself at this mention of the beautiful white flower that was Kyona’s emblem, and that grew only in the mountains. Kincaid, seeming encouraged by her interest, continued enthusiastically.
“From what I understand, the villagers sometimes gather them to decorate on special occasions. I was going to ask you if you wanted to help me find some for tonight, but I suppose there isn’t time now before the evening meal.”
He spoke lightly, and Jocelyn frowned in confusion. What was the special occasion that night? She didn’t ask, of course.
“It doesn’t matter, though,” Kincaid finished cheerfully. “I’m probably of more use helping you here anyway.”
Jocelyn held back another sigh. She was clearly not going to get rid of him easily. Maybe it was time for her to be a little more active in deterring him.
“It’s probably for the best that I wasn’t available to go with you,” she said, and Kincaid came to a stop, turning so quickly toward her that he slopped water out of the bucket in his evident astonishment at her prolonged speech. “Aren’t you trying to make a good impression on the locals? It might put them off if you want to spend all your time with the only other outsider.”
Kincaid’s look of amazement slowly changed into a deeply thoughtful expression. Jocelyn waited for it to progress to the inevitable confusion, her heart contrarily sinking at the success of her efforts. But she was the one to feel confusion at Kincaid’s reaction.
“Would it make them push me out again?” he asked, apparently speaking to himself. A moment later, he shook his head, as if clearing the thought away. “No, I don’t think so. You seem to be welcome here.” He smiled easily at her. “And I wouldn’t let that stop me anyway. I’m sorry if you’ve had the impression that your company was somehow going to be a hindrance to me. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? That must have been uncomfortable, not to mention lonely.”
She stared at him, nonplussed. Of course he had no idea how true his words were, or how incredibly lonely her life was, but it was still unnerving how well he seemed to have read her. And so much for the mountains increasing her power—her attempt to change his mind about sticking by her side had been completely unsuccessful. Perhaps she had been too direct with her comments. She had figured out over the years that the power of suggestion was often much stronger than direct statements.
“Some people prefer to be alone, maybe to everyone’s satisfaction,” she tried again.
Kincaid laughed in real amusement, hefting the bucket up and beginning to walk again. “If you’re trying to convince me that you want to spend all your time alone, or that there’s something wrong with you that makes you somehow unfit to be included with other people, I don’t believe you on either count.”
“Why not?” asked Jocelyn, without thinking. The words had come out involuntarily in her amazement at the unexpected response. What was happening? Were her words having less impact, or was he strangely immune? Or not immune, exactly. After all, she had planted her suggestion effectively enough. But his reaction to it had been entirely unpredictable.
Kincaid stopped again, turning to her with astonishment written all over his face. “You were trying to convince me of that! Why in the kingdom would you want me to think that about you? Surely you don’t believe it yourself?”
She just stared blankly back at him, for once not even tempted to speak. She honestly had no idea what she would say. By this time the others whom Jocelyn had been assisting to fetch water had emptied their buckets, returned to the spring, and were on their way back past again. Jocelyn saw some of them frowning in displeasure at Kincaid’s dawdling, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“You are a most unusual girl, Jocelyn of Kynton,” he said slowly, his expression uncomfortably searching as he examined her face. “To answer your question, I don’t believe that you want to be alone because I’ve been watching you, and I can see how you look at everyone around you. It’s just the way my little sister watches the older, more fortunate girls all dressed up in their finery, on their way to a dance. It’s the look of someone who’s desperate to join in, but knows that she can’t.”
He paused, as if waiting to see if Joc
elyn would deny or explain. But she just stood frozen, all her focus required just to prevent her mouth from hanging open. No one had ever said such things to her. Realizing that she was not going to speak, Kincaid pressed on.
“And I don’t believe that there’s anything wrong with you that would justify you being alone, because such a suggestion is simply absurd.” His eyes swept calmly up and down her person, as though reading a signpost. “There’s nothing whatsoever wrong with you that I can see.”
“Not everything can be seen,” Jocelyn shot back before she could stop herself. She had been rattled by his scrutiny, betrayed into hasty speech, but she instantly wished she could take the words back. He was looking at her more searchingly than ever, and she had no idea what was in his mind.
She felt a prickle of fear, and this time it was for herself. All her concern before had been for what damage she might do to this community, but for the first time in her life, she felt at risk of someone figuring out her secret. What the consequences of that might be for her—or even for Eamon—she couldn’t begin to imagine.
“Excuse me,” she said quickly, deciding that the only thing to do was to extricate herself before she made it worse. “I need to prepare for the meal.”
“Wait!” said Kincaid, so loudly that a number of nearby people turned and stared. Jocelyn ignored him, her face heating as she hurried toward the safety of her lodgings.
She closed the door and leaned back against it, her eyes squeezed shut. How had she let her guard down so drastically? She felt desperately alone as she wondered what, if anything, she should do about her careless words. Her heart ached with longing for her twin. If only Eamon were here, he would fix it in a heartbeat. He would smooth over the uncomfortable moment and put everyone at their ease. With a few well-chosen words, he would have even Kincaid feeling certain that nothing was amiss.
She straightened her back. But Eamon wasn’t here, and that was the whole point of this trip. Well, at least as far as her mother was concerned. She opened her eyes, and barely refrained from jumping. She wasn’t alone after all—the maid was here, staring in surprise at the princess’s unusual behavior.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?” she asked tentatively.
Jocelyn did her best to muster up a gracious smile as she nodded.
The maid approached the door, peering out a small window set alongside it. “Is it that Valorian traveler, Your Highness? Did he say something impertinent? I didn’t think it was appropriate the way he spoke to you last night, and I’ve noticed that he’s been following you today. He’s staring at this building right now. Do you want me to ask one of the guards to speak with him?”
“Of course not!” Jocelyn said in alarm. She couldn’t help the words—the maid was still looking cautiously out the window, and hadn’t seen the princess frantically shaking her head.
“I suppose that would be an overreaction, wouldn’t it, Your Highness?” the maid said quickly, turning to look at her mistress with a little too much eagerness. “I could always speak with him if you wish.”
Jocelyn raised an eyebrow, her mouth curving into an involuntary smile, and the maid giggled.
“Forgive my jesting, Your Highness,” she said. “It’s just that he’s very handsome, isn’t he?”
“Is he?” asked Jocelyn dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”
She had intended the words to be obviously humorous—surely Kincaid’s appeal was evident to any female observer—but a familiar and wearisome expression of confusion came over the maid’s face.
“Yes, he is—that is, he seemed attractive to me last night. But now that I think about it…” The girl peered out the window again. “Perhaps he’s fairly ordinary after all.” She frowned. “I’m not sure why I thought he was…oh well,” she gave her head a little shake. “You can stay in here to avoid him until the meal, Your Highness, and I can sit with you this time, to make sure he keeps a proper distance.”
Jocelyn couldn’t pretend to herself that she was excited about the prospect of an evening in close proximity with the girl, who was good-hearted but had the sense of a peahen. But on reflection she realized that she probably did need some assistance to keep Kincaid at bay, given the evident strength of his curiosity. She only had to avoid him for the evening and she would be safe, because her party was due to depart early the next morning.
She felt a pang at the idea of leaving without any further conversation with the young Valorian. She would love the chance to puzzle out the mystery behind his unpredictable reactions. But he was clearly trying to do the same with her, and that was dangerous. Not to mention the way his unusually searching scrutiny made her feel exposed in all sorts of ways.
So she submitted to the chaperonage, and true to her word, the maid stuck to her mistress’s side like a plaster for the entire meal. Kincaid, seated halfway around the fire, made no attempt to approach them, but Jocelyn could feel his eyes on her as she ate. Everything about the evening seemed the same as the one before, and Jocelyn wondered what Kincaid had meant about gathering flowers for that night.
But once the food had been cleared away, it became suddenly obvious that everyone else knew something that Jocelyn didn’t. A faint air of excitement was rippling around the circle, and a number of the locals disappeared into their homes only to return with instruments made of wood. Jocelyn had never seen any instruments like them before, but she could tell that they were used for making music.
The villagers carrying the instruments resumed their seats, and without fanfare or explanation, began to play. The sound was much louder than Jocelyn would have guessed from looking at the instruments, but even in the usually quiet community, it wasn’t out of place. The music was smooth, the melody otherworldly. It was as though the shadows that ebbed and flowed with the light of the flames had somehow been turned into sound.
Some of the villagers who weren’t playing instruments began to sing, their voices swelling the music seamlessly. Jocelyn was mesmerized, the wordless melody somehow penetrating straight to her heart. It wasn’t a happy sound, exactly. But it was more genuine than any music she had ever heard. She felt tears standing in her eyes as it wove around her, communicating more strongly than words the connection of this strange people to their mountain home. It was a love so intense it savored of longing, and it spoke to the depth of her own yearning.
She was tempted to join the song, sure that her own much weaker voice would be lost in the chorus and not cause any embarrassment. But the powerful energy of the mountains had never felt stronger than it did with this music swirling through it. Even though there were no words to the melody, it seemed like much too dangerous a risk.
After a few minutes, villagers began to rise from their seats and drift forward into the firelight. Those who were singing or playing instruments stayed where they were, but the ring of light still seemed suddenly full of moving figures. Jocelyn watched in amazement as they began to dance, the movements graceful and fluid, like water coursing down a rock face. Both men and women twirled and swayed, and somehow still looked fearsome rather than absurd.
As Jocelyn watched, spellbound, a rhythm seemed to emerge. She realized that everyone was not moving randomly, as she had thought. The dance was coordinated, the movements consistent. She was fascinated, trying to copy the gestures in her mind, wondering if she would be able to mimic the choreography if she were to dare to join the dance. Not that she intended to do any such thing, of course. She wasn’t sure if outsiders were even allowed to join in, and either way she didn’t want to make a fool of herself.
But just as she had the thought, her eyes flicked away from the dancers, caught by a movement on the edge of the circle. Kincaid had stood up, and was beginning to make his way toward her. She gulped. She was certain from the look on his face that he was determined to get to the bottom of their strange conversation that afternoon, and was not above using the cover of the communal dance to corner her when it would be rude for her to slip away.
She couldn�
�t risk speaking with him again—she simply couldn’t. Her eyes flicked to her maid, but the girl was watching the dancing with wide eyes, her expression more unnerved than admiring. With the best will in the world, Jocelyn didn’t think the maid would be a match for Kincaid, anyway.
The Valorian was halfway toward her when she made her impulsive decision. She was sure her actions would shock her escorts, who knew her as reserved and retiring, but she was convinced that it was actually the more responsible course. No speaking was required, after all. And the inexplicable yearning she felt to join the villagers and let out her pent up emotions through expressive movement had nothing to do with it.
As predicted, the maid gasped audibly as Jocelyn rose to her feet and slid forward into the throng of dancers. In her peripherals, she saw Kincaid come to an abrupt halt, his amazement clear in the lines of his figure. But to her relief, the villagers showed neither disapproval nor surprise as she approached. The movement of the dance flowed around her, seeming to draw her into the mass without a check, so that she was instantly enveloped by swirling, twisting figures.
They didn’t even look at her directly, acting as if it was natural for her to want to join in, and their disinterest helped Jocelyn swallow any self-consciousness. Putting both Kincaid and her companions from her mind, she closed her eyes and focused on the music. It was incredible how everything else instantly fell away. Almost involuntarily, she began to move, trying to mimic the gliding spins and rolling turns she had been watching. She didn’t open her eyes to check, but she thought she was doing all right for a total novice.
She realized she was scrunching her face slightly in her effort to remember the moves, and suddenly she wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. The mountain people were clearly not focusing on their steps—that was the beauty of the whole dance. They were lost in the music. The dance, probably built through generations of musical expression, was surely learned by observation from earliest childhood and flowed out naturally without effort.
Legacy of the Curse Page 6
