“We have decided—you shall marry again. But we are not blind to that which you endured with Lord Roger. Therefore, we will give a list of suitable candidates to Lord Baldric. When the time comes, you will at least have a choice in whom you wed. Baldric will assign two of our guards to accompany you back to Stolweg and to remain there until you are ready to marry.”
Godwin turned to Claire. “And you, Claire, are to either remain at Whitmarsh or return to Stolweg with your sister. Once Stolweg is settled, we will to see to your future. You will marry and return to Chevring.”
King Godwin looked pleased with himself. He turned to his Queen. “Juliana, have you anything that you would like to add?”
“No, I believe you’ve explained everything, my dear.” She regarded Anna. “Lady Aubrianne, did you wish to add something?”
“Er, no, my Queen, thank you.” Queen Juliana arched her pointed eyebrow.
“Pardon, my Queen,” Anna blurted out. “It is just that you remind me of someone.”
The Queen smiled. “And who might that be?”
“Larkin of Morland, my Queen,” Anna answered.
“Yes, I suppose that he should resemble me. His mother, Lady Kathryn of Morland, is my half sister. Larkin asked that I not reveal our relation. He did not want to be favored for his connection to me. I trust you will hold his secret.”
Anna nodded, and the Queen continued, “No one has yet seen the resemblance. I am curious. What gave it away?”
“It is not so much your features, my Queen,” Anna explained. “It’s in your bearing and gestures. And when you arched your eyebrow at me, I knew there had to be some connection.”
The Queen nodded, looking pleased. “I knew your mother,” she said. “And your grandmother. They would be proud of you. Tell me, Lady Aubrianne, can you recite the names?”
Surprised that the Queen knew of this secret, Anna answered, “Of course.”
“Good. Be sure to teach them to your sister.”
Claire stepped forward. “It is not necessary, my Queen. I know my ancestry. I may never be able to fight like my sister,” Claire explained, then turned to Anna, “but I can defend myself. And I know my lineage. After you left, Mother insisted on training me herself.”
“Good again,” the Queen said, and rose with the King, signaling the end of their audience.
• • •
Claire cast her eye over the celebration being held in their honor. She wished she could help her sister to feel more at ease, but this past week at court, Anna had seemed a fish out of water. Oh, she played the part of Lady Aubrianne of Stolweg perfectly. She conversed easily with lords and ladies alike. But when alone with Queen Juliana’s ladies, she fell silent and thoughtful. If she spoke at all, she did so warily.
This was the life for which Claire had always dreamed, though having it now was bittersweet. She looked about for her sister. Maybe she was with the handsome guard Warin; she seemed to enjoy spending time with him. Perhaps there was some spark between them.
She finally spied Anna, dancing a lively step with Warin. So she walked over to where several of the Queen’s ladies were standing. When her sister’s name was mentioned, Claire kept her silence, stopping just behind the women.
“I agree, Lady Aubrianne is beautiful. But really, she shouldn’t monopolize all of Warin’s time. Every evening the same, they talk and talk. And now, he’s danced with naught but her.” She winked at her friends and whispered, “I have it on good authority that they retire to their separate rooms.”
Another lady, whom Claire recognized as Lady Beth, spoke up, “You are only jealous that Warin has not been chasing you, Caroline.” The other women tittered prettily.
“Well, it isn’t fair that he spends all his time with her,” she complained, “especially with Lark being away. Court has been such a bore without the pair playing their games.”
“Have you not heard?” Lady Beth asked. “Our Lark has not returned because he has lost his heart.” The women all turned their attention to Lady Beth as she nodded her head toward Anna. Claire didn’t remain to hear what was said next, and slipped away unnoticed. No wonder Anna felt so ill at ease among these women. Just who was this Lark, other than nephew to the Queen?
Claire had noticed Anna’s melancholy, though it was well disguised, and thought it owing to the loss of their family and home. It had not occurred to Claire that another reason existed for her sister’s sorrow. The musicians finished their tune, and Warin delivered Anna to Claire, Elnoura, and the Queen. Claire studied her sister. Her happiness was feigned. When Anna turned to speak to her, Claire narrowed her eyes.
“What is it, Claire?” Anna asked in alarm.
“Tell me about Lark, Anna.”
Her sister blinked, then took a deep breath. “I would have told you, Claire, but I didn’t want you to worry about me. Come, the night is ending. Let us say our goodbyes and return to our room where we can speak in private.”
They returned to their quarters, and once comfortably situated, Anna began the story of how she met and fell in love with Lark, and he with her. She told Claire about the night she had sabotaged the weapons, and her return to the chapel where she almost died by Lark’s hand.
“That was the beginning of the end for Lark. He could not forgive himself, and he could not forgive me. I’ve not heard from him since.”
Claire thought it amazing that her sister could have found such happiness after what she had endured with Lord Roger. “Do you still love him, Anna?”
“I will always love him,” her sister replied. Anna then told her about the oath Lord Roger had imposed upon his men, a vow to kill her and her family.
“So there could be others waiting to kill you,” Claire worried. “How terrible for Lark to realize that you may never be safe, even from him.”
Claire could see from Anna’s face that this had not occurred to her sister. “It’s ironic, isn’t it, Anna? Lark is responsible for giving you the strength to want to survive Roger’s evil. Now, it’s that very strength that he cannot accept.”
“You amaze me more and more every day. For months, I’ve been trying to understand him. I haven’t been able to put my feelings to words, and you do it in two sentences.”
“And Warin?” Claire asked.
“Ah, Warin. He is a good friend, Claire. And a good man, too.”
“Anna, Lark will return. To King Godwin. Or to Lord Baldric. Your paths are sure to cross. If he still loves you, as you love him, what then?”
“I don’t know, Claire. I was so angry at him for leaving, for giving up. I still am angry.”
“Can you forgive him, Anna?” Claire asked, wanting her sister to find happiness.
“I already have. But I’m afraid it isn’t enough. And I have to get on with my life, with or without Lark.”
“When are we leaving for Stolweg?” Claire asked, knowing she would happily give up life at court if it meant remaining at her sister’s side.
“Within the week,” Anna replied.
Chapter Sixty-One—Knead
The Harvest Festival was upon them, and Doreen had risen early to finish baking bread for the party. Across from her, Lady Anna worked her dough. Her mistress had returned to Stolweg nearly a month ago, along with the guards Warin and Trian, and she had made almost daily visits to the kitchen.
Doreen had come to depend on her assistance, now that she was carrying a little extra weight. She smiled contentedly and rested her hand on her growing belly. Her child would be born in a few months. And her babe wouldn’t be the only new arrival at Stolweg, for there were several other women who were with child as well. The children who had survived the destruction of Chevring had been placed with families close to the keep. All except Luke, who had taken to Carrick, and had gone to live in the miller’s home. Maggie had been sent to live with a distant relative to the east, and Carrick was only too happy to take on the boy as an apprentice. When Luke made it known that his uncle had been Chevring’s miller, it was clear
to all that the two fit naturally together.
Growing families were not the only changes. Grainne had told Doreen that two families had approached Lady Anna requesting permission for their older children to wed during the winter solstice. Lady Anna refused to give permission, preferring instead to give her blessing. Doreen looked up to find Lady Anna studying at her from across the worktable.
“Is the baby kicking you again, Doreen?” she inquired. “You should sit and rest. Let me finish here. And Claire, well, she’ll find me soon enough. I’ll put her to work for once.”
Doreen smiled at the thought of Lady Anna’s sister. Lady Claire had so much energy that she had everyone’s heads spinning. After a month, they had come to love her exuberance as much as they loved Lady Anna for her strength. “I’m fine, m’lady. ’Tis true,” she insisted when she noted her mistress’s skepticism. “Today is just one of those days when I’m filled with excess energy.” Doreen laughed as she spoke. “It would be a shame to waste it. Tomorrow, I’m just as likely to want to sleep the morn away.”
The cook thought back to the day when Lark had returned to Stolweg, searching for Lady Anna. He’d left as quickly as he’d come when told that the Lady Anna had departed for Whitmarsh. Doreen had assumed he had followed her mistress there. But Lady Anna returned almost two months later and confided that Lark had never arrived.
The King would not allow Lady Anna to continue alone at Stolweg for much longer. Doreen sighed, at a loss for how to help.
Kneading her own dough, Doreen finished and turned to place it in a banneton from the stacked woven baskets they used for proofing. She lifted her gaze to set the basket in the hutch and discovered a man leaning against the doorframe. He raised his finger to his lips, begging silence. Doreen recognized him at once. She put down the dough she’d just started working and said, “I may just rest my feet after all, m’lady. If you truly do not mind…”
• • •
Anna nodded without lifting her head from the task at hand. She continued the process of pushing, pulling, and folding the dough. The repetitive motions were comforting. She needed something, anything, to punch and to pull. With each lump that she kneaded, the ache uncoiled little by little from around her heart.
• • •
Lark waited a long time, just watching her. Her movements were strong and fluid. She was exactly the same as before, he thought. No, that was not quite true. She had lost the dark circles under her once-haunted eyes. And, Lark thought appreciatively, she wasn’t as thin as before. With her sleeves rolled up past her elbows, he could see that she was still lithe. Her arms tensed and flexed as she repeated the same motion over and over.
His breath caught in his throat. She was even more beautiful than before. A lock of brown hair, where it had freed itself from her long braid, twisted and twirled down the side of her face as she leaned over the table’s surface. He could see traces of golden brown in its soft curl where the summer sun had kissed it. He fought back the urge to walk over and wrap the tress around his finger. She used the back of her wrist to push the escaped lock back in place, succeeding only in dusting her hair with flour.
• • •
As Anna finished working the dough, the mindless process was replaced immediately by thoughts of Lark. She was certain their paths would cross again. What would she say to him? She played the meeting over and over in her mind, perfecting it, imagining where they might meet. In some scenarios, she was already married to another. But just now, Anna was having her favorite daydream. Lark would find her at Stolweg, perhaps in the kitchen, like now, kneading dough. They would gaze at each other, neither speaking, only communicating their hearts’ desires with their eyes.
Gracious, she thought. If she were not more careful, she would overwork this boule and it wouldn’t rise. Turning to grab a banneton, she registered that she wasn’t alone. Anna didn’t move for fear her eyes were deceiving her. There, in the doorway, was Lark. He moved closer, and Anna realized he was not an illusion. She was overcome with an urge to run to his embrace.
And just as quickly, she was furious, with herself for being so foolish, and with Lark for assuming that she would be waiting for him. She grabbed another lump of dough and began kneading it. She had to force herself to slow her motions, concentrating on the shaping and reshaping, even as her mind screamed for her to beat the pulp out of it.
• • •
For a moment, Lark saw Anna’s eyes grow heavy with desire. And then she composed herself and calmly reached for another piece of bread dough. Lark had planned everything that he would say. He’d rehearsed his speech for days. When Anna’s light brown eyes met his, every rational thought escaped him. He stepped forward, keeping the expanse of the worktable between them, using it as a crutch. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” he finally asked.
“Easy? I. Don’t. Know. What. You. Mean,” Anna answered, punctuating each word with a punch to the dough.
Lark picked up Doreen’s discarded lump and tore little bits from it one at a time. He’d expected a straightforward answer, not one worthy of a lady at court. “You never played games with me before, why now?” he asked.
“Games?” she asked, not bothering to hide the anger in her voice. “Is that what you think I am doing? No, don’t answer. I really don’t care to know.”
“Anna, look at me,” he beseeched her. He hadn’t meant it to, but his last request came out sounding exactly as it had those many times he had said the same thing to her while making love.
• • •
Anna couldn’t take any more, and she released her pent-up fury on him. But this time she didn’t shout, instead lowering her voice to a calm hiss, a tone dripping with warning. “Who is playing a game now, Lark?”
“I just want to explain, to tell you why I had to leave. I—” Lark started.
“Had to leave?” she demanded. “I heard you volunteered.”
“I thought it was for the best,” he began, and Anna heard his irritation. She took a steadying breath. They could continue arguing, each becoming more and more angry. But it wasn’t what she wanted. And she didn’t think that Lark wanted it either. She was a different woman now. There had been a time once when he had let her rail against him, knowing it was what she needed. It wasn’t fair to use him like that anymore. She glared at the ruined dough in her hands and threw the useless mass on the work surface, throwing away her anger with it.
“You were the only person in the world I could talk to,” she said, her voice raw with pain. “The only person in the world who knew everything about me.”
“And I left you,” he stated simply. He walked around the worktable, his hand extended as if trying to bridge the gap between them. Anna wasn’t ready yet and took a step in the opposite direction to keep him safely away.
“Until I saw you just a few moments ago, I never realized how badly I was hurt by you,” she said. He tried to speak, but she raised her palm to stop him. “I know you were hurt, too, Lark. I thought one day you would understand,” she added wearily. “I am a person who feels responsible. My people were at risk. You were at risk. I would and will do anything to protect the lives of those I care for.”
He remained where he stood, and Anna sighed. “We knew each other for such a short time, you and I. You imagined yourself as my great protector, my strength. But I believed you would come to love all of me. I had hoped that you cared enough about me to put aside your pride and talk to me. But you left.”
She was finished. Anna wanted peace and was saddened that Lark might not be the one to give it. Two ruined pieces of dough sat on the thick wooden slab.
“No games,” he promised. “I’ve been chasing you across the realm, always weeks behind. When I returned here, you had gone to Whitmarsh. So I followed you there. But you had gone to court. And court was the last place I wanted to go to find you,” he admitted. “My life there, before I met you…”
He paused, and Anna knew that he was referring to the game
s he and Warin played with the Queen’s ladies. Anna hadn’t been deaf to the whispers and intrigues at King’s Glen.
“I went there, eventually,” Lark admitted. “But I missed you again, though I heard you made an impression on the Queen.”
“Your aunt, you mean,” Anna corrected. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I guess we both had our secrets,” he said wryly. “But she told me that you were giving this Harvest Festival for your people. I returned to Whitmarsh to find that Baldric and Noura were already on their way here. You see,” he said, “I’ve always been a step behind.”
When she remained silent, he forged ahead. “You were right, Anna, when you said that I was hurt too. But that’s not all. If I had known you were planning to sabotage the mordemurs, I would have stopped you. I almost killed you. So I shut you out to protect myself.” He stopped, not sure of what to say next. This was not going as he had planned.
“What do you want, Lark?”
“What do I want? Oh, Anna, I want you to know that I love you. I always did, though I never said the words, and I have never stopped. I want to know that you’re willing to try again, that you want the same, Anna. You don’t have to answer me right away,” he added when she didn’t respond. “I’ll leave you alone to think about it.” He turned and headed to the door.
Anna just could not believe that he was leaving again. She picked the largest gob of ruined dough, intent on chucking it at him. Her arm was already raised as he turned around, smiling that small, secret smile that had always devastated her heart.
“Poor choice of words, Anna. For the record, I’m not actually leaving you. I won’t ever leave you again, unless you order me to do so.”
She hurled the dough at him anyway, but he caught it deftly in one hand. Anna backed away as he came at her, only to bump solidly into counter behind.
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