The Hunt for the Three Roses

by Jason Hubbard

  “Oh, please, don’t be so dramatic.”

  Olivia chuckled and ran her fingertips down Callie’s dark locks. “You really should wear your hair down more often like this.”

  Callie nodded and turned her head, admiring the way her freshly washed hair cascaded down her back with a few wild locks spilling over her shoulders. For nearly all her life, she had preferred keeping a ponytail, but that was because it made her hair easy to manage as she skulked in shadows and ran across rooftops. Now that her thieving days were over, she may as well focus less on practicalities and go for a more stylish look every now and then.

  She stood and nervously ran her hands over her sleeves. She had been undecisive on whether to dress up or simply go to dinner with her usual jerkin and trousers, but Olivia had talked her into wearing a lovely blue kirtle that matched her eyes and a pair of leather sandals.

  “You have the jitters,” Olivia noted. “Must be your first date in a long time.”

  Callie shrugged. “If you can call it a date.”

  “You’re right. Seeing a man over dinner—must be a playdate.”

  “Go to hell,” Callie replied with a chuckle. “It’s so funny, though; I’ve known him for a long time, even traveled with him here all the way from a battlefield … but now I’m a little afraid to see him. I’m not even sure what to talk about.”

  “Because of ‘all you’ve been through together?’ If you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen. It’s the only way I’ll understand what you’re going through.”

  “Thanks,” Callie said, although she was certain she wouldn’t take up the offer. She didn’t quite have the nerve to confess that on the night she first met Sean, she had held him hostage, abducted him, and then tried to ransom him off. Not exactly the start of a healthy relationship.

  A knock on the front door made her heart jump. Olivia peered into the living room and cried, “Who is it?”

  “It’s Sean McAlister, ma’am. I’m here for Callie?”

  Olivia retreated back into the bedroom and grasped Callie’s shoulders. “Okay, now take your own advice and don’t be dramatic. Have fun.”

  Callie thanked her again and took a deep breath before entering the living room, where she found that Olivia’s two children had already opened the door. Olivia berated them for answering to a stranger and apologized to Sean. Sean smiled in amusement and said her children were very polite, leaving out how Olivia’s son had asked him if he was going to kiss Callie and take her away forever.

  “Callie, hi,” he said, taking in her dress with amazement. “I … I like your new look.”

  “Thanks,” she replied in a small voice. Sean himself wore a simple black tunic with dark brown trousers and boots, making her feel as though she had dressed up too much for the occasion. But if he wasn’t going to criticize her for her fashion choice, she wouldn’t do the same for his.

  “Shall we be off?”

  “Let’s.”

  “Please be back before midnight,” Olivia said. “You have more work tomorrow. There’s a clock in the mansion’s main hall, so no excuses.”

  “I won’t be that long,” Callie replied, chuckling to mask her annoyance. Olivia was her friend, but she sounded as if she was her mother.

  “You treat her right, Sean,” Olivia continued, oblivious to Callie’s mood. “If you don’t, I’ll know eventually.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sean said, and he and Callie began on their way through tall grass and weeds to the cobblestone road leading to the mansion.

  He didn’t offer his arm, she thought. Does that mean he doesn’t want to get too close? Or did he just forget? And what if he does offer it? Should I freak out? But why would I freak out? Did he—

  “She looks so much like her sister,” Sean said. “I was almost afraid it really was Avery. Have you seen Avery since you returned?”

  “Yes. She came and chewed my ear off, then said she was glad to see me. Didn’t sound like she meant it, though.”

  He sighed. “She’s probably not happy you’re staying with her sister. If they start fighting, you’ll be in the middle of it. We should talk to them before they get out of hand.”

  “Okay. And what about Jonas? Does he know about this? Did you keep him occupied?”

  “He’s working at the stables. He made a few friends there, and he’s taking riding lessons.”

  “Good for him.”

  “And yes, he knows about our dinner.”

  Callie frowned. “You think that was wise? He might get the wrong idea and, well … be jealous.”

  “No, no, he doesn’t mind. He said he’ll stay at the stables all night if he has to, but I told him to come inside after dark.”

  “That’s a relief.” Several times that afternoon, she had imagined Jonas catching them together and throwing a fit, but Sean had indeed done the smart thing and ensured that wouldn’t happen.

  “He probably does have a crush on you, but he won’t act on it,” Sean said. “He’s going to the Royal Palace, after all.”

  “Yeah …”

  The two walked in silence until they came across the road. They had the spot all to themselves, their long shadows like dark trains that mirrored their nervousness. The mansion stood atop a gentle slope, its shady façade appearing as both a warm shelter and a murky future where nothing was for certain for two wayward Consarians.

  “Um, Callie … I’ve gotten used to walking with you like this, but when a gentleman escorts a lady to dinner, it’s customary for them to link arms. Shall we?”

  He offered his arm, and Callie hesitated to accept it. She made to say that she didn’t want to give the wrong impression to others, but then mentally told herself not to be a fool. If she could lay her head on his shoulder during a wave of compassion, then she could take his arm when going to dinner.

  So she did, and she glanced over to see that their shadows had joined as one. Even their heads were nearly one neat shape in the dying sunlight. She also noticed that Sean’s arm had a better physique that wasn’t there when she first met him. Whether he would admit it or not, his time in the army had done him some good.

  With their conjoined body heat fighting off the early-autumn chill, the couple continued on their way to the mansion—not quite lovers but perhaps more than friends.

  As Sean had just learned, he could not use the banquet hall unless the count or a steward was using it. Rather than eat in the servants’ dining room, Nolan, the head chef, had suggested they eat in Sean’s quarters. Having an intimate dinner in one’s sleeping space was unthinkable to those of the peerage, but in Lonsaran it was a common practice for their subordinates.

  Nolan himself and a butler ushered Sean and Callie into the tidy bedroom. In the center was a supper table set up for two with four domed platters. With Sean and his guest seated, the servants lifted the silver domes to reveal two steaming slices of prime rib, along with mashed potatoes, green beans, a loaf of bread, and a small vanilla cake.

  “Thank you, Nolan, it smells delicious,” Sean said. This snapped Callie out of her reverie and she gave thanks as well, and she mentally noted how Sean always seemed more mature than her. While she had been staring at the main course with a watering mouth, Sean had the presence of mind to say something.

  The butler and Nolan—who seemed pleased to do his part to bring two young people together—prepped the dinner plates, filled two glasses with cabernet wine from a half-empty bottle, and then wished them a pleasant evening before exiting. In the steady light from two lanterns and four candles, Callie sampled her prime rib, which was just how she liked it: lightly browned with the juices running clear from the pink center. And to think I almost said no to this!

  Trying to keep his coughing to a minimum, Sean said, “I’d like to know more about your reason for coming back. I heard from a guard that you overheard Darrel Noors talk about poisoning
me and Dio.”

  “Not quite right. I overheard him telling some friends he was mad about losing so early in the trials, and he swore revenge on the final victor.”

  “So, nothing about poisoning?”

  “No. He contemplated strangulation and stabbing; he didn’t mention poison, and he didn’t mention you, either. I honestly didn’t know you would be a target; I was only afraid you might get in Darrel’s way.”

  “That’s incredible. If it was me there, I would have assumed he wasn’t serious, only putting on airs. But you believed him.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t know what to think at first, but there was something about the way he talked that made me think he believed himself, that he could pull off what he was saying he’d do.”

  “Hmm … have you tried the wine yet?”

  She took a sip after another bite of steak, which perfectly complemented the tender meat. She eyed the bottle the servants had left, and secretly vowed to see it empty.

  “I mean you no offense, but that is a little hard to believe,” Sean said. “I can’t imagine someone openly discussing murder in a public place and then actually doing it. It goes against common sense.”

  “It does, but I’ve seen it happen in my clan days. There was a man who threatened to kill another, and everyone thought he didn’t mean it, he was only blowing off steam. But he actually did it a few days later. He didn’t get caught doing it, but everyone knew it was him, and he confessed to it when one of our leaders asked him about it. I also recall another man who vowed revenge on someone from another clan. He kept talking about it, and our leaders forbade him from doing anything, but one day he disappeared and we never saw him alive again.”

  “He never came back?”

  Callie was about to sample her green beans, but she lowered her fork upon remembering the incident in question. The man had come back, in a sense: The rival clan had sent his head in a wicker basket. Recalling its horrifying appearance and hideous smell killed her appetite for the moment.

  “So it’s not as unprecedented as I thought,” Sean said. “This man, Darrel Noors, sure had guts but wasn’t smart enough to stay secretive.”

  “Right, wasn’t smart enough, and … hmm, what was it?”

  “What’s what?”

  She shut her eyes and tried to think back to that day in The Rocking Turtle. “It’s Proverbs 16:18: ‘Pride goes before destruction,’ and something else I can’t remember.”

  Sean smiled and said, “‘Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.’ Most impressive, I didn’t think you’d quote the Holy Book like that.”

  “Oh, I pick up platitudes here and there.”

  “Well, it fits Darrel Noors to a T. He was so proud, he thought he could openly boast of his plan and nothing would come of it. His friend William thought the same. Good thing they didn’t count on you to do anything.”

  “Good thing I just happened to be there. I could have rested at the inn, but I wanted to have a drink before striking out.”

  “I wonder where they got the burkleweed. It’s good for nothing but poison, and the antidote’s hard to make. Who could be carrying something like that in St. Clive?”

  Callie shook her head, and the two of them ate in silence for a minute.

  “You didn’t have to take the oath,” Sean said. “Why did you?”

  “I … I thought it was time for a change.”

  “Yes, but this is quite a change for you. You didn’t like me pledging my life to a lord, but then you went and did it yourself.”

  Callie shrugged with an embarrassed smile. “I guess I got cold feet. I’ve been to Asturia only once before—did I ever tell you that? I went with my father, and we did a job there. I remember thinking I liked St. Mannington better, so I couldn’t wait to get back home.”

  “I see … but if you tried staying in Asturia, it might have grown on you. But now you’ll spend much of your time here.”

  “Yes, well, it’s too late for me to take it back now.” She drank deeply of her wine.

  Sean held up a hand as if in surrender. “It’s just uncharacteristic of you, that’s all. Speaking of your father, is there any way to contact him?”

  “I can leave a message with a contact in the underworld—without anyone here knowing, of course.”

  “Would you want him to visit you now?”

  “Yes, I want him to know I’m safe. God, I miss him, but he’ll probably be mad at me for taking a knee to Count Guyver.”

  “You should try it: Leave a message and see if he comes. If he’s upset with you, well, at least you’ll know where he stands.”

  They ate in silence awhile, both indulging in the wine enough for second helpings.

  “Being a retainer in Lonsaran is different than in Consaria,” Sean said. “In Consaria, retainers are paid very little and must find their own shelter. They must earn their keep in other ways, but once their lord needs them, they must drop everything to serve. But here, retainership is an honorable position. As long as you work, you’ll want for nothing; if you fall ill, someone can take your place.”

  “Yes, but do I really have to milk cows?”

  Sean raised an eyebrow, sensing he was on thin ice. “Not necessarily. You can ask for another duty.”

  “I did,” she muttered. “My boss, Guard Lieutenant Olson, put me on cow duty, and when I asked if I could join a hunting team instead, he said he couldn’t arrange that.”

  “He couldn’t today, but over time, if you build up enough goodwill, I’m sure you can get reassigned to something you prefer.”

  “I think Olson wants to keep me on cow duty, as if there aren’t enough people there already.”

  “Is that what you did all day, milking?”

  “And fed them and put them out to pasture …”

  “Hard work, I take it?”

  “Well, it’s not really hard, and the people I worked with are very nice. It’s just that …”

  “It’s not what you were expecting to do when you took your oath.”

  “Yes! I thought I’d be a guard on patrol or a fight instructor. I didn’t sign up to be a farmer.” She instantly regretted saying it because she didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the hand she was given in life. After all, there were worse things to be than a farmhand. But she said no more, for she wanted to see how Sean would respond.

  After taking a few bites, he said, “It’s a thankless job, but that’s not the point of it. Do you intend to go out and thank the butcher who cut this prime rib? Or whoever mashed these potatoes, or churned this butter, or smashed the grapes for this wine? I don’t think you will, but everyone who played a part in making this meal were happy to do it. We all help each other out because that’s what communities do. Yes, there’s money and trade involved, but they’re only there to ensure services are provided, and that’s how we survive. The milk you made today is being drunk by people out there, many of them children. You can take pride in that, knowing that you provided part of someone else’s dinner—which you’ll still do if you’re on the count’s hunting team someday.”

  Callie mused on this, thinking again of how mature Sean was. All the while she had been squeezing the teats of those animals, she dwelled on how the job was beneath her, yet Sean could reveal how selfish she was after only a moment’s thought. It was enough to make her feel ashamed as she dived back into her delicious meal.

  “After work, I did some sword-training with Olivia,” she said. “I probably couldn’t do that in Consaria.”

  “No, you couldn’t. There are no female retainers in Consaria, because female servants are forbidden to take up arms.”

  Callie absently nodded, not taking her eyes off her plate. The subject of fighting had reminded her of something that made her uncomfortable.

  Should I tell him Sir Barnes asked me to go train with him tomorrow
? No, that’s something he doesn’t need to know.

  Tipsy from the wine, they greedily devoured the vanilla cake and reminisced about their recent life on the road. Sean related how he cared for Jonas despite how much of a pain he could be, and Callie exaggerated details of her epic duel with the dastardly Brian, joking about how his crooked tooth nearly took her head clean off.

  Around half past nine, Sean decided to call it a night and carefully escorted a woozy Callie down the main stairs and along the road to Olivia’s cottage. “I have it on good authority that you’ll accompany the count’s entourage when he goes to Asturia,” he said.

  “Figures I’ll be going to Asturia anyway,” Callie said, chuckling.

  “I’d like to ask you: Would you care to join me and Jonas when we go to the palace?”

  “Oh, I don’t think I should. I barely know how to act around the count; I’d make a fool of myself in front of hundreds of nobles.”

  “I can teach you all you need to know about etiquette. You’ll need to learn it anyway since you’re a retainer. If anything, you’ll get to see the palace up close; most people live their whole lives without doing that.”

  Callie said she still wasn’t sure she should go, and Sean replied she still had plenty of time to decide. Once they reached Olivia’s front door, they faced each other and smiled shyly.

  “Thank you for a … a lovely evening,” Callie said. “Is that how you high-society types would put it?”

  “That’s how anyone would put it; you’re just too drunk to realize that.”

  “I’m not too drunk for nothing! I can take you on in a duel right now if I wanted to.”

  “Well, it was a lovely evening. Congratulations to you for becoming a retainer to Count Guyver.”

  “Thank you,” Callie said, and the two fell into an awkward silence. Callie rubbed her fingers together while looking expectantly at a pensive Sean. She was little fearful at what he would say yet tried to stay positive, willing to give him a chance if …

  He looked up at the perfect half-moon as if seeking inspiration. Callie thought the duality of the moon was a perfect symbol for tonight’s atmosphere, like their shadows joining together in the sunlight.