Keturah studied him and then shook her head. “Jacob is an orphan. Killing his parents was one of my first blood jobs. I hadn’t known at the time that the couple had an infant. He was my responsibility.”
The Guardian studied her for a long moment, trying to decide what to make of the woman in front of him. It was no wonder, then, that she hated all things girlish and feminine. Whatever demon haunted her had tried very hard to destroy any sense of womanhood she had. It wasn’t that she considered herself a boy, precisely, he decided, but instead that she considered herself a tool, a weapon, something without a gender and without value and with the purpose only to bring pain and suffering.
“When you go…” he said softly, “you may have whatever you need from me. Weapons. Spells. Armor. Whatever you ask, I shall procure.” She opened her mouth, but he held open his hand. “In return, kill that bastard. It is an insult to the rest of we sorcerers that he lives.”
Keturah looked surprised at him. She had thought Alvaro innocent and untouched by anger or violence. But apparently, he knew enough of it to know her pain, to know her desire. He did not shame her for wanting to kill the man who had hurt her. Nor did he encourage more violence than needed to be rid of him. And so, she gave a slow, single nod, accepting his terms.
“And when I have killed him?” she asked, and he quirked his brow at her, an expression which only made his face that much more gruesome.
“I do not understand what you ask,” he said, watching her face him and move slowly towards him once more, the fire at her back, framing her form. She looked like wildfire in his eyes, rimmed with gold and red. A burning flame that moved closer to him.
“When I have killed him,” she began again, “may I… return here…?”
His eyes grew wide, and he scarce could find a breath to breathe, studying the small form in front of him. “Yes…” he whispered, watching her. A bit louder, he said, “You and your son are always welcome here.” His heart beat so loudly in his chest that he was almost certain she could hear it. She would stay? She wanted to stay? Here? In this cold, dark manor? With him? He was afraid to believe…No one wanted to stay.
She watched him and smiled faintly, studying his molten, brown eyes. “Then in a year…when I have left this place and killed the one who hunts me…I will return here.”
He studied her eyes, and asked, “Why do you wait a year? You know that I will not hold you here, and I can protect you from the winter storm.”
She shook her head. “A man’s word is his life. I promised the Lady Darkwaters that I would stay here for a full year. I will keep my word.” She leaned in towards him, and Alvaro was certain to die if she did not stop startling him the way she always seemed to do. He was half convinced that she knew how much her nearness and her words affected him and that she enjoyed getting a rise out of him. He was almost offended but honestly couldn’t care less so long as she stayed and was comfortable enough to get so close to him.
He wondered if she would kiss him again, and almost dared to hope that she would. But instead, she reached past him and grabbed her velvet robe where she had left it on the back of the chair and stood, pulling it on. “Thank you again for the magic, Alvaro,” she said, tying the belt of the robe. “Goodnight.” She leaned down and brushed his cheek in a kiss as she did every night.
He sighed as she walked away, feeling all of the tension and nervousness ebb out of him, and he rubbed his face, the bridge of his nose. “Goodnight, Keturah.” He looked up as she moved towards the door and added, “If you would like …I usually spend my hours before bed here…you are welcome to join me still, even though I no longer have magic to offer you each night.”
She paused at the door, one hand on the frame, and she looked back to catch him with those blue-green eyes. After a moment, she gave a little smile. “I think I will,” she said and turned from him, leaving the parlor and leaving him to melt into a puddle of sheer nerves and emotion in his chair, watching the fire she seemed to so adore. He felt those flames dancing along the insides of his veins and in his very heart.
Chapter Fifteen: March
Winter was fading, and spring was slowly beginning to split through the ice. It was finally warm enough—with some magic—to work in the gardens again. Alvaro had taken to helping her after lunch when she sent Jacob away to play on his own. It wasn’t good for him to be outside too long. It wasn’t really good for her either, but she would not heed Alvaro’s complaints, and the one time he had locked her out of the garden, she’d been so insulted and furious that she had refused to speak to him for almost a week, and so he relented and opened the gardens once more.
But on the matter of him joining her and assisting with her tasks, he would hear no objection. “It is my own home,” Alvaro had argued with her. “And I shall do as I please within it.” She had begrudgingly allowed him to stay without much more complaint after that, and by the end of the week had become comfortable and accepting of his presence alongside her.
They had managed to clear all of the beds before the worst of winter had hit. After pulling up the ones that hadn’t survived this past winter, they were left with mostly empty beds and no more preparation work to be done. Alvaro had used his magic to clean out the fountains, scrub them down, refill them, and get them working once more. The sound of the bubbling water throughout the gardens was peaceful now instead of the silence that lingered there before.
“Alright,” Keturah said and sat back on her legs, wiping her brow and leaving a little smear of dirt. Having finally convinced Alvaro’s magic that her happiness was best obtained through more functional clothing, it at last provided her with male clothing, and for the day, she was dressed in a long tunic and breeches, a scarf and cloak wrapped around her with the hood pulled up over her head to take the place of the straw hat. Even so, the clothes were made of wool and velvet, warm and well made, and they were embroidered with delicate designs not entirely fitting for a man’s garb. So long as they kept her warm and let her move around, Keturah didn’t care.
It was still chilly out, but she had worked hard pulling up the last of the dead flora. All that was left in the garden were those strange, thorny monsters she had chopped back into a manageable size.
“Now what?” Alvaro asked, his voice a rumble through the open air. Keturah looked to his masked face and then to the hand he offered to her once he stood. She accepted the hand up, coming up to her feet, but her legs buzzed with lack of blood flow, and she slouched a bit, gathering her footing.
All at once, however, Alvaro stopped and looked up, out of the gardens, while Keturah inspected a few plots down. “You should go inside, Keturah,” he said, looking to her, and she glanced up from her place. Alvaro usually was so absorbed into his tasks that he wouldn’t notice anything around him. It usually took Keturah shouting at him or physically moving him for him to notice her whenever he was really set on something. The fact that something she could not hear nor see nor feel drew him out of his reverie disturbed her greatly.
“What is it?” she asked, looking over at him.
He brushed himself off, looking down at his soiled clothes. “A visitor. Manok, no doubt.”
She frowned at him and then to the garden wall, although she could not see past it to the main road. “He still does not know that I am a woman.” She didn’t understand why he wanted her to leave, especially since Alvaro so rarely actually told her what to do. He was very good at suggesting things or offering others, but he rarely came so close as to actually giving Keturah an order.
“No,” he confirmed and collected his things carefully. He really did not want to argue with her and wished for just once that she would listen and do as he asked. There were many things he did not understand about her world, but there were also many more that she did not understand about his own. “And if word gets back to my father that I have a woman here, no power of mine or another will stop him from taking you.”
Keturah glared over at him with a look that dared anyone to tr
y and remove her. She could not imagine anyone forcing her to leave, especially not against Alvaro’s wishes. Either his father was a very powerful man or a very well respected one. He smiled a bit at that expression on her face. He could just imagine the small Keturah kicking and screaming against the mountain that was his father with every intention of winning against him. “Who is your father that he would do so?”
He sighed and looked to her wearily. Why could she never just do as he asked? He wished that for once, she would listen to him. He could try telling her that she did not stand a chance and that it was better to not fight with his father to begin with, but then she would only be insulted at the idea that someone could best her. Honestly, it was ridiculous. With night to shield her, she had become arrogant of her abilities. In an open fight, she was a very small creature indeed. “That is for another time, Keturah. Please, head inside.”
She grabbed her tools and put them to the side for later before pulling off her gardening gloves and facing him. “Then why are women forbidden here?” She moved over to where he was crouched over, gathering his things quickly.
He gave her an annoyed look as he worked. “You’re stalling. Ask me another time.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m in my slacks and tunic. I’ll be fine.”
He laughed, a horrible, monstrous sound, but one that she was at least accustomed to as laughter by now. He shook his head at her and faced her before he pulled back her hood, looking down at her with warmth. “Those slacks and tunic are not enough to hide you, not anymore.” She frowned at him, not understanding his meaning. He merely shook his head once more, trying to find the words to explain. “I don’t know how anyone mistook you for a boy earlier, but they won’t anymore. You’re a lot healthier than when you first came and…well…are much more… distinctly…female now…” He cleared his throat, heart fluttering in nervousness, but before she could speak, he broke in with, “Keturah.” He sighed, holding her shoulders. “If he knows what you are…he will take you from me. I don’t…” Again, he struggled with words. “Please, go.”
She sighed and frowned at him before nodding. He released her, and she turned from him, going into the manor. All along the way, she considered his words, what he meant by ‘distinctly female’. She wasn’t stupid or conceited; she knew that with the right clothes and attitude, and especially cosmetics, any woman could be beautiful. But she was still a small creature, short and small-breasted and not at all like any of the women she had seen at brothels who drew men to them like flies. Keturah highly doubted anyone would suspect her for a girl if she worked at playing a boy’s role.
She reached her room but did not stay there long. Hurriedly, she pulled off her boots and her cloak and scarf, yanking off her stockings until she was barefooted and in only the tunic and breeches. She checked her clothes for anything to make a sound, but there was nothing more than a faint rustle that even she could barely hear. She had returned to the manor, she told herself, but Alvaro said nothing about staying out of sight once she was there. Keturah almost felt guilty for being so underhanded towards him, but she had every intention of discovering what he desired to keep secret.
In the garden, Alvaro put his tools away, trying to appear as if not in a haste. His brother may not be as skilled and educated as himself, but the firstborn of the Darkwaters was no fool. He would notice any change in Alvaro’s behavior. So, he set his tools away and tightened his mask before going inside to greet his guest.
“Manok,” Alvaro greeted as he headed into the entry hall. Manok was waiting for him as he moved inside, fluid despite his large size. The older male stood in the receiving hall and looked up to Alvaro at the sound of his name. He gave a faint hint of a smile and a single nod.
Keturah could hear the sound of Alvaro’s voice even from her own hall. She walked quietly along the carpet and listened as the men clapped each other’s backs in greeting. At the end of the hall she found her place, crouching down and listening quietly, having brought a mirror with her and using it to occasionally glean their location. She was glad that the sun was facing in the other direction, for she did not need to fear of light reflecting as badly.
“Alvaro,” Manok returned, giving a severe nod, but his features less harsh. Alvaro had always enjoyed the times when Manok visited before and always encouraged him to stay longer. But now, he felt only apprehension and wanted the other man out of his home, away from posing any danger to Keturah. “You seem nervous, brother,” Manok said, giving him a curious look and frowning just a bit, but there was a knowing in his eyes that disturbed Alvaro all the more. Did he know? Had he guessed at what bothered Alvaro so? Surely not. If he knew then father would know, and it would be father and not Manok who stood before him.
The larger of the two, Alvaro, cleared his throat and shook his head. “Does it seem so? I must be tired. By all means, come and sit. Tell me what news you bring.”
Keturah listened and watched them from the top of the stairs, but the whole manor was encased in darkness as it always was. She crouched down and crept quietly, making her way towards the very back of the hall towards the eastern wing. She froze when she heard the men mount the stairs, but then she hurried much faster and into the safety of the eastern hall, going quickly.
Manok sighed as they climbed the stairs and said, “I will tell you, but we should probably speak in silent. I do not trust the thief to not be around.”
Alvaro gave a slight, nervous laugh. No, he did not trust the thief at all to not disobey him, and that was what worried him. He was well aware of Keturah’s curiosity and insistence that nothing be kept hidden from her despite how many secrets he knew she still kept. He thought—hoped—that she did not lie to him, but he had no illusions about her withholding information. Moreover, when she wanted something, she was damned near impossible to keep away from it, of that much he was quite sure.
“How is he doing, by the way? Your thief?” It was unlike Manok to pry, and it made Alvaro wary. Please, Keturah—he begged inwardly—Please stay out of sight.
Keturah crept into the eastern wing, knowing that the parlor was where Alvaro entertained his guests. The only other room was his bedroom and work room, both of which were overly large to accommodate a man of his stature and so took up the entire floor. But when she reached the parlor door, she found it shut and locked.
“Open,” she hissed at it, yanking at the door, but it refused her, as if knowing what mischief she was up to. Spying was best done if she was already in the room before people got in. Getting in unnoticed when people were already there was near impossible, particularly with men of the caliber she intended to spy upon.
“Well enough, I suppose,” she heard Alvaro say from down the hall, and her heart jumped.
Keturah looked at the golden knob and glared, hissing out, “If they come here and find me, Manok will take me away. You don’t want that now, do you?” There was a moment of silence and then a click. The door unlocked and cracked open. Keturah hurried inside and shut the door quietly behind her. Standing, she observed the room quickly, already well acquainted with the best hiding places (it was a force of habit whenever she entered a room—find every hiding place and every exit and anything that could be used as a weapon). The hearth was empty of any fire, and the room as a whole seemed entirely too large and cold from the other times she had visited with Alvaro.
“No trouble?” Manok pried further, and she could hear their voices coming closer.
Keturah swore and bolted for the bookshelves. There was a small space in the corner of the room, behind the plush chair and near the medicinal jars. It was a tight fit, but Keturah was a small woman. She hurried to it and quietly arranged herself into her little nook, making herself small as possible and drawing the table legs in front of her as they had been. Although her first instinct was to try and hide herself like a child building a fort, she knew that the less the room changed from the owner’s memory, the more likely she was to not be discovered
. Keturah knew from experience that it was better to hide in plain sight in a dark corner than by moving even a single pillow from a couch to help in hiding her.
Alvaro made a sound and pushed the door open. “He is temperamental and occasionally difficult, but I’ve not had any real problems.” He tried to find the balance between giving Manok too much information and giving him too little. The more he spoke of Keturah, the more likely he was to slip up and give away something or to make Manok nervous. Lying and hiding things were not Alvaro’s strong suit. He’d not had enough human interaction to have acquired the skills, and he was a terrible liar. The fire roared to life when they entered, and Keturah glanced over to discover that another, equally large and plush chair had made itself available for their guest. After that, she did not move except to breathe, knowing that even the slightest turn of her head could draw attention. “It is nice…to have someone else here, even if we do not interact much. The boy and his brother keep to themselves mostly.”
“Hm,” Manok said, sinking down in the chair offered to him and watching Alvaro sit as well.
Alvaro cleared his throat and said, “Surely the thief is not why you have come. What bothers you?”
Manok looked back to him and said, “Oh, but the thief is exactly why I am here.”
Alvaro sucked in a breath and went very still. Did he know? He must know. But how? There was no way he could have known who Keturah was. And that was not all that disturbed him. He nearly glanced to the nook in the corner, but he didn’t dare. How had she even fit herself into such a tiny space? But he couldn’t think on it now.
Manok sighed and looked to the fireplace. “This room…it smells like her.”
“Does it?” Alvaro asked nervously, following Manok’s gaze, his heart fluttering nervously. He tried not to notice Manok’s piercing gaze and how his eyes narrowed on him. He did not want to see the look of confirmation in his eyes. But Alvaro looked to him and saw Manok’s understanding, saw his own mistake, and at once he knew that he had been caught. Alvaro closed his eyes in dismay. Manok had intentionally upset him to get him to slip up. “Manok…”
Rose Borne Page 14
