Audette of Brookraven (The Eldentimber Series Book 4)

by Shari L. Tapscott

  My muscles weaken, but I shake my head. “Don’t tease about something like that.”

  His hand strays to my cheek, and he brushes back a loose strand of hair. I freeze under his touch, uncomfortable by how strongly his nearness affects me. It’s simply an attraction, not based on true feelings, but it’s undeniably potent.

  “I meant what I said, Audette. I’m going to prove myself, whether you let me kneel before you now or not.”

  “That’s all good and fine, but I have a wizard to track down. If you’re not with us, I don’t have time for you right now.”

  His thumb brushes my jaw, and his eyes soften. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to help you. I said I wasn’t joining the Order.”

  “Explain.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. If this is where you’ll be, this is where I’ll be as well.”

  “And you’ll help?”

  He nods, and his hand drifts from my face. His fingers brush over the back of my neck, and the skin, bare with my hair up, tingles at his touch.

  “You’re selling yourself out as a knight for hire?” I say, attempting to keep the moment light. “Isn’t that below your station?”

  Irving leans forward, smelling of countryside and soap. “Not when you’re my prize.” As he says the words, his breath brushes against my lips.

  “I’m no man’s prize,” I murmur, but, despite the words, I give in.

  Rising to my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck. Expecting Irving will need no further invitation, I close my eyes, my body humming with anticipation. He presses a quick kiss to the tip of my nose.

  And nothing more.

  My eyes fly open, and I find his face alight with mischief.

  “I’m glad we had this talk,” he says, pulling away. “Now I have things to attend to back at the castle.”

  “I take it back.” I gape at him, and heat rises to my cheeks. “You’re not very good at this at all.”

  In one smooth move, his arm circles my back, and he yanks me roughly against him. My hands fly to his shoulders, and I suck in a surprised breath.

  “You’re forgetting the most important rule in this game,” he says, his voice purposely rough and low with the intent to drive me mad.

  Trying not to stare at his lips, I ask, “And what’s that?”

  Just as abruptly as he pulled me to him, he steps away, grinning. “Always leave them wanting more.”

  With an exaggerated bow and another wink, he strides off, leaving me breathless, flustered, and more than a little irritated.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I’m going to speak with Grace today,” I say over a proper breakfast of tea and scones.

  Barowalt looks up from his meal. “Javid’s wife?”

  “Edlund has looked into the dragon attacks, and I was hoping to glean more information from her since I believe it’s related. She said he sent a band of knights to look into the reports.”

  Keven looks up. “I’ll go with you, speak with the knights, see if there’s anything that seemed too trivial to mention.”

  Barowalt chooses another sausage from the platter. “I’m not worried about Grace as much, but be subtle when speaking with the king’s men. Rumors spread quickly through the knights’ hall.”

  “I’ll go with him,” Rogert says. “I’d like to make use of a proper practice yard.”

  The men of the Order have been restless since we returned. All are eager for something to fight, but Rogert is especially so. He spent yesterday prowling the courtyard, sparring with whoever was available, readying himself for a battle.

  The first step will take patience. We still don’t know what we’re up against.

  When we first returned from Asher’s estate, I spent hours in the library, scouring the shelves for information on both wizards and magical creatures. I found nothing. Most of our family’s books are on literature and art. And since I wasn’t looking for a guide on the craft of topiary dragon sculpting, I had no luck.

  “That’s fine,” I say, “but I’ll likely be most of the afternoon. Grace said the castle’s library is fairly large, and I’d like to do some research while I’m there.”

  “What about you Hallgrave? Rafe?” Barowalt asks.

  “I’d rather stay here,” Rafe says, a somewhat embarrassed smile on his face.

  Pleasantly stuffed, I push my plate aside. “Who are you avoiding?”

  The handsome knight grins, looking particularly guilty. “One of the queen’s ladies’ maids.”

  I roll my eyes, but I can’t quite hide my smile. “You’re all incorrigible.” Then I glance at Hallgrave and Keven. “Except you two, of course.”

  “Stuffy and Boring” —Rogert nods to Keven and then Hallgrave in turn— “Wouldn’t know how to have a good time if it fell from the sky and struck them on the heads.”

  “I’ve had my share of good times,” Hallgrave says, his voice cryptic. “I simply know how to hold my tongue about it.”

  This starts a round of banter between the knights and Barowalt, and I only shake my head, pretending to ignore them. They can brag in front of me, but if I were to tell them of the few stolen kisses I’ve had, there would be blood on my hands.

  Barowalt’s in the middle of a funny story about a noble’s daughter from Lenrook when Milly walks into the room. He trails off, clears his throat, and turns his full attention to his plate.

  She narrows her eyes at him, obviously having heard part of his tale on her way through the hall. The knights and I exchange looks, and I bite my cheeks so I won’t laugh at how awkward the moment is between them.

  “Will you come with us to the castle?” I ask her, hoping to ease the tension. “I’m going to visit their library. I was hoping Grace might show us around.”

  “That sounds thrilling,” Milly says, but it’s obvious that she thinks it will be anything but.

  “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Do whatever you like.” I motion out the window. “It’s a lovely day. You could paint.”

  Milly scrunches her mouth to the side, thinking. Finally, she says, “I’ll go with you, maybe sketch in the castle gardens for a bit.” She glances briefly at Barowalt and then smirks at Rogert. “Or maybe I’ll sketch the knights in the practice yard.”

  Rogert, knowing she’s only trying to get under Barowalt’s skin, grins, leering at Milly in the nicest of ways.

  Barowalt watches the exchange, unimpressed. “Actually, Milly, I was hoping you might accompany me today. I’m riding to the valley to see if I can find any clues to the attack in the light of day.”

  Milly, all four knights, and I turn our attention to Barowalt, surprised. He shifts, looking uncomfortable.

  “Well?” Barowalt says, his voice gruff.

  “Yes.” Milly’s answer is too quick, and now she shrugs. “I suppose. If you want me to.”

  She’s trying to hold back a smile, hoping she doesn’t look too eager, but it shines in her eyes.

  “Very well.” Barowalt stands. “I’ll saddle our horses. Meet me in the stable when you’re finished with your breakfast.”

  The moment he leaves the hall, she grins, looking triumphant.

  Rogert rolls his eyes. “And I thought you were finally falling for me.”

  She pats the knight’s arm, sympathetic. “I hope you won’t take it too hard.”

  I laugh as she stuffs a scone in her mouth and rushes upstairs to her chambers to prepare herself.

  “I’m ready whenever you’re finished,” I tell Keven and Rogert.

  They finish their breakfast, and we’re at the castle within an hour.

  “Audette,” Grace says when she greets me. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  The duchess carries a sketchpad under her arm, and there’s a smudge of charcoal on her cheek.

  “Do you sketch?” I ask, nodding to the book.

  “I keep a nature journal.” She taps the leather cover. “My sketches aren’t as polished as Javid’s, but I enjoy it nonetheless.” Grace leads me throu
gh the halls. “Would you like tea? Are you hungry?”

  “I’ve just eaten. Actually, I was hoping you’d take me on a tour of the library. Perhaps help me with a little historical research?”

  Looking giddy at the prospect, Grace hurries down the hall. “I would love to. Besides Javid, I’ve found very few people here who are interested in history or the sciences.”

  I laugh in agreement. “My family’s library ended up being filled with literature and books on art.”

  “Nothing wrong with that, of course,” Grace says as she leads me up a grand flight of stairs. “But I believe it’s better to have a more rounded education.”

  She may be slightly more passionate on the subject than I am, but with that enthusiasm, I’m sure we’ll find what I’m looking for if it’s there to be found. We reach the library, and I step through the doors, feeling hopeful. Though not large by some standards, the room is twice the size of our villa’s.

  Grace sets her sketchbook and charcoals on a nearby table that’s overflowing with books and papers. She glances at me, embarrassed. “I’ve been meaning to clean it off. I’m afraid I’ve become lax when it comes to the organization of study materials since I married Javid.”

  She stacks the loose papers, nudges a few books into a group, and then turns, obviously not overly concerned about the mess.

  “Are you looking for something in particular?” She leads me to a wall shelf so tall, a sliding ladder has been built into it so a person can reach the top. She climbs the ladder and pushes herself down the row. “Are you still researching dragons?”

  I can’t help but shake my head at the juxtaposition that is Grace. She’s as poised and proper as her name would imply, but she moves through the shelves and books with the knowledge of a fussy old master librarian. She’s pretty, in a quiet way, rather than shockingly beautiful like Giselle is, but she smiles with her whole face, and that makes her even lovelier.

  “Perhaps.” I chew my lip, wondering how much to share. “But maybe something more along the lines of wizards conjuring something about the size of a dragon…something like a shadow.”

  “That’s rather specific.” Grace, still perched on the ladder, looks over her shoulder. “If you’re worried about the dragon sightings down south, I don’t think you need to be concerned.”

  “No, it’s not just that. There’s something else.”

  Grace studies me for a moment and glances about the library as if reassuring herself we’re alone. With bright, curious, eyes, she stage-whispers, “This is going to sound ridiculous, but does this have something to do with the Order of Lingard?”

  I’m dumbfounded—positively knock-me-over-with-a-feather, gobsmacked. My mouth opens, but no words come out. I don’t even know what I was planning to say.

  Once I recover, I ask, “How do you know about the Order?”

  She climbs down the ladder, tosses her long almost-blond braid over her shoulder, and smiles like a child who just discovered she gets the last slice of cake. “When I was younger—trapped in the largest library in Elden but eager to see more of the world, I studied the other kingdoms. I read anything and everything I could get my hands on. Books, scrolls, maps…anything.”

  “But there shouldn’t be…” I set my hands on my hips, my finger tapping in a sporadic rhythm against my gown. “Where did you hear of the Order? And what do you know?”

  “I don’t remember, to tell you the truth.” She gives me an apologetic smile. “And I don’t know much, only that the Order was founded to protect magical beings. Honestly, I didn’t believe its existence until your unusually handsome, valiant knights came striding into the castle when you arrived. It triggered the memory, and I couldn’t help but wonder…and then you start asking about dragons…”

  She grins, almost beside herself with glee that one of her childhood fairy tales has come true.

  I could tell her the whole thing is a myth, but I don’t want to, and I have a feeling Grace could be very helpful in figuring out what it is we’re dealing with.

  Just like she did moments ago, I glance about the room. Then, quietly, I say, “Unicorns. Not all magical beings—just them.”

  “Unicorns?” Grace’s smile is tempered with a wary expression as if she’s not quite sure if I’m teasing her or not.

  You can’t deny the existence of dragons—they burned down half of Elden in the Dragon Wars not ten years ago. Fairies, though rarely seen, are numerous, as are griffins and gimlies. Mermaids, pixies, kelpies, phoenixes…all are creatures people know well, even if they’ve never seen one in person.

  But unicorns?

  They don’t actually exist outside tapestries, or, if they did, they died off hundreds of years ago. Everyone knows that.

  Everyone except for the small order of knights from Brookraven—and apparently whoever wrote the book Grace stumbled onto when she was a child.

  I nod. “Unicorns.”

  She looks like she wants to believe me, but she just can’t. “Have you seen one?”

  “They’re beautiful beyond description—the first time you lay eyes on them, you almost forget to breathe. They’re sleek and gentle and majestic…but they have the mental capacity of a baby bird.”

  Grace blinks at that and then laughs.

  “There’s never been a magical creature so ill-equipped to defend itself,” I continue. “Like rabbits, they’re extremely good at hiding, but that’s about the extent of it.”

  “But if they’re magical…” Grace narrows her eyes, thinking. I’m still not sure if she believes me, but she seems happy to ponder the idea of it, even if it’s only hypothetical. “Can’t they use the magic for protection?”

  I shake my head. “It can be used to fortify others, but they can’t seem to use it to protect themselves.”

  Her eyes sharpen. “What do you mean ‘fortify?’”

  “There’s a reason our knights are as large and strong as they are—they grew up around unicorn magic.”

  “So it’s true,” she whispers.

  “It’s true.” My smile drops away as I glance at wall after wall of books. I’ll never find anything on my own. “And I think you can help us.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  With half a dozen heavy, dusty volumes in my arms, I step into the castle’s courtyard. Deep in conversation, Grace and I discuss what we’ve learned in our studies so far…which, sadly, isn’t much. Grace suggested we look up information on unicorns first—find natural predators, facts on how dark wizards use unicorn magic, and so on—and go from there. Most of what we found seems like it’s based more on fancy and myths, but it’s worth going through.

  The sky is dusky. I stayed far longer than I meant to. Milly is likely at the villa, impatiently waiting for me to return so she can tell me about her day with Barowalt—as long as my brother didn’t do something foolish and mess it all up. But even then, Milly will be waiting to give me an earful.

  As Grace talks, I glance around the courtyard. I’m looking for Irving, though I wouldn’t admit it to a soul. He’s here, somewhere. After our almost-kiss, I didn’t feel the need to invite him to take a room in the villa, an idea I had been toying with on the way back from Asher’s estate. Let him stay here in Aunt Camilla’s hall.

  Still, I wouldn’t mind seeing him. Even if it’s just to snub him—especially to snub him. It would serve him right.

  “I’ll see if I can find anything at all that seems like it might be similar to the reports in the so-called dragon attacks,” Grace says.

  I shake my head. “The more I think about it, the more I wonder if it is completely unrelated. The two attacks were a month ago. You’re probably right—it was likely thieves robbing from farmers with wild imaginations.”

  “Not two.” Grace stops. “There was a third. We learned of it yesterday. I assumed you’d heard.”

  “When was the attack?”

  “The day before you arrived, in Bracken.”

  Shifting the books in my arms, I say, “Was it the sam
e? Dark shadow? Loss of livestock?”

  She nods.

  “It doesn’t make sense, though. If the blessing was attacked by a wizard, and I’m almost positive that it was, why would he waste his time terrorizing villages?” I muse out loud. “Why bother?”

  Grace shakes her head, and then she pauses. “Let’s go there tomorrow.”

  “Go there?”

  “Yes, let’s go to Bracken, see what we can find out. We’ll stay the night in Constelita—it’s not far from there, and it has the largest library in Ptarma.” She grows animated. “Javid was just saying he wanted to go down for a few days, and there’s a master scholar there who I would love to speak with about the attacks. Bring your brother and some of your knights along. No one will think it’s anything more than a holiday.”

  Since we have no other leads, I nod. “All right. I’ll talk to Barowalt and see what he thinks.”

  To the right of the courtyard, where the practice yard is located, a loud cheer rings through the warm evening.

  I motion toward the ruckus. “I need to collect my men.”

  The practice yard is lit with a combination of torches and burning urns, and the area is bright despite the darkening sky. At least thirty knights have gathered around the center, watching a match.

  When Grace sees who’s fighting, she makes a scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

  Giselle faces off against Rogert, a sword in her hand. She wears armor, but not only is it the most worthless design I’ve ever seen, but the most scandalous. The ornate steel breastplate barely covers her chest but it manages to push it to normally unattainable heights. Her midriff is bare. A length of chain mail hangs from her hips, and it falls just low enough it covers the most critical areas. Her legs are fully visible except for the swath of gauzy, translucent skirt that falls to her ankles.

  I cross my arms and watch the shameful display with disgust. “I know when I fight, I like to display the areas of my anatomy that are most vulnerable.”

  Grace snorts, a most unladylike sound. “Apparently she had the armor custom-made in Waldren—I know because she’s told us. On several occasions. According to her, it’s all the rage right now.”