Summers at Castle Auburn

by Sharon Shinn

  “Jaxon Halsing!” it exclaimed, and a few seconds later, Jaxon realized that it was a human and one that he recognized—a hunter named Jed Cortay. “I cannot believe my eyes!”

  Neither could Jaxon, for this was a man he had known well. Jed Cortay had been a coarse, burly, damn-your-eyes woodsman who would take any pelt, whether or not it had value. The man who stood before him now had the same height and the same body, though considerably slimmed down, and a face with roughly the same features—yet he appeared transformed somehow. Almost how Jaxon imagined a man might look transmogrified by death and elevation to the realm of angels.

  “Cortay,” Jaxon named him, and they grasped hands with tremendous vigor. At one time, they had been great friends. “What are you—is it possible? All this time I thought you were dead.”

  Cortay laughed loudly, and the ubiquitous hum around them jumped with a surge of hilarity. “No! Living here—a changed man—a blessed man. Halsing, you don’t know what you’ve stumbled onto.”

  Jaxon looked around again. “It’s Alora,” he said. “Or at least it matches my dreams of it.”

  Cortay took him by the arm. “Your dreams could never have been this miraculous,” he assured Jaxon. “Let me show you. You will not believe it. It is too beautiful for words.”

  Indeed, at this point in Angela’s recital of Jaxon’s tale, the descriptions became sketchy and filled with superlatives. It was as if human speech could not re-create the marvels of Alora; there were no adjectives gorgeous enough to encompass the architecture, the music, the texture, the scent of that place. Jaxon and Cortay spent hours (perhaps minutes) wandering through that amazing city, until they at last came to the most splendid house of all. I could not visualize it from Angela’s telling—“It had five stairways and no walls, except walls of ivory lace, and trees grew in the front rooms, and golden light spilled over everything”—but it was not hard to guess who lived here. The queen of the aliora, the woman who called herself Rowena.

  He had seen her since that summer evening by the river when I had overheard their conversation, for his opening words to her were, “You look wearier than you did last fall.” And she replied, “I have but recently come from searching the land of humans for something I lost. I find that whenever I cross out of the boundaries of Alora, I grow tired and feel my age, but when I am home again, I am renewed and fulfilled. In a day or so, you will not be able to make such an accusation.”

  “It was not an accusation,” he said. “Merely, I noticed.”

  “And what I notice about you, Jaxon Halsing,” she said, “is that you are standing in my home, where you have often been invited, and where I never thought to actually see you.”

  “I have decided to take you up on your offer of hospitality,” he said, “and see just how generous the aliora can be.”

  She glanced at him out of her dark, slanted eyes as if assessing him—his motives or his nerve. “And are you not afraid?” she asked. “To be here—among my people and their sorcery—afraid of being held prisoner or seduced by beauty?”

  “I fear nothing,” he said brazenly. “You claim that no one is kept here under duress—I wish to prove it by my own experience. You say that no one who arrives ever wishes to leave—but I tell you now I will not stay. I have come to see you in your home and walk out again.”

  She extended one hand to him, so long and delicate and small that he was almost afraid to take it for fear of bruising the flawless skin. “Stay as long as you like and leave when you wish,” she said. “All that I ask is that you enjoy yourself while you are here. For this is Alora, a place of wonders, and all who abide here are filled with joy.”

  He spent the next ten days in Alora. He lived in Rowena’s lacework house, and at her table he ate food that was even more impossible to describe than the city itself. He spent his days drinking some strange potent brew and reminiscing with old friends. For in Alora were five men he had once known very well—hunters who had vanished some years ago and been presumed dead or enslaved. But no, here they were, happy, healthy, delighted to have him among them, constantly praising the gentleness of the aliora and the sweetness of their life among their former prey. He spent his evenings flirting with the queen of the aliora, though Angela’s story did not include many of the details of that pastime.

  And one day, well-fed, content, welcomed and unwatched, he snatched up Rowena’s niece and dove back out through the magical boundary, into the forest he knew. He ran for hours, the weeping child in his arms, and he did not stop running until he made it clear of the forest.

  And then he came to Castle Auburn to show off his prize.

  JAXON STAYED AT the castle for the next three days, urged by the regent to attend the summer ball. The only time I saw him in semiprivacy was one afternoon when he came up to visit Elisandra and me in my sister’s sitting room.

  “How are my favorite girls?” he demanded, giving each of us a fierce hug that carried us off our feet. “Corie! You look so much like your sister! Matthew says all the young men are circling around you like hawks on the hunt. I’ll be hearing an interesting announcement any day now, I suppose. And Elisandra—such a beauty. Your father would be so proud of you.”

  I could not speak to him, the man I had always adored. But Elisandra took his arm with every evidence of affection, led him to her favorite sofa, and sat beside him. “I’ve missed you,” she said. “Tell me about your travels.”

  He obliged, describing a recent visit to Faelyn Market as well as a journey farther afield, to Chillain. He made no mention of the successful hunting venture—but then, I reflected, he seldom did. Those tales apparently were only for the ears of men, seasoned hunters and hardened warriors not affronted by tales of violence and betrayal. I wondered again how Angela had gotten the story. Jaxon reserved his more charming exploits for recitation to the ladies.

  “And in Faelyn Market,” he was saying, “I purchased gifts for both of you.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and came out with slim packets wrapped in tissue and marked with our initials. I had to come forward from the chair where I had taken up residence—across the room, as far from him as I could get—to gingerly take my gift. “I think you’ll be pleased,” he said. “Only girls as beautiful as you two could wear such things.”

  Elisandra opened hers and gave a soft cry of delight. My fingers were clumsier but I managed to rip back the paper. Inside lay a delicate gold chain strung with rubies. Elisandra’s necklet was hung with emeralds and onyx.

  “Let me see you wear them,” he asked next, and perforce I fastened the chain around my neck as Elisandra donned hers as well. It was the perfect length, the largest central jewel coming to rest in the hollow of my throat. We both went to the full-length mirror in its dark oval stand to admire our newfound treasures.

  “Uncle Jaxon, this is so lovely,” Elisandra said, crossing the room to his side. He had pulled himself to his feet and was smiling down at us with great satisfaction. “Thank you so very much for thinking of me.” And she hugged him, then stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.

  I followed her more slowly and did not speak with quite as much enthusiasm. “Yes—very beautiful. I can wear the necklace with my new ballgown.”

  Jaxon laughed and swept me into an embrace that took no account of my reluctance. When he released me, he caught me by the shoulders and peered shrewdly down at me. “You’re not my usual sunny Corie, but I know what ails you,” he said. “Don’t worry—there are plenty of beaux out there if this one doesn’t suit you. No need to fear that you won’t be wed.”

  At this, I could not help staring at him, possibly the first time I had met his gaze since he arrived at the castle. My expression amused him, for his laugh rolled out again and he gave me a final hug.

  “I’ll see you both at the ball,” he promised. “Save a dance for me.”

  And he was finally gone.

  I turned my stare on Elisandra. “He thinks I’m mooning over some beau?” I choked out. “What could he—why
would—I don’t know what to say to him, I don’t know what to think—”

  Elisandra had moved to the door behind Jaxon, and now she stood across the room, watching me from a distance. She knew something of what I was feeling, for I had wept in her arms the night after the young aliora was brought to the castle. But I had not told her Angela’s story—I was not capable of repeating it.

  “He asked me yesterday why you seemed so preoccupied,” she said. “This is a man you have loved your whole life. You cannot expect him not to notice when you suddenly do not speak to him.”

  “And you said—?”

  “I told him you were heartsick. Which is the truth. Although I knew he would misinterpret my words.”

  I shook my head and sank to the chair where I had taken refuge before. “I am—he is—I don’t know that I can bear to be in the same room with him. That girl—that child—and he stole her from Alora—”

  Elisandra crossed the room and came to a halt directly in front of me. My head was in my hands and I did not look up; I stared at her fine silk slippers through a haze of falling tears.

  “He is the same man he always was,” she said calmly. “He loves you as much as he ever did. He has hunted aliora for twenty years, and you loved him for seventeen of those years. What has changed? How is he different?”

  “Perhaps I am different!” I cried, wrenching myself to my feet and beginning to pace. “Perhaps I didn’t realize—and maybe I should have realized!—and now I do, and it’s horrible. There’s so much wretchedness and misery—and he has caused it! He has been cruel! And I cannot believe I did not see it before, and I cannot believe I could have loved him.”

  She turned to watch me as I paced, making no effort to stop me. “I despise his trading in the aliora,” she said, still in that serene voice. “It makes me heartsick as well. Yet it is a profession that the world views as honorable. He has received praise and glory and monetary advantage for pursuing this career. What is to tell him that it is an evil thing to do?”

  “His heart!”

  She nodded. “You have hunted with a trained hawk on your wrist. Wasn’t that once a wild creature? Didn’t some hunter steal it from its native habitat, tear it from its mate and offspring, force it into a foreign way of life? And yet no one worries over the hawks in their cages or thinks they have been mistreated. How is it any different to capture an aliora?”

  I had stopped in my striding; now, through puffy red eyes, I stared at her. “It is different,” I whispered.

  She nodded again. “It is different,” she said. “But some men do not think so. How are they to learn that? Unless someone tells them. Unless they discover it for themselves.”

  “He will never discover it on his own!” I cried.

  She appeared to consider. “I think he will,” she said. “I think he already has. And he stole this child because—because he was afraid he did not have the heart to do it. He seems very proud of himself, but there is something in him. . . . I think that visit to Alora took more from him than even he has realized.”

  I shook my head violently. “How can you understand him? How can you forgive him? Such a cruel man, who has done such terrible things—”

  Now her face changed, though the expression was hard to read. It went from her habitual tranquillity to a look that was even more remote. “I have known men much worse than Jaxon,” she said quietly. “I will never call him cruel.”

  9

  During the next two days, I recovered some of my equilibrium, though I still avoided Jaxon. I was beginning to regret my easy bargain with Cloate, which had resulted in my downing half a draught of that benighted potion. It had not opened my eyes to the charms of a lover, oh no; it had opened my eyes to the true natures of everyone else around me. I was wishing with some intensity to still have my eyes tight shut.

  It was not only Jaxon I could not bear to see these two days, but also Hennessey of Mellidon, Angela, and even Bryan. To me everyone seemed either shallow or tainted, and I wished with all my heart to be back at my grandmother’s cottage. There at least I understood the rivalries and the desires. Here, nothing was simple and everything was suspect.

  So, again, I slept late and avoided the communal breakfasts, slipping out of the castle sometime around noon. Both of these days I went on long, solitary rides, which I broke with vigorous walks while my poor horse rested. The day of the ball I rode so far, and walked so long, that the afternoon sun was seriously thinking about setting before I was on my way back to the castle. I had much to do before the dinner that night—bathe, wash my hair, dress my hair, step into the gorgeous folds of the red silk dress that had been designed for me. . . . I urged my horse forward faster.

  I had traveled about half an hour on my homeward route when a rider came in sight in the distance. It was not long before I could make out his black-and-gold livery, the colors of Auburn. Soon enough he resolved himself into Roderick.

  Who appeared to be looking for me.

  He sent his horse in a wide circle and drew up beside me as I continued toward the castle. I was disproportionately glad to see him. “Roderick!” I exclaimed as he jogged up. “Are you out hunting for game?”

  He sat on his mount with his usual air of relaxed negligence. He looked fairer, taller, and thicker in the bones. A man. He had still been almost a boy when I first met him three years earlier. “Hunting for you,” he said. “Your sister was worried.”

  “But I’m fine. I always go out riding by myself.”

  He glanced at the sky, gauging time by the angle of the sun. “I guess she thought you’d be back by now. A lot of activity going on at the castle tonight.”

  I nodded gloomily. “The ball.”

  He glanced my way with a small grin. “You don’t sound too excited about it.”

  I sighed, laughed, and ran a hand through my unbound hair. It was a knotted mess. It would take forever to brush and clean and curl. “I don’t think I’m cut out for court life,” I said. “I am not enjoying this season, that’s for sure.”

  He seemed to listen with more attention than he usually gave me. “So, you think you’d be happy back in your grandmother’s village, never seeing the fancy nobles of Castle Auburn again?”

  “If not for Elisandra,” I said.

  “If not for Elisandra,” he repeated.

  “Yes. Oh, yes. I’m not fancy myself. The more I’m here—this year, anyway—the less I want to stay.”

  He gave that small, quick smile that lightened his wide features and was gone. “I have to say that life at Castle Auburn is not exactly what I thought it would be, either.”

  I looked at him curiously. “But you were mad to come. Didn’t you say so once? You couldn’t wait to leave your father’s farm and journey to the prince’s court.”

  He nodded. “Yes. The honor and excitement of being a king’s guardsman. There was nothing that could have held me back from tasting that life.”

  “And now?”

  “Now?” He seemed to consider the landscape before him, as if its green contours were engraved with the answers he wanted. “Like you, I have a compelling reason to stay. But it is not the reason I expected when I came here. And if it did not exist—yes, I think I could go back to my father’s farm and be happy. I know I could. I could buy my own land, raise my own cattle, be a simple man again.” He glanced at me, a trace of humor in his hazel eyes. “I’m not a fancy man, either, as it turns out.”

  I had fastened my attention on his earlier remark—that he had a compelling reason to stay put. “I’ve seen you with her,” I said before I could think. “I was surprised at first but—but she’s a good enough girl, I suppose.”

  Now the look he turned on me was both narrowed and watchful. “Who have you seen me with?” he said.

  I gestured ineffectively. “Daria. My sister’s maid. She came to the weapons yard to watch you practice.”

  His eyes didn’t waver from my face. No more looking to the landscape for answers. “Daria is not the reason I
am staying.”

  Now I was astonished. I had been convinced. “But you said there was a woman—”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what I said. I said there was a reason. I did not say who or what the reason was.”

  “But I—” Now I was embarrassed. And if he was not in love with Daria . . . but he still had no reason to favor me. I felt awkward and stupid. “I’m sorry, then, I guess I assumed—”

  Now he was grinning again. He shifted in the saddle to face forward once more. “Although she is a good girl, as you say, and a pretty thing. But my heart is not free.”

  “I have no interest in your heart,” I said crossly.

  He laughed aloud and gave me a sideways glance. “No, and I have no interest in yours,” he said. “Shall we be friends, then?”

  “It’s not much of a friendship when one of you never makes any effort to see the other of you and then only teases you or scolds you when he does see you,” I said very rapidly and childishly.

  Roderick was even more amused. “I don’t tease you. And I’ve only ever scolded you when you were foolish. But you might notice that it’s not my place to do either of those things—Lady Coriel.”

  “Well, you do avoid me,” I said. “This is the first time you’ve talked to me this summer.”

  His voice gentled. “How can I seek you out, living in the Halsing suites as you do? Every time I have seen you from a distance, you have been talking to some lord or off on some errand. Guardsmen are not at liberty to claim the attention of a lady such as yourself.”

  “Well, then—well, then,” I said, both elated and a little nervous. “What do your duties allow? Can you ride with me?”

  “My mornings are bespoken and most of my evenings. There are two afternoons a week I am free.”