Silver Hollow

by Jennifer Silverwood

  “Great! Finally someone in Deliverance watches television!” Amie rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the rate her heart was pounding, ignore the ache in her chest. Rage seemed the best way to go.

  The smirk was instantly wiped off his face and what replaced it made Amie regret her jab. He took a step forward. “Even if I’m aware of the outside, those of the Vale have no need to waste their time in your world with mindless entertainment.”

  “Sounds like you’re no more of the Vale than me.” She tilted up her chin to meet his dark eyes.

  Wasn’t he over there a second ago?

  Acid on the edge of his words, he hissed back, “You might want to know the superiority of your enemy before throwing mindless insults around.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Amie was silently wondering if his warning had been for her sake after all, especially when fury lit his eyes a bloody red.

  “That is exactly what I am doing. And if you stopped looking with your eyes and listened here.” He jabbed her in the chest, directly over the knife wound he had somehow healed. “Then you wouldn’t need to rely on anger to rationalize your thinking and we wouldn’t be in this muddle!” Throwing up his hands, he turned around and gave a cursory glance at his horse when Ambrose whickered disapprovingly. “Save your breath, Ambrose, I don’t want to hear it…slashed for a bogwren and twice as nixed, she is…”

  Amie crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey! I’m right here. Any mindless insults you want to throw my way, feel free.”

  He paused and turned to eye her obvious comeback with a wry grin. “I shall collect them for later. Now I’m hungry as a wolf and want to see what horrors Alastair has slipped into my soup this time. The fool still hasn’t forgiven me and forgets I’m more than willing to do something about our troubled history.”

  A tug of a smile pulled her cheeks and Amie fought the urge. The man had called her stupid in the indirect British way Amie so loved after all. Remembering her resolve and the fact this was the stalker who had saved her life the night Amie lost it, she tried civility. “You have a lot of questions to answer, you know.”

  His grin transformed his otherwise unremarkable face into something akin to Slaine’s troubling scowl. “Keep digging for your answers, lass, and let me keep mine.”

  Amie turned at the nip on her cloak. She had stumbled back against Jellybean’s stall during their fight and wanted to scream her frustrations into his thick coat. Instead she patted his nose and grumbled, “I take it back. You obviously belong here. You’re as crazy as the rest of them.”

  Ambrose answered her comment with a whicker that nearly sounded like laughter. Amie narrowed her eyes at the black beauty and realized she was alone again in the manor stables. Her watcher had disappeared and Amie sensed something shift in the winds smelling of change.

  Chapter 21

  Educational Edifices

  Dinner was well on its way by the time they entered the kitchens. Underhill flew past them in a flurry of skirts. Amie was less than pleased Emrys had followed her inside, perturbed when he sat across from her wearing his ridiculous superior grin.

  Emrys made no reply to their comments, but his eyes flashed a score of different colors and Amie was starting to lose her mind. She was pleased to see at least Cook was displeased to see him as she was, judging from the way he shoved the stew bowl in front of the stranger so bits fell onto his lap, and muttered, “Featherbrains.”

  Underhill skipped from Reggie the Butler’s side to lean over her shoulder. She hissed low so only Amie could hear her, “Shame on you for disappearing all day in such a faerie fashion, Lady Wenderdowne. We were hoping to show you the Ballroom today. Sweet salamanders but we have enough mouths to feed without worrying over the Lady of the House.”

  Cook piped up as if he had been part of their conspiracy the whole time. “Thanks for allowing me to spend the day alone with me beloved, milady.”

  He winked and Underhill called after him. “Alastair! Make certain she is properly fed! Milady, I’m leaving you in Slaine’s care for the moment. Too much to do with so little time to prepare for all our guests! Don’t make me regret it, Mr. Cutterworthy!” And just like that, she marched Amie over to the table and practically ran out of the kitchen to fulfill her duties. But not without one nasty glare for the stranger no one had yet mentioned.

  “Guests?” Amie muttered, half listening to Underhill’s mad musings. She was still trying to grasp the fact her stalker was sitting right across from her, with a cup of tea in his hands no less.

  His chuckle was what drew Amie’s eyes. She scowled the moment his sharp eyes found hers and his mouth turned up into a lopsided grin. “Stop smiling at me like you know something I don’t,” Amie said.

  His brow rose as he offered, “I should scowl at ye then?”

  Rolling her eyes, Amie settled her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand, grumbling to herself.

  Slaine puffed his pipe, grinning up at the two of them. “Ah, trust the Merlin to stir up as much mischief as he can before announcing himself proper.” Amie hadn’t noticed he and Eddie tucked away at the hearth, pipe and stew in hand. Pointing the stem of his pipe towards Emrys, he added, “Here I was thinking nothing could ever surprise me nixed soul. And then the Merlin flies back to our coop at last! Ha!”

  Eddie’s spoon stopped en route to his gaping mouth, eyes taking in the man in question, then slowly narrowing.

  “Slaine,” Underhill hissed, waving a cloud of white pipe smoke from her face. “Put that pipe and your ridiculous notions to rest, ye old fool!”

  Emrys stirred his stew round, watched the concoction with tempered fascination. “Still spreading those ridiculous rumors, Cutterworthy? I thought you’d turned into a respectable bard.”

  Slaine’s chuckle overpowered whatever curses Cook was muttering under his breath opposite them now. The giant of a man looked like he was ready to punch the lights out of their guest. Something stayed his hand, however. Amie had heard the tall tales of his boxing matches in the village long ago, which remained the most renowned in the Vale as he told it. Nothing should make him afraid of Emrys.

  Amie smiled at the nicely made plate Cook had set out for her. Alastair interrupted his heavy grimace with a wide grin of his own and quick wink before sitting beside her. From here he was best able to direct his open disdain to Emrys and plainly warn the stranger in their midst not to mess with their Lady.

  The guest of Wenderdowne had not lifted his eyes from his spoon in some time, yet her skin pricked and burned with his unseen glances. Not to be accused of staring herself, she tasted the soup and grinned up at the modest Cook. “So where did Underhill run off to in such a hurry?”

  Alastair shrugged one burly shoulder. “Oh, she has to make certain the centaurs get enough…Gah! What in blasted twix whiskers is your problem?” Cook jumped from his chair with alarming speed and seemed ready to jump over the table before Slaine appeared between them and gripped his shoulder with a solid hand.

  “Calm your nixy, laddie!” he grunted, pipe between his teeth.

  Amie jumped back as their guest practically threw his bowl into the air. Within seconds the contents washed over Alastair and marked her already wet cloak. Alastair thrust his fist at the air. “Lemme at him, Cutterworthy! He’s had it a long time coming, the ole bat-winged slime toes!”

  “Contain yourself, Alastair!” Slaine mysteriously was able to drag the much larger man over to his corner of the kitchen and prop him in his empty chair. Eddie watched on, soup spilling from his gaping mouth.

  Amie didn’t blame him. In one instant the eccentric docile Cook had set free the flame of his temper and Amie could only stare at their guest, incredulous. Emrys’ eyes held hers throughout Cook’s tantrum, chuckling and glowing with anything but an apology. Glaring at the smug intruder, she said, “Well?”

  He propped his chin in hand, dark eyebrows dancing as he appraised her. “Well, indeed?”

  “Aren’t you going to apologize? You
kind of threw your dinner on him.”

  Emrys shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I thought I should give Alastair another reason to hate me.”

  Amie shook her head. “Some guest you are! I’m starting to wonder if Uncle Henry wanted you here or not.”

  His smirk fell flat. “Are you in a position to challenge me, Jessamiene?”

  She stood to her feet, still outraged for the cook who had quickly become her friend. “All I know is since you showed up everyone seems to be angry for some reason.”

  “Except him,” he said, pointing. Slaine watched on with his usual unfocused grin. The cabbie held Cook down as he pummelled the table instead of Emrys.

  Patting him between puffs of his pipe, Slaine soothed, “Blow your steam, laddie, before ye implode.”

  “I’ll pluck every feather off his spittle-tarred head! Ye hear me?” Alastair growled.

  Slaine only chuckled. “Perhaps a time or two about with Eddie, aye lad?” Cuffing the boy’s ear, he practically handed the giant cook over to his right hand’s stew-stained fingertips. Eddie was still munching on his biscuit when Slaine marched them out the door and into the peak of dusk. As though only disposing of the trash, he dusted his hands on his muddied coat tails and smiled at Amie. “Now that the worst is behind us, Lady Wenderdowne is wondering why the Merlin has flown his coop in the first place, why he should ever return to his cage and what is to come of it?”

  Amie glanced at their unwelcomed guest in spite of herself. “Something like that.”

  “Stop teasing her, Slaine. She doesn’t like it.” Emrys’ eyes gleamed unnaturally against the fire and candlelit glow of Cook’s kitchens. Even with the owner of these rooms gone and currently smashing bits of wood to splinters outside, the stranger possessed his seat and the shadows surrounding it. Almost as if he was setting claim to everything his eyes touched, making his fixation with her all the more disturbing.

  Sitting taller in her seat, she retorted, “Stop assuming you would ever know what I like.”

  Slaine drew long on his pipe, pupils darting back and forth merrily over the two. “Aye, ’tis the way he would have wanted it.”

  Brushing her with his gaze, he turned back to Mr. Cutterworthy and stated, “You have told her nothing.”

  Amie beseeched Slaine with a silent question and saw something akin to truth in those pale orbs, one slightly more focused than the other. Both met her with a sharp and painful clarity now. It was the truest face anyone of the House had given her, besides the stranger.

  Henry ordered all of them not to tell me anything.

  She felt very alone and very lost. When her eyes found the man who was no longer technically a stranger she blinked and his confidence was replaced with sorrow.

  Slaine’s hand was unsteady at the next draw of his pipe. “Jessamiene Nimue Wenderdowne, ye shall be met by Emrys, protector and bane of the Vale. He was called to be your protector and instructor in the Seelie way.”

  She couldn’t look away from him. A dark dread settled past the skin of her scar and somewhere deeper than she could remember. Too quickly the air became rather difficult to swallow.

  My teacher? You mean I actually have to hang out with my stalker?

  “I look forward to tomorrow morning’s lesson, Jessamiene,” Emrys finished and braced his feet on the table to tilt back in his chair.

  …

  Nothing could have satisfied her after enduring an hour with Emrys the Merlin besides the promising release books provided her. Tearing through the halls in her house slippers, this time without the aid of a candle, Amie headed for the forgotten library.

  She wanted to tear her hair out or at least scream until her voice went hoarse. Realizing everyone in the castle was being paid to keep silence around her didn’t exactly help her trust issues. She didn’t want to delve into why she felt betrayed by the one person she had come to trust in this madhouse. Confronting her uncle wasn’t a pleasant prospect but she knew eventually it would be necessary. Talking to the stranger he had hired to stalk her across the world and now train her wasn’t an option either. The books Henry had carefully selected for her short bookcase weren’t telling her anything. Only the hidden library had tempted her with the answers she craved.

  You want something done, you’ve got to do it yourself, chickadee.

  With her father’s ring on her finger, Amie discovered she didn’t need a candle to light her way. After avoiding ruined beams and fallen glass because of the inner sight the ring gave, Amie managed to find the hallway easily. Light escaped beneath the door and welcomed her like a lighthouse beacon. Pages rustled in the hush of ancient silence, coming to life the moment she stepped over the threshold of the library. Her eyes grazed the tapestry of creatures hunting humans and fixed on the flame-tainted fireplace in the near distance.

  She plopped onto the rug, clutched her chest with her hands and doubled over as she fought to control her sobs. Tears made the orange flames shiver and brighten, which irritated her sensitive eyes.

  The giant eagle’s head peered down at her from above the mantel, golden eyes soft as they observed her. Once more she found herself talking to it. “I don’t know why Henry would leave me and send him to watch over me. He’s worse than all of them put together. None of them care about anything except turning me into Lady Wenderdowne.”

  She stared back at the glassy eyes of the eagle, laughed when she even paused for a response. “Guess I’m being a little dramatic, huh? I know I’m supposed to be tougher. I should be like Oberon and suck it up. They really do spoil me too much around here. You’d think I was royalty the way they carry on. But you understand, don’t you? I’m sure you were like the king of eagles where you came from.” She laughed and felt better for it, even if she was talking to a dead animal.

  “Right, guess I should do something useful. After what happened last night maybe I am ready to do the impossible.” Nodding as if listening to something clever she turned to find the books she had left open during her last visit and fought a sudden chill. Every one of the books she had pulled out was now stacked neatly in the table’s corner. When she crossed the floor to inspect the giant tomes that had replaced them, a frown replaced her curiosity.

  Reading aloud, she began, “Gerard, the greatest of Gryffin’s Gentle Gryphons, was the first to offer a peace treaty to the Centaurs of Custardly Chire.” Pausing, she remarked, “Wow, just when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder.”

  Chapter 22

  Bane of the Vale

  To her horror, the only occupant of the kitchens the following morning was the one man she was hoping to avoid.

  “Good morning, Jessamiene.” Emrys tipped back his goblet with a tap of his fingertips. As he sipped whatever substance he had waiting at the bottom of his cup Amie took him in. Beneath her lashes she saw his shirtsleeves were rolled up, suspenders holding his black pants in place. Altogether he looked too casual for the unpleasant day ahead of them.

  Amie tried to smile back. She had slept little the night before after spending most of it in the library. “Morning.”

  He rewarded her with another of his deep-set grins, tugging his cheeks into a sinful pair of dimples. “I see you are catching on to our ways at last…oh, do forgive me, their ways. According to you I am no more of the Vale than you are. Not that I’m surprised. Your kind has always been impossible to convince of anything but what’s sitting in front of them.”

  Amie took a seat across from Emrys and proceeded to eat breakfast. She glared at him while munching on her bread and surveyed the room once more. “I’m assuming you scared everyone off with your perfect manners?”

  “Perfect manners?” He was genuinely surprised. “If I were to show perfect manners they would be inclined to stay only to see how long it lasted. I never played well with their house rules. Now the rules of my trade are another matter.”

  “And just what is it you do, Emrys?”

  His eyes sparked at her curiosity. “For now I try and fail to keep y
ou out of trouble, which is far more difficult a job than I bargained for. You’re lucky I was in your uncle’s debt.” He was baiting her.

  She didn’t care.

  “What’s he got over you?”

  Leaning forward in his chair he gripped the table and grinned. “Aye, see! You really are learning to think for yourself, aren’t you? Instead of trusting every half-truth they shove into your mind.”

  “I’ll never learn anything unless you people start giving me answers,” she huffed, exasperated. She never had been good at containing her emotions. They always betrayed her and by the look in Emrys’ eyes, he could read every one of them.

  “Very well,” he said after a meditative pause. “I’ve had many professions, some I can recall vividly, others hidden in the shadows of my memory. To tell you all would waste more time then we’ve already lost, and I’d rather get on to the lesson before supper.” His slap on the table shook the cutlery and startled her. Standing at the table’s edge, he surprised her further by holding out an open palm. Amie had never seen so many scars confined to so small a patch of skin.

  His long fingers closed into a fist the moment he recognized the track of her gaze, falling against his side. Instead of escorting her as he’d intended, Emrys turned to snatch his long cloak instead. With his back turned to her she could no longer hear that constant amusement the next time he spoke.

  “Put this on.” She almost missed the bundle of a cloak that was tossed her way. “The leaves are already changing and the wind packs a vicious bite.”

  …

  Amie was unprepared for lessons with Emrys. She didn’t have a clue what lessons with your protector looked like or why her uncle would want him to instruct her. He hardly looked like a trustworthy guy, especially now that she saw him in his element. Her sideways glances confirmed her first instincts. Something about him was borderline feral and even he admitted he was not a gentleman. Yet Uncle Henry trusted him, or at least held something big enough over the man to keep him behaving. The trouble with people like that, Father had once explained, was they were entirely unpredictable.