by Barb Hendee
“Lieutenant?” she asked, deciding it was best to appear as if she was deferring to his authority, which she was.
Jaromir motioned to a lean, middle-aged man near the front, and then gestured toward the empty chair. “Guardsman,” he said.
This was clearly an order and not a “request,” as Céline had delicately put it, but she noticed how quickly the man moved, and that the men here did not seem to mind being organized or ordered by Jaromir.
“Yes, sir,” the man said.
They’re glad he’s taken over, she thought. They wanted someone like him in charge.
However, as the man sat in front of Céline, he suddenly grew anxious again, wiping his dirty hands on his breeches. “Sorry, my lady. I didn’t know that . . .”
“It’s all right,” she assured him. “I just need to touch your hand.”
Reaching out, she gripped two of his fingers and closed her eyes. Then she counted her blessings that she didn’t have to hide what she was really doing here or pretend to be providing entertainment—as she had sometimes done in the past for Jaromir.
“What are your duties tonight?” she asked with her eyes still closed.
“Tonight? I’ll be on watch on the south-side perimeter until the mid of night, and then I’ll be relieved.”
Céline used her mind to feel for the spark of his spirit, to focus on him in his duties among the night watch and move forward from there. She connected with his spirit right away, but no jolt hit her.
“What about tomorrow?” she asked. “What will your daily duties be?”
“I don’t know, my lady. The lieutenant said he was going to go over the roster and reassign some of us. Normally, I’d be helping take care of the horses.”
Céline let her focus flow forward, trying to see the future of this soldier tomorrow and beyond, but again, nothing came to her.
Opening her eyes, she let go of his fingers and patted his hand. “I see nothing dangerous in your near future.”
He exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath. “Is that all you need from me, then?”
She nodded, and he stood up. She was about to choose the next soldier herself when Corporal Quinn strode through the open tent flap, looking semialarmed.
“What is this . . . ? I stopped to check on the captain, and Lady Amelie told me—”
“Corporal!” Jaromir barked. “May I speak to you outside?”
Quinn fell silent, but he didn’t look happy. Céline assumed that although he was well aware that Jaromir had assumed command, Quinn had probably not realized this would entail Jaromir openly countermanding Keegan’s previous orders.
As Jaromir stepped past her, he asked quietly, “Can you handle this?”
“Yes.”
Both men stepped outside the tent, and some of the soldiers began whispering among themselves. Céline noted a round-faced young man only a few paces away from her. This one had less fear in his eyes, and he was watching her with more curiosity than anything else.
Smiling at him, she motioned to the now empty chair.
Without hesitation, he sat.
Reaching out, she grasped his fingers and closed her eyes. “What are your duties tonight?”
“I don’t take watch again until the mid of night shift. Tomorrow is supposed to be my day off unless the lieutenant decides otherwise.”
Again, she felt for the spark of the young man’s spirit and found it right away. Letting her mind drift forward, she focused on his night watch duties and felt nothing. Then . . . as she moved farther forward, a jolt hit her, and she braced herself.
The soft sounds around her in the tent vanished, and she was jerked into the mists, rushing forward, fearing what she might see. Though she knew she had to do this, it didn’t make observing death or suffering any easier.
The mists cleared, and she found herself standing in broad daylight. Looking around, she realized she was in the miners’ encampment among the collection of shacks and huts.
“Lianne, we have to tell him. We can’t go on like this. It’s not right.”
Turning, Céline saw the round-faced young man. He was holding hands with a girl . . . and pleading with her. “Let me speak to him, please.”
“But, Jadon,” she answered, “what if he says no?”
Moving closer, Céline studied the girl. Her homespun gown was shabby, and her features were somewhat plain, with eyes set too closely together and a mouth full of crooked teeth. But she had lovely hair, a rich shade of chestnut that she wore in a neat, thick braid down her back.
More important, she was looking at the young soldier, whom she’d called Jadon, with open affection, and Céline was well aware of the great shortage of affection in this camp.
“He won’t refuse,” Jadon said. “I’ll explain everything to him.”
“He won’t believe you. He doesn’t trust soldiers.”
“He will. If he wants to help with arrangements, I’ll marry you tomorrow in front of twenty witnesses, and I’ll swear to take you with me when we leave, that I’ll always care for you. If he loves you, he’ll want something better for you than this place.”
“Oh, Jadon,” she breathed, moving closer to him.
Leaning down, he kissed her softly on the mouth.
The kiss lasted only a moment or two before an angry shout sounded. “You! What are you doing? Get your hands off her!”
Looking across the encampment, Céline saw an enraged man carrying a pickaxe striding toward them. Jadon’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword, but the girl gasped.
“No. You can’t fight my father.” Her voice filled with pain. “And he’ll never listen to what you say now. Run!”
The mists rushed in and Céline found herself back in the large tent, looking at the young soldier—who stared back. All the men were poised and tensed.
“No danger,” Céline said quickly, somehow resuming her smile.
But as the soldiers began talking amongst themselves again, she leaned forward. “Your name is Jadon? And you are in love with a chestnut-haired girl named Lianne, a miner’s daughter?”
Jadon blinked several times. “How did you—?”
“The next time you visit her near her home, you will discuss how to tell her father of your plans to marry. Whatever you do, do not kiss Lianne. Don’t even hold her hand. He will be coming soon, and if he sees you touching her, he won’t listen to your case. Stand off from her a pace or two, and he will be more amenable to listen. Do you understand?”
He sputtered in what sounded like confusion for a second or two and then nodded.
Glancing over at the open doorway, Céline saw Jaromir and Quinn both watching her. Jaromir wouldn’t want her wasting time helping two star-crossed lovers, so she shook her head once at him and then turned back to motion Jadon out of the chair.
Young Guardsman Graham was in the mix of gathered soldiers, and her gaze fell on him. He was standing halfway behind Guardsman Saunders. Poor boy. His eyes—one brown and one blue—were still sad. Such a fragile young man did not belong in the military, and she realized he must have depended a good deal on Ramsey. The thought of what had become of Ramsey in that barn unsettled her, and she decided to get this over for Graham as quickly as possible, so she motioned to him with her hand.
Most of the men appeared more relaxed now that they’d seen how the process worked—and they’d seen two men read and immediately excused.
Graham came out from behind Saunders and approached cautiously, sinking into the chair. “Do I just sit here?”
“For the most part, yes,” she answered, reaching out. “I need to touch your hand.”
His fingers were smaller and more slender than those of the previous two soldiers, and his skin was warmer. She closed her eyes. “What is your duty schedule tonight?”
Before he even answered, the first jolt hit her, and she acci
dentally bit the inside of her mouth. The second jolt hit and she was caught in the mists, being swept forward.
The journey was brief.
When the mists cleared, she was standing outside, in almost utter darkness, listening to the sound of someone choking. A single hanging lantern on the far side of a tent provided the only illumination, but she looked down and about twenty paces away to see Guardsman Graham kneeling in the dirt.
No, she thought, Not him.
Gagging hard, he was struggling to breathe, and she longed to do something, to try to help. Graham cried out as his clothing began to split. Even in the darkness, Céline could see fur sprouting on his hands as his face began to elongate and his chest swelled to an astonishing size.
Within moments, she was looking at an enormous wolf with red eyes. Saliva dripped from its fangs.
The shouts of other soldiers began echoing all around.
The wolf crouched and snarled . . . It charged.
The scene vanished.
“Céline!”
Someone called her name, and she opened her eyes to find herself on her feet, being held up by Jaromir—who was gripping both her shoulders. She was back in the tent.
“Come out of it,” he ordered. “What do you see?”
Looking down, she saw Graham in his chair, rigid, as he, too, waited for her to speak. Her first instinct was to lie and say that she simply saw something frightening in her own future—and then find a way to tell Jaromir quietly. She didn’t want to expose this young man in front of the other soldiers. But Jaromir had made her promise. He’d told her to trust him.
His eyes were expectant.
Against everything in her nature, she said clearly, “It’s him. Graham is turned next.”
* * *
Just as Jaromir expected, as the words left Céline’s mouth, pandemonium broke out in the tent—complete with several men drawing their weapons and Graham looking at the doorway as if he’d bolt.
Jaromir let go of Céline and grabbed Graham by the arm.
“Stand down!” he shouted at the men and then called out, “Quinn! Rurik!”
Rurik was already pushing through, coming to his aid, and Quinn appeared at his side. The corporal had been uncomfortable with Jaromir’s rescinding of Keegan’s command, but thankfully, he was still following orders.
“Get the boy’s other arm,” Jaromir told him. “Rurik, get Céline out of here.”
Without looking back or wasting a moment, Jaromir headed for the exit.
“To the barn,” he told Quinn.
With himself on one side of Graham and Quinn on the other, they rapidly half escorted, half dragged the boy across the camp and into the barn. Once inside, Jaromir closed the barn doors.
Graham was panting in what sounded like panic. “Is she right? Is it going to happen to me?”
In truth, Jaromir didn’t know. Céline saw the future, but now that she’d exposed the boy as the next victim, anything could change. They’d proven that back in Sèone. The future could be changed by a single action. However, besides himself, no one but Céline and Amelie knew that a future could be altered, and now that he had a possible victim in his grasp, he needed to see how this would play out.
“Calm down,” he ordered Graham. He motioned through the stalls toward the back of the barn. “We’re going to tie you to a stake so that you can’t hurt anyone, but I swear that we’ll protect you unless you . . . change.”
Graham swallowed and appeared to be attempting to get ahold of himself. “And what if I do change?”
“Let’s cross that bridge if we reach it.” Jaromir knew this was a weak answer, but he had nothing better to offer.
* * *
Not long after, Céline was back sitting at Keegan’s bedside. Darkness had fallen, and several candle lanterns glowed from small tabletops. She was only too aware that whatever Jaromir had in mind regarding poor Graham, he’d never had any intention of discussing it with her, and she was going to have to wait for information. So she’d let Rurik escort her to Keegan’s tent, where she’d filled Amelie in—on what little she knew—and told Amelie to go and eat something and try to get some rest. After her sister had agreed and left, Céline asked Rurik to find Jaromir and see if he could learn what was going on.
His rapid agreement suggested that he wanted to know just as badly as she did.
And now . . . she sat tending to Keegan, who continued to drift in and out. She believed he would live, but mushroom poisoning was complicated, with a variety of aftereffects. Keegan’s recovery might be a slow one.
As she sponged his face, footsteps sounded behind her. Turning, she hoped to see Jaromir but wasn’t surprised when Rurik came into view. He stopped beside a hanging tapestry.
“Is Graham safe?” she asked. “Where is he?”
Rurik hesitated before answering. “The lieutenant tied him to a stake in the barn, and he’s made sure word is spreading through both camps.”
“What?”
Céline was aghast. She’d had no idea what Jaromir planned to do, but it never occurred to her that he’d tie up the young soldier out in the barn.
Rurik held up one hand and glanced down to make sure Keegan was asleep. “Don’t worry. The lieutenant is there in the barn, hiding. But no one else knows that except for Corporal Quinn.”
“So . . . ,” Céline asked, confused, “Jaromir is guarding Graham himself, in secret?”
“More than that. I think he wants to see if anyone tries to visit, to do anything.”
And then Céline began to understand what Jaromir was up to. Graham had been pointed out as the next one who would turn. If someone was doing this to the men on purpose, how would he—or she—react to knowing the next victim was tied up in the barn?
Would the culprit try to slip in and set Graham free to do as much damage as possible? Or . . . if the process could be reversed, would he or she try to stop it from happening in order to discount any more finger-pointing from Céline?
But Jaromir had promised he wouldn’t use whomever she named as bait.
Wait . . . had he promised?
Suddenly, she wanted to be alone.
“What does the lieutenant want you to do now?” she asked Rurik.
“He told me to look out for you and Amelie.”
“I’m fine here. I think Amelie’s in our tent. Will you go and check on her?”
Rurik nodded and vanished.
Full darkness had fallen outside, and Céline fought against her rising guilt over having exposed poor Graham. She should have known Jaromir would try something like this. When he’d said, Trust me, she’d assumed he would not put anyone at such risk—much less do something so humiliating as tying the person to a stake. He’d practically lied to her face.
Did he want to finish this so badly he was willing to put her trust of him in question?
A part of her almost couldn’t blame him. She wanted to go home, too, to her shop . . . to Anton . . . to all that was familiar. She wanted to leave this place behind.
Keegan’s breathing deepened, and he seemed to be in a more comfortable sleep now. That was a good sign. Céline sat back in her chair and closed her eyes for a few moments.
And in her partially relaxed state, she felt a familiar sensation, like the one she’d felt the first night here after crawling into bed. There was something outside, something that called her.
Standing up, she leaned over and felt Keegan’s forehead.
He would be all right alone for a short while.
Unable to stop herself, she left the tent.
* * *
Instead of using the oversized, makeshift harness—which would not have fit—Jaromir had tied Graham with two ropes, one tied very loosely around his neck and one around his ankle, both finished with stout knots, and the ends of both were secured to a stake. Tying
the young man’s hands and ankles tightly had seemed a possible option at first, but the physical change these men underwent had proven strong enough to break the links in chain armor, so Jaromir had opted for something from which a wolf might have trouble breaking free. At least it should hold the beast long enough for Jaromir to . . . take any necessary action.
After making sure that Graham had food and water within reach, Jaromir piled up bundles of hay and made himself a hiding place with a vantage point from which he could see the guardsman.
Before going into hiding, he told Graham, “Don’t worry. I won’t take my eyes off you, and I won’t let anyone hurt you. Quinn has ordered all the men to stay out of the barn, on pain of imprisonment themselves.”
Graham nodded miserably. He was clearly more afraid of what would happen to him if he began to change.
At present, there was nothing Jaromir could do to alleviate that fear. So he crouched down behind the hay and made certain he could see Graham through a crack between the bundles. Graham ignored the food and water, and after a few moments, he lay down on the floor. A single lantern on the floor—out of his reach—provided the only source of light other than a thin moonbeam coming in through one of the high windows.
Jaromir had nothing to do but wait and observe.
Unfortunately, this gave him too much time to think, and thinking was the last thing he wanted to do.
He worried what Céline would think of him when she learned what he’d done with the information she’d provided. Would she ever trust him again?
He respected her greatly and often marveled at her skills as a healer, but she had no capability for making hard or necessary decisions, and that one flaw made her less useful to him.
Worse, much worse, he couldn’t get Amelie out of his head. What he’d done in the forest earlier that afternoon was unforgivable. She was young and inexperienced, and she could so easily fall in love with him. He’d thought he could satisfy himself by teasing her and flirting with her and putting any other feelings on a back shelf. But everything about her pulled at him, and in a moment of weakness he’d given in . . . when he knew he’d never be able to give her what she needed: the love of equals.
