by Morgan Henry
* * * *
Arto’s rage-fuelled limbs wouldn’t allow him to sit, so he paced like a stallion two fences away from a mare in heat.
“So, you went for a ride with Valina and didn’t think to tell anyone where you were going, much less take appropriate protection with you?” He was barely able to keep his voice civil.
“We just went around the castle grounds and into the city. I really don’t understand why you’re so beside yourself about this. I am accustomed to setting my own schedule and pursuing my own interests.” Cella was seated in front of the fireplace looking at him. She seemed confused and more irritated than angry.
He was angry.
How could she not think she needed some protection? She was a highly placed noblewoman and could easily be kidnapped and ransomed or outright killed to foment war between Jorval and Kerban. Even if she was “only” robbed, he would still be devastated that she had been hurt at all. Kerfaen was not a crime-free city, despite Graydon’s best efforts.
Though he wasn’t about to tell Cella this, he wasn’t sure the breaking of the billet straps was an accident. Why two at the exact same time?
“You could be far too easily hurt or taken to be out without an escort.” He held up his hand when she made to interrupt him. “You have no training with a sword or dagger to protect yourself. You don’t know your way around, so if you were separated from Valina, or if she were hurt, both of you would be in trouble. I know you’re not a child, but you’re also not familiar with Kerfaen, or Kerban. By the God and Goddess, use some common sense!”
Now Cella looked angry. Perhaps that last sentence that slipped out went a bit too far. No, he thought, it didn’t, damn it.
“You’re right, I am not a child. But if Valina goes without an escort, I presumed it would be safe enough for me. After all, is she not to be protected, either?” There was an edge to Cella’s voice that Arto hadn’t heard before.
“She damn well should have an escort. I’ll be speaking to Vigo about that later. I doubt he knows she’s been wandering off on her own or he and Lady Lyr would have put a stop to it.” It was unconscionable that either lady be in danger.
“Nothing happened and you’re overreacting. I don’t mind an escort, but I will not be confined to the Keep. I will be taking on duties at the Enchanter’s Guild, and I will be seeing more of the city.” Cella raised her voice. “If all I wanted was to be at court, I would not have studied so hard to be a Master!”
Arto clenched and unclenched his fists, barely reining in his temper. “I will arrange for an escort for you,” he said evenly. “There are a number of guards and new Knights around the castle and it is part of their duties. You will have to do your part and let us know where and when you are going. As your guardian on this visit, I must ensure your safety. Is that agreeable?”
There was a pause. Cella looked almost…hurt. That was confusing.
“Yes,” she said. “I forget that I am your responsibility.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” She sighed, and sat down again, turning away from him. “I will have to go to the Guild tomorrow morning. Can you arrange that? Or will you tell me how to do so? Then I can be less of a burden to you.”
How had he become mired in this quicksand?
The anger in him left abruptly, doused by her hurt.
“You’re not a burden, Cella. In fact, you are quite the opposite. You have added a richness to my life that I love. How could I not wish to protect you?” he asked gently.
“Please, show me how to arrange this guard. I will abide by your wishes.” Her voice was still low and she still faced away from him.
“I will arrange it, but speak to me. Tell me what makes you so sad.” He placed his hand on her back.
“Nothing.” She took a deep breath and smiled at him. But her smile didn’t shine out of every pore. “All is well, there is no need to worry or fuss about me.”
“It’s late. Come to bed with me, and I’ll show you where to go and arrange a guard for you in the morning.”
He pulled her into his bedroom and made slow, sweet love to her. He allowed himself to drown in the sensations of her skin against his, her scent in his nose and her taste on his lips.
No bondage or games, just a lengthy worship of her body, bringing her to climax several times before allowing her to drift off to sleep.
Morning came soon enough, and Arto sent Cella on her way with her new, permanent guard, Thede. Arto didn’t know the young man personally, but Douk had recommended him. Arto had made it clear that the man was to be her shadow and if he was not available for any reason, Arto, Douk, or the King were to be notified and another guard arranged.
Leaving Cella to go attend her business with the Enchanter’s Guild left Arto free to do some business of his own. He spent the day arranging for his horses to be sent on to Bridgend, his Knights to stay or go as they chose, and writing up letters of instructions for his second at Bridgend.
He planned to stay at Kerfaen Keep for at least another month. Long enough to see the New Year in with Cella. Hopefully long enough to convince her to go to Bridgend with him. He knew she should spend time with Falk and his lovely Countess in Cordigan. There she would meet many of Kerban’s innovators and artists, and likely have a wonderful time, but he wanted her to himself first. Maybe she could go in the summer.
Taking her to Bridgend was probably foolhardy. Arto reflected that it was good she was leaving in a year as surely he would be tired of her well before then. Yet, part of him knew it would wound him to lose her.
Today, he could acknowledge both. Yes, he would tire of her in a year, and he would be sad to see her go.
But what really was his other option—marriage?
I don’t think so, he thought.
* * * *
Cella looked up at the entrance to the Lithalla. The complex that housed the headquarters of the Enchanter’s Guild in Kerban was on an estate at the northwestern edge of the city. The grounds were expansive. They had to be to house the Head of the Guild in Kerban, the students, teachers, and work areas.
It was a beautiful setting and the buildings were made out of dark gray slate. The architecture was similar but not completely uniform and not ostentatious. Cella could see groups of students exiting what she presumed to be their quarters and heading to classes or work.
She made her way to the main office and was quickly admitted to see the Head of the Guild, Lord Rigen.
Lord Rigen was a tall, thin man with graying hair cut short. He had lively green eyes arched with hairy brows. His mouth was framed with deep creases that spoke of laughter. He wore plain dark blue trousers with a dark blue tunic. A red sash affixed with his Master’s pin crossed his chest.
“I’m delighted to meet you, Lady Cella,” he greeted her warmly after settling her in a chair with a cup of coffee. “I’ve heard a great deal of positive things about you from your Guild Master in Jorval.”
“Thank you, Lord Rigen. I hope to be of service here in Kerfaen. I would appreciate being able to work on some of my own projects as well.”
Cella’s guild master in Jorval had spoken highly of Lord Rigen. Meeting him, Cella had a good feeling about the man.
“Yes, we actually have a great need for you. One of our masters is currently away. His mother is gravely ill and he has gone to see to her care. Would you be able to help with some teaching as well as your own projects?” Lord Rigen leaned forward, his elbows on his desk.
“I would be happy to. I suspect I will have some commitments at the Keep as well, but I don’t know what they are as yet.”
“Of course! I have no illusions that we can compete with His Majesty for all of your time.” The laugh lines on Rigen’s face deepened. “I am pleased to have a Master of your calibre here. May I show you the Lithalla?”
Cella’s first day at the Lithalla was busy, but she found it wonderful to be back in a familiar environment. After her tour, she was given her own workshop, a begin
ner’s class to teach in the late morning three days of the week, and a few supervisory duties in the common workroom for the junior knaves.
She ended her day a little early and rode with Thede back to the Keep. As they left the Lithalla, Dochir was riding down the road.
“Good afternoon, Emissary,” called Cella politely.
Thede put himself between Cella and the giant horse the large man was riding.
“Peace, Thede,” said Cella. “Dochir is the Emissary for Srian. He means no harm.”
“Pardon, Lady, but he is not on the list of those I am allowed to have you near,” apologized Thede.
“It is all right.” Dochir halted his mount and did not come closer. “I understand His Grace’s caution. Accept my greetings and carry on. I will follow you, but I will not come close. Is this acceptable?” He directed the question to Thede.
Thede nodded, and Cella seethed all the way back to the Keep. There was a list of those she was allowed to speak to? Marta, sensing her rider’s irritation, was ill behaved. She chewed at her bit, her ears back, and sidled and danced all the way to the Keep.
Once they were back, Cella put aside her indignation and made her way to the armoury, Thede and Dochir trailing behind her.
She approached the smith that appeared to be responsible for some of the ornate decorations on the armour.
“May I have a word, Sir?” she asked loudly over the din in the forge area.
The man frowned and looked at her closely. He finally nodded and set his tools aside. He led Cella out of the forge and into the cooler air in the courtyard.
He wiped his brow with a heavily muscled forearm. “What can I do for you, Lady?”
“Thank you for speaking to me. I am Cella Vallant, a Master Enchantress. I am working on a project and I believe I have need of your skills.”
The armourer raised his eyebrow. “I am Ferg, Lady Cella. What do you have need of? If you require a dagger or ladies’ weapon, there are better choices to craft it than I.”
“Actually, I need a brooch in a specific pattern made of steel.”
Ferg rolled his eyes. “I am no jeweller, Lady. Find one in the city.”
“It is to hold a shield enchantment. Surely that is armour enough?”
“I don’t do jewellery.” He turned his back on her and walked away.
Cella gritted her teeth and wanted to howl. Why on earth was the man being so short-sighted?
“I could make it for you, Lady Cella.”
Cella gasped and turned to find Dochir across the courtyard. Thede was of course between them.
Thede addressed her while still facing Dochir. “My Lady, I must insist. His Grace—”
“Thede, there are at least a dozen of the King’s men within earshot if the Emissary decides to go on a bloody rampage. Can we at least speak?” Cella’s frustration with the armorer, and the list, bled out in her sharp address to Thede.
Thede’s lips thinned, but he nodded and stepped aside, his hand on the pommel of his sword.
“I am not the weapons maker that some of my countrymen are, Lady, but I may be able to make what you desire. Will you show it to me, at least?”
Cella nodded and took out her prototype. She held it in her hand and pointed out the features she needed. “Thank you, Emissary. There had to be eight of these loops and seven of the smaller ones, the smaller on top of the larger. I think they must be in steel to be strong enough to hold the enchantment. There has to be something in the centre, a jewel is nice, but I think enamel would do.”
Dochir turned the item over and inspected it. The large broach looked small in his hand. “Yes, I can do this. Do you trust me with this, or do you have a drawing I can use?”
Cella extracted a paper from the pouch at her waist.
“I will ask for permission from the head armorer to use a forge. I can have at least one done in a day or two. Is that soon enough? Or do you need more?”
“If you could do one to start, that would be wonderful. After that I may need several, but I’ll need to find out if steel works before I commission more. What would you charge for something like this?”
“I will make, say, six of these, with either enamel or a non-precious jewel in the centre, if you will give me one of the completed shields. How does that sound?”
“You are gambling that I can make this work. What if I can’t?”
“I think I’m willing to take that bet. I would lose very little, really. I enjoy working the forge, especially for something different than weapons.” Dochir gave her a friendly smile.
“Very well, I agree.” Cella held out her hand, shaking Dochir’s to seal the agreement.
“What’s all this?”
Cella’s head whipped around to see Arto striding across the courtyard.
“What a surprise!” she exclaimed.
“Your Grace—” Thede started, but stopped as Arto held up his hand and nodded politely at him.
“I see. What have you and the Emissary agreed upon?” he asked genially.
“I will make steel brooches for Lady Cella to enchant, in exchange for one if she gets them to work,” Dochir replied.
“Ah, I’m glad you found someone to help you. And I’m sorry, Thede, I should have said that Lady Cella could speak to Emissary Dochir without you having to go on high alert. Other emissaries may be a different story however.”
Thede nodded and relaxed. He stepped back a little.
“The Lady Cella did not find anyone receptive to helping her in the armoury. I believe they are quite busy with other projects. As I have time on my hands, I am happy to spend some of it at a forge,” Dochir summed up their recent activity.
Cella wasn’t sure how she felt. She was happy to see Arto, but still had the unease that she was a burden forced upon him slithering through her. She placed a smile of her face. “It’s been a while since I worked on it properly. I look forward to seeing if the steel is strong enough.”
Arto linked their arms together and gestured to Dochir. He started to walk them toward the wings of the castle that housed the guests. “Then I take it things went well at the Lithalla today?”
“Very well. Emissary Dochir was passing by as we were leaving. How was your day?”
They discussed the business of the day between the three of them as they strolled to their suites. Dochir had been exploring the city, apparently. The port had fascinated him, having lived deep in the mountains all his life.
They broke apart closer to their own rooms. Thede was dismissed for the day. Cella was pleasantly tired and settled in front of the fire after she discarded her cloak, the list forgotten.
Kyna handed Cella a cup of coffee. Arto settled beside her with a brandy.
“We should dine in the main hall tonight. It won’t be so grand as your welcoming banquet, but most of the nobility will be there. It’s not terribly common for most to dine in their suites.”
“Of course, whatever is appropriate.”
“I am finding it quite delightful to come back here to such a lovely companion.” Arto put his arm around Cella’s shoulders and pulled her toward him. “I enjoy talking to you about your day and I like that you ask of mine.”
Cella shivered as he lightly kissed the base of her neck. She could smell the brandy on his warm breath.
God and Goddess, she loved this intimacy and his friendship. Was it only because he was ordered to do it? Or was there some feeling there?
There must be at least a little something. Surely he couldn’t completely fake the ease and pleasure between the two of them.
She would remember that she was his responsibility, not his choice.
It would make it easier when she left.
Chapter 15
The days passed in relative peace, and yet Arto was frustrated.
He breakfasted with Cella each day and sent her off to the Lithalla. She seemed to enjoy her duties, speaking happily of her teaching and progress with her shield each evening.
He was immersed in w
orking with King Graydon helping his sovereign with the day-to-day running of the kingdom. It freed Graydon to enjoy a little more leisure time and they spoke of a visit to Bridgend in the spring. There were a number of places to enjoy fishing and they would likely hunt as well.
He also investigated as much as he could, how Cella’s billet straps both broke at the same time. The broken tack was found and Arto could sense no kerfios involved. There also didn’t seem to be any knife marks. It, too, was frustrating.
Arto was also a little…interested in how often Dochir seemed to “happen upon” Cella. True, he was making the brooches for her, but there seemed to be a little more interest on Dochir’s part than just crafting metal. He would happen to be heading back to the Keep when Cella left the Lithalla with her guard. He would encounter them if they went to the common area to socialize.
In the evenings when they ate in the main hall, he often sat with them. They were joined by Lord Vigo, Lady Lyr, and Lady Valina frequently as well. At those times, Dochir seemed most attentive to Valina, leaving Cella to Arto.
It was confusing.
Arto wanted to know what Dochir’s plans were and how they included Cella and Valina.
He was not privy to the brief conversation that Graydon had with the emissary. The only thing Graydon told him was that the Srian were not threatening Kerban in any way.
Were they threatening Jorval? Was that why the interest in Cella?
The Torquin emissary was even more frustrating. He would not agree to banish Armad to Brinar or Hermios. Nor had he entirely disagreed. Nor had he given any acknowledgement that he had written to the Emperor or not regarding the idea.
Speaking with him gave Arto a headache that he wanted to make go away by dropping Shand Mogren off the castle wall, cliff-side.
Mogren delayed and delayed. Arto supposed that was his duty, yet he found it dishonourable and distasteful.
Arto preferred tangible solutions.
Hence his frustration.
His time with Cella was somewhat puzzling as well. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed living with her. He liked waking with her snuggled against him.
