“Garin, she’s been playing a long game, a cautious game,” said Mattie as she began to pace. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was the one who had freed Caligo. At the very least, something tells me she had a part in loosing that creature once again on the world.”
That idea shocked him. “That’s one hell of an accusation. Why do you believe that?”
“The timing and locations of the first Soul Stealers,” she stated as her fists clenched again. “I find one of those stones just as the curse on my mother was beginning to take its final toll and right after my brother was born? How likely was that, really?”
Annabelle Hawksthorne’s situation was news to him. “Cursed?”
Mattie nodded her head. “Someone made it so my mother could never have children again after I was born. They did too good a job because the damn spell killed her in the process!”
One of the teacups on the table swiftly became encased in ice and then exploded! Its sudden destruction caused Garin to do the opposite of what any sane person would do—he went over to his wife and gave her a fierce hug. She didn’t pull away, so he ran his hand over her hair, trying his damnedest to let her know he was there for her.
“And my brother’s curse came about because she knew that my father was going to announce the boy’s true status to the court,” she said with a growl, muffled because her head was still against his chest. “That’s one coincidence too many in my book!”
Garin admitted she had a point. “It definitely appears that she doesn’t like your family much.”
Mattie pulled herself back to arm’s length. Those eyes were nearly all silver now, filled with anger and confusion. “But why? Is it because the Hawksthorne bloodline produces the Protectors of Menapolin? Is it because we’re descended from Roland? Or did one of us just piss her off at some point? I don’t know!”
“It could be all three.”
That firm voice made Mattie jump a bit. Garin couldn’t say his father-in-law’s sudden appearance at the back door hadn’t surprised him as well. Though the man’s clothes were in a state of disarray, Lord Gregory stood tall and defiant.
“You really believe that?” asked Mattie as he closed the door and entered the house.
“I do,” the man said with a voice as hard as steel. Walking over to where the couple stood, his hand remained on the hilt of his sword. “But dealing with her could have unforeseen consequences if we remain blinded by our rage.”
Garin nodded his agreement to his father-in-law’s wisdom. “What do you purpose then?”
“We’ve all been pawns in someone else’s game for far too long,” he answered with a chilly smile. “I think it’s time we changed things up and bring a new stratagem to the table.”
Then Lord Gregory shared with them the scheme brewing in his mind. Garin shook his head because it was equal parts clever and insane. Mattie was the first to argue with the man that some of the aspects were too rigid and could shatter if they were hit with something unexpected. After all, Bridget has had decades to make her plans, most of which were still unknown. Once they found common ground and a little more flexibility, everyone agreed that the other players would only be told the truth before their help was needed. While there were plenty of small jobs to give out, the bulk of the plan rested within the hands of the married couple.
“But not until after Mattie’s Birthday,” insisted Garin. He wanted to celebrate that day with her and not worry about an army crashing down on their heads. “That’s all I ask.”
“And give us time to look over the damn treaty,” added Mattie with a nod. “Between finding answers and needing to make sure a magical sledgehammer won’t punish us for going after the queen, that has to be the first thing we do.”
“Agreed,” said Lord Gregory as he adjusted his clothes. “At this point, I will tell everyone that Dougal’s true identity is too perilous to disclose at this time.” He chuckled a bit. “That’s going to make Tobias determined to know the truth, which will work to our advantage. I wouldn’t want to be in Asger’s place right now for all the money in the world.”
Garin agreed with that as Mattie straightened her father’s collar. Looking less like a vagabond, Lord Gregory then headed out the front door in search of Leto and Tobias. The younger man was relieved that he didn’t have to hear the protests that were going to come out of those mouths.
“Thank you.”
Mattie’s quiet and sincere words furrowed Garin’s brow. “For what?”
She took a step closer to him. “For helping us with this.”
He shook his head and bopped her on the nose. “You’re my wife. Of course I’ll face uncertain doom for you. To Hell and back, remember?
Then Garin’s breath was taken away when she quickly wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him. He swiftly returned her passion and embraced her like the most precious thing he owned. There was no way he was ever going to let this woman go.
Not after he had already gone to Hell and back for her.
Chapter 13
Crosshawk was a busy town this morning with everyone taking advantage of the fact winter had not yet truly come. Donkeys brayed, horses neighed, and their owners were shouting various greetings to one another. After leaving Bran to his errand in the general store, Garin was wandering down the main thoroughfare of the King’s Road in the southerly direction the man had given him.
It still surprised Garin that the main crossroad was the only place where any commerce could be found in the duchy. Most cities and towns that had at least one successful business quickly found more of them spreading far beyond the point of origin. Not here though, so walking along the side of the road was an exercise in constantly trying not to bump into another pedestrian just by breathing wrong.
This place can be maddening, he thought as he watched two young boys elbow their way through the throng as they fled from the baker. The burly and flour-covered man was standing at his door, shaking a fist at them, and screaming he was going to speak to their mothers! The reason for his anger rather obvious because the giggling troublemakers were even now breaking in half the stolen loaf of fresh, steaming bread.
Though Garin nodded to many of the people he vaguely recognized, only about half didn’t give him the all-too-familiar glare. No one tried to avoid him by swiftly crossing to the other side of the road, which was a good sign—sadly enough. Well, except for those few men around his age who managed to walk close enough as they passed to sharply clip him with their shoulders! There had been no apologies for the seemingly accidental maneuvers, and Garin swallowed his growls because he knew they just wanted to rile him up while making their anger at him quite clear.
At last, and with a rather sore collarbone, Garin arrived at his destination. According to a grumbling Bran, the local carpenter who had created the new dining room furniture for Lord Gregory was one Tucker Zimmerman. Though one day soon he was going to need the man’s services in that vein for at least a crib, stories abounded about how talented a woodcarver he was as well. A portion of his shop offered his creations for purchase, and Garin desperately hoped he could find the impossible—a birthday gift for Mattie.
A deep gong from a bell sounded out when he opened the door to the shop. Sawdust floated in the morning’s light from the windows, and the smell of freshly cut wood permeated the structure. From the outside, the building had been just half the size of the Pheasant. The inside surprised Garin at first because the place where business transactions were done took up perhaps an enclosed third of that. The rest of the work obviously occurred beyond the large door directly across from the entryway.
“Be there in a moment!” called a husky male voice from the back.
Garin’s eyes quickly fell on a collection of carvings. “Take your time!” he answered as he wandered over to browse the selection.
While the sound of a pounding hammer was barely contained by the nearby wall, he soon felt nothing but awe at the artistic work before him. This Tucker Zimmerman had
a rare talent for carving animals, capturing the spirit of each one in a fashion that the wooden figures seemed alive. If the man ever decided to set up shop in Nova Forte, he could leave the menial task of carpentry far behind him!
Amongst the tan and mahogany menagerie, Garin’s eyes finally landed on something he thought would be perfect! Not many would have dared try to create a piece like this because of the history behind the royal families, but this artist was obviously a courageous man. Quiet seemed to respectfully fall as he reached out and picked up the carving. Then he held it aloft and started to inspect it more closely.
His smile widened. There was a hawk in a pine tree staring down at a wolf whose front paws were on a small boulder while it was looking back up at the raptor. Details of the feathers and the fur were exquisite, and it seemed as if the two animals were trying to breach the gap between them so they could become friends.
Heavy footsteps soon came into the room. Garin turned to watch a muscular man in the process of wiping his hands off on a towel, though he was younger than expected for one whose skills were so highly praised. There was a frown on the thirty-year-old’s face as he finished and threw the cloth over his shoulder. Strands of brown hair fell to the side as the man tilted his head to inspect his customer.
“I consider that to be one of my finest pieces,” he said with pride in those green eyes of his.
Garin smiled when he said, “It is extraordinary craftsmanship.”
“Why, thank you,” said the man kindly as he balled up his hands into fists and placed them on his hips. No tension entered his muscles, so it must have just been the way he preferred to stand. “Hopefully that will help you understand why I could not in good conscious let it go for less than two hundred and fifty gold coins.”
Garin nodded, grateful for the tone that meant a shopkeeper was open to haggling down a price. And while he had that amount and a little more in his money pouch, the majority of it was set aside for the seamstresses. For everyone’s sanity after her enraged tangent earlier this morning about becoming a fat hen, he had to have at least enough left for a down payment on keeping Mattie in comfortable clothing during her pregnancy.
With that in mind, he said, “While I can see why you would feel that way about this creation, many would consider it to also be a most controversial piece to own. Obviously, the potential risk could make other customers reluctant to even purchase it. In light of that possibility, I’ll offer twenty-five gold instead.”
The woodcarver grinned, as if he suddenly found the prospect of negotiation enjoyable. “That would be far below what I am willing to accept. Besides, the risk would only lower the price by a slight margin. Let’s say, one hundred and seventy-five gold then, to mitigate the unknowable costs.”
“Having seen the finished work of many talented craftsman like yourself, that still seems more expensive than usual to me,” said Garin, thinking he could live with the amount Tucker was truly wanting for this piece. Though he could have just blurted out the number, he knew the seller often felt better if he or she was the one to win the back-and-forth. “For the obvious workmanship, I’m willing to raise my offer to sixty.”
“I admit that my talent is hidden in this corner of the world, but this is also my home. And while others might consider such a thing reason to cheat a man out of the energy he spent into creating such a piece, I shall firmly believe it will never be worth less than one hundred gold coin.”
Garin hummed a bit and made a slight production of studying the carving. Finally, he said, “In light of that argument, I agree one hundred is a fair price.”
Tucker then released a happy snort. “Are you getting that as a birthday present for Mattie, my lord? Because as invigorating as this has been, I have a feeling you would have paid more had I held firm. But since your marriage is what inspired that piece, we’ll call it seventy-five and done.”
Garin raised an eyebrow at the rare reduction of price. “Though news travels fast in these parts, I thank you.”
“It’s the least I could do, especially since I was there at the Pheasant when you stole that kiss,” snorted Tucker as he walked over and took the carving from him. “And because I know what it’s like to do something unforgivable to the one you love, the only thing I’m jealous about is how you found a way to get her to talk to you again.”
Following Tucker as he walked towards a small counter, Garin said, “Truthfully, I am not quite sure how I managed that. Though I am beyond grateful I did.”
“Now I know the others are wrong about you,” said Tucker with a smile as he found a large sheet of brown paper.
Garin waited until the man was distracted with wrapping up the purchase before extracting the coin from his purse. It seemed less rude not to make a huge production about his own personal wealth, even if such a thing were common knowledge. After counting out and placing the seventy-five pieces on the counter, he asked, “So what do the others say about me?”
Tucker shrugged. “Some think you are the worst thing that ever happened to her, that you somehow bewitched her—but most know that’s just jealousy talking. Too many had their sights on her for all the wrong reasons anyways, especially Melker Krause. But she saw through him eventually.” Then the man snorted and widely grinned before he added, “Let’s just say her response to your kiss was tame compared to what she did to him when his true motivations came to light.”
Garin’s brow furrowed at hearing that man’s name again. This Melker character could obviously make things even more difficult for him in Crosshawk. “Considering my head was slammed rather violently into a table,” he said with sigh at his foolish behavior that day. “I’m not sure I want to know what she did to the man.”
Tucker crossed his arms before resting them on the counter so he could lean forward and conspiratorially whisper, “Imagine her with a rather hefty stick instead of a sword, and you’ll most likely get close.”
“That’s a rather frightful image,” he said with a shudder, knowing just how much force she could bring down to bear with a blade. “I almost wish I had the time today to learn more about this Melker Krause.”
“If you ever get some,” said Tucker as he handed the package to Garin with one hand and scooped up the coins with the other. “Stop on by, and I’ll tell you the tale in full.”
While pleasantly surprised at the man’s candor, Garin couldn’t help but say, “Perhaps I shall. I must admit that I wasn’t expecting this transaction to go as well as it has. My past experiences in Crosshawk have been less than welcoming.”
Tucker gave him a tilted nod real quick as if in agreement. “Even in this duchy of misfits, my lord, there are a few outcasts. Though I am a self-made one because I’m guilty of a horrendous mistake, we have a tendency to be more open-minded than the rest. If it weren’t for my skills in making wood do what I wish, I doubt that I would still be in business. Unfortunately for fools like us, memories seldom fade in these parts and forgiveness is slow in coming—if at all.”
Chapter 14
After dropping off the precious package in the cart Bran had brought to town and had housed in the Pheasant’s stable yard, Garin quickly crossed the busy road so he could begin the most important business of the day. The shop didn’t look like much, he had to admit. It was basically a gray wooden box with yellowing awnings and windows; the only indication that it was a business at all was the fading sign with the drawing of a large sewing needle upon it. Yet within that simple structure was found the best seamstress team in the whole of Menapolin.
And he hoped they would still do business with him. The Trygonne sisters were a gruff pair, neither of whom had any qualms about growling at him when he had needed their services in the past. With the upheaval his marriage with Mattie had seemed to cause, he had no idea what to expect once he climbed the short stoop and entered their domain.
It certainly wasn’t the grumbled, “Oh good. You’re the one who came to take care of this matter. That raises your character up in my estimatio
n, young lord.” the second he opened the door.
“Thank you, dear lady…I think,” he said with confusion as he fully entered and shut out the world behind him.
Agnes Trygonne, the elder sister and the one who had commented on his character, chuckled at him before she lifted up a finished tunic and began inspecting it. The many wrinkles on her face, visible due to the fact she always wore a tied-up cloth to hold back her long white hair, often reminded him of the villainous old women depicted in the fairy tales. Luckily for him, she wasn’t evil—just as direct as an arrow heading straight for the bull’s eye.
The slightly younger and gray-haired woman sitting behind the second worktable made tsk-like noises at her sibling. She paused in sewing thread through a periwinkle-colored and delicate-looking fabric to scratch at the knitting needles she used to help keep her messy bun in place. Beatrice then smiled brightly at him and said, “What she meant to say was that we were hoping you would come see us this week. Henriella stopped by yesterday. I hope you don’t mind—but she gave us fair warning by sharing your happy news. Congratulations to both of you!”
Though she sounded sincere, Garin still had to close his eyes and take a deep, calming breath. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose when Agnes quipped, “Obviously, he does mind—despite the fact we would have known the truth by the end of this conversation anyways.”
“I mind because we wanted her pregnancy to be as discreet as possible for the moment,” said Garin, barely keeping the growl out of his voice. “And for a great number of reasons.”
“Don’t worry,” said Beatrice in a soothing tone. “Henriella only mentioned it to us because we’re related to the Brewers. Besides, we know when to keep things quiet. Otherwise, the whole duchy would’ve burnt this place down by now.”
Unraveled Homecoming Page 9
