Crystal Moon

by Elysa Hendricks

  around. Betha’s small area sat like an island of calm in a raging

  storm.

  Sianna considered the situation for a minute, then said,

  “Betha, I think you should take charge of the kitchen.”

  Surprise flickered across the woman’s face. “I don’t know.

  I’ve only been here a short time. Would people listen to me?”

  “They already come to you. You’re a marvelous cook.

  Someone needs to take control. Look at the waste and filth.

  It’s no wonder people are ill with stomach complaints. With

  your skills, you can easily prevent the problem.”

  A thoughtful expression on her face, Betha looked around.

  “Perhaps you’re right. But will Rul Cathor allow it?”

  “Don’t worry about the Rul, just make this kitchen yours.

  When he eats your cooking rather than burnt offerings, he’ll

  not complain.” At least Sianna hoped he wouldn’t. Where Kyne

  was concerned she wasn’t sure of anything.

  FIVE

  That afternoon Sianna pushed aside her growing fatigue to

  work with Betha and several other women clearing and cleaning

  the kitchen. Warda followed, at her side yet never underfoot—

  a silent shadow, guard, companion. After watching her for a

  short time, people started to gather around her to seek instruction

  and guidance. Soon their efforts spilled out into the great hall.

  Bit by bit, order banished chaos. Laughter and good spirits

  infected everyone as they worked.

  From a quiet corner of the hall Kyne conducted a meeting,

  but she felt his gaze following her as she moved around offering

  advice and a helping hand where needed. He said nothing when

  she gave orders to the men and boys to sweep the stone floors

  and had them lay sweet-smelling, fresh grasses. Nor did he

  object as she directed the scrubbing of the hall’s massive hearth

  or when she exiled the hounds to the courtyard.

  What did he think of her efforts? Though in truth she was

  his prisoner, he granted her more liberty than she’d ever known.

  After the strict regime of the valetudinarian and her father’s

  even harsher rule, this taste of freedom, though false, was heady

  indeed.

  Why did he let her mingle with his people? Let them come

  to know her? Allow her to guide and direct them? His steady

  gaze made her anxious and filled her with a longing for something

  she couldn’t name.

  Graham’s hand on her shoulder startled her, and she dropped

  the rag she was using to scrub the last long trestle table.

  “Stop now,” he said. “Sit and eat last meal with the others.”

  “There is still much to do. I’ll eat later.” Sianna snatched

  up the rag and took another swipe at a stubborn stain. Only

  hard work took her mind from thoughts of her father’s crimes

  and questions about her fate at the hands of his enemies. The

  mouthwatering smell of Betha’s cooking filled the great hall,

  replacing the previous rank odors. The loud gurgle from Sianna’s

  stomach made her blush and remember her lessons from the

  Sisters. A lady should never reveal bodily functions.

  Graham chuckled, took the rag from her fingers, and pushed

  her down onto the bench. “You’ve done enough for one day.”

  “But I....” Sianna protested.

  “Dravid,” he called to a passing lad. “Fetch the Lady Sianna

  a plate and bring me one as well.”

  “You are a kind man.” His gruff consideration for one he

  thought of as an enemy touched her. Though he didn’t yet trust

  her, his doubts about her guilt eased some of her pain.

  A hint of color stained his cheeks. “Not kind, merely hungry.

  And I dislike eating alone.”

  She refrained from pointing out the many others he could

  choose to dine with. From across the room she could feel

  Katya’s hostile glare. “I wish Kyne could look beyond my birth

  as well, and see me for who I am.” The wistful words slipped

  out before she could prevent them.

  “And just who are you?”

  Without betraying Laila, she couldn’t answer Graham’s

  pointed question. She ducked her head.

  “May I join you for last meal?”

  Her gaze flew up to meet Kyne’s. Hard and cold like a

  winter wind, his gaze pierced her. His stare drove the warmth

  of accomplishment from her. Could she do nothing to please

  him? His unjustified anger stirred her own, and her tongue acted

  without her permission. “Why would you wish to eat with me?

  How can you bear to be near me? I am my father’s daughter.”

  Immediately, she regretted her outburst and vowed not to let

  him bait her again.

  Kyne’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened, but Sianna

  couldn’t tell if her outburst had angered or hurt him. Nor, she

  decided, did she care. His feelings were not her concern, and

  she’d already survived his anger.

  Graham grabbed Kyne’s arm and pulled him down onto

  the bench. “Quit squabbling like discontented children. You spoil

  my appetite.”

  In the sudden silence, Dravid arrived with a tray carrying

  two plates heaped high with food, a pitcher of ale and two

  glasses. With a shy smile for Sianna he served them.

  “Thank you. Would you bring a plate for Rul Cathor as

  well?” she asked.

  The boy nodded and hurried off.

  “Dravid is besotted with you. They all jump to do your

  bidding.” Kyne sneered and waved his arm toward the others

  busy eating their meal. “Have you put a spell on them?”

  “No.” Spurred by his uncalled-for sarcasm, her tongue again

  slipped its leash. “I just treat them as I would like to be treated.

  It’s a lesson you might do well to learn.”

  Kyne’s sneer turned to snarl. “I need no lessons from the

  spawn of DiSan....”

  “Kyne,” Graham warned quietly, his gaze shooting to the

  people only a table away. “Sianna, if you and Kyne cannot

  control your tongues, I will be forced to abandon my food. Call

  a truce, at least through last meal.” His tone lightened. “I am

  hungry.”

  “It’s well known in the castle, you are always hungry,”

  Sianna teased, taking his lead to ease the rising tension. A big

  man, Graham had a hearty, non-discriminating appetite. Little

  prompted him to forego eating.

  At Graham’s heartfelt plea, a grin softened the stiff line of

  Kyne’s mouth. He looked at Sianna, then stretched out his left

  hand palm up, fingers slightly spread, the traditional male to

  female gesture of acceptance. “Truce?”

  With what lay between them was a truce possible? How

  long could it last?

  “Truce,” she repeated and placed her hand over his. Lying

  in his strong, calloused palm, her fingers looked pale and fragile,

  like her life. Briefly, his fingers closed over hers, sending a

  shaft of warmth through her, then opened again. She snatched

  her hand away and buried it in her lap. By giving her right hand

  into his left, she accepted his dominance, and he offered her his

  protection. The irony was not lost o
n either of them. Only

  Graham seemed oblivious to the farce as he dug into his meal.

  With Kyne’s gaze resting on her, at first the food tasted like

  ashes in Sianna’s mouth, but to rebuild her strength she forced

  herself to eat. As her taste buds woke up, his hostility was

  forgotten and her anger and confusion evaporated under the

  spicy aroma of Betha’s stew and the fragrant smell of fresh

  baked bread. She barely restrained herself from gulping the

  delicious food. While plentiful, food at the valetudinarian was

  plain and bland to accommodate the sensitive palates of the

  elderly sisters and their patients. Those with a taste for more

  variety usually did without.

  “Would you have some more, milady?”

  She looked up to find Betha standing at her elbow with a

  serving bowl in her hands.

  “Yes, please.” Sianna held up her empty plate. The good

  Sisters had often teased her about her overly healthy appetite.

  They would exclaim and wonder where such a small person

  put such large helpings of food.

  Betha gave her a smug smile, and three pairs of eyes

  focused on Sianna’s flat belly. At this reminder of her situation,

  her stomach heaved and appetite fled.

  They believed she ate for two. What would happen when

  time revealed her lie?

  “Sianna! Father!” Zoa’s excited squeal drew Kyne’s

  attention from Sianna’s suddenly pale face. He turned to see

  the child race across the hall and skid to a stop next to Sianna.

  “See my new dress?” She twirled around, sending the her full

  skirt flying. “Grenna made it for me. Isn’t it pretty?”

  Without taking a breath, Zoa launched, into a long detailed

  description of the dressmaking process. While Sianna listened

  attentively to the child’s chatter, Kyne frowned. A moment

  passed before he realized what puzzled him about Zoa.

  Small and thin for her age, Zoa rarely finished a sentence

  without coughing, yet throughout her recitation she hadn’t

  missed a breath. Her dark eyes sparkled, and her once too-

  pale, taut skin glowed with a soft, rosy color. She looked, if not

  healthy, at least not ill. Kyne hesitated to hope Althea’s diagnosis

  was wrong.

  “It’s a lovely dress,” Sianna said. “Grenna is a talented

  seamstress, and you’re a fortunate young lady.”

  The fatigue in Sianna’s voice bothered Kyne. Why? He

  should be pleased to see her brought low. To see the defiance

  drained from her, as the life had drained from Aubin.

  All day he had watched as she, without being asked or

  commanded, went about the castle and brought order from

  chaos. In a few hours she had not only cleared away the dirt

  and grime of years of neglect, but the whole atmosphere had

  changed. People moved about with firmer steps. They hummed

  under their breath, and smiles hovered around their lips.

  “It’s as if she’s bewitched them.”

  Though Graham teased, Kyne could hear a note of awe in

  Graham’s whisper. “Other than a good example, I doubt she

  casts any spells.” Kyne glared at his friend. Though many of

  the common folk still believed in the old tales of witches and

  magic, Kyne gave little credence to superstitious nonsense.

  Whatever chore Sianna deemed necessary, she pitched in and

  did along with the others.

  Wheezing, the grandmotherly Grenna caught up with her

  charge. “Have a care, Zoa. You’ll lose your breath again, as

  I’ve lost mine trying to keep up with the likes of you.” She

  rested one palm over her ample bosom and fanned herself with

  her other hand. “Quit pestering the Rul. It’s time for little girls

  to be abed.”

  “But I’m not tired,” Zoa protested. She climbed into

  Sianna’s lap, wrapped her arms around her waist, and pouted.

  A ragged cough shook her body. At that small sound, Kyne’s

  hopes faded.

  Sianna’s arm curled protectively around the little girl. Her

  hand spread out over Zoa’s back, and she whispered something

  into the child’s ear. Around Sianna’s splayed fingers a warm,

  pinkish glow enveloped Zoa’s back. Kyne blinked, and the glow

  vanished. A mere trick of light?

  Zoa nodded and gave Sianna a tight hug.

  Grenna turned to Sianna. “Pardon, milady. A bath has been

  readied for you in Rul Cathor’s chamber, and I’ve found you

  some fresh clothing.”

  From the worn, grimy shirt and trousers Sianna wore,

  Grenna’s glare shifted to Kyne. Like a chastened child, his

  feeling of guilt over Sianna’s treatment increased.

  “A bath?”

  At her thankful disbelief, his guilt doubled.

  “Yes, milady. Later you can visit the bathing chambers, but

  after your long trip and tiring day, we, that is Betha and I, thought

  you might like the comfort and privacy of your chamber. Don’t

  dally now, or the water will grow cold.” Grenna held out her

  hand to Zoa. “Come now, poppet. To bed with you.”

  After giving Sianna another hug, Zoa bounced from her lap

  and skipped away alongside her nanny. Again, Zoa’s easy

  breathing and energy amazed Kyne.

  “Have you finished your meal?” Graham asked Sianna.

  “What?” Her blue eyes wide and wistful, she looked up,

  then back down at her empty plate. A blush spread over her

  cheeks. “Oh...yes....If you’ll excuse me.” She rose and hurried

  after Grenna and Zoa.

  Graham’s thick eyebrows lifted. Humor twinkled in his eyes

  as he asked, “Where do you think she puts it all?”

  Kyne barely heard Graham’s teasing question as he

  watched Sianna rush away. In minutes she would strip off the

  simple cotton shirt and wool trousers she wore and slide naked

  into steaming water. At the imagined image his mouth went

  dry. He jumped to his feet. The bench tipped over and clattered

  to the floor. Graham’s laughter followed him out of the hall into

  the night.

  Cool, moist air swirled around him, but didn’t douse the fire

  within.

  ***

  Kyne knew he should retire to his chamber, but the thought

  of Sianna in his bed, warm and damp from her bath, kept him

  standing in the chilly hall. Long after last meal, he stood at the

  top of the stairs and gazed down into the now quiet great hall.

  He shivered at the memory of the boy’s blade slicing above

  Sianna’s head. How close she’d come to death. Why didn’t the

  thought of her head separated from her body fill him with

  satisfaction, as it should? Even now, her foolish bravery made

  him go cold with dread.

  Though the big man made no sound, as usual, Kyne sensed

  Graham’s approach behind him.

  “Is it my imagination, or does the hall seem less chaotic

  since Sianna arrived?” Graham asked, his gaze directed at the

  makeshift infirmary. “It appears DiSanti’s daughter is truly a

  healer.”

  “Don’t speak of her identity, even when you think us alone.

  Do you wish her dead?”

  “Do you?�
�

  Did he? Unwilling or unable to answer, Kyne wasn’t sure

  which, he ignored Graham’s question and offered an explanation

  for order in the hall. “Perhaps the people are just subdued after

  this morning’s episode?”

  “Perhaps.” Graham merely restated the obvious. He, along

  with Kyne, had watched as she turned the castle upside down

  and set it to rights. Kyne’s gaze followed Graham’s to the left.

  Already the small infirmary area was organized, the patients

  resting comfortably on fresh bedding, pallets lined up, the floors

  cleared of bloody rags and mopped clean. Even Althea moved

  with more spring than Kyne had ever before seen, and he’d

  known the old healer all of his eight and twenty annum.

  “The people respond to her gentle touch and soft voice. Is

  she truly evil? Can anyone fool so many?”

  Graham’s questions struck too close to Kyne’s growing

  doubts. “Do you think she carries Aubin’s child?”

  Did she indeed carry his brother’s child? The idea left him

  angry and confused. Should he rejoice that a part of Aubin

  lived on, or rage that Cathor blood mingled with DiSanti venom?

  “Perhaps we get ahead of ourselves,” Kyne cautioned. “A

  good appetite and fatigue are not proof the woman is breeding.

  And if she is, what guarantee do we have the child is indeed

  Aubin’s?

  “If she is in league with her father in Aubin’s murder, if she

  wants the power marriage to Prince Timon will give her, why

  did she dally with Aubin? Allow herself to be caught? An

  experienced woman would know enough to prevent an

  unplanned pregnancy. The methods are simple enough. Does

  she fake these simple signs to delay her judgement?”

  “Do you seek to convince yourself of her innocence or of

  her guilt?” Graham asked.

  “Could I be wrong about her?” Kyne kept the more

  burdensome questions to himself. Could he spare her? Send

  her into exile rather than see her killed? The more time he

  spent in her company, the less he wanted to see her dead.

  Executing a woman, even one guilty of terrible crimes, was not

  something he felt easy with. “Zoa is thoroughly taken with her.

  Even Warda is now her devoted slave. I set him as her jailer,

  yet he acts more her guardian.”

  Kyne felt Graham’s unspoken compassion for his difficult