tales of the latter kingdom 08 - moon dance (15 page)

Indeed, they seemed to have impressed the countess, for she said to my aunt, “You do have very fine gardens here, do you not?”

I was too far away to see if Aunt Lyselle blushed, but she did give an airy wave of one hand and replied, “Oh, well, they have been here for many years, having been laid out by the late baroness. I only had to make sure that they continued to flourish.”

“It seems that all things flourish here,” said the countess, her clear blue eyes taking in the complement of young women sitting at the table. She was one who could be called more elegant than beautiful, with a long nose nearly identical to her son’s, and the same thin, proud bones to her face. But her gaze was kindly enough. If anything, there was something almost pitying in it, as if she wondered how in the world my aunt and uncle would manage to marry off all those girls to anyone even remotely suitable.

Well, I knew they themselves had wondered the same thing on more than one occasion. And here I was, stealing away Lord Mayson and dashing their hopes for Carella. No, I would not take that burden on myself. I had done nothing to encourage him.

Except kiss him, but he had initiated that contact as well. I was sure if my cousin had been put in that same situation, she would have kissed him back soundly — and probably would have also made sure there were witnesses to the act, so he had no chance of making an escape.

My aunt smiled, but I thought I could detect a bit of strain in her expression. However, she deftly maneuvered the conversation to the countess’ journey here with her family and servitors, and said how lovely it was that they had arrived before there was any rain.

The discussion was mainly commonplaces after that, and so I only listened with half an ear as I ate my luncheon. From time to time I would look up from my plate and catch a smoldering stare sent by Lord Mayson in my direction, but of course he was sitting too far away to even attempt to engage me in conversation, so I was allowed to eat more or less in peace.

Afterward, my aunt took the earl and the countess, my uncle, and Adalynn and her betrothed away so they could inspect the site of the wedding ceremony, as well as the ball to be held afterward. I took advantage of the measured chaos to head back up to my room, since it seemed to be the only place where I was safe from being accosted by Mayson. He had glanced in my direction as I left, but I was too quick for him, and was already out the door while he was still excusing himself from the table.

Once in my room, I let out a relieved breath and prayed that Janessa would not come and make her escape here. But I thought not, for by doing so she might miss out on something interesting, and so she would most likely stay downstairs with the rest of the girls.

For myself, I was glad enough to retrieve one of my books and settle down on the bed with it. Rereading one of my favorite tales would pass the time until supper. I was also glad that dinner promised to be another quiet meal, much like the one which had just ended. It was tomorrow that the rest of the guests would arrive, and the peace of the castle shattered until two days hence, when Adalynn would ride forth with her new husband and we would all be able to settle back down into our regular routines.

At least, I prayed that was what would happen…just as I very much hoped that Mayson would forget the promise I had made him earlier that afternoon.

As I had thought, dinner passed without incident. The addition of the earl and countess and their son seemed to have a sobering effect on Lord Mayson, for he was very proper and correct, and spent far more time conversing with Carella and Janessa and Theranne than he did speaking to me. This attention was enough to make Carella’s cheeks flush and her eyes twinkle as she stood next to him.

I should have been relieved, except I was fairly certain that he did so only to avoid attracting any particular notice. He and Coryn, Adalynn’s betrothed, also seemed acquainted, and they spoke of getting together a hunting party in the autumn, once the season was upon us again.

All in all, it was quite an unexceptional evening, albeit one that did not pass swiftly enough for my taste. But at last it was time to go upstairs, although Janessa kept chattering away, saying what a gentleman she thought Lord Coryn was, and how she was certain Adalynn would be very happy. I supposed she would, if she would allow herself to be; while her betrothed was not the handsomest man in the room — that honor must go by default to Lord Mayson — still he seemed all amiability, and very much besotted with her. In general, I thought it must be easier to be in love with a man when he was already in love with you.

Except, of course, for my conundrum with Mayson. But I sensed something strange about the intensity of his regard, as if it had grown from some cause I could not quite identify. If he really was madly in love with me, why had that emotion blossomed into being only during the last few days? Surely there must be something more to his attraction than that, for we had been living under the same roof for nearly a month now.

Unfortunately, I could not deduce whence had come this sudden ardor, and so I had to push the problem away for now, and arrange a placid expression on my features, lest Janessa ask me what the matter was. It was hard enough to say good night to her in ordinary tones, and pretend to fall asleep without actually doing so.

By that evening, I was almost used to the ritual. Some time later, she sat up in bed, eyes blank and unfocused. And then she climbed out from under the covers, pulled on her slippers, and headed into the hallway.

I had prepared myself this time. As soon as I had determined she was asleep, I slipped out from under the covers, then went to the wardrobe and got out my oldest frock, the one the laundress had saved from my previous depredations, even though there were still some faint stains along the hem. I pulled the dress over my nightgown, as it only differed from my daytime chemises in the thickness of the fabric. Finally came my shoes, which I had stowed under the bed so they might be immediately to hand.

The other girls had already begun to descend the staircase by the time I emerged in the hallway, but no matter, since I knew exactly where they were going. Once more I trailed after them, and once more emerged into the cool night air and headed out toward the forest.

Even though I had managed to slip out without being noticed several times before, on this night I was more tense than usual, probably because we had so many new people sleeping under the castle’s roof. What if the spell used to keep them all slumbering and unawares lost its effect when it had to be cast on that many?

But no one stopped us. The castle slept under the nearly full moon, indifferent to the comings and goings of the young women who lived there.

The air was warmer tonight, the night breeze almost a caress against my cheek. As I followed Janessa and my cousins across the stream and then deeper into the forest, I listened carefully, but heard nothing, not the hooting of an owl, nor even the faint rustlings in the undergrowth that I’d come to associate with the movements of mice or chipmunks or other small denizens of the woodlands.

The clearing gleamed under the moon’s white orb. No sooner had the girls formed themselves into the usual circle than I caught a glint of silver, and Reynar stepped out from between the trees. His features reflected resignation, along with a certain weary amusement.

“My lady, if we keep meeting like this, I am sure people will begin to talk.”

I flashed a grin at him. “I would agree with you, sir, except that we have no observers to our conversations, unless you can count my cousins. But since they cannot recall the next morning what they have been up to, let alone what I have done, I cannot say that they would make the most reliable of witnesses.”

“I suppose you are right.” He pointed at a fallen log, over which he’d draped a light blanket of fine wool. “Would you care to sit?”

Well, this was an unexpected wrinkle. During our previous encounters, he had not shown much inclination to be hospitable. But perhaps he had determined that he was not going to succeed in keeping me away — or preventing me from asking questions — and so had decided he might as well be comfortable while we conversed.

So I sat down on the log, and he followed suit. Although he took care not to position himself too close to me, he was still near enough that I could see the glint of moonlight on his heavy pale hair, could tell that his doublet was made of linen. An intriguing fragrance clung to his clothing, one that reminded me of pine needles and warm moss.

Indeed, to sit this close was to send a little thrill through my body, although I told myself that he clearly had no intentions toward me, other than talking as we had the night before. But that would be enough…at least for now.

“Adalynn will be married the day after tomorrow,” I said.

“I know,” Reynar returned. “And my master has already planned for that contingency. He does not seem overly troubled.”

“Are you going to tell me now what this spell is for?”

“No,” he said, but his tone was so mild that I could hardly take offense. “That is my master’s business, and none of yours, Lady Iselda.”

“I’m not Lady Iselda,” I pointed out then. “I’m no one much of anything, actually.”

His brows — which were as dark as his lashes, startling against the pale hair and eyes — pulled together. “I would beg to differ. Perhaps you were not born of titled parents as your cousins were, but that does not diminish you in any way.”

A flush rose in my cheeks, and I took in a breath. I could not let him see how that simple compliment had affected me. “Perhaps,” I allowed. “But still, please just call me Iselda. Surely we are friends now, after sharing confidences these past few nights?”

“If you wish…Iselda.” He seemed to linger on my name, and again I could feel a little thrill pass through me.

“I do wish,” I said. “And since you will not speak to me of your master, perhaps you will tell me something of yourself?”

A flash of surprise in his silvery eyes, as if he had not thought such a subject much worthy of note. “Myself?”

“Yes, you,” I replied. “Did you always know you were a mage? How did your master find you? Are your family like you — that is, with the same extraordinary hair and eyes?”

If the sudden darkening of his cheeks was any indication, I was not the only one who had been made to flush. Even so, he held up a hand, as if to prevent me from asking any more questions. “No, I did not always know I had mage blood. I began to notice strange things, like whispers and voices in my mind, when I was not quite ten years old. At first I thought I was going mad, but then not long afterward, my master found me, and explained that the voices were only my powers awakening.”

“How did he find you?” I asked, intrigued beyond all measure. These were the sorts of questions I would have liked to pose to Tobyn, my brother-in-law, but the secrecy required in my correspondence with my sister quite prevented me from making such queries.

“Mage-born can sense other mage-born,” Reynar said. “Or at least, if the blood is strong enough, then a user of magic can usually tell when he encounters another of his kind. There are many, my master says, who have some of the old blood running in their veins, but it is not strong enough that they are able to actually practice magic. All they can do is pass the talent on to their children, and perhaps one day those children will be true mage-born.”

His answer awakened so many questions in my mind that I was not quite sure where to start. But, as my sister had been wont to point out, when you are feeling muddled, it is always best to begin at the beginning. “The old blood? What is that?”

For a few seconds, he didn’t answer, but looked away from me so he might cast a watchful glance in the direction of the dancing women in the glade. But they moved in the same graceful formation, with only the night wind to ruffle their hair, and so he seemed satisfied as to their safety. “Once there was a race of beings known as the Althuri. No one knows precisely where they came from, only that they were not like us.”

“‘Not like us’?” I echoed, puzzled. “What on earth do you mean?”

“In form they were like men, only they also had great white wings. And their hair and eyes were like mine.”

“So you have this old blood?”

“Yes.” Reynar reached up to scratch at his left shoulder. “No wings, of course, but I fear I am quite conspicuous enough as I am.”

I did not bother to contradict him, for he spoke only the truth. That silvery hair would attract attention wherever he went. “Is the rest of your family like you? That is, do they share the same coloring?”

“As to that, I do not know. I was raised in the orphanage in Heathskell, for someone left me on the doorstep there when I was only a few days old. It was there that my master found me, and from there he took me. I supposed they were kind enough, or tried to be, but I believe the matrons there were frightened of me. More than once I caught them making the sign of the evil eye behind their backs when they thought I wasn’t looking.”

“I am sorry,” I murmured.

A casual lift of the shoulders, one that did not really fool me. “It is all right. But I’m sure you will believe me when I say that I had no regrets about leaving the orphanage and going with my master to be trained. It is no small thing, to be given a purpose.”

No, I supposed it wasn’t. Perhaps my own underlying discontent had everything to do with not really knowing what my place in the world was supposed to be. I had been given a home, but I did not know what direction my life should take.

Well, Lord Mayson thought he knew, but I was not quite ready to set my feet down that particular path. Especially not now, when I sat next to Reynar and listened to his low, musical voice and watched the moonlight glitter in the matching silver of his eyes.

Because I could see a shadow of pain in his face, and knew that he did not wish to speak of his own childhood, no matter how detached he might sound, I deemed it best to guide the conversation back to a topic that was not quite as fraught with pain. “What happened to the Althuri?”