“What is the name of your kingdom?” I asked him. I glanced over his shoulder and he gave me an acidic look. “Oh, I don’t expect you to answer now, but it might be gracious of you to inform me of the most basic information when eventually you find your tongue has loosened ... what are you doing?”
I slapped his hands away. He had taken my braid and had begun to unweave it. I snatched it away and quickly rewove the braid.
Were the Wittenbrand obsessed with hair? And birds? I tried to remember what I knew of them.
Most of the tales were meant to terrify. That, at least, seemed accurate enough. There were the tales of travelers who were lost in a winter storm. They may find that they had stumbled into the lands of the Wittenbrand and when they returned to us, they were not the same. They dreamed strange dreams and saw visions with startling accuracy. Some would be gone for twenty years and not age a day. Others would be gone a day and return to us elderly and withered.
There were the tales meant to convince us they were at the heart of every problem – every stolen pie, every woman with child while her husband was on a long journey, every illness sweeping through the town. All those things were laid at the feet of the Wittenbrand.
Though I couldn’t imagine Bluebeard stealing pies, I could imagine him poisoning them. My face flamed when I moved down my mental list. I shot him a dirty look over my shoulder and his smoldering gaze matched mine. No, I would not think of unexpected pregnancies. My cheeks were already hot enough.
He certainly didn’t look like he spread illness. He’d been fastidious about his cleanliness and he smelled so sharply of cedar that I thought he might keep sprigs in his pockets.
Every strange occurrence in our world was blamed on the Wittenbrand and every bit of magic came originally from them.
And yet.
My father had never seen one until now. And neither had his parents or their parents.
I knew nothing about him or his people.
The Wittenbrand had just been a story to me. Something to explain when things went bump in the night. Something to blame misfortune on. Something to curse when the crops failed, and the lambs were stillborn, and a man died without an heir.
I paused there and thought sadly for a moment about the man who had died without an heir just last night. The man who had died trying to protect me.
I sniffed back a tear, and a finger reached out and turned my chin until I was looking into a pair of very light blue eyes. They narrowed with a frown at my tear. I knew what he wanted to ask.
“You can hardly murder someone who sprang to my defense last night and then expect me not to mourn him. And you can hardly expect me to leave my family forever without shedding a tear.”
He glowered.
“Perhaps, when we stop tonight, you’ll deign to tell me where we are going and what you plan to do with me. I find it very hard to know how to feel about all of this when I do not know how I will be spending my days.”
He ignored me, releasing my chin and wrapping one of his arms around me to snug me close against his chest. I was about to object when he kicked the elk and it lurched forward, leaping like a deer over a fence, its antlers bobbing. And yet, the ride was perfectly smooth. I looked down to try to see the ground, but it was swallowed up in mist.
There would be no answers from my new husband. So. I would need to concentrate and investigate if I was going to find out the nature of what the Wittenbrand were or why they had ventured into the human world to get me.
Why did people go a long way to acquire an item? They did that for precious things. But if he’d done this fifteen times already, it hardly seemed that mortal brides were rare. I remembered a knight who had visited us telling of the cargo that came off a ship in Porthaven. He’d claimed to see pearls the size of my fist and eaten a creature with a hard red shell.
Eaten. I shivered. I hoped very much that I was not meant to be a delicacy.
He had my hair out of its braid again and he was running his fingers through it as if he was charmed by the length. This time, I let him be. If he was a cat obsessed with a strand of yarn, then at least he wasn’t a cat ripping the heads off sparrows.
The rest of the morning was spent in silence. I had nothing to say to my captor and he could not speak to me. It was hard to make conversation with someone who could not speak back, and I couldn’t discuss my hopes and dreams about a future that was more opaque to me than the mist.
I judged it to be close to noon when we landed somewhere. It worried me that it felt like landing. One moment, the elk was carrying me without a jostle or lurch and the next moment, the sound of thudding hooves met the earth, and I was jarred in the saddle. This entire journey seemed incredibly impractical and I wasn’t sure how to operate in a world that was so odd.
A large spreading tree was just ahead of us, ringed in grass. Two of my husband’s followers were already there and one was kindling a fire. I could only see a few strides in any direction, so wreathed were we in mist.
We slowed to a stop and Bluebeard dismounted, helping me down graciously. As the elk’s back was nearly half again as tall as me, it was still a rough landing.
“We need to move faster,” the man by the fire said. He was the one with scars around his mouth that made it look like he was grinning twice. “I’m getting an itch between my shoulders. The game will begin soon and on it rides the fate of this mortal world.”
“You should be nervous, Vireo. We did not plan to spend a full night in the mortal world,” Bluebeard said
“Then why do it at all?” Vireo grumbled. He was filling a kettle with water. “You shouldn’t have taken Wittenbrand vows with her or agreed to their Marriage Laws. Not only are you wasting time, but you’re also tying yourself like never before.”
His mouth shut with a snap as another one of the Wittenbrand arrived, pulling food from his pack as if it had been arranged ahead of time. His hair was longer than the others and pulled back into a knot at the back of his head. He grinned in a wicked way, almost leering when he came to me.
“Do you want to eat?” he asked, leaning against the tree as he offered me a small loaf of bread.
I did want to eat, but I didn’t trust this Wittenbrand.
“They call me Grosbeak,” he said, letting the name tumble over his lips like he was kissing it.
I looked away sharply. Had he no respect for Bluebeard? Or was my new husband not powerful enough to keep his men in check?
“You could call me that, too,” he pressed.
There was a growl from the fire and when I looked back, Grosbeak had his head bent low.
Bluebeard handed me a small mug of hot tea with a dark look on his face as if I had been the one to start that conversation.
“Speak to my riddle, Grosbeak,” he growled, his eyes never leaving mine. “What has one hand and one eye?”
Grosbeak laughed, as if the riddle didn’t bother him at all. “Me, if I push you too far. Is that what you want to hear, Arrow? I can be a good Wittenbrand. I just don’t have to like it.”
Arrow. So that was what his men called him, but that didn’t mean it was his name. I liked Bluebeard better.
I sipped the tea carefully, watching Bluebeard from the corner of my eye. His moods changed faster than the weather – faster than my brothers’ moods when they’d first begun to grow beards. And last night he’d killed poor Leonid. He could shake me to death just as easily. I needed to be very, very careful about what I did next.
“We must move more quickly after we eat,” Bluebeard said, his voice more growl than the sound of a leader commanding troops. What manner of man was he? “The Sword will make every attempt to catch us while we are vulnerable.”
At that comment, Grosbeak side-eyed Bluebeard so briefly that I almost didn’t notice it. Did my husband see that? It put me on edge. Like the look you get from a town cur right before it bites.
“Is my husband a prince in your land?” I asked Vireo.
The woman at the fire snickered.
She’d been quiet until then.
“In a manner of speaking,” Vireo said. “Though he may wish otherwise. He is the Arrow of Wittenhame, Lord Riverbarrow, and a prince of Wittenhame, though not blood to the Bramble King. He flies to the heart at the order of his Sovereign – as we all must for the great game.”
He was a prince? And an arrow? And a lord? But he didn’t wish he was a prince, so I would avoid that part. It still made me feel a little dizzy. It was strange enough to be married to a foreign lord, but princes were dangerous. People wanted them dead.
“The Arrow?” I asked carefully. “That’s an odd designation. Is it like a knight?”
I didn’t want to infuriate my new husband. I wouldn’t mention the prince part.
“Not quite,” Vireo said, considering. “Close, but a little more significant than that. He is lightning rod and blade, both.” At my confused look, he rolled his eyes at Bluebeard and then sighed and turned back to me, addressing me as you might address a particularly annoying child. “There are several named roles in the Wittenhame. Your husband is the Arrow. Your task should be to meet them all and figure out what they do without troubling me to explain it.”
“Do you think it’s unlikely that I will?” I asked. His tone had suggested it was an impossible task.
“The Arrow has had fifteen wives. You are only the most recent. None of them has lived long enough to complete that task.”
A chill came over me. I knew I was in danger with this husband and his strange, barbaric followers, but I had expected I would at least survive – however miserably. I had assumed too much.
“Did he kill them? The other wives?” I tried to keep my tone bold instead of terrified.
“All but the one just before you. She died by her own hand.”
“Did she have a name?” I asked.
He shrugged as if he didn’t care. Around us, the sound of the others eating was all I could hear. They were watching us intently as if our conversation was entertaining.
“How long ago?”
“Six months ago.”
I gasped. “So soon?”
“There is a toll you pay for being married to the Arrow. A price for marrying him. It is possible that the price will be too steep for you to complete even that small task. It’s possible it will be too steep for you to see tomorrow.”
He didn’t sound particularly concerned about that.
I shivered in horror. Six months since his last wife died and he was already married to me. And his friends – if that was who these were – thought nothing of the fact that I might not survive through the night.
I glanced over at Bluebeard, but he did not seem to be paying attention. He was jingling the little golden bell for a yellow bird, drawing it ever closer as it fell slowly under his enchantment until it crept right up and sat in his hand. He closed his fingers around it so suddenly that I flinched. And then opened his hand and the bird flew away.
“He certainly seems keen on marriage,” I said lightly. “And what is my role as his wife? Am I to be some kind of Arrow?”
That earned me a harsh laugh from the whole party. I noticed that Bluebeard did not laugh. Instead, he looked longingly after the bird as if he wished he could fly away with it.
“You, an Arrow? I think not,” the woman Wittenbrand said. “The Arrow is our Backwards Man. While everyone is moving forward, he is walking backward and that is how he can see the future – because he’s facing it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“What does?” she asked with a wink.
“And what of the rest of you? Are you his court?”
They all laughed at that and she answered me. “We’re bound to him by blood and oath – like your sworn arms men but deeper than that – and he’ll spill our blood if we falter. We do his bidding and kill by his word. Does that make us his court? I suppose it does. His Court of Fools.”
I swallowed, wondering at that. He was like a prince. And these were like his knights. But none of them acted like that at all.
“Leave off, Sparrow. We need to get moving,” Bluebeard said, throwing the water from the kettle over the fire. It hissed as if it were a living thing being smothered.
He was tending to his mount when the first arrow flew through the air, landing in the moss beside the fire.
“To horse!” he cried, and I was thrown to the back of the elk before I could gasp. It stamped its blue foot and sprang into the mist at almost the same moment that Bluebeard hugged me to his chest. It was almost as if he was huddled around me to protect me from the arrows – but that was madness. What was one more wife when you’d had fifteen?
Chapter Ten
The arrows did not relent even though I couldn’t see our pursuers. They flew and flew until I wondered if they were magical in some way. Twice, our elk shrieked, stumbling to the side. Each time, we pierced the mist to where another of the Wittenbrand were riding and nearly collided with them.
I tried not to scream as I clenched my jaw tight and held on to the saddle with all my might.
Bluebeard cursed in his own tongue as an arrow sliced so close that it nicked the elk’s neck, leaving a thin streak of red blood.
My heart was in my throat and it made my chest ache every time I heard the sound of the arrows hitting trees or grass nearby.
Slowly, the arrows grew more sparse and then eventually stopped.
“I would like very much to know who is shooting at us,” I said as calmly as I could, but there was a tremor in my voice that betrayed me.
There was no response, of course. Perhaps, I would learn to be quiet, too. I shook my head wryly to myself at the thought. My father had hoped to find me someone who would be good company. I could almost guarantee that his choice would have been far, far better, even given the fact that all our conversation would have been of horses. I could have learned to enjoy that. I rather liked horses. Perhaps, in time, Leonid would have come to value my thoughts on the matter. But none of that mattered now.
I had a mute for a husband during the day and a villain by night. Perhaps we’d find our own things to discuss – but any discussion we had would be like mailing letters to play a game of merels.
We slowed after what felt like hours. My muscles were stiff from tensing at every turn and I was grateful when Bluebeard practically shoved me off the elk. The poor thing had two arrows in its flank, and he turned, ripping one out.
“I’m going to walk that way to – to relieve myself,” I said, pointing to a nearby patch of bushes, barely discernible in the fog.
He spun, frantic-eyed at the same moment that Grosbeak’s elk plunged from the mist to join us.
“A good ride, Arrow. It’s been long days since the Hunt chased me in the mists of memory, and here I am running beside the famed Arrow.” He paused, glancing from one of us to the other, realizing that neither of us was listening.
“I’ll only be a moment. It’s just that it’s getting urgent.” I felt my face heating. Still, Bluebeard stared at me with intense eyes, his hands holding that one bloody arrow.
“I’ll take her,” Grosbeak said, seeming to understand what I meant. “No Wittenbrand arrow will fell her while in my care.”
Bluebeard didn’t seem convinced, but I shook my head and stalked to the bushes. Some things just couldn’t be ignored forever. Even for very practical girls – maybe especially for very practical girls.
I found a well-sheltered spot between the bushes. When I’d finished, and I was tucking my cloak back around me I felt something in the pocket.
Odd. I hadn’t put anything in there. I fished it out and found a small fabric packet tied up in string. With care, I unfurled the packet and found a little round, dull mirror smaller than my palm with eyes stamped all around it and a thin letter. I jammed the mirror back in my pocket and opened the seal on the letter. It was written in a magnificent hand.
To Izolda Savataz of Northpeak,
Though your marriage to this foreign lord comes as a surprise to
all of us, it is our royal hope that you will choose to act as our eyes and ears in the Wittenhame. Were this a usual wedding of convenience, we would have had time to provide you with adequate tutelage as to what to observe and how to report it, but as this is all done in a great deal of haste, we can only send you this mirror and hope you can use your good sense to note what might interest us in the courts of our ancient neighbors.
The king wanted me to spy. I felt a chill at the thought. But the letter was not finished.
As you are your father’s daughter and therefore must be loyal as he is, we trust you will accept that this is your role without question, just as we will honor your father without questioning why you were the one chosen.
The threat there was fairly explicit – the implication that I had greeted Bluebeard on purpose, knowing what that would mean. I didn’t even think he believed that. It was just a courtly bargaining chip. And then the offer: spy, or we’ll blame your parents for your failure. I would have accepted that, but the King could have offered his own daughter – or even himself. After all, Bluebeard had not specified a young woman must be the one to offer the greeting. Perhaps the fat king could have been the one riding an elk nestled in the lap of my dear husband. I had to suppress a snicker at that image in my mind.
This mirror is the only way we have of contacting you, but its magic is weak. Be ready with it on midsummer night.
Midsummer? That was six moons from now! Was he mad?
And then it was signed with the King’s royal signature.
I was not fool enough to keep the letter. I buried it with the waste. But I kept the mirror. I had a decision to make about whether I would use it. Under normal circumstances, I would be insulted at the suggestion that I would spy on any husband of mine. But this husband had murdered a good man in cold blood last night. It was hard to weigh whether it was he or the King who best deserved my loyalty now. And, of course, there was the threat to my family.
Fly with the Arrow: A Bluebeard Inspired Fantasy (Bluebeard's Secret Book 1) Page 7