Gregor hunched forward over his bowl, but she sat straight-backed, bringing her fork carefully from plate to mouth. One thing I had discovered about being silent was that people tended to confide things in me—filling my silence with words of their own. And Vilma had admitted to me once how proud she was of her straight back. Not for vain reasons, though, or even physical comfort. No, instead she considered it a daily reminder of her husband’s love and care, and a sign to the world of how well he had provided for her.
“He worked hard every day of his life so that I wouldn’t have to be bent before my time—broken by too many days and nights hunched over unending labor or carrying heavy loads. He provided for his parents and mine, as well, you know—along with our two children. No one could ask for a better husband—you should find yourself one just like my Gregor, Lady.”
I always smiled and nodded, although I suspected Gregor’s breed were few and far between these days. Their own son had married a merchant’s daughter from another town and left without a backward glance. Their daughter seemed to have married a nice enough fellow based on Vilma’s comments about him, but they had married for love, not wealth, and couldn’t afford to take in her parents. I knew it grieved her, and she visited them as often as she could, bringing any excess she had to contribute to the haven’s supplies.
When all the food had been distributed, Vilma patted a seat beside her, inviting me over, and I went willingly enough.
“You seem sad today, Lady. Is it a young man?”
I grimaced. It was, of course, but not in the way she meant. She patted my knee.
“Not having a voice might present something of a problem, but he’d be a fool not to see your value,” she assured me.
I couldn’t help smiling back despite her mistaken assumption.
“And I know it’s not easy,” she continued. “Trust never really is. But it’s harder to come by in a place like this. Still necessary, though, you know.”
I frowned at her this time, my eyes asking the question my lips could not.
“I see it every day, you know,” she said. “Fear is more natural for most of us who have found our way here, but love can’t thrive in a garden of fear.”
I blinked at her, no longer sure what we were talking about.
“My water!” Gregor called abruptly, interrupting our rather confusing tête-à-tête. “Does anyone know where I set my water down?”
Vilma turned to him. “Did you ever have it to begin with?”
He frowned, thinking, and then let out a guffaw, striking his knee.
“Why, I don’t think I did. What a duffer I’ve become. It’s a wonder you ladies put up with me.”
I hurried over to a cabinet against one of the walls and removed a large clay jug. Several mugs sat beside it, and I took two, filling them both with clear, cool water. Treading carefully, I returned to the elderly couple and gave them each one. They drank with murmurs of enjoyment, remarking to each other on the superior and refreshing qualities of the water.
Vilma and Gregor had been forced to give up everything, leaving their life behind to move here when age and infirmity overtook them. But Gregor had insisted that the one thing he could not give up was the water of their home. His daughter, filled with contrition at not being able to take them in herself, had been more than happy to oblige, and every week she refilled the jug at least twice from the small, ancient well that sat just inside the forest behind their old house.
The new inhabitants didn’t use it, and I could hardly blame them. I had accepted a taste from Vilma once, and the water had a slightly unpleasant, musty flavor compared with the water drawn from the local river. But apparently after more than five decades in the home the two of them had become accustomed to it. It had often made me wonder what the water of my lake would taste like to someone else.
Gregor began to tell me the story of his discovery of the well. I had heard the tale at least five times, but I nodded and smiled and clapped as needed because I knew he loved to tell it. And I didn’t mind hearing it again. It was all wrapped up in the story of how he had built the house so he could propose and have somewhere to bring home his young bride.
As I listened, it hit me suddenly that they didn’t cling to the water because it reminded them of their old home and independence. They refused to let it go because for them it was the taste of love. Moisture filled my eyes. If I could summon up the warmth and love of my mother every time I took a sip of water, wouldn’t I hold onto that, too?
Gregor had just finished the sweet finale of the tale when a slight movement caught my eye. I looked toward the open door that led out to the hall. A newcomer had arrived and was watching us from across the room, his eyes fixed on me in particular.
I jumped to my feet, shocked enough to emit a loud squeak. A rustle ran through the residents as they looked from me to the prince. I rushed over to him, waving a quick farewell and giving no chance for any of them to start asking questions.
He was back already! I couldn’t quite grasp it. I had been preparing myself to wait days to hear anything further and here he was already.
I bustled him out of the room, shutting the door firmly on the interested spectators before giving him a piercing glare.
“It’s lovely to see you, too,” he said, a laugh in his voice.
“Well? What happened?” The words burst out of me, bugling senselessly down the hall. I clapped both hands over my mouth and glared at him again. He had caused me to forget and speak more words since his arrival than in the previous year.
His smile did not abate, an infuriating dimple appearing as it deepened. Whipping out a fresh piece of paper and a pen, he held them out to me.
With a sigh, I scribbled the words out. He leaned over to read them before clapping a hand to his heart.
“What, no words of concern for my welfare or relief at my safe escape? I’m wounded.”
I narrowed both eyes at him. I’d wound him indeed if he didn’t get on with the story.
“Come on,” he said instead. “I’ve got something to show you.”
He grabbed my hand and began to tug me down the corridor. His grip was strong and sure, his hand rough and callused in a way I hadn’t expected—although I shouldn’t have been surprised. Gabe might be an expert archer, but he was too impetuous to remember gloves half the time. Dominic and I had once heard Gabe’s instructor chiding him on it—I could still see my brother’s smirk.
How long had it been since someone held my hand like this? I couldn’t remember. I pulled it free, ignoring the way the warmth of his fingers seemed to linger.
All thoughts of hands, archery, and even our childhood, disappeared as I stepped through the door into the kitchen.
“LADY!” Audrey’s scream filled the silence where my own cry wanted to be.
I had barely absorbed that she was real and here before she bounded over and enclosed me in an embrace. I squeezed her back, tears springing to my eyes.
“Auntie Audrey!” Juniper tugged at her skirt, and my friend let me go abruptly, reaching down to swing her niece up high.
“You’re so big!” she said. “When did that happen?”
Juniper frowned at her. “You went away and left me.”
“Oh, precious, I’m sorry. I had to go.”
I winced, my eyes searching out Wren. I knew what Audrey meant, but her sister didn’t.
Ash must have departed sometime before Gabe and Audrey’s arrival, but Cora and Wren were both here. Wren’s eyes didn’t leave her sister, following her mercurial passage around the room as if she didn’t dare lose sight of her. Cora looked pleased but also thoughtful, her eyes flitting between each of the occupants of the room.
“It smells delicious in here,” Gabe said in a meek, plaintive voice that didn’t deceive me for a second.
Cora immediately offered him leftovers of the lunch, however, and Wren came forward to scoop up Juniper as Audrey laughed and declared her intention to serve both herself and the prince.
/> “I drove him at a shocking pace,” she said as she gathered two plates and cups. “I couldn’t wait to get home here to see you all.”
“An absolute slave driver,” Gabe assured us all with a solemn expression. “Not even a morsel of food was to be permitted.”
Audrey giggled as she served their meal and put her favorite herbal tea in a mug to steep. Wren wrinkled her nose at the smell of it—just as she always did—and it felt almost as if Audrey had never left and the last six months had never happened.
Audrey ordered Gabe to take a seat and pushed a plate toward him from the other side of the table.
“Audrey,” Wren hissed at her sister. “He’s the prince!”
“And thank goodness for that,” Audrey said, not bothering to keep her voice lowered as her sister’s had been. “I wish I could do as I liked and go where I pleased.”
Wren’s wry voice said, “You mean that’s not how you live your life?” at the same moment as Gabe said, “It’s not quite like that,” the laugh back in his voice.
I rolled my eyes at all of them, and leaned over Gabe, waving the piece of paper still clutched in my hand in front of his face. I didn’t bother holding it still so he could read the words—he already knew what it said. Audrey, however, leaned across the table and snatched it from me, absorbing the request for information. For a brief second our eyes met across the table, and I saw the first hint of seriousness beneath her bubbly, joy-filled energy. We had more to talk about than could be said in this room. And whether I liked it or not, Gabe was now a part of that conversation.
“It was a very short visit,” Cora said. “Don’t tell me our local lord turned away the crown prince?”
“Of course he did,” said Audrey, wrinkling up her nose in apparent distaste for Leander. “I don’t think he’s had a proper visitor there in his life.”
“Don’t tell me he has improper visitors,” Cora muttered.
Wren gave her a warning look, her eyes flicking to Juniper who was racing around the room, too excited to contain herself.
“You know what I mean—noble people, paying social visits,” Audrey said in a voice of exaggerated long-suffering. “Not people like you and me.”
I frowned. What commoner visitors had Leander been having at the Keep? None that I knew of. Or did Audrey just mean the servants who all lived there?
Gabe had begun eating, although his eyes kept track of the conversation. He struck me as half-amused and half-bemused by Audrey’s exuberance.
She came around the table, approaching Gabe from the other side and sliding onto the bench awfully close to him.
“Go on, Gabe,” she said. “Put Lady out of her misery and tell her what happened.”
She tore the hunk of bread she held in two, offering the slightly larger half to him. He took it with a warm smile—not seeming in the least offended by her casual treatment of him.
It was a point in his favor, so I wasn’t sure why it made my stomach clench uncomfortably. If anything, I should be feeling relief. My friend had returned—seemingly unharmed and in good spirits—and the prince was accepting her as if the two of them had the same long-standing friendship as both had with me. Not that I counted Gabe as a true friend—more like a childhood acquaintance.
As if he could read my uncomplimentary thoughts, the prince glanced my way. I met his eyes, gesturing toward the piece of paper that Audrey had discarded.
He flashed me his signature grin and finally began talking.
“When I announced my arrival and identity at the Keep’s gates, I was naturally invited inside,” he said. “Unfortunately, a number of the staff are laid low with a contagious illness, and Lord Leander couldn’t countenance any risk to my person.” Gabe stopped short of actually rolling his eyes, but I could hear it in his voice.
I glanced at Audrey, but she had her head down and was shoveling food into her mouth. Clearly she knew better than to contradict the official message in our present company.
“He sent me away with many apologies and promised that as soon as it was safe to do so, he would hold a party in my honor to welcome me to the region.”
“A party?” Astonishment laced Wren’s voice. “Who does he intend to invite? We’re a little isolated out here.”
“All of Brylee, I believe were his words,” Gabe said.
“All of Brylee?” This time it was Cora echoing him in surprise. “That would be a first.”
“Well, it’s also the first time a member of the royal family has visited the town,” Audrey said, finally chiming in.
I stared at her. Did she honestly find that a compelling reason for such odd behavior, or was she merely trying to keep Wren and Cora from asking too many questions?
“Who’s having a party?” Juniper piped up. “Am I invited?”
“Definitely not,” said Wren firmly. “Parties at castles aren’t for four-year-olds. You’ll stay here if such an occasion ever eventuates.”
“With me,” Cora said, smiling at the girl. “I’m sure it will be a very boring party with a great deal of talking, and I’d much rather be here with you.”
That seemed to satisfy Junie, and she began attempting to worm her way onto Audrey’s lap.
I had reluctantly seated myself on Gabe’s other side, and I now poked his shoulder. When he looked my way, I gestured questioningly toward Audrey.
“Ah yes,” he said. “Since the good proprietress here,” he paused to give a half-bow to Cora, “mentioned how much her sister was missing Audrey, I thought I would request that she accompany me back to the town so that she might spend time with her family. I don’t think Lord Leander could deny such a simple request after being forced to turn me away from his gates. It is merely fortunate that she was untouched by the illness rampaging through the Keep.”
I glared at him for his final quip. He should be taking his cue from Audrey and not inciting Wren and Cora into asking questions we didn’t want to answer. But it was just like him not to take the situation seriously. Had he truly just asked Leander to turn Audrey over? Even mentioned her family specifically?
Fear churned in my stomach, and anger made me long to jump to my feet and put distance between us. We had discussed how dangerous Leander was, and yet not only had he brought Audrey to his attention, he had extended it to her family and the haven as well. While I didn’t think Gabe would be purposely malicious, it had been heedless in the extreme. We weren’t all of us princes. One day Gabe would leave, returning to the capital, and Audrey, Wren, Cora, and everyone at the haven would remain, exposed to Leander’s ill will.
I thought I had escaped that sort of careless thinking—kings and princes who believed their kingdoms existed only to be bent to their own whims—but apparently it had chased me down even here. Or one of those princes had, anyway. I could only hope not too many people would pay the price when he was gone.
Part II
The Keep
Chapter 10
I waited among the trees, far enough from the road to be out of sight, but not so far as to be hard to find. As the light began to fade, I fidgeted, throwing glances at the sky and the increasing shadows around me. How much longer should I wait? If they didn’t appear soon, I would have to leave without them.
The crunch of leaves underfoot reached me, and I jumped, visions of bears and unnatural wolves filling my mind. If I was honest, I was twitchier than the increasing hour demanded.
But it was a human figure that stepped into sight, the prince soon followed by Audrey, only a few steps behind him.
“Sorry!” she called as soon as she saw me. “It was a little hard to get away.”
I wasn’t sure how she had managed it at all. I had expected her family to cling to her given her unexpected return.
“I told them I was exhausted and needed to go to sleep early,” she explained without my having to ask. “They currently think I’m holed up in my bedroom. I had to climb out the window and everything.”
It was one of the things I liked best
about Audrey. Once she had accepted the fact that I wouldn’t be providing any answers, she had adjusted quickly to my lack of speech and answered most of my questions without me needing to voice them.
She flashed a smile at Gabe. “Thankfully I had a handsome prince to catch me.”
“Did you hear that, Adelaide?” Gabe asked. “Some people think I’m handsome and appreciate having me around.”
I grunted and took off walking. I didn’t have time for their silly flirtations—and I doubted either of them wanted a visit from Leander tonight any more than I did.
Sure enough, they quickly fell into step behind me. I increased my speed, and they both kept pace. I didn’t want to cut it fine if I didn’t have to.
We broke through the trees around the lake well before the final light leached from the sky. A chorus of honks and bugles greeted us, my birds all swarming toward me. Even Eagle came over—albeit more slowly than the others. The way they clustered around gave me the impression that each one wanted to reassure herself that I was fine. I greeted them all by name, murmuring reassurances, surprised by how much their presence and affection warmed and calmed me. After the upheaval of the last twenty-four hours, the stability of their presence was unexpectedly comforting.
“I saw them this morning, didn’t I?” Audrey said, watching us from several steps away. “At the Keep.” She sounded subdued, none of her earlier high spirits in evidence now.
I flashed her a concerned look, but she quickly shook her head.
“I didn’t mention it to anyone, and I don’t think anyone else noticed them. I’m sure no one else would have thought anything of it if they did.”
Without thinking I turned to share a concerned glance with Gabe. We both knew that at least one other person at the Keep had a particular reason to take note of any swans.
“I’m sure he hasn’t seen them,” he murmured, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced.
Now that I stood here at the lake with nightfall so close, my enforced silence irked me even more than usual. Sighing, I walked away from the others, talking softly to the swans as I crossed over to my shelter. The two of them let me go, turning toward each other and beginning their own conversation. From the way they kept glancing around them, I suspected they were discussing my strange prison sanctuary.
A Captive of Wing and Feather Page 8