tales of the latter kingdom 08 - moon dance

by Christine Pope

  “Not if you explain that it was not your fault,” I said gently. “Something is going on, that is for certain, because my cousins’ slippers have also been damaged.”

  “That is true,” Janessa said, looking a little more cheerful. “I wonder what could be ruining them in such a way.”

  “I am sure there must be a logical explanation,” I told her, even as I thought, Although I dare not give you the real reason. Even if I told you the truth, I do not think you would believe me.

  As I spoke, there was some commotion across the corridor. In the next instant, Adalynn stood in the doorway, another pair of tattered slippers in her hands and rage in her eyes. “What did I just hear? Janessa’s shoes are ruined as well?”

  “I would not say ruined, precisely,” Janessa responded, although her voice was not completely steady. She would never admit such a thing out loud, but I knew that Adalynn intimidated her somewhat, and she would go out of her way to avoid a confrontation with the eldest daughter of the house. “But certainly they do not look new anymore.”

  Adalynn glared down at the shoes Tarly still held. “They look ruined to me,” she said with a sniff. “I have been thinking on it, and it must be Daisy who is doing this.”

  Daisy was my aunt’s little dog, a sweet creature who never even ventured upstairs, as far as I could tell. She spent most of her time sleeping on a soft down-filled bed in my aunt’s chambers, and was her shadow when she did manage to venture out into the castle. At any rate, even if I had not known for certain that Daisy was innocent of any wrongdoing, I would have still argued that she could not possibly be responsible. Some dogs might enjoy chewing on slippers and the legs of chairs and anything else that came into their orbit, but Daisy was certainly not one of them.

  “I don’t think so,” I said at once. “She is a good dog, and has never shown that kind of behavior before.”

  “Well, perhaps something has changed,” Adalynn retorted. “Perhaps she does not like the heat, or perhaps she is upset by the preparations for the wedding. After all, she is a dog. One cannot apply logic to a creature like that.”

  I thought privately that Daisy showed more good sense than some people I had met, but I knew better than to say such a thing to Adalynn. The ruin of another pair of slippers had clearly incensed her, and I could also tell that the night’s activities seemed to have worn more on her than Janessa, or Carella and Theranne, who had appeared a moment after their sister and were peering through the doorway, watching the goings-on. But Adalynn’s eyes were shadowed, and there was a pallor to her face that I did not like. Had the spell fallen more heavily on her for some reason?

  I did not know. I could not even make an educated guess, for I knew very little about magic and its effects. But I did make sure that I chose my next words carefully, as I had a feeling that Adalynn’s temper, always somewhat short, was even more on edge this morning.

  “Perhaps we should ask your mother,” I said. “For Daisy sleeps in her chamber, and so she would know better than anyone else whether the dog had gotten out in the night.”

  If this suggestion did not precisely mollify her, it did make Adalynn at least nod and say, “Yes, I think that is a good idea. It is time to go down for breakfast anyway.”

  As it was. The group of us trooped down the stairs and on into the smaller chamber we used for less formal meals. I say “less formal,” but the room was still much larger — and grander — than the dining room in the house where I had grown up. My aunt and uncle were already there, drinking their own morning tea. Larinda, one of the downstairs maids, had just set out platters of fresh fruit and several of my favorite, the breakfast pie made with cheese and eggs and bacon.

  “Mama,” Adalynn said without preamble as she entered the chamber, “Mama, another pair of my slippers has been ruined, and Janessa’s as well. We think it must be Daisy, worrying at them in the middle of the night while we are asleep.”

  Looking rather startled, my aunt set down her teacup. “Another pair of slippers?”

  “All our slippers,” Theranne put in. “Only I had been wearing my older ones, and so I am not quite so put out as Adalynn. But still, Mama, I think it very bad of Daisy to treat them so.”

  “What on earth is this nonsense about Daisy?” my uncle demanded. “That dog was asleep in her bed when I closed my eyes last night, and she was still there when I awoke. The door to our suite was closed. So how, pray, do you think the dog got out at all, let alone went upstairs — where she never goes, because the staircase frightens her — and chewed on your slippers?”

  My cousins all looked at one another, none of them apparently that eager to respond. Uncle Danly was a kindly man, but he did not appreciate a commotion at his breakfast table.

  But then Adalynn said, “I do not know. I just cannot think of any other explanation for our shoes becoming so terribly damaged night after night.”

  For a few seconds, no one said anything. My aunt glanced over at me, then asked, “And what of you, Iselda?”

  “I?” I responded, startled. I had been hanging back, watching but wanting to stay out of the conversation.

  “Yes, you. I cannot help but notice that you do not claim to have suffered the same kind of losses as your cousins. What about your slippers? Have you found them in the same regrettable state?”

  “No, Aunt Lyselle. They do not seem to have been harmed.”

  “Well, that’s rather extraordinary, don’t you think?”

  I had to admit to myself that it was, although not for the reasons she might think. Perhaps very soon there would come a time when I was forced to admit everything to her, but at the moment I only wanted to steer the conversation away from me. How could I tell my aunt — and everyone else present — that I was more or less unscathed because the spell that had summoned the rest of the girls out to the nighttime forest had not touched me?

  Either they would think I was mad, or, worse, they would summon one of the witch-finders from Bodenskell to investigate further. True, King Harlin had a far more relaxed stance about magic and mages than his crazed father, but even so, he had not abolished that investigative body, either. The last thing I wanted was for the witch-finders to track down the strange young man I had met in the woods the night before. He had sworn that my cousins would be fine, and they were — perhaps somewhat weary, but certainly healthy and whole.

  I doubted very much that the witch-finders would take such a fact into their consideration.

  All I could do was lift my shoulders. “Perhaps. But if it is Daisy who is doing these things, perhaps she does not like the odor of my feet.”

  Theranne and Carella both giggled, and even my uncle’s mouth quirked.

  “I do not think it is Daisy,” Aunt Lyselle said. “It seems we have a mystery on our hands, but we will not solve it here. Do sit down, girls — having you stand there in the doorway like that is giving me a headache.”

  Everyone dutifully went to take their seats, and I sat as well. As my cousins occupied themselves with filling their plates, some of the tension went out of the room.

  But I saw my aunt watching me closely, speculation in her eyes, and I knew I would have to be careful. She was right — there was a mystery, and so far she had not solved it.

  I just feared she would do her best to unravel the puzzle before I had sufficient time to do so myself.

  CHAPTER 6

  Because of the hubbub in the castle — and because I thought it best if my path did not accidentally cross with that of Lord Mayson — I stayed in my room for most of the day, saying that I was rather tired and wished to read. This excuse for my isolation was met with a few raised eyebrows, but no one tried to stop me. By that point I had a well-earned reputation for being bookish, and so no one saw anything particularly odd in my wanting to spend the day with my nose in a tome of legends from days gone by, a gift Aunt Lyselle had gotten for me during her last visit to Bodenskell.

  However, I did not use the whole time for reading. I sat by the windo
w and let the warm breeze flow in, and gazed off to the north and east, to the dark blur of Daleskeld Forest. Immediately north, the land swelled into foothills and then real mountains, where my uncle’s mining operations were located. But they were not what drew my interest. From this distance, and in the bright daylight, the forest did not appear all that intimidating. It did not look like a place which hid such mysteries as I had stumbled across the night before.

  I had pulled down every book in my collection and leafed through it, thinking perhaps I would find some mention of a people who resembled the young man I had met, and yet I could find nothing. True, I had heard stories of those who were born with no coloring at all, but those stories had also stated that such unfortunates had reddish eyes. The stranger in the forest certainly did not possess red eyes. Even now I could recall the way the moonlight had glinted on his face, awakening shimmers of silver from between his thick lashes…which had been dark, startling against his pale skin.

  Although it was not the sort of thing I wished to admit to myself, I realized then that he was quite the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

  However, I could not allow myself to be distracted by such surface concerns. Far more important was how he seemed to know exactly what was happening with my cousins, even if he had been reluctant to tell me the truth. Based on what he had said, I knew he was not the one who had cast the spell…but did he work for, or even with, the mage responsible for that strange magic?

  That was certainly the first thing I would ask, once I saw him again. I did not know why I was so certain such a thing would happen, when he had all but driven me from the woods the night before, but somehow I felt it in my bones that we would meet again.

  And the second matter I would inquire of him would be why this strange spell, seemingly cast to capture all the young women dwelling in the castle, did not affect me at all. It could not be because of my blood, for I was related to the three sisters, and Janessa not at all, and yet she went out into the night and danced with them, where I, their own cousin, did not.

  The stranger’s warnings that I should stay away…well, I had decided to ignore them. Had I not survived my first journey into the woods completely unscathed? That is, except the damage done to my gown and my shoes, but those were minor things, and I would be more careful tonight, now that I knew what to expect.

  At length it was time for dinner. Because the first of the wedding guests would not be arriving until the next day, our evening meal tonight would be a quiet enough affair, and I knew I would not need to change my gown. So I returned my books to their shelves and went downstairs, steeling myself to face Lord Mayson for the first time since his father had departed.

  Luckily, my tidying up had made me late enough that I was the last to enter the dining hall. Everyone was already seated, Mayson in his usual place to my uncle’s left, while Aunt Lyselle had the chair to the right.

  Murmuring an apology for my tardiness, I hurried to my place, which was opposite Janessa and below Carella. When I had first come to stay at the castle, I had found myself somewhat angered by the designated spot where I must sit, since it seemed to signal to everyone my lowly position in the family, a cousin there by sufferance, a poor relation. I cannot say I was still completely reconciled to it, even though I understood the customs which dictated the placement. In that moment, however, I was merely glad my position at the bottom of the table meant I was safely separated from Lord Mayson.

  As had been the case lately, the conversation centered mostly around Adalynn’s upcoming nuptials, with more of the apparently ceaseless discussions of the placement of the flowers and whether another course should be added to the dinner, and what on earth they should do if dreadful Cousin Patrile should show up the way she had threatened. I listened with half an ear, my thoughts far more focused on what lay ahead for me that night after everyone had gone to bed.

  Even so, I could not help but notice the way Mayson’s gaze seemed fixed on me, so that every time I looked up from my plate, I saw his dark eyes glaring down the length of the table to the place where I sat. Although the food was quite excellent, I found my appetite wanting to desert me. Surely he was not going to pursue his suit, not after everything I had said both to him and to his father?

  I couldn’t know, and that was most definitely not the time to ask. The only positive note was that no one else seemed to perceive his unwanted attention, and so I thought I could still salvage the evening, if only I was able to slip away after dinner before he had a chance to speak to me.

  My luck did not seem to hold, however. The servants came to clear away the plates, and everyone stood. This was the time when my uncle would go to his study, while we girls would head to Aunt Lyselle’s sitting room for more conversation before it was time to retire upstairs for the night. But as I stood and began to inch my way toward the door, Lord Mayson said,

  “Perhaps a turn outside, Iselda? For it is still quite warm.”

  Trapped, I could but nod. Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I noted how my aunt’s head tilted to one side, as if she was absorbing this new wrinkle and attempting to determine how it might alter what I had said to her previously on the subject of Mayson Bellender. Affecting an air of unconcern, I waited for him to come up to me. Then he offered his arm, and I had no choice but to take it so he might lead me out of the dining chamber and into the corridor, where a door opened up onto the gardens.

  Despite my unease, I could not help noticing what a beautiful evening it was, the air still thick with the scent of roses, the first stars beginning to appear in the soft, lavender-tinted skies. A perfect evening for romance, some might think. Was that Mayson’s intention — to bring me to a place where the conditions were perfect for convincing me to be his wife?

  I swallowed, but said nothing as he closed the garden door and began to lead me down one of the graveled paths. When we were far enough away from any open windows that even the most avid ear could not have overheard our conversation, he stopped, dark eyes intent on my face.

  “I think you have been avoiding me, Iselda.”

  Denials immediately bubbled to my lips. “No, my lord, of course not. It was only that it was quite warm today, and I did not much feel inclined toward activity. Up in my room, the breeze is very fine, and it is far more comfortable than in other parts of the castle.”

  That actually sounded quite plausible. I waited as he seemed to consider my words, and hoped he would believe them. Then he said, “I thought we were friends, Iselda.”

  My heart sank. Truly, I did not know what to say to him. Friends, yes, but he wished for more than that, or at least wished for me to be a friend while at the same time to become his wife. I did not think I could manage that.

  Especially not after last night, I thought, even though I immediately pushed the ridiculous notion away. I did not know who the strange young man was, not even his name. Yes, I’d been struck by his beauty, but that was certainly no reason for me to expect anything else from him, other than an explanation as to why all the castle’s young women were being summoned to perform their strange dance.

  “We are friends, my lord,” I said. “And I thought we had already discussed this.”

  “We did.” He paused then, again searching my face. I thought of the contrast between his warm brown eyes and the stranger’s glittering silver, and was vaguely ashamed of myself for making the comparison. I certainly had no reason to be doing so. “And my father told me what you said.” Another hesitation, and he moved closer, then took my hands in his. “Do you really think a marriage between us would be loveless?”

  How on earth should I respond to that? Even as I flailed about, attempting to come up with a reasonable answer, a spark of anger awoke inside me. Lord Elwyn should not have told his son that I had said such things.

  “I — ”

  I could get no further than that, because in the next moment Mayson had pulled me toward him, was bending down…and oh, his mouth was touching mine, and he was kissing me, his f
ingers tight on mine, his lips sweet with wine.

  I will not lie and say it was not pleasurable on some level. Indeed, I thought I could see why men and women desired to kiss one another, for the sensations flooding through me were both novel and at the same time curiously exciting. And yet…

  …and yet I did not feel the world stop turning, nor did I feel as if my body was on fire, both descriptions I had read in books of how it was supposed to feel when a man kissed you. Perhaps those books had been exaggerating…or perhaps I was not sent into transports merely because it was Mayson kissing me, rather than the true match of my heart.

  After a moment, he raised his mouth from mine and said, his voice somewhat hoarse, “You see? We will do very well together, Iselda. Do you deny it?”

  I pulled in a breath, and then another. “Mayson, I — I am not sure what to say.”

  “What is there to say, except you will be my wife?”

  Oh, gods. Very gently, I pulled my fingers from his. “Do you think one kiss is enough to change my mind?”

  His eyes glinted in the semi-darkness. “I can give you another, if that is what you need to convince you.”

  This was a Mayson I did not quite recognize. Was he being more forceful because the kiss had awakened something inside him, something he had not wanted to acknowledge until this moment?

  I did not know what to say. For I could not deny that I had enjoyed the kiss, even while I knew it was not everything it might have been. Or was I just being foolish, thinking that what the storybooks said had any bearing on the real world? Mayson was only a few years older than I, handsome and kind and titled. A girl such as myself could do far, far worse. Indeed, many would say that I now had no choice, that because I had allowed him to take such a liberty with me, I had compromised myself and must be his wife or face certain disgrace.