I did not have time for further ruminations on the subject of Reynar’s age, for Janessa said then, in deprecating tones, “Oh, I was not thinking of him for myself. He is quite handsome, but the son of a baron can do far better than the likes of me.”
“Don’t be silly,” I reprimanded her. “For you are of gentle birth, even if your father does not hold a title. At least you are not the daughter of someone in trade, as I am.”
She turned away from the window so she could raise an eyebrow at me. “Perhaps you think that matters, Iselda, but I am quite sure that Lord Mayson does not.”
“Janessa!” Even as her name left my lips, I experienced a stir of unease. I had not thought there were any witnesses to the kiss Mayson and I shared, nor to our quite intense conversation the next day, but…what if there had? Janessa did have quite the talent for hiding herself away and listening in, filing away any tidbits she might collect for future use. Not that she was devious, or intended any harm, but as the outsider here, she did whatever she could to feel that she fit in, and knowing things others didn’t seemed to be part of her strategy.
My outburst appeared to have pleased her, for her lips curved in a smile. “You sound outraged, Iselda. I cannot see why. It is so very obvious to me that Lord Mayson has developed some kind of feelings for you.”
“I do not think it is obvious at all,” I retorted, “for how can a thing be obvious when there is nothing to see in the first place?”
“And I do not see why you protest so much,” she said, her tone so mild that it was almost insulting. “For Lord Mayson is a very fine man. It is bad luck for Carella that he has given his heart elsewhere, but I suppose that is the risk in making acquaintances. One cannot always expect a person to do as one wishes.”
That sentiment was one I wholeheartedly agreed with. For if it were otherwise, then Mayson would have fallen in love with Carella, and been content to be only my friend.
And if people always did as I wished, then Reynar’s mage master would have delayed his arrival by another five minutes, I thought. If he had not interrupted us, who knows what might have happened?
Possibly true. But pondering might-have-beens would certainly not do me any good. Besides, if luck was finally on my side, then perhaps tonight Reynar and I would be able to make up for what had been interrupted the night before.
“No, one cannot,” I said, attempting to sound just as mild and unassuming as Janessa. “But if I were you, I would perhaps care less about what may or may not be in Lord Mayson’s heart, and perhaps put my efforts into becoming acquainted with young Lord Gwyllim. He is not betrothed to anyone, you know.”
“He isn’t?” Janessa asked, in unconcerned tones that didn’t fool me one whit.
“No, he is not, for his father appears to hold the romantic notion that his son should be able to choose for himself. So you see, he may set his sights on you during his visit here.”
A flush colored the fair skin of Janessa’s cheeks, and she waved a hand. “Oh, Iselda. I am not so impressed with my own appearance that I think there is much chance of that happening. Far more likely that he will take note of Carella, or perhaps even Theranne, although at sixteen she is a bit young.”
I shrugged. “They are lovely, but so are you. And it is often difficult to guess where someone’s affections might take hold.” That was certainly no more than the simple truth. I still could not begin to understand why Mayson paid me such particular attentions, when Carella was just as pretty, and of far better birth. And I feared that, even if I ever did gather the courage to ask him such a bald-faced question, he would find some way to avoid telling me the truth.
Luckily, Janessa didn’t seem inclined to argue. Her face took on a dreamy cast, and she looked out the window once again. By then, I was certain Baron Linsmere’s entourage had entered the castle’s gates and disappeared from view, but perhaps it was enough for Janessa to merely gaze down on where they had been, and think of what might come to pass over the next few days.
I, too, wished to dream on such a subject, but for an entirely different reason. It would be more difficult with so many strangers staying in the castle, but I thought I would face a fire-breathing dragon — if such things even existed — for a chance to be alone with Reynar once again.
First, though, I had to survive dinner, and the reception to follow.
* * *
The dining hall would not accommodate all of the guests and all of the regular members of the household, and so those of us in the younger set were relegated to the table in the smaller dining chamber where the family ate breakfast. No one there seemed to be particularly discommoded by such an arrangement, however; I had no doubt that we were a rather livelier crew than those who sat at the main table. As the guests of honor, Adalynn and her betrothed Coryn were not with us, but Coryn’s younger brother Bradwyn was, along with everyone else under the age of twenty.
Which meant Mayson did not sit with us. I could not act too relieved by that particular detail, though, for even though she seemed happy to chatter and laugh with Gwyllim, the baron’s son, I noted how Janessa’s gaze would slide toward me on occasion, as if attempting to gauge my disappointment at not being able to sit with the heir to Bellender Rise.
Of course I was not disappointed at all, but I knew better than to reveal anything of what I thought of the situation. One of the other guest’s sons, a young man whose name I had not even caught, kept attempting to engage me in conversation. I parried his sallies as best I could, and wished I might be elsewhere. Large gatherings had always been difficult for me, for overall I far preferred to hide somewhere with a book, and at the beginning of my sojourn at Mirfeld Hall, I had had a difficult time adjusting to what seemed to me to be the overwhelming number of people in my aunt’s household. By now, of course, I was used to living with four other girls, and having so many servants to wait on all of us, but I still did not care for those occasions when my aunt invited the families in the neighborhood over for a Midwinter feast, or a birthday celebration for one of her daughters. More than once she’d offered to hold the same kind of celebration for me, an offer that I’d always refused. I had no desire to be the center of attention.
At length, though, dinner was concluded, but unfortunately — to my view, at any rate — that was not the end of the evening’s festivities. Torches illuminated the rose garden, and we all went outside to drink the light, fizzy wine of Willensur Province and enjoy the mild summer night. Musicians played from a dais that had been erected at the southern end of the courtyard, but not too lively, for this was a reception, not a dance. The following evening there would be a grand ball after the wedding dinner had concluded, but for now my aunt and uncle’s guests must content themselves with only conversing.
I had hoped to slip away as soon as I could, for these sorts of gatherings were always dreadfully uncomfortable for me. Even though six years had passed, the scandal of King Harlin’s death and the disappearance of my sister and her mage-born husband was still a topic of conversation, and many looked on me as an interesting curiosity. Of course I had been far too young at the time to be involved in any way, but that mattered little to those who merely wished to amuse themselves with sensational gossip.
No one of that ilk approached me, which should have been a relief. However, even as I was beginning to sidle past the musicians, and thence to the door that would lead into the castle and the sanctuary of my tower bedroom, I heard Mayson’s voice.
“Lady Iselda. I was not happy to miss you at dinner.”
Reluctantly, I turned toward him. He was looking very handsome this evening in a high-collared doublet of dull silk in a dark blue-green, but I cared little for that. I was only cursing myself for not being quicker to get away.
“Lord Mayson,” I replied. “I fear you must take your complaints regarding the seating arrangements to my aunt, for it was her decree that placed us in separate chambers.”
“I did,” he said with a smile. “And she told me that I have be
en able to see you at almost every meal I’ve eaten here at the castle, and so it was very silly for me to be repining over a single dinner.”
“She does have a point.”
His shoulders lifted, and he sipped from the cup of wine he held. “Perhaps. And yet I still find myself dissatisfied.”
“I am sorry to hear that, my lord, for I fear the arrangements tomorrow night will be much the same.”
A quick glance around us, and then he moved closer before saying, “Ah, but at least tomorrow night I will have the opportunity to dance with you, so that will mitigate my disappointment somewhat.”
These words did little to soothe my spirit, for I had hoped to avoid dancing with him at all. In a large enough company, with so many guests, accomplishing such a thing should not have been that difficult. But it seemed he was set on sharing at least one dance with me, most likely several more than that. So far I had managed to avoid engaging in such activity with him, for my aunt had held no dances since he’d come to stay with us. I had not inquired as to her motivations for doing so; in the past we usually had a dance on Midsummer’s Eve and then another at the close of the season, just before the harvest was due to begin. But I guessed that she was husbanding her resources for Adalynn’s wedding and did not wish to create an extra burden for herself by holding the usual social gathering only a few weeks prior to that.
“This is true,” I said, my tone as neutral as I could make it. “But you must not monopolize me too much, or I fear Aunt Lyselle will have words for you.”
He grinned and drank some more wine. “I rather doubt that your aunt will be paying all that much attention. She will be far more occupied with attending to her own daughter than paying much mind to what her ward might be doing.”
Those words, although probably true enough, stung a little. For I was not Lyselle’s daughter, and so it was only natural that she would be watching over Adalynn, who had made such a great match, and not her niece, who was not so very important after all.
When I thought of it that way, Mayson’s observation seemed rather cruel, and I slanted a wary eye up at him. I could tell that he had had more to drink than the single cup of wine he usually consumed at dinner every night, but since I had not been with him for most of the evening, I had no real way of knowing exactly how much he actually had drunk.
“Perhaps,” I said. “But Carella and Theranne and Janessa will probably not be so preoccupied, and they do like to go telling tales.”
This comment only made him take a step closer to me. Now our proximity was almost uncomfortable, and I cast a quick glance around to see if anyone had noticed.
No luck there. Since I had been about to dart inside, Mayson had accosted me right by the door, which was recessed into a small alcove. In front of us were the players on their dais. While the courtyard was crowded with people, none of them seemed to be paying the two of us any particular mind.
And it was quite dark back there….
“If they tell tales, let them be good ones,” he said, and reached out with his free hand to touch one of the golden curls that fell loose over my shoulder. “If your aunt should complain that you have monopolized me, would it not be better if you could tell her that was only because we had just become betrothed?”
The breath caught in my throat. We had been dancing around this for the past several days, but I had not thought he would speak of it so openly. “Mayson, I do not think this is the time….”
“Then when? I promise you, Iselda, I will keep silent now if it makes you happy, but why should we forever delay? I felt it when you kissed me, and — ”
“You kissed me,” I broke in, then subsided, casting a nervous glance around to make sure no one had overheard. Luckily — or unluckily, depending on how one looked at the situation — Mayson and I were separated in such a way from the rest of the crowd that none of them stood close enough to hear what we were saying.
“Well, yes, I suppose I did,” he said equably. “But you seemed to enjoy it well enough. So again I have to wonder why you are so reluctant. Surely you know how happy it would make everyone to know that we intend to become husband and wife. Why, my father would be overjoyed. Think of how happy he will be tomorrow when he arrives and hears the news.”
For myself, I could only stare up at Mayson in utter consternation. Yes, I had told him that we would meet here again, after the wedding. But I had not said I would become his wife.
Again I had to wonder why he found the matter so urgent. Certainly I was not going anywhere. Did he think that the kiss we had shared constituted a promise of marriage?
“As I said before,” I told him, as calmly as I could manage, “I do not think it fair to Adalynn to make any decisions right now. Let her be married and be the center of attention. Your father would certainly not wish for us to detract from her day.”
Mayson was silent, seeming to consider my words. I held my breath and hoped he would see the reasonableness of such a request. I had not refused him outright — although I rather wished I had the courage to do so. Surely he would understand that this was not the time for us to be deciding the future course of our lives.
At last he appeared to relent. “Very well, Iselda. I cannot say I am pleased, but I understand your reasoning.”
“Thank you, Mayson.”
He sipped at his wine, then said, “But do not think I have forgotten your promise to me. I will see you here the day after the wedding.”
I nodded, said, “Of course,” and then fled into the castle. My heart pounded as if I had just run all the way from Daleskeld Forest, and I knew the reason why.
Mayson’s last words had not been a promise.
They had been a threat.
* * *
Janessa came up to bed very late. I was already under the covers, pretending to be asleep, although sleep was the furthest thing from my mind right then. All I wanted was for Janessa to let slumber overtake her, so that the spell might summon her and I might go to the forest to see Reynar.
She bustled about getting ready for bed, making far more noise than was required. I rather thought that she wanted to wake me so she could discuss her evening, but I knew better than to oblige her. I kept my eyes tightly shut, and after a time she heaved a rather exasperated sigh and then climbed into bed.
Thank the gods.
A few minutes later, her regular breathing seemed to signal that she had fallen asleep. I turned over onto my side and cautiously opened my eyes, just in case she was in fact still awake and waiting to pounce.
But no, she most definitely seemed to be deep in slumber. I watched her, and waited for the spell to take hold and draw her forth from her bed.
And waited. And waited.
Lying there, I felt my heart sink. Had the mage not cast the spell tonight, for whatever reason? Would all the girls stay in their beds this evening?
I fervently hoped that was not the case. I wanted — no, I needed — to go see Reynar.
But it seemed my wishes were of little worth, for the minutes passed, and still Janessa did not stir. I lay in bed, warring with myself. Of course the wise thing to do would be to stay where I was. If the spell to summon the girls to dance in the forest had not been cast, then very likely the accompanying spell, the one that made sure all the castle’s residents slept soundly while my cousins and Janessa crept outside, had not been used as well. I would be risking a great deal by attempting to leave on my own.
For several minutes I warred with myself, but in the end, the compulsion to go see Reynar was simply too strong. But I dared not put on one of my gowns, for if I were caught, that would result in even more questions. At least if I was seen slipping down the corridors in my nightgown with a shawl flung about me, I could make excuses, could say that I was hungry and was headed to the kitchen to find something to eat.
And if I happened to be caught outside, well, there was always the excuse of sleepwalking, although I had never done such a thing in my life…and in general, sleepwalkers did not
pause to put on their shoes first.
So I sat up cautiously, then slid out from under the covers with equal care. Luckily, my slippers sat underneath the bed, for with all the commotion in the household today, Tarly had not bothered with anything except the most cursory of tidyings-up. The shawl I sought had been hung up inside the wardrobe; I opened the door as slowly as I could, but it still squeaked. I paused, heart pounding away in my breast, but Janessa did not stir.
At least the shawl hung from a hook on the inside of the wardrobe door, so I did not have to rummage for it. I pulled it off and wrapped it around my shoulders, then closed the wardrobe and began to inch my way to the door, my eyes on Janessa the entire time.
Still she did not move, and I was able to slip out into the hallway without her noticing. I closed the door with the barest whisper of the latch, and began to tiptoe down the corridor, acutely aware of how every room behind every door had its occupant, and how any of them could appear at any time. For all I knew, some of the servants were still down in the courtyard, cleaning up now that the last of the revelers had gone to bed.
That notion set my heart pounding all over again, so I hurried over to one of the windows that overlooked the rose garden and peered out. I was still far too tense to allow myself a sigh of relief, but I did relax slightly, for the courtyard was dark and still, all the torches snuffed out, and with no sign of activity. So it appeared Janessa had lingered long enough that even the servants had retired for the night.
Thus encouraged, I hurried to the staircase and then began to descend it, with each step becoming a little braver. Not bolder, though; I hugged the wall and made sure my slippers were as quiet as possible as I took each step. A few candles burned here and there in sconces, but otherwise the place was dark and still, with not a hint of anyone stirring.
Perhaps they had all overindulged, and were now fast asleep, an abundance of wine making them sleep more soundly than they normally would. I could not question my good luck, but only hurried from room to room until I reached the kitchens, and at last came upon the door to the outside world.
tales of the latter kingdom 08 - moon dance Page 13