by Amanda Tero
“And let Sheriff Feroci tend to the taxes with his equipment wet?” He lowered his voice and muttered, “These should have been done yesterday.” He looked at her with a half smile. “You dust the saddle, and I shall wash the reins since I’ve dusted them already.”
Heat burned in Lia’s cheeks as she took a dry cloth and rubbed it over the leather. It was her task to dust both the saddle and the reins in the evenings after the sheriff returned…except she had to leave early last night at Bioti’s demands and was late today. Again. If the sheriff knew how little she actually did the tasks assigned to her, he might recall his deal with Bioti and thrust them from their home. She shivered and added speed to her dusting.
“Slowly, Lia.” Dumphey’s tone was calm and gentle, as if she were a mere child. “You are to be thorough, not speedy.”
Dumphey didn’t have to add that Sheriff Feroci’s man, Barat, would take a thorough look-over before accepting the tack for his master. Lia didn’t know if it was the sheriff who was particular, or Barat. She clenched the rag tighter as she smoothed it across the leather. “You shall finish before me and be waiting.”
“Then I shall help you.”
The rag balled in her hands. She shook it out before applying it to the saddle again, this time with added force. Her breath pushed out between her clenched teeth. “You and Noel could get in trouble if you were ever found out.” Besides, she didn’t need them to go above and beyond, trying to help her.
Dumphey snorted. “We shall be careful.” His voice lowered. “We were raised to be careful around the likes of the sheriff.”
“If he ever finds out—”
“He shan’t.” Dumphey rinsed his rag in the bucket of water. “Stable work is not for a lass.”
Lia scowled at Dumphey, even though his head was bent and he couldn’t see her. He wasn’t that much older than her. She didn’t need his opinions. “I have no choice.”
Dumphey shook his head. “Bioti could have let two of you work instead of just one. That would provide funds enough for her to keep her lovely cottage.”
“Oh, but the sisters are too refined for such a task as this.” Bitterness laced her words, but she couldn’t hold it back. She folded the rag so that it would fit in the creases of the fancy-work carved into the saddle. “I wish I could see an end to this, but I know there isn’t one. Bioti will never seek more work if she knows she can appease the sheriff with me here.”
Dumphey cleared his throat in a low warning. Lia bit her tongue and focused on the saddle as footsteps came through the stables.
“I don’t believe I heard talking…?” The icy statement skittered through the stables like sleet on cobblestones.
Lia glanced up at Dumphey. His eyebrows lowered as he slid the reins through the rag in his hand.
“I thought not.” Barat stood over Lia. Her hands shook as she cleaned another crevice. “I definitely didn’t foresee you cleaning the tack this morn. Dumphey? The sheriff likes his tack clean.” He paused and slid a finger over the leather. “Not wet.”
“It will be done and dry before the sheriff needs it,” Dumphey said, his voice strained as his hands worked faster. Lia matched his pace.
“I thought you left these tasks for…the lass?”
Dumphey’s eyes flashed as he glanced at Lia before looking up at Barat. “You will find my tasks completed. I saw no harm in ensuring the tack was done correctly and in time.” When he looked back at Lia, his hazel eyes begged forgiveness for shifting blame to her. She looked away.
Barat cleared his throat and walked back toward the door. He paused and spun on his heel.
“Oh, Dumphey, did I mention that the sheriff is wishing to leave early today?”
Dumphey’s eyebrows lowered even further than earlier, if that was possible. “How early?”
“Within the hour.”
The only response Dumphey gave was quickening his pace.
“I shall tell him he shan’t be disappointed.” Barat chuckled low and walked away, his footsteps echoing on the wooden planks.
As soon as the door shut behind Barat, Lia whispered, “Shall I get Noel?”
“Nay.” Dumphey threw his rag into the pail as he stood up. “I shall be quicker. See if you can finish the seat before we return.”
He left, and Lia swallowed back tears as her hands moved faster. He would never realize how much pain it caused to continually bring up her lameness. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Salty tears mustn’t land on the saddle and leave their mark. She couldn’t afford anything to slow her down further. Her slowness had already put Dumphey and Noel in potential trouble. She dusted off the last piece of leather before dunking her rag in the water. Her hands would have to compensate for the hours that Bioti stole from her. And she would work harder every morn so Bioti would release her sooner. She would prove to Dumphey that she could work hard, even with her limp.
Kiralyn Castle
Raoul’s heart hammered in his chest. “She can’t be alive. All of the servants assured me she was dead. Nes himself buried…” Raoul stopped and massaged his forehead. The servants had reported that Nes had buried Ellia before he himself died, and Raoul never questioned it. It hadn’t seemed important then. He had lost both Ellia and his wife Nydia.
Jolin moved behind the desk and placed his hand on Raoul’s shoulder, not saying a word. Raoul closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Jolin asked, “Shall I bring Nes here?”
Galien shook his head. “We needn’t do anything rashly. ʻTis possible Nes fibbed, to gain more money.”
Raoul heard a slight hesitation in his voice. He shifted in his chair then sat up, pulling his shoulder away from Jolin’s gentle grasp. “Do you think that?”
Jolin shrugged.
“Why did you not demand answers then?”
“He gave the message, then left.”
Raoul stood up and stepped away from Jolin, looking from one man to the other. “I want you to go back to Nes and do not return unless you bring him.”
“What if he refuses to come?” Galien asked.
“Then give him the money.”
Galien leaned forward. “You will toss money at a former servant—one who left his duties no less—just like that?”
Raoul crossed his arms. “If it were your daughter, would you not do the same?”
Galien stiffened and a mask slid over the pain in his brown eyes.
Raoul took in a quick breath. There was no excuse for his carelessness. “I beg forgiveness, Galien.” He couldn’t meet the man’s eyes. No one had fibbed about the death of Galien’s daughter during the plague. She had died the day before the men had returned.
Jolin cleared his throat and began slowly, “We could bring payment, show him the coins—”
Raoul looked at Jolin, wishing the discussion over.
“And if he is fibbing, you reward him?” Galien’s voice was clipped and cold.
“Nay.” Jolin’s jaw was tight. His blue eyes bore into Raoul, as if reminding him of the many years he had wisely dealt with Raoul’s business. “I wouldn’t pay without proof, m’lord.”
Raoul shrugged his shoulders as a pounding ache made its way into his head. “I will leave that to your discernment. Just go.” He turned his back to them, knowing that they wouldn’t press the issue further. He had to think this through while they were away. Find a better way to retrieve answers if Nes decided to be tight-lipped.
When the door shut behind the men, Raoul thrust his fingers through his hair and let out a lungful of air. He should tell Elayne…nay. Smoothing his hair back into place, he sped out the door. His footsteps pounded down the empty hallway as he caught up to Jolin and Galien.
“I’m going with you.”
Jolin shook his head. “Nay, m’lord.”
“Don’t tell me nay.” Raoul followed Jolin out to the courtyard. He checked his words as they passed by a few servants. “Jolin.” He kept his voice low so that it couldn’t be overheard. “I am going.”
&nb
sp; Jolin tilted his head toward the stables as he looked at Galien. “Ready two horses.”
Raoul gripped Jolin’s shoulder as Galien left. “Sometimes you enrage me.”
Jolin nodded. “And sometimes you are too hasty.”
“We can plan our next step as we ride together.”
No response.
Raoul shook Jolin. “Give me three good reasons why I should remain here.”
Jolin looked down at his boots. His shoulders rose then fell under Raoul’s grip before he looked up. “M’lord, you are angry. I fear you shall do something you will regret.”
“That is one reason.”
“Aye.” Jolin brought his gaze up to meet Raoul’s. “That one is enough.”
Raoul shoved Jolin and stomped past him as Galien came out with two horses. He grabbed the bridle of one. No father on earth would let his daughter out of sight longer than necessary. Especially if she were in the hands of Bioti. But you wouldn’t understand that.
Jolin walked past Raoul, grabbed the pommel, and hoisted himself onto the horse’s back. He leaned down and kept his voice low. “When we know more, then we can discuss the next step.”
Raoul’s fingers tightened on the reins of Jolin’s horse. He looked from one man to the other.
“You can trust us, m’lord,” Galien said, his face serious.
“Stay,” Jolin said. “Talk with Lady Kiralyn. Pray together.”
Raoul’s ears throbbed with each word the men said. He blinked to focus. One would think I had no control over my servants… Yet he couldn’t believe that, even in his anger. Jolin was more than a servant. He had proven that in the past, when Raoul’s anger had kept him from seeing reason before.
“M’lord.” Galien’s voice was soft. “It is not likely that Nes knows where she is—or mayhap he is not being truthful. It will take more than one visit to find…” he let his voice fade as he glanced around the courtyard, “her.”
Raoul’s fingers unclamped the reins only to clench into fists. He spun on his heel and stormed back to the castle. He would let the men leave, and he would follow behind. Then they couldn’t keep him from interrogating Nes himself.
He passed through the halls in mere seconds, his footsteps thundering against the stone floor. Stopping in front of the nursery door, he let out a slow, shaky breath as his fists loosened. He reached for the handle. It turned easily, and the door creaked open. Light from the hall window peeked into the dark bedchamber. Raoul pushed the door open until a bright path shone from the hall to the chamber’s windows. He crossed the room and pulled open the curtains, letting in more rays of light. He stood for a moment, staring out the window. It had been years since he had seen this view from the castle. Ten years, to be exact. But it was easier to look down at the land he daily walked on than to turn to face Ellia’s empty room and wonder what had become of her.
“Raoul?” Elayne’s voice was soft. Her arms wrapped around him. “You have never been in here since our marriage.” Her voice dropped even lower. “Is it Belle’s absence?” A tinge of sadness laced her voice as she laid her head on his shoulder.
Raoul placed his hands on top of Elayne’s, wishing her calmness could ease the wound that had reopened after all these years.
“Where are they going?” Elayne moved from Raoul’s grasp.
Raoul cleared his throat as he followed Elayne’s gaze to Galien and Jolin riding away. He would follow after talking with Elayne. She had been his steady supporter ever since he had told her of his first wife’s and Ellia’s deaths. How would she react to the news of Ellia being alive? If she is alive, Raoul reminded himself.
Elayne turned and raised her eyebrows. “Is something the matter?”
Raoul’s throat went dry. He tried clearing it again, wishing the action would also calm his racing heart. “El—” his lips wouldn’t form the name he hadn’t spoken in years. He turned away from Elayne and watched the dust particles floating in the light. He strode across the room and looked into Ellia’s crib. His arm brushed the lace as he reached in to clasp the slipper that rested among the blankets. It lay in his palm, dainty and light, like Ellia had been as a child. Where was she today at…thirteen? He turned the blanket over until he found the other slipper. It was twisted to conform to the only foot that would fit into it—Ellia’s.
He turned to face Elayne. “They say she’s alive.”
Elayne’s eyes widened. “Who says?”
“Jolin…one of my old servants, Nes.” He paused to straighten his thoughts. “We thought Nes was dead. He’s not. He told Jolin that the nursemaid took…Ellia.”
Elayne stepped to his side and slipped her hand on his arm. “Did they unearth the graves?”
Raoul jerked to study his gentle, proper wife. “Dig up…” He couldn’t finish.
“Aye.” Now, she flushed, as she apparently realized the meaning of her suggestion. “Mayhap you could begin with Nes’s and Bioti’s...to ensure they are not there.” Her words rushed as she continued, “You may wait until Jolin and Galien have returned then—”
“Nay.” Raoul took a deep breath as he looked down at the slippers. “We shall do it.”
Abtshire
Lia pushed the door open and slipped through it, into the outdoor air. She took a deep breath, trying not to smell anything. The stables smelled better than this part of the village, where scraps and trash filled every spare corner. Holding a hand to her nose, she walked away from Bioti’s wattle and daub cottage.
“Lia! Where are you?”
Lia released her breath. She knew better than try to outrun Bioti. The older woman could chase her down unless she was out of sight. She choked as her lungs involuntarily took in enough air to last her until she reached inside.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m on my way to the stables,” Lia said, keeping her eyes focused on the ground beneath her long skirts as she walked back inside the dim cottage. Her fingers curled into a loose ball as she clenched her teeth. She relaxed the next moment. She shouldn’t be showing Bioti her feelings.
Bioti let out a frustrated groan. “ʻTis barely into the morn. You have sufficient time to knead the bread before heading out.”
“I was late yestermorn.” Lia kept her voice low as she hobbled to the table, where she had left the dough to rise. Of course she shouldn’t have expected that Bioti would make Geva finish the task. The lass was still in bed.
“Always shirking.” Bioti placed her fists on her plump waist. “Do not make me hire you out for a servant. And that will happen if I do not find someone to marry you by sixteen.”
Lia gritted her teeth and pounded the dough. She wouldn’t put it past Bioti to hire her out before she was sixteen. She forced herself to be gentle. The bread wouldn’t rise if she was harsh with it, which would then mean Bioti would make her skip dinner.
“I wonder if the sheriff’s wife might find use for ye,” Bioti said, settling onto a chair. Lia glanced sideways at her. One day, that chair would decide to give out under her weight. Which meant that Lia would be blamed, even though she had nothing to do with it being rickety. Bioti leaned back, making the chair moan. “Mayhap I could speak with her. Wish me luck that she doesn’t ask to examine you before accepting your service.” The last words were spoken in a harsh grumble.
Heat rolled into Lia’s cheeks. She tried to feign a smile, wishing it would erase this telltale sign of her discomfort. “I do not believe the sheriff could do with one less stable hand, and I cannot do them both.”
Bioti stood, knocking the chair over. Lia took a step back, but Bioti was faster, slapping her cheek.
“Do not backtalk me, child!”
Lia blinked back sudden tears as her stomach cinched. Show nothing. It doesn’t hurt me. It doesn’t. She bit her tongue as she pinched the dough into loaves and flung them onto the stone. She forced her words to come out evenly as she said, “These are ready for baking when they have risen.” She smeared the dough from her hands to her apron. �
�I shall be late.” She didn’t wait for Bioti to reply. Hopping on her good leg, she reached the door.
“Helpless child. No one shall want you!”
She slammed the door and spun around. Ignoring the pain that shot up through her leg, she stumbled through the streets. This time, she didn’t even notice the smells. She swallowed, trying to release the lump in her throat, but it only made it worse.
One day, I shall show Bioti. ʻTis her own daughters who are helpless. If it weren’t for me…
Lia left the thought unfinished as she reached the stables. She could hear the spade scraping ground and groaned. Someone had begun mucking the stalls—the task she was supposed to do.
She swung open the door. “Dumphey, I—”
“No need for excuses, Lia.” Dumphey tossed a spadeful of manure into the barrow then held out the spade to her. He gave her a small grin. “Just giving you a head start before Philaon arrives.”
Lia wrapped her fingers around the handle and dipped her head. That hateful blush was returning, she could feel it. She didn’t need people to give her head starts. She could do it on her own. “I’m thankful it’s Philaon and not Barat who oversees us.”
“Which could change any day.”
Memories of Barat’s unexpected visit the day before sent a shiver through Lia as she entered a stall. She filled her spade—much less than what Dumphey had done—then added it to the barrow.
“Call me when it needs emptying,” Dumphey said over his shoulder as he left Lia alone.
It had probably taken Dumphey a few minutes to empty the first stall, while it took Lia half an hour to scrape clean the second stall he had begun. For every half-minute she saved by moving the spade quickly, she lost in her stumbled trip to the barrow.
“Good morn.” The young, cheery voice belonged to Noel.