Fortunately, they never asked.
***
“Can I have the day off?”
Cyhan gave him a blank stare before eventually replying, “Why?”
Gram had returned to his room briefly already, but then he had remembered he was supposed to meet his teacher. He had told Alyssa he would try to beg off and then hurried to meet Cyhan.
“I haven’t slept in almost a day and a half. I’m half dead.” It was easy to be honest with the warrior, since he never asked questions beyond what might be important to the present.
“This is a good opportunity then,” said the big man with an evil expression. “You will learn two things today.”
His student didn’t ask. Gram knew his teacher would explain if he felt it necessary.
This time he did, “One, that a fight never comes when you are ready, and two, that neglecting the proper care of your body is always a poor choice.”
By the time Gram returned to the castle that evening his body ached from head to toe. They had fought barehanded, a choice he suspected that his teacher had made solely for the purpose of allowing him better control of how and where he inflicted bruises upon his poor student.
Alyssa wasn’t in his room when he returned, so he didn’t see her until he went to the great hall for dinner. The look of disappointment on her face when he saw her told him that she had been unhappy with his failure to return, but of course they couldn’t talk about it openly at the table. Her expression changed when she saw the state he was in.
His legs trembled as he carefully lowered himself onto his seat, wincing as he discovered a new bruise.
“Are you alright?” asked Alyssa with some concern.
“I took a fall this afternoon.”
Matthew stared at him, “Have you been fighting?”
“I just took a fall, that’s it,” said Gram stubbornly, refusing to look at his friend.
Matthew leaned in, whispering, “I can see your bruises, including the ones your clothing hides. So can my sister. Who did this?”
“It was Perry wasn’t it,” said Moira angrily, leaning across the table and keeping her voice low. “It’s not fair. He trains every day and now he’s bullying you just because he likes the same girl that…”
“I said, I took a fall! Leave it alone,” growled Gram loudly. Then he lowered his voice, noting the curious stares from the adults farther down the table, “No one is bullying me.”
“We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us,” said Moira, her eyes were growing moist.
Alyssa was afraid Moira might make a scene, so she intervened. “Let him be. He’s a man. He’ll tell us if he wants our help.”
Matthew clapped him on the shoulder, sending another sharp pain through him. “Just say the word and I’ll make them pay dearly.”
“I don’t want, or need, protecting!” Gram was angry now, though he felt a certain pride in what Alyssa had just said.
The table fell silent after that, for which Gram was grateful. When he was finished he returned to his room, wasting no time in finding his bed. He slept as the dead, falling into blackness unsullied by dreams.
He awoke hours later, confused and wondering at the time. A warm body slid close and he felt Alyssa’s arm move across his chest. “How?”
“You left the door unlatched.”
With one hand he drew a lock of her hair across his lips, enjoying the scent. “A wise move it seems.”
“You should rest more.”
“What time is it?”
“Midnight. I waited until I was sure the twins had gone home before sneaking in,” she explained.
“Then I’ve had enough rest.”
She didn’t protest as he made his meaning clear. Neither of them slept after that.
Chapter 19
The next two weeks were the happiest of his life as Gram fell into a new routine. Most mornings he spent with Chad, learning to track or improving his archery, the afternoons were spent with Cyhan, and he would sleep immediately after the evening meal.
The nights belonged to Alyssa.
She would wait until most were asleep before padding quietly to his door, moving like a ghost. He made sure it was never locked or barred, and once she was inside the next five hours were theirs alone; a quiet paradise of darkness and soft kisses.
Only a few days remained before the formal Winter Ball. Lady Alyssa was rising reluctantly from the bed to dress while he watched appreciatively. She had taken to bringing a simple dress with her, so that if she did encounter someone in the hall during her return it wouldn’t seem quite so suspicious. She kept an extra in his wardrobe as well.
She looked at Gram, a speculative expression on her face, “How far do you suppose the wizard’s special vision lets them see?”
“Worried one of the twins might wake up before you sneak back one morning?” asked Gram.
“No, I was listening when they told you about your mother’s special privacy screens. Besides, their actual beds are far from here. Aren’t they?”
He levered himself up on his elbows. “How did you know that?”
“Moira mentioned it once,” she answered. “I had already noticed that their supposed apartments seemed rather stagnant and unused.”
That surprised him. The Illeniels were exceedingly cautious about letting that information out. Before the Count’s final battle with Mal’goroth, no one had known aside from a very few close friends and confidants. Even afterward, the people who had taken refuge through their magical portal were never told where the Illeniel family’s true home was located and they had been strongly discouraged from ever discussing the matter.
Being a foreigner he had assumed she would be ignorant of the matter, and Moira of all people would know better than to answer that question.
Then again, they have become close friends, he decided.
“I probably shouldn’t have said anything,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.
He blinked, “No, it’s fine. It’s just something we aren’t supposed to talk about.”
“Oh,” she replied, somewhat startled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I know you didn’t.”
“You don’t have to tell me about it. I know you trust me already.”
In fact he hadn’t intended to go any further with the conversation, but now that she had said that, he felt an impulse to show her just how much he did trust her. “It’s over a hundred miles to the west of here, close to the source of the Glenmae River, in the Elentirs.”
She frowned. “I just told you not to tell me.”
He grabbed her arm, pulling her back down onto the bed so he could lean over and kiss her. “I know. I just wanted to make sure you realized, just how much I trust you.”
Her eyes began to grow wet.
“I love you, Alyssa.”
“Stop, you shouldn’t say that. You hardly know me,” she protested.
He looked deep into her eyes, until it felt as if he was seeing beyond them, into her soul. There was pain there, a deeper hurt that he couldn’t understand, but he felt it nonetheless. He could also see the desperate need that she kept so well hidden, the need for him.
“I know you well enough, Alyssa Conradt. I can see the depth of you, your quiet strength and your secret vulnerability. Someday you will explain them to me, but for now, it’s enough that I love you, completely and unreservedly, and not just because you’re the first woman I have ever lain with.”
The words caused her eyes to fill, and tears began to spill onto her cheeks. “I knew you were a virgin, but you have yet to ask me…”
“Ask what?”
“About my lack—in that regard.”
He had noticed the lack of blood after their first night together, but had decided it was none of his concern. His grandmother had once told him her own story, something she had never even told his father. He was not fool enough to think that a maidenhead, or lack thereof, indicated
worth or value. “So long as you love only me, I care not for what came before.”
“Stop. No—I don’t deserve this. I’m not worthy of your love.” Her quiet tears became sobs.
“Why are you crying?” He was utterly confused.
“Because I do love you, and I shouldn’t!” She was clutching him now, with all the strength in her arms. “I’ve never felt like this before, not for anyone.”
“That’s good,” he said, smiling and stroking her hair. “Because once Mother returns, I’d like to introduce you to her. And then I’ll petition your father for your hand in marriage…if you’re willing.”
“No, Gram! No, no, no, no, no… you can’t do that. You don’t understand.”
“I understand love, and you’re the only one for me. How complicated can it be?”
She pushed him away, putting some space between them. “I was raped. Do you understand now?”
He felt an instant of rage, but there was no proper target for his anger, so he suppressed it. “Who did that to you?”
“One of my father’s friends, a trusted retainer,” she admitted. “He threatened me if I were to tell, and I already knew my future would be ruined.”
“He’s never been punished?”
She shook her head, “No. I never told. He came to my room more than once.”
The fire within Gram’s heart was threatening to become an inferno. “When was this?”
“I was twelve, and he plagued me until I was almost fourteen.”
“Where is he now?”
“Dead.”
“You said he wasn’t punished.”
She had withdrawn further, standing across the room from him now, close to the door. “It was a freak accident, a fall from a horse.”
“His death should have been far more painful.”
Alyssa started to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“Away.”
He leapt up from the bed, crossing the room to bar her path. “Why?”
“What do you mean why? You can’t love me, Gram. I’m not fit for you. Your mother will understand that, even if you’re too thick-headed to admit it. The last few weeks should have already shown you the truth. I might as well be a whore, except I’m too wanton to ask for payment.”
“Shut up,” he told her gently. “My grandmother was a whore, and I know full well that you aren’t one. Not only that, but I love my gran very much, just as my grandfather did. Don’t blame yourself for what someone else did to you.”
Her eyes were wide. “Your grandmother was… what?!”
He took a few minutes to tell her the story of his grandmother and the man he had been named after, including her near-tragic attempt to assassinate his grandfather.
“That’s an incredible story,” she admitted when he had finished.
“Then you should understand. I am a Thornbear. Nothing will stop my love for you, and you will only do us both harm if you attempt to forestall it.” He lifted her chin with his fingers, and when he lowered his lips to hers, she returned his kiss.
“I want to believe you.”
“You should know by now, it’s nearly impossible for me to lie successfully,” he told her.
She nodded, unable to speak, her throat closed. “Mmhmm.”
Some women were ugly when they cried, but Gram couldn’t help but find her beautiful. “Will you marry me, Alyssa?”
“Your mother will never allow that.”
“Yes she will.”
“No she won’t.”
“Fine. If she approves and your father consents, will you marry me?”
“It will never happen.”
“Let me worry about that. If they do, will you?”
She dried her cheeks with her sleeve, but the tears kept falling. “Yes,” she said at last. “Now stop asking me.” Then she ducked around him, beating a hasty retreat to the outer door. She was gone before he could recover. In her haste she failed to notice the button eyes watching her from the end of the hall.
Gram was left with a feeling of triumph and sorrow. He still couldn’t understand her reluctance, but he was determined. He would overcome any obstacle to ensure their happiness.
***
“What?” asked Chad.
“Why don’t you show me how you shot so fast that day?”
“What day?”
“The day we got in the fight.”
Chad sighed, “That ain’t somethin’ to be teachin’ ye.”
“Why not?”
“Cuz it will just ruin you. Ye have a fine eye and a steady hand with the bow but ye’re not goin’ to be that sort of bowman.”
Gram stared at him curiously, waiting for a better explanation.
“Listen, you ain’t got the time fer it. I know ye’re wantin’ to be a knight and ye’re already a noble. That sort of shootin’ requires devotion. Ye can’t just learn it an then remember it a year later when ye want. It takes daily practice to maintain. It’s just like rangin’ marks for battlefield archers.”
That was something he had shown Gram, along with an explanation of why it wasn’t something he should bother practicing. He had set up targets across a field, marking distances from fifty yards out to as far as two hundred. The hunter hadn’t hit the distant targets, but his arrows had come close as he launched them in parabolic arcs. He was able to switch to any given range and adjust his shot to drop the arrow within feet of it, if not directly on the target.
Gram’s shots had been far more random in how close they arrived. The smallest change in the angle of the shot could alter the distance the arrow traveled by fifty yards or more.
The archer had explained that for professional archers, ‘ranging’ was one of the most important types of practice, for it allowed them to shoot with their peers and drop volleys of arrows at the correct distance to hit oncoming troops.
“But it’s also something you have to practice every week. Your body changes, yer bow changes, and ye have to stay in tune with ‘em to maintain the ability to properly range yer shot. Stick to close target shooting, forty yards or less. Those skills keep much longer.”
The idea that some skills required constant practice simply to maintain them at a functional level, was a new concept to Gram. Apparently it also applied to speed shooting.
“Look,” said Chad. “I’ll show ye, slowly.”
Holding his bow forward with one hand, he reached back and pulled two arrows from the quiver, holding them between his fingers. He put the nock of one to the string, but he held it still without shooting. There was something odd about the position of his hand.
“Your hand is backwards,” said Gram, curious.
“Yeh,” said the hunter, “and the arrow is on the same side of the bow stave as me hand is.”
Ordinarily the shaft would be placed on the opposite side, so that the tension created by the draw would hold it flush against the bow. The way Chad was holding it now made no sense.
“Won’t it slip away to the side?”
“Not with my hand reversed, it keeps the tension on it the other way,” explained the older man. “I can nock it much faster this way, and after the first draw I can have the second on the string and away so fast ye’ll hardly know it was there.”
“It seems sort of clumsy, though.”
“It is, if ye don’t practice it and if ye try it fer anythin’ over twenty or thirty yards ye’ll just be wastin’ yer arrows. Those shots require a steady hand and careful aim. Also if ye get used to shootin’ like this, and ye don’t keep up your regular practice it can spoil yer form.”
“So I shouldn’t bother…”
“…Unless ye’re planning to devote yer life to the bow it ain’t worth it,” finished Chad. “Stick to straight shots an’ a three finger draw. Engrave that on yer heart and when ye need it, yer body’ll know what to do, without gettin’ confused.”
Chapter 20
A small form caught his attention a few minutes before the noon meal.
&nb
sp; “Hello, Grace.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” asked the bear.
It wasn’t her usual casual greeting, so Gram stopped and looked at her curiously. Lifting her, he answered, “Sure.”
“In private?”
“It’s almost time for lunch.”
“It won’t take too long, but I don’t want anyone to overhear,” she said seriously.
He took her outside, to give them some distance from anyone else. “What’s wrong?”
“I saw something this morning, by accident, and it has me a little worried.”
His body tensed. “What did you see?”
“You know, I don’t really sleep. So I was walking…”
“…and?”
“I saw Alyssa leaving your apartment.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
She shook her head, “No, but I don’t think your mother will be happy if she…”
“It’s none of her business!”
“You’re her son.”
“That doesn’t give her leave to control my life,” said Gram.
“What if something happens? If you are caught her reputation will be ruined. What if she gets pregnant?”
“I don’t care, Grace. I’m going to marry her.”
“You hardly know her. What of her parents?”
“They will give us their blessing.”
“How do you know that?” she asked him.
“Because they have to, and if they don’t…” Gram’s face took on a stubborn look, “…they have to.”
“But…”
“I love her, Grace. Nothing will keep me from her.” He stared at the small bear intently, “Are you going to tell?”
She struggled with the decision for a moment and then at last she responded, “No.” I can’t think of anyone to tell that it wouldn’t make this worse.
“Thank you.” With that he set her down gently and went back inside. It was time to eat.
***
Matthew wanted to talk to him after the evening meal.
Thornbear (Book 1) Page 17