Gatehouse (The Gwenyre Caryra Chronicles Book 1)

by Bree Aguiar

  “So I learned to be like him. Kind. Gentle. Understanding. And I started letting him do most of the work around the village, which has really saved me some time.” He smirked at that last comment, his small attempt at humor to lighten the situation. She shared in his smile but stayed silent, knowing the man had more to say.

  “I learned and I’m a much different person now. I actively try to be a good man, though I know I’m not one. Not really. So sometimes a flash of the old me, my true nature, comes out. I like to think I’m more than that, and I know I’ll never be as kind or as gentle as my brother. But I’ve convinced myself that I’ve learned to hold at least a portion of his nature. Even if it is just play acting or a farce. Underneath it all, I’m cruel but I can try to be better.”

  Gwenyre found herself pitying the man as he turned to face the window again, looking towards the forest, which was now pitch-black, the moon hiding behind a thick cloud. She admired his honesty and effort to become someone better, but she also knew the difficulty of it all – the impossibility. How can someone truly change who they are? She didn’t think she could do it. She could try to be more patient, less quick to anger, less full of pride. She could attempt to be more outgoing, more subservient, more selfless. But that wasn’t who she was – and trying would be just as he said: a farce.

  She also silently wondered why he bothered: to protect himself, maybe? To honor his brother, the source of his admiration? To make himself seen as a better ruler and person by the world? Or was it because he truly wanted to change? She couldn’t answer those questions but told herself to stop asking them. He’s a better man, she scolded herself. No matter what he says, he’s shown you true gentleness and empathy. He’s not cruel or cold. Arrogant, maybe. But that’s not cruel. He is not Sylvan.

  Taking the silence of her thoughts as awkwardness, Sampson tried to lighten the mood again. “If I’m unkind to you again, I’ve found a quick smack usually does the trick. Don’t shy away, I doubt your tiny little hands can do much damage.”

  She laughed, her face only turning slightly pink at the comment. “If I were to smack you every time you made a rude comment, I’d have to begin this instant and not stop until the sun came up!” He smirked at that, his eyes lighting up with an admiration for this girl’s tenacity and quick wit.

  “Well, I hate to cut the evening short,” he said after a shared look. “But I think it might be time for bed. I believe it’s safe for you now.” Though she was glad to finally be free after what felt like hours, she was a little sad to go; she didn’t think she’d have a chance to speak with Sampson like this again. He was a Lord, after all – a guest here at Gatehouse. She was just a servant, a prisoner.

  She stood up to leave as he walked her to the door, unlocking the bolt. She looked at him one last time before she left, noticing his eyes travelling over her face. He looked as if he wanted to say something, to do something, but instead he just gave a slight smile and pointed her to a path she hadn’t noticed earlier. “The kitchens are that way,” he said. “Good night.” He closed the door behind her gently, and she headed back to the Dwelling. The women’s dorm was filled with the sounds of heavy sleep when she arrived. Not even Aimee or Wind were awake. Which was fine by her; she fell right into her bed and fell asleep before she had a chance to think about the many strange occurrences of her evening.

  * * *

  Following her first horrible meeting with Sylvan, the rest were relatively uneventful for Gwenyre. She continued to go to his office once a week and sit with him as he questioned her about her life outside of Gatehouse: her family, their friends, their enemies. The interrogations became repetitive, with him just changing a few words or phrases in the hopes of pulling more from her. Once in a while, he would take notes in that leather-bound journal, though that was an infrequent occurrence. He continued to require her presence, regardless of the lack of satisfaction he seemed to get from her answers. She refused to drink anymore of the horrid tea, much to Sylvan’s chagrin, but she wanted to avoid getting sick again. Regardless, he eventually stopped offering it after a few weeks. The meetings were pointless, but they were at least more boring than she expected. He kicked her out quickly each time, sometimes after only ten minutes, but he never went further than verbally berating her for being useless. She thanked the stars for this small mercy as she made her long walk back to the Dwelling each time.

  She never ran into Sampson on those nights again, though she purposely found herself walking through that now familiar hall on her journey home each time. In her heart of hearts, Gwenyre wanted to run into him. She wanted another chance to learn about him, and maybe this time tell him more about herself. She knew she shouldn’t want that; she was, after all, an inmate at Gatehouse and far from a suitable acquaintance for a Lord, but she couldn’t help herself from taking that long route home. She didn’t, however, enter the Study again. Though she wanted to check for him there on those nights, she never found the nerve to push that door open. Rather, each Friday evening, she’d walk over and place her ear on it to listen in, hoping to hear anything but the inevitable silence, before heading back to the Dwelling and resigning to never speak with Lord Sampson like that again.

  It was part of the pattern that was becoming her life at Gatehouse. Each day was generally the same, depending on her and Ametrine’s service assignments. She’d go to work, have lunch with the girls, work some more, then have dinner. Sometimes with Cyran, depending on if he could be found. There were many times when they scoured the entire Mess Hall looking for him, just to learn he had taken his meal elsewhere. The girls didn’t know where he was or why he was absent, but they never questioned it when they saw him next. When he was there, they would sit and laugh together with Cyran listening intently to each of them. But he always appeared to look more deeply at Gwenyre, as if sizing her up. Trying to determine what she was thinking and how he could help. The meals with him were some of Gwenyre’s favorite, and she surprisingly found herself getting comfortable with her new life as a servant. Against all odds, she found parts of this place to be a comfort to her. And some days, when she tried to think about going home, she wondered if it was worth it to give it all up.

  14 (SOME) GOOD NEWS

  One morning a few months after Gwenyre’s arrival at Gatehouse, Miz Norethebo greeted her with good news. “You’ll be getting your permanent assignment today,” she announced when the girls arrived in the Stables just as the sun finished rising. “I’ll be told at lunch, so I’ll let you know in the afternoon.” Norethebo didn’t seem too happy, but she always had a general grumpiness about her. Gwenyre wasn’t sure if she was just being her usual self, or if she was sad to see the elf go. The two generally got along, with Gwenyre always showing up on time and getting her work done. She received few criticisms from the half-troll, though she seldom received much praise from her either. Even if she doesn’t miss me, Gwenyre thought to herself smiling, I’ll miss her. A least, a little. But it’ll be nice to work for someone who actually appreciates it.

  She was thinking, of course, of Master Phillipe, who continued his acclaim for her work each time they were assigned to the Stables. She knew he’d probably requested her and was happy to begin working there daily. He’d promised her that she could even take the horses out for the occasional ride, once she was put on the Stables full time. Perhaps he’d let her out as early as tomorrow! She truly missed the feeling of a galloping horse beneath her, breathing in the fresh summer air with the wind on her face.

  The thought of it widened her smile as Ametrine, yawning, came up to her after being spoken to by the centaur. Though he was not a disciplinarian, he’d been giving the girl some criticisms lately which Gwenyre suspected was the source of Ametrine’s scowl. “What’re you so happy about then?” the girl asked grumpily.

  “You didn’t hear? Miz Norethebo says I’m getting permanently assigned tomorrow!”

  Ametrine’s face dropped even more. “No!” she exclaimed loudly. Everyone in the room turned to figur
e out what the noise was about, but Ametrine barely noticed their staring. “We’re going to get separated! What will I do all day without you?!”

  Gwenyre did feel bad about that, but she promised Aimee they’d still see each other every day. “Plus, they’ll be days you’re assigned here,” she reminded her gently.

  “Please,” Ametrine scoffed. “Nora only forced me to come here because you were so good at it. She hates the horses almost as much as I do. I’ll pretty much be at the House again until some other newbie comes by and I’ll have to take her under my wing.”

  Gwenyre rolled her eyes at the girl, though not cruelly. “Well, at least you don’t have to deal with the smell anymore. And like I said, we’ll see each other every day. Just don’t you dare think of trying to replace me, Ametrine!” She added that last line to make the girl’s scowl disappear, which worked as intended. Ametrine laughed at that, promising it would never happen.

  The girls stopped their conversation when Master Phillipe clopped by, shooting a quick look their way. The morning passed by quickly for Gwenyre, who couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she swept the floors, fed the horses, and gathered up bales of hay. Right before lunch, the centaur approached Gwenyre to sing her praises once again. “You do very good work. We’ve been lucky to have you.”

  Gwen smiled at this, thanking him for his kind words. “I’ve loved every second of it,” she said in return. “Truly.”

  Upon hearing this, Phillipe placed one of his burly hands on her shoulder. “Thank you, Gwenyre. You should head to lunch now. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

  The elf nodded and went to find Ametrine, which took some time as the girl was hiding in an empty stall taking a nap on a bale of hay. Gwenyre shook her awake briskly, though she wasn’t as annoyed as she’d normally be. Nothing could bring down her mood as they walked to the Mess Hall together, one with a skip in her step and the other trying her hardest just to stay awake.

  The girls found Wyndemere waiting outside for them and they headed into the lunch service together. When they looked around for a table, they saw a sight they were not expecting: Cyran waving at them. He usually was nowhere to be found during lunch, but they were happy to join him. Gwenyre’s good mood continued as she sat down, and it lifted even more when he told her why he was there.

  “I’ve got good news,” he greeted them. “It took some doing, and it’s not exactly what I initially had in mind, but I’ve found someone to work with Gwenyre on her magic.”

  After so many weeks of taboo against the mention of the topic, Gwenyre had almost forgotten about Cyran’s promise to her. When her Thrashings with Gurney ended, she no longer had to think about controlling anything and had chalked the whole thing up to a fever dream. Ametrine and Wyndemere never brought it up either as promised, so it was easy to pretend like it didn’t exist. But it all quickly became real again. Gwenyre assumed she would have felt fear when the topic came up again, but her good mood apparently couldn’t be affected. Instead, she oddly felt a sort of excitement, though it didn’t match that of Ametrine.

  “Who?” Ametrine asked, before Gwenyre could even open her mouth. “Will we all get to meet them? When can she start? Can I be there?” The girl asked a million questions, never once pausing to even take a breath. Cyran hushed her gently, the good-humored exhaustion with her juvenile behavior palpable.

  “Let’s let Gwenyre ask the first questions, dear,” he scolded, though not unkindly. Ametrine, whose clear crush on Cyran had still not diminished even after a few months, turned crimson red. She bashfully agreed, turning to Gwenyre to await her reaction.

  Gwenyre was used to Ametrine taking the lead, so she didn’t have much else to say. She just repeated the girl’s first question. “Who is it?”

  Cyran said that he couldn’t tell them, at least not yet. “Their ability is a secret to most of the world. Just like you, which is a good thing. They’ll be able to relate. I can tell you that they’re a witch, however, and not an elf. Their magic is going to work a little differently, but they’ve assured me that they know the theories. They asked to meet you tonight, in the little Clearing a mile past the Dwelling.” Ametrine looked excited and began to open her mouth before Cyran added one other word. “Alone.”

  Aimee and Wind looked disappointed, but Gwenyre’s nervousness made her teeth chatter. “Alone?” As summer was coming to a close, the sky was beginning to turn dark much earlier each day. After dinner it would be pitch black, and the only way to get to the Clearing was through a path in the dense forest. She’d been there before, helping gather wood for the Lumber Yard while on their service, and it was not an easy route to take during the day. Never mind at night, alone, preparing to meet a stranger with a secret magical ability. The fear that she thought she had avoided was now slowly creeping up. She forced herself to try to swallow it down.

  “I’ll be watching out for you, little one. You won’t know it, and they won’t either, but I’ll be there. But you two,” he turned to address the others now. “You two cannot. You have loud feet and even louder mouths. No offense.”

  The other girls were not offended, mostly because he was correct, but they were disappointed. Cyran explained that it was hard enough to get this witch to agree to meet with an elf at Gatehouse, never mind revealing their secrets to two others. “But when I told them who you were, and the extent of what I thought your powers were, they agreed at once. We can’t jeopardize that for a glimpse, I’m sorry.” Ametrine and Wyndemere said they understood but expected Gwenyre to tell them everything when she got back that night.

  “Not the witch’s name or anything!” Wind said to Cyran’s objections. “Just what you learned, of course.” Cyran agreed that was fine, but Gwenyre was far from fine with it all.

  “I’m still just a little scared is all. Can we even trust this witch?” Witches were not usually on good terms with elves and generally kept to themselves. Why would this stranger want to help an inmate at Gatehouse? Unless there was some sinister reason…

  Cyran assured her it would be fine. “I’ve known of them for a while; while they weren’t exactly my first choice, they’re close enough. I trust them, and you will learn to as well. You’ll see. Just head to the Clearing tonight and remember that I’ll be watching and protecting you.”

  Gwen finally agreed, trying to dispel her fears, when she realized what night it was. “I can’t,” she exclaimed. “I have my meeting with Sylvan!”

  The words left her mouth before she even had a chance to think about it. Ametrine and Wyndemere quickly shot her looks filled with shock. Seeing their faces in conjunction with the look of anger in Cyran’s eyes, the elf realized her mistake. “Oh no,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”

  Cyran banged the table loudly with his hand, causing heads to turn their way. “What does that bastard want with you? When did he approach you?” Gwenyre quickly tried to fix the situation by explaining everything, apologizing for keeping it from the old elf.

  “But he hasn’t touched me,” she promised. “All he does is grumble and ask me odd questions. It only takes about a half hour, but it’s every Friday evening. I don’t mind the meetings, really. But I don’t think I should be missing them.”

  Upon hearing her explanation, Cyran was able to calm down. But only a little. Gwenyre could still tell he was seething and would bet the man was planning some sort of revenge for the High Warden. She spoke up again quickly to fix the situation. “I swear; it’s really nothing. Please promise me that you won’t do anything about it, Cyran. Don’t do something stupid over nothing. That’s the only reason we didn’t tell you in the first place.”

  Cyran silently fumed as he gathered his thoughts. “I’ll deal with the deception later,” he said. His voice calmed significantly as he expressed his disappointment in the girls. “I understand what you did, but I didn’t think you three were capable of lying to me.”

  Ametrine butted in to defend them. “It wasn’t really a lie… it was more
of an omission.” That earned her a sharp look, which made her yelp quietly and scrunch down in her chair as if to hide from the old elf’s anger. He sighed, calming himself once again.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to berate you or accuse you of anything. I just don’t trust Sylvan and I want to be able to protect you.” He turned directly to Gwenyre, looking her straight in the eye. She felt a chill at his intensity as he spoke to her in his low, calm voice. “But I can’t do that if you don’t let me. From now on, I need you to tell me everything he says to you. In these meetings, in run-ins in the halls, every single thing. I promise you; I won’t do anything stupid. I’m much smarter than you give me credit for, little one. But I must know – for all of our sakes.”

  Gwenyre promised to be honest with him from now on, as long as he promised not to react hot-headedly. He laughed at this stipulation, easing some of the tension that had filled the table. “Do I usually come off as hot-headed as you?” he asked playfully. She blushed as the other girls also agreed to be honest from now on.

  “Good,” he said with a slight smile, allowing ease to come back to the conversation. “You can meet your teacher after your meeting with the brute. It was planned for eleven o’clock anyway. Weirdly, the witch mentioned that would be the only time that worked for ‘all parties.’” Cyran shook his head in wonderment before continuing. “But I need you to tell me everything that’s happened at your meetings with Sylvan. At dinner tonight. I’ll be sure to meet you here and you can tell me everything you’ve discussed. What he asked, what you answered. I have a feeling it’s important. There’s more to Sylvan and his so-called special interest than I think you know. I just have to figure out what it is…” His voice trailed off as he began to lose himself in his thoughts.

  Gwenyre promised she’d tell him everything that evening when the bell tolled, telling them to get back to work. Gwen would finally be given her permanent assignment with Master Phillipe in the Stables. Her good mood returning, she smiled broadly at Cyran as she wished him a good afternoon.