His furry snout was mere inches away from my face. A drop of saliva hit my cheek, but I could not reach up to wipe it away. This was too horribly like my dream, when the wolves set upon me and savaged my throat. I feared, however, that no one would wake me to allow me to escape from this nightmare.
“Phelan, please,” I whispered. “I know you are in there somewhere, listening to me. This is not you. It is part of you, just as it is part of me, but it is not all of you.”
The wolf went very still. His weight on me was growing increasingly painful, but I knew I dared not shift even a fraction of an inch. The golden eyes bored into mine, and yet, I thought I saw a flicker of something there, something which was not a wolf.
Or was I only trying to fool myself into believing there might still be some hope for him?
“This is why we were meant to be with one another,” I went on, ignoring the icy dampness of the cloak on which I lay, the bruising weight of the wild animal that held me pinned to the ground. “You recognized that wildness in me, knew it was the one thing you needed, even if you did not know precisely why. I am not telling you to deny the wolf, for it is beautiful in its own way. But you must be its master, just as you are Linsi and Doxen’s master. Do you see?”
The wolf growled again. I could smell the stink of its breath, see the bloodshot rims around the golden eyes. There was nothing of my husband in those eyes. This had all been a fool’s errand. He would kill me, just as the wolf had killed me in my dream. And I would be buried in the snow and no one would ever know where my body lay.
Because I did not know what else to do, I breathed out a single word, just as I had in my dream.
“Please….”
A long, long moment passed. I dared not look away from the wolf’s golden eyes, even though it hurt not to blink, hurt to keep staring up at him. And then I watched as that gold began to dim, turned dark, even as the darkness of his fur grew pale, seemed to alter and lengthen, and became the body of the man I loved.
Phelan Greymount lay there naked in the snow. I let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob, and pulled him to me before pushing us both up from the snowy ground. He looked at me in confusion, his teeth already beginning to chatter.
“What — ” he began, and I shook my head.
“You are yourself again, my love. But we must get you back inside.” I unbuttoned the cloak I wore and began to pull it from my shoulders.
“No, Bettany, you cannot — ”
“I am fully clothed, and have on stout boots and a scarf. We are not so far from the castle that I should suffer much harm by doing without for a few minutes. Please, my love. Take it.”
A pause, and then he reluctantly slung the cloak around his shoulders, even as I bent and lifted the lantern. He looked from me to the bright orb of the moon overhead, his features a study in wonder and confusion. “But — ”
“It no longer has any power over you, Phelan. But please come.”
His eyes were filled with questions, but it seemed he had come back to himself enough to understand that we must get inside as quickly as possible. The going was slightly easier, now that the snow no longer fell. Even so, I feared that his feet would be badly frostbitten by the time we reached shelter. I could do nothing about that, however, except hurry him along, glad of the moon lighting our way. Only a few minutes passed before I could see the bulk of Harrow Hall rising before us, the warm candlelight in its windows serving as beacons to guide us home.
And then there was the small door in the outer wall opening, a rectangle of golden warmth that spurred us to hurry those last few yards. Master Merryk waited for us there, shock clear on his features.
But he was not so shocked that he had not prepared for our return, even if he hadn’t believed I would succeed. He guided Phelan down the corridor that led to his own rooms, where the fire burned hotter than ever, and a basin of warm water was waiting to bring the life back to his master’s poor battered feet.
“Drink this, my lord,” Master Merryk said, handing Phelan a cup of cherbeg. Yes, that should be just the thing. Its fire would bring some much-needed heat to my husband’s chilled body.
With a shaking hand, Phelan took the cup from his steward, then downed its contents. “More,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Master Merryk fetched more, and again my husband drank. I looked on anxiously, worried that I might not have gotten Phelan into the shelter of the castle before he suffered permanent damage.
But then he handed his steward the empty cup and glanced over at me. I could see no spark of gold in his eyes, although his gaze was warm enough as his eyes met mine. Improbably, his mouth lifted in a smile.
“The storm is over, is it not?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, relief flooding through me. “Yes, I believe it is.”
* * *
Truly, the snow had gone. We woke to blue skies and sunshine. I sensed that Phelan had not yet recovered enough to be with me as a husband might be with his wife, but it was enough to hold one another, for me to feel the amazing human beauty of his body pressed against mine. And it was joy uncounted to have him whisper, his face buried in my hair, “You have saved me, Bettany. You have brought me back to myself, and so to you.”
Perhaps I could be forgiven for weeping after he told me that.
But although the storm had finally dissipated, there was still much work to be done. Phelan set his men to shoveling out the courtyard, and clearing the area directly in front of the castle’s main gates.
“Not that I expect anyone to come visiting any time soon,” he commented as we stood in one of the upstairs galleries and watched the men-at-arms throwing great shovelfuls of snow to either side. “But we should at least make the attempt to have it seem as if all is normal here.”
“I will need to go visit my grandmother as soon as I can,” I said. Yes, I was beyond happy that my husband had been restored to me, and yet I had left connections and responsibilities behind me in Kerolton. I could not neglect them now simply because Phelan’s condition was no longer a concern.
“Of course, my love,” he replied. “I know that. And as soon as I deem it safe, we will both go. I would like to meet this grandmother of yours so I might thank her for raising such a redoubtable granddaughter.”
“Oh, so I am redoubtable, am I?” I returned, looping my arm through his.
“You know you are, my remarkable, wonderful Bettany. You refused to give up, even though I had long ago.”
“I would say that was more me being stubborn,” I said, then went up on my tiptoes so I might kiss him on the cheek. “Or perhaps ignorant. You had been fighting against your fate for many years, whereas it was all very new to me. I did not know better.”
“Then thank the gods for your ignorance, if that is what you wish to call it. Because without you — ”
He broke off there, dark eyes haunted, and I immediately put my arms around his waist so I could hold him close. “But the gods did send me to you, Phelan,” I said. “I will admit that I have not had much use for them prior to this, but I can think of no other reason why I would have come here.”
A corner of his mouth lifted, and I was glad to see some portion of his usual insouciance return to his manner. “I thought you came here to beg me to pay your taxes.”
“To allow me extra time to pay my taxes,” I said, my tone mock-severe. “I most certainly did not ask you to pay them for me.”
“Ah, I suppose that is the truth of it. I know you have a difficult time asking for anything from anyone. A handout is certainly not something you would willingly ask of anyone.”
“I would think not,” I replied with some indignation. “I would never have expected such a thing.”
“Of course you would not,” Phelan said with a smile. “But I will pay those taxes, since you are now my wife, and it is my duty. And my pleasure,” he added, then bent down and kissed me.
I had not even thought of that. But because he was my husband, my obligat
ions were now his as well.
I could only hope they would all be so easy to discharge.
* * *
It was nearly a ten-day after the Great Storm — as everyone had taken to calling it — had passed before both Master Merryk and my husband agreed that the weather seemed calm and clear enough to risk the journey to Kerolton. During that time, my moon-courses had come and gone, telling me I was not yet with child…and also reassuring both Phelan and myself that he could be around me while I was in such a state and not succumb to his wolf nature. This greatly reassured the two of us. As for the other matter, well, I wished very much to have his child, but I did not mind waiting just a little while. It was good for the two of us to know one another as husband and wife before we also must be acquainted with each other as parents.
We set out for Kerolton on a fine day, with the sun shining down upon us and a pleasant wind at our backs. The weather had been nowhere near warm enough to even begin to melt the massive snow drifts that had piled up during the Great Storm, but the going was easier than I had feared, the sturdy horses we rode making their way across the wintry landscape without flagging.
When the trees of the Sarisfell woods appeared in the distance, I felt my heart lift, for I knew we did not have that much farther to go. We had already decided to go to my grandmother’s cottage first. If she had abandoned it during the storm, by this time she would most likely have returned, as long as the place was still habitable. And if not, then we would head off to look for her in the village.
I would not let my mind go any further than that. I had to believe she was safe, that she had taken refuge in Kerolton before the storm grew too fierce.
Our party was small enough; Phelan and myself and four of his men-at-arms. Master Merryk had remained behind to keep watch on Harrow Hall — as well as to make sure the repairs on the castle would continue in a timely manner. Once we had entered the forest, I took the lead, as I was the only one who knew the location of our destination.
But when we entered the clearing where my grandmother’s cottage stood, I found myself pulling the horse I rode to an abrupt stop. For the cottage was a ruin of broken plaster and splintered timbers, the only thing still standing the chimney, and even that had become a sad stub, half its bricks tumbled into a pile in the snow.
Although I had feared something like this, seeing the reality of it was enough to bring a strangled sob to my throat. Phelan spurred his horse forward and came up beside me. “My love,” he said, “I am sure your grandmother is safe. You yourself told me that most likely she would have sheltered in the village once she saw how bad the storm had become.”
I could but nod, as I did not trust myself to speak. In that moment, I was glad of the presence of the men-at-arms, for if I had been alone with Phelan, I had no doubt I would have burst into tears.
After swallowing past the thickness in my throat, I said, “You are right, my husband. We will go there now, and no doubt we will find her teaching Master Willar’s daughters how to spin properly, for I know that his wife is none too gifted at the task.”
“I am sure of that, dear wife,” Phelan said. “You may continue to lead, as you know the way better than the rest of us.”
I blinked back the remnants of my tears, then nodded as I turned my horse around. Once again we made our way through the winter woods, although the sun was not quite as fine and bright in here among the thickets of pine and fir. But the paths were clear enough, seeming to indicate that people had been coming and going in this area, probably to gather firewood and to hunt what squirrels and rabbits they could find.
After a few more minutes, we came out of the woods and into the open fields that surrounded the village. Here, the snow looked more or less untouched, except for paths that appeared to have been laboriously carved through the heavy snow. I also spotted the tracks of deer and other woodland creatures, showing that not all had perished in the Great Storm.
And then I saw smoke rising from the chimneys of the village houses, pale against the hard blue sky. As we approached, I was relieved to note that the buildings here appeared to have fared better than my grandmother’s cottage. Yes, snow was piled up in enormous drifts everywhere I looked, but the doorways were clear. Many of the houses had their windows boarded up, a necessary precaution against the weight of the accumulating snow. But the smoke told me that people had survived. There was life here.
I guided my horse toward Amery Willar’s home, thinking it was with him I would receive the most favorable reception, even if my grandmother had ended up sheltering elsewhere. We came to a stop in front of his house, where a narrow path had been carved out between the drifts blocking his boarded-up windows.
Phelan dismounted first, then came to me so he could help me down from the saddle. I had been given a docile horse to ride and so had fared well enough on the journey here, but I was still awkward on horseback, as of course my grandmother and I had been too poor to own a horse or even a pony, and so I had never learned to ride with any degree of skill.
The feel of my husband’s strong, gloved fingers reassured me somewhat, and I settled my cloak on my shoulders and smoothed the front of my gown before stepping forward so I might knock on the door. A long pause followed that knock. I cast a nervous glance at Phelan, but he only smiled, head cocked to one side, as if amused by my impatience.
Then the door opened, and Amery Willar stared out at me, blue eyes widening so much that I feared they might pop out of his head. “B-Bettany?”
“Yes, Master Willar. I am glad to see that you appear to have weathered the storm well enough. May we come in?”
At the word “we,” Amery’s gaze shifted past me to Phelan. The richness of my husband’s dress, and the band of silver that held his heavy dark hair back from his brow, made his identity clear enough. If possible, Master Willar’s eyes widened even further. “M-my lord?”
“Yes, Master Willar,” Phelan said. “I am Lord Greymount. Mistress Sendris took refuge in my keep during the storm, and now she has some news for her grandmother. Is she here?”
“Why, yes, she is, my lord,” Amery replied, and a great rush of relief went over me. Ever since I had seen the ruin of the cottage, I had feared the worst, but it seemed I would not have to mourn her after all. “My youngest brought her here when the snow began to fall so thickly, and she has sheltered with us the entire time.” He paused, then waved a hand, ushering us inside. “But here I am talking while you stand out in the cold. Please come in, my lord.”
Phelan offered him a pleasant smile, then took my hand and brought me into the house. I had been there once or twice; we now stood in the small entry hall, and two short corridors led off in opposite directions, one toward the wing where the bedrooms were located, and the other toward the more public areas of the house — the sitting room and dining room and kitchen. From that direction I heard the sound of voices, and it was there that Amery led us, looking back over his shoulder from time to time, as if he could not quite believe the evidence of his own eyes.
Although they had not been invited in, the men-at-arms came inside as well, although they waited in the entryway rather than accompanying us to the sitting room. Just as well, for the place would have been quite crowded if they had attempted to squeeze in there with us and the rest of Amery’s family.
The sitting room was good-sized chamber, with a large fireplace on one wall and a floor of smoothly sanded oak. Gathered around the hearth was a group of women — Amery’s wife and daughters. Sitting in the center of all of them was a woman with sleek, grey-streaked hair, a woman who turned along with all the rest of them to see who had just entered the room.
Her hand went to her mouth. She had been holding a drop spindle and a fluffy bunch of carded wool, but they both fell to the floor as she caught sight of me. Her face was pale. Indeed, she had the appearance of someone who had just seen a ghost. Not so strange, I supposed, for she must have surely thought me dead, perished weeks ago in the howling blizzard that had swept do
wn upon us all.
I let go of Phelan’s hand and moved forward, my skirts of fine wool whispering over the wooden floor. Standing behind my grandmother was Amery’s daughter Vianna; her eyes narrowed as she cast an envious glance at the rich clothing I wore. Yes, it was quite out of date, but still finer than anything she owned.
“I am so glad you were able to take refuge here,” I said to my grandmother, doing my best to ignore the stares from the female members of Amery’s family. His two boys must have been out hunting or perhaps gathering wood for the fire. “Just as I was able to take refuge in Harrow Hall.”
My grandmother’s gaze flicked toward Phelan and back to me. “So you were able to reach the castle safely.”
“Yes,” I said. Perhaps later I would tell her how I had nearly perished in the cold before Phelan’s men found me, but I saw no reason to go into such detail right then, for I thought that information would only upset her unnecessarily. “I did wait out the storm there, and was given all consideration and kindness. Indeed” — I paused then, and sent a quick glance toward my husband. He inclined his head, encouraging me to continue — “indeed, I was made so welcome that Lord Greymount and I formed quite an attachment. We were married a little more than a fortnight ago.”
This declaration elicited a gasp from the members of Amery’s family, while the man himself gave me another of those pop-eyed stares. My grandmother went very still, then stood up straighter as she looked past me to the lord of Harrow Hall.
“You love her?” she asked.
Another gasp from the assemblage. Clearly, they did not possess the courage to have asked such a question, and so were shocked to see that my grandmother apparently did.
Quite calmly, Phelan replied, “More than life itself. Indeed, she is my life. I thank the gods daily, for they were the ones who sent her to me.”
The Wolf of Harrow Hall (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 7) Page 19