She smirked and nodded before untying the rest of her bag and handing it to him. “Still. Here. This is our thanks.”
He pulled open the bag, for it felt much heavier than the twenty gold she’d promised him, and as he stared inside, his brows knit together in confusion. “Lady, this isn’t right. There’s…at least…fifty gold pieces in here.”
Keturah glanced to Alvaro who only smiled down at his food and kept eating. She looked back to the inn keeper and said, “Well, then it’s extra for putting up with the overgrown fleabag sorcerer.”
The ‘fleabag sorcerer’ frowned at her. “That was rather unkind, Isabella.”
She just shot him a look. “You were late.”
Alvaro finished his food and stood up, laughing just a bit. “Let’s head…home, then. Jacob, are you ready?”
Jacob looked up at him and grinned, and Alvaro tried not to smile because he knew how ugly it made him appear, but Jacob didn’t seem to mind at all.
“Yes, father.”
Alvaro and Keturah both stopped dead in their tracks and looked to the child with alarm. The Beast smiled secretively beneath his hood to himself as the boy blushed and ducked his head.
“The Beast said that mother was promised to you…so that now you would be my father.” Alvaro looked caught somewhere between sheepish and smiling and unsure, glancing to Keturah who just stared at the darkness under the Dark Sorcerer’s hood.
“I did nothing,” the Beast swore and held up his hands inoffensively.
Keturah approached him, and he watched her with a wry smile before the little vixen gave a sound kick in just the right spot to one of the legs of his chair, and it, along with his form, crumpled to the ground. He gave a great shout of alarm as he crashed, and Keturah left without another word while Jacob laughed and the inn keeper looked out the door at Keturah when she disappeared from sight.
“She must be something of a powerful magician to challenge you like that,” he said warily.
The cloaked figure merely laughed and stood, rubbing his sore back. “No, no. Just very damn sure I won’t eat her. Impudent child.” He sighed and looked to Alvaro. “Come then. Let us be on our way.”
The chair righted itself and mended as they left the inn. A carriage awaited them, Keturah having already climbed in and waiting. The Beast sat down at the coach and grabbed the reigns, waiting on boy and Guardian. Jacob climbed in and tucked himself right up against Keturah who put her arm around him and kissed his brow. Alvaro sat across from her, watching her warily as the doors shut, Jacob’s words still on his mind, and his heart nervous with Keturah’s reaction.
Keturah, however, looked over at him with a wry little smile and a glint of warmth in her eyes before looking out the window as the carriage pulled away.
Chapter Twenty
Jacob was sound asleep by the time they reached the manor. Keturah dragged him out of the carriage and hoisted him up with difficulty before Alvaro took the boy and carried him in one arm as if he were a pillow. The woman frowned up at him but didn’t complain, following Alvaro out of the carriage and into the manor.
It was late. Two and a half days of a carriage ride to reach the manor, and they were all tired and sore. Alvaro’s wounds were healing, but he needed rest and medical attention. Keturah just needed to be kept away from society before she killed anyone else. Thankfully, she was placated in the darkness and didn’t make a sound as they moved inside, coming out from the cover of the blanket of stars and into their home.
The manor itself was renewed with its master home once more. Every broken window righted. The floors straightened. The whole place pulled itself back together and waited, eager to serve.
Alvaro laid the child on his bed when they reached the rooms, and he paused, letting Keturah move past him to tend to her son. “If you need anything…you need only to ask.”
Keturah glanced over at him and nodded before saying, “Go sleep. You’re swaying.” He gave a small smile and cupped the back of her head, kissing her brow before he righted himself and left the room. She watched him for a moment before turning and giving Jacob her attention. She pulled off his boots and vest, dragging the covers up over him and tucking him in.
Then, she left his room and found her own, lit with the warmth of candlelight and waiting for her. She stripped and sank into the hot bath first, leaving only her eyes and nose out of the water while she soaked. She nearly fell asleep a few times before finally sitting up and scrubbing herself until her skin was red and sore and her hair protested such violent treatment by tangling in her fingers.
She got out and dried off, drying her hair as best she could with her towel and sitting by the fire to brush it out. She stared at the white pieces around her face, watching them catch the golden glow of flames. She turned them this way and that, curious and not sure if she was displeased. Either way, she pushed her hair back and stood, finding nightclothes laid out for her. Keturah ignored the clothes and grabbed the robe, pulling it on and padding, bare-footed, out of her room and down the hall.
She should not have been able to get into Alvaro’s room. The door was locked, and he specifically ordered his magic to keep everyone out. The Dark Sorcerer tried to offer him medical assistance, but Alvaro had grumbled something about wringing his neck and wouldn’t open the door. The Beast chose to leave him well enough alone and retired to his own rooms. But when Keturah approached the door, the latch clicked, and the door pulled open just a crack. She slipped her fingers through the space and pulled the door quietly.
His bedroom was large with tall, vaulted ceilings and wooden floors. A bed large enough to fit two of Alvaro nestled itself in the far corner by a small table with an oil lamp. There was a desk on the far side of the room, and against the adjacent wall was a fireplace not unlike the one she had sat beside for hours in his study. She wondered now if they were the same fireplace on different sides. Before the fire, a metal tub she could swim in was filled with steaming water and a soaking creature trying to ease the pain of his wounds and injured muscles, knowing that he would not sleep without some sort of relief.
The woman entered carefully and shut the door behind her where the lock slipped into place once more. “Have you fallen asleep?” she asked quietly, making her way towards the fireplace.
Alvaro gave a start in the bath and sat up, turning around to look at her. “How did you get in here?” he demanded, and she flinched at the booming coarseness of his voice. He winced at the slip and softened his voice. “The door should have been locked.”
Keturah only smiled, still heading to where he was. “Not when I opened it.”
He frowned at her, but his displeasure turned to embarrassment when she came closer. “Keturah…why…” He swallowed, his throat alarmingly dry.
She gave a wry smile and greeted him with a touch to his red cheek and a kiss. “You’re injured. I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself.”
Alvaro cleared his throat and replied, “I’m fine. I will heal.” He looked at her face, clean and unharmed, damp hair running down her neck and the front of her robe. The robe was parted a bit so that he could see a strip of skin from her neck down to just above her breasts, and it was enough that he wondered if she wore anything underneath. He swallowed again, increasingly uncomfortable.
“Where is it the worst?” she asked, drawing his attention once more.
He was not comfortable sitting in the bath while she stood there, but getting out was not an option in the least. He didn’t really trust himself to answer her, so he merely turned and leaned forward a bit, showing her the deep gashes in his back. They were no longer bleeding, but they weren’t healing right either, the raw, red skin thin and jagged. Keturah hissed out a breath and said to the room,
“Bring me a stool, needle, and medical thread.” She pushed up the sleeves on her robe and found the stool at the end of the tub, sitting down. A little table sat bedside her, boasting her supplies and alcohol as well.
“Do you know what
you’re doing?” he asked warily.
Keturah was silent for a moment, sterilizing the needle and threading it before she opened the bottle of alcohol. “You mean, have I been trained by a physician? No. But I’ve had plenty of practice.”
“Somehow that does not reassure me…” he muttered, and she just smiled and leaned over, finding a little spot beneath his ear against his neck where she placed a kiss that sent shivers down his entire body.
He didn’t make a sound as she worked, not when she poured alcohol on the fresh wounds nor when she began stitching the larger wounds together. He merely tensed and grabbed the edges of the tub, bending the intricate metalwork out of place as he hissed out breaths through his teeth. When she finished, he sighed and tried to relax, but Keturah nudged him up.
“Try not to get your stitches wet,” she said and moved her stool around beside the tub. Alvaro only nodded and breathed out a heavy breath, looking up at her as she sat there, washing her hands in alcohol before cleaning and sterilizing the needle again, threading it.
“Alright. Now I know there are a few deep wounds on your chest. Once I get those, you’ll be done.” Alvaro shifted back a bit, watching the woman with black and white hair lean over him and pour alcohol into the wounds. He hissed but then went silent, focusing on her, her dark eyes, the white strips in her hair, the way her robe almost opened up when she leaned over. He swore a hundred times in his head and decided to focus on the ceiling instead, letting her work.
As she neared finishing with the last wound—a slash to his left side—she said, “I also came…to talk with you.”
By now, Alvaro was numb to the pain and glanced to her with a dubious expression. “You came to talk wearing that robe?”
She glanced up at him as if surprised and then turned her attention back to her needlework and smiled wryly. “I can take it off if you would prefer.”
“No!” he almost shouted, making her jump and pull the thread. He winced and she grimaced on his behalf before smiling a bit and finishing the suture.
“What I mean is…I know that…I know about the bargain with the Dark Sorcerer.” She sat up and cleaned the needle, washing her hands once more. She was beginning to hate blood—rather ironic. “And…you do not have to go through with it.”
He stared at her, heart pounding and sinking, not knowing what to make of her words. He frowned, noticing how she wouldn’t look at him as she put her supplies away and readjusted her robe, focusing on anything else. “I…do not understand.”
She looked back to him anxiously and then to the fire. “The betrothal…my hand and yours…but…you and…your mother…you made that promise for a duchess…for a lady …someone of wealth and beauty and…and respectability.”
Keturah had never cared about those things, not as a duchess’ daughter and not as a thief. She never regretted not having them either, although having enough money to get out of Alexzander’s service would have been nice. But for the first time…she regretted losing those things. She regretted not having what was promised to her and to him. That she was not worth what she had once been when that promise was made.
“Damn it, Keturah.” Keturah blinked rapidly in alarm, looking up at him. Alvaro sat up and took her by both arms, and the look in his eyes almost frightened her. She squirmed a bit, uncertain and watching him. “Do not dare say such things. Not in my presence. Do not dare.” He gave her a small shake.
“Do you think I made that promise for wealth or beauty or even reputation? Do you think any of those things are of any comfort to me? Any concern of mine? Do you think it is in spite of those things that I love you? Well?” His voice boomed louder.
And Keturah, usually with too much to say, was silent, stumbling over words and looking up at him. He glowered down at her, still holding onto her. He sighed and softened his voice, but his eyes remained just as focused. “Your wealth is in your spirit: your courage and your fierceness. Your beauty is in your love for your son and your kindness towards those who do not deserve—look at me, Keturah!” She had turned her eyes away, not wanting to listen.
The two-toned eyes snapped back to him in surprise, and he said, “Listen to me, Keturah. I won’t let this go on. Not any more. I don’t care what that bastard told you or the lies you’ve told yourself. I love you. Not in spite of anything you think you lack but because of everything you are. I won’t have any more talk like this. I won’t. I love you. You will be my wife, and I will always love you.”
He hesitated, watching her, and he suddenly seemed nervous again, his temporary fierceness fading into uncertainty. He let go of her, though his hands still cupped her shoulders. “If…of course, that is your wish…”
She just watched him, Keturah did, her blue and green eyes uncertain and confused and completely in awe of him. She smiled a bit and leaned into him, resting her hands on his shoulders and kissing him sweetly. Against his lips, she murmured to him an honest vow, “Yes. Yes, my love…that is my wish…”
A Beast’s Tale
“What stories are you telling, Beast?” comes a sharp voice from the top of the stairs. I pause in my last sentence and turn to find the duchess giving me a displeased look, and I grin, unrepentant.
“Yours, of course,” I tell her and laugh. The room tenses for a moment at my laughter, my toothy maw split wide with the sound, but then they all seem to ease a bit, by now used to my presence. It has been a very long time indeed since I have been surrounded by men in elegant doublets and hose and by women so beautifully dressed in silks and rich dyes.
The woman in question rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head, frowning down at me from the top of the stairs. She is dressed regally, as always. Alvaro’s magic always clothes her in silks and gold. No dresses though. Today is a pale blue tunic embroidered with silver thread in intricate designs. Her hair is combed and fixed in silken ringlets and coils on her head, a butterfly comb in her hair. Her slacks are a silver as well, draped over dainty slippers that make a little tap of a noise when she walks. Her eyes, however, are fixed on the little thing in her arms. A little bundle of dark green cloth.
Beside her, Alvaro takes her carefully by the elbow to help her down the stairs, and she glances up at her husband, annoyed at needing help, but she smiles just a bit. He has forsaken his black mask but instead wears one of Keturah’s own design—one I like much better. It is white and painted with beautiful gold and silver paint, as if in the image of a god or an angel. Soft feathers line the outer top of the mask, blending it into his hair and hiding the horns. The nose is large but carefully sculpted and smooth, the lips tipped in a faint semblance of a smile. No more demonic shapes or forms.
When they reach the bottom of the stairs, all of the guests gather around to greet them with laughter and warmth that has not entered these halls in years. The curtains are pulled back, letting in the warm glow of summer. Outside, the gardens are filled with beautiful roses of red and blue and violet, white and yellow and cream, all in full bloom.
“He is a beautiful child,” I tell her, much taller than she and the tiny babe in her arms. The little creature yawns and smacks his lips together, peering up at me with brown eyes and a petulant frown. I smile. “Might I hold him?”
Keturah smiles a bit and hands the child to me carefully. “Of course,” says she. “You are his godfather.”
I glance to her in surprise and then look down to the bundle who kicks his feet and make a few noises before just looking up at me curiously with his pudgy little face. “No one told me this.”
She shrugs. “Well, I am telling you now.”
“Lady Keturah,” her mother-in-law greets, the powerful Regina Darkwaters.
Keturah looks to her and inclines her head, turning her attention to Alvaro’s parents. Regina kisses her cheek and embraces her briefly before doing the same to her son who smiles slightly beneath his mask. “Are you feeling alright?” she asks.
Keturah nods, leaning against Alvaro a bit. “I am tired and annoyed at the people filling
my home, but I am fine.”
Alvaro squeezes her shoulders and looks down at her, saying gently, “You can go rest upstairs. It is merely tradition.”
She scoffs. “I am not going to go hide upstairs and leave my sons down here with these people. If everyone wants to throw a party for him, then I will be right here.” He only chuckles and touches his mask to the top of her head, as if to kiss her. She looks up at him and flashes a stubborn smirk.
Beside Regina, Menawa sighs. “Will you ever be a proper lady, thief?” he growls.
Keturah gives him an annoyed look. “Will you ever die and leave me in peace, you old bastard?” He glares at her, and she gives him a sour look in return. Mother and son merely exchange a look of exasperation before everyone turns their attention to the child who gives an unhappy cry, fussing in my arms.
This time, Alvaro reclaims him from me, holding his tiny son until the child quiets down and settles once more. “What is his name?” I ask, standing by with a little smile.
Keturah looks to me and then says, “Yulie.” She smiles over Alvaro’s arms, pleased with the child he holds. “His name is Yulie. Speaking of children, where is Jacob?”
I shrug and grin. “Last I saw, he was playing pirates in the gardens with some of the Darkwaters children.”
She sighs and shakes her head, and Regina startles her with, “Ah! I almost forgot.” She pulls a small parcel out of her bag and hands it to Keturah who considers it curiously. She frowns a bit but then unwraps the thing and pulls the box open, her eyes going wide at what lays inside. “It is yours, is it not?” Regina asks, smiling softly.
From the box, Keturah pulls a delicate, beautiful rose brooch forged of dragon bone and steeped with magic. She smiles secretively, looking down at the thing with great love.
“Yes…yes it is.” She fixes it to her tunic without fear of thorns. She swallows and clears her throat, saying resolutely, “Now then. I’m starving. Why don’t we all head into the banquet hall and eat?”
Rose Borne Page 19