The Ryn (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  “You’d best be on your way, then.” Kinley quickly reached to open the door, but he avoided making eye contact.

  Rose rushed in, mortified not only for what she had said, but what she had done. She had lied. To Kinley. A knight! Not outright, of course. Every word she’d said was true, but the implication was far from it. And that she had used the inconvenience of her gender to accomplish her means, embarrassing her foster brother in the process, sickened her.

  Even in her haste, as had so often been the state of her return from various exploits with Lewys and Rowlen, Rose navigated around the creaks and groans of the house back to her room without a sound but the guilty beat of her heart.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A penitent Rose arrived at the duke and duchess’s bedchamber door just before the appointed time for breakfast. After apologizing for her behavior the previous day, she followed them downstairs. Already seated at the long table, the knights rose as the trio entered.

  “Good morning, knights. And might I have the pleasure of presenting—” Lord Whittier paused. “Well, officially presenting, as it were, since it would seem introductions of a sort were made yesterday afternoon, my ward, Rose. Rose, I believe Kinley introduced you to Sirs Elden, Kile, and Worth?”

  “Good morning,” Rose curtsied. “Please accept my apologies for being unable to attend dinner last night. I hope you all slept well?”

  “Very well.” Sir Worth smiled. “And might I say it’s lovely to see you this morning?”

  “Indeed,” added Sir Kile. “A pleasure, Mistress Rose.”

  When Sir Elden nodded, his cheeks turned nearly as pink as the side of bacon that had just been delivered to the table. “An honor, Mistress Rose. You’re lovely. Er—” He cleared his throat. “What I mean to say, is that it’s lovely to see you.”

  “The honor is mine.” Rose ducked her head.

  Lord Whittier moved to hold a chair for his wife and Rose stepped toward her usual spot.

  “Allow me,” Sirs Worth and Kile said in unison, but Sir Elden was nearest her chair and held it out for her.

  At the foot of the table, Lady Whittier lifted a hand to her mouth. Rose was sure it was to hide the evidence of the girlish giggle that had just escaped her lips.

  Not since her first breakfast at Mirthan Hall had Rose been such an object of interest at the table. No matter what subject Lord Whittier brought up, at least one of the knights sought Rose’s opinion on the matter. It was, for a girl used to being somewhat secluded from the outside world, a bit overwhelming.

  “You look tired this morning, Kinley,” Lord Whittier addressed his son, and then his wife. “Don’t you think so, Capricia?”

  Lady Whittier eyed her son. “Did you not sleep well, Kinley, dear?”

  “I confess that I am a bit tired this morning.” After a quick side glance at Rose, Kinley smiled at his mother. “I suppose my mind was too occupied with the odd little details of home to settle at a sensible hour..”

  “Ah, it’s to be expected after so long away.” His mother patted his hand. “But you will have plenty of time to rest while you are home.

  “At least a day or two,” Lord Whittier said with a laugh. “Isn’t that right, Capricia?”

  Lady Whittier’s eyes sparkled as brightly as her laugh. “It is at that!” With long straight hair the shade of nutmeg and eyes to match, Lady Whittier was a beautiful woman, but it was her youthful charm that made her so easy to love. “I am afraid I may need to infringe upon you and your friends just a bit.” She winked at Kinley. “All in the service of merriment, of course.”

  Rose’s gaze traveled to the knight she considered a brother. But for his size, Kinley really did look a lot like his mother. His narrow nose and topaz eyes had clearly come from Lord Whittier, but his brown hair and high cheekbones were so like Lady Whittier’s. He was broader and more muscular than Lord Whittier—the difference of a knight’s life to that of a Storyteller’s, she assumed—but he was such a perfect mix of both his parents that she couldn’t help but feel at home in his presence, regardless of the length of time he was away.

  That is, until he met her gaze and she remembered what she had implied the night before.

  Rose hastily reached for her bread and set her concentration on applying honey to it while Lady Whittier addressed her husband across the expanse of the table.

  “Infringe upon us, Mother?” Kinley asked. “And how?”

  “Would you like to tell them, Whittier, or shall I?”

  Lord Whittier chuckled. “I would not deny you the pleasure, my dear.”

  “Wonderful!” Lady Whittier reclaimed Rose’s attention with her enthusiasm. “As you knights undoubtedly know, Sir Kiggon’s company will arrive at Mirthan Hall in two days’ time and—”

  “Sir Kiggon’s company? Will Lewys be with them?” Rose’s words tripped over the duchess’s. “Pardon me, my lady.”

  “No, no. It’s fine. And yes, my dear. Lewys will be with them.” It was all Rose could do to contain a squeal of delight. “And, although we had originally intended for it to be a surprise, I find that I can no longer hold it in!” Lady Whittier continued, “We’re hosting a little gathering while they are here. It’s not every day your son is knighted, after all!”

  “But Kinley’s knighthood is not the only thing we’ll celebrate,” Lord Whittier interjected. “Do tell, Capricia. You’re nearly bursting with it.”

  “Rose’s birthday!” Lady Whittier clasped her hands. “We will celebrate Kinley’s knighthood and Rose’s sixteenth birthday together!”

  “My birthday hardly ranks with Kinley being knighted!” Rose laughed. “But I will not object the inclusion. Will there be dancing?”

  “This is Veetri, my dear,” Lord Whittier laughed. “Of course there will be dancing!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Unaccustomed to the doting attention of men not of her family, Rose was mentally exhausted by the time the household turned in for the night. Kinley’s friends were kind, but she sensed a friendly competition of sorts among the three knights. She couldn’t help but be flattered by their efforts to win her favor, but to attend the knights equally while all three vied to impress her was tiresome. She was just about to ready for bed when a knock sounded at her door and she remembered Koria’s plan for the evening.

  Rose groaned, retrieved the ebonswarth powder from its new hiding place, and slipped on her sheepskin cloak.

  “I thought tonight we could view the Shepherd’s Staff constellation,” Koria said as they started down the path into the woods.

  “I’m exhausted.” Rose dragged her feet. “For once can’t we just do what we need to do without a lesson?”

  Koria smiled. “I know you’re tired, Rose, but it is rather difficult to view constellations in the daylight hours. It’s a beautiful night, the sky is clear, and since Rynloeft created us with an endless supply of curiosity with which to find reason to fill our minds, it would be a shame to miss an opportunity to learn.”

  “My supply of curiosity must be dwindling, for I find that the only thing I want to learn tonight is how my pillow will feel beneath my head.” Rose rubbed her arms. “Besides, it’s cold.”

  “And you have a very warm sheepskin cloak.”

  Rose grumbled all the way to the cave, but slapped a hand across her nose and mouth as soon as she stepped within it. The scent of sulfur was heavy in the air. With a muffled groan, she lifted her lantern and dutifully followed her tutor to the pools.

  Koria set her lantern near the edge of one of the bubbling pools and turned up the wick. From the deep pocket of her cloak she pulled a small wooden bowl and a ladle. The tutor dipped a bit of water from the pool and dribbled it into the bowl. “Hand me the skin of powder, please.”

  Koria mixed the hot, smelly water with a small amount of the even more putrid powder until it made a paste.

  “What a scowl you wear!” Koria laughed. “It’s not that bad.”

  “It is, actually,” Rose argued, but she laid do
wn on the rock, allowing her head to rest on the edge of the pool above the water.

  Koria’s eyes watered as she mixed the ingredients. “Ah, that should do it. Are you ready?”

  “Never.” Rose plugged her nose with her thumb and forefinger and closed her eyes. “Not that that’s ever stopped you.”

  No matter how tightly she closed her eyes, the fumes were too close. Oh, how it burned. Within seconds, tears streamed from her eyes and fire raced down the back of her throat.

  “Ach, stop!”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “I know,” Rose growled. “But this is truly awful, Koria. It almost makes me wish to regain my own wretched hair color.”

  “Your wretched hair, as you call it, is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

  “You only saw it once. And barely long enough to draw that sort of comparison!” Rose protested. “And if Rowlen hadn’t decided to teach me to swim in a pond fed by a mineral spring, you’d not have suffered even that.”

  “Suffered? Hardly. I’d never admit it to your uncle, but I’m glad the minerals dissolved the dye that day. I’d always wondered . . .” her voice trailed off. She sighed. “I’ll never forget it, Rose. Like a living flame, it was.” She paused and then laughed. “Did you hear that? I’ve been here so long I’m beginning to sound like one of the Veetrish.”

  Rose chuckled, but when her scalp and eyebrows began to tingle, sending pinprick itches through her skin, her mind wandered back to her conversation with Mrs. Scyles.

  “Koria, I’ve been in Veetri for eight years and my father’s not sent a single message.”

  “Did he send messages to you when you lived with Sir Drinius?”

  “Not directly,” Rose admitted. “Uncle Drinius or Sir Gladiel would tell me things he’d said.” She paused. “But I haven’t seen Sir Gladiel in years. Even Uncle Drinius has stopped visiting.” Her voice dropped. “And he promised to come as often as he was able.”

  “The rest of E’veria does not enjoy the same peace the bog affords Veetri. I’m sure your uncle has a very good reason for his absence. I’ve no doubt Kinley and other knights could tell you stories of—” Koria dabbed a cloth on Rose’s brow. “Ah! I think we’re ready to rinse.”

  “Finally.”

  With great care, Koria wiped the paste from her charge’s eyebrows and then dipped the cloth in the hot spring. She carefully scrubbed away all traces of the blackening powder from Rose’s face.

  “Koria, last night you said that it’s illegal to possess ebonswarth,” Rose began. “Are you sure we’re not breaking the law? I’ve no desire to meet one of the King’s jailers.”

  Koria laughed. “Oh, we’d not stay in the jailer’s company for long. Knowledgeable possession of ebonswarth is considered treasonous. And treason is a capital offense.”

  “A capital offense?” Rose gasped. “We could be executed?”

  “I’m sure Sir Drinius would not let that happen. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “But Mrs. Scyles—”

  “Let me worry about Mrs. Scyles.” Koria’s tone darkened. “You just stay out of her way as much as possible.” Koria paused. “Aspera has suffered much in her life, Rose. And although her dislike of you is misguided, it is sourced from a deep well of pain.”

  “Her husband left her for a black-haired witch.”

  Koria stilled. “She told you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her pain does not excuse her hatred, but it does help to explain it, does it not?” Koria sighed. “Showing compassion to her, even in the face of her scorn, will not only help guard your own secrets, but will help to grow you into a more empathetic woman. Now close your eyes and I’ll rinse out the dye.”

  Rose waited for her to say more about Mrs. Scyles, but when silence persisted, she knew the subject was closed.

  “Did you bring the basil oil or the lemongrass to ease the scent this time?” Rose asked, hoping for lemongrass.

  “Neither.” Even with her eyes closed Rose could sense the smile in her tutor’s voice. “Remember when we distilled roses for a natural science lesson last year?”

  “Yes. I gave the rose oil to Lady Whittier. For her birthday.”

  “Not all of it. You gave her the oil from the pink roses. I put the other oils aside for a special occasion.” Koria smiled. “I believe a girl’s sixteenth birthday qualifies as a special occasion.” She laughed. “If Sir Kinley’s friends are any indication of the amount of attention you will receive at Lady Whittier’s party, I think we can safely assume that many a young man will have his nose near enough your hair to benefit from a thorough application.”

  Rose laughed and inhaled deeply of the rich, spicy floral oil Koria massaged through the length of her black waves. “That’s the one from the dark red roses, isn’t it?”

  “So you were paying attention!” Koria laughed. “It’s potent, but we’ll be sure to apply a few more drops each day to mask the dye’s stench.”

  Koria pulled a length of towel from another pocket and placed it over Rose’s head as she sat up. Sulfur still scented the air around the hot spring, but the spicy rose scent was an effective combatant.

  “I’ll coil your hair and then we’ll go home.”

  “What about the lesson?” As soon as she had spoken Rose wished she had kept her mouth shut.

  “The Shepherd’s Staff will be in sight as we walk and I will tell you of it while we make our way back to Mirthan Hall.” Koria paused. “And in case you are wont to daydream about any of the handsome young knights who’ve taken so much of your time today,” she said with a smile, “keep in mind that I will be testing you on the lesson tomorrow.”

  Rose issued a groan, but couldn’t help the grin that followed closely on its heels. “They are a rather handsome lot, aren’t they?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The snow-covered lawn glittered in the light of dozens of lamps. From Rose’s third-floor window the walkway looked like a swirling path of stars. In all her years at Mirthan Hall the duke and duchess had never hosted so many guests nor planned so grand a gathering as this.

  “Isn’t it beautiful, Tinna?” Rose spoke to the maid waiting to arrange her hair—an unusual pleasure, since Rose generally saw to her own hair. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

  “Yes, Mistress Rose. I’ve seen this very view before. Years ago the duke and duchess hosted many a merry gathering. When the children came they entertained less of course, as is right and proper for a young Veetrish family. But now that you are near to grown I should imagine we’ll see scores of parties again at Mirthan Hall. Shall we see to your hair now?”

  It took a bit of time to manipulate Rose’s thick, stubborn curls, but finally they seemed secure.

  “There’s a different scent about your hair tonight,” Tinna said. “Like the flower you were named for, but with a lingering hint of your usual tonic.”

  Rose grimaced. “Is it awful?”

  “Oh no, mistress. Quite the opposite! How did you achieve it?”

  Rose swallowed. “Koria offered to add a bit of rose oil to my . . . hair tonic. She said she’d saved it for a special occasion.”

  “And it is that, indeed!” Tinna exclaimed. With just a few deft movements and mother-of-pearl pins, Tinna secured Rose’s upswept black curls. “Is it too tight? Do any of the pins poke at you?”

  “No.” Rose stood and walked to the full-length looking glass in the corner of the room and smiled at the elegant young lady staring back at her. “It’s perfect.”

  Rose smoothed her hands over the gown Lady Whittier had commissioned in secret when they had measured Rose for her winter wardrobe. Richly tailored in light blue velvet embroidered with a swirling pattern of shimmering white thread, its square neckline and fitted bodice flattered the curves that had blossomed on Rose’s tall figure over the past several years. Three-quarter-length sleeves, edged in a delicately crocheted lace, added a touch of whimsy to the sophisticated design, seeming to give the slightest n
od to Rose’s retreating girlhood among the louder proclamation that she was now, indeed, a young lady.

  Rose twirled in front of the mirror and laughed as the skirt flared out. “Oh, Tinna, isn’t it grand?”

  The maid smiled. “It’s beautiful. Shall I help you with your slippers?” She had just finished fastening the blue velvet slippers to Rose’s feet when Lord Whittier’s knock announced he had come to escort his ward downstairs.

  “Are you ready, mistress?”

  Rose nodded and Tinna answered the door.

  The duke strode into Rose’s bedchamber. “Our guests should begin arriving any moment, Rose, so we’d best—” His words halted as his jaw went slack. “Well, my heart,” he said with a smile. “As sunrise awaketh the bluebird to song, mine eyes doth rejoice on the ones that I love.”

  As a Master Storyteller, Lord Whittier’s habit of reciting verse mid-conversation was hardly unusual, but the tears that misted his eyes were, indeed, a rare sight.

  “Rose, my dear,” he said finally, “you are absolutely stunning.”

  “Thank you.” Rose dipped a small curtsy. “And might I say, my lord, that you cut quite a dashing figure yourself.”

  The duke offered Rose his arm and escorted her down the stairs. At the bottom, two men stood flanking the duchess. The shorter of the men stepped forward.

  “Happy birthday, Rose, if a thrice late.”

  “Thank you, Lewys.” Rose’s actual birthday had passed three days earlier, and although Sir Kiggon’s company had arrived the night before, between Rose’s responsibilities in helping Lady Whittier ready the house for the ball and Lewys’s squire duties to Sir Kiggon, she’d barely had a chance for more than a brief greeting with Lord Whittier’s middle son.