“I don’t mind the lack of heat,” Raine said. “I sleep better when it’s cool.”
“There are steam baths beneath the castle,” Hedda continued, as though Raine had not spoken, “but I thought you might wish to bathe in your room tonight.”
“Yes,” Raine said again, “though I’m sorry to put your servants to so much trouble. Hauling water up a flight of stairs is hard work.”
Hedda shrugged. “It is of no matter. The lazy churls don’t earn their keep, as is.”
Embarrassed, Raine slipped into the sitting room and went to stand by the fire. At last, the task was done, and the men filed out of the apartment.
Hedda came out of the bedchamber. “Your bath is prepared. Send the maid to me if you wish a trundle bed brought up for the boy. Is there aught else you require?”
“No, thank you.”
“Then I will bid you good eʼen.”
Hedda left, closing the tower door behind her with a decided snap. Raine breathed a sigh of relief. Mauric had not exaggerated. The queen of Finlara was unpleasant, to say the least.
Drifa entered the sitting room with a basin of water. “Milady, would you care to wash your hands before you sup?”
“Yes,” Raine said. “Thank you.”
Raine washed and dried her hands, then seated herself at the table to dine. The fare was simple: fish chowder and bread. The bread had been carefully wrapped in a clean cloth and was still warm.
“Ale?” Drifa asked, lifting the jug on the table. “Or there is wine, if you prefer.”
“Ale will be fine.”
The girl filled a mug with ale and Raine took a sip. The brew was caramel brown, cool, and slightly malty.
Drifa ladled soup into a bowl and stepped back.
“Would you care to join me, Drifa?” Raine asked, lifting her spoon.
“No, milady.” Drifa looked shocked. “That wouldn’t be proper.”
“I don’t see why not. I frequently dined with the crew on the Storm.”
“Begging your pardon, milady, but you ain’t at sea no more, and the queen insists we remember our station.” Drifa flushed and added, “As we should.”
“She frightens you?”
“She’s the queen, milady. Is the meal to your liking? If you are displeased, I can send for something else.”
“No, this will do.”
Raine tasted the soup. It was scrumptious, a rich broth thick with fat shrimp, chunks of fish, and tender vegetables. She broke off a piece of bread and took a bite. The crust was crisp and crunchy, the center soft. She gave the meal her full attention, consuming two bowls of chowder and most of the loaf of bread. When she’d finished at last, she looked up to find Drifa eyeing her curiously.
Raine sat back. “What is it?”
“The ladies of the castle are abuzz, now the roark and the jargrave have returned.” She sighed. “I’ve never seen the roark, o’ course, but I caught a glimpse of the jargrave, once.” Drifa blushed. “Devilish fine, he was. The spitting image of Finn.”
“The jargrave?” Raine asked, perplexed.
“Lord Mauric Lindar, the Jargrave of Sea Watch,” Drifa said. “Jargrave is a Finlaran title. The same as an earl in other countries, or so I’m told. Lord Mauric’s lady mother has recently arrived at court.”
Raine stared at her. “Lord Mauric?”
“Aye, the Lindars are an old family. The rowan himself is a Lindar, you know. The Jargrave’s sisters are here, as well. The younger one is something of a romp. Wild as a buck, or so Rosalee, their maid, says.”
Mauric was an earl. In all the time they’d been together, he’d failed to mention that little detail, though she should have guessed he had a title. He was the rowan’s nephew.
“Next time I see him, I’m going to put a flea in his ear,” Raine muttered. “Jargrave of Sea Watch, my hind foot.”
“Milady?”
“Nothing.” Raine pushed back from the table. “Thank you for supper, Drifa. I’ll have my bath now.”
She started for the bedroom, and Drifa trailed after her.
“You may go,” Raine said. “I don’t require help.”
Drifa wrung her hands. “Please, milady. I’m to serve you. If the queen were to find out, I’d be let go.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Raine saw the maid’s terrified expression and relented. “Very well, if you insist.”
“Thank you, milady.”
Raine went into the bedroom and slipped out of her gown and underthings, too sleepy and weary to be embarrassed by her nudity.
She stepped into the hot water with a groan of delight. “This feels wonderful. I haven’t had a real bath in weeks.” She picked up the bar of soap Hedda had provided and took a sniff. “Rose?”
“Peony, milady. The queen’s favorite.”
Raine bathed and, at Drifa’s insistence, allowed the girl to shampoo and rinse her hair. Emerging from the tub, Raine dried off and donned the nightgown and robe Hedda had laid out for her. The long-sleeved nightgown swallowed Raine, but it was warm. She sat by the fire to dry her hair.
“You’ve beautiful hair, milady,” Drifa said, running a comb through the tangled mass. “Black as midnight and thick, and such lovely curl.”
“Please. Call me Raine.”
The comb in Drifa’s hand twitched. “Oh, no, I couldn’t do that. The queen would wear my hide for a napkin.”
Raine closed her eyes, drowsy from the heat and Drifa’s soothing touch. “When we’re alone, then. I’m counting on you to help me, Drifa. I don’t know anything about court life.”
“I don’t know how much help I’ll be, milady, but I’ll do my best.” Drifa fell silent, then said, “You’re nothing like her, and that’s the truth.”
Raine opened one eye with difficulty. She was warm and full and clean, and finding it hard to stay awake. “Her?”
“Hara Bel-a Zhezar,” Drifa whispered, as though the walls had ears. “I’ve seen the coins. You’re her twin?”
“So, I am told, though we’ve never met. We were separated at birth. I was raised in a faraway land by my great aunt.”
“She was good to you, this aunt?”
“Yes. Very good. The best, in fact.”
“That explains it,” Drifa said. “Why you’re so nice, I mean. The gograh was raised by that cruel wizard. Some say he bathes in blood and feeds little children to his nasty pets.”
“Gograh?”
Mimsie appeared on a puff of Arpege. “It’s a Shaddish word for princess.” She pursed her lips. “Or maybe it means priestess. Ronnie told me, but I forget.”
Drifa shrieked and stumbled back from the chair. Raine rose and hurried over to the trembling girl. “It’s all right, she won’t hurt you.” She put her arms around Drifa’s shoulders. “Dammit, Mimsie, you should wear a bell.”
“What am I, the Avon lady?” Mimsie sniffed. “I came to warn you.”
“Let me guess. I’m in danger,” Raine said. “You’re late. We were attacked this evening.”
“That?” Mimsie waved a slender, glowing hand. “That was only the first. There will be others. There’s a price on your head.”
“But the rowan—”
“Granted you sanctuary?” Mimsie snorted. “Don’t mean squat, baby girl. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“I will, Mimsie, but who sent those—”
But Mimsie had already gone.
Chapter 11
Tantrums and Tea
“Kron save us, that was a ghost.” Drifa’s eyes were wide with fright.
“Yes.” Raine shook her head. “That, Drifa, was my aunt.”
“The one what brung you up?”
“The very same. She took me in after my parents died.”
“But…she’s so young.”
“I know.” Raine made a fa
ce. “The first time I saw her, I didn’t recognize her.”
Drifa wrung her hands. “You’re in danger, milady. The shade said so.”
“Unfortunately, that’s nothing new.” Raine chewed on the end of her finger. “But, what if the attackers decide to go after Chaz and Flame?”
“Flame and Chaz?”
“A dragon and a boy in my charge. Flame—the dragon—had to be left in a stable, and Chaz—” Raine glanced out the window at the driving snow. “The storm is getting worse. Gurnst and Chaz should be here by now. I’d better go check on them.”
Drawing her robe around her, Raine strode from the bedchamber.
“Let me go, milady.” Drifa hurried after her. “You’re not dressed. It’s unseemly.”
There was a knock on the door as Raine entered the sitting room.
“Come in,” she said.
Mauric strolled into the tower. “Ho, Rainey, I’ve brought you something.”
Chaz slunk into the room wearing a scowl. “What do you want, Rainey? The lads and I were having a bang-up snow fight.”
“I’m sorry to spoil your fun, but I didn’t want to go to bed without checking on you,” Raine said. “Did you enjoy the wagon ride?”
“Sure. It was tip-top,” Chaz said. “Gurnst let me handle the reins and everything.” He shoved his hands in the pocket of his tunic and hunched his shoulders. “Satisfied?”
Raine put her arms around him and gave him a hug. “Don’t be surly. Have you a room?”
“I’m bunking with Mauric.”
“I think you should stay with me. I can have a trundle bed brought up. We’ll have a little party with tea and scones, if you like.”
“No.” Chaz pulled away. “Stop mollycoddling me, Raine. I ain’t a baby, and you’re not my mam.”
“Easy, lad,” Mauric said, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “A fine pickle you’d be in, if not for Raine. The Shads, remember?”
Chaz’s face reddened. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Can I go?”
“Yes.” Raine ruffled his dark hair. “Off with you, then.”
Chaz left, slamming the door behind him.
“That went well,” Raine said, giving Mauric a wry smile.
“He’s grown from a wee tyke to a young man, practically overnight,” Mauric said. “I’ve no doubt the lad’s confused.”
“And I don’t know what I’m doing.” Raine made a helpless motion. “He’s right. I’m not his mother.”
“You’re all the mother he’s got,” Mauric said. “Go to bed, lass. You look pulled.”
“I am tired. Please, see that Chaz gets a bath. He smells like a goat.”
Mauric grinned. “ʼTis only natural. He’s a boy.”
Raine gave him a level look.
“Hoo,” Mauric said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “I’ll see that he washes, but I can’t promise he’ll use soap.”
Mauric strode out and Drifa dropped the latch on the door into place. “The jargrave is right, milady. You’re done in. Get some rest. I’ll see the tub is emptied in the morning.”
“It’s been a long day,” Raine admitted.
Returning to the bedchamber, she waited while the maid removed the warming pans and placed them on the hearth. Shrugging out of the borrowed robe, she crawled into bed.
“This feels lovely,” Raine said, pulling the covers to her chin.
“I think you should tell someone about the shade’s warning, milady,” Drifa said. “There’s a price on your head. Greed gnaws a hole in a man’s belly only gold can fill.”
Raine yawned. “I’ll be fine.”
“I think it’s a mistake, but I can see that your mind is made up.” Drifa picked up Raine’s discarded garments and boots and drew the curtains around the bed. “Good night, milady. Sleep well.”
Raine heard the soft scud of the young woman’s slippers on the stone floor, then the click of the door closing behind her. Burrowing deeper into the mound of warm blankets, Raine sighed and closed her eyes. She was drifting into exhausted slumber when she was awakened by a gust of wind that rattled the bed curtains.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. The room was pungent with the briny scent of the sea. She heard someone moving about in the next room.
“Drifa, is that you?” Raine said. “I think the storm may have blown open a window.”
There was no answer. The curtains fluttered again and, through the narrow crack in the drapes, Raine saw the fire flare and go out, plunging the room into darkness.
“Drat,” Raine said, pushing the cushions aside.
The bedroom door swung open with a creak and the luminous figure of a woman stood in the doorway. The ghost was slender and ethereal, a mournful creature with sad eyes and pale, flowing locks.
“Who are you?” Raine demanded, clutching the covers to her chest.
The shade floated into the sitting room, leaving a bright, ectoplasmic stream in her wake. Raine hesitated, then rose, slipped on the robe, and followed the phantom. The ghost stood in the center of the room, her eerie gaze fixed on the glowing coals on the hearth.
“Who are you?” Raine asked again, her voice rising. “What do you want?”
The ghost raised a pale arm and pointed to the stonework above the fireplace.
“You want me to look for something in the fireplace?” Raine said.
The ghost nodded. Going to the hearth, Raine examined the raised designs on the stones. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning back to the shade. “I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
The spook gestured, and a thin filament of light flew from her outstretched hand and struck the mantel. The swirling motif on one of the stones glowed. Raine pressed the design, and the stone rasped open.
“It’s a secret compartment.” Raine peered into the dark space. “Is this what you wanted me to find?”
She glanced back at the ghost, but the shade was gone.
“Great,” Raine muttered. “If I had a brain in my head, I’d go back to bed and pretend this never happened.” She regarded the cavity in the stones. “This, I suppose, is where I stick my hand in a hole, like an idiot, and hope something doesn’t bite it off.”
She shrugged. “Hell with it,” she said, thrusting her hand into the dark hollow.
She felt around. Her fingers brushed against a small bundle swathed in cloth.
“Oho, what have we here?” she murmured, sliding the package from the recess.
Wandering to the chair by the fire, she took a seat and carefully unwrapped the parcel. Inside the velvet covering was a smudged oval of silver and copper. The handle of the mirror was fashioned in the shape of a woman, her arms upraised to support the metal disk.
The silver was tarnished. Taking the cloth, Raine rubbed the mirror. At once, the dingy surface brightened and became clear as silvered glass. Raine gazed into the mirror and gasped in surprise. Instead of her reflection, she saw a long, narrow room with a beamed ceiling. Bookshelves lined the walls, heaped with brass-bound manuscripts. The rowan sat behind a massive desk, rolls of parchment unfurled in front of him. Hedda stood on the other side of the desk. The queen’s back was to the mirror and her narrow shoulders were set.
“…forget your stupid pride,” Hedda was saying. “Give the girl to Joresh.”
“No,” the rowan said. “The Lady Raine has been granted sanctuary.”
“Rescind it. Why risk war with the Dark Wizard over a total stranger? One, furthermore, to whom we owe no allegiance and know nothing about?”
“We know she is Hara’s twin, that much is evident at a glance, and Brefreton and Glory say the girl is important.”
“Those drabs?” Hedda made a derisive noise. “What do they know?”
“Drabs?” The rowan’s eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “Glory is a seer of Shadow Mount and Bree is a powerful sorcerer.�
�
Hedda made an impatient gesture. “They are nothing compared to Glonoff. He has incredible powers.”
The rowan sat back, his expression inscrutable. “I had no idea you were such a devotee of the Dark Wizard. Have a care, Hedda. Dabbling in magic to preserve your good looks is one thing, but treason will not be tolerated.”
“Don’t threaten me, Lindar.”
“Threaten? You are mistaken, my dear. ʼTwas but a friendly warning. I would not see you come to harm.”
Hedda laughed bitterly. “As if you care a rush about me. You have far more affection for that mangy troll.”
“Gertie has been the stalwart advisor of the Rowans of Finlara since Finn. But for that mangy troll, our people would still be wandering, godless and without a home.”
“I don’t care. She disgusts me. She’s hideous and foul.”
The rowan chuckled. “Gertie is fond of swearing, I’ll grant you, but she’s cleaner than most humans. As for her appearance, I will admit that I found her ugly, at first.” He smiled. “Now I see only the face of a friend.”
“I might have known you would defend her. Would that you showed me half as much loyalty.”
“Loyalty is something you earn, Hedda. If ʼtis constancy you desire, I suggest you exhibit more of the trait yourself.”
“Meaning?” Hedda’s spine stiffened.
“Come now, let us have done with pretense. I am aware of your indiscretions.”
Hedda leaned over the desk. “You are a cuckold, Lindar,” she spat in a low voice filled with spite. “The high and mighty Rowan of Finlara has been made a fool.”
“I am more than capable of playing the fool without your help, my dear, so don’t…er…put yourself out on my account.”
“I—you—” Straightening, Hedda turned and strode to the door, her face a mask of fury.
“Hedda.” The rowan’s voice held an edge of steel.
Pausing, she looked back.
“Keep your skirts at your heels,” the rowan said. “People are beginning to whisper. ʼTwould make a refreshing change, in any event.”
A Muddle of Magic Page 14