by Drea Damara
“Yes.”
“Well, then wouldn’t that mean that what you lost might be here?”
She looked off at nothing in particular. “I suppose it could, but I never came here last time.”
“You said yourself that people had been robbing and looting,” Ricky said. “What if someone got into the hall and took something of yours, or what if you dropped something and the person who picked it up is here?”
Sarah chewed on her thumbnail and began to pace. “Can you search the hall and the grounds tonight?” she whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure they were alone. “I think Vasimus would be afraid I was trying to leave if he sees me wandering around.”
“He can’t force you to stay here, Sarah,” Henry said, causing her to blush in shame.
Ricky interjected. “What would we be looking for?”
“I don’t know!” She threw her hands up. “I had my boots and dress when I woke up and my bracelet. Maybe I lost a ribbon or a tie from the dress. I’m not sure.”
“Great, we have to go around peeping at women and look like perverts,” Ricky said.
Sarah grasped her nephew’s arm. “Ricky, please. I don’t know what else to do.”
They all froze and turned at the sound of footsteps from the other end of the great room. Vasimus descended the last step and walked over to them.
“Lord Ricky, welcome to Daundecort Hall.” Vasimus gave him a curt nod. He looked then to Henry with a stern eye.
“This is Master Henry, my personal guard,” Ricky said.
Sarah imagined that either Henry or Vasimus would burst into flames—it was surreal to see the two of them in the same room. It gave her butterflies. She couldn’t help but notice that Henry’s expression matched the scowling one on Vasimus’s face as the two men studied each other.
“You are welcome as my guests. Let me show you to your rooms. I have had the cook prepare a meal for you, but I am sorry I will not be able to join you this evening, if you will excuse me.” Vasimus glanced at Sarah like he wanted to see her reaction. “I will join you in the morning for breakfast, though.”
“Thank you,” Ricky answered with a nod. “That is kind of you.” Ricky gave his aunt a helpless look as he started to follow Vasimus.
Henry lingered until both men’s backs were turned. He leaned and whispered to Sarah. “We will look tonight. Don’t worry.” He and Sarah started after Ricky and Vasimus up the stairs to the living quarters.
After being shown their room and eating dinner, Ricky and Henry explored as much of Daundecort Hall without drawing notice. Sarah walked out to the courtyard and made an excuse to see her stroomphblutel that Ricky had rode from Oedher Village. When the stable boy disappeared, she inspected the stalls and the ground in the building but didn’t see anything that looked like a feminine adornment she may have lost. What if whoever brought her lost object to Daundecort Hall had left already and taken it with them? She sighed dismally but didn’t want to lose all hope just yet.
Sarah left the stable and walked to the patio where she had woken up the other day, in the hopes she might find something at the site. She stepped carefully, bent over, and squinted through the darkness at the ground. Her exploration was interrupted by the sound of a voice.
“YOU SHOULD not be out alone at night,” Vasimus called in a calm voice.
He watched her straighten up and look around like she was searching for danger. After she must have realized they were the only two present, she smiled at him and said, “But I am at Daundecort Hall. Surely no one would harm me here.”
He glanced around and stopped a few feet from her. “I do not trust the impenetrability of this place as I used to. Better that you use caution and stay indoors at night, lest I have to worry for you.”
Sarah walked the patio wall and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden your thoughts.”
He felt a pang of guilt over her remark for the way he had acted that morning and the fact that she’d just shown him an ounce of compassion by not wanting to be a bother to him. He hadn’t liked hearing what she said to him about how he had changed, but he knew some of it was true. She would never understand why he had become so gruff, not having lived through the war herself. Still, he hoped the feelings between the two of them were strong enough to repair what had been broken.
“You do not burden my thoughts,” he murmured as he came up beside her. “Nor do I wish to burden yours. I only want you safe—safe from this war. I know I have…changed, but I do not want to see this war change you as well.”
“Then why don’t you end it? Why do this to yourself?”
“Sarah, there are so many slights that have occurred over the years; it is not as simple a task as you think. There is no trust between the North and South. What good is a declaration of peace until trust is earned?”
“But how can it be earned without it?” Sarah asked, countering.
Vasimus stared into her eyes and sighed. They were on course for another disagreement. The sight of her not hiding her beautiful eyes from him was enough to make him discard the topic. “Were you looking for something out here?”
She frowned and looked around. “Yes. I thought perhaps since I woke up here maybe what I lost would be around here.”
He swallowed, knowing he had been standing out on the patio not much before she had arrived. The ring he had taken from her bracelet still hung on a chain around his neck where he had placed it upon his return from Allister Hall several days ago. It was safely tucked away underneath his shirt, but he rubbed at his chest to make sure he could still feel it there. Her reiteration that she truly was bound to stay in Farwin Wood put him at ease, in spite of him knowing that he was the cause of what was wrong. Her main argument had always been that she had to return to Blinney, but if she could not, he wondered if she might grow to view things differently.
“Sarah? What if you never find what you lost? What would happen then?”
“Then I would have to stay in Farwin Wood…forever,” she said, staring off.
He reached down and clasped her hand. “Sarah, if that is to be, I would like very much if we could cease our quarreling. I would make sure you lived well here.”
“Vasimus, I don’t want to quarrel with you either, but how could I live well when the people here still suffer because of me?”
Master Henry’s voice came from the hall’s side door. “Sarah, is everything all right?”
Sarah pulled her hand from his and looked back at him like she was about to say something. She closed her lips, however, and walked toward Master Henry.
“Yes. I was just saying good night,” she replied to Henry. “And good night to you as well,” she added and then walked past him through the doorway.
Vasimus gave Henry a cold glare. Who was that man that she ran to him like a chaperone? If he wasn’t mistaken, the swordsman shot him a venomous look right back. The audacity—in his own home! He didn’t take his eyes off him as the man gave a sorry excuse for a half-bow, audaciously pinning Vasimus with his eyes the entire time before returning to the hall.
That oaf had interrupted what could have been an intimate moment with Sarah. Most infuriating was that he realized he had not heard the familiar jingle of the trinkets from her bracelet as her hand had fallen away from his—no, had pulled away! She no longer wore the bracelet he had given her, and while he knew he shouldn’t let such a small gesture disturb him, it did greatly.
THE SILENCE at the breakfast table was painfully awkward. Vasimus sat at the end, while Sarah and her nephew sat on either side of him, facing each other. There had been a slight insinuation that a guard had no place to dine with the lords of a house, but Ricky had said it was common practice in Blinney. Vasimus said nothing as Henry took a place next to Ricky. Seeing Henry across from her brought Sarah comfort, but also concern over what could possibly ensue during this meal.
“What skills do you possess, Master Henry, to have been afforded the position of the young lord’s personal guar
d?” Vasimus asked in an authoritative tone.
“I believe it was my strength and judgment that figured into Lord Ricky’s selection of me,” Henry said and shot Ricky a look.
“Ha,” Vasimus said, grunting, “judgment I understand, although that should be left to the lord. Strength is well and good but not if the bearer cannot apply it in a useful form of combat.” He stripped a bone and then flung it down onto his plate.
“Henry is a—master of hand-to-hand combat and an expert swordsman,” Ricky said, smiling proudly. As soon as he’d said it, Henry’s boot came down, smashing his toes together under the table. He used his smile to mask his pain.
“The young lord exaggerates,” Henry said.
“Well, the personal guard of a lord should be an expert swordsman,” Vasimus continued. “Lord Ricky would no doubt then benefit from your teachings.”
“Indeed, I have,” Ricky said, clearing his throat under the look of Henry’s veiled annoyance.
The doors to the great room burst open, capturing everyone’s attention. One of Vasimus’s guards came down the entryway stairs and called out across the room, “Lord Vasimus, a messenger from Groslivo Stronghold!”
Vasimus gave a lazy nod. His guard nodded to another beyond the doorway outside. The sound of footsteps and swords clanking against metal shin guards echoed. Sarah saw the unmistakable bright crimson color of Ranthrop’s house on the tunic of the man who descended the stairs by the doorway and walked toward the table. It was Varmeer. His posture was proud and formal. He held one arm bent across his middle, giving a stately appearance, quite different from Ranthrop’s unrefined mannerisms.
Varmeer halted several feet away from the end of the table. He gave a half-bow to Vasimus. “Lord Daundecort,” he stated and then he turned to her and repeated the gesture. “Lady Sarah.”
Sarah felt her cheeks grow warm upon being acknowledged. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Vasimus didn’t look pleased that she was familiar with Ranthrop’s guard. It was probably a sour reminder of her recent trip into Ranthrop’s lands.
“Well, what is it Varmeer?” Vasimus said, demandingly.
“Your lordship, I come here assuming you have heard of the encounter Lord Ranthrop’s men had with Lord Richard the Second and his man on the roadway the other day.” Varmeer spoke flatly, his eyes fixed on the wall just above Vasimus’s head.
Vasimus looked at Ricky in question. When Sarah noticed that Ricky looked to be deliberately avoiding eye contact, she snapped. “Ricky! Why didn’t you tell me?”
When Ricky remained mute, Varmeer added, “The young lord was requested to come to Groslivo Stronghold with our escort to meet with Lord Ranthrop but denied the invitation.”
“Escort?” Vasimus scoffed. “The young man is less in age than us, but I assume he knows the difference between an escort and a kidnapping party when he sees one.”
Sarah was surprised to hear Vasimus defend her nephew. Varmeer did not answer, only stood like a statue, eyes fixed, waiting to finish his duty.
Vasimus let out an exasperated sound and waved his hand. “Go on, then.”
“In consideration of this refusal of a peaceful meeting,” Varmeer hesitated at the sound of Vasimus’s bitter chuckle, but continued, “and now knowing that the young lord is a guest of Daundecort Hall, Lord Ranthrop kindly requests your approval for a duel between himself and the young lord.”
“What?” Sarah gasped and looked from Varmeer to Ricky’s worried face to Vasimus’s brooding expression. “He can’t! Why would he want to fight Ricky? He is not my brother. This is ridiculous!”
“Lady Sarah forgets—this request entreats me, but she does raise a point. Why would Lord Ranthrop want to duel a young man he has never met?” Vasimus questioned without sparing Sarah a glance.
She blushed in spite of herself at being ignored. This was more her place than his, she wanted to scream. And how crafty of Ranthrop to make the request to Vasimus and not her own family.
“Your lordship, as you well know, Lord Ranthrop does not expect he will ever have the opportunity to see Lord Richard again. In light of that matter, and given that the young lord so hastily refused to meet him, and in doing so insulted him, Lord Ranthrop proposes this: Give your consent to a duel with your guest, in the name of both Allister and Daundecort family honor, and Lord Ranthrop will make a public declaration of peace on said day.”
Vasimus straightened up in his chair and stared at Varmeer like he was actually considering the offer. Sarah clasped onto his forearm and cried, “Vasimus! You can’t allow this! He’s twice the size of Ricky!”
“What of the peace you have so boldly demanded of me these past days? Do you no longer feel that the people deserve peace?” he said in an eerily calm voice.
“Of course I want peace,” she whispered harshly, “but not—!”
“Not at the hands of your own family?” Vasimus glowered at her and arched an eyebrow. He tugged his arm out from her grasp. “You claimed yourself that Ranthrop killed the man who shot Deronda. Clearly her death was not a result of his orders. He killed neither you nor her. How can I deny this request?”
Sarah’s mouth fell, and she gave a defeated look of pain to her nephew. Ricky had gone pale. Henry sat with his fists clenched on the table and seemed to be grinding his teeth as he stared at Vasimus. Her whole world had gone to hell.
“And where and when does Lord Ranthrop propose to hold this duel?” Vasimus asked.
“He offers you the arena, your lordship; however, he requests it be done as soon as possible—while he is sure the Allisters are still in Farwin Wood.”
Vasimus nodded in thought, surprised that Ranthrop would give him the honor of trusting him to hold the duel in his own lands. He must truly be dedicated to this declaration of peace. “You may tell Ranthrop I consent. Lord Ricky will be present at the Daundecort arena just after noon tomorrow.”
Varmeer seemed relieved and bowed graciously. “Thank you, m’lord. I will deliver your answer directly.”
Varmeer left as quickly as he'd entered. Vasimus let out a breath and it felt like a pile of stones had fallen off his shoulders. The war had gone on for so long that he had stopped thinking it would ever end.
“Lord Ricky, you and your man are welcome to take advantage of my training area in the wing behind the great room,” Vasimus said pleasantly, diving into his breakfast. He stopped chewing at the sound of Sarah’s chair scraping against the floor. He looked up and saw her glower at him before she turned and walked to the stairwell.
“Excuse me, please,” Ricky muttered and hurried out the side door to the patio.
Vasimus looked over one shoulder and then back over the other until he could see neither Allister any longer. He exhaled and set his fork down, dropping his fists to the table as he leaned back in his chair. He’d almost forgotten Henry. The man sat with his bulky arms crossed over his chest, glaring at him.
“What? This is the first offer of peace Ranthrop has ever offered me! She wanted peace!” he yelled, waving an arm in the direction Sarah had gone.
“Peace,” Henry repeated. “Not murder.”
Vasimus shot Henry a perturbed look. He returned his attention to his food and picked up his fork again. “Then perhaps his expert swordsman should see that he is well prepared.”
He looked up when Henry shoved away from the table and watched him walk out of the room to where Ricky had vanished. He was on his way to securing peace, so why was everyone acting like he was a lecher? He threw his fork down and slumped back in his chair. His appetite was gone.
OUTSIDE, HENRY found Ricky leaning against the patio wall, looking down into the garden below. He was wiping his mouth like he had just vomited. Henry walked up beside him and grasped his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I just—”
“What?”
“If I’m going to have to die, I just wish it meant Aunt Sarah could go back home. I mean, what’s the point if she’s still stuck here?”
<
br /> “You’re not going to die.” Henry emphasized each word and gave him a shake. “And we’ll get Sarah home.”
Ricky shook his head. “Now you’re the one who’s living in the fantasy, Henry.”
“Come on.” Henry tugged at Ricky’s sleeve and started walking down the stretch of patio that curved around the hall. He needed to find this training area. If he didn’t keep himself busy he might lose it. “We’ll practice a little and then search again for whatever it is she lost.”
THEY FOUND the training area behind the hall. It was like an atrium, open-air with pillars. Its roof was the second story of the hall. There was no shortage of wooden training dummies or fencing equipment. Henry quickly came up with a game plan that would best suit his young friend.
“Let’s just assume he’s around the same size as Vasimus,” Henry started, “so imagine that when we’re practicing here.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Ricky exclaimed.
“Just focus on me. I’m a few inches shorter than Vasimus, but I’ve got him on muscle mass. You’re strong for your age and size, Ricky. It’s hand-to-hand combat, so your speed will work to your advantage.”
“If it doesn’t, I hope this protection stuff they put in here still works.” He inspected the hilt of his sword. “I could feel it push that guy’s blade away from mine when we fought on the road yesterday.”
Henry drew his sword. “No reason not to learn a few tricks regardless.”
Henry spent the next half hour showing Ricky how to block. He gave him the basics of what he remembered from fencing but knew that was a gentleman’s sport and not likely how the duel would play out, so he improvised after that. Their best bet was that Ricky learn how to fight him off, since he assumed Ranthrop would probably be much bigger than Ricky.
Sarah walked out of a side door from the hall and approached a bench to watch them. She sat in silence, hands pressed between her knees. When they noticed her they both stopped clanking swords.