Dragons!
Her mother told her that at her birth, Shama—the old midwife and supposed Seer—had asserted that Rynne’s spirit animal was a dragon. As a child, she’d dreamed one of the fabled beasts would visit her, and then later she’d watched for signs of scales to appear on her flesh, had spread her arms in hopes of sprouting wings that had never came. Age and cynicism had driven from her the ludicrous idea that they lived at all, or that she would somehow find the power within herself to morph into one of them.
The fact that the ring on her brother’s hand had also been in the shape of a dragon caused her heart to plummet into the pit of her stomach. They were cursed, dragons were. She was sure of it. That was why she’d been unable to successfully remove the ring. There was power in the ring, and that power was somehow controlling her brother. The faster she got the potion to him, the sooner she could rid them all of the hideous thing.
“How soon do we begin this journey?” she asked, surprised by her own fervor.
“At first light,” he answered without hesitation. “I’d leave now if we had more daylight ahead of us. We’ll want to set up camp our first night within the far border of Karthmere so we can ride hard the next day in an attempt to get across the fiefdom of Thurwickden in one day.”
Rynne nodded. “May I know the essence of the unrest within Lord Brantley’s borders? It seems to have risen up so quickly, especially for a man so beloved by his serfs and servants alike.”
When he raised his brows, she hurried on.
“His sister, Lady Isobella, has come to stay with us on occasion. I believe she may have a soft spot for my brother.”
Rynne looked down, biting at her lip. She didn’t know why she’d said that, especially knowing men cared little for ladies gossiping. She sighed. It didn’t really matter. She’d be home in a couple of days, and given the distance, she’d probably never see this lord again. The thought left a hollow in the pit of her stomach.
Brendan’s brows drew down and he averted his gaze to the ground. Could she truly not know how long she had been gone? The unrest had been ongoing, off and on, for several months, at least for the duration of her absence. He shook his head, wondering how much he should tell her.
Just older than himself and Kensey, Tamas Brantley, Lord of Garway, had inherited his fiefdom around the same time as the other two, their fathers all expiring during the lengthy battle of Volante. Brendan didn’t want to think of that time any more than he wanted to acknowledge the wave of jealousy that hit him when he wondered if the maiden had already met Tamas and taken a fancy to him. She wouldn’t have been the first.
A likable character, his dark-haired neighbor had a quick wit and an even faster tongue. Lord Brantley was said to have a way with the ladies. It was rumored that he’d sweet-talked one of the King’s daughters into sharing her bed. Brendan wasn’t sure just how much of that he believed, since the man still had his head and there’d been not even a hint of threatened nuptials. He had seemed to keep mostly to his own land since then.
The Lady Katrynne was correct in her assessment of his character. Those who served under him, whether that be on his lands or during their time at battle, all thought highly of him. He was the kind of man who would lay down his life for another should he deem that person worth his loyalty. Though if you were found to be his enemy...
Brendan shuddered, covering it with a shrug. He’d hold his tongue for now. There was no reason as yet to share with the maiden all that he knew, that the same men who had visited her brother had also foisted themselves into Brantley’s castle and the Lord of Thurwickden had placed several of them in his dungeon. The ongoing battle was the usurper’s attempt at gaining freedom for the other members of their league. Driagaran against Druajen… the bad against the good, just as it had always been.
Chapter 5
Brendan nodded at a guard who scrunched his brow in confusion as he and Rynne walked into the house. He almost laughed, realizing he’d have to find a way to explain her presence within his halls. Then again, he was lord there, accountable to no one except the King. How she got there was no one’s concern and if he deemed the return of the lady to her family worthy of another ride through Thurwickden, so be it. They may not like it, but none of his men would challenge him. Being lord was a good position to be in. He smiled, turning his attention to watching the maiden take in his home for the first time.
No finer than her own, really, there were features that he knew were unique and truly breathtaking. His forefathers had been more blatant about who they were; their obsession with dragons becoming the central theme of the Keep.
The torchieres, spaced unevenly along the hall they walked down, were carved towers with stone dragons climbing up their walls. The main foyer sported a chandelier in the shape of a flying dragon hung high in the multi-story space. He couldn’t wait for her to see the sculpture that stretched across the top of the fireplace in the dining hall, or those crawling up the posts of his bed.
No, no, no. That was probably one thing he should not consider showing her. Not that he would have minded. Their walk from the garden had done little to quench the fire from the kiss they’d shared. He thought of her reaction. Even with all the uncertainty and fear that she’d unsuccessfully tried to mask in her eyes, she had met his kiss with fervor, returning it with a passion few women would have shared, especially not with a man she’d just met.
There was something odd about her—about them. There was a feeling of intimacy between them—a knowing of one another. With the way she had kissed him back, he knew she’d felt it too, even if neither of them could have explained it.
Brendan took the opportunity to scrutinize her further when she looked up at the dragon chandelier until, after turning slowly, she lost her balance and stumbled back into him. Startled, her arms went out and he caught her, his hands on her forearms pulling her firmly against his chest.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered low against her ear, “I won’t let you fall.”
The gulp of air, slow blink, and the way she leaned into him for a moment before her wits returned and she stepped away, were worth more than the whole of his kingdom. He felt a stirring inside him. His dragon approved. Their alliance would be good, serving them, their families, and their kind.
When she cleared her throat, Brendan did the same before calling for Hilde. He frowned, surprised his sisters hadn’t shown yet.
Distracted from his thoughts, he smiled at the appearance of the plump form of a maid who had been with his family for longer than he could remember. He waved off her curtsy and introduced her to the Lady Katrynne, feeling a fleeting pang of jealousy when the lady asked the old maid to call her Rynne. He wasn’t surprised the lady had so quickly taken to the grandmotherly maid. Everyone did. Without her and Durstan, he would have been completely lost after his father’s death, and even more so when his mother followed shortly thereafter.
“Hilde,” he called after them. “Use the White Room for our guest, please.”
He could see the concern on the lady’s face after Hilde opened and closed her mouth several times, stammering out the beginning of sentences, only to stop. In the end, a raised brow had the maid lowering her head in obedience.
“You may use any of the belongings in the room. See that she wants for nothing.”
Brendan skedaddled out of there before either of them could say anything more. He really did need to find Conall. His second in command would need the time between now and bedtime to prepare the men for their journey.
Whistling, he stopped by the kitchens first, ignoring the wide-eyed stares he received when he ordered a tray taken up to the White Room. Let them stare and whisper. She needed sustenance. He chuckled. Her stomach had grumbled most unladylike on the walk from the garden. She’d looked adorable cutting her eyes in his direction each time to see if he’d heard.
Wondering whether the unsteady feeling in her stomach was from hunger, being overwhelmed by her venture, or from the ravenous way Lo
rd MacCailín had looked at her as they climbed the stairs, Rynne had to force herself to breathe normally while the maid fussed over her.
She couldn’t get their kiss out of her head, nor the way her skin heated every time he touched her, no matter how lightly… Traveling through time seemed to have awakened a craving deep within her. She felt so reckless. How wantonly she had returned his kiss. No wonder he had smiled at her the way he did before taking his leave.
Rynne looked around the room—the room she knew without a doubt belonged to the Lady of the House. Its finery told her as much. There was also the door… Midway along one wall hung a reminder that this room was connected to another, to that of the Lord of the Castle. It was quite nearly an exact replica of the chambers her parents had shared. The door locked but one way, assuring the Lady could only pass into the Master’s chamber when bidden, whereas the Lord could enter her room any time he wished.
Moisture clouded her vision. Why had Lord MacCailín placed her here? What expectations did he have for her, and would her willingness determine his inclination to help her get home?
Rynne jumped when a knock came on the hallway door and Hilde chuckled. Her hands full of odds and ends she was pulling from the wardrobe, she asked Rynne to answer it. No more surprises, she thought when she pulled it open, only to smile when she saw the food-strewn tray the servant carried. She motioned him inside, her stomach thanking him with a loud growl that wrung giggles from the two girls who came in behind him.
Rynne cocked her head as she turned toward them. One looked very much like a female version of the Lord of Locktonhurst. The other, a more petite blonde with wary blue eyes, regarded her with caution, her laughter fading away much faster than her sister’s. They were sisters, she was sure, even without being told.
“We’re Brendan’s sisters,” the darker haired one told her. “I’m Margaret, and this…” she turned to point at the younger of the two, “She’s Sophia. We’re told you’re staying the night.”
When Rynne nodded, Margaret clapped her hands. The girl may have been close to her own age, but she acted much younger.
“We don’t get many lady visitors up here,” Hilde provided. “I’m afraid their manners are a bit rusty, my lady. I… uh, the majority of their upbringin’ has fallen to me, and… well, I’m no lady.” The maid fixed the two girls with a steely glare when they snickered, her eyes softening as she continued. “Their mama, God rest her soul.” The three crossed themselves and Rynne quickly did the same. “Well, you see, she didn’t take to the loneliness up here so much and spent a good deal of her time at the King’s Palace. Her time of confinement here during Volante nearly drove her bonkers…”
“I would have been going with her in another two years,” Margaret interrupted.
Two years, Rynne thought. That would have put her at nineteen. They weren’t that far off in age. She turned to look at the other girl who had yet to move further into the room.
“And what of you, Sophia? How long until you might go to the palace?”
The younger girl shocked her with the vehemence of her shaking head, her gaze going to the floor when Hilde chastised her. It was Lady Margaret who solved the riddle.
“Five years, but she can’t go now because we have no one to take us since Mama…” she crossed herself again and cleared her throat before continuing. “Sophia has no interest in life outside of Locktonhurst anyway. She may look like our mother, but she’s MacCailín through and through. She’d rather explore this old rock or gaze out at the sea than don a frilly dress and dance with a prince.”
The way Margaret clasped her hands together, her face lighting up as she said the last, told Rynne that was exactly what she wanted to do. What girl wouldn’t want to give up the solitariness of life in a castle so far from Court to find the man of her dreams?
Rynne looked at Sophia and then out the window. She could see the vast expanse of water in the distance, imagined the sound of it hitting the shore somewhere beneath them and thought the exploration of both the castle and the grounds would be a welcomed excursion.
An invitation to the Palace had arrived for her that year and she’d turned it down. The thought of venturing beyond the borders of Wolfdenreve terrified her. She had no desire to dance with strange men or wear frilly dresses for more than just the occasional festival held within the great hall of her own home…
Lady Margaret’s voice startled her and she realized the girl had been talking the whole time she’d been lost in thought. Hilde must think her manners as deplorable as her charges. Not so. Her parents may have practically hidden her away from visitors to Honorcrest, but she’d still been schooled in both books and conduct, and the decision to refrain from going to the Palace had been wholly hers.
“Brendan could take us,” Margaret was saying. “But he won’t. He scarcely stays put here, and yet, he detests the affairs of the Palace.” She squinted at Rynne who squinted back. “If you’re thinking you’ll win his favor as a way to get into the Royal Circle, you may as well think again. You won’t be the first to have tried.” She stood from the chair where she’d plopped down and walked toward the door. “There’s only one thing he’s interested in, and it’s sure not a trip to the courts… or the altar.”
Rynne glanced at Hilde as the girl slipped from the room. The maid’s mouth hung as wide open as her own. What a tart little snip, she thought. Lady Margaret needed to be bent over someone’s knee.
She lifted her chin and turned toward the other sister, wondering if she’d encounter more of the same. Sophia stood rooted to the spot where she’d been since the two had entered the room. Rynne studied her as the girl drew herself up, her shoulders going back in an attempt to match her pose.
“Do you intend to try to marry Brendan?” she asked, her voice low and soft.
Sucking in a shallow breath, Rynne started to answer and then shrugged. Did she?
“I’ve only just met your brother.”
The blonde head bobbed as Sophia turned toward the door. She too, stopped at the threshold.
“Do… do you know the meaning of the black feathers?” she asked.
Her odd question knocked Rynne completely off guard. She shook her head after staring at the girl for a few seconds too long and rubbed her shoulder as she turned away. She could feel Sophia’s gaze boring into her before the door closed with a soft thud. She looked at Hilde, who watched her closely as she might someone she was looking out for.
Biting at her lip, Rynne began to remove the tabard, pulling the neckline of her gown to the side when she was finished. She walked toward the portly maid.
“Have you any idea what this is and why it has appeared?”
“Don’t be afraid,” Hilde told her. “You’ll know soon enough.”
Chapter 6
The meal was as good as any that had been served at Honorcrest, yet Rynne found herself unable to eat much of it. Nerves and fatigue knitted themselves together in a growing ball in her stomach. Hilde had done her best to put her at ease while she helped her bathe and dress for dinner, but the blatant absence of both Margaret and Sophia at the table had her wondering if the maid had also informed Brendan of the happenings in the room she now occupied.
Thinking of Locktonhurst’s lord as Brendan, sleeping in the Lady’s Chamber… it was all too familiar, too… intimate.
Attempting to distract herself, she spoke to the Lord seated across from her position in the place of honor at Brendan’s right hand.
“Where had you been?” she asked Conall, Brendan’s second in command.
A handsome man in his own right with an ever-ready smile, his large frame shook when he laughed.
“Out looking for you, my lady.”
Rynne gasped, her fingers fluttering to her chest.
“Me? That… that seems a bit extreme.”
“Considering you were gone almost five score days, my lady, there are those who might beg to differ…”
Her body tensing, Rynne seemed unable to control
the rising pitch of her voice.
“Five score? Over three months?”
How could that be when it had been less than a day for her? She felt suddenly dizzy, wishing she could find a way to be alone to sort out the thoughts swirling in her head.
“Aye, Lady. ’Tis why our lord has commanded that we leave on the morrow, making haste to return ye to yer family,” one of the knights from further down the table offered.
All eyes turned toward Hilde, who sat even further down.
“What? With all due respect, Master Brendan, surely you can’t be serious.”
Leaning back in his seat, Brendan raised a lazy brow.
“What beef have you with this plan, Hilde? Were it one of your girls, you’d be hollering for their quick return, no?”
Hilde frowned at him. “Well, yes, Master, but… a Lady, with you and all your men. Alone? Seems…”
“Ah,” he interrupted. “And who do you propose I take? One of my sisters?” He shook his head. “I’ve made up my mind. My reputation will be enough to secure the Lady’s good character.”
There were a couple of snickers from down the table and another of his guard—a man named Johanasin—dared to speak.
“Especially with the lady already sharing the Master’s chambers,” he said behind his hand.
The silence in the hall was broken only by the thrumming of Brendan’s fingers against the table. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat.
“I hope you will enjoy your days of rest, Martin,” he addressed a young man toward the end of the table. “Sir Johanasin will be glad to take over your duties of mucking the stables this next week.” He smiled at the gasps from around his table.
A knight cleaning dung from the barn? When the knight and the stable hand both nodded, she realized there would be no one who dared oppose his orders. He was, indeed, Lord of Locktonhurst. She was both concerned and awed.
A Leap of Faith Page 3