The Snow White Bride

by Claire Delacroix

  All the same, she had done what she had to do, for she could not have turned aside while any creature was in danger. In so doing, she had condemned the one person she loved more than any other.

  Her sisters slept soundly, the echo of their even breathing infuriating their youngest sibling. What sweet dreams did they savor? Why must she be tormented by this fearsome dream, nigh every night? As Elizabeth lay there, brooding and bitter, she recalled the last, new part of her dream. She sat up, so sudden was her understanding.

  She was being summoned. She did not know what her dream of Rosamunde meant, but she knew where she must go to find out.

  Ravensmuir.

  Alexander, of course, would never permit her to undertake such folly, and Elizabeth did not imagine that Eleanor would see her side in this endeavor, either, which only meant that Elizabeth had need of a scheme.

  9

  The sun rose with a reluctance that echoed Alexander’s own uncertainties in returning to his hall. The sea was like silvered glass that morning, tranquil as Alexander was not, and the sky was clearing. There was fog along the shoreline, clustered in the nooks of the coast, but Alexander found himself studying the distant waves, gilded as they were with the first light of the sun. His party galloped along the coast, checking the boundary markers along this last stretch of Kinfairlie’s borders.

  The sea had always fascinated Alexander and he realized now that the root of his fascination was its changeability. Did his fascination with his enigmatic wife have a similar root?

  Was his fascination as treacherous? The sea, after all, had shown its capriciousness in claiming the lives of both of his parents a year ago. Did Eleanor have a similar fate in scheme for him? Or was the lady falsely maligned?

  Their duty completed before the sun rose high, the party turned back to Kinfairlie as one. The horses began to canter, needing no encouragement to return to the comfort of Kinfairlie’s stables. Alexander heard hoofbeats and thought for a moment that the passing of his own party was made greater by echoes on the walls of the homes in the village.

  But no. Destriers approached. Alexander knew this with the certainty of one raised to be familiar with horses of all kinds. And they were numerous, so numerous that he feared the intent of their riders. Not for the first time, Alexander regretted that Kinfairlie’s curtain wall had never been rebuilt, no less that he had no coin with which to have it rebuilt now.

  “Who rides to Kinfairlie?” Alexander shouted as he rode into his own bailey, noting that his sentinels peered into the distance. They stood on what high points there were, the rubble of the ancient wall included, and more than one had his bow at the ready.

  “Praise be!” one sentinel shouted in apparent relief. “The laird of Ravensmuir arrives!”

  “Praise be, indeed,” Alexander said with a smile of relief, then made his way to greet his younger brother.

  It was Malcolm, against all expectation. What a blessing that his brother had come home to celebrate Christmas! Alexander had feared that Malcolm’s duties would preclude such a journey this year, though truly Ravensmuir was not far. He waved an enthusiastic greeting.

  Then Alexander’s eyes narrowed at the size of Malcolm’s company and his arm stilled. Something was amiss.

  A veritable herd of horses formed the arriving party, though not all of them bore riders. Each and every one was a glossy steed of Ravensmuir’s breeding, each one as black as the night, each one tall and proud. They stepped high and arched their necks, these beasts who had no equal in Christendom, their dark manes flowing, their nostrils flaring.

  Alexander counted all eight of the destriers currently siring in Ravensmuir’s stables, as well as the two dozen mares, which were none of them much smaller than the stallions. Seven foals had been born this year, he knew this from Malcolm’s missives, and all seven were in this company.

  With dismay, he realized that the riders accompanying Malcolm were his brother’s household staff, his ostlers, and his squires.

  They would all need to eat. This was Alexander’s first thought and his second was a mental review of his inventories. Alexander felt cursed again by the realities of his circumstance. Every joy that came to him had to be tempered these days, it seemed.

  Malcolm halted his steed before Alexander, dismounted, and doffed his gloves as Alexander did the same. Malcolm removed his helm, revealing the ebony of his hair so like Alexander’s own, and his expression was uncommonly solemn.

  “What is amiss?” Alexander said by way of greeting. He guessed that there was some issue at import behind Malcolm’s arrival, no less with the fact that his brother was accompanied by his entire household.

  Malcolm gripped Alexander’s proffered hand, then met his gaze steadily. “The ravens left.”

  Alexander’s heart sank. It could not be so! One glance at Malcolm told him that it was the truth, but still he felt obliged to argue the matter. “But they never leave Ravensmuir. You know that as well as I.”

  “Nonetheless, they have left.”

  “Surely they will return shortly, and but make a sojourn away.” Alexander forced a smile. “Who can say what birds scheme? Doubtless you lose faith too soon.”

  Malcolm’s lips set. “They never leave for even a day, you know as much. They have been gone this past week.”

  “But—”

  Malcolm interrupted him, his manner severe. “They took flight as one, dozens of them, and flew east with nary a cry. They waited for me to witness this departure, I know it well.”

  “But that is madness.”

  “They waited for me to leave the stables, that I would see their departure. They waited to ensure that I knew the import of their choice.”

  Alexander laid a hand upon his brother’s shoulder. He knew the import of the ravens’ flight as well as his brother did, and he could understand Malcolm’s bitterness. It was said that the presence of the birds at Ravensmuir endorsed the laird in power, so their absence could not be interpreted in many ways.

  The Lammergeier siblings had been taught the tale of Ravensmuir’s ravens from the cradle, though Alexander had always thought it whimsy. So, he had been convinced, had Malcolm, for Malcolm had always had even less patience with fanciful tales.

  Alexander considered the size of the watchful company with some consternation, wondering how he would feed all of these souls for the remainder of the winter. “I think you put too much credence in this old tale,” he said, hoping to reassure his brother.

  “How can it be interpreted otherwise?” Malcolm demantled with anger. “Ravensmuir has crumbled to rubble, its labyrinth collapsed and the keep fallen atop the ruins. A rabbit can scarce work its way into the old hall, so collapsed is the structure. The laird himself is dead, lost in those very caverns, his body is not recovered, and his heir is yet untested. The ravens left, as the old portent recounts, because there is no true laird at Ravensmuir.”

  “It is but a tale, Malcolm.”

  “It is an ancient tale and I see now that it is a true one. The ravens do not find me worthy, thus they have abandoned me.” Malcolm sighed and scowled into the distance, his voice softening. “I would prefer to discount it, Alexander. I would prefer to find no merit in old portents, but this one cannot be evaded. The birds merely echo my own convictions. I am ill-prepared for this inheritance. It is less than a single year since Uncle Tynan welcomed me to his household, and though I learned much beneath his tutelage, that is but a fraction of what I need to know to make any good of Ravensmuir, especially the ruin it has become.”

  Alexander considered the company, virtually all men, and found them looking as uncertain as their suzerain. “What do you mean to do?”

  Malcolm glanced back to those who followed them. “We have been living in the stables since the keep’s collapse, Alexander. Though these men have served me well, it is unfitting that they abide in such circumstance and with such uncertainty of their future.” He met Alexander’s gaze anew. “I come to ask you to take both men and steeds benea
th your care at Kinfairlie. Indeed, I come to entreat you to do as much. I surrender my all to you, for you clearly are better prepared to administer a holding.”

  “But Kinfairlie has always looked to Ravensmuir as its suzerain.”

  “I would make you suzerain of both.”

  Alexander’s chest tightened to the point that he could scarce breathe. “And what of you?”

  Malcolm straightened. “I mean to seek my fortune.” He heaved a sigh. “And perhaps in time, I will show myself worthy of assuming the burden of Ravensmuir again, if you see so fit as to grant it to me.”

  Alexander was tempted to tell his brother of the truth of Kinfairlie, but he feared that it would be too much for Malcolm to know that both holdings were in some jeopardy. “But you are already Laird of Ravensmuir, Malcolm. Is that title not sufficient for you? Think before you surrender your greatest prize.”

  Malcolm almost smiled, looking much older than his twenty summers. “As Ravensmuir stands, no, being its laird is not sufficient for me. I can do nothing for my holding but watch it crumble to oblivion. Our legacy deserves better, Alexander, and I intend to find the means to make Ravensmuir glorious again. In the meantime, I leave its administration in capable hands.”

  Alexander did not know what to say. Not only did he believe himself less than capable of succeeding in this feat, but Ravensmuir was more of a liability than an asset. It possessed no village and no fields, thus had no tithes. Its treasury had once been refilled by the trading of religious relics, but now those relics had all been sold and removed. Ravensmuir was of greater import as a legacy: it stood as a keep and piece of land to be defended for the sake of family history, but one that had little merit of its own to offer.

  Especially to a laird already destitute.

  Malcolm laid a hand upon Alexander’s shoulder, apparently misunderstanding the reasons for his brother’s reluctance to accept Ravensmuir. “Do not fear for me, Alexander. I will find the way somehow, I will return to rebuild our inheritance, and we will both know my feat to be done when the ravens land in Ravensmuir’s bailey once more.”

  Alexander’s voice rose in frustration. “Listen to yourself, Malcolm. You cannot choose your course based upon the doings of birds'!”

  Malcolm sobered and his gaze was steely. “I can and I do, for the ravens of Ravensmuir are no mere birds. You should know that as well as I do.”

  There was something uncanny about his brother’s assertion, and Alexander regarded Malcolm with skepticism. “Surely you did not learn to speak with them, as it is said the lairds of Ravensmuir can do?”

  Malcolm averted his face. “Uncle Tynan taught me much, but there is still more to learn. Will you accept Ravensmuir’s seal or no?”

  Alexander cursed, shoved his hand through his hair, and paced. Four dozen more men to feed. Three dozen massive, hungry horses. Miles of territory to defend, with no more coin in his coffers. His heart sank at the hope in the expressions of Malcolm’s company.

  But what else could he do?

  “I will hold it in trust for you, no more and no less,” he said with resolve. “Uncle Tynan chose you as his heir and I would stand by his choice, whether you have faith in it or not.”

  “Will you stable the horses as well? You are welcome to breed them in my absence, so long as you ensure that they are not poorly treated. They, too, are part of our legacy.”

  “My stable is humble, but it is yours,” Alexander said with resignation. “I know not how they will be fed, for we have not made provision for such a number of horses for the winter, but—”

  “There is hay and straw at Ravensmuir,” Malcolm interrupted firmly. “I spent the last of Ravensmuir’s coin upon it, and it is yours, of course, for you are now laird.” He dug in his purse, then put the seal of Ravensmuir in Alexander’s hand. It seemed more weighty than Alexander might have expected.

  “I thank you,” Malcolm said, seemingly relieved as soon as its burden passed from his grasp. His words turned hoarse. “I knew that you would aid me, Alexander. You were always resourceful, despite your many jests, and always would give assistance where it was most needed.”

  “You must remain until Epiphany at least, for you cannot journey through the holy days.” He managed to summon a smile of encouragement for his brother. “We might well find a solution for your woes between ourselves by that time.”

  Malcolm’s smile turned rueful. “I doubt it, Alexander, though I welcome the prospect.” He heaved a sigh, his expression a perfect echo of what Alexander’s own mood had been for much of this past year. “In truth, I do not know where I should ride, I know only that I cannot remain.” His smile broadened. “Perhaps I will find an heiress to wed.”

  “Perhaps you will find a sorceress to wed,” Alexander muttered, for he doubted that any woman’s dowry could see both of these keeps rebuilt. His brother chuckled. “Come, break your fast. A problem always looks less formidable when one’s belly is full.”

  Malcolm agreed with this, and Alexander commanded the men to take the steeds to the stable. He summoned his own ostler and ensured that that man’s authority was clear to Malcolm’s ostler, though it was apparent that the men would consult each other. The pair set immediately to assessing stables and steeds, and organizing the party that would return with wagons for Ravensmuir’s stores.

  Alexander looked at the seal, so burdened with his family’s history, as Malcolm led his own stallion into the stables. He turned the seal, letting the early light play upon it, acknowledging his mixed feelings. On the one hand, it would be an honor to wield this seal, even for a short time. On the other, Ravensmuir could only sweep the last vestige of silver dust from his treasury.

  He glanced skyward, perhaps hoping for divine aid, and spied movement at the window of the solar. He looked again and saw that it was Eleanor, her unbound hair stirring in the wind while she stood motionless. She watched him as he watched her and he felt a prickle of awareness beneath her gaze.

  He had the curious sense that she knew what he held, that she knew what had just occurred, though she could not possibly have heard their words. And what would she make of these tidings? She began to lean out the window, as if she would hail him or congratulate him over adding to his holdings.

  Alexander closed his fist over the seal and pushed it into his purse. It might be folly, but holding all of his family’s legacy made him doubly determined to survive whatever intent the lady might have for him.

  The simplest solution, he realized with sudden vigor, had been his first impulse. He had to win her affection in truth, for no woman would be anxious to lose the man who held her heart.

  By any reckoning, he had at least nine months to do so, for it would take nine months for any son to show himself—and his gender—to the world.

  Such a feat still meant that Alexander had to unveil Eleanor’s many secrets first. It was fortunate indeed that he was cursed stubborn, or so his sisters had oft maintained. This was one challenge that Alexander meant to win. He spared his wife a last glance, noting that she withdrew into their chamber, then strode to the hall.

  He had need of a fortifying meal to face the challenge this lady presented.

  * * * * *

  Horses!

  Eleanor awakened to the thunder of hoofbeats. She had fallen asleep atop the bed linens, still in her garb from the day before. At the sound of horses, she was on her feet and at the window. She caught her breath as the most magnificent beasts she had ever seen galloped into Kinfairlie’s bailey. They were exquisite creatures, each of them with a coat of gleaming black so dark it might have been unnatural.

  She had never seen their like, and Eleanor had seen many steeds. Indeed, she loved horses so that her first urge was to run to the stables to greet these beasts. They were massive but gracefully wrought, their nostrils flared and their necks arched proudly. Their tails and manes were long and silky, and as dark as ebony. They stamped with regal impatience when they were halted, as if they would have run clear to Jerusale
m, given their head.

  And there were so many of them. Eleanor leaned against the wall beside the window, her knees weak with the desire to ride one of these splendid beasts. She dared not leave the window, barely dared to blink, so anxious was she to feast upon the sight of them.

  She noted belatedly that Alexander stood before them, his hair nigh as dark as the coats of the sleek steeds. The man who spoke with him shared his coloring and his height. They seemed to be arguing. Were they friends or family? She could not hear a word they said, and her gaze flicked between the horses and her husband.

  Something was resolved, for both horses and guest turned toward the stables. Alexander glanced up, and though her impulse was to hide herself from view, Eleanor held her ground. Her heart fluttered with the hope that he would come to her, but Alexander turned away, his silent dismissal sending Eleanor’s heart plummeting to her toes.

  But she was no frail maiden who would hide in her chambers. If Alexander would not come to her, then she would go to him.

  * * * * *

  Malcolm joined Alexander in the hall, just as it began to bustle. Sentries and mercenaries broke their fast at the tables, their manner more subdued than was typical. A fire crackled merrily on the hearth, for the Yule log was scarce consumed. The smell of fresh bread filled the hall and one could hear singing in the kitchens. There was ale, though it was thin, and fresh strewing herbs upon the floor.

  “Kinfairlie looks different,” Malcolm said with a frown. “What has changed?”

  “I married on Christmas Day,” Alexander said with all the insouciance he could muster. His brother regarded him in shock. “And my lady wife takes the household beneath her command.”

  “You wed?” Malcolm sputtered. “Who? How? When?” He put his cup down heavily on the board. “This very week?”

  “It is a shame you did not come sooner,” Alexander mused, enjoying his brother’s astonishment. “For Madeline and Rhys were here for Christmas Eve, as were Vivienne and Erik.”