Arto's Enchantress

by Morgan Henry

  The road took a winding path to the village. He showed her several farms close by the Keep. They raised several different grains and, of course, vegetables for the Keep and village.

  There was a dairy and Arto picked up several cheeses to be delivered to the local inn, since, apparently, they were heading there, too.

  Cella was ravenous when they arrived at the village inn. Called The Horse and Hound, it was cozy and well kept, as it seemed most places in the village were. A large common room held tables and chairs and there was a small raised platform at one end, presumably for when the inn had entertainers.

  Arto strode in with Cella on his arm, the cheese in a bag in his other hand.

  “Hello, the inn!” he cried cheerily and a thin woman came from what Cella suspected was the kitchen.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace.” She bobbed a curtsey at him.

  “Hello, Ana.” Arto’s warm voice indicated familiarity with the woman. “May I present Lady Cella Vallant? Cella, this is Ana Reist, the owner and keeper of this fine inn.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Ms. Reist. It’s wonderfully warm and inviting here.” Cella was enjoying the ride, but happy to be out of the cold for a bit.

  “Ah, this is the Lady visiting from Jorval, yes? Toric said he was nearly done with your boots.” Ana’s smile was friendly and welcoming.

  “Boots? Perhaps we’ll drop by after lunch and see if he’s done them.” Arto hefted the bag of cheese onto the bar. “The dairy sent this for you. If that’s the horvash cheese, we’d love some with our lunch. Unless you have another open, of course.”

  “Ah, I should know you’d be wanting the horvash by now, my Lord. Your usual, then? And for Lady Cella?” Ana cocked her head and an eyebrow at Cella.

  “I’m sure I’ll be happy with whatever Lord Arto has. This cheese must be something special if he was willing to deliver, rather than risk going without.”

  Arto laughed. “It is. It doesn’t last, though, so you won’t find any too far from Bridgend. Come and sit.”

  They ate a delicious luncheon of fresh bread, cheeses, pickles, and some preserved meat. The horvash cheese was indeed excellent. Rich and creamy, it had a little sweetness to it that complemented many of the other items on their platter. Ana served them a mulled cider to warm their insides as the fire warmed their skin.

  Cella almost didn’t want to leave, but the promise of checking on her boots was a good lure to get her outdoors again.

  They walked the few stores over to the cobbler. Sure enough, he had her boots ready. Cella was shocked, it had only been a day.

  “Ah, but I didn’t have too much pressing, my Lady, and what you’re wearing will not last the winter here,” he explained. “The other Lady with you said you had naught else.”

  Arto laced her into her new footwear. She sighed and wiggled her toes with pleasure in the softness. They were indeed much, much warmer than her other pair. With her rather cloistered life in Jorval, she had little need for heavier boots. She was only in the Lithalla or the palace and neither was the place for shearling lined, knee-high boots.

  They rode to a small rise just west of the village. Arto stopped and turned them to face the village and Keep.

  “This is my life, Cella. I look after the village, the land, the Keep, and part of the Border. I know I’ve a reputation for being a hard worker, and I am. I feel the responsibility to Bridgend and Kerban to my core.”

  He looked over the land. The wind blew their cloaks around their bodies.

  “I also know I’ve a reputation for being a part-time lover. Certainly more than a few women and nothing that would last. I don’t regret them, but neither do I long for any of them. They are my past. You are my future.”

  Cella didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. She still wasn’t sure that he wasn’t overly affected by the events of the last day.

  “I meant every word last night, Cella. I love my home, but I realize it means little without you by my side. I want you to stay here with me, to know the joys of Bridgend, to be my wife. I want our union to be God-blessed. But if you can’t stay here, I will follow you back to Jorval. I can breed horses or find something else to do.”

  She knew she should say something. She wanted to say yes, that she would stay with him forever. She loved him, no question. Did she really want to go back to Jorval alone? Did she want to go back at all?

  She didn’t think she could. True, she loved the work of being an Enchanter, but she didn’t think she could go back to her insulated existence. She had gone days without seeing anyone other than a few people at the Lithalla. She had the love of her parents, but she didn’t see them very often.

  Arto offered her a much richer life than she had dreamed of. How could she even contemplate letting that go?

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will stay. For as long as you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

  * * * *

  Arto’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest.

  Cella had said she would stay.

  His arm shot out and grabbed her body. He hauled her off her horse with a surprised squeak and planted her in front of him.

  Arto kissed his love. He claimed her soft, beautiful lips, urging her to open to him by nipping her. Once she did, he twined his tongue around hers, the way he knew she liked it.

  “I want you forever. That’s how long you’ll stay.” He went back to kissing her.

  His cock throbbed and, if it wasn’t so cold, he would be tempted to spread her on the ground and take her again. Even after last night and this morning, he wasn’t satiated. He had a feeling that he never would be when it came to his little sola.

  He pulled away reluctantly. “We should get back. It’s cold.”

  That little half-smile appeared on Cella’s face. “You’re warming me up nicely.”

  Arto gave a mock growl. “I’ll warm your bottom if you continue to give me cheek.”

  “Mmm, that’s hardly incentive to stop.”

  He gave a bark of laughter and helped her back onto Marta. “Quit tempting me. We should get the horses back. We can have tea in the library in front of the fire with the rest of our guests.”

  They rode back to the Keep. Arto always liked the sound of the hooves on the cobblestones as he rode into the courtyard. It sounded like home to him.

  They changed and went to the library. A lively discussion over coffee and tea was already in place.

  Arto wasn’t surprised at the topic.

  “So, all of the Srian can turn into tigers?” Sir Beris was asking Dochir.

  “True Srian men can. Not the women, and not generally those that have come to live in the mountains with us,” answered Dochir.

  “How is it possible? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” asked Meodi, her bright eyes watching Dochir and Valina intently from her perch in her favorite chair by the fire.

  “Kerfios has something to do with it, I could see that much,” Arto entered the conversation. “Good afternoon, Grandmother.”

  “Yes, but we don’t completely understand it. It seems something you’re born with, not that you can learn.” Dochir sat very close to Valina.

  “Why not the women?” Beris had a small frown of confusion.

  “We don’t know. It has always been this way.” Dochir shifted in his chair and looked at the fire. He moved a little closer to Valina.

  Arto decided to change the subject at Dochir’s unease. He wasn’t sure why the talk of women made the shape-shifter uncomfortable. He suspected it had something to do with Valina. Dochir hadn’t left the woman’s side since the rescue yesterday.

  “I’m glad you’re all here. I have some good news,” Arto began.

  Just then, his butler entered the room, his eyes a little wide in his normally impassive face.

  “Your Grace,” he began, “A party has been spotted at the edge of the village bearing the King’s standard.”

  What timing.

  Arto smiled. His friend had wasted no time in follo
wing Dochir.

  “I’m sure you can prepare whatever is needed. Put him in his usual suite of rooms. No doubt Cook can add another few places to the table. His Majesty will not be expecting extravagance when he arrives with no notice,” Arto reassured his butler.

  “Of course, my Lord. I will see to it.” The butler bowed and left.

  “We had better greet our guests.” Arto held out his hand to Cella.

  He saw Meodi look sharply at him when Arto treated Cella as though she was his wife.

  Meodi didn’t miss much.

  Chapter 24

  Cella and Arto waited just inside the doors from the Courtyard into the Keep.

  The butler had issued his orders and was in the courtyard orchestrating the whirl of men, horses, and servants. Cella peeked out the door and was entranced by the colorful mix of man and beast.

  Each groom had a couple of horses. King Graydon had brought only a few retainers with him. She saw Doan conferring with the butler. There were a couple of guards she recognized from Kerfaen Keep and another Knight who looked familiar, but she couldn’t put a name to his face.

  There was also a beautiful lady, who apparently was with the Knight. He helped her from her horse and gently herded her to the door to the reception area.

  The butler gravely announced King Graydon’s entrance, and then Countess Aenid of Clawynd and Lord Merrin.

  Arto looked shocked, then broke into a huge grin.

  He bowed to his King, who grinned back and waved him aside. Arto enveloped Merrin in a backslapping embrace, then bowed low to his wife, Aenid.

  “Ah, where are my manners?” Arto shook his head. He dragged Cella, who had politely greeted King Graydon already.

  “Merrin, Lady Aenid, may I present Lady Cella Vallant?” Arto held her hand in his as she curtsied to the couple.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you both. His Grace has spoken of how happy he is that you found each other.” Cella smiled at the way Merrin’s arm was back around Aenid now that their cloaks were off.

  “Come to the library, there’s hot drinks and food for you.” Arto ushered them all back to the library.

  As King Graydon entered the book-lined room, all stood to greet him. He bowed back and went over to Duchess Meodi.

  “Duchess, it’s been far too long. Your presence is missed at court. The younger generation could use a strong, beautiful role model such as you,” Graydon told her with deep sincerity.

  “Sire, you always were such a flatterer,” Meodi returned with a smile. “I’m quite content to enjoy my home.”

  The footmen attending the library served warm drinks and pastries. Conversations started up between various parties and though the wind picked up more and swirled the snow around, they were all warm in the library.

  Lady Aenid pulled Cella aside.

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Lady Cella. I’m sorry we weren’t in Kerfaen to meet you at Year End.” The two women commandeered a couple of chairs with a small table between them.

  “I’m pleased to meet any of Lord Arto’s family. He has spoken with such warmth of you and Merrin. It sounds as though your wedding was beautiful.” Cella thought that Lady Aenid would have been stunning in her wedding gown.

  “All weddings are beautiful, especially if they’re your own,” Aenid said with a wry laugh. “Merrin tells me you’re an Enchanter?” At Cella’s nod, she continued, “That must be fascinating! I’ve always admired what you can do to make our lives easier.”

  It was Cella’s turn to laugh. “And Healers don’t make our lives easier? Arto told me you were one of the more powerful Healers in Kerban.”

  Aenid sipped her coffee. “We’ll have to admit we’re both talented women who deserve handsome, talented men.” She winked at Cella.

  “I can only bow to your superior knowledge of the brothers.” Cella winked back.

  “How did you and His Majesty come to be here together?” Cella was quite curious. She knew that Clawynd was north and Kerfaen west.

  Aenid leaned toward her. “Merrin and His Majesty have sdoro, though that is not considered common knowledge.”

  Cella was impressed. Sdoro were a pair of twinned objects that were enchanted to facilitate communication between the two. They were very difficult to enchant, thus quite expensive and rare.

  “His Majesty contacted Merrin and asked that he join them. He was worried about you and Arto. I’m relieved to find you all well.” Aenid looked over to where Graydon, Merrin, and Arto were huddled together, talking in low voices. “I suspect Arto is reporting right now.”

  After they had chatted for a few minutes, Arto came over. He went to one knee by Cella’s chair and took her hand.

  She looked at him curiously.

  “May I steal Lady Cella from you, my dear sister?” he asked.

  “I suppose so, my dear brother. But only if you’ll promise to visit in the spring,” Aenid teased gently.

  “I think I’ll be able to arrange that. Come, sola.” He helped her up and led her to the center of the room.

  “If I may have your attention, Your Majesty, Grandmother, Lords and Ladies.” Arto waited a moment until the room quieted.

  “I stand before you a very fortunate man. We have managed to foil the Torquin again and keep our loved ones safe. But even that pales in comparison to what happened this afternoon.”

  Cella suddenly had a suspicion on what Arto was going to announce. Was she ready for this?

  “The beautiful and intelligent Lady Cella has agreed to become my bride and Duchess of Bridgend.”

  There were plenty of gasps from the assorted nobles present. Cella noted Meodi didn’t. She had a small, yet quite satisfied, smile on her face.

  Graydon was the first to recover.

  “Many congratulations to you, Duke Arto. The Lady Cella is indeed a prize beyond measure. You have our best wishes. To the happy couple.” He raised his glass of cider and the rest of the company followed suit.

  Well-wishers surrounded Cella. Valina was exuberant in her excitement. The Dowager Duchess was less boisterous, of course, but she seemed pleased.

  “Well, my dear, I’m quite happy to have another granddaughter. Have you discussed the ceremony?” Meodi asked.

  “Oh, we can plan it together!” Valina exclaimed. “It will be such fun!”

  Cella’s heart dipped to her belly. A large ceremony where she was the focus of attention was not what she desired. In her happiness to stay with Arto, she had forgotten about the ceremony.

  “Ah, his Lordship and I haven’t discussed it yet. I was hoping for something small.” She swallowed. “Very small.”

  Valina looked at her sympathetically. Cella had told her friend of some of her mishaps in the Vizier’s court.

  “You know, there’s not a lot of reason to wait. Your parents and the Vizier need to be contacted, but you’re able to make your own decision on whom to marry. Not that they would object to this match. Do you want them to come?” Valina asked.

  Cella thought. “I would like them to be here, but they are unlikely to leave Jorval. My father is too close to the throne to go wandering about and mother would never travel without him.”

  “Then we’ll persuade my son to have a small ceremony in a couple of weeks,” Meodi announced. “If that is your wish, I will certainly support you, my dear.”

  “Thank you, Duchess.” Cella was grateful they both seemed to understand her wish for understatement.

  So, in two weeks, Cella was waiting to join Arto in front of a priest of the God. The deep green fabric she had eyed in the village shop was now her wedding gown. She felt truly beautiful in the rich fabric that was heavily embroidered. She matched Arto, arrayed in a tunic of the same green with the house symbol emblazoned on the front.

  Evergreen boughs provided some decoration, mixed in with white silk bunting. Small sprays of bluish winterberries were added. The servants had outdone themselves with food. Delicacies of all sorts were on trays awaiting the end of the ceremony.

>   King Graydon, Merrin, and Aenid had stayed for the nuptials, as had Valina and, of course, Dochir. He didn’t go far from Valina’s side. Sir Beris and the rest of the knights were in attendance. A number of Arto’s friends from nearby estates joined them as well.

  Cella’s parents were unable to attend, as expected, but they had sent their congratulations via messenger. A gift would be arriving in a few weeks, but they didn’t say what it might be. Arto was hoping for another horse.

  Much of the village was present to witness the celebration. Cella could see some familiar faces—the cobbler, Ana from the inn, her dressmaker. Cella had come to know more of the villagers over the past weeks. They were generally a pleasant and hard-working group. She was proud and honored to become their Duchess.

  She and Arto walked down the aisle to the priest. They joined hands as the priest gave the blessing. They exchanged rings and Cella felt the swirl of kerfios as the God blessed the union.

  She felt it to the depths of her soul. The magic tendrils whirled around them and tied them together irrevocably. She could sense Arto’s presence in a part of her heart, and he would be there forever. A deep and profound sense of joy filled her, and when she looked into Arto’s eyes she knew he was feeling it, too.

  The celebration afterward was delightful. There were many jokes made at Arto’s expense. Apparently he had been quite vocal in his opposition to marriage and one and all were reminding him about it.

  How had she become so blessed?

  She had set off on a journey that she was dreading, planning on merely enduring until the end of the year.

  Instead, she had found a wider and more wonderful world than she had imagined, filled with friendships and a deep and abiding love.

  THE END

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Morgan was able to realize a long unfulfilled dream when Siren accepted her manuscript for publication. Though she had always loved reading and writing, she made the decision to pursue a career in science when she was still in high school. It was a choice based in a need for stability and financial security.