Shana Abe (19 page)

So it had not been this maid. But there could have been another. A castle this size must have dozens of maids.

The children had not protested the delay, only watched as the young woman’s deft hands wound the long red hair up and away in some style Kyla did not know.

It was unfamiliar to her, this binding of her hair, something like a shadow from that former life she had, something she supposed she would have to become used to again. She had thanked the maid most sincerely, and that girl had smiled and curtsied, leaving as silently and efficiently as she had arrived.

The looking glass that the child Matilda held up to her face showed her a woman Kyla didn’t know. That woman might really have been a countess, with her fine gown and elaborate hairstyle. But there—those were still her own eyes behind the polished facade of the woman, a relief—and then there was no more time to reflect upon her own reflection; the glass was taken away and the girls pulled her out the door.

The boys were still waiting, all of them becoming her escort down to the kitchens. On the way they saw many adults, all of whom greeted her respectfully as they passed, and none of whom looked the least surprised to see their new countess being led around by a circle of youngsters.

And it was a good thing they were there, thought Kyla as they twisted and turned their way around the keep. Could she have found the kitchens on her own? Probably not. Lorlmar seemed even more immense on the inside than it had appeared without. The passages and rooms became a blur as she was tugged past each of them—sunlight and windows in some; tapestries in more; once a cluster of women forming a
crescent-moon audience around a girl on a lyre; several groups of men; soldiers, servants, all busy with things she could not imagine as she was rushed by them. She captured all eyes as they went past, yet no one said a word to them.

Seena joined Kyla and the children on the long wooden-plank bench in the kitchen as they all ate hot oatmeal sweetened with honey. She seemed to be expecting them, directing them to the table with a welcoming smile, serving up the bowls of creamy oatmeal with good cheer before sitting down herself beside Kyla.

“I do like to dabble in the kitchen when Cook lets me,” she said, handing Kyla a carved wooden spoon. “It isn’t often. But Roland has a penchant for my oatmeal, you know.”

Kyla hadn’t known, and didn’t really know what to make of the information now that she did.

“Uncle has gone off to Taldon today. Taldon is one of our other islands,” said Elysia.

“Oh.” Since they seemed to be waiting for more from her, Kyla added hesitantly, “There are three islands?” She felt a little foolish that she wasn’t sure of this, obviously such an important fact, but Seena only smiled again and nodded.

“Lorlreau, of course, and Taldon and Forswall. You’ll settle in soon and see them for yourself.”

“Lorlreau is the nicest,” said one of the girls thoughtfully, prompting a spirited debate among the children as to which island, indeed, was nicest and all the possible reasons that might be.

Kyla touched the tip of her tongue experimentally to the steaming cereal, then took a bite. It was hot and delicious. Perhaps she had something in common with her husband, after all, even if it was only oatmeal. She realized she was actually ravenous; her appetite seemed to have come winging back for the first time since she had left London.

“Ah, what is that wondrous smell drifting on the breeze, tickling a man’s nose until nothing can be done but leave off his studies to come and find the source?”

“Uncle Harrick!” Elysia turned her head to the doorway
leading outside, where the tall monk stood. “Come and eat with us!”

“How could I resist such a charming invitation?”

Harrick served himself, then bent down and folded himself in between two of the children, who scooted over to make room without pausing in their eating.

“I understand you are going to see the deer today?”

Kyla looked up when she realized the question was directed at her, and that Harrick was waiting patiently for her response.

“Yes. I believe so.” She cleared her throat. “That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Eleanor will be there,” said Elysia.

Kyla saw the charged look that passed between Seena and Harrick, a flash of an instant, and then it was gone.

“Will she, now?” asked Seena nonchalantly.

“Aye. She’ll be wanting to meet my new auntie.”

“Of course she will.” Harrick threw Kyla a warm smile. “See, my lady? On Lorlreau even the animals will come forth to greet you.”

“Oh, Eleanor already knows about Lady Kyla,” said Elysia, scraping the last bits from her bowl. “She told me to expect her. Remember, Seena? I told you so. But now she would like to meet her formally.”

Kyla chose her words carefully. “Are we talking about Eleanor … the deer?”

“Of course.” Elysia looked around innocently. “Eleanor the deer.”

Seena stood abruptly, whisking away Kyla’s empty bowl and that of the boy next to her, walking to the other end of the kitchen.

Harrick seemed troubled but said nothing, and soon the peculiar moment was swallowed up by the banter of the children.

It was determined that Harrick was vital to the success of the deer-viewing party for reasons that seemed to be clear only to the youngsters, and so he conceded that no, he had
nothing really more important on his schedule this morning than talking to deer, and of course he would go. From this conversation wound the thought that by the time they actually reached the deer it would be afternoon, no longer morning, and they all might be hungry again. So Seena volunteered to pack together a makeshift picnic, and soon the informal excursion was taking on all the airs of a formal occasion.

Somewhat to her consternation, the children seemed to melt away into thin air after the meal, saying they were off to prepare for the journey. Elysia slipped away without a goodbye, there one moment and gone the next when Kyla turned to find her.

Harrick had left minutes earlier to tend to a few monkly duties, he had said, and now even Seena was nowhere to be found.

Strangely, Kyla found herself alone in the kitchens.

From the corner of her eye came a flash of movement, someone walking past the open door leading outside. Thinking it might be Seena, Kyla walked over to it, taking a few shy steps out into the cool, fresh air.

No one was there. Just the empty sky, trees, a path pointing off to what might have been a garden secured by a sturdy wooden gate.

When she turned around and went back inside she found, against the sudden darkness of her vision as her eyes readjusted, two serving maids bringing out pots and tongs, talking together in soft voices. They paused, carrying a heavy boiler between them, staring at her.

Kyla smiled but neither smiled back. Instead they ducked their heads and put the round, blackened pot on the floor, then curtsied to her, avoiding her face.

“Could you tell me,” Kyla began, and then stopped. Tell her what? Where she was supposed to go? Where she was expected to be? What she was supposed to be doing?

Neither girl had looked at her yet. Kyla drew up her chin.

“Never mind.” She crossed to what she thought might be
the door she had come in through, striving for an air of confidence she didn’t feel, leaving the women to curtsy to her retreating back.

This did look somewhat familiar, the curving hall that meant she was on the outer edge of the keep. Of course, she reflected wryly, they probably all looked like this.

Unlike the warm walls of Rosemead, which were paneled with wood or whitewashed with crisp new paint, the stone structure of Lorlmar had been left mostly in its natural state, rough with chips and mortar, holding the chill of the night tightly in its crevices.

Kyla felt it keenly as she tried to trace her path back to her rooms. Every now and then she would pass other people, inclining her head to them when their eyes met, returning whatever sort of look she got measure for measure: curious stares from a group of old men, polite nods from some soldiers, shadowed smiles from several women, or nothing at all from most of the servants. But no one said a word to her. No one bothered to ask her where she was going, what she was doing. If she was lost.

The last people she had seen had been well over ten minutes ago, three noblewomen in tremendous headdresses, weaving a quilt of gossip together in a small room. Kyla wasn’t certain, but she thought it hadn’t taken nearly this long to find the kitchens from her rooms this morning.

As she crept her way around the castle the light seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer; she was circling, nautilus-style, toward the heart of the keep and wasn’t at all sure that was where she needed to go. Passages that branched off from the main hall seemed to lead nowhere she could recall seeing before; there were endless stretches of closed doors, and now, flickering torches were needed to light the way, even though it was full daylight out.

Kyla finally stopped, trying to get her bearings. Impossible. It all looked the same. Dark and dank, salty air, uninviting passages, closed doors, closed faces—

She missed Rosemead with breathtaking sharpness, like
nothing she had felt before. She missed the openness of it, she missed the gentle green hills of it, the cozy rooms with great windows of leaded glass, the people she knew and loved, her maids, her friends. Her family.

“Oh,” she said, a little catch in her throat, blinking down at the hem of her gown. She leaned wearily against the cold wall, closed her eyes, fought off the homesickness.

She was still tired. She needed a nap. That was all.

Down the hall behind her came the echo of footsteps.

For no reason at all she felt a prickle of warning at the shuffling sound. How silly. She should be grateful not to be the only person here after all. Now she could ask for directions to her rooms. To hell with her pride.

Yes, someone was coming, coming in a rather quiet way, a soft padding around the bend, almost as if they didn’t wish to be heard at all. And here she was, alone in the massive, spiraling hall of a place she didn’t know. Lost and alone.

Without thought she reached out and tried the handle of the door nearest her, pulling at the loop of metal. It was locked.

The steps had paused; Kyla could hear only her own breathing, heightened, abnormally loud to her ears. She kept her fingers curled around the solid metal of the door handle.

Seconds passed. A torch sputtered with a sizzling frenzy somewhere nearby, then died down.

She told herself she had heard nothing. She was jumping at shadows, her imagination—

And then she could make out the breathing of the other person, the one who had stopped when she had, waiting for her to move again, to cover the sounds they would make. Like a cat lying in wait for a mouse, Kyla thought with a tinge of panic. A macabre game. There was no reason for anyone friendly to toy with her like this. She tugged hard on the handle of the door once more, looking around for another escape route.

Another hallway, to her right, up ahead.

The shuffling sound came again, closer now, not bothering to be so quiet. Heavy, booted steps, coming right for her.

She sprinted to the corner of the hallway, used her hands to push herself off the side wall, and kept going down the new passage, not looking back.

A blur of doors and torches. She rounded another bend and then another, until she could see people up ahead of her, walking down the hall, leaving and entering the rooms.

When she was almost upon them she slowed to a brisk walk, smoothing her hair back, casting just one glance over her shoulder.

Shadows draped the edges of the hallway behind her, obscuring sharp details. But there was no doubt it was very empty.

T
he sky around Lorlreau was a particularly bright azure later that afternoon, Kyla noticed, and the fact that on the far horizon there loomed a dark corner of charcoal clouds seemed to daunt none of the crowd that set out to find the deer.

She had been escorted both to and from her rooms by the same maid who had done her hair, a quiet girl named Meg who had hesitantly offered to show her the way to the master chambers when Kyla had crossed her path in the hall filled with people.

Kyla told herself she had suffered nothing more than an attack of nerves, imagining she had been pursued this morning. Of course it had been her imagination. There was no reason for anyone to wish to frighten her. She had probably heard rats in the walls, that was all. Every castle had rats.

Nevertheless, she was grateful for her demure guide this afternoon, who knocked on the door before entering, who smiled at her without guile, and who then led her down to the bailey, where the rest of the party awaited her. For a moment Kyla considered mentioning her adventure this morning to someone, perhaps Harrick, but then she shook her head and dismissed the thought. It had been nothing. She was going to forget about it. Everyone here was all smiles and
welcome, making any lingering thoughts of persecution dwindle off to nothingness in the clear blue sky.

In addition to the children and herself, there was Marla again, hovering around Elysia, and a few other women, as well as Harrick. They were to walk to find the deer, it was explained to her on the way out by Joseph, one of the boys she had met this morning. Walking was best since some of the deer didn’t like some of the horses, and it would be impolite to offend the deer in their own home, and didn’t she think so?