Summers at Castle Auburn (28 page)

“Lord Hennessey,” I said in a kind voice. “I do not wish to marry you.”

He gazed at me a long moment in silence. His close-set eyes looked unhappy enough to make my heart feel a little pain; I would have done anything to have this interview at an end.

“And is that your final word?” he asked at last.

I came to my feet, laying aside my goblet and holding out my hand. He rose reluctantly and took my hand in his. “No,” I said. “My final word is that I wish we could always be friends. If that is not too much to ask of you.”

“I doubt I'll be seeing much of you,” he said with a shrug. “I don't get to Auburn often.”

I struggled not to laugh at this ungracious reply, though I still felt sorry for him. “Well, then, I'd like to know you did not think harshly of me for this day's work,” I said.

“I'll be sad, I think,” he said. “You can't change that.”

“I would if I could,” I said.

He dropped my hand. “I must be going,” he said. “I don't believe I'll stop in the village after all.”

“Then allow me to do this one last favor for you,” I said. “We have two kegs of cider out back. Let me fill a jug for you to take on your way as a parting gift.” He hesitated, clearly wanting to refuse. I added, “So that I can be sure you are not angry with me.”

“Very well,” he said. “And then I must leave.”

I hurried back to the kitchen, pulled down one of the empty
jugs that lined the shelves, and filled it almost to the brim with cider. Then I rummaged through the dried herbs on the pantry shelves till I found a bottle of rue-bane. I shook a handful of this into the jug before stoppering it. Finally I shook the container vigorously to mix the ingredients.

Grandmother and Milette watched me without speaking.

“A gift for my friend to take on the road,” I explained with a half smile. “A sort of remembrance.”

“Not with rue-bane,” my grandmother retorted. “That's for forgetting.”

“I know,” I said. “That's the point.”

Hennessey was already at the door, impatiently waiting, when I returned to the parlor. He crooked his finger through the loop at the bottle's neck and thanked me gravely for the gift.

“Travel safely,” I said. “I wish you well.”

He nodded, gave me one last hopeless stare, then turned and strode to his horse. I watched the whole cavalcade ride away, and I was depressed for the remainder of the day.

 

T
HE NEXT NEWS
I received from Castle Auburn was even worse.

It was a letter that came from Elisandra three weeks later, which, as was my habit, I ripped open as soon as it fell into my hands. The first few sentences expressed an interest in my health and a response to some minor observations I had made in my own last letter. In the second paragraph, she mentioned how she and Daria had detoured to Faelyn Market for a few days on their way back from Halsing Manor, and how they had done nothing but shop,
to my infinite delight and weariness.

The third paragraph was what made me stand stock-still in the middle of the parlor and devour the rest of the words on the page.

After considering the matter carefully, and having some long, secret meeting with Uncle Jaxon, Lord Matthew has decided that my marriage to Bryan should go forward as planned this summer. He has waited so long to make the announcement, I think, because of protracted negotiations with Dirkson of Tregonia, which have somehow fallen through. Even Kent was
not too specific on what went sour in the arrangement with Dirkson, but Matthew returned from there in a rage not three days ago. And yesterday he made the announcement about my wedding.

Everyone here is in a flutter, because he has set the day for the summer solstice, which only gives us a few months to prepare. And every bride knows that that is scarcely enough time to pull together a wedding! Fortunately, Matthew himself is taking responsibility for the guest list. All I have to worry about is my gown. My mother has some plans for teas and breakfasts and balls to accompany the event, but I will leave that to her. She is in transports, of course; this is the day she has dreamed of for so long.

I have told Bryan that I would like the ceremony to be as simple as possible, and he has agreed that we should each have two attendants apiece. He has chosen Kent and Holden of Veledore. I, of course, want only you by my side, but I have decided that your friend Angela should be my second bridesmaid since I must have two.

There has been other news here which I am sure you will be interested in hearing. While he was traveling back from Ouvrelet House, Bryan apparently had some trouble on the road—bandits who attempted to hold him up, not realizing what an august personage he was. He was never in any real danger, since he travels with an escort of twenty men, but the guardsman Roderick (whom I am sure you remember) distinguished himself well in defending the prince. So, now Bryan has named Roderick his personal guard, to attend him at all times. It is a great honor, as you might imagine, though I have not had a chance to ask the Personal Guard how pleased he is with his new appointment.

One final note, and then I really must send this on its way. Hennessey of Mellidon came by Auburn a week or so ago on his way back home after a tour through the southern provinces. Kent told me afterward that his father was very puzzled by the man's attitude, for you must know that Arthur of Mellidon has been practically insisting upon an alliance with the castle for the past year, and you were the alliance they had settled on. But—according to Kent—Hennessey told Matthew that he had decided to look elsewhere for a bride, and that he realized this upset their negotiations and that he was willing to make some concessions because of it. Kent told me that his father had been afraid you would refuse Hennessey, and had been considering how to coerce you to the match, so this left poor Matthew completely nonplussed.

Kent and I speculated that Hennessey came to see you in the village and was so taken aback at your lifestyle there that he could not bring himself to make the offer. I would commiserate with you, except I know this was not an offer you were hoping for—and I tell you this now merely to relieve your mind. But do not think Matthew has forgotten you! I'm sure he is already scheming to marry you off to some other political ally, so expect to be inundated with suitors at my wedding.

Oh, Corie, I miss you most dreadfully. I count the months and weeks and days until I shall see you again. All my love, Elisandra.

I read this letter three times. So much in it to make me ponder, worry, and shiver! Elisandra to marry Bryan after all—what havoc would that wreak in her life, or would she, like Kent, be able to exert some influence over the wayward prince? Roderick to be Bryan's personal guard—how galling that news must have been to the homesick soldier who had told me plainly how much he hated the prince.

The only cheer the letter held for me was the news about Hennessey. It was good to know, in this calamitous world, that there was one soul that was not troubled and under siege—and that I had been the one to buy him peace. A small comfort, perhaps, but better these days than none.

 

F
OUR MONTHS LATER
I was on my way to Castle Auburn, to spend the summer at the royal court and witness my sister's marriage to the prince.

A
t Castle Auburn, everything was mayhem.

The suites that Elisandra shared with her mother, her maid, and (sometimes) me were filled—every room, every corner—with the items of her trousseau. Formal gowns, casual dresses, petticoats, chemises, shoes, slippers, cloaks, shawls, gloves, hats, bed linens, nightclothes, jewelry boxes, perfume bottles, hair combs, trinkets, vases, books—everything old and new that Elisandra planned to take with her to her new quarters across the castle was laid in piles and mounds and trunks around the rooms. Nothing could ever be found. Daria and I spent one whole day looking for a missing glove, which we never located, which required Elisandra to revise the ensemble she had planned to wear to a formal dinner that night—which required us to spend another two hours searching for the shoes that matched the new dress.

Greta was in a perpetual tizzy, constantly issuing orders to Daria, Cressida, and me, then remanding those orders with her next breath. She looked as if she never slept, spending the night hours instead planning table arrangements, counting guest lists and reviewing all the things that could go wrong at the wedding. It was a real pleasure to me to see her go an entire day with her hair imperfectly combed and her earrings mismatched, and one day the back of her dress was
unbuttoned till noon at least before someone mentioned it. That day my happiness was almost unbounded.

Nonetheless, I spent most of these days in a state of low-grade worry, watching Elisandra and wondering what she was thinking. As always, that was impossible to tell. Upon my arrival at the castle, I had taken our first solitary moment together to ask how she was faring and if she was dreading this marriage to Bryan. She had laughed, squeezed my hands, and said, “Don't be silly. I have prepared for this for years.” She even met my gaze, calm and composed as ever.

I could not help but doubt her.

The wedding was set for the morning following the summer solstice, which meant we would have the longest day of the year to pass in revels to celebrate the event. There was to be an entire week of festivities preceding the actual ceremony, including formal balls, hunts, dinners, contests, and fairs. Representatives from each of the eight provinces were to be present; this was to be a show of unity such as the country had not seen since the funeral marking the death of Bryan's father.

In the weeks leading up to the ceremony I divided my time between helping Elisandra as much as I could, and renewing my old friendships at the castle.

I was not staying out quite as late as I had during my previous visit, but I did manage to spend a couple of convivial evenings at the main gates swapping stories with Shorro and Cloate. The two of them were proud to inform me that they had been assigned night gate duty for a second year in a row—a high honor, they said, though I asked innocently if perhaps it was Kritlin's way to avoid seeing their unprepossessing faces by the light of day? I had also asked, the very first time I saw them, how Cloate's romance was progressing, and was thrilled beyond measure to learn that he was planning to marry that very summer.

“Because she's accepted me, Kritlin's already given me an apartment in the family barracks. We've decided on the day a week before the prince's marriage. It seeming a very good season for weddings,” Cloate said. He was beaming. I had never seen the dour man so
elated, and it gave me a little hope. Some folks, it seemed, could still marry for love—and even if that love had been assisted by magic, it still seemed a positive omen.

“Let me know when
you
're ready to settle down,” I told Shorro. “I'll mix up a special potion just for you.”

“Not till the moon falls,” he said with a grin. “Not till the world ends.”

I did not go by the aliora quarters at night anymore, though I dropped by during the afternoon hours more than once. Andrew had formally introduced me to the young girl named Phyllery, who was so changed I almost would not have known her. She was shy but smiling, and she sidled forward to meet me, giggling behind her hand. Someone had plaited her hair back with flowers and ribbon, and she was dressed in a pretty pink gown hung with all sorts of lace and bows. She looked—arms and braids and sashes all aflutter—like so many banners dancing in the wind; she was nothing but long thin streamers of color. Still laughing behind one palm, she laid her free hand in mine, and I felt that shock of delight that the touch of an aliora so often brings.

“She seems to have recovered nicely,” I said to Andrew.

“In most ways,” he said.

“How are you? How do you like living in the castle?” I asked the girl. She just blushed, giggled again, and pulled her hand away.

“She doesn't talk,” Andrew said.

“She hasn't learned human speech?” I asked.

“She doesn't talk at all.”

I looked at him sharply. “Could she talk before? In Alora?”

He nodded. “Oh yes. And when she arrived here, she told us—many things. But since then—” He shrugged. “We are grateful for the smiles, at least. And Angela talks enough for three, so there is no reason Phyllery should need to speak.”

So, this little bashful child had been sold into Angela's service. That was good news, at least; Angela's only spite was verbal, and even then, there was no real malice in her. She was always carelessly kind to her servants. This child would fare well enough at her new mistress's hands.

Nonetheless, I sighed, and Andrew gave me a sympathetic smile. “You seem sad, Coriel.”

I nodded. “The world makes me sad these days. Things I would not have noticed a year ago seem dreadful to me now. Is that a function of growing older? And will everything seem more dreadful every year, from now until I die?”

Andrew smiled again and held out his hand to me. I let him draw me into his embrace, and rested my head against his flat, warm chest. His arms came around me, straw-thin and weightless as reeds. It was like being hugged by cattails and bird feathers, and yet it was incredibly comforting. I could not remember the last time I had received solace in Andrew's arms. I closed my eyes and allowed the sweet scent of his skin to lull me to calm.

“Aren't you very young to be seeing the world as such a bleak place?” he asked in a soft, chiding voice. “What has happened to make you so fretful and unhappy?”

“Everything,” I said, my voice muffled against his shirt. “Phyllery. Elisandra. Yes, and Roderick and Hennessey and everybody else, too. What's to become of any of them?”

“I can't imagine what their troubles are,” he began, his voice warm and amused, “but I think—”

“Andrew! Coriel! Stop that!” The sharp voice broke us apart in astonishment, and I whirled around to face a sight I had never seen: Cressida in a rage. She strode forward and actually grabbed my arm, and her grip hurt.

“Cressida! What—”

She yanked me from Andrew's side and glared at us both impartially. “Bad enough that the human girl comes up here to consort with aliora—bad enough when she was a child that she would go to you for comfort. But now—” She pulled her implacable gaze from Andrew's face and frowned at me instead. “And you, Corie. You're an adult, you know better than to lounge in the arms of men—”

“I was just—”

“Don't tell me your innocence! You're a noblewoman in the royal castle, and you know how every gesture is watched! To stand
embraced like that with someone who is no better than a servant—if Lady Greta should see you, or the lord regent—”

“Neither of whom has ever climbed these stairs,” Andrew murmured.

“Or
anyone
,” she added, ignoring him. “You've your own reputation to think about, that should be foremost in your mind, but you jeopardize Andrew, too. What do you suppose happens to servants caught loitering with the castle gentry?”

“They get thrown off of mansion tops,” I said in a low voice, thinking of Tiatza. “But I did not think—I was just—”

Cressida's voice softened as her face lost its harsh mask of rage. She dropped my arm. “You have to start thinking, Corie. All the time. You cannot make foolish mistakes.”

I spread my hands. “I'm sorry. I won't come up here anymore.”

“That would be best,” she said.

I had not meant it; it had just been a conciliatory gesture. “But I—” I began.

She nodded. “I know. But the prince becomes king this year, and the whole world changes. Now be good. Go back to your room. I'll see you when I come to dress you for dinner.”

And like that, my best refuge was taken away from me. I did not really believe that I was jeopardizing the aliora by spontaneous displays of affection—I had often seen Elisandra hug Cressida and Bryan would sometimes hang upon Andrew's arm—but Cressida was right; I was no longer a child. If I wanted to keep a sterling reputation at the castle, I had to guard my actions carefully from here on out.

But
did
I want to keep that reputation—?

I went back to my room and, not for the first time, pondered what might become of me.

 

T
HE OTHER FRIENDSHIPS
were easier to maintain. Angela shrieked with delight the first time she saw me, and insisted on drawing me back to her room to tell me everything that had happened in the
past nine months. Kent made a point of taking me riding three times in my first two weeks back, merely, it seemed, for the pleasure of my company; he did not once say he had missed me. He seemed relaxed and amiable as ever, but a little withdrawn, as if cares that he could not discuss lay heavily on his mind. This miffed me a little, for once or twice last year it had seemed that he had chosen me for a confidante. I, at least, had thought we were closer than his remoteness suggested.

But I did not question him about his silence.

It was harder to get a chance to speak with Roderick, though I saw him continually. As Bryan's personal guard, he accompanied the prince everywhere when Bryan left the castle confines. During formal dinners and dances, when there were many strangers present, Roderick also followed Bryan indoors from room to room. During dinner, the guard would stand at alert attention just behind Damien's chair, watching the servants, the visitors, and the prince. I tried to catch his eye from time to time, and occasionally he would give me an infinitesimal nod, but he never once smiled.

I could not imagine that he felt much like smiling. I could not imagine that he enjoyed his new position. For his sake, I was glad the wedding was drawing so close, because I knew he planned to leave Bryan's service once the prince was married. For my own sake, I would be sorry to see Roderick go—and, of course, for Elisandra's sake, I wished the wedding day would never dawn.

As it turned out, there were other weddings to celebrate first—a strange wedding, a strange celebration, and the beginning of more changes than I could count.

 

T
HREE WEEKS BEFORE
the solstice, I was in the breakfast room much earlier than my wont, with the result that I had the opportunity to share that meal with Bryan and his uncle. I had not slept well the night before and had decided, when dawn came unforgivingly in, that I may as well get up. The day itself might have more to offer than the restless night.

The first offering was Bryan, turning away from the sideboard
with a full plate in his hands. “Corie!” he exclaimed. He instantly laid his plate on the table in front of Damien, and bounded across the room to kiss me noisily on the cheek. This had been his method of address since I arrived at the castle at the beginning of the summer, and it still made me nervous. He had changed so much in such a short time. His fair skin seemed ruddier, coarser, the skin of a man much older; his red hair seemed too bright to match his own flesh tones. His quick, familiar hug always felt shockingly intimate, and the expression on his face—well, it was hard to describe. My grandmother would say he looked to be full of mischief, but it seemed worse than that to me. He looked feverish, at times. Overexcited. Unrestrained.

On this morning, I took the kiss and turned instantly to greet the regent, sitting over his own plate at the table. “Bryan. Lord Matthew. Damien. Good morning.”

Damien, of course, said nothing, merely bobbed his head in a silent greeting. Matthew spared me one quick look from his narrowed eyes. He was a smooth and calculating man, who had always seemed, to me at least, completely unemotional. Was this how Kent would turn out? Was his coolness this summer just a portent?

“Good morning, Lady Coriel,” Matthew said formally. “It's rare to have the pleasure of your company so early in the morning.”

“But delightful,” Bryan amended. “Here, sit by me. Damien will make room.”

“Let me get some food first,” I said to Bryan. “Well, I woke early, so I thought I'd rise early,” I replied to Matthew as I filled my plate. “I admit, it is a rare hour for me.”

“We're happy to see you,” the regent said as I settled at the table, next to Bryan and across from Matthew. “I have learned today that interesting guests will be arriving soon. Ordinal of Wirsten will be attending your sister's wedding as part of the viceroy's train. He's an intelligent, sober man with good property. I think you'll enjoy meeting him.”