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Rein arrived minutes after the bell that announced the evening meal and insisted that he would be escorting me to dinner. Thankfully, I was already prepared and ready to leave.
“By your own inclination or your father’s order?” I asked as I took his offered elbow.
Tilting his head slightly to the side, he smiled at the air. “A bit of both. Father did assign me chaperone duties, but I am not complaining.”
“Why?” I asked as we started down the corridor.
“Why am I not complaining, or why did Father choose me?”
“Both.”
“I wish to know the woman who is bidding for my favorite brother’s heart.”
“Favorite brother? Does Crispin know of this preference on your part?”
“I would hope so.” He led the way down the corridor toward the main staircase.
Compared to the opulence of Worthenave’s palace and Brackenhurst’s sprawling fortress, this keep was far more modest in size and decorations. The wooden floors gleamed, but no tapestries adorned the walls. An overabundance of lanterns lit the corridor, fending off the early darkness of the winter night.
“Where do I start?”
“Pardon?” We approached the top of the main staircase to the great hall below. Stepping down one step, he paused, half turning to face me. “Which aspect of Father’s bargain do you wish to begin first?”
“All, none, I am not sure.” Below us, the doors to the outside opened and closed. Chilly air whisked up the stairs and teased the hem of my skirts. “It is so much to accomplish within two weeks.”
“I intend to give you a decent chance. Summons have already been sent to Iwan and Blaize.” He frowned. “I cannot promise they will come, but they will know.”
“Do they hold no affection for their brother?”
Rein tilted his head slightly, listening to the voices rising from below. “Perhaps not enough to overcome their aversion for our father. However, their curiosity over you might best even that.” He offered me a smile. “Not even Blaize’s wife dared to face down the Duke of Areyuthia. She let Blaize face his father alone.”
“I am not as brave as I appear.” The door below opened again. This time the blast of cold whipped my skirts and slipped beneath the hem to bite at my slippered feet not fully recovered from their icy trek.
“Come.” He gestured down the stairs with his free hand. “Mother will be there to temper Father. Besides, he usually reserves his outbursts to times when there are fewer witnesses. All of us in one room intimidate even him.”
Still, I hesitated. “What if I am the one intimidated?” I offered him a lopsided grin. “You are all rather rowdy.”
He smiled. “For a woman who faced down the dragon in his den, I can assure you that we are nothing but a bunch of pups, all bark and no bite.”
“Except for Hugo.”
Then, he laughed. “Yes, except for Hugo.”
We descended the stairs. The double doors out to the bailey stood to our left. Without pausing, Rein guided me out into the great hall to the right.
Stretching three stories upward and spanning only a fraction of the footprint of the Brackenhursts’ great hall, the room was overflowing with men and a few women and children. In the boisterous riot of jovial shouting, laughter, and jokes, I could easily pick out the brothers. To a one, they were tall like their father. Most of them tended toward leanness. Only Crispin and Hugo possessed breadth of chest to match their father. None of the others moving about the hall seemed to loom quite so effectively, despite the brothers’ almost uniform tendency toward height.
“Father insisted that you sit at the head table with Mother and him.” Rein nodded toward the half-length table slightly raised above the others.
I scanned the crowd for Crispin’s familiar face but couldn’t spot it. “Where do your brothers dine?”
“At the lower table.” He motioned to the table right next to and slightly below the raised one.
A bell rang, and as though that were a signal, the crowd in the center of the room began scrambling for places. Rein and I approached the head table. The duke and his wife were not there yet, but four place settings lined up along the side facing the hall.
Rein led me to the one left of the most ornate chair. After assisting me in sitting, he took the place to my left.
The outer door opened, sending a cold draft through the room and making the fires flare and smoke.
Hugo rose from the table to meet him, and the volume of conversations below us increased as Crispin approached, greeting them. Just as he did, though, the duke and duchess arrived from the opposite direction, and the entire room of people rose to their feet. I followed suit. Rein rose as well.
In a grand procession of two, the duke and duchess approached the high table in a wave of everyone bowing at the lower tables. When they finally reached their places next to me, I offered them a bow as well. The duke ignored me, but his wife offered me a small smile before her husband guided her to her place.
The duke signaled the beginning of the meal, and a flood of page boys and servants exited the kitchens, bearing all kinds of delicacies on great platters.
“Care for some mutton, my lady?” Rein nodded to the offered platter.
I accepted a portion despite the nausea I felt. The smells rising from my trencher were pleasant enough, but anxiety tightened my whole being so that I felt like a fraying string about to snap.
“A gift for the lady.”
A young boy bowed deeply as he placed two brown paper-wrapped packages on the table before me.
“From whom?” the duke demanded.
“Count Crispin, my lord.”
“Then bring it here. I will open it.”
I glanced down at the table where the brothers sat. Crispin met my gaze with a calm mask. He nodded so slightly that I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been studying him so intently. “As you wish, my lord.” I gestured for the boy to offer it to the duke.
The lad was already gathering up the parcels and transferring them to within the duke’s reach.
The duchess frowned over the whole process. “Do you truly think it necessary, Alonz?”
“He could give her everything and defeat the purpose of the trial.”
“Even if he does, that would only indicate that she is his choice.”
The duke grimaced as he ripped the paper open on the larger parcel to reveal a leather-bound book. “What is this?” he demanded. Flipping through the pages, he grunted in frustration. “If his choice goes against what is good for our duchy and weakens our house, I cannot condone it.”
“And if it doesn’t?” the duchess asked.
The duke closed the book with a snap and reached for the smaller package. “If she proves herself, I will consider it.” He ripped the paper from a small, carved wooden box and then opened it. Something rattled within it. Immediately closing up the box again, he set it on the book, motioning for the boy to return them to me.
“She knows our agreement: three trials. If she passes them all, I will consider their petition for an exception to the contract.”
The duchess sighed and rose.
“Where are you going?” the duke demanded.
“I will not dine with you when you are like this. Come, Lady Ryda, I will escort you to your room. There is no need for you to be subjected to my husband’s company tonight. Tomorrow evening will be soon enough.”
Rein had risen to his feet when his mother rose. I scrambled to stand as well. My stomach rumbled, but I had no choice but to comply with the request of my only ally. Without her intervention, I might not even have the little hope I did now.
“The gifts,” Rein prompted. He gathered up the book and box, pressing them into my hands as the duchess took my arm. Then, in a swirl of skirts, she pulled me around and toward the stairs to the upper rooms.
We passed through a sea of faces.
“Wait!” Crispin caught my shoulder, enclosing it in heat. “Mother, wait.”
The duchess continued moving for a few steps more. Torn between mother and son, I chose Crispin, slipping my fingers free from her hand. She turned back.
“Must you leave?” Crispin asked.
His hand slid down my arm, leaving a trail of pleasant warmth in its wake. I shivered. All I wanted to do was curl into his embrace and ignore the roaring chaos of the room around us. Instead, I sought his face above me. He didn’t meet my gaze, though.
“Your father is misbehaving, and I refuse to let him badger her. None of this is her fault.”
“But—” Crispin finally gazed down at me. Warm brown eyes assessed my features with overt concern and hunger as though wishing to memorize them.
The duchess sighed. “He wouldn’t have allowed the two of you to speak regardless. Say what you must and save the rest for tomorrow.”
“My gift speaks for me.” He seemed to be hinting at something, but I was missing the hint. Finally, because the duke’s call for the room to silence boomed out over the crowd, he frowned. “Read it, Ryda.”
Then cradling my face between his large hands, he gently guided my face down so he could press a kiss to my forehead. He might have whispered a declaration of love, but it was lost in the uproar of one of his brothers upending a tureen of soup all over the floor. Then, suddenly, he was gone, lost in the crowd.
“Come, Lady Ryda, it is best we retire before my husband loses his temper.”
The duchess took my arm and guided me through the crushing crowd. It was only when we reached the edge of the mass of people and stepped into the relative quiet of the stairwell that I realized my face was burning. Tears moistened my cheeks, and I struggled to breathe around the lump in my throat.
“Oh, dear heart.” The duchess hugged me firmly. “You have it bad, don’t you?” She stepped back and offered me a sympathetic smile. Producing a delicately embroidered handkerchief, she dabbed my cheeks briefly before pressing the fabric into my hands. “Please pardon my husband for not understanding the strength of a connection formed with friendship through adversity. We married for far different reasons.”
Her gaze grew distant as though remembering a time long past. “My father decreed it, his father required it, and that was the end of it. The pair of us struggled a year or two to come to terms with the arrangement. Even now, I wonder if he has truly settled into marriage. Regardless, I have.” She smiled sadly. “Which is why he doesn’t understand why two would willingly, eagerly unite themselves in such a way without nefarious motives.”
“So he thinks just as poorly of Blaize’s wife?”
She grimaced. “He thinks worse of her than of you. You at least have come to meet him. Blaize has made it clear he will not bring his wife to meet his father until he is certain she will be received with courtesy.”
I dried my eyes. “Good for him.”
She laughed in earnest then. It was a full and hearty sound for such an elegant woman. “I like you, Lady Ryda.” She offered me a wide grin that reminded me of Crispin’s. “You will be good for all of us.”
“If the duke lets me stay.” I half feared I would be turned out on my ear at any moment.
“He will. I will make him. I have learned how to prod him through the chinks in his armor over the years.” She squeezed my arm gently. “Don’t worry about that. Now, I can see you need more rest before tomorrow, and I must prepare my arguments for when my husband eventually comes up to bed. Let us both retire. A servant will bring a tray by for you in a bit.”
“Thank you, my lady.” I attempted a curtsey, but she waved it away.
“No more formality. Call me Mother.”
“But what if the duke never relents?”
“Regardless, I have always wished for a daughter. I would be honored to count you as one, regardless of how you and Crispin are settled.”
My face warmed for an entirely different reason. “Thank you, M...other.”
She smiled and led the way up the stairs.
An hour later, settled in my room, I finally found a moment of privacy to examine Crispin’s gift.
The beautifully worked and stained leather cover of the book caressed my fingertips as I stroked the front. No words, native or Saruthian, hid in the curls and scrolls. I flipped through the pages. Plain white expanses met my fingers, each awaiting my notes. The spine binding them together was tight and well made, as I expected. Crispin produced superior work, and I recognized his handiwork in every stitch and crease. However, no matter how many times I flipped through it, I couldn’t see any sign of a message. Maybe it was in the box.
I scrambled across the counterpane of the bed to retrieve the box. Something rattled inside as I moved it. Curious, I opened it before bothering to check the exterior. Five charcoal sticks the thickness of my pinky finger lay within the belly of the box. Each stick had been sharpened to a point, which they had maintained by some miracle despite being dropped. Coated in wax from the blunt end to the beginning of the taper to the point, they were ideally suited for writing, drawing, and general note-taking. Marveling at the care and thought that had been put into the design of such a versatile tool, I took one out to try it.
Pulling the book back into my lap, I opened it to the first page. It wasn’t blank as I had assumed. Apparently, I had missed it in my flipping. I stared in wonder at the intricate whirls, swirls, and windings of a delicate vine sprouting plump madellia blossoms and bursts of a tiny flower I had never seen before. Hidden among the vines, barely discernible below a large blossom heavy with petals, was Crispin’s message. In Saruthian, it said, “Come to me.”
Tears blurred my vision. I had to shove the book away before I stained the pages with them.
He wanted me. I wasn’t a fool for coming.
Distantly, the watch called out the hour. It was well past when I should be sleeping. Brushing away tears, I started clearing off my bed. After reaching for the book, I stowed the unused charcoal in its box. Together, I placed them in the chest beneath my clothing. There they would be safe until the next morning when I would do just as Crispin asked and find him.
~~~~~
THE NEXT MORNING, I rose early. I had much to do.
After dressing, I set to cleaning and clearing my library. I was eager for Ryda to see it at its best. Unfortunately, I had too many volumes for my shelves. As I reasoned through this issue in the early-morning sunlight, the first visitor arrived.
The door opened with a crash that rattled the windowpanes through the whole house. It was followed by a young voice. “Master Cris! Are you home?”
“In the library, Pip.”
The door banged closed. After a great deal of stomping of boots on the foyer stones, my young protégé came into view.
“Not on the wood,” I reminded him.
He obediently stopped inches from the edge of the transition from stone to wood just past the library entrance. He unbuttoned the first few buttons on his heavy woolen short cloak.
“What happened last night?” he demanded.
“Don’t shed your coat,” I instructed as I moved another stack of books from the shelves to the right of the window. “I have outdoor tasks for you today.”
“Are you going to answer me?” he asked.
“When you actually ask a question I can answer, I will.”
“What happened last night is a question.”
“A vague and unspecific question is what I heard. I could easily answer it in several ways without satisfying your curiosity. The moon rose last night, making the snow glow. One of Conrad’s cows gave birth. Three of the local lads got their britches whipped for breaking into the tavern’s backroom and ruining the ale.”
“That was not what I meant, and you know it!” Pip’s glare burned the back of my head.
Bending over the nearest pile to count the books, I smiled to myself. “Then ask for what you did want to know.”
“What happened during dinner in the great hall? Hugo said the duke tore up the gift you gave Lady Ryda, and then the duchess and Lady Ryda left in a huff.”
“I am not sure it was a huff. More of an attempt by my mother to penalize my father for his rudeness to Ryda.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Pip bounced on his heels in anticipation of my reply.
“Nothing.”
“What? How can you do nothing!” He stomped his foot. Slush splattered the wood and stone, defeating the purpose of not crossing into the library proper. “He destroyed the gift you made her.”
“Ah, but he didn’t.” Twelve. I eyed the shelf. Yes, I should be able to fit about twelve books on each shelf, which meant about seventy-two a case. Surveying the ten piles of far more than ten books each, I knew I was doomed. No amount of shuffling would resolve that difference. “He only ripped up the paper I wrapped the gifts in.”
“Still.” Pip crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t have stood for that.”
I regarded him across the towers of tomes and raised my eyebrows. “Is that so. What do you think I should’ve done?”
“Yell, stomp, punch someone, something more than sitting there like a bump on a log.”
“I didn’t sit there. I spoke to Ryda as she left with my mother.”
A long silence spanned the time it took me to choose five books to reshelve.
“So, what did she say?”
I paused as though trying to recall Ryda’s words. “She didn’t say anything. I did all the talking.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nor should you.” I set down my choices on the shelf, sliding them so they leaned to the left. “For now, I need you to do me a favor.”
“What?”
I frowned at him over my shoulder. “Would you like to rephrase that?”
“What do you require of me, Master Crispin?” he intoned in an exasperated voice.
“I want you to follow Ryda as she visits my brothers and report back to me how she is doing and what happens.”
“Truly, that is all?”
“Yes.” I started selecting another stack of books. “She is probably just waking, so you will find her in the keep.”
“Nope.” Pip rushed to button up his front. “She has been at Conrad’s farm since dawn and plans on visiting the sheep with Gawin and Gerard next.”
“Someone make sure she doesn’t get run over by that ram.”
“I will.” Pip bowed so fast his cap fell off. He plucked it off the floor before doing an about-face and running for the door. A clatter, a bang, and distant yelling announced that I was alone once again. I picked out five additional books from the stacks and resumed reshelving the section.
