Eight

 

The woman...nay, the lady who entered the great hall now truly resembled an angel who had tripped and fallen from heaven. Clothed from head to toe in white, she almost seemed to glow in the torchlight. Hans jumped to his feet. "Lady Zoraida," he greeted her with a bow.

She inclined her head regally. "Baron Hans, who is happier to be home than in a hut tonight, I think."

He laughed. "Indeed. I have you to thank for my swift journey. For that alone, you may stay in my home for as long as you wish."

Zoraida blushed and stared at her feet. Hans wondered if Elena had been filling her ears with tales about him while the woman had helped her dress. He opened his mouth to ask, but Elena herself appeared, followed by what seemed like every servant in the keep, bearing food for the feast. For the first time in his life, he was ignored, as every eye seemed to be fixed on Zoraida. Including his.

Elena had set his place at the head of the table, as was proper, but she set a second place for Zoraida at his right hand, instead of at the table's foot. Someone had already shifted the benches so that she had a chair to sit on, too.

Zoraida assumed her seat with all the grace of a queen accustomed to wearing such finery as she ascended her throne. It dawned on Hans that she could well be a queen – he'd assumed that because she wore rags, she was his inferior, but now...

He swallowed. "Lady Zoraida, forgive me if the fare is not what you are accustomed to. I am but a baron, one of the lowliest nobles in the kingdom, and my household had little notice of my return, so if this meagre feast is not enough, then on the morrow, I can – "

She shook her head. "As long as it tastes better than burned fish pottage, I wouldn't even consider turning you into a frog, a fowl, or any manner of beast."

Elena laughed, then smothered the sound with her hand. She evidently knew something Hans did not, he thought. Perhaps Elena had not been the only one telling tales tonight. He felt an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. He wanted to hear the lady's tales.

"I am grateful," Hans said slowly. "What did you turn your last host into? The one who served you bad pottage?"

"Oh, that would be my attempt at supper tonight. I was not taught to cook. I'm also not very good at animal transformations," she said. "I'm better at elemental magic. Fireballs. Air currents to slow my descent if I open a portal too high up. I think I made it rain once. Oh, and portals, of course. Like the one that brought us here."

Intrigued, he asked, "You mean, you travel like this all the time? Magically?"

She nodded. "It's necessary, what with fairy godmother duties and all. Truthfully, I am an enchantress, but I haven't been one very long, so I tend to stick to the easy tasks. Blessing babies. Looking after children when they hit adolescence, at least as much as I am able. I'm told they require less care once they marry, but none of my godchildren are old enough for that yet. George, the eldest, will not reach marriageable age at all if he keeps challenging dragons."

Hans wanted to ask a thousand questions, starting with whether she'd actually seen a dragon, but the servants began serving the meal and he was soon far too busy filling his plate and then his mouth. His belly reminded him that he hadn't eaten this well in weeks. The pork alone was everything he'd imagined and more.

Gentle laughter brought his attention from his plate to his guest. He was a poor host, Hans realised.

He swallowed his mouthful of roast pork, then washed it down with some cider. "Is the food to your liking?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," she said. "I had thought to conjure a feast for you in thanks for your hospitality, but I see that there is no need now. I would still like to offer a spell in payment for your kindness. If there is anything you want, name it, and if it is within my power to grant it, you shall have it on the morrow."

It was Hans' turn to laugh. "I am home, sharing a Yule feast with a beautiful, charming enchantress. What more could I wish for?"