Hilde #2
“It’s rather scandalous, but maybe if we leave your hair loose…”
Scandalous? Scandalous was better than ridiculous. In fact, scandalous was neighbor to seductive. Scandalous, she could work with.
“Yes, down, I think,” she said.
She had a sudden, unbidden vision of Elmwood leaning toward her, running his fingers through her unbound hair.
Once Francie proclaimed her “as good as good’s going to get,” Hilde headed downstairs.
Ed’s eyes almost popped out of his skull as he helped her with her cloak.
That was embarrassing, but she took it as a good sign.
Perhaps it would fluster Elmwood as well.
Though she rather thought not. He didn’t seem like the sort of man who was easily flustered by bosoms. He’d likely seen a lot of them.
He’d probably touched them as well. With his mouth and his hands.
She went to the stables to fetch Ward, Thorgoode’s massive gelding.
Han was in the stables. Hilde had no manner of luck.
“You’re back,” she said. “Did you find Rud?”
“I did,” said Han.
“Is he well?”
“Broken nose, busted shoulder. Full of regrets. He’ll mend, given time. Says thanks for tending the farm.” Han finally noticed Hilde’s clothing and eyed her up and down. Thankfully the cloak hid the worst of it, but she still asked, “What are you wearing?”
“It’s just something from the attic.” She knew that the implied question was: Why are you dressed like a two-hundred-year-old Relancian harlot?
She didn’t want to lie to Han, but she also hadn’t the faintest idea how to explain herself.
It seemed as though months had passed while Han was away, even though it had been only a few days.
It felt far too late to explain to her about Elmwood and everything that had happened and what she was hoping might still happen…
Han raised her brow.
“Where are you going?” she said.
Hilde swallowed. “I’m going to Merewyth,” she said. “To…dine with visitors.”
Han’s eyes narrowed.
“No, you aren’t. Nimsby’s down at Jak’s getting sozzled. He’s flush with coin from some swells who rented the house. There’s nothing at Merewyth now but dirty dishes and laundry.”
Bother Nimsby!
“He must be mistaken,” she said.
“You’re up to something,” said Han, still squinting at her. “Is this to do with…”
She didn’t have to finish; Hilde heard her loud and clear. Is this to do with Thorgoode, and the mess you’ve made?
“Don’t ask me questions if you don’t wish to know the answers.”
Han made a growling noise in her throat.
“Don’t keep things from me,” she said.
Hilde couldn’t help it; she snorted.
Han drew back as if she’d slapped her. For some reason that irritated Hilde beyond all measure.
“Where I’m going is nothing to concern yourself with,” she snapped.
“You’re lying. Tell me so I can stop you if you’re being an idiot.”
Anger and resentment roiled biliously inside her, like she’d stuffed herself too full at a feast and was going to vomit.
“No. You don’t get to pass judgment on me. I am taking care of this problem for all of our benefit, because I am the only one who will do what needs to be done. I don’t need to explain myself or justify my actions to you!”
Even as she said the words, she regretted them.
But if Han was hurt, she didn’t show it. She just looked steadily at Hilde, still and calm.
“I only want to help,” she finally said.
“If you’re determined to know…there is someone else at Merewyth. Lord Erol Elmwood. He’s hiding there, on the run from banishment for using a Charm that resurrects the dead.” She said it defiantly, certain that Han would balk at the very mention of a Charm.
Han’s brow furrowed as she considered this. Then Hilde saw her understand.
“Wait. A Charm for resurrecting the dead?” Han said. “You can’t mean to…”
“I’m going to convince him to reanimate Thorgoode.”
“Hilde, no!”
“What other choice do I have? The Harrier is coming here in less than two weeks. He can’t learn that Thorgoode is dead! Thorgoode is the only one who can protect Croftholde from him.”
“Fuck the Harrier. This is wrong, Hilde. It’s wrong.”
“No! You just think it’s wrong. Like everyone else, you think Charms are bad and no good can come of them, and the people who have them are bad, too!
Well, if that’s the case, then I’m bad, Han.
Your sister is a dirty Charmer! So I suggest you either forsake me completely or else get out of my way. ”
She shoved past Han, going over to the stall where Ward was waiting. She stopped to press her face against his, scratching his neck, forcing back tears.
She heard Han’s feet behind her.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” Han said. “I don’t think your Charm makes you bad.”
“You do! And I understand. Everyone fears Charmers. It’s just the way the world is.
But Lord Elmwood…he’s the first person I’ve met who simply asked me about my Charm, like it was my age or my favorite meal.
I’ve had to hide it my whole life for fear of the judgment of others, but he didn’t judge me at all, and I won’t judge him for his Charm, either! ”
“I’ve never judged you for having a Charm, or even using it. But it isn’t safe, Hilde. This plan is reckless, and it isn’t going to work.”
“Sometimes one of us needs to do something reckless so that we can survive!” said Hilde, still close to tears.
Han tilted her head to one side, as if she were trying to decipher some deeper meaning behind Hilde’s words. Hilde could have explained, could have bared her heart to her sister. But she was too afraid of saying too much and hurting her too badly.
“I don’t know what we’re talking about anymore,” said Han.
Hilde closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath.
“It’s nothing. I understand that you think my plan is reckless and foolish. Fine. But until a better option presents itself, I have no choice but to proceed. Will you get me a saddle?”
Han also let out a long, deep breath.
“Of course I will. But Hilde? There’s always a choice.”
Hilde turned away from her sister. “I thought you would have learned by now that sometimes, the only choices are bad ones.”
Hilde contemplated Merewyth as she rode up the drive.
The house was much smaller than Croftholde but also more elaborate.
It had two little round towers with pointy hats and lots of black-painted crossbeams, and generally resembled a mysterious house from a fireside tale that was presided over by some manner of magician or an old god in disguise.
It was impractical, prone to leaks, and likely full to bursting with mice.
She’d always loved it and had done many sketches of it over the years.
The stables were empty, though they had signs of recent occupation—the renters, she assumed, and she was grateful for the hay they’d left behind. She got Ward settled in, then walked up to the house.
When she reached the door, she took a deep breath.
Seduction. How did one begin?
She looked down at herself and deliberately pulled back the edges of her cloak to tuck them over her shoulder, revealing the absurd swell of breasts beneath. That would have been more than enough to seduce Thorgoode, but what if Elmwood had more refined tastes?
He already desired her, she reminded herself firmly. It shouldn’t be difficult! They had even kissed, albeit briefly.
During that kiss, she’d been too shocked to do anything except recoil.
When she thought back on it, though…the feeling of his lips against hers, the tingle of their Charms meeting, the sweet, woody scent that seemed to cling to him (she assumed it was some sort of perfume and railed against finding such frivolity appealing but liked it all the same)…
it had not been unpleasant. Aside from the shock and embarrassment.
She chewed lightly on her lips to redden them as she gathered her nerves. She could do this. She must do this.
She knocked.
There was no response.
She knocked again. Still nothing.
After a third time, her nerves shifted into aggravation. Was the man really not going to answer his door?
Oh. Nimsby was down at Jak’s. Elmwood had likely never answered his own door in his life. She could knock until her knuckles bruised and he would sit there, not answering, because it wouldn’t occur to him to do so.
She took a deep breath and let herself in.
She’d been inside Merewyth only once before, to discuss some terms with Nimsby regarding grazing, and she remembered it being dark.
At this hour, with the sun just lowering behind the trees, it was eerily picturesque.
Just inside the shadowy entrance, she spotted a candelabra sitting on an ornate sideboard.
She picked it up, intent on lighting the three candles before the sun set and left the whole house pitch-black. There must be a fire in the kitchen, she thought, so she made her way toward the back of the house, where she and Han had sat down with Nimsby.
“Elmwood?” she called out as she went, but there was no response.
Upon reaching the kitchen, she recoiled involuntarily.
Han had been right about the dirty dishes.
They were piled up all over the kitchen.
She supposed that whatever staff the renters had brought along with them had little incentive to leave the place clean.
At least there were still a few embers smoldering in the hearth.
She added several logs, shifting coals with the poker, then used a spill to light her candles.
She surveyed the mess, struggling with the urge to do something about it.
No. She had not come to Merewyth to do the washing up! She had come here for seduction. She needed to find Elmwood.
She put the dishes out of her mind and set out through the house, searching for him. The first floor was empty. She eyed the staircase to the upper floor. The railing was ornately carved with woodland creatures, and she marveled at the work that must have gone into it.
“Stop stalling,” she told herself, and pressed on.
She found Elmwood almost immediately, in the main bedchamber.