Chapter Eleven
“Lady Anosia?”
Anosia looked up from the harp she had been fussing with only to see Orion standing in the doorway.
She was in a smaller chamber off the feasting hall, a demilune-shaped room with windows that faced the river and the road, one that was smaller and more intimate for things like conversation or games or even music.
Anosia did much of her entertaining in this chamber, and even now, she was trying to tune her small harp so she could practice a new song that she’d purchased from a merchant in town, but Orion’s appearance had her thinking she might have an audience for her practice.
Truthfully, she wasn’t surprised. The man had stuck to her like flies on honey since nearly the moment he arrived.
He was young, perhaps ten years younger than she was, but very handsome and well mannered.
She didn’t want to encourage him, but it was nice to have someone good-looking and articulate around.
So often that was not the case. He’d paid for the full day with her today, and he was a little early, but it seemed that their time was about to start.
Truthfully, she didn’t mind.
“Sir Orion,” she said, smiling at the debonair knight. “Good morn to you.”
“And to you,” he said. “May I come in?”
“Of course,” she said, indicating a chair nearby. “Please sit. I was just tuning my harp, but the cold morning is hard on the strings. They do not want to tune.”
“Oh?” he said, taking a seat. “I heard you plucking the strings and it does not sound bad to me, but then again, I know nothing of music, so do not trust my opinion.”
Anosia laughed softly. “Thank you for the warning.”
“Are you going to sing something?”
She nodded, indicating a piece of vellum that was affixed to a piece of wood. “There is a merchant in town who has musical instruments and sometimes he has music,” she said. “He has just returned from Paris and said a man who played the citole sold him this song, so let me see if I can play it.”
Orion partially came out of his seat to see what she was indicating. It looked like a bunch of stroke marks with words beneath them. “And that is music?”
“It is, for the most part.”
“You can read it?”
She nodded. “A little,” she said. “I was taught to read it as a child where I fostered because the lady of the house was very fond of music and wanted all of her wards to learn how to sing and play a harp.”
He sat back in his chair, watching her fumble with the strings. “My training was somewhat different.”
She smiled. “I can imagine it was,” she said. “Knights are not usually taught singing, although I have known some that were. I suppose it depends on where you fostered.”
“True,” he said. “I fostered at Kenilworth.”
“Ah. With the master knights.”
“Indeed,” he said. “Would it be too much to ask where you fostered?”
She plucked the string, listening to the note. “Prudhoe Castle.”
“And they trained you in music?”
She grinned. “Of course,” she said. “Why so shocked?”
He shrugged. “Because it’s a battle castle,” he said. “They are not known for their arts and music.”
She finished plucking the string, having reached a note that was satisfactory. “With their male fosters, mayhap,” she said. “But female wards are trained in the great arts. A truly refined woman knows many things, and the Lady of Prudhoe was determined we should be proficient in it all.”
“And you clearly learned your lessons,” he said. “Is that where you met your husband? Prudhoe?”
Her smile faded. “I explained the rules to you yesterday, my lord,” she said. “My name is Anosia. Someone told you that I am a widow, but beyond that, we do not speak of our past or our families. I am what you see—a muse for your entertainment and nothing more.”
Orion knew that. It was Aidric who had told him about Anosia, and he had heard it from Jareth, who had spoken to Anosia yesterday when she explained the value of a life at Aphrodite’s Feast for women with no other choices in life.
He knew that she had been married to a knight who had perished at the Battle of Lewes, and he further knew that she had two small daughters.
But that was really it. From his own observations, he knew that she was an elegant creature, beautiful and poised, and in his opinion, she had no business being in a place like this.
A woman like that was meant to be married to a powerful lord and cherished.
“You are far more, lady,” he said quietly. “I knew that when I first saw you. You are far too fine for a place like this. You would make a wife a man could be proud of.”
She smiled, genuinely, at the soft flattery. “I was, once,” she said. “It is kind of you to say so. Now, would you like to hear my new song? I am only practicing, but I think I can produce a worthy sound.”
“You could not do anything else,” Orion said, sitting back in his chair. “Go ahead. I would like to hear you.”
With a modest, if not somewhat flirtatious, glance at him, she cleared her throat and began to strum the strings of the harp.
Underneath the moonlight, shadows begin to fall,
Whispers of thy heartbeat echo through the hall.
A love so passionate, burning like a flame,
But in the darkest moments, nothing feels the same.
She abruptly came to a halt, staring at the words, but just as quickly she began playing the notes again, gently strumming the harp.
But no singing. Orion found himself watching her face as she read the music, seeing what looked like distress on her features.
But she continued to play, very skillfully, until the song was finished.
When it was over, she looked at Orion, smiling wanly.
“It is only practice, after all,” she said. “I will become more proficient the more I play it.”
“It is beautiful,” he murmured. “But why did you stop singing the words?”
She struggled to keep the smile on her face and finally gave up. “Those are words of pain, not of joy,” she said. “I do not wish to sing of pain.”
“Because you’ve had pain of your own?”
“Mayhap.”
He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gazed steadily at her. “Do you never talk about yourself at all?” he asked. “Or do you truly feel like you’re nothing more than the furniture?”
Her brow furrowed. “Clearly, I am more than the furniture,” she said. “But there is safety in anonymity.”
“I understand,” he said. “But you… you’re not like the other women in this place.”
“And you’ve been around enough to know that?”
He shrugged. “I am a knight,” he said. “I am trained to observe. I have seen the young woman who only wants men in her bed. I’ve seen another young woman who talks to the food she eats and recites the most detailed poetry without the benefit of reading words before her. And then there’s you.”
“So there is.”
“Is that all you want out of life?”
“You ask many questions, my lord.”
“That is because you intrigue me.”
Anosia wasn’t sure what to say to that. She’d had nosy clients before, but Orion was coming on strong.
She knew he was an elite knight, undoubtedly from a good family, but that didn’t give him the authority to know everything about her.
As she struggled to come up with yet another refusal to allow the man into her personal world, Heracles was suddenly at the door of the chamber.
His gaze sought her out.
“Anosia,” he said quietly, “Lord Ellersby is here.”
Anosia immediately stood up. “Thank you,” she said. “I will come.”
Orion stood up, too. “Why?” he said. “Where are you going?”
Anosia paused. “Lord Ellersby has come to listen to me read the journal his dead wife kept,” she said. “He wants to hear it in my voice. It reminds him of her.”
Orion scowled. “Ridiculous,” he said. “I paid for the entire day with you.”
Anosia cocked an eyebrow. “But you are early,” she said. “It will not take me long to read to him, and then we will have the rest of the day uninterrupted.”
She started to leave the room, but he caught up with her, blocking her way. “I will pay you double what he will,” he said. “I want to hear more of the song. I want to talk to you.”
Anosia stood her ground. “Lord Ellersby has a session with me every week at this time,” she said.
“I told you yesterday that our time would start midmorning because I will not tell an old man that I will not read to him simply because you want to talk. I will see you afterward if you still wish it, Sir Orion, but for now, Lord Ellersby calls.”
With that, she pushed past him, out into the feasting room and on into the foyer, where a very old man with a bound book in his hand was waiting for her. Anosia greeted him sweetly as Orion watched and proceeded to escort him into the reception chamber. Far away from Orion and his demands.
And he knew it.
But he also knew he’d see her later.
Dejected, he went to break his fast with Aidric and Britt, who were in the feasting chamber, devouring an egg dish. As Orion sat down beside them, he was already plotting the rest of the day with Anosia.
This time, there would be no more old men to interrupt them.
Or so he hoped.
*
It had been an eventful morning.
Jareth was sitting in the solar with Aidric, both of them going over the ledgers that Desdra so carefully kept, analyzing the details of what, exactly, Jareth had inherited.
Aidric had a mind for sums, so Jareth wanted the man’s help in deciphering everything.
He would have asked for Desdra’s help, but she’d made her loyalties clear the night before when she spoke of her devotion to Chester, so the truth was that Jareth wanted someone with an unbiased point of view to help him review everything.
Not that Desdra wouldn’t tell him the truth about the empire he now found himself in command of, but he couldn’t be entirely sure she wouldn’t omit something out of loyalty to Chester.
Even though she had told Jareth she felt him a worthy heir, he wanted the opinion of someone who had no stake in this.