Chapter Twenty
The
Leaving
Talon
Wolf between them and the line of dead
soldiers’ horses behind them, they crossed the river Talon had
chased Lara through a little over four months ago under the light
of the waxing half-moon. The freezing water plastered against
Talon’s leggings, and Lara’s gown was soaked up to her knees. Talon
let out three short, sharp whistles as they approached the back
gate, and was quickly answered by the same. The gate opened as they
dismounted, and Phillipe and Oswald stepped through.
“It’s good to see you,”
Phillipe said, clasping Talon’s arm. He grinned at Lara. “And right
on time.”
Phillipe gave Lara a long, too long,
hug, as Talon clasped Oswald’s hand in greeting, and only let go
when Talon rapped him on his shoulder. Talon held his arm out and
Lara hunkered into his side.
“Ha,” Phillipe crowed.
“You two have won me eighteen pieces of silver.”
Talon rubbed up and down Lara’s arm.
“What was the wager?”
“Day of return and
together.” Phillipe rubbed his palms together. “Which is why your
second is standing out here freezing his beallucas off.”
Lara looked up at Talon, who
explained. “To collect your winnings, you must not only pick the
correct date and time, but also stand guard the time you pick for
someone’s return.”
Her eyes widened, and she fixed a
baleful glare on Phillipe. “You bet on us?”
“We did,” he said, not at
all chastened. “And I won.”
“Then I hope you have to
stand guard the entire night through, at the very
least.”
“Oho, Talon,” Phillipe
chortled. “The wildcat still has her sharp points. You’ve not tamed
her yet.”
“I gave up trying.” Talon
grinned. “I find I prefer her sharp points to the dulled edges of
others.” A violent shiver racked Lara’s body, and Talon hugged her
closer to his side and motioned to Phillipe and Oswald. “We’ll talk
as we walk. My lady needs dry clothes, a warm meal, and a hot
bath.”
They handed the horses over to the
hands who came out of the stables rubbing their sleep-filled
eyes.
“It was Lothair, two other
of Ranulf’s men, and Fulrad,” Talon told the men as they headed for
the hall. “They chased Lara halfway up the mountain before we all
caught up with her.” He rubbed his side, where his newly formed
scar still pulled tight. “I took two of them before that bastard
Lothair shot me through the side and leg. Wolf chased him off into
the woods. He finished off Fulrad too, didn’t you, old man?” he
said to the hound, whose tail was wagging as they neared the
kitchens.
“Lothair showed up three
days after you two disappeared,” Phillipe said. “Half-starved and a
leg and arm torn up pretty bad.”
“He healed up yet?” Not
that it mattered to Talon. Healed or not, he intended to kill the
brute.
“He didn’t stick around
long enough to tell,” Phillipe answered.
“What do you
mean?”
“Lothair, Ranulf, Nithard,
Ravenna, they’ve all left Oloron. Packed up their wagons and took
off the day after Wolf showed up. We told no one of the messages he
carried. I guess the sight of Wolf here was enough to send them
scurrying.”
Talon growled low. “Damned cowardly
curs. Still, can’t say I’m surprised. Any idea where they went or
for how long?”
“No. If any of their
people know, they’re not talking.”
Talon unclamped his jaw. “Any other
news of note?”
Phillipe glanced uneasily at Lara.
“Our orders came two days ago. We’re to join Charles in Worms by
the end of the month.”
***
Lara
Lara woke alone and late by the
daylight filtering in through the shuttered window. She yawned and
stretched, then burrowed her nose into Talon’s pillow, breathing in
the scent of him, her body warming at the memory of Talon rousing
her when he’d come to bed late last night, at how they’d finally
made the bed theirs. With a languid sigh, she sat up and gazed over
at her cot, still in its corner, then she was off the bed and
grabbing for the chamber pot, losing what little she had left of
her supper into it. She was still hunched over it when a quick
knock at the door announced Berta’s bustling entry.
“Good morning, dearie,”
her cheery voice rang out and around Lara’s swimming head. “I’ve
brought you bread and sweet butter, pork sausage and boiled eggs,
and a pot of— Oh, oh my.” She laid a motherly hand on Lara’s back
as the thought of sausage and eggs had her dry-heaving over the
chamber pot. “Oh dear.”
“It’s nothing.” Lara wiped
her mouth with the washrag Berta handed her.
“Nothing?” Berta tsked,
staring hard at Lara’s naked breasts, which had grown heavy and
tender over the past few days.
“I’m fine.” Lara grabbed
her nightshift from the foot of the bed where Talon had tossed it
last night and pulled it on. She stood and the room swayed, so she
sat back down. “It was a long ride yesterday,” she said, swiping
beads of sweat from her cheeks. “I’m just overtired, is
all.”
“I’m sure you are.” Berta
tore off a piece of bread and held it out to Lara. “Eat this. It’ll
settle your belly.”
The thought of food still made Lara
queasy, but she took a bite to appease Berta, and then another, and
another, her belly growling for more. Berta handed her a cup of
warm, mulled cider and removed the trencher of sausage and eggs
from Lara’s sight.
“Thank you,” Lara said
after she’d finished off the thick slice of bread and a pear. “I
feel much better now.”
“Good.” Berta continued to
watch as Lara splashed water on her face from the washbasin and
doffed her nightshift.
“Do you know where
Talon…where the captain is?” Lara asked as she donned one of her
old under tunics and gowns from the chest beside her
cot.
“Aye, dearie. He and
Phillipe and a few of the other men rode over to Oloron Manor with
a missive meant to reach the count and his son, wherever they are.
What it says, I’m sure you have as good an idea as I.”
Lara didn’t know the exact words of
the missive, but she knew the general gist of it would be to leave
her in peace and good health or suffer the consequences at the end
of Talon’s sword.
“I don’t know where you
two were all this time.” Berta set the trencher of sausage and eggs
down for Wolf, who gobbled it up. “Wherever it was, I swear the
captain’s gained a stone or two around his middle.”
“I discovered he likes
berry cobbler,” Lara said with a grin that had Berta muttering as
she fussed around the chamber, though she was head cook and there
were chambermaids to do the tidying.
“Gone the better half of a
month, don’t let anybody know if they’re dead or alive, and he’s
got holes in his side and leg, and she’s talking berry cobbler.
She’s yours all right, Sophie the Sixth. And just as mysterious as
you ever were about taking off for a time and showing back up all
fat and fine.”
Lara heard every word, as she was
meant to. Berta had always taken it as a personal insult that
Sophie’d never told her best friend about the Hollow, even though
Sophie had explained many times that it was for Berta’s safety as
much as theirs. A plan Lara meant to stick to.
“I’m off to my place, to
check on Denys and the house,” she told Berta. “I’ll stop at
Patience’s too. I’ll be back in time to help with
supper.”
“There’s no need for you
to help in the kitchens,” Berta said. “You’re not the
captain’s lidi anymore, you’re…”
Lara waited as Berta searched for the
words to describe Lara’s presence in the keep now. In the captain’s
bed.
“The captain’s
lady.”
Lara gave Berta a kiss on her cheek,
thankful for her kindness. Not everyone in the valley would be so
kind. She told herself it didn’t matter what others called her.
She’d been called names her whole life by those people. Bastard.
Witch. Whore. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as she
entered the stables. Let them. She knew who and what she was, and
so did those who truly cared about her. Those names had never
stopped the people of the valley from seeking her out as a healer,
and she didn’t think they would now. Of course, she could mitigate
any consequences by refusing to stay at the keep and returning to
live in her own house, but her time with Talon was limited, and she
didn’t want to miss any of it. Especially not to mean-spirited
gossip. If her reputation was tarnished by her living openly as
Talon’s mistress, well, it’d never been shiny in the first
place.
She’d rather have Talon while she
could.
Shadow put up such a fuss when she
started to ride Gaea out of the stables, she let him out of his
stall to follow her home, where Denys had taken such good care of
the property and the livestock, all she had to do was walk around
outside and admire the shape of things.
Lara pushed open the door to the house
and walked in. Denys had stayed in the antechamber built in the
barn for him and had only gone into the house when necessary. As
she stood in the middle of the common room, she understood why. A
strange, uneasy quiet thickened the air. A quiet that no longer
held Sophie’s presence.
She turned to walk right back out of
the house when Patience burst in, Wilric squirming in her
arms.
“The captain said you’d be
here.” Patience hugged Lara until Wilric let out a howl at being
squashed between them.
“I see his lungs have
grown apace with his cheeks.” Lara admired Wilric’s round
face.
“The captain said almost
the same thing this morning when he stopped by on his way to Oloron
Manor.” Patience tucked Wilric into his sling and searched Lara’s
face. “We were all so worried about you. Phillipe said the captain
had gone after you, that as long as you two were together you’d be
fine. But you were gone for so long, and now you’re back, alive and
well and in one piece.”
“It wasn’t for lack of
them trying to kill us.” Unsteady on her feet, Lara plopped down on
one of the chairs at the table. The table where Sophie had lain in
state. She took a shaky breath and promptly burst into tears. “I’m
sorry. I, I don’t know what’s happening with me.” Her breakfast
threatened to come up, and she swallowed hard and managed to keep
it down, barely. “I threw up this morning in front of your mother,
and I’ve been so tired the past few days. I must be coming down
with something.”
“Aye,” Patience said.