By Vengeance Guided (The Lost Shrines Book 1) (5 page)

The footsteps coming quickly from behind did nothing to ease nerves that had been drawn tight since he'd first seen the little girl running directly into the path of danger.

With preternatural grace and speed, Caerwyn rose to his feet, twisting to face whatever threat approached and shifting the little girl so his sword arm was free.

Of course, he wasn't wearing his sword. And the pale, trembling woman reaching for the girl did not seem to be a threat of any kind.

Pudgy little arms reached back and the sobs that had been slowing crashed into full-throated wails and she practically leapt from his hands into the warm embrace of the woman.

"She's fine," he assured the woman, who frantically tried to look at and touch every inch of the child at once. "A few bumps and scrapes, but nothing permanent. The scare will probably stay with her long after she heals."

Assured, both through her own investigation and his words, the woman settled somewhat when the child tucked her head and let the wailing trail off into whimpers and sniffles. The lady finally looked up at him, a tremulous smile flitted around her lips and wide, blue eyes filled with relief.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. How… It… I only took my eyes off her… Thank you." The woman stopped, swallowed and collected herself, reining in the stuttering until calm slid over her. Voice no longer shaking, she smiled but relief and fear still battled at the edges of her attempt of serenity.

"They're sneaky and fast at that age. I'm just glad I got to your daughter in time. We managed to roll out of the way before anything permanent happened."

"Niece. Tanis is my niece. I'm her guardian. I don't know what I'd have done if I'd lost her too."

A single brown curl of hair escaped her simple braid and gleamed copper in the sun. Caer actually found his hand half raised to tuck it behind her ear before he realized he had even moved.

Turning the motion into a perfunctory brushing of the dust off his shirt, he dipped his head and looked at the gathering crowd, still standing silent and awestruck at the near tragedy. A titter of gossip began in the back and rippled out like a wave. The woman realized it too. Drawing herself up regally, her smile stretched into a serene mask and the warmth in her gaze cooled and grew faintly distant.

"How can I repay you, Mister…?"

For a heartbeat, his true name hovered on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it back before he ruined his cover. Why he felt resistance at the idea of lying to this woman, he did not know. It was an anomaly he'd have to explore later. He had a job to do here. He didn't have time to be distracted by pretty eyes or soft curves.

Maybe once he completed his vengeance, however…

Tugging at his wayward attention, Caer smiled his best, “trust me, I'm charming” smile.

"Wyn, ma'am. The name's just Wyn. I didn't do it to be repaid. Children are precious. Didn't even think about it, just reacted. No need to worry about payment, Miss…?"

He lobbed the sideways request for an introduction back at her and she smiled.

"Lia," she answered softly. Another ripple rolled through the crowd and her shoulders tensed. "Lady Liadan, I mean. Hospitality in our little valley insists such an act of heroics be repaid."

Caer's stomach dropped out, and the world shifted underneath him with the revelation of her name. Only one woman claimed the title of Lady in this valley. His quarry. Schooling his features and attempting to hold onto his charm, he sized her up once again.

"Well, Milady, if you insist. I was hoping to find some work, but it seems there's not much to be had around here. If you know someone who's looking for a sort of jack-of-all-trades, I have a strong back and clever hands."

"I'm sure we can find something. If nothing else, there's always things needing to be fixed at the manor house."

The sound of a throat clearing beyond the little circle of solitude they'd created within the crowd made them both jump and shift to put a few more inches of space between.

"If you'll pardon, Milady, may I speak with you for a moment?"

A squat, solid-looking man with steel gray hair and a face lined with years of experience was gently drawing her away before either of them could even answer his request. From a few yards away, Caerwyn heard snippets of the whispered conversation. The highlights involved words like, “outsider” and “suspicious” and “current problems” which piqued Caer's attention. Then the older man glanced up, meeting his eyes with a cold doubt. When he whispered again to the Lady, Caer was sure he used the word “spy.”

Using every technique he could muster, Caerwyn managed to keep his shoulders loose, his muscles relaxed, showing no outward signs of how interested he was in what was going on around him.

When the older man finished, Liadan took her turn to whisper. Her tone and posture exuded firm command. This time, the snippets were words like “hospitality” and “proper.”
When she glanced back, over the blond curls of the now sleeping child, it seemed as if some of her man's suspicion had been contagious. Her eyes narrowed and when she looked him over, her face pinched. He missed the warmth and relief that filled it before.

"…supervision…alert…keep hidden…"

The words that floated in the still air, this time, irritated him and aroused his own suspicions. Yes, this tiny little valley definitely had secrets. Lady Liadan appeared to be the one in charge of them all.

When the whispered conversation wound down, both figures turned to stare at him. Feeling cocky and uncharacteristically reckless, he stretched out his best smile and waved.

Liadan nodded once in acknowledgment. "Thank you, again, Mr. Wyn. Keneally will make arrangements for you."

Then she turned away, disappearing into the dispersing crowd.

"Mr. Wyn—"

"It's just Wyn," he interrupted, not sure what demon of mischief caused him to try to get the upper hand by needling the sour little man.

"Wyn, then. You're staying at the tavern, correct?"

Caer blinked in surprise, his eyebrows pulling in.

The smug smile did nothing to make Keneally's face look any sweeter. "We're a small village. Everyone notices what a stranger is up to. There's not much privacy for outsiders here. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Wyn silently hoped not, but allowed the smaller man to lead the way back to the tavern while he continued talking.

"I'll arrange with the keeper to pay your room and board as part of your earnings. Get a good night's sleep. We'll expect you at the manor house about an hour after dawn."

So he wasn't going to get invited to stay anywhere near Liadan. A minor setback, maybe, but he hadn't been expecting anything else.

"Of course, Mr. Keneally. Uh, where exactly is the manor house?"

With a sly narrowing of his eyes, the older man said. "It's just Keneally. Like you, Wyn, I prefer not to acknowledge my surname. Follow the road north out of the village and up a ways into the hills. You can't miss it."

With that, Keneally walked into the tavern and Caerwyn trailed behind. While the old man negotiated with the keeper, both men resolutely ignored Caer's presence. Irrationally annoyed, he stomped his way up to his closet-sized room and flung himself down on the thin pallet.

Once the burst of temper bled out of him, though, he had to admit it was a decent day's effort. He'd not only found an excuse to hang around the valley, but he'd also found work to get him close to his quarry on a daily basis. He might not be allowed unsupervised access to the manor house while he labored there during the day but, once Caer got a feel for the layout, snooping at night would be an easy task.

He just needed to bide his time and be patient. Let opportunity come to him.

-3-

Twenty minutes of trudging up and down those hills on the north road had given him plenty of time to build a picture of the manor house in his mind. Something like the traditional farmhouses of the generational farms in Tresk's territory. Or maybe even the rude cabins of the border dwellers in Daen's kingdom. Caerwyn was on a downhill slope when he came around the curve and first caught sight of Liadan's manor.

The gently rolling hills flattened out into a patchwork of green below him. Fields and pastures and sweeping lawns all ringed with the same thick, ancient looking forest.

The house itself was like nothing he'd ever seen. Most definitely not what he'd expected. The central structure was old. Its square, two-story design reminded him of the oldest buildings in the Milesan Isles. The ones said to date from long before even the Milesans had traveled across the sea to settle there. A hodge-podge of wings and additions had been added in various styles and materials until the manor house looked like some kind of architectural labyrinth.

Several outbuildings dotted the land but only one building showed the same design and heavy stone of the main house. Small, square and single story, it huddled close to the tree line, far from the hustle and activity around the manor. Behind it, a riot of greens and colors spilled out in a garden that almost overflowed the high picket fence trying to contain it. The fence struck Caer as odd since none of the other fields or gardens he saw were fenced with more than low stones to keep them separate from pasture lands.

When Caer moved closer, aloof nods and reserved smiles greeted him. In a community like this, word traveled quickly. He had no doubt every single person he passed knew what he'd done the day before and why he was at the manor today.

Lady Liadan stood on the wide stone steps of the manor’s main entrance talking to the older woman who'd accompanied her in the village and the familiar figure of Keneally. Dressed in sunshine yellow, her chestnut hair shimmered in the sunlight and Caer wished he could see it freed of the matronly bun she'd twisted it up into.

He stopped politely several yards away, out of apparent earshot of the quiet conversation. However, he impolitely, and unashamedly, listened in anyway.

"I think we should rotate the herd to the south pasture, Keneally. The land needs rest."

"Are you sure? They haven't been there all that long."

"I'm sure."

"All right. I'll have Mal move them this afternoon."

"Lia," the older woman spoke up when Keneally turned to call over a passing farmhand. "Delvin and Ula have started disputing about water access. I think mediation might help head them off before they come to blows again."

Lia rolled her eyes and sighed. "I think they only argue to have an excuse to get drunk together. Ending the feud means their wives won't nag so much about the hangover. I have some time this afternoon. I'll ride over and talk to them."

The woman crossed her arms and remained silent.

Lia sighed again. "I mean, I'll have Keneally arrange a carriage for me."

Caerwyn struggled to keep his face neutral though his eyebrows threatened to rise up into his hairline. Her tone was not haughty but the two experienced, older servants gave her a respect and authority that surprised him.

In the Isles, power and authority depended on lineage and Attribute. In the human world, though, he had observed that it was contingent much more on gender, age, and rank. She may have had the rank but, in his experience, the gender and age usually negated the title.

Lia looked up and smiled, derailing Caer's musing. "Mr. Wyn. Good to see you again. You remember Keneally, of course. I don't think I introduced Nel yesterday. She's the manor's chatelaine and my oldest friend."

Caer nodded to Keneally and then the older woman. "Sir. Ma'am. Just Wyn, please."

Flashing a smile, he bowed with all the poise and grace his tutor had drilled into him as a child. Liadan descended a couple of steps, and Caer swept her hand up in his, brushing a chaste kiss across the back of it.

He'd intended it to be a quick, charming move. Instead, he lingered over the soft skin and gentle warmth. He heard her breath catch and his own faltered.

The deep sound of a throat clearing brought Caer back to himself and he eased backward when her two advisors closed rank, moving to stand at her shoulders.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, milady."

"Wyn, you must call me Lia."

Keneally rumbled a warning and the Lady rolled her eyes. "Lady Lia, I suppose. I still sometimes forget all the formalities."

He pursed his lips and widened his eye in question. "Still?" he inquired as if he did not already know she was new and unexpected in her position.

When her smile faltered, Caerwyn realized he'd pushed too far, too fast. His decision to back off was to keep his cover. Not because he wanted to keep the bright, open expression shining at him. Instead, he smoothly changed the conversation before she had to decide how to answer.

"How is little Tanis this morning?" he asked when he saw the blond curls peeking out of the doorway above them, trying to lure the cat prowling the stairs with a piece of honey bread.