Summers at Castle Auburn (2 page)

“She's a bastard,” my grandmother had said flatly. “And the child
of a bastard at that. I don't see her taking her place in some lord's fancy household.”

“I promised my brother,” Jaxon had replied calmly. “She is his blood, after all. She deserves to be treated as such.”

My grandmother watched him with her narrowed witch eyes, familiar with all evil, all strong desires. “My daughter came upon him in the village tavern, fed him a potion, and seduced him against his will,” she said. “He was not the first man she tricked this way. She cared nothing for him, nothing for her daughter. I have not seen her myself for five years. I do not think your brother deserves the scorn he will get for siring such a child.”

“My brother is dead,” Jaxon said lightly enough, but he had loved his brother; that I learned later. “No scorn can be felt by him.”

“But to his legitimate daughter? Born to his lady wife?” my grandmother shot back at him. “What of their mortification and pain?”

“His lady wife would improve upon the application of a little mortification,” Jaxon said imperturbably. “And Elisandra—” He paused, and seemed to think it over. “I think she would like to have a sister.”

Even I had not believed that, credulous six-year-old that I was. But he had been right about that; Jaxon was right about many things. Following that first visit to the castle, where the royal family and their retainers lived, I had returned every summer. I could not exactly say I had been welcomed into this most sophisticated of societies, but everyone except Greta was at least civil to me. I looked forward to the visits, for I was infatuated with Bryan and I worshipped my sister and my days there were filled with pageantry and color. But I never forgot where I belonged. I never forgot that I was a bastard's bastard, a wise woman's apprentice, nobody special. Exciting though my days at the castle were, I knew that my own story would be a placid one.

 

W
E RODE FOR
three hours through the gentle green countryside that was so lush and so fertile that it made Auburn the richest of the
eight provinces. Close to the castle were a number of small towns designed to cater to the gentry traveling toward the court, but farther out most of the land was privately owned. Acres and acres of abundant farmland would surround some majestic stone mansion, barely visible from the road. Such sights always amazed me. Cotteswold, where I lived most of the year, had few such noble estates. It was a poor country of hardworking farmers who would stare, as I did, at such wealth belonging to a few men.

Eventually we left the main road that would have taken us to Faelyn Market if we followed it the next hundred miles straight north. Instead, we turned in a northwesterly direction along a badly kept track, and headed toward the forested lands on the borders of Auburn, Faelyn, and Tregonia.

Bryan was the one who demanded a halt, which I knew Damien and I both appreciated. I was determined not to be the one to slow the party down, so I had not volunteered the information that I was thirsty and in need of some private moments behind a bush. But I was not in as sad a case as Damien, who was unused to traveling. Bryan himself rarely ventured beyond the castle for an overnight expedition; when he did, he traveled in luxury, and Damien rode along in the coach. The rest of us were more used to the saddle.

“We'll have a few bites to eat, then, while we're stopped,” Jaxon said, and passed around hard rolls fresh from the kitchens. Damien took a small bite from Bryan's bread at least ten minutes before Bryan would touch it; since he did not clutch his belly and fall to the ground, Bryan ate the rest of it.

Jaxon watched this with interest. “At the formal meals—yes, I understand that any number of people could pour poison into your food,” he said to the prince. “But here? We're in the middle of the wilderness! No one around for miles!”

“Cooks in the kitchen have been traitors before this,” Bryan said darkly. “And everyone in the castle knew we planned to set out today. Anyone could have snuck into the bakery to fold poison into my bread.”

Kent had flung his long thin body to the ground, and now he lounged on the fading summer grasses. “And you yourself have
carried the food around in your saddlebag all day,” he observed to Jaxon. “Plenty of opportunity there to do away with your future king.”

Bryan scowled at his cousin. “I didn't mean to say
Jaxon
—”

“Oh, why not? I'm as likely as the next man to murder you,” Jaxon said cheerfully. “I just didn't realize you suspected.”

Bryan's frown grew blacker. “It's not
funny
,” he insisted. “Do you know how many kings and princes have been done away with by treachery? My own father had a taster every day of his life—”

“And died when an edgy stallion threw him, so where's the moral there?” Jaxon asked. “He'd have done better to worry less about spies in the kitchen and more about how to hold on to his horse.”

Bryan was furious now. “He—My father was a
wonderful
rider!” he exclaimed. “My father could outrace you any day of the week! He could ride any horse in the stable! Yes, and the wild stallions they brought in from Tregonia, my father could tame those in a day—”

Kent came to his feet, giving my uncle a level look. “Jaxon was only teasing you,” Kent said, putting an arm briefly around his cousin's shoulders. Bryan shook him off. “Everyone knows what a gifted rider your father was. Also a great hunter. And a swordsman. The horse was lunatic. Everyone said so.”

“Yes, and the head groom shot it that very afternoon,” Bryan said. “It deserved to die.”

I hadn't known this story. I felt sorry for the horse, but sorrier for Bryan, who still looked both angry and forlorn. I stepped closer to him, trying to think of some way to soothe him. “Are you much like your father, Bryan?” I asked. “You ride and hunt so well yourself. Do you resemble him? What was he like?”

He turned to me eagerly, pushing back that deep red hair. “Yes, everyone says so, I look exactly as he did when he was my age. My fencing instructor also taught my father, and he says I hold my sword just the way my father did. He says I make the same mistakes, too—but they are not many!”

Again, I caught that exchange of glances between Kent and my uncle, which annoyed me to no end. Did they have no conception
of how hard it must be to be the young prince, trying to live up to the shadow of a dashing king, and watched on all sides for any sign of weakness or inability? I thought he should be encouraged, not baited. So as we mounted our horses again, I rode alongside Bryan for the next few hours, asking him questions and listening with unfeigned pleasure to his answers. I told myself that Elisandra would not mind; she had heard all his stories before, and she would want him to be happy on this ride. I knew that I had achieved the pinnacle of happiness myself.

We took a longer break at noontime, though this rest passed without incident. By this time, we were within sight of the forest, the great dark cluster of woods that spread from the river in every direction.

“Slower going once we're in the forest,” Jaxon observed, bringing us all to a halt. “We'll ride as far as we can, though we might get knocked about by a few low branches. Eventually we'll have to walk.”

“How far in the forest before we reach the river?” Kent wanted to know.

“The rest of the day, I imagine, and we might not reach it by nightfall,” Jaxon said. “Best not to, in any case. You don't want to be camping by the Faelyn River more than one night. Not in these woods.”

“Why not?” Bryan demanded.

Jaxon gave him a sidelong look. “Aliora,” he said. “They'd steal you as soon as we would steal them.”

Bryan sat up straighter on his horse, laying his hand upon his sword hilt. “I'm not afraid of a few scrawny aliora,” he said. “If one came to me in the middle of the night—”

“She wouldn't try to win you away with brute force,” Jaxon said mildly. “She'd whisper in your ear—crazy things, lovely things—she'd paint you a picture of Alora so beautiful you would weep to be taken there. How many times have I woken in the middle of the night to see my hunting companions leaping to their feet, their faces covered with tears, and watched them go running across the Faelyn River no matter how I called to stop them? Charm and seduction
are the weapons the aliora use on men. Your sword doesn't stand a chance against them.”

We were all mesmerized by now. “Have you ever had an aliora whisper in your ear, Uncle Jaxon?” I asked.

He laughed. “Often and often. But I know how to protect myself. And as for letting one of them touch me—ah, that's the fatal mistake to avoid, boys!—it's never happened. None of them has ever laid a hand upon my head.”

Bryan's eyes were huge. “What happens if they touch you?”

Jaxon turned slowly to look at him. “You don't know? You came hunting aliora, and you don't know the dangers? If an aliora touches you with the least little tip of her finger, you will be enchanted. You will rise to her call, you will answer to the sound of her voice, you will follow her across the river though you drown, though you never return to your family and your loved ones. If she lays her hand across your cheek . . .” He put his palm upon my face and, against my will, I leaned toward him, hypnotized. “If she feels the bone of your face with the flat of her hand, you will be dazzled—you will think of nothing else but her. She will put a fever in your blood that nothing can cure. You will splash across the river to Alora and never be heard from again.”

There was a profound silence when he finished speaking. I felt half-bewitched myself, and it was only Jaxon who had touched me. Kent was the first one to shake off the mood.

“But we have aliora all over the castle, and we touch them all the time,” he said practically. “There's no magic in their hands.”

Jaxon pulled away from me and turned to look at Kent. “Their magic is inhibited once the golden cuffs are placed around their wrists,” he said. “They can't abide the touch of any metal, but gold most especially. That is why I warned all of you to wear gold talismans—to protect yourself against the touch of the aliora. Did you do as I told you? Will you be safe?”

Damien and I instantly felt around our necks to pull out necklets and medallions of the finest gold. Kent extended his right hand, where he wore a fat signet ring bearing the Ouvrelet family's crest. Bryan wore a haughty look and displayed no such amulet.

“I'm not afraid of the aliora,” he said proudly. “I wore nothing.”

Jaxon quickly smothered an expression of irritation. “I brought a couple of extra wristbands, you can wear one of them.”

“No,” Bryan said, shaking his head, “I need no protection against the lures of the aliora. I am the prince. I am not afraid.”

“Well, and you'll have very little to be afraid of, out here on the edge of the forest,” Jaxon agreed. “Though at times the aliora do venture out this far, but rarely at this time of year—”

Bryan's face darkened. “What do you mean? If you think—”

“I think I'm head of this expedition, and responsible to your uncle for your well-being, and that if you don't wear a gold talisman into the forest, and keep it on, you're not riding in any party of mine.”

Bryan balled a hand into a fist. “And I say we ride on! You cannot tell me what to do! I am the prince, and I—”

Jaxon turned his back on him to address Kent. “Your cousin is very wearying,” he said. “Everybody mount up! We're heading back to the castle.”

Dead silence greeted this pronouncement, broken only by the jingle of Jaxon swinging back into his saddle. On horseback, he looked down at us. “Well? Mount up. Time to head home.”

I found my voice first. “Uncle
Jaxon
!” I cried. “No! You promised. You said you would take me to the river to see the aliora—”

He kept one hand on his reins and spread the other in a gesture of futility. “And I'd like to, but not unless the prince is safeguarded. You and I will return some day, Corie. Just the two of us. Things will go more smoothly then.”

I turned to Bryan beseechingly, but Kent had moved faster. “Put on the damn bracelet and try not to ruin everything,” he said in a rough voice, punching Bryan on the shoulder. “Jaxon's right, and you know it. My father would hang all five of us if something happened to you in the forest. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for Corie. There's some honor in being gracious for a lady.”

Bryan turned a smoldering look on his cousin, but Kent ignored him. “Give me the wristband,” Kent demanded of Jaxon, and Jaxon handed it over. It was a thick cuff, hinged at the middle and closed
with a key, looking like nothing so much as a shackle. This was not an ornamental piece of jewelry; this was a fetter that would be clamped to the wrist of any aliora we happened to catch in the wild. “Hold out your hand,” Kent said.

“I'm not wearing that,” Bryan said through clenched teeth.

“Then we go home,” Jaxon said.

“Put it on,” Kent said, grabbing for Bryan's arm.

Bryan slapped him away and danced backward. “I'm not wearing that—that slave's chain,” he said more loudly. “I will wear gold, since Jaxon insists, but I will not dress like a prisoner.”