The Lady's Choice (7 page)

Benae did not know what she could say to this so she remained silent. The meal was excellent, though. She finished in unseemly haste and stood up, placing her plate beside the fire. ‘Thank you Seve, Merel. Squire, I bid you goodnight.' With that, she walked to the carriage, kissed Flaire on the muzzle and climbed into the conveyance.

The next morning, Benae woke at dawn, refreshed despite sharing her bed with Merel. The two women drew the blinds on the carriage, removed their nightgowns and sponged away the dust of the road. They donned their travel dresses, which Merel had aired the night before, and breakfasted with the soldiers around the fire. Ramón was quiet, dark smudges beneath his eyes. He would have taken his turn on watch. That was the kind of man Ramón was: one who took his responsibilities seriously, not leaving matters to chance.

Benae sighed, her gaze on the squire, even though she had not caught his eye yet this morning. Ramón was such a rock. He would make a wonderful husband. The image of a little blond-haired son and a pretty dark-haired daughter popped into her mind and she pushed the picture aside. That life was not for her. She was given to another and the princess had ensnared Ramón's heart. They were two people on different paths. She could not afford to indulge in foolish fancies. Life was about duty; love had to come second to that. She would have a good life with Jiseve.

Breakfast over, they broke camp and were soon on the road. Benae's gaze found Ramón whenever he was near but it appeared he had put her out of his head. He was all business, trotting up and down the line, his horse on the move continuously, his eye scanning the countryside. Benae longed for a smile from him but remonstrated with herself for the thought. She would not have admired him so if he did not take his task seriously, if he did not value her safety and that of all in the convoy.

But she watched him, noticed the small details such as how he placed a reassuring hand on his horse's shoulder; the fact that he didn't wear spurs; his gentle words for Alec, the youngest soldier who accompanied them, hardly a man at all. Ramón had a respect for people that one did not often find in the nobility. Ramón truly cared for all under his protection. Benae found herself wanting to find Princess Alecia and give her a piece of her mind. This Vard Anton must have been some man for the princess to spurn Ramón's attentions in favour of the disgraced army captain.

Ramón trotted past again and a bolt of pure desire stabbed through her. His hips rose and fell in time with his horse's movements and she imagined herself beneath him, the sweat on his skin glistening in the flickering light of candles, her body meeting his—. She snapped her eyes shut to block Ramón's form from her thoughts but it was no good. He was in her mind, in her heart; it felt as if he had wormed his way into her very soul. And Ramón? His heart was constrained by duty and loyalty, and what he felt for her could not compete with that. That thought blew away her desire as a gust of chill wind hurls autumn leaves across flagstones. She picked up her quill and turned her attention to the wedding plans.

Nearing midday, the convoy spied a farmstead and pulled in at the gate. The horses needed a drink and it was still some miles to the next stream. Benae watched as Ramón spoke to the farmer and then approached the carriage.

He poked his head through the door. ‘We have been invited in for luncheon, lady,' he said. ‘The men will eat in the yard. I will escort you and Merel to the homestead.' His voice was brisk and business-like but his hand lingered on hers as he helped her down. Benae stomped on her fluttering heart savagely. Honestly! She really must get her feelings in hand.

‘I will welcome a meal indoors, squire, and the company of others,' she said, as Ramón guided her through the gate and towards the homestead. Merel followed at a discreet distance behind.

Ramón frowned. ‘We have been on the road but a day and a half, lady, and what is amiss with your current companions?'

‘What companions?
You
, squire, have been avoiding me. I had not thought you a sulky child but I find I have to revise my opinions.'

‘There is much to do.' His voice dropped so that only she could hear. ‘I am too busy to sit with you and pander to your every need. That is why Merel is here.'

Benae gasped and stepped closer to Ramón. ‘I cannot put what happened out of my mind and I do not think you can either,' she whispered. ‘You are so distant. It breaks my heart.'

‘Can you not see this is wrong, Benae?' The torment in Ramón's eyes ensnared her, as did his use of her name. ‘You want it all but you made a choice when you became betrothed to the prince. You are his. No matter how I feel, nothing can change that.'

Ramón's words startled her. His admission that he harboured feelings for her lit a glow within her heart, made hope blossom. The world slipped away as they stared at each other, wrapped in a realm that Benae had never thought existed.

Ramón was first to shake off the spell. ‘This is neither the time nor the place. We will talk later.' He took Benae's hand and placed it on his arm, continuing towards the homestead.

Benae doubted they would truly discuss the matter that lay between them; this dangerous attraction they shared. She tried to focus on the farmer who stood before the door of a humble cottage.

‘May I present Lady Benae Branasar, the prince's betrothed, Master Orard?' Ramón said, his gentle hand on Benae's back.

Master Orard bowed low then rose slowly, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘It is an honour to have you share our table, lady.' He stood to the side so that they could pass across the threshold. Benae introduced Merel and then stepped inside. It was cosy indoors, out of the strengthening wind. The farmer's wife was setting the table and paused as introductions were made.

‘It is an honour, lady, squire,' Mistress Orard said. ‘We live so far out, I had not heard your joyous news. Perhaps the prince will produce an heir yet?'

‘Cana! It is not for us to suggest what might come to pass.' He turned back to Benae. ‘I hope she did not offend, lady.'

‘Nonsense, Master Orard,' Benae said, placing her hand on the farmer's arm, ‘I hope we shall be blessed with more than one child. Children are such a joy, do you not agree?'

The faces of the Orards clouded over, striking a pang of fear into Benae's heart. ‘What is the matter?'

‘Our daughter,' Mistress Orard said, ‘she is abed with the fever. I have tried every remedy I know but nothing helps.'

Benae froze at her words, remembering two other souls who had died of the fever. It must have shown on her face, for Master Orard stepped forward. ‘We will understand if you do not wish to share a meal with us. You cannot risk an illness with your important event so close.'

Benae stared at him, wondering if she could take the next step that would expose her to more of the pain she lived with daily: failure and loss.

‘Master Orard, my heart breaks for your daughter. I would like to help.' There, she had done it, and the hope in their eyes sharpened her fear. What if she let these good people down? What if she could not save their precious child?

Ramón drew her aside. ‘Proceed with caution, lady,' he murmured. ‘If you use your arts before these folk, the word will spread throughout the kingdom of the witch betrothed to the prince. Your life might be in danger.'

‘I will not stand by if I can help.' She turned to Merel. ‘Fetch my tonics from the carriage, if you please, Merel. Mistress Orard, show me your daughter.'

Mistress Orard scurried to obey, leading Benae into a small adjoining room. At first, darkness prevented Benae from seeing the girl on the bed but soon her eyes adjusted to the dimness.

‘Is there no window in this room?' Benae asked.

‘There is, lady, but Elin can't bear the light.'

‘She needs to have fresh air if she is to recover. Open the shutters.'

Benae expected the woman to object but she did not. Instead she hustled across to the window and pulled on a lever that opened the shutters. A cool breeze swirled in from the east to ruffle the girl's long brown hair. Benae crossed to the bed and sat on its edge.

‘Elin?' she said gently. ‘Can you hear me?'

The girl did not stir and so pale was her face that for a moment Benae thought she had passed. The child gave a whimper and her chest rose in a shallow breath.

‘She has barely been awake these past two days, lady.'

‘How old is she?'

‘She has seen ten summers—' Mistress Orard's voice broke in a sob. ‘I cannot lose her, lady; she is all I have left, with her brother having entered the army.'

Benae knew how that felt: to lose a brother to the army and then to death. She hoped that would not be the case for the Orards' son. Merel entered the room and deposited a wooden box on the bed. The maid had assisted Benae before and knew her methods, never suspecting the deeper skill beneath her mistress's care. At least, Benae did not think Merel knew of her gift. The maid circled around to the other side of the bed and together they pulled the covers to the foot of the bed. They lifted the child to a sitting position and removed her nightdress so she wore only her small clothes. Her mother hovered.

Benae looked up. ‘I will need hot water and a spoon, mistress.' As the woman left, Benae placed her palm on the girl's fevered brow and closed her eyes. She sent a tendril of spirit into the child, first to the bones of the skull and then into the mind. Yes, the illness had upset the balance of the elements in the girl's body. Fire dominated water, but there was something else amiss. Benae moved her palm to the part of the chest exposed by the vest and concentrated again, her spirit entering the mouth and coursing down the windpipe to the fine tubes that moved air through the chest. No matter where her spirit ventured, it was halted by glistening plaques of bodily humour. Benae grimaced, forcing a wave of nausea away. She withdrew her delving and knelt by the bed, a crushing agony in her own chest. This was just like her parents, and she hadn't been able to help them.

‘Lady, are you well?' Merel asked, her voice sharp in the quiet room.

‘There is barely any air flowing into her,' Benae whispered. ‘I do not know if I can help.'

Mistress Orard stepped back into the room and Benae pushed herself to her feet. She took the spoon, poured some tonic into it, and then placed it at the girl's lips. ‘Please drink a little, Elin.' A trickle of the medicine slipped past Elin's lips and the girl swallowed. ‘That's right, dear, a little more.'

Benae continued until the spoon was empty and then she poured two spoonfuls into the bowl of water the mother had brought. She swirled the tonic through the water with her hand, battling despair. She must control this raging doubt or else she would fail again. Healing could not be wrought amidst uncertainty, but how could she not be unsure when her last three attempts had resulted in death? She would not count Lord Finus. The Goddess had been calling to him long before she laid her hands upon him.

Benae continued to swirl her hand through the water, watching the liquid eddy around her fingers, mesmerising herself. When her fears had subsided and her heart had halved its pace, she dropped herself into the small, tranquil place in her mind, closed her eyes and began bathing the child with her tonic-drenched hand. As Benae moved her hand first to Elin's forehead and then her shoulders, chest and arms, she trickled the tiny weave of spirit into the child, soothing, coaxing and stripping the foul humours away. She did not know if her labours had any effect on the chest, so clogged were the tiny tubes. Finally, she could do nothing more but send a final larger blast of spirit into the child and hope it would fortify her strength. How she was not dead already, Benae could not begin to guess.

‘She is strong,' she said to the mother. Let her have hope at the last. Perhaps it would see her through the difficult days ahead. ‘I will leave the herbal tonic. You are to dribble a spoonful into her twice a day. Rub her throat so that she swallows. I want her to sleep on her side.' Benae and Merel rolled Elin onto her side and pulled up the covers. ‘You must roll her onto her other side every two hours, even throughout the night. This will help the foul humours drain from her chest. Do not be surprised if she coughs. If she is awake, encourage her to cough the matter up as it will make her stomach sick if she swallows it.'

‘Thank you, lady. I will do all you say,' the mistress said. ‘Now you must wash and join us for the midday meal.' The woman stood back to allow them to exit first. Benae's heart ached for her. She knew her instructions would only deepen the shadows beneath the woman's eyes and almost certainly for little gain. She smiled the brightest smile she could summon and left the room.

Benae met Ramón's anxious gaze as she re-entered the living area. His concern was a balm for her raw nerves. It felt so good to have such a solid friend, if she could call him that. He clutched her hand and a bolt of heat speared her core and rose to her cheeks. How could he do that with just one touch?

‘How is the child?' he asked.

‘She is gravely ill, squire,' Benae said, shame sending prickles over her scalp. How could she take his innocent touch and allow it to inflame her desires? Really! She had to take hold of herself. ‘I have done what I can.'

‘Then it is time to eat,' he said. ‘We must be on our way.'

The five of them sat at the table, the fare simple but nutritious. While they ate Benae told of her estate far to the north and west. The seasons had been kind to the Orards. They had been able to pay their tithe to the prince and then some. But they missed their son's help on the farm. If he did not return from the army, next harvest would be a different story.

‘And the dark elves, lady,' Master Orard said. ‘They be troubling folk to the north. If we don't stop them there, sooner or later they'll be on our doorstep.'

‘My betrothed will see they penetrate no further, Master Orard. He has plans to travel north to secure my estate and seek help from neighbouring kingdoms.'

‘I'm sure you're right, lady. May the Goddess protect the prince on his travels.'

The meal was soon over. Benae returned to Elin's bedroom for one last look at the child. Was her breathing easier? Her fever had certainly broken.