WINDKEEPER (9 page)

His feet skipped lightly down the first decade of steps and then he stopped, his hand going to the balustrade to keep himself from pitching down the remaining steps.

"Good eve, Sweet Prince," the man at the foot of the stairs greeted him. "I trust you had a pleasant journey."

Conar stared at the man. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest and he swallowed hard, forcing down the bile that leapt to his throat. He couldn’t seem to find his voice.

A tight smile stretched the older man’s thin, pale lips. One thin white-blond brow cocked. He folded his arms inside the billowing sleeves of his red robe and stared intently at the young man. "Have a good night’s sleep, my Prince," the man suggested. "I shall pray for you, my dear child." The thin lips pursed together as though the man was trying not to laugh. He turned his back and disappeared beyond the turn of the stairs.

Sweat ran down Conar’s sides, across his forehead and upper lip. His breathing was erratic, his hands trembling. He slumped against the stone wall beside him and closed his eyes. There was only one thing in this life he feared, and he had just encountered it.

* * *

"His Grace prefers cinnamon oil, Mistress, but if you would prefer something else, I will have it brought to you." The servant girl smiled. "There is some jasmine from Chrystallus."

"The oil you have will be fine." Liza ran her hand across the steaming water in the huge copper tub. She was aching to immerse herself in the cinnamon-scented water.

A roaring fire chased away the chill from the tapestry-covered stone walls and the air inside the guestroom was heavy with steam and a sweet, musky smell. Plush white towels lay warming on a brass stand before the crackling fire.

"I will lay out your clothes as soon as someone brings them from your horse."

Liza blushed. "I’m afraid what I have on is all that I brought. I was not expecting to be a guest in such a fine keep."

The servant glanced at Liza and wondered what kind of keeps she was used to if Norus was considered to be fine.

"It is rather bad, isn’t it?" Liza grinned, referring to Norus.

The girl put up a hasty hand to stifle the giggle. "It is awful, Milady!"

"Well, it will do until we leave, won’t it?" Liza winked and relaxed.

Under the soft gaze of this lovely woman, the girl nodded. "Aye, Milady. Until we leave."

"Well, maybe my clothes will dry if I put them before the fire." She started to take off her tunic, but the girl rushed to her, easing Liza’s hands away from the sodden fabric. The servant helped Liza remove her clothing and then handed her a thick robe. The bath water was a little too warm to utilize as yet.

"If I have your permission, I can obtain a gown for you from the storage room. Prince Galen had several dozen gowns commissioned for his lady-wife before she died. Some, she never even wore. Would it offend you if I were to fetch such a gown for you to wear?"

"Not at all." Liza smiled, relieved that she wouldn’t have to put on her still-damp clothing again.

Although the servant was several inches shorter and darker in complexion, the two women might have passed for sisters. They both had gleaming, long black hair and oval faces, deep green eyes and coral lips. The servant’s face was as delicate as a cameo portrait and her cupid-bow lips seemed hard-pressed not to smile often. When the girl did smile, she revealed even, pearly-white teeth.

"What do I call you?" Liza asked her.

"Gezelle, Milady."

"What a lovely name! It suits you, too."

"My granny named me after the pretty animals that grazed near her hut. On the day I was born, one leapt past the window. Granny said it was like an omen."

"So, you were not born here at Norus?"

"No, Milady. My mother had me there in Granny’s hut." A sad and wistful look came over the girl’s pretty face. "My mama died giving birth to me."

Liza’s heart lurched. She stood and touched the servant’s thin shoulder. "I am sorry, Gezelle."

Gezelle smiled. When she had lived in that hut near the game preserve of King Gerren, her old grandmother had thrilled her with tales of the keep at Boreas where she had been a maid for many years. She spun tales of the handsome knights and their ladies; of the daring escapades of the Serenian Guards; of the pranks for which the royal sons were forever being punished. She told her mesmerized grandchild tales of courage and valor, of loyalty and honor, of romance and great, undying loves; of the kindness of the lady-wives of the knights; and of the gentle and sweet Queen whose life had ended so tragically. The child had grown up thinking Boreas Keep had to be the closest thing to heaven found on earth.

But when her granny had taken ill one winter and died, leaving Gezelle without kin to care for her, the child had been sent to the closest keep: Norus. Indentured to the royal family since the old woman had been a faithful retainer to the them for many years, Gezelle was sure she would know the same joy her granny had known at Boreas. What she had found upon arriving at Norus was nothing at all like those wonderful tales.

Norus was filthy and it smelled. Diseases of every kind ran rampant behind the crumbling walls. Its inhabitants were not loyal to their King, let alone to the Prince who lived within the stinking walls. What Gezelle found at Norus was abuse and neglect.

It was in her lowest moment at the keep, a day or two just short of her seventeenth birthday, only a few months past, that her old granny had come to Gezelle in a dream, speaking to her of the grand things that would come to pass. Gazing up at the smiling lady before her, the girl couldn’t help but speculate on the things said to her in that dream.

Sensing a question, Liza cocked her head to one side. "Did you want to ask me something?"

Gezelle chewed her lower lip. Did she dare ask this lady? What would this lovely woman think of such an outlandish question? But never one to leave anything to chance, feeling at ease in this lady’s presence, taking courage from the gentle and warm smile on the lady’s mouth, Gezelle ventured a rushed inquiry.

"Are you a Princess, Milady?"

Liza blinked. "Why would you ask that?"

"I didn’t m…mean any harm."

"Don’t be a ninny!" Liza laughed, recovering her composure. "Your question startled me, that’s all."

"I should not pry."

"You must have had a reason for asking."

"You will think me addled," the girl mumbled, looking away.

"I will not!" Liza crossed her legs beneath her. "Tell me!"

Gezelle fussed with the wet clothing spread out on the towel stand.

"Gezelle!" Liza laughed. "You have my curiosity up now!"

Finally making her decision, Gezelle looked at Liza. "She had the sight, my granny did. She was the granddaughter of a gypsy woman and she told me things that always came true. People came to her for herbs and potions. She delivered babes all over the Southern Zone until she got too old to make the trips and wait out the labor. Townsfolk from Iomal would come to her with sick animals or to get a rune to chase away insects harming their gardens. People with troubles came to her for help, too.

"She never turned away a single soul and she never took even one copper coin from any of them, although she would take meat and vegetables for the two of us. She was a gentlewoman, was my granny. She sang to the animals and talked to them and they would come right up to the door and eat out of her hand. Nothing ever harmed my granny; not animal nor man. She was protected, I think."

"Protected by the village folk?"

"No, Milady. She was protected by the things in the fire." Gezelle ducked her head.

Liza’s eyes darkened. "She spoke to the fire-spirits?"

Gezelle’s head snapped up. "You know of them, Milady?"

"I’ve heard tales of the creatures. Do you speak their language, too?"

"No, Milady."

"She would not teach you?"

The servant smiled. "She said I was too young to learn the art of magic-spelling." Her smile faded slowly. "She would have taught me when I was older. I was eleven when she died. I’ve been here six years."

Liza nodded. "So, you never learned anything from her?"

"Only a few spells to ward off danger and the like." Gezelle pulled at the waist of her gown. "I wanted to learn the future."

"Sometimes that is something none of us should know, Gezelle." Her face gleamed with a strange light. "What we do not know, will never harm us."

"I know what will happen to me."

"How so?"

"About three months ago, I had this dream. It wasn’t truly like a dream because I was awake. My granny came to me in the night and she sat on the pallet next to me and smiled. She took my hand and I could feel her cool skin. She patted my fingers and said that soon I would be leaving Norus Keep, never to return. She said a Princess would come to take me far away and that I wasn’t to be sad anymore. She told me the lady’s life and mine would be forever entwined. We would love the same and hate the same and there would never be a better friend for either of us."

There was such hope and expectation in the sad eyes regarding her, Liza did not want to disillusion the girl. "You hope I might be this person?"

"I do," she said, her voice lost and sad.

"You are leaving the keep, aren’t you?" When the girl nodded miserably, Liza laid a hand on her thin arm. "So at least that part of your dream will come true. I may not be a princess, Gezelle, but I believe you and I will become the best of friends."

A storm of emotions crossed Gezelle’s face. "Truly, Milady?"

"Aye, but we will have our secrets, you and I. What I say to you will be for your ears only. Do you understand?"

Gezelle went to her knees in front of the lady and took the slender hands into her own, bringing warm fingers to her lips. "I will never tell another living soul!"

"Good. Now that that’s settled, I have a question for you."

"I will tell you everything I know!"

"Then tell me everything you know or have ever heard about this Princess Anya from Oceania. The one Prince Conar intends to marry."

A little more than an hour later, Conar met a glowing Gezelle as the servant girl came up the stairs from the storage rooms near the kitchen.

Her attention was intent on the gown draped over her arms, and in her haste to get the laced and ruffled treasure to her new mistress, she didn’t see Conar walking toward her from the opposite end of the long balcony. Her mind was working furiously on how she would arrange the Mistress Liza’s hair, so she walked right into the young Prince’s outstretched arms as he stood smiling at her headlong rush. She bounced off his hard chest.

"Have a care, Mam’selle," he teased. "You could have crippled me!" He beamed at the girl. Such banter was second nature to the man and he fully expected to be rewarded with a dazzling smile: his usual due.

But that didn’t happen.

"Your pardon, Your Grace!" she stammered and would have dropped to her knees before him if he hadn’t gripped her elbows to prevent her.

"Oh, no, you don’t!" He laughed, the sun crinkles deepening around his blue eyes. "If you persist in flopping on the floor every time you come into contact with me, I shall be obliged to fasten a thick board to your spine to keep you upright!" His smile broadened as he watched a heavy crimson blush spread over her cheeks.

"I didn’t see you, Your Grace," she said, her ready smile returning as she watched him grin. "Did I hurt you?"

Conar frowned, looking down at his person. "I’m not sure. You’re so fat and massive, you might well have dented me." He craned his neck to look at both sides of his legs. "No, I think I’m in one piece still." He swept her a mischievous glance. "No thanks to you, Mam’selle."

She giggled. "Are you sure, Your Grace? There might be internal damage."

He liked this girl. She wasn’t flirting with him; he knew those looks all too well. She was teasing him, giving as good as she got. Her smile was genuine and she looked at him without a duplicative bone in her slim body. She wasn’t inviting, or wanting, or asking, or desiring anything from him but his smile, unlike the oily women at court who constantly hounded him. Could two such women actually exist: Liza and this girl-child? Neither one seemed to fit the known patterns he had encountered over the years.

"Are you from Mistress Liza’s homeland, Mam’selle?" he asked.

A puzzled frown came over the lovely face. "I am Serenian, Your Grace."

Conar’s brows went up. "And she’s not?"

"Well, of course not, Your Grace!" Gezelle smiled. "Anyone can see that!"

"Ah," he said, damned if he could. "And where is her home, then?"

"She’s not from here, Your Grace."

Now he knew the two women were exactly alike! He wanted to throttle this one, too. He shook his head. If the chit knew from where Liza came, she wasn’t going to tell him. He reached out to finger the rich silk of the gown. "This is lovely. Is it for Liza?" At the servant’s nod, he smiled. "It will do the lady justice." He started to turn away when Gezelle spoke.

"The Princess Cyle would have liked your lady, Your Grace." She met his startled look.

"You think so?"

"Aye. She was a lovely lady, very open and warm. She never raised her voice to us or struck us. She tried to keep His Grace from doing so." She bit her tongue. Everyone in the keep knew how the two brothers felt toward one another, but one did not criticize the royal sons.

"She sounds like the kind of lady I would have liked to have known. I’ve heard nothing but good things about her from everyone who knew her." His wicked thoughts prodded him with intense jealousy. Indeed, the lady would have made him a far better wife than The Toad.

"You would have loved her, Your Grace," Gezelle told him. "We all did. Even those who were dead set against the Prince marrying her."

"And how did my brother feel toward her, Mam’selle?"

There was hesitancy in the girl’s answer. "I am sure His Grace cared for her. He wept at her funeral."

He searched her face. "I am sure he did." The Princess Cyle’s dowry had been returned to her kinsmen upon her untimely death; Galen wouldn’t have liked that.