Chapter 9

In the north,spring slowly unfurls its buds, more wary of frost than floods.

~ “A River Melts in Time” by the bard Velvenor

Kaylina found a broom and some rags and spent the morning cleaning while Frayvar bought a newspaper and read up on current events in Port Jirador. He’d tried to go to the city library to get information on the castle, but it hadn’t been open yet. Kaylina didn’t know if she wanted more details on its past or not.

They’d survived the night huddled in a corner of the kitchen with the heavy frying pan and her sling and knife close at hand in case they were attacked. The enemies that had assailed them, however, hadn’t been tangible. Every time they’d dozed off, and sometimes even when they hadn’t, dreams—or maybe visions—had swept into their minds.

Kaylina had seen more deaths—more murders. Each time, they’d been committed by what should have been an inanimate object with no sign of a person controlling it in view. Twice more, she’d seen men die to the cobra-like vines. Once, a ceiling beam had fallen and crushed a woman. Another time, a branch had broken through a window and impaled someone in workman’s clothes carrying two tankards down a hall.

Though they’d all been disturbing, that one had troubled her the most, because the man hadn’t been a ranger, and there hadn’t been any rangers in the vision to suggest an association with them. He’d looked like a customer at the old inn. Since Kaylina wanted to open a business in the castle, a customer-killing curse didn’t bode well.

When dawn had come, its arrival announced violently by a chandelier crashing to the floor in the great hall, Frayvar’s eyes had been as hollowed and haunted as hers. She hadn’t needed to ask if he’d also experienced dreams—nightmares.

A yawn made Kaylina pause her cleaning, and she wiped her gritty eyes. A part of her wanted to curl up in a corner and do nothing—after all, they didn’t yet know if Vlerion would be able to talk the owner into leasing the castle to them—but she had a vague notion that if this place was intelligent, it might appreciate being tidied up.

While she worked, she glanced out the windows often, waiting for Vlerion’s return. Not because she missed him—hardly that—but because she wanted him to see that they’d stuck out the night. She might have bags under her eyes, dust in her hair, and cobwebs stuck to her clothes, but she hadn’t left the premises.

Crunches came from the kitchen, Frayvar eating one of several apples he’d found while out. This far north, pickings were slim this time of year, only fruits that could store over the winter, but his munching noises implied he found them satisfactory. He’d brought her pastries and dried jerky, but he was, as always, unwilling to eat food that anyone else prepared. Unpeeled fruits and vegetables were okay, since nobody dusted them with nutmeg or other toxic spices, as he called them. There was a reason he was always gaunt.

As midday approached, one of Kaylina’s glances out the window made her pause. Someone stood outside the wrought-iron gate, gazing at the front of the castle.

A woman? The person wore a fur-trimmed cloak with the hood up, so it was hard to be certain, but she was slender and not much taller than Kaylina. Snow wafted from the gray sky, so the outfit wasn’t unusual, but the steady way the person gazed at the castle—and through the window—made Kaylina think she wasn’t a casual passerby.

Kaylina put her back to the stone wall, wondering how long the woman had been peering in.

Frayvar walked out of the kitchen, waving the newspaper. “It’s a good thing we didn’t go with the people breaking out of jail, especially that one that was all beat up. It was Wedgewick, right?”

“The man who was being tortured? That’s my guess.”

“There’s a reward for him and three other ringleaders of the rebellion. The Virts. I guess the newspapers call them that because they run around referring to themselves as the righteous and virtuous.”

Kaylina nodded. She’d gotten the gist of the name.

“Those leaders are to be brought in dead or alive. If alive, they’ll be hanged in a place called Mason Square.” Frayvar skimmed the article as he spoke. “Anyone found associating with one of the ringleaders will either be jailed without chance of parole or, if they’re found guilty of treasonous actions themselves, strung up with the others.” Frayvar gave her a pointed look.

Since Kaylina had considered going with those people, she couldn’t wave away the threat and say that such a fate never would have befallen them.

She looked out the window. Their watcher was gone. Good.

“We won’t associate with anyone,” she said.

“If we were going to associate, it would be safer to be on the side of the rangers.”

“You just like Vlerion’s taybarri.”

“They’re beautiful animals. And the ranger is…”

“Also beautiful?” Kaylina smirked.

He wasn’t. Even handsome might be a stretch with that scar and severely short hair. Though he did have some kind of draw. Maybe it was his athleticism and fighting prowess. It was hard to put a finger on it, but she didn’t think her wandering thoughts about sex during the questioning could be dismissed as entirely drug-induced.

“Uh, you’d have to be the judge of that. I…” Frayvar’s gaze drifted toward the window.

Kaylina tensed. Had their watcher returned?

“Now, she’s beautiful,” he whispered, his jaw dropping as he gazed in appreciation.

A pale-skinned woman in a blue coat, matching dress, and fur-trimmed boots was stepping out of a carriage, her wavy blonde locks tumbling past her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled as she considered the castle with a bemused expression on her elegant face.

The driver asked something, probably if she was sure she wanted to get out here. She nodded, gave him a coin, and removed a leather satchel before heading into the courtyard, stepping carefully. An inch of fresh snow made Kaylina realize she would have to add shovel to the longlist of supplies and equipment they needed to open a restaurant. She didn’t know how much money Frayvar had brought, but expenses would add up quickly.

Maybe they should have started with a vendor’s cart and a tent instead of trying to lease a building. Especially a giant castle. But it was hard to cook out of a tent, and she needed space for the mead once she bottled it.

“She must be the Saybrook woman.” Frayvar continued to gaze at her.

“Pretty,” Kaylina guessed, remembering Targon’s descriptors.

“If there’s a sister who’s even prettier, I can’t imagine it.” Frayvar appeared ready to offer her his servitude, devotion, and complete control over his life.

“I don’t think nobles date beneath them.” Kaylina hoped her brother wouldn’t have his feelings hurt. Even if they’d been societal equals, he wouldn’t have had a chance with her.

“I’ll offer to cook for her.” Frayvar winked and ran to the doors, opening one wide with a smile. “My lady, come in to the Deep Sea Honeybee.”

“We haven’t decided on a name yet,” Kaylina whispered.

“I like that one. You’ll make mead, and I’ll specialize in seafood dishes. It might be different fish up in these cold oceans, but I can adapt my recipes.”

“Good morning. I’m Ghara Saybrook.” She had a melodious voice, and Frayvar”s eyes grew even more appreciative. “I brought a lease for you to look over and sign, if it’s agreeable to you.” She drew a few papers from her satchel. “You are the Korbians, correct?”

“Yes, I’m in charge.” Kaylina tapped her chest, grimacing at a cobweb that draped one of the buttons of her blouse. She turned the tap into a brushing motion and noticed she’d buttoned the blouse lopsidedly in the dark that morning, leaving a gap of skin visible. Wonderful. “I’m Kaylina. That’s my brother, Frayvar.”

“I’m so pleased to meet you, ma’am. Lady. Uhm.” Frayvar looked at Kaylina, as if she might be more versed in how to address the stuffy northern nobility, despite all the books he’d read.

Kaylina had a feeling most of Frayvar’s knowledge had dumped out of his brain when Ghara walked in.

“The divine beauty that enraptures your soul?” Kaylina suggested.

Frayvar”s cheeks flushed impressively red considering his dark skin.

Ghara blinked. “Lady Saybrook would be fine.”

She peered around the vestibule and into the great hall, her gaze lingering on the broken chandelier on the floor. It was heavy, so Kaylina hadn’t tried to move the frame yet. She had swept up the glass.

“Has the establishment given you any trouble? I understand from Vee that you spent the night here?” Her eyebrows climbed, as if she couldn’t imagine it. She even shuddered.

“Vee?” Kaylina mouthed, though she knew who Ghara meant. Kaylina struggled to imagine Vlerion with a nickname, unless it was something like Killer or The Beheader. Not that those rolled off the tongue.

Ghara smiled and touched her chest. “Lord Vlerion.”

“We spent the night here, yes. It was fine.” Belatedly, Kaylina realized she shouldn’t say that, lest Ghara think to increase the rent. “I mean, it wasn’t fine. There’s a creepy light in the tower, there were groans and other weird noises all night, we both had distressing nightmares, and someone was murdered out back yesterday.” She hadn’t checked to see if the body had been removed but assumed the rangers had handled it.

“That sounds about right. I’m impressed by your chutzpah.” Ghara nodded, appearing sincere, and looked again at the chandelier. “Nothing hurt you?”

“No. Does that happen?”

“There are a lot of stories from the past, and, in my lifetime, a body was found. The cause of death was unknown. The curse is real.”

“So we gathered.” Had Kaylina been less fatigued, she might have reacted more strongly to it all. Or, if she’d been less determined to see her dream become a reality.

“I’ve never been in here before. My grandfather forbade it.” Ghara handed the lease to Kaylina, eyebrows raised, as if asking if she truly wanted it.

Kaylina took the papers without hesitation.

A cloaked figure much larger than the one who’d gazed through the window came in, not via the front door but from the kitchen.

Kaylina jumped and reached for her sling before the person pushed back his hood. Vlerion.

The quickest hint of amusement entered his eyes when their gazes met. Because she’d drawn the sling on him again? Or because—

His gaze shifted upward toward the top of her head.

“You have cobwebs in your hair,” Frayvar whispered.

Scowling, Kaylina scraped them out.

“Vee,” Ghara exclaimed with delight. “There you are.”

She dropped her satchel, glided across the great hall while avoiding the chandelier, and approached him with the grace of a dancer. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him, rose on tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek, though something about the way she paused and checked his eyes said she wanted that kiss to go on his lips.

“Here I am,” he agreed.

Frayvar”s shoulders slumped.

“Maybe he is beautiful,” he muttered.

“Handsome.” Kaylina didn’t know if they were a couple, but Ghara clearly adored Vlerion, so she patted her brother’s shoulder.

“Really? Even with the—” Frayvar drew his fingers down the side of his face, mimicking Vlerion’s scars.

“Yeah. And he’s…” The memory of Vlerion’s powerful arms around her, holding her against his hard chest—his entire hard body—jumped to mind. “Fit,” she finished, though it was an understatement.

Ghara leaned into Vlerion and patted his chest without fear of rejection, then let her hand linger as she gazed at him. A twinge of envy plucked at Kaylina, but she scowled at herself and pushed it away. She didn’t like Vlerion or want to pat his chest.

“Oh, right. The muscles.” Frayvar gazed sadly at his own thin arm. “Women like those.”

“Yup.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have ridden together,” Ghara told Vlerion. “Your company is much more compelling than that of my driver.”

“I had Crenoch.”

“You could have traveled the road beside us. I know he likes to run fast and flash, but you have before.”

“Targon doesn’t want rangers seen around here while these two are establishing their business.” Vlerion waved to his cloak and hood, and Kaylina realized he wasn’t wearing his black leathers.

“Are you going to tell me what that’s all about? And why you wanted a special deal for…” Ghara didn’t curl her lip in dismissal when she looked over at Kaylina and Frayvar, but Kaylina had little doubt she considered them riffraff.

“No.”

“Mysterious as always.” Ghara smiled up at him with the same longing in her eyes that Frayvar had possessed looking at her.

Other than to nod at Ghara, Vlerion didn’t change his expression. His face remained as stoic and distant as when he looked at Kaylina. That surprised her. Since Ghara was a childhood friend—if not more—Kaylina would have expected her to warrant a warmer reaction.

His muted response didn’t surprise Ghara. She only smiled sadly before patting Vlerion again and stepping back. “I gave them the lease to look over.”

Vlerion looked toward the broken chandelier. “For five hundred a month?”

“Yes. I convinced Grandfather that it would be better to have someone using the place and looking after it than it standing vacant and attracting crime.”

Vlerion grimaced—thinking of the dead lord? “Yes.”

He moved away from Ghara and stood in front of Kaylina, glancing down at the lease, or maybe her crookedly buttoned blouse, for the hint of amusement returned to his eyes.

Scowling, she tucked the lease under her arm and unbuttoned the top of her blouse so she could fix it. If there were mirrors in the castle, they were upstairs in what she’d dubbed the haunted rooms.

His gaze caught on her fingers, or maybe the skin she briefly showed, before he looked into her eyes. “You spent the night here?”

Kaylina lifted her chin. “Yes, we did.”

He looked at the chandelier again. “Huh.”

The single syllable didn’t convey admiration and respect, but at least she’d exceeded his expectations of her.

“I’ll assume it wasn’t that peaceful,” he said.

“It was not. There are bones of dead people in some of the rooms.”

“I’m not surprised.”

She had been.

Vlerion smiled slightly at her. “Targon will be glad to know the newcomers he wants to use aren’t easily scared.”

“Yes, Targon is who I long to impress.”

His smile widened, his face less restrained, and she decided he was handsome. Despite the scars.

“Vee.” Ghara lifted a finger, beckoning. “A word?”

Vlerion nodded but bumped his knuckles against Kaylina’s arm before walking away.

She didn’t know how to interpret the gesture, but at least he’d acknowledged she wasn’t easily scared. That was almost the same as calling her brave, wasn’t it?

Ghara linked one of her arms with Vlerion’s and guided him through the great hall and toward the dining hall. “Will you return to the mountains after this?”

“After Lord Darringtar’s murderer is caught and the ringleaders of the rebellion are dealt with.”

Hanged, if the newspaper article was correct.

“So, you’ll be in the city for a while? I could move a few things into my apartment here and visit with you when you’re off duty. I miss having you close.”

Kaylina didn’t hear his response, but Ghara slipped her arm fully around him before they moved out of view.

Not my business, Kaylina told herself. Why her jaw clenched, she didn’t know.

Frayvar joined her, sighing wistfully. “Is five hundred a month written on the lease? What’s the length of our commitment? Will they do any repairs?”

Reminded of the paperwork, Kaylina held the lease out, but the rows and rows of tiny print blurred when she tried to read them. The night’s fatigue was catching up with her.

“Check, will you?” She handed the pages to him.

Most people would find such a task onerous, but Frayvar pounced on the contract, taking the pages to the light of a window.

There was more to clean—much more—but Kaylina couldn’t help but be curious what Ghara and Vlerion were talking about. If the topic was her apartment and how he was invited to visit any time… that wasn’t anything Kaylina needed to know about. But if they spoke about what Captain Targon had planned for Kaylina’s new meadery, wouldn’t it be smart to gather whatever intelligence she could?

Yes, but if she sneaked closer to listen in, would Vlerion catch her? Probably. He had when she’d eavesdropped back at the jail.

Kaylina grabbed her broom and rags and headed through the library toward the kitchen. She paused inside the little well room to wet the rags. The water that came up from below was pure and delicious—she’d tasted some the night before and had been delighted. It would be wonderful for the mead.

She’d already swept and wiped the counters in the kitchen, so she pushed open a pantry door that creaked on its hinges and stepped inside. Light came through a narrow horizontal window near the ceiling, illuminating shelves that had mostly rotted away. They’d been made from a less resilient wood than the oak of the stairs and bookcases elsewhere in the keep, but once she repaired them, there would be room for dozens, if not hundreds, of bottles and all the spices her brother could ever need.

A few large glass jugs hunkered on the floor in the back, and Kaylina stepped fully inside, crouching to wipe them off. The door creaked, and she whirled, afraid of it locking, the way the front door had. But it didn’t close fully, and she let out a relieved breath.

Wiping the jugs revealed that they could be used as carboys, and delight filled Kaylina for the first time since the rangers had shown up, interfering with her plans. She would need larger fermentation vessels eventually, but these would be perfect to get started. When she made specialty varieties of mead, she usually did small batches anyway.

She caressed the jugs with love. “Perfect.”

Voices sounded in the kitchen. Vlerion and Ghara.

Kaylina froze. She’d thought they’d stopped in the dining hall for their private conversation.

“I can’t believe you made those two sleep here,” Ghara said. “They could have been killed. People have been, you know.”

“Not for years,” Vlerion said.

Kaylina stood, intending to step out and make her presence known, but the desire to hear what they would say stilled her feet.

“Only because people stopped spending time here.”

Vlerion snorted. “Criminals spend time here regularly.”

“In the catacombs, right? They don’t enter the castle, do they?”

Vlerion hesitated. “I don’t know. I’d assumed those two would be scared away and leave before anything happened to them.”

Kaylina bit her lip, unable to make herself open the door wide and step out. Instead, she leaned closer to the crack, not wanting to miss anything.

“The girl has moxie.”

“Yes.” Vlerion sounded approving.

Because he liked that in a woman? Or because Targon would like it?

Kaylina bared her teeth at the thought.

“Why are you helping them if you want them to leave?” Ghara asked.

“It’s Targon’s plan. He’ll do anything for the good of the kingdom.”

“We want that in a ranger captain, don’t we?”

“Yes, but his plans aren’t always healthy for those who are swept into them.”

“Do you care what happens to those two? If they might be useful to the kingdom…”

“They’re just tourists.” Vlerion stepped into view, leaning against a counter with the cabinet doors long since torn—or rotted—off.

Kaylina”s heart pounded. Would he see her if he looked over? The pantry door wasn’t open wide, but the window light might make her outline noticeable.

“They’re barely even kingdom subjects,” Vlerion added. “They don’t have a clue what’s going on up here.”

“Is that why Targon thinks he can use them?”

“They have no affiliations, I gather.”

“Will the rangers enjoy the offerings of this—what is it going to be? A winery, you said?—once it’s open?”

“A meadery. The rangers won’t have anything to do with it except to keep an eye on the customers.”

“Ah, I thought you might want to keep an eye on her. She’s comely under the dust and cobwebs.”

“I’m not shopping for a lover,” Vlerion said.

“Good.” Ghara stepped into view, sashaying toward Vlerion. “I’ve missed you. You’ve been in the mountains so much these past years. You hardly come by anymore.”

“I know.” Vlerion didn’t reach for her or beckon her closer, but that didn’t mean he would stop Ghara if she pressed her body against his. She rested her hand against his chest and gazed up into his eyes. “I think often of the Solstice Moon Festival. For me, it was wonderful, but you… I always wished I could have made it better for you.”

“It was fine.” His words were clipped, like he didn’t want to talk, but his gaze did dip toward her chest.

“Yes, that’s the problem. You were so distant. I was thrashing like a maiden in an erotic poem, and you… I could only assume you weren’t… that I wasn’t…”

“Ghara,” Vlerion said softly and took her hands.

Kaylina swallowed and looked away. She should have stepped out of the pantry as soon as they’d entered. Now, she might get stuck watching who knew what. Relations.

Being caught observing that would be far worse than being caught eavesdropping on a conversation. She glanced toward the window. There wasn’t any glass in it, but with the shelves rotted or missing entirely, she doubted she could climb out without making noise. Was it even wide enough to crawl through?

“You were fine,” Vlerion said. “Good.”

“I’ve gained some more experience since then,” Ghara admitted. “If you’d like to try again.”

“You’ve been taking lovers to learn better bedroom play?” He sounded amused.

“One has to learn somehow. So one can make sure her man enjoys his time as much as she enjoys hers.”

“Your grandfather would be horrified to hear you speaking of pleasing a man.”

“It’s not proper to bring up elderly relatives during tender moments, Vee.”

Kaylina crept closer to the back wall to consider the window more closely.

“This can’t be a tender moment,” Vlerion said. “It’s safer if there’s nothing between us.”

“Safer?” Ghara laughed. “Are you afraid the curse of the castle will get worse if we’re intimate in the kitchen?”

“No.”

“From what I’ve heard, nights are worse, though I wouldn’t want to be here alone during the day. Your tourists are either foolish or brave.”

“Some of both, perhaps.”

“Vee,” Ghara groaned his name. As she slumped against him? “I’ve missed you. I want you.”

They fell silent. Kaylina didn’t return to the door to see if they were kissing. She didn’t want to know.

Instead, she reached for the sturdiest of the rotten shelves. It was time to get out of there.

Before she could climb, the door creaked open.

She barely kept from blurting, “Shit.” Instead of going up, she crouched, grabbing one of the carboys. With the heavy glass in her arms, she spun.

Vlerion stood in the open doorway, his face a mask. His cloak had been thrown back, and his shirt was untucked. Had Ghara been shoving her hands up there? Or going for his belt to show him what she’d learned from her other lovers?

Not Kaylina”s business.

“Are you done out there? I didn’t want to interrupt.” Kaylina”s words came out panicked, tripping over each other. She raised the carboy, half of it cleaned of dust. “Look what I found. I can use these for my first batch of mead. If you could refrain from having sex in the kitchen, that would be amazing. There’s so much to do, and I need to focus on getting this room up to sanitary standards. I assume they do have sanitary standards up here in the north, right? This is the capital, after all, the heart of the kingdom. The epitome of civilization, one would assume.”

Stop talking, the back of her brain ordered as Ghara peered around Vlerion to look into the pantry. Thankfully, nothing was untucked on her.

“I’ll get out of your way.” Giving up on the idea of the window—though it was tempting to flee that way and hide in the courtyard until they left—Kaylina stepped toward them.

If Vlerion didn’t budge, there was no way she would get by him, but she kept walking, as if she fully expected him to. Would he move? Or grab her?

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, and he stepped aside. Ghara did too, though she was frowning deeply at this intrusion.

Still clutching the carboy, Kaylina hurried past them and fled the kitchen. She found her brother in the great hall, the lease in his hand.

Frayvar held it up. “We would only be committing to a year.”

“That’s not much.”

“Not for a commercial endeavor, no.” He sounded surprised. “Maybe she owes Lord Vlerion a favor.”

Thinking of the conversation she’d overheard, Kaylina glanced back at the kitchen. “Yeah.”

Vlerion wanted Kaylina and Frayvar to leave, or at least thought they would be better off if they did, but he had also done exactly what his captain asked. She would be wise to remember his loyalty was to his boss and his class, not a couple of tourists.