She eyed Louvaen curiously. “You’re a right mess, and I keep the buttery tidy.” Her features stilled. “Where were you?” The question was rhetorical, the answer reflected in Magda’s eyes.
“Introducing myself to your master.” Louvaen marched to one of the sinks where Clarimond waited to pour a pitcher of icy water over her filthy hands. She gasped at the sensation of cold fire spilling between her fingers. “Gavin or Ambrose will likely call for your help soon. I think I broke his lordship’s nose.”
Clarimond’s grip slipped on the pitcher. Water splashed across Louvaen’s night rail, soaking her to the skin. Cinnia nearly dropped her cup in her lap. “Oh, Lou, how could you?”
Dripping wet and freezing, Louvaen scowled. Magda’s guffaw deepened the scowl, but she stayed quiet. As the woman in possession of soap and hot water, the housekeeper held all the power here, and Louvaen knew how to pick her battles.
The two servant girls set up the screens; Cinnia volunteered to bring a change of clothes from her room while Magda whisked away her ruined garb with a disapproving cluck. They left Louvaen to ladle warm water out of the large pot at her feet and wash off the grime from the cell. Her hair had taken the worst of it, and she scrubbed her scalp until it burned. She was in the midst of wringing the excess water out of the wet locks when she heard heavy footsteps and Magda’s warning command.
“Keep walking. I’ve a lady at bath and don’t need you hanging about getting in the way.”
Gavin’s voice drifted to her. “Father needs—”
“Aye, I know. I’ll check on Hisself in a moment. He best mind his ways or I’ll add a split lip to that busted nose of his.”
The booted feet tromped out, and Louvaen poked her head around the screen. “Just us?”
Magda tossed her a drying sheet. “For now, but don’t dawdle. They’ll be wanting their breakfast, and the threat of finding a naked lass standing in the kitchen isn’t likely to keep them away.” She gathered up the ladle and shoved the pot aside with her foot. “I’ll not say it isn’t my place because this is my home, and you’re a stranger, so I’m telling you as I see it. You had no business in the well room. His suffering isn’t your concern.”
Louvaen paused in drying her hair. A mixture of admonishment and pity painted the housekeeper’s words. The loyal servant protecting her master—she’d seen it with Ambrose. As much as she disliked and distrusted the wizard she admired his devotion. Chained, imprisoned and half out of his mind though he was, Lord de Sauveterre inspired an impressive degree of loyalty in those who served him. She wrapped the sheet around her for warmth and took the clothing Magda held out for her.
“As long as Cinnia resides here, Magda, everything in this castle is my business.”
“You love that girl very much.”
“Yes, though she can be a right pain in my arse at times.”
Both women grinned at each other in truce, and Louvaen finished dressing to the tune of a milking song Magda sang in the most excruciating off-key voice. By the time Cinnia returned from relighting the hearth in Louvaen’s chamber, platters of bread were laid out at the table along with cups of warmed ale for sopping. Louvaen occupied a spot on the bench next to Cinnia to enjoy her breakfast. The girl’s smile lit the room when Gavin walked in to take a seat opposite from her. They clasped hands and made cow eyes at each other. Louvaen caught the brief, wary glance Gavin sent her way. Ambrose took the remaining space across from Louvaen. He eyed her first and then his tankard of ale with a suspicious gaze.
Louvaen smirked. “I don’t brew potions, sorcerer. If anyone poisoned your drink, I’m not to blame.” She bared her teeth. “This time.”
A hard swat on her shoulder made her jerk away. Cinnia glared at her, a blush dusting her cheekbones. “Lou, stop being so rude!” She offered a conciliatory smile to Ambrose. “My apologies, Ambrose. She’s always been a scold in the morning.”
He huffed and raised his tankard in mock toast to Louvaen. “You must live a life of eternal morning.”
“Ambrose.” Gavin dipped his bread into his ale. “A truce for now.”
Cinnia flattened a piece of bread between her fingers. “Did you really break his lordship’s nose, Lou?” She asked the question with a cringing look at Gavin.
Louvaen sipped her ale before answering. “Lucky shot.” Ambrose wheezed a splatter of foam across his cheeks. “Magda can tell you more when she returns.” She tore her own bread into strips. “Cinnia, Lord de Sauveterre is very ill. I don’t know what you’ve been told.” She arched a challenging eyebrow at the two men across the table. “But he isn’t sick in the way a man might be with the gout or day fever. It’s much worse. Violent, painful symptoms.” She watched Cinnia pale. “He’s mostly incoherent, very aggressive. An animal in the throes of hound madness. Gavin is wise to chain him.”
She turned to Gavin. “Are you certain this isn’t something else? Symptoms of holy fire?” Her husband had buried a man who’d succumbed to the disease, and his behavior had resembled de Sauveterre’s. His death had been a mercy and too long in coming.
“We’re certain. He’s been struck by the flux many times. The behavior is the same, the sickness the same. Sometimes the madness lasts a day, sometimes a week. Rarely more. He’s his old self afterwards.” Gavin sighed. “As much as he can be. Holy fire doesn’t scar its victims. The flux does.”
She might have argued more for holy fire but recalled the inhuman strength of de Sauveterre’s grip on her leg and the glow of his eyes as the candlelight caught his gaze. Humans didn’t possess eye shine at night, but animals did. She’d seen the bright tapestry in cats, dogs and numerous other creatures. Holy fire also didn’t endow the sick with the physical power she’d felt in those clawed fingers.
Cinnia squeezed Gavin’s hand. “I’m sorry he must suffer like this. I know you love him.” She patted Louvaen’s arm. “He’s been locked up for days before you arrived. I won’t lie. I had quite a fright the first time I heard the screams. Ambrose and Gavin told me of the flux and that his father remains safely locked away until the tide ebbs. I feel safe here, Lou.”
“And she doesn’t insist on visiting him inside his cell or disregards our warnings,” Ambrose cut in.
Louvaen shot him a black look before returning her attention to Cinnia. “Safe from the father maybe, but what about Gavin?” The young lord stiffed but remained silent.
Cinnia started. “What about him?”
“He’s affected by the flux as well. You said so yourself. Maybe not as bad as his father, but that’s just a matter of time. Did you not notice his eyes, Cinnia?”
“They’re green. So?”
