“How is this good news? We thought Cinnia’s love for Gavin would break it. Now we need both sisters loving both beasts to accomplish the same thing?” His gaze flitted to Louvaen, elegant in her crimson gown.
“You’re swiving her, Ballard, and she’s enjoying it, “ Ambrose countered. “Surely, she has some affection for you.”
She did: of that he had no doubt. She respected him as well, and admired him. But love him? That was altogether different, something deeper which went beyond mere desire and affection. He knew that when spring came, she’d return home to her father. Nothing she’d said or done since then indicated she’d change her mind. If she loved him, wouldn’t she ask to stay?
He shook his head. “You hold false hope, my friend.”
Ambrose’s eyes flashed annoyance. “It’s still hope,dominus. You owe it to yourself to hold onto hope. You owe it to your son.” He gave Ballard an abrupt, annoyed bow before making his way to Magda for a bandage.
Louvaen and Ballard waited their turns for bandages. When Magda finished and left them alone, Ballard turned to Louvaen and examined her bandaged hand. “Thanks to you, I’ve won a bet with Ambrose.”
“Oh?”
“Aye. He was certain that if cut, you’d bleed green. I disagreed.”
She tried, and failed, to stifle a laugh. “Mouthy, bastard wizard. I don’t know how Magda tolerates him.” Her eyes searched his face, and her levity disappeared. “What troubles you?”
Either he was losing the talent for hiding his emotions or she had grown more skilled at reading them in his expressions. He bowed over her hand. “Nothing that can’t be soothed by a night in your arms,” he said. “Your bed or mine?” He thought he’d offer her the choice after her strident complaints about his cold bed.
“Mine’s too narrow for the both of us. Promise me a nice hot brick or a warming pan, and you’ll get no more complaints from me.” She paused. “About that at least.”
Ballard smiled, the melancholy of Ambrose’s interpretation of how to break the curse lessening before Louvaen’s teasing. “Done.” Were they alone in the hall, he’d kiss her to seal their bargain. Instead, he raised her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Until tonight, mistress.”
They rejoined the others at the table, where Cinnia practically danced out of her shoes from the excitement of giving Modrnicht gifts. Ballard resumed his seat in the dantesca and drank his sixth—maybe seventh—goblet of wine. Louvaen and Cinnia gave Magda and the girls each a pair of fur lined gloves made of supple leather.
Magda ran a thumb over the fur cuff. “These are too fine to wear every day.”
Cinnia protested. “No! You should wear them any time you want. They’ll keep your hands warm on days like these.”
Clarimond presented the gifts she, Joan and Magda made for them. “To keep you busy at the wheel,” she said and handed Louvaen a basket full of Joan’s finest combed flax. “And you with your books.” She passed a small packet to Cinnia who opened it to display a pair of bone needles, whittled, smoothed and sharpened to punch through signature pages for her book binding. The women exchanged hugs, and Ballard wondered if he’d be treated to watching Louvaen’s nimble fingers transform the strick into golden thread.
Ambrose lifted one cloth wrapped package and passed it to Louvaen. “For a woman with the wild magic in her and no use for it,” he said, light winking off his spectacles and hiding the expression in his eyes. Louvaen held the gift gingerly, her eyes wide with surprise and no small amount of suspicion.
“Don’t trifle with her, Ambrose.” Ballard gestured to Louvaen and Cinnia. “A gift to be shared between you. My idea but impossible without Ambrose’s magic, so it’s from both of us.”
Louvaen slowly untied the twine holding the cloth closed while Cinnia watched. Both women gasped at the exquisitely carved hand mirror revealed. Ballard caught the spark of confusion in Louvaen’s gaze. The mirror was far more costly and finer than the ones they currently possessed, and how would they share?
“You’ve been apart from your father,” he said. “That mirror will reveal him to you. Just give the command ‘Show me,’ and say the name of the person you want to see. The glass will cast back to you a reflection of that person in that moment. When you’re done, just tell it to sleep.”
Louvaen caressed him with her gaze. “This is a thoughtful gift. Thank you both.”
In her more exuberant fashion, Cinnia raced to his chair, knelt before it and clasped his hand. “Thank you, Lord de Sauveterre,” she cried. “Thank you so much!” Before Ballard could tell her to get up, she raced back to her sister who handed her the mirror.
“Go ahead, my love. You do the summoning.”
Cinnia gripped the mirror by its ornate handle and stared into its reflective surface. “Show me Mercer Hallis,” she commanded.
For a moment, the mirror shimmered with an azure radiance in her hands before fading. Cinnia’s excited smile transformed to a shocked “O”, and her eyes grew round as dinner plates. “Papa? Dame Niamh?”
Ballard leaned forward in his chair as Louvaen’s eyebrows shot high, and her face flamed. She snatched the mirror out of Cinnia’s hand. “Sleep,” she snapped, and the mirror glowed blue a second time.
Ballard had a good idea what the mirror had revealed to the two women. He braced an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “How’s your father?”
Louvaen handed Cinnia a goblet of wine which the girl took and drained in two gulps. “Doing quite well obviously.” Louvaen downed a glass of her own before answering. “I’ll never be able to scrub that from my mind.” She patted Cinnia on the shoulder. “I think it best if I keep the mirror for now and summon the next time. What do you think?” Cinnia nodded so hard, one of the braids in her intricate hairstyle came loose.
Despite the mirror’s unexpected surprise, they all declared the evening a success. Ballard held Louvaen back when Magda drafted the others to help clear the table. He retrieved the dagger from a small chest near the hearth and handed it to her.
“You already gave us the mirror.”
