Ambrose helped him stand, fully in Magda’s camp as he nudged Ballard toward the steps leading down to the buttery. “I’ll see to the welcome. Magda will thaw her out. I’ll send Joan with your cloak.” He gleefully rubbed his hands together. “This may be our redemption,dominus.”
Perched on the top step, clutching his clothing, Ballard wondered when he’d lost control of his castle. He scowled at his friend. “Don’t raise your hopes too high. The air is sparking with wild magic. If your idea is right, it should have subsided with her arrival.”
The other man shrugged. “A rescue then. Lost traveler. But a girl alone?” His eyes were bright with a hope Ballard hadn’t witnessed in any of his retainers in centuries. “I’ll see you in a moment.”
The door shut behind him, leaving Ballard in the gloom. His toes curled against the cold stairs as he followed the flicker of rush lights bound in nippers lining the walls. At least they’d exiled him with the ale and wine. He descended into the vaulted chamber and quickly dressed before an audience of stacked barrels, some filled with vintages Gavin had carted home, others with the brew Magda and her girls concocted in the kitchen. His leg and hand ached, and his cheek still sported the deep scratch left by the rose’s curved thorns. Were it any wandering traveler who’d somehow managed to break through Ambrose’s wards and find Ketach Tor, he’d march out to the great hall, uncloaked, bare-shinned and brandishing a sword or crossbow just in case said visitor didn’t understand the words “Get out.” This, however, was different. His son had brought a woman to Ketach Tor—something he’d never done before—and caught Ballard’s household by surprise. For Gavin, he’d endeavor not to be the savage Isabeau once accused him of. He would hide the marks of the curse and not scare their guest into leaping onto the closest horse and bolting for the drawbridge, screaming her head off as she galloped away.
Joan met him at the top of the stairs with his cloak. She bowed. “They’ve returned to the hall,dominus. Waiting for you.”
She followed him out as he tossed the cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood deep to cast his face in shadow. Magda and Clarimond were nowhere to be seen, and he eyed a kettle hanging over the hearth’s flames. It whistled angrily as water bubbled and spilled onto embers that spat and hissed in steamy protest. The sound of footsteps running toward the kitchen made him tense. He rested his hand on the dagger at his belt and lowered it just as quickly when Ambrose entered, this time as breathless and giddy as any maiden at her first court presentation.
Ballard scowled at him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“My gods, Ballard.” His hands fluttered, sketching tracers of blue luminescence. “This girl—there are no words.”
Ballard’s lips twitched. “That bad, eh? I always wondered what might catch his eye. With his handsome face, he could choose any wench. Should I be disappointed?”
Ambrose grinned. “Come look.”
He followed Ambrose into the great hall where a small crowd made up of Gavin, his mysterious guest, a wide-eyed Magda and equally stunned Clarimond and Joan gathered by the now lit hearth. Gavin and the woman had their backs to them but turned at their approach. Ballard halted in his tracks.
Bundled in an evergreen cloak with her hands gloved in rabbit fur mittens, the girl who faced him might well have inspired not only songs and works of art, but battles between empires for her hand in marriage. Even his long-dead wife, renowned for her beauty in her time, couldn’t touch this fair creature. Her hair, bound up in a simple ribbon, reflected summer light and hearth fire.
Every person, even the loveliest, sported some feature flaw—a chin a little too weak, eyes too wide-spaced, a nose slightly crooked. Not this one. Skin as fine and delicate as porcelain, a straight nose and large brown eyes shadowed by eyelashes thick and dark, graced a face that must have left Gavin staggering the first time he’d seen her. Ballard couldn’t make out her form in the concealing cloak but suspected her body matched her face in its perfection. It was as if the gods had decided to bless one human with all their physical glory, and this was the result of their endeavor. It had taken him centuries to do it, but his son had brought home the most beautiful woman in the world.
Gavin led her forward. “Father, I wish to introduce Cinnia Hallis of Monteblanco, Fairhaven Province.”
She offered him a pensive smile before dropping into a deep curtsy. When she rose, she stretched out a hand to him. “I’m honored to meet you, Lord de Sauveterre,” she said, voice lyrical and sweet. “Your son has told me much about you and your home.”
“Has he?” A bubble of bitter laughter swelled in his throat. Beauty at its most sublime resided at Ketach Tor now, alongside hideousness at its most wretched. The irony nearly choked him. He didn’t take her hand but let his cloak fall back to reveal his hands. She inhaled sharply and shrank back. Gavin captured her fingers in his grasp and scowled at his father.
Ballard shrugged. Beautiful Cinnia Hallis might be, but if Gavin had any mind to keep her here for more than an hour or two, she’d have to grow a spine and deal with his appearance. He’d wear the cloak but had no intention of hiding in the buttery the length of her stay so he didn’t offend her delicate sensibilities. “How long are you staying, Mistress Hallis?”
“Father, a word please. Ambrose as well.” Gavin kissed the back of Cinnia’s hand before pushing her gently toward Magda. “Go to the kitchens with Magda, my love. You’ve had a long journey. She’ll take care of you.”
Magda placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Come with me, my girl. Let’s get you fed. Men forget these things until their own bellies are gnawing at their backbones.” She ushered Cinnia out of the hall with Clarimond and Joan following behind them.
Ballard crossed his arms and eyed his son. “Exactly how much did you tell her? She almost leapt out of her skin when she saw my hands.”
“I told her as much as I could without breaking the curse’s strictures.” Gavin cocked an eyebrow. “You can’t deny you’re still a startling sight.”
Ballard conceded the point. “Who is de Sauveterre?”
“You are.” At Ballard’s questioning look, Gavin shrugged. “Ketach Tor is too specific. Sauveterre could be any place, and it’s common enough among the southern provinces as is the name Lovet.”
Ballard chuckled. “I doubt there’s anything common about a ‘safe land.’ In fact, you’d be lucky to find such a place in the world.” He tipped his chin toward the kitchen. “I thought the fruit of this trip was to be more books for Ambrose or another cask of wine. That isn’t a book or a cask.”
Gavin looked sheepish. “I heard rumors that the Monteblanco markets carried rare grimoires. I stopped to have a look, maybe bring something back for Ambrose. I saw Cinnia at the market one morning. She’s a bookbinder.” He cleared his throat, obviously abashed at how quickly he’d fallen to her charms.
“I’ve never beheld a more beautiful girl,” Ambrose said in a reverent voice.
Gavin’s moonstruck expression mirrored Ambrose’s sentiment. “She is. And kind as she is beautiful. I’ve been in Monteblanco for three months now, courting her and working as a swordsmith at the town’s principal smithy.”
“Courtship?” Ballard slid a glance to Ambrose who met it with a sly one of his own. Gavin had known many women during his travels and kept several as mistresses, but he’d never pursued a formal courtship nor lingered in one place for too long. And he had never before brought one of those women to Ketach Tor. This was serious. If the sorcerer’s suppositions regarding the curse and how to break it were correct, then a union based on love between Gavin and his chosen bride might save both father and son. Ballard refused to ignite that small fire of hope and concentrated on the fact that Gavin brought the girl home instead of marrying her in her village. “Why did you bring her into these isolated wilds? I find it hard to believe Ketach Tor is a more hospitable place than her own town, especially in winter.”
Gavin ran a hand over his eyes, and for the first time since his arrival, Ballard noted the exhaustion in his face, the unkempt state of his clothing. He’d traveled hard and fast to get here. “Her family’s in trouble. A wealthy townsman holds her father’s markers, and he can no longer pay. The man demands Cinnia to forgive the debt, or her father will face imprisonment.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. Why did you bring her to Ketach Tor?”
