“No thanks to me,” she said ruefully as she finished applying the bandage. She smoothed the cloth over his arm, her gaze softening as she looked up at him. “I should not have come to see you today, but I have had a horrid morning, and I wanted to look upon something bright andbeautiful.”
Her forthright words startled Riann. “I have been called many things,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile, “but beautiful has not been one ofthem.”
“Handsome, then.” She smiled back, then lifted her hand, as if she were about to touch his face. When she hesitated, Riann grabbed her hand and pressed it against the stubble of his jawline, savoring the sensation of her warm palm against his flesh. His blood raced through his veins as Tariel licked her lips, and his own began totingle.
“I know it was a mistake to kiss you in the garden that day,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But—”
Tariel suddenly withdrew, jumping to her feet. Riann was about to protest, but then a gardener came around the corner, a pair of pruning shears in hishand.
“Thank you for answering my question, Sir Riann,” Tariel said quickly, inclining her head. “Good day toyou.”
Riann cursed under his breath as he watched her go. Every instinct in his body roared at him to race after her…but he could not. With no lands or wealth to his name, he could ill afford to support a woman, never mind one as lovely as Tariel. It was time for him to stop deluding himself that the woman of his dreams would ever be within hisreach.
3
There were fewer sounds moresoothing to Calrain than the scratch of quill on parchment. The sound filled his endless days and nights as he copied manuscripts and illuminated pages, transcribed letters, and performed the various other duties required of him as ascribe.
But as he sat at his small desk in the castle clerk’s office, the only sound in the room was the snores of his master, Brother Tersen, as he napped on a chair in the corner with a bottle of brandy clutched to hischest.
It was not the snores that kept Calrain from his work. He was used to his master sleeping on the job. Though Tersen was a member of the Brothers of Roisen, who were supposed to live quiet, pious lives, he often spent late nights with a bottle of brew, and was rarely conscious for more than a few hours a day. Ever since Calrain was old enough, Brother Tersen had been more than happy to dump as much work as possible on him while he used his desk as a pillow. His incessant snores had become background noise to Calrain. It was nice to not have his master constantly looking over hisshoulder.
No, what had captured Calrain’s attention had nothing to do with his master, and everything to do with the pretty, dark girl who had faced off briefly with the Captain of the Guard. He had viewed the entire exchange from the tiny window in front of his desk, and though he could not hear what had transpired, it was obvious what had happened. Tariel, like so many other girls in Castle Tyrook, had gone to sneak a glimpse of the knights training in the courtyard, and had been unceremoniously chasedoff.
He couldn’t blame Tariel for being interested in the knights. It was only natural—they were strong and handsome, and their shining armor and powerful bodies drew attention wherever they went. He wished he could get half as much attention, but as he was shut up in this dusty old study day and night, toiling away for little pay and no thanks, it was little wonder that none of the girls knew hisname.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he admitted to himself as he finally turned his attention back to his work. Dipping his quill in the ink, he pressed the tip to the creamy page and carefully formed the letters on the page he was copying. Tariel knew who he was. The two of them had been close once, as children, back when he’d first come to the castle. As an orphan who had been taken in by the Brotherhood, he’d been sent to Castle Tyrook to apprentice under Brother Tersen. Back then, Brother Tersen had not been such a drunkard, and Calrain had been allowed more free time as a child. It wasn’t long before he and Tariel had become friends, stealing away to play in one of the dusty, neglected storagerooms.
It was in that storage room he had taught Tariel how to read and write—a skill forbidden to women in Fjordland. A thrill still went through him every time he thought about those fraught days, full of excitement and danger, when he’d snuck books, parchment, and writing implements down to the storage room for their lessons. No, it was not the same as mounting a horse and riding off to battle or adventure, but Calrain had risked his life all the same for the bewitching girl who had so easily wrapped him around herfinger.
A knock at the door interrupted his musings. “Come in,” he called, turning his chair to face hisvisitor.
His mood lifted a little as Riann entered. He towered over Calrain, who instinctively rose to his feet, not wanting to be completely dwarfed. The heavy armor he’d been wearing in the courtyard was gone, and instead he wore a blue-gray doublet, trousers, and knee-high boots. The mark of Roisen—a falcon with three lightning bolts jutting from its body—was emblazoned on his broad chest, and his shaggy blond hair flew freely around his shoulders, no longer encumbered by hishelmet.
He could see why Tariel lusted after Riann, but did his best to push aside the flash of jealousy he felt. It wasn’t as if Riann was in any better position than Calrain. If not even the wealthy merchants and lords who had asked for Tariel’s hand had succeeded, what chance did either of them have? The dreams he and Tariel had shared when they had been children had been ground into dust by the hands of time, and the two of them were just as bound by convention as anyoneelse.
“Sir Riann,” he said, inclining his head in greeting. “Do you wish to send another letter to yoursister?”
Riann gave him a lopsided smile. “You know me too well. We got paid today, so I’d like to get the letter out as quickly aspossible.”
Calrain nodded. Riann was one of the best fighters in the castle, but also one of the poorest knights, as he sent all his money off to his sister, a single woman with a small child living in Marston. She’d been thrown out of her family’s house after a visiting lord had raped and impregnated her, and without Riann’s money she would have starved todeath.
Riann pulled a small coin out of his pocket to pay for the transcription, but Calrain shook his head. “There is no need to pay me,” he said. “I know how little of your salary you keep foryourself.”
Riann frowned. “But you must take it. I cannot accept yourcharity.”
Calrain thought for a moment. He was slight of frame, especially compared to Riann, but a large part of that was due to his lack of physical activity. “Your coin is not an acceptable form of payment. I require somethingelse.”
Riann raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a sword forhire—”
“I am not looking for a mercenary,” Calrain interrupted. “Just someone to teach me to protectmyself.”
Riann stared at him. “Why does a clerk need to wield asword?”
“Even a clerk can be waylaid by a highwayman,” Calrain pointed out. “Besides, all Brothers of Roisen are supposed to be trained in basic self-defense. If I weren’t stuck out here with…” He glanced toward his master, but Brother Tersen was dead to theworld.
Riann laughed. “Yes, I imagine he couldn’t teach you how to so much as hold a knife, never mind wield it against someone. But still, training you in exchange for a single letter seems a steep priceindeed.”
“I’ll write unlimited letters for you,” Calrain said quickly. “And I’ll even teach you how to read and write, if youwant.”
