around. Betha’s small area sat like an island of calm in a raging
storm.
Sianna considered the situation for a minute, then said,
“Betha, I think you should take charge of the kitchen.”
Surprise flickered across the woman’s face. “I don’t know.
I’ve only been here a short time. Would people listen to me?”
“They already come to you. You’re a marvelous cook.
Someone needs to take control. Look at the waste and filth.
It’s no wonder people are ill with stomach complaints. With
your skills, you can easily prevent the problem.”
A thoughtful expression on her face, Betha looked around.
“Perhaps you’re right. But will Rul Cathor allow it?”
“Don’t worry about the Rul, just make this kitchen yours.
When he eats your cooking rather than burnt offerings, he’ll
not complain.” At least Sianna hoped he wouldn’t. Where Kyne
was concerned she wasn’t sure of anything.
FIVE
That afternoon Sianna pushed aside her growing fatigue to
work with Betha and several other women clearing and cleaning
the kitchen. Warda followed, at her side yet never underfoot—
a silent shadow, guard, companion. After watching her for a
short time, people started to gather around her to seek instruction
and guidance. Soon their efforts spilled out into the great hall.
Bit by bit, order banished chaos. Laughter and good spirits
infected everyone as they worked.
From a quiet corner of the hall Kyne conducted a meeting,
but she felt his gaze following her as she moved around offering
advice and a helping hand where needed. He said nothing when
she gave orders to the men and boys to sweep the stone floors
and had them lay sweet-smelling, fresh grasses. Nor did he
object as she directed the scrubbing of the hall’s massive hearth
or when she exiled the hounds to the courtyard.
What did he think of her efforts? Though in truth she was
his prisoner, he granted her more liberty than she’d ever known.
After the strict regime of the valetudinarian and her father’s
even harsher rule, this taste of freedom, though false, was heady
indeed.
Why did he let her mingle with his people? Let them come
to know her? Allow her to guide and direct them? His steady
gaze made her anxious and filled her with a longing for something
she couldn’t name.
Graham’s hand on her shoulder startled her, and she dropped
the rag she was using to scrub the last long trestle table.
“Stop now,” he said. “Sit and eat last meal with the others.”
“There is still much to do. I’ll eat later.” Sianna snatched
up the rag and took another swipe at a stubborn stain. Only
hard work took her mind from thoughts of her father’s crimes
and questions about her fate at the hands of his enemies. The
mouthwatering smell of Betha’s cooking filled the great hall,
replacing the previous rank odors. The loud gurgle from Sianna’s
stomach made her blush and remember her lessons from the
Sisters. A lady should never reveal bodily functions.
Graham chuckled, took the rag from her fingers, and pushed
her down onto the bench. “You’ve done enough for one day.”
“But I....” Sianna protested.
“Dravid,” he called to a passing lad. “Fetch the Lady Sianna
a plate and bring me one as well.”
“You are a kind man.” His gruff consideration for one he
thought of as an enemy touched her. Though he didn’t yet trust
her, his doubts about her guilt eased some of her pain.
A hint of color stained his cheeks. “Not kind, merely hungry.
And I dislike eating alone.”
She refrained from pointing out the many others he could
choose to dine with. From across the room she could feel
Katya’s hostile glare. “I wish Kyne could look beyond my birth
as well, and see me for who I am.” The wistful words slipped
out before she could prevent them.
“And just who are you?”
Without betraying Laila, she couldn’t answer Graham’s
pointed question. She ducked her head.
“May I join you for last meal?”
Her gaze flew up to meet Kyne’s. Hard and cold like a
of accomplishment from her. Could she do nothing to please
him? His unjustified anger stirred her own, and her tongue acted
without her permission. “Why would you wish to eat with me?
How can you bear to be near me? I am my father’s daughter.”
Immediately, she regretted her outburst and vowed not to let
him bait her again.
Kyne’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened, but Sianna
couldn’t tell if her outburst had angered or hurt him. Nor, she
decided, did she care. His feelings were not her concern, and
she’d already survived his anger.
Graham grabbed Kyne’s arm and pulled him down onto
the bench. “Quit squabbling like discontented children. You spoil
my appetite.”
In the sudden silence, Dravid arrived with a tray carrying
two plates heaped high with food, a pitcher of ale and two
glasses. With a shy smile for Sianna he served them.
“Thank you. Would you bring a plate for Rul Cathor as
well?” she asked.
The boy nodded and hurried off.
“Dravid is besotted with you. They all jump to do your
bidding.” Kyne sneered and waved his arm toward the others
busy eating their meal. “Have you put a spell on them?”
“No.” Spurred by his uncalled-for sarcasm, her tongue again
slipped its leash. “I just treat them as I would like to be treated.
It’s a lesson you might do well to learn.”
Kyne’s sneer turned to snarl. “I need no lessons from the
spawn of DiSan....”
“Kyne,” Graham warned quietly, his gaze shooting to the
people only a table away. “Sianna, if you and Kyne cannot
control your tongues, I will be forced to abandon my food. Call
a truce, at least through last meal.” His tone lightened. “I am
hungry.”
“It’s well known in the castle, you are always hungry,”
Sianna teased, taking his lead to ease the rising tension. A big
man, Graham had a hearty, non-discriminating appetite. Little
prompted him to forego eating.
At Graham’s heartfelt plea, a grin softened the stiff line of
Kyne’s mouth. He looked at Sianna, then stretched out his left
hand palm up, fingers slightly spread, the traditional male to
female gesture of acceptance. “Truce?”
With what lay between them was a truce possible? How
long could it last?
“Truce,” she repeated and placed her hand over his. Lying
in his strong, calloused palm, her fingers looked pale and fragile,
like her life. Briefly, his fingers closed over hers, sending a
shaft of warmth through her, then opened again. She snatched
her hand away and buried it in her lap. By giving her right hand
into his left, she accepted his dominance, and he offered her his
protection. The irony was not lost o
n either of them. Only
Graham seemed oblivious to the farce as he dug into his meal.
With Kyne’s gaze resting on her, at first the food tasted like
ashes in Sianna’s mouth, but to rebuild her strength she forced
herself to eat. As her taste buds woke up, his hostility was
forgotten and her anger and confusion evaporated under the
spicy aroma of Betha’s stew and the fragrant smell of fresh
baked bread. She barely restrained herself from gulping the
delicious food. While plentiful, food at the valetudinarian was
plain and bland to accommodate the sensitive palates of the
elderly sisters and their patients. Those with a taste for more
variety usually did without.
“Would you have some more, milady?”
She looked up to find Betha standing at her elbow with a
serving bowl in her hands.
“Yes, please.” Sianna held up her empty plate. The good
Sisters had often teased her about her overly healthy appetite.
They would exclaim and wonder where such a small person
put such large helpings of food.
Betha gave her a smug smile, and three pairs of eyes
focused on Sianna’s flat belly. At this reminder of her situation,
her stomach heaved and appetite fled.
They believed she ate for two. What would happen when
time revealed her lie?
“Sianna! Father!” Zoa’s excited squeal drew Kyne’s
attention from Sianna’s suddenly pale face. He turned to see
the child race across the hall and skid to a stop next to Sianna.
“See my new dress?” She twirled around, sending the her full
skirt flying. “Grenna made it for me. Isn’t it pretty?”
Without taking a breath, Zoa launched, into a long detailed
description of the dressmaking process. While Sianna listened
attentively to the child’s chatter, Kyne frowned. A moment
passed before he realized what puzzled him about Zoa.
Small and thin for her age, Zoa rarely finished a sentence
without coughing, yet throughout her recitation she hadn’t
missed a breath. Her dark eyes sparkled, and her once too-
pale, taut skin glowed with a soft, rosy color. She looked, if not
healthy, at least not ill. Kyne hesitated to hope Althea’s diagnosis
was wrong.
“It’s a lovely dress,” Sianna said. “Grenna is a talented
seamstress, and you’re a fortunate young lady.”
The fatigue in Sianna’s voice bothered Kyne. Why? He
should be pleased to see her brought low. To see the defiance
drained from her, as the life had drained from Aubin.
All day he had watched as she, without being asked or
commanded, went about the castle and brought order from
chaos. In a few hours she had not only cleared away the dirt
and grime of years of neglect, but the whole atmosphere had
changed. People moved about with firmer steps. They hummed
under their breath, and smiles hovered around their lips.
“It’s as if she’s bewitched them.”
Though Graham teased, Kyne could hear a note of awe in
Graham’s whisper. “Other than a good example, I doubt she
casts any spells.” Kyne glared at his friend. Though many of
the common folk still believed in the old tales of witches and
magic, Kyne gave little credence to superstitious nonsense.
Whatever chore Sianna deemed necessary, she pitched in and
did along with the others.
Wheezing, the grandmotherly Grenna caught up with her
charge. “Have a care, Zoa. You’ll lose your breath again, as
I’ve lost mine trying to keep up with the likes of you.” She
rested one palm over her ample bosom and fanned herself with
her other hand. “Quit pestering the Rul. It’s time for little girls
to be abed.”
“But I’m not tired,” Zoa protested. She climbed into
Sianna’s lap, wrapped her arms around her waist, and pouted.
A ragged cough shook her body. At that small sound, Kyne’s
hopes faded.
Sianna’s arm curled protectively around the little girl. Her
hand spread out over Zoa’s back, and she whispered something
into the child’s ear. Around Sianna’s splayed fingers a warm,
pinkish glow enveloped Zoa’s back. Kyne blinked, and the glow
vanished. A mere trick of light?
Zoa nodded and gave Sianna a tight hug.
Grenna turned to Sianna. “Pardon, milady. A bath has been
readied for you in Rul Cathor’s chamber, and I’ve found you
some fresh clothing.”
From the worn, grimy shirt and trousers Sianna wore,
Grenna’s glare shifted to Kyne. Like a chastened child, his
feeling of guilt over Sianna’s treatment increased.
“A bath?”
At her thankful disbelief, his guilt doubled.
“Yes, milady. Later you can visit the bathing chambers, but
after your long trip and tiring day, we, that is Betha and I, thought
you might like the comfort and privacy of your chamber. Don’t
dally now, or the water will grow cold.” Grenna held out her
hand to Zoa. “Come now, poppet. To bed with you.”
After giving Sianna another hug, Zoa bounced from her lap
and skipped away alongside her nanny. Again, Zoa’s easy
breathing and energy amazed Kyne.
“Have you finished your meal?” Graham asked Sianna.
“What?” Her blue eyes wide and wistful, she looked up,
then back down at her empty plate. A blush spread over her
cheeks. “Oh...yes....If you’ll excuse me.” She rose and hurried
after Grenna and Zoa.
Graham’s thick eyebrows lifted. Humor twinkled in his eyes
as he asked, “Where do you think she puts it all?”
Kyne barely heard Graham’s teasing question as he
watched Sianna rush away. In minutes she would strip off the
simple cotton shirt and wool trousers she wore and slide naked
into steaming water. At the imagined image his mouth went
dry. He jumped to his feet. The bench tipped over and clattered
to the floor. Graham’s laughter followed him out of the hall into
the night.
Cool, moist air swirled around him, but didn’t douse the fire
within.
***
Kyne knew he should retire to his chamber, but the thought
of Sianna in his bed, warm and damp from her bath, kept him
standing in the chilly hall. Long after last meal, he stood at the
top of the stairs and gazed down into the now quiet great hall.
He shivered at the memory of the boy’s blade slicing above
Sianna’s head. How close she’d come to death. Why didn’t the
thought of her head separated from her body fill him with
satisfaction, as it should? Even now, her foolish bravery made
him go cold with dread.
Though the big man made no sound, as usual, Kyne sensed
Graham’s approach behind him.
“Is it my imagination, or does the hall seem less chaotic
since Sianna arrived?” Graham asked, his gaze directed at the
makeshift infirmary. “It appears DiSanti’s daughter is truly a
healer.”
“Don’t speak of her identity, even when you think us alone.
Do you wish her dead?”
“Do you?�
�
Did he? Unwilling or unable to answer, Kyne wasn’t sure
which, he ignored Graham’s question and offered an explanation
for order in the hall. “Perhaps the people are just subdued after
this morning’s episode?”
“Perhaps.” Graham merely restated the obvious. He, along
with Kyne, had watched as she turned the castle upside down
and set it to rights. Kyne’s gaze followed Graham’s to the left.
Already the small infirmary area was organized, the patients
resting comfortably on fresh bedding, pallets lined up, the floors
cleared of bloody rags and mopped clean. Even Althea moved
with more spring than Kyne had ever before seen, and he’d
known the old healer all of his eight and twenty annum.
“The people respond to her gentle touch and soft voice. Is
she truly evil? Can anyone fool so many?”
Graham’s questions struck too close to Kyne’s growing
doubts. “Do you think she carries Aubin’s child?”
Did she indeed carry his brother’s child? The idea left him
angry and confused. Should he rejoice that a part of Aubin
lived on, or rage that Cathor blood mingled with DiSanti venom?
“Perhaps we get ahead of ourselves,” Kyne cautioned. “A
good appetite and fatigue are not proof the woman is breeding.
And if she is, what guarantee do we have the child is indeed
Aubin’s?
“If she is in league with her father in Aubin’s murder, if she
wants the power marriage to Prince Timon will give her, why
did she dally with Aubin? Allow herself to be caught? An
experienced woman would know enough to prevent an
unplanned pregnancy. The methods are simple enough. Does
she fake these simple signs to delay her judgement?”
“Do you seek to convince yourself of her innocence or of
her guilt?” Graham asked.
“Could I be wrong about her?” Kyne kept the more
burdensome questions to himself. Could he spare her? Send
her into exile rather than see her killed? The more time he
spent in her company, the less he wanted to see her dead.
Executing a woman, even one guilty of terrible crimes, was not
something he felt easy with. “Zoa is thoroughly taken with her.
Even Warda is now her devoted slave. I set him as her jailer,
yet he acts more her guardian.”
Kyne felt Graham’s unspoken compassion for his difficult