from here to your cottage — ”
But Granny just chuckled. “You’ll see,” she said enigmatically.
And when they reached the gate, to Bella’s astonishment, there was a sled, nicely appointed with plenty of fur robes and blankets, with the ugliest little horse she had ever seen in her life harnessed to it. There were no reins, and that alone would have told her that this whole rig was somehow magical, even without the horse turning his head to give her an obvious wink. Sapphire helped the old woman into it and tucked the furs around her. Granny chuckled. “It’s blessed useful to be a Godmother’s friend sometimes.”
So it seemed, for as Bella watched the sled move off without any guidance from Granny at all, it seemed to disappear unnaturally fast down the road, as if the sled was going at a much faster pace and for a much longer distance than Bella knew was possible. It was such an unnerving sight that it made her insides feel a bit uneasy.
The green-faced person in the mirror regarded her benignly. “I regret to say that the Godmother is busy at the moment — and lest you garner the impression that I am putting you off, let me assure you that her physical presence is required at a Royal Christening in order to avert what will certainly be a hideous curse. She has taken her hand mirror with her, and as soon as she speaks with me, I shall tell her of your request. I will ascertain if you are in the presence of this mirror when she can reply to you, and if you are, you will hear this.”
A silvery bell tone broke the silence.
“Otherwise, please try when you next can.” The face smiled at her. She smiled tentatively back. Once you got used to the fact that it was green…
“She did instruct me to give you some advice. She suggests that you cultivate the Gamekeeper. Eric, I believe?”
“Cultivate the Gamekeeper? Why?” That seemed odd.
“Eric is older than Sebastian. He has also been in a unique position to observe matters within and without the Old Duke’s household — neither a servant, nor an acknowledged family member. He may well have seen things that escaped the Old Duke’s attention. He managed the affairs of the estate very well as Sebastian’s Guardian, and has continued to do so as Sebastian’s proxy, so he is scarcely the crude and unlettered Woodsman that he would like people to think that he is.” The green face raised an eloquent eyebrow. “The Godmother believes he can be an important ally for you, but it will take some skill to manage this.”
She bit her lip. Managing her stepmother and the twins was one thing. Their interests were limited, and as long as those interests were satisfied, it was relatively easy to get them to do what she wanted. Or rather, to refrain from doing what she didn’t want them to do. But…
No, she was fairly certain he would see through any attempt to manipulate him.
“You know,” the face continued, giving her a very penetrating look, “he might just respond to the offer of friendship.”
She almost laughed out loud. Eric? That…rake? He would probably take any such offer as an invitation to her bed! Still, if the Godmother thought it would be a good idea…
“I’ll try,” she said.
The face seemed satisfied. “As soon as your mutual circumstances allow, the Godmother will be happy to consult with you, mademoiselle. I pledge you that.”
Since that seemed to be all that could be said at the moment, she nodded and thanked him. The mirror clouded, then reflected only her face.
There was still time; she might actually catch Eric at the stable before he came looking for supper. She filled a basket with the sorts of things she thought he might want: syrup for sore throats and coughs; willow syrup for fever and headache; a different sort of liniment, one that warmed instead of cooling; salve for wounds; ointment for winter-cracked skin. She threw on her cloak and hurried down to the stable, and did indeed catch him just coming out.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be at supper, so I wanted to be sure you got these things,” she said, handing the basket toward him. He took it, looking very much surprised, then pulled out a bottle and read the carefully printed label.
“Very useful,” he said, without any of his usual sarcasm. “Thank you.”
She shrugged. “I haven’t labeled anything yet, and I know where everything is, but no one else does. I hate making out the labels; it’s tedious. As bad as making out invitations.”
He laughed. “Well, thank you, because I was not planning on coming in to supper tonight. Too much to do. Three days to the full moon, and I’ll be going right back out as soon as I get a bite to eat.”
“Is there any way I can help?” she asked, obeying an impulse she didn’t quite understand.
He stared at her thoughtfully. “Can you shoot a crossbow?” he asked.
“I can look as though I can shoot a crossbow,” she replied.
“That might be enough. Yes, you can help. Mind, this will be hard riding, not fast, but over difficult terrain. That mule of yours will actually be ideal for such a rough patch. I’m going after someone who has been aggressively persistent in setting traps. I’ve destroyed them three times in a row and he hasn’t given up. I expect an actual confrontation.” He eyed her speculatively. “I found and refurbished an astride saddle, and I would imagine that some of Sebastian’s old clothing would fit you. Bundled up, you’ll look enough like a man to be of some use, if only as a distraction. Me alone, they might attack. Two men… probably not, and even then their attention will be divided.” He tilted his head to one side. “Think you have the stomach for it?”
“I can try,” she said, as forthrightly as she could. “This isn’t exactly anything I’ve done before.”
“Honest answer. Good. We’ll try it in the afternoon. Tell your invisibles to round you up some riding boots and Sebastian’s old hunting clothes from when he was about seventeen. Nobody ever throws anything away in this place.” He snorted.
