The Hedgewitch Queen

shut and glanced down, smoothing the fabric of my breeches over my knees. The Aryx lay warm and quiescent under my shirt. “What does your aunt say of this?”

“Am I still in knee-breeches, to ask her? Yet I did seek her counsel. She is unhappy with the thought, yet will not forbid me. I never have taken well to forbidding, in any case. I am a nobleman, though I may not look it, or at least enough of one to help a d’mselle in difficulty. My duty is to see you safe.”

Charming of you, and very chivalrous. Still… “And the Captain?”

“The more to guard you, the better.” But his tone turned cool. They were ill-paired, Tristan and this man, by temperament. And, it seemed, by much more. I wondered at that. “Other men, peasants and petty nobles, have gone through the mountains. Tis a hard journey, but better than what lies behind. The Shirlstrienne holds more than just this village, and some bandits are not so fine as we. There are wolves who would as like to slit your throat as steal your purse, merely for the joy of it. Yet even they fear di Narborre and his hounds. I do not think it safe for you to remain here much longer. Rumor of a band of noblemen with a treasure is already seeping through the trees. Hedgewitch charms are all very well, but I saw the spell was unleashed on you at our first meeting. I like not the thought of witnessing it among these houses, poor as they are.”

In other words, the sooner we leave here, the better. “I will speak to Tristan. I may be able to convince him.” If logic will not work, I shall find some other road.

“The sooner the better, d’mselle. Should you find yourself in a position where your Captain’s will is not yours, remember I place myself at your disposal.”

A pretty choice. What reason have I to trust you overmuch? I did not like the thought, for he had sheltered us. Still, new caution crept into me. Could I but convince Tristan to take this far-southron route, I could perhaps overcome his determination to rout the Duc on the field of battle.

My stomach turned to a hard knot. “Why would you do such a thing, di Cinfiliet? You have no cause to wish me well or ill. We can only be a burden to you.”

He rose, a swift motion I took care not to flinch at. “Perhaps I tire of skulking in the Shirlstrienne like an animal. What better way to regain a place of honor for myself? And my…my Tante R’si grows old, and I yearn for a softer bed for her to spend her age in.” Di Cinfiliet turned to me, offering his hand. “Come, I had best take you back. She will scold my ears off if I overtire you.”

I let him draw me to my feet, his hand warm and hard against mine. He smelled of the woods and smoke, and a faint healthy tinge of maleness. He rested his left hand on his swordhilt as he regarded me, our fingers tangled together briefly.

I recovered my hand and dropped my gaze. “I thank you for your honesty, chivalier.”

He offered his arm again. “You are not an empty-headed woman, Vianne. If I may be so bold?”

It warmed me abruptly, and I slid my own arm through his. “You may, sieur Adrien. I shall speak to the Captain. Between us, we may make an impression on his stubbornness.”

“I do not hope for much. Though if anything can make an impression on that harsh clay, I suspect twill be your speaking and not mine.”

A vote of confidence, perhaps. We returned silently the way we had come, and when we came in sight of Risaine’s house under its huge, spreading willum tree, I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“I shall leave you here.” Di Cinfiliet reclaimed his arm. “Should you have need of me, d’mselle Vianne, simply say the word.” He gave me a bow, considerably more polished than his first — he must have been watching the others — and, turning on his heel, stalked away with his long loping stride.

I watched him. Sunlight fell through the leaves, and he blended into the forest’s green and brown as if he had been born to it.

My cheeks, for some reason, were flaming-hot.

* * *

That afternoon I wore a fresh set of Tinan di Rocham’s clothes as I stepped out of Risaine’s low door, carrying a bundle that was the shift I had worn while bathing and some other bits of cloth Risaine wished taken to the brook to be washed.

I threaded my way slowly through the bandit village and had almost reached its fringes before Adersahl di Parmecy fell into step beside me. “And a good afternoon to you, d’mselle,” he greeted, smoothing his mustache. “Where are you bound?”

I held up the bundle of linen. “Some of the women are doing washing down by the brook. M’dama Risaine’s due along any moment.” I tossed my damp braid over my shoulder. “I would speak to the Captain, though. Where is he?”

“Went with our bandit lordling to view di Narborre’s tracks.” Adersahl grimaced. “Also to lay traps along the approaches to the village. Di Cinfiliet is all but daring di Narborre to come and duel.”

I absorbed this. Adersahl shortened his long strides to match my slow pace. “I do not think it wise. But di Cinfiliet is the leader of this village, I suppose he does what he feels best.” And perhaps he will broach the subject to Tristan himself, and I can add my own thoughts later. Though such a turn of events is likely to make my Captain even more stubborn.

Adersahl nodded. The feather in his hat bobbed. “The Captain did ask me to watch over you today.”

My heart lightened, turned soft inside me. “I thought so.”

One of the many lean dirt-colored dogs trotted past, nose to the ground. I smelled woodsmoke, cooking food, heard a jumping-rhyme. “There are so many children here,” I said. “They do not seem so dangerous.”

“For the most part.” Adersahl took my elbow as I almost tripped over a fallen branch. “Some are criminals, escaping the King’s justice. We have kept careful watch.”

I do not think I have much to fear from them. “I’ve spoken to none but di Cinfiliet and his aunt. They seem to think I am best kept a mystery.” My fingers lifted almost of their own accord to touch the hard lump of the Seal under my shirt.

He smoothed his mustache again. Was he nervous? It did not seem possible, he was so phlegmatic. “I would agree. The less anyone knows of who you truly are, the better.”

“Adersahl.” For a moment I could not find the words I wanted. It was not ladylike to ask, but here I was in breeches, strolling about unescorted with men. Propriety could not be my sole worry. “I would ask you summat of the Captain.”

What does he think of di Cinfiliet, and his aunt? What happened to Risaine’s son? Was the King truly unconcerned with d’Orlaans and the tax farmers? How soon will we leave here, and what place is safe? Even Arcenne might not hold or hide us well.

I could not decide what to ask first, and I had to prepare my ground in other directions as well. While I framed my first sally, he neatly took me by surprise by slanting me a dark glance, his eyes twinkling merrily. “Certainly, d’mselle. Tis high time you did. Twas often a joke among the Guard that the Captain could not draw his lady’s attention away from old books and peasant magic. He has haunted your steps a long while.”

Tis not what I meant. My heart gave a thundering leap. “He did not ever seem to care before.”

“Well, he was discreet. He has enemies, d’mselle, as do you. Someone might have known enough to strike at you to harm him, for there are few surer ways.” Adersahl let go of my elbow. There was a small path worn down a hill toward the brook, and I chose my steps with care. “I think he has fancied you since he came to Court, but tis only the opinion of a lowly Guard.”

“He came to Court when I was thirteen.” Fascinating as this line of inquiry was, I had other business. “Who exactly is di Cinfiliet?”

“I suspect Tristan knows, and Jierre. But I do not. Not exactly.”

You, sieur, are a very unpracticed liar. “Risaine bore a child to the King. She implies her son is dead, and yet she has a nephew of a certain age. I have not heard the Cinfiliet name before, and it would ease my mind to know a little more.” I did not dare voice my darker imaginings.