And it wasn’t just his eyes. Everyone was watching her, waiting for her misstep. On her ship, she would have dumped them all on an island, and sailed on to find another, more trustworthy crew.
Of course, sailing such a ship by herself was impossible, and it was even more so trying to run this place by herself.
Childress, a traitor and dead. The other lords dead, and their children vying for power and plotting her overthrow on the new council. And Darius, one-time friend but secret spy, gone for good.
There was no one for her to turn to.
She remembered Thaddeus and his warning the other night. Something about evil coming from Glittering Birch and destroying the Greenweald. At the time, she thought that something would have to be done about Thaddeus. He and Celia were the only credible threats to her. They were enough, especially if they joined forces.
She needed an ally.
“My horse,” she told a groom.
Minutes later, she was mounted and, spurning the offer of accompaniment from the guards, rode off into the Greenweald.
♦ ♦ ♦
The guards at Glittering Birch, if they could be called that, didn’t so much as glance up as she rode through. The place was a mess, with overgrown gardens, fountains spitting foul-smelling water and Folk scattered about as if they had no jobs to do, nowhere to go.
No one stopped her as she mounted the steps and opened the doors. Inside, the place stank of unwashed bodies and unhandled waste. Trash was strewn about, stains blotched the furniture, and large scratches marred the floors.
Jocasta stopped. Ahead of her was a once-grand staircase, now filthy. A man was sprawled on the bottom step, his back against the large newel post and an empty bottle by his side.
“Where is Jamshir?” she demanded.
“You mean Lord Jamshir?” The man giggled and pointed up the stairs. “He’s up there, somewhere.”
Jocasta moved on, not bothering to thank the drunk.
At the top of the stairs she followed the wide hallway until it came to large double doors, thrown open to a huge room, lined with heavily curtained windows along one wall.
Jamshir was seated in a large chair, apparently talking to himself, even though there was an enormous man standing slightly behind him. That must be General Bragnold, she thought to herself.
He was a disappointment. Instead of a fierce warrior, he simply stared at nothing, his chin glistening from the drool that occasionally dripped from his lower lip.
“Jamshir,” she said, striding into the room.
The Lord of the Greenweald stopped his muttering, his face frozen. Then he slowly turned to her, his eyes narrowing.
“It’s Lord Jamshir. I forgive you this time, but if it happens again, Bragnold here will remove your head from your body.”
Jocasta glanced at the general. She wouldn’t have been intimidated by him at any time, and certainly not now.
“Although,” Jamshir continued. “It would be a shame to remove such a beautiful head from such a fine body.” He grinned at her. “What can I do for you? Name it, and it’s yours.”
She moved closer to him, trying to ignore the foul odor that rose from his body every time he moved.
“I come as a friend, Lord Jamshir, and perhaps an ally. There are forces at work against you. I want to help.”
“Against me?” Jamshir tittered, an annoying high-pitched laugh that was out of sync with his features. “Why would anyone be against me? I’m the hero of the Greenweald, a throwback to the age of heroes according to most. I saved us all from the Soul Gaunt attack, holding up the lantern, regardless of how badly I was burned!”
He held a trembling arm over his head, keeping it there for a moment before lowering it again.
“I was the savior,” he said quietly.
Jocasta studied him. The rumors of his madness were not only true; if anything they were understated.
“Be that as it may,” she said, “you have enemies. Those jealous of you, perhaps. But I will stay by your side and guard you.”
“I have Bragnold for that.”
“Yes. Still there’s never any harm in having more friends.”
Jamshir rose from his seat and approached her. He walked in a circle around her, his gaze moving up and down.
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” he said, stepping closer, “but maybe we can work out something else.”
He held out his hand to her. Jocasta looked around at the state of this once majestic House. Thaddeus may have been telling the truth. Whatever was coming for the Greenweald was already here and would be coming for the rest of them.
Swallowing her disgust, she took Jamshir’s hand and let him lead her from the room, leaving Bragnold behind, staring at nothing.
Chapter 44
Greta helped Celia clean off her hand, using a rough cloth to scrub at it until any signs of the slimy filth were gone. It still tingled, and her fingers were a bright red, which could have been from the scouring. Regardless, it was all she could do to keep her eyes open as she submitted to Greta’s ministrations.
“Get some sleep,” the older woman said when she finished. “I can’t believe you’ve been out there all night.”
“We thought you were gone for sure, girl.” Friedrich’s voice was rough, but the hand he placed on her shoulder was gentle.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring her out.” Celia had told them about finding Lyssa in the manor and her reaction when she tried to bring her into the front room. There had been tears, but both thanked her for trying.
“Go to bed, dear,” Greta repeated. “We’ll talk
