The Blood Knight - J. Gregory Keyes [102]
Anne smiled. “Yes, I hope that, too, Aunt Elyoner. So tell me, has anything terrible happened while I slept?”
“Terrible? No. Your young knight had some questions for your young swordsman concerning his dueling apparel.”
“I suppose he was next door with Austra,” Anne murmured. She glanced warily at her friend, but her steady breathing continued.
“I suppose he was,” Elyoner replied. “Does that trouble you?”
Anne considered that for a moment, her head cocked to one side. “Not at all,” she replied. “She’s welcome to him.”
“Is she really?” Elyoner said, an odd lilt to her voice. “How liberal of you.”
Anne gave her aunt a look that she hoped would bring an end to the subject. In point of fact, she wasn’t that happy about it. That Austra and Cazio had been naked, almost certainly doing that, just a wall away from her, felt—well, disrespectful.
Still, Cazio’s presence had been fortunate. Again. It was good to know she had someone who would throw himself naked at an enemy to defend her, especially when his heart seemed to be occupied elsewhere. She had profoundly misjudged Cazio when first they had met; she had thought him a braggart, a blowhard, and an incorrigible flirt. The latter was still true, and her chief concern for Austra was that he might prove himself fickle, as well.
But he had been so constant as their protector, so steadfast, that she was starting to believe that he might be less feckless in matters of the heart than he at first appeared. If she had suspected that when first they met…
She realized Elyoner was studying her now, and not the cards. Her aunt’s grin had broadened.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing, dove.” She looked back at her cards. “In any event, Austra is distraught. She stayed awake all night watching you; she only agreed to sleep when I arrived. Sir Neil is outside.”
“Will you tell me what happened between him and Fastia?” Anne asked.
Elyoner shook her head slightly. “Nothing unnatural. Nothing so bad, and not nearly as much as either deserved. Let it stay at that, won’t you? It would be far better that way.”
“I saw her,” Anne said.
“Saw who?”
“Fastia. In my dream. She warned me of the assassin.”
“She would,” Elyoner said without a trace of skepticism. “She always loved you.”
“I know. I wish I had been nicer to her the last time I saw her.”
“The only way to never have that regret is to be unfailingly nice all the time,” Elyoner said. “I cannot imagine how terrible life would be if I had to live it like that.”
“But you are nice all the time, Aunt Elyoner.”
“Pish,” she said. Then her eyes widened. “Why, look at that! The cards are predicting good news today.”
Anne heard boots in the hall, and the hair on her arms suddenly prickled.
“How’s that?” she asked.
“A beloved relation is coming and bringing gifts.”
A rap sounded at the door.
“Are we ready to receive visitors?” Elyoner asked.
“Who is it?” Anne asked, hesitation in her voice.
Elyoner clucked and switched her finger about. “The cards aren’t that specific, I’m afraid,” she said.
Anne pulled the folds of her dressing gown tighter.
“Come in,” she called.
The door creaked, and a tall male form stood there. It was several heartbeats before Anne recognized him.
“Cousin Artwair!” she cried.
“Hello, little saddle burr,” Artwair replied, stepping to her bedside and reaching down for her hand. His gray eyes were stern, as they usually were, but she could tell he was happy enough to see her.
She hadn’t been called “saddle burr” in a long time, and she remembered that it was Artwair who had coined that nickname for her. He’d found her in the stables hidden behind a heap of saddles when she was eight. She couldn’t remember what she had been avoiding at the time, only Cousin Artwair lifting her up with his strong hands…
Something snapped into focus then, and she gasped.
Artwair had only one hand now. Where his right hand ought to be, there was only a bandaged stump.
“What happened to your—Oh, Artwair, I’m so sorry.