Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(187)

He pretended to spur his horse forward and Izlyn threw out her arms to prevent him. But the most surprising thing of all was the sound that came out of her mouth. It was something between a grunt and a yell, bursting forth, and everyone turned to look at her with great surprise. Especially Chrystobel. She stared at her sister with shock.

“Izzie!” she gasped. “You… you made a sound!”

Izlyn was torn between embarrassment and surprise herself. She had indeed startled herself with the outburst but it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Her voice, bottled up for ten long years, had made an astonishing return. She looked at Gart, who was smiling at her. The man had the expression of encouragement on this face and his smile broadened when he made eye contact with the girl.

“Do you want me to catch the rabbit and eat it?” he asked softly. “I will not do it if you do not want me to.”

Izlyn’s heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she could hardly breathe. She was excited, thrilled, and joyful. Life was joyful to her now, a life with English soldiers who were so very kind to her. Especially Gart. She had indeed decided to marry him but he would never know it unless she told him. Fear had kept her silent for ten horrible years. There was no longer any reason to be fearful. There was no longer any reason to remain silent.

Izlyn shook her head to Gart’s question. He was smiling openly at her and she knew he was teasing her. The attention had her happy and content. She pursed her lips, struggling to form words that she hadn’t formed since she had been a toddler, and it wasn’t easy. She was afraid that she had forgotten how. Her lips twitched and her tongue moved. She was trying so very hard to say something to Gart, struggling to bring forth words that had been bottled up inside of her for so long.

Gart could see that she was laboring to speak. His manner turned surprisingly gentle for the man who, most believed, utterly lacked that quality. Perhaps he did, but not where it pertained to a terrorized twelve-year-old girl.

“Tell me, Izlyn,” Gart said softly, encouragingly. “Do you want me to eat the rabbit?”

Izlyn slapped her hand on the wagon bench as if forcing herself to speak, pushing the words out and feeling as if she was vomiting as she did it. She wasn’t used to things coming out of her mouth, but out it did come. She slapped the bench again as if compelling herself to project, fighting with every fiber of her being to bring forth a sound. It was on the tip of her tongue… she could feel it on her lips!

“N-nay,” she finally spit.

Chrystobel burst into tears, throwing her arms around her sister and hugging the girl tightly. Gart, grinning like a fool, came alongside the wagon and reached out, taking Izlyn’s little hand and kissing it sweetly. The men-at-arms surrounding the wagon had no idea why the child’s word was such a great feat, but Rhys, on the other side of the wagon, understood. He had been told the child was mute, too, so he began to clap, applauding the great effort, as Chrystobel hugged her sister and wept. Up at the head of the party, Keller and William heard the commotion and reined their chargers back to the wagon.

The first thing Keller saw was Chrystobel holding her sister and sniffling. He threw up his visor and looked at her with great concern.

“What is wrong?” he demanded gently. “Why are you weeping?”

Chrystobel looked at her husband, wiping the tears on her face. “Izzie spoke!” she exclaimed. “Gart asked her if she wanted him to eat the rabbits and she told him ‘nay’!”

Keller looked at Izlyn, surprised. “She did?” he asked, awe in his voice. “Izzie, is this true?”

Izlyn looked at Keller, her young face rosy and full of delight. She was thrilled with the attention and the praise. She nodded but she didn’t verbally answer him, so he looked over at Gart.

“I do not suppose she wants me to eat those rabbits, does she?” he asked the man.

As Gart grinned, Izlyn looked straight at Keller and shook a finger at him. “N-nay!” she barked.

The knights roared with laughter, as did Chrystobel. She hugged and kissed her sister, giggling as the girl soaked up the praise. They were so happy, thrilled with life, thrilled with what the future would hold. It was a day of blessings and of sorrows with Trevyn’s funeral looming, but at the moment, they were mostly counting their blessings. It was a momentous day, indeed.

The rest of the journey into Machynlleth was pleasant and uneventful after that. Izlyn didn’t say another word, but it didn’t matter. She’d already made a great achievement, at least in her world. In truth, it couldn’t have been a better day in spite of the fact that they were heading for a funeral mass. There was joy among the sorrow.

Surprisingly, the air seemed to be warming a bit in the bright sunshine and everyone seemed to soak up the warmth and sunlight as they traveled the road that was growing less muddy by the minute. The ground was drying up as the sun soaked up the moisture, and as they began to reach the outskirts of the town, they began to see farmers in their fields or shepherds with their flocks. There were a few orchards about, mostly apples, pears, and plums, and being that it was fall, the fruit was being harvested before the colder weather could ruin it.

A young boy herding several goats ran alongside the party of soldiers, directing his goats with a stick by slapping them on the rump or on the shoulder, depending on what he wanted them to do. Izlyn was very interested in the boy, since he was around her age, and she watched him intently. When she lifted a hand to timidly wave at him, he waved wildly, stuck his tongue out at her, and then tore off into another field with the goats running after him. Chrystobel had seen the lad stick his tongue out and she watched Izlyn’s face shift from interest to outrage and then back to interest again. She thought she even saw a hint of a smile.