Dragon Rose(46)
In response he only watched me, still with that hint of a secret smile in the corner of his mouth.
“Laugh if you must,” I said sternly, and got carefully to my feet. “I suppose you think me a very great fool, and perhaps I am. Still, you are going safely back here for now, until I decide what on earth I should do with you.”
His features were so lifelike, so close to my recollection of the dream from the night before, that I halfway expected him to respond, for the painted mouth to open and tell me what a silly young woman I was. But of course nothing of the sort happened, and so I only tucked him away in his special hiding place, in a corner behind the canvases that angled in such a fashion so it could fit neatly without touching any of my other half-finished paintings.
I supposed I should work on one of those, but the thought did not appeal at all. Or perhaps I should simply crawl back into bed and languish there the rest of the day. That appealed to me even less. What I really wanted, I realized, was some fresh air. The storm of the night before had quite blown itself out, and now the sky outside my windows was a deep, calm blue, overlaid with clouds so thick and fluffy they looked as if they had been sheared right off one of Master Marenson’s sheep.
How I would explain venturing outside, when I had just claimed I wasn’t feeling well, I had no idea. But the freshly washed world outside beckoned, and besides, I knew it would not be long before the first snows came and I would be trapped in this castle all winter, lucky if I could make a circuit or two of the rose gardens before the next storm swept in.
That seemed to decide things. I braided my hair back into a thick plait, and donned one of my simplest gowns, the dark blue wool one with the wheat-colored embroidery about the neckline. The rest of it was quite unadorned, however, so it seemed the best choice for tromping around outside. That reminded me there would most likely be mud, and so I put on a pair of calf-high boots instead of my usual slippers, and drew out the wine-colored cloak of heavy wool that I had worn only once so far, when I had walked with Theran in the gardens not three days ago. The wind had blown from the north that afternoon, promising storms. Well, they had come…both inside and outside the castle, unfortunately.
One advantage of the small staff Theran kept at Black’s Keep was that no one seemed to pay much mind to my comings and goings. Not that I came and went all that often, as I spent most of my days painting away in my own rooms. Still, it was a relief to know I could slip outside my chambers once I was dressed, and drift down the stairs to the northern exit with no one apparently the wiser.
Even if someone were to see me, it was the same route I would have taken to go to the rose gardens, and no one would have made much note of my presence there. Sar, perhaps, would have made a comment about the mud and how it was not a good day to go outside, but I did not see her or anyone else, and so made my escape easily enough.
The gardens, however, were not my destination. Beyond the now-bare rosebushes and the colored gravel walks, the forest rose, dark and secret. I knew that sometimes Mat and other men of the household would ride there, to hunt deer and squirrels and even the occasional boar, but I did not much fear encountering any of the men today. They had brought in two fine bucks several days ago, and did not plan to go out again for a day or so more. At least, that was what Melynne had told me, glowing with pride that Mat should be such a fine hunter in addition to being the keep’s general craftsman and jack of all trades.
Why I sought the forest now, I could not exactly say. Perhaps it was only that I had looked off into its expanses from my bedroom window for so long that it seemed a natural thing to explore it before the winter weather closed it off to me until spring. Something about those dark firs and pines, the naked branches of oak and elm, seemed to draw me to them, and I went willingly enough.
The air chilled my face and hands almost at once, for in my rush to leave the castle I had forgotten to put on my gloves. I buried my cold fingers in a fold of my cloak and pushed on, moving past the rose garden and through a yellowed and patchy expanse of grass. Beyond that was a tall hedge with a gate built into it; luckily, the gate was not locked, and I lifted the latch and moved on through. For the first time since I had come to be the Dragon’s Bride, I was outside the grounds of Black’s Keep.
It was very quiet. From somewhere far off I thought I heard the chattering of a brook as it rushed over a stony bed, but otherwise there was no sound, not even of birds or small forest creatures. Or larger ones, I thought, reminding myself that boars sometimes frequented these woods. Well, I would have to hope I’d hear a boar coming; it couldn’t be that difficult, considering the heavy carpet of dead, rustling leaves underfoot.
I had no very clear idea of where I was going but kept moving vaguely northeast. The grey towers of the castle were still visible over my right shoulder, and that comforted me. The stories of my youth were full of tales of children and young women who had gotten lost in the woods and had met unfortunate ends, and I had no desire to number myself one of them.
The air smelled of damp earth and the vague musty scent of decaying leaves. Above that, though, was the tang of pine needles, sharp and aromatic. I breathed deeply, glad of the crisp morning breeze. Odd how I had felt so cold indoors, and yet now enjoyed a chill that must surely be greater here. Perhaps I had grown weary of the castle without even realizing it, tired of the smell of linseed oil and woodsmoke and human sweat.
Whatever the reason, I felt my spirits lift as I walked along, free—if only for a little while—of the tension between Theran and myself, the undercurrents that swirled through the keep. I did not pretend to understand them. To be sure, I hardly understood my role there. I was not a wife in anything but name, and Sar might call me the lady of the castle, but she ruled that place, not I. What purpose a Bride served, I couldn’t begin to guess.