My Lady Jane(89)

“You’re alive,” she felt compelled to point out again.

“So are you,” he replied, sitting down carefully next to her. “We’re miracles, you and I.”

“I’m a ferret,” she said like she was confessing a great sin that she wasn’t sorry for.

“I noticed that, too. I’m a kestrel. Pleased to make your acquaintance. And it would be rather splendid, except that when I fly I seem to lose my brain. I’m working on it. Flying should be useful, when I can control it more. I can fly ahead and scout. Spy on people. I can’t wait to spy on people. Just think of all the dirt I’ll dig up.”

She fingered the edge of the scratchy linen sheet. “That’s wonderful.”

“So we’re E?ians,” he said jubilantly. “At last!”

She smiled again, but her heart wasn’t in it. She was still hurting, he thought. He took her hand. “Janey. You’re going to be all right now. Gran says so, and you dare not defy Gran.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Well, I’m going to be fine. I promise.”

He glanced out the window, where the sun was making its descent in the sky. “It will be dusk soon, and your husband will return. Promise him, too.”

“How is he?” she asked in a wavering voice. “Is he very angry with me?”

“Why would Gifford be angry?”

“He told me to stay behind when he went into the tavern. But I went in anyway.”

Now there was a big surprise.

“He’s not angry. He’s worried about you, of course,” Edward answered. “Does his breath smell of hay? I often wondered.”

Jane smacked him, then winced. “We had a fight, when I became queen. Dudley wanted me to make him king, as an equal, but I refused.”

“Smart girl, I’d say. I think he’s forgiven you,” Edward said.

It was undeniable, the way Gifford felt about Jane. The man had been in agony at the thought of losing her. His love had been like a light burning in the room last night, clear to anyone who saw it, from the look on his face when he thought she might be dying, to how he’d paced the room and fretted about her those long hours before she’d become a girl again. Edward had not been able to stop thinking about the way Gifford had held Jane’s hand to his cheek and kissed it. Edward hadn’t ever known that depth of feeling. Not romantically, anyway.

Gifford loved Jane. And judging by her face when she talked about her husband, Jane loved Gifford, too. They loved each other. Even if they hadn’t admitted it to themselves yet.

Edward smiled.

Maybe there was going to be a happy ending to this story, after all.





TWENTY-THREE


Jane

“The key to changing to your animal form,” Gran said, “is to know your heart’s desire.”

Right, Jane thought. My heart’s desire.

It was late afternoon, and Jane, Edward, and Gifford were standing just off the worn path that ran around the ruins. The keep lifted high above them, blocking the worst of the sun’s glare and casting heavy shadows over the piles of fallen stone and the thick green grass. Gran stood opposite them, while Gracie circled the group with a stern expression on her face, her arms crossed over her chest.

Jane had a headache.

“Be honest with yourself,” continued Gran. “If, in the moment you want to change, you do not know why you want to become a bird or ferret or horse—”

Gifford snorted. He was a horse already.

“—or human, then you will stay exactly as you are.”

“What about curses?” Jane asked.

“What about curses?” A pungent, garbage odor slipped into the air, making Jane cough at the sour taste in the back of her throat. Gran had never been very patient, and the more annoyed she became, the worse she smelled.

“How are we supposed to control our changes if we’re cursed?”

“What makes you think you’re cursed?”

“Gifford spends his days as a horse and his nights as a man. Every day, without fail, he changes.” Jane used to blame him for his struggles. She’d thought of him as undisciplined. Now she had a bit more sympathy. “And, for the time being, anyway, I spend my nights as a ferret.”

At least she had every night since the Tower. The sun went down, and flash—Jane was a ferret, whether she wanted to change or not. It was a problem. The first step, she thought, was admitting it.

“That’s why we’re here.” Gran’s odor grew stronger. “Because you lot need to learn to control yourselves.”

“Isn’t the point of a curse that it can’t be controlled?” Jane gestured toward Gifford, who’d bent his head to nip at the grass. “We need to break the curses first, and then learn how to control the change.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Edward said. “Good thinking, Janey.”

“That sounds stupid, if you ask me,” Gracie said, staring flatly at Jane. “You’re not cursed. You’re just stubborn.”

“Gracie’s right.” Gran let out an aggravated sigh. “You’re not cursed. There’s something in you making you want to change when you do.”

“Well, changing because of the position of the sun definitely sounds like a curse to me,” Jane argued.