His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I did. I have. You.”
Her young heart beat like a swallow’s wings, this time from excitement instead of fear. She looked forward to the next four years. She held out a hand. “Thank you again, Sir Velus. You saved me.”
He clasped her fingers with his. She felt the ridge of calluses on his palm that marked where he held a sword. “It was my pleasure, Lady Uhlfrida.” He bowed over her hand, his warm breath skating across her knuckles. He straightened, gifting her once more with one of those measuring stares. His hard face was somber. “Maybe during my stay in your father’s house, I will teach you how to save yourself.”
She returned his bow of farewell and watched as he strode down the corridor that led to the courtyards, wishing she could follow and admire the falling snow as it blanketed the buildings and garden statuary. Instead, she hurried in the direction Evaline and her toadies took, toward the great hall where the evening feast waited for King Rodan and his bevy of nobles.
2
The Maiden intrigued
Supper was the dull, interminable thing she expected it to be, a shallow pageantry of aristocrats doing their best to outshine each other either in their clothing and jewels or boasts regarding the size of their estates, the quality of their horseflesh or the fertility of their loins. Jahna ignored the predictable scrutiny of others and did her best to eavesdrop, without being obvious, on the conversation among her brother, her father, and the Ilinfan swordmaster.
Sir Velus had joined them shortly after supper began, his attempt at slipping unnoticed into his seat foiled by her brother’s loud and enthusiastic “Sir Velus, come join us!” combined with the equally loud and complimentary “Such beautiful hair!” from a drunken noblewoman further down the table from where Jahna’s family sat. For a change, all eyes weren’t on her, and Jahna didn’t know whether to be relieved for her sake or feel sorry for Sir Velus’s.
He seemed unfazed by the attention, his focus first on her father and then on Sodrin. Only after a round of greetings exchanged with him, did he turn to her and offer both a bow and a tiny wink only she could see.
The heat of a blush crept up her neck and face, and she ducked her head, suddenly shy in his presence. Her earlier ease in speaking with him had vanished, a distant memory in the face of her current tongue-tied state. She spent the remainder of supper sipping wine and listening as he and her father discussed Sodrin’s lessons, and Sodrin fired off questions as fast and numerous as a barrage of arrows.
Once the supper ended, and the various diners broke into smaller groups to either gossip, curry favor, or destroy reputations, Jahna edged her way toward the room’s perimeter and the promised freedom beyond the tall, ornate doors flanked by guards. Her father had left her to her own devices, and she had refused her brother’s offer to keep her company.
“Enjoy,” she said, catching the way his gaze swept the hall, settling on one pretty nobleman’s daughter before moving to another. He was a high-ranking aristocrat’s son and of an age where courtship was not only natural, it was expected. Sodrin didn’t need her clinging to his arm should he try his hand at a little clumsy wooing.
She almost made it to the doors without incident when Dame Stalt stepped neatly in front of her and blocked her path. The urge to curse her bad timing battled with her delight that the revered headwoman of the Archives sought her out.
As if by some unspoken magic, the crowd thinned away, leaving a wide circumference of empty space around them. The dame looked more formidable than any warrior queen in her severe-cut gown. She stared down her nose at Jahna, who gave a hasty bow before clasping her hands behind her back to hide the fact she was wringing them bloodless from nervousness.
“I received your scrolls,” Dame Stalt announced, and Jahna’s heart plummeted to her feet at the grim tone in the other woman’s voice. “You lack structure and need proper training, but the account you sent me is thorough, detailed, and avoids useless fancy.”
Almost light-headed with relief at the sharp-edged compliment, Jahna gave another quick bow. “I’m so glad, madam. I enjoyed recording the stories the grandfathers and grandmothers of Osobaris told me.”
The village of Osobaris perched inside lands owned by Jahna’s father. A nondescript community made so by its lack of significant trade goods or strategic importance, it nonetheless possessed the distinction of being a gateway from which the first of the Elder races, the ancient Gullperi, abandoned this realm, leaving behind only remnants of their power in lonely tors, sacred circles and timeless forests.
Dame Stalt’s gaze was even more piercing than that of Radimar Velus. “You did a fine job of recording what they said without succumbing to the more fanciful aspects of storytelling. I think you would do well as an apprentice at the Archives if you’re interested.”
Jahna swayed on her feet before catching hold of her shock and wrestling it into submission. Gods forbid she do something stupid such as faint in front of the dame, especially when the news was this wondrous. She measured her words and prayed she didn’t screech or babble. “Oh yes, my lady. I’m very interested. Though I don’t know if my father would be willing to release me to apprentice with the Archives.”
She hadn’t expected such an offer from Dame Stalt. Her hope in sending the manuscript to her for review had been that the dame would look it over and perhaps consider her for apprenticeship as an amanuensis with possible promotion to first tier king’s chronicler after a few years. This was far better than she ever imagined.
If only she could get her father to agree to it.
Dame Stalt waved a languid hand in the air, as if approval from Jahna’s father was a minor and unimportant thing. “Let me speak with Uhlfrida tomorrow. I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement that would satisfy everyone.”
She bid Jahna a short good night and plunged into the throng of dancers and observers, her decisive strides toward the king’s dais at the far end of the room clearing the path as if she wielded lightning strikes to push people out of her way.
Jahna envied her that particular talent and wished she might be able to employ the same as she tried for a second time to reach the main doors. She wanted to race outside, kick up snow drifts and laugh with joy under the winter moon. Her euphoria over Dame Stalt’s offer wasn’t dimmed by yet another interruption, this one even more welcomed than the dame’s had been.