So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)

“I’m not offended,” she assured the boy and patted him on the shoulder. “I really don’t know the man.” And if it was true that he’d killed her younger brother, then he deserved something worse than a bad epitaph. But she had to wonder what sort of grudge Rupert could have against the Tourinian king.

“I’ll go ask the captain about the needle and thread,” Jeffrey said, then scampered down the passageway and up the stairs.

Brigitta shut the door and gave Sister Fallyn a speculative look. “Ye grew up in Tourin. What can ye tell me about my family?”

The nun grew pale, then suddenly moved to the sideboard to refill the goblets. “Ye should come and eat. Ye need to keep yer strength up.”

Brigitta frowned as she dragged the fallen chair back to the table. Why was Sister Fallyn dodging her question? “Do ye not like to talk about Tourin?”

The nun plunked the two goblets on the table. “Nothing good has ever come from that place.”

“We did.” Brigitta sat at the table.

The nun smiled as she took a seat. “Aye. That’s true. Perhaps I should say no good man has ever come from there.” Her smiled faded. “Except one.”

“Who was that?”

Sister Fallyn didn’t answer, only frowned as she ran a fingertip around the edge of her goblet.

A strong surge of curiosity swept through Brigitta. She ignored it the best she could while she nibbled on a piece of cheese. It had always been this way for her. She could sense hidden or lost things, and once she did, she felt driven to uncover them.

The odd gift had been considered a blessing at the convent when one of the nuns misplaced an item and needed it back. Brigitta had always been able to find lost things.

But she’d discovered several years ago that her gift was not appreciated when a nun was hiding something in her mind. People didn’t like having their secrets revealed. Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t do much to curb Brigitta’s curiosity once it was aroused. She still felt driven to uncover secrets.

And of all the people she had ever touched, no one harbored more secrets than Rupert.

She took a sip of wine and pushed the infamous pirate from her thoughts. It was much safer to turn her insatiable curiosity toward Sister Fallyn. “Ye’ve been at the convent ever since I can remember.”

The nun gave her a wry look. “Then yer memory is poor. Ye were seven when I arrived.”

“So ye’ve been there twelve years.”

“Aye.” Sister Fallyn’s eyes grew misty as a mournful expression stole over her face. “I was seventeen when I came. Poor and brokenhearted. I thought my life was over.”

“Why? Can ye tell me what happened?”

Sister Fallyn reached for the small loaf of bread and tore it in half. “Did ye know my father was a baker?”

“Nay.” Brigitta passed her the knife and crock of butter. “No wonder ye bake so well. Everyone at home loves yer bread.”

The nun grimaced as she examined the loaf. “This is at least two days old.”

“I suppose it’s hard for pirates to get fresh bread.”

Sister Fallyn sighed. “My father wanted me to marry another baker. They planned to consolidate their businesses and have the biggest bakery in Lourdon.”

Brigitta wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound very romantic.”

“The baker was much older than me self. I didn’t want to marry him. Especially when I…”

“What?”

Sister Fallyn blushed. “I was in love with Kennet, the butcher’s son down the street.”

“Yes!” Brigitta grinned. “Now, that’s romantic.”

The nun gave her a dubious look. “This is not one of yer overly dramatic stories where falling in love is all rosy and magical. My father threatened to kill Kennet.”

Brigitta winced. “So ye married the old baker?”

“Nay.” Sister Fallyn’s eyes glistened with tears. “I was young and reckless. Kennet and I ran away.”

“Ye eloped?”

“Aye, we went to a port on the coast and married there.”

Brigitta clasped her hands together. “How exciting!”

Sister Fallyn shook her head. “We had only a week together before the ruffians my father had hired found us. Poor Kennet. He tried to fight them off, but there were five of them.”

“Oh, no.” Brigitta’s heart sank.

“He told me to run while he fended them off. We were supposed to take a boat to the Isle of Moon in the morning, so I waited for himself at the dock.” A tear rolled down Sister Fallyn’s cheek. “He never made it.”

“I’m so sorry.” Brigitta reached over to squeeze the nun’s hand.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to my father, not after what he did to my poor Kennet, so I went to the Isle of Moon by me self.”

“Ye rescued yerself.” Brigitta gave her hand another squeeze. “Ye’re much stronger then ye think.”

Sister Fallyn shook her head. “It’s taken me years to stop blaming me self for Kennet’s death.” She wiped her cheek. “I’m not looking forward to going back to Tourin.”

Brigitta winced. “I don’t want to go, either. I suppose Rupert plans to hand us over to my brother, Gunther.”

“Aye, in exchange for a hefty amount of gold, no doubt.” Sister Fallyn sighed as she slathered butter on her bread. “There are no good men in Tourin.”

“Except Kennet.”

“Aye, but he’s gone.” The nun gave Brigitta a stern look. “Ye must be careful with yer heart, lass. Love is a powerful force, and once it’s taken ye over, it can cause ye to do all sorts of things ye ne’er imagined.”

Brigitta’s eyes widened. “Exciting things?”

“Terrible things. Tragic mistakes that can cost someone’s life. ’Tis not like the overly dramatic stories ye write. Ye’re not guaranteed a happy ending.”

Brigitta swallowed hard. “I understand.” She already suspected her concept of a dashing young hero was sadly flawed. Why else would she even entertain the notion that the infamous Rupert could be her tall and handsome stranger?

She shoved him from her thoughts once again. “What can ye tell me about Tourin? Ye must know quite a bit, since ye grew up in the capital.”

Sister Fallyn shook her head. “Lourdon wasn’t always the capital. Many years ago, the capital was up north in the Highlands, and the House of Trepurin ruled the country.”

“Isn’t that where the gold is mined?” Brigitta asked. “The mountains in the north?”

“Aye. The gold was discovered four hundred years ago by Lord Aelfrid Trepurin, who used his newfound wealth to become the first king of Tourin. He spread the wealth among the Highland clans, so they were always loyal. Fierce warriors, too. Whenever the nobles in the south rebelled, they were crushed.”

Brigitta nodded. “I remember from my studies that the country was constantly plagued with civil war.”

“Aye.” Sister Fallyn grimaced. “The problem was the gold. The northern nobles had it, and southern ones wanted it. Together, they made life miserable for the common folk. They were always taking our healthy young men to fight their battles for them. And every time the south lost, there would be towns burned and lives destroyed.” She shuddered. “It was dreadful.”

“But wasn’t my father from the south? How did he become king?”