Enru waited until Bronwyn was fast asleep before he leapt lightly off her bed, padding toward the kitchen where he knew Bèatrix waited for his report. And, he reflected, my dressing-down. I seriously screwed up this time…
Sure enough, Yldan was waiting, perched above the fireplace. Bèatrix sat before the fire, smoking her pipe reflectively. The owl ruffled his feathers to acknowledge the cat’s entrance, but Bèatrix didn’t say anything for a long minute, her eyes fixed on the leaping flames.
“She doesn’t remember her life before her Introduction,” she said finally, her words weighted. “Whatever happened to erase her memory?”
Enru sat on his haunches, wrapping his tail around his back paws. His ears flicked back, and he ducked his head. She almost did not survive the process, he said. She was so small, so frail…It took nearly all my own life-force to keep her alive, in this realm of existence, just until the completion.
“And you had no assistance? Why did you not come here?” Bèatrix finally fixed the cat with one of her Stares.
Enru hung his head further. She is not of your province, Bèatrix. She came from the West, in the mountains. A small valley, fertile enough to support a village, but totally isolated. It was where her father chose to take her mother.
And who was her father? Yldan murmured, stretching his wing.
His name is Deryan. His familiar was a cougar.
Bèatrix sucked in a breath; Deryan was a very powerful Sorcerer, one who had disappeared nearly twenty years ago. He’d stopped coming to Councils, and concealed his Abilities so that they could not be tracked. The Council, including Bèatrix, had thought he had died somehow, because his familiar’s corpse had been found. A beautiful feline, powerful and sleek and sinewy with muscle, her half-eaten body had been found by its magical signature with its throat slit. They never found Deryan’s body.
He killed Nadua? Grief and sorrow colored the owl’s voice. She was so beautiful…
“To kill your familiar is to renounce the Path of Sorcery,” said Bèatrix solemnly. “Is Deryan alive still?”
I do not know. I took Bronwyn from him when she was still very small. I couldn’t risk my own life; I couldn’t risk her becoming him. Enru’s voice broke. I think her mother knew that her familiar would be feline; she was terrified of cats, and wouldn’t have any even in the barn.
“And so that is why her training has been so haphazard?” asked Bèatrix. Enru flattened his head in humiliation again.
Forgive me, Bèatrix, but it took some time before I could lead her to Appleby Manor, and even there, as you saw, her power keeps bursting through. It isn’t consistent, so her training hasn’t been consistent.
“We’ll have to work on that, now won’t we?” said Bèatrix grimly.
After three days Bronwyn was able to walk to the kitchen to take her meals, and go for short strolls in the yard. She tired quickly, though, and Enru was very firm when he ordered her back to bed.
This was incredibly frustrating for Bronwyn, because it seemed any time she got near where Tristan was caring for the horses, or feeding the chickens, or milking the cow, or chopping firewood, Enru decided it was time to go back inside.
Once, though, she managed to slip away without her cat hounding her heels. She made sure her hair was only partially plaited, the waves spilling over her shoulders, glistening with dark red highlights in the high summer sun. She meandered over to the horse paddock, patting the old grey mares, offering them a few apples.
“You have a way with the animals,” commented Tristan. Bronwyn spun and smiled self-consciously, dropping her last apple. “Like Bèatrix.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’m nowhere near as good,” demurred Bronwyn, but her heart was pounding at his praise. She peeked at him through her eyelashes, and he was smiling gently at her. She turned a little, conscious of how her skirt swished around her knees, and how his eyes glanced at her bare legs appreciatively. “What are you doing today?” she asked.
“Not much. Most of my chores are done for the day, and I saw you here talking to Naden and Trylla,” he said, gesturing toward the mares, who were both whickering at him. “So I decided to say hello. I haven’t seen much of you since…” He fumbled for the words.
“Since I nearly killed myself out of sheer stupidity?” asked Bronwyn, but she was smiling as she said it. “Enru’s been on my heels since. I haven’t had a moment’s peace!”
Tristan looked uncomfortable for a second as he said, “I’m sure he’s just worried about you. You know, making sure you don’t find a sparrow with a broken wing and try to save its life.” She chuckled.
“What if I were to saddle Trylla and my gelding and we went on a ride?” asked Tristan suddenly.
Bronwyn felt a wave of shyness roll over her, but she boldly accepted. “I think I would like that very much,” she said. “Let me go get my riding boots and my cloak.”
“Surely you don’t need your cloak. It’s such a beautiful day, and I won’t have you long.” He winced, knowing that if Enru had caught that slip of the tongue the cat would have his head. And his balls.
But Bronwyn didn’t catch it; either she was too engrossed in the concept of riding alone with Tristan, or she was too naïve to understand the innuendo. Probably both.
Bronwyn managed to elude Enru and Bèatrix both for long enough to slip in and out of the house and retrieve her riding boots. She rounded the corner of the barn and there was Tristan, Trylla saddled and waiting patiently next to his spirited gelding, Jethro. Tristan assisted her into the saddle and then mounted himself, leading the way to a path that wound into the woods at the northern edge of the property.
Before long, the pair were deep in the forest, following a trail that was barely there, and Bronwyn looked about. The woods seemed almost eerie; she’d never wandered this far away from the safety of Bèatrix’s home.
“Where are we going?” she asked, but Tristan merely turned in the saddle and threw her a grin.
“It’s a secret. It’s my own place that not even Yldan will really go. He doesn’t like the noise, he says.” They trotted on for several hours, the miles passing beneath the horses’ hooves easily.
Just when she was going to suggest a break, they broke through the treeline into a great field, strewn quite liberally with wildflowers of all types, their blossoms bobbing ponderously in the breeze. As they moved across the grass, Bronwyn became aware of a great thrumming, a deep buzz that she felt in her chest.
Tristan led her to a small cottage, in front of which was a number of wooden boxes. There was what appeared to be a black cloud swarming around the boxes, and they had nearly come upon the cottage when Bronwyn realized what they were.
Bees.
“A beekeeper?” she asked wonderingly. Tristan didn’t seem the type.
“The preferred term is apiarist, but yes, I keep bees. I collect their honey and wax for Bèatrix, and these wildflowers are mixed with wild herbs, so I can help keep her stores supplied.”
“Do you live here?” asked Bronwyn, gesturing at the cottage.
“Yes, I do.” Tristan dismounted and led Jethro and Trylla to the hitching post. “Would you like to see inside?” he offered, rather shyly.
“Oh, yes!” said Bronwyn, sliding off Trylla before he could assist her. She felt an inquiring tug in her mind, but ignored it. It was Enru, trying to find her, and she wasn’t going to help him, not now, anyway. Maybe later.
Tristan led Bronwyn inside. There was a large central room, with just one door leading to the bedroom. She sat at the table at his insistence while he began making preparations for tea.
The kitchen was small and neat; a fireplace stood against the shared wall between the two rooms, and a wooden table, smaller than Bèatrix’s, stood in the center. There were shelves with some earthenware mugs and plates arranged carefully on their surfaces, and some decorative tiles were propped along the mantel.
It was a fairly bare room, but it was clear it was tidy and well-kept. Bronwyn accepted the mug of tea from Tristan and sipped it carefully, suddenly extremely self-conscious.
“So how do you protect yourself from the bee stingers? Do you use your Ability?” she asked, trying o find a topic of discussion.
Tristan laughed. “No, that would take entirely too much energy. I use woodsmoke to make them sleepy, and I have a special suit to protect me so they don’t crawl in my clothes.” He began chattering about his bees while Bronwyn surreptitiously watched him.
It was the first real opportunity she’d had to study the young man, and she took full advantage now. His skin was pale, like hers; his eyes dark liquid brown, sometimes gold, and his hair was dark like hers. His hands, his whole body, was long and slender, yet strong. He had the general aura of a powerful feline, relaxed for now, but ready to spring and kill in an instant.
Tristan had fallen quiet, watching Bronwyn watch him. She didn’t realize for several moments that they were staring at each other, and when she did, she flushed and looked away.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You must think me terribly rude.”
“No,” said Tristan softly, surprising her. “I think you’re beautiful.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but now it was out, it felt right. “Around Enru and Bèatrix you’re very self-controlled, as though you’re trying to impress them. Here, you’re just…you.” He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving her face.
“Do-do you like what you see?” whispered Bronwyn, unable to look at him.
He reached across the narrow table and touched her chin, the swiftest of contacts, but it went through her like an electric jolt. “I like it very much.” She met his eyes, then, and they leaned toward each other.
What in the name of all that is sacred are you doing here? Enru’s voice was outraged, and out of breath. The two humans sprang apart; Tristan stood and walked a few paces away, trying to catch his breath.
“Enru!” groaned Bronwyn, thoroughly irritated. “I might ask you the same thing!”
You are not well enough to be traipsing all over the Province, Bronwyn. I am lucky that Yldan saw Trylla hitched outside, else I might never have found you. I certainly would never have looked for you here, Enru said nastily.
“Well, you can just go back on home, then, can’t you. Now you’ve found me, you can unfind me.”
No, Bronwyn. You need to come home. Bronwyn’s face burned. She felt like an errant child in the face of Enru’s scolding, and she hated it.
“For gods’ sake, Enru, I am seventeen years old! I am a woman by anyone’s standards, and I will not take orders from a thrice-damned cat!”
Enru was quiet; Bronwyn closed her mouth. She knew she had gone too far; she knew that Enru had her best interests at heart. Yes Mistress, he said meekly, slinking out of the room.
Bronwyn sat in silent surprise. Enru had never given in so easily, and it made her suspicious now.
“You had better go home and tend to his ego,” said Tristan after a moment. “That one is prideful and you shamed him in front of his sworn archenemy.” He chuckled, reaching into a cabinet and withdrawing a handful of onions. “Would you like to stay for a moment and eat first?”
Bronwyn couldn’t answer; her stomach growled loudly before she could open her mouth. She giggled, blushing a little. Tristan laughed aloud. “I’ll have you fed quickly, and there are swifter ways back to Bèatrix’s than the one we took.” He pulled a copper-bottomed skillet from a shelf above the potbellied stove and a knife from the butcher block. A pat of butter was thrown into the skillet, melting as it heated as he began to slice the onions very thinly.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” said Bronwyn in surprise. Tristan nodded, throwing the onions in the skillet as he sliced. “I thought you came to Bèatrix’s for every meal because you couldn’t.”
“I don’t come to Bèatrix’s for every meal.” Tristan turned and frowned. “I come for dinner, yes, but none of the others.”
Bronwyn shook her head. “I see you every morning,” she said with half a smile, puzzled. “And usually for lunch. We all sit at the table and…” But Tristan was shaking his head. “I rarely come to Bèatrix’s for lunch, and never for breakfast. I’m not up that early.”
“Then who is it who comes to breakfast and lunch? You’re not very talkative; I’ve always assumed you were thinking about your…duties…” Bronwyn trailed off, utterly confused.
“I’ll bet that it’s Yldan. In construct.” Bronwyn narrowed her eyes, thinking.
“Why in the world would she have you around more than you actually are? If anything, you would think she’d be like Enru and discourage any relationship between us.” She bit her lip.
“I don’t know, honestly, and I don’t much care. But now that we know about it, we should…mess with her a little.” Tristan raised an eyebrow, turning back to the stove and poking at the onions, grabbing the handle of the pan and flipping them around a bit.
“What did you have in mind?” asked Bronwyn, a wicked gleam in her eye.
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