August 1369 AD

Anne was quietly humming a vague little tune as we gathered herbs in companionable silence. The forest around us was entering a new phase: I marveled as the Autumn sun inflamed the canopy with a riot of stunning reds, golds, browns and orange hues. The trees had already began to yield their foliage to the floor below; it was littered with the spongy layer of freshly molted leaves and none more beautiful than the deep crimson of the bloodbirch. This was the Redweld forest in all it's riotous glory.

This was the Autumn of my sixteenth year.

"Aria, what about this one?" Anne pointed a dainty finger over toward a bush with sphere-like blowballs that looked almost like a series of lavender dandelion heads on each stalk. I followed her towards the pretty herb. She brought her shears out and began cutting a few stalks for her basket.

"Can you name it?" She eyed me expectantly as I brought a purple floret to my nose and inhaled deeply.

I shook my head.

"It smells like spearmint, but I don't think I recall what it's called."

"Pennyroyal. It's a potent abortifacient. It can be made into a special tea for those who like to partake in the hedonistic pleasures of the flesh...but do not care for the consequences." I might have replied, but she continued matter of factly. "This, you will never need, Aria." And the subject was dropped. But not before she quietly muttered in a low aside, "Not that it would affect you..."

We continued our walk and she pointed out a few more herbs for me to identify.

"Coughwart. It's an anti inflammatory and treats cough, fever and head agues," I recited.

Anne nodded with a smile and gestured toward a daisy-like plant.

"Chamomile," I said proudly, "used to treat colic, flatulence and to calm nerves."

"Just so." she beamed happily.

At length we turned around, our escort doing the same, and began to move back into Nørrdragor's direction. Anne did not often have us walk this way, so when I spotted that old overgrown pathway — the one I had watched the beshackled men being lead onto — I stopped to ponder its direction. What lies yonder, I mused.

Anne, frowning as she noticed which way my attention was bent, drew alongside me, weaving her arm into the crook of my elbow.

"There is nothing for you there," she murmured. "Only wolves and goblins have dominion over this part of the forest."

I narrowed my gaze. She is lying. I had not heard a single wolf call to another in all the years I had been in the north. It was one of the oddities about my home that had never sat well with me — the unnatural quiet of the forest.

"By the by, Godwin informed me this morning that he expects Lucian and Caine any day between now and Michaelmas."

I stopped mid-stride and squeezed my eyes shut in agitation, her words effectively distracting me anew.

Within the month?! Things have been so wonderful! Why must he come home now!

My thoughts were in a tumult and my face must have betrayed me, for when Anne remained quiet I looked up to see her frowning.

"I cannot change the course of your future, my dear, nor do I wish to. You will marry Lucian as per Godwin's decree; your reluctance notwithstanding."

I acknowledged her words with a tight smile, but held my tongue.

"My son has put this union off long enough and Godwin is non too pleased."

In sooth, I hadn't noticed. I hardly spoke to Godwin and he usually looked aloof and unflappable when I did see him.

"And Godwin is unsure of exactly when Lucian arrives?" I bit my lip.

"He is too unpredictable, I'm afraid. I don't know what that boy will do from one moment to the next. I do know that Caine accompanies him. He, Caine I mean, was knighted earlier this year and his uncle has released the pair of them from service...for now" She seemed to glow with maternal pride as she continued talking about her sons and I listened with half an ear, but pulled my head from the clouds when I felt Anne lay a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Decrees and responsibility aside, Aria, I long to call you daughter in truth. Do you not know how much I've come to love you?" I dropped my basket and moved into her outstretched arms. "As if you too were a child of my own flesh!" She held me tight a moment longer and then kissed my forehead before grabbing my chin to wiggle it playfully.

"It's getting late. We had better head back." She was right. The daylight hours were dwindling more each day.

"I love you too, Anne!" I had never said as much to anyone except perhaps Mildred, my old nurse, but I truly loved Anne; as if she were my own mother. It was only rotten luck that it should be conditional upon my marrying her wretched son.



❅



The day of Lucian's arrival came all too soon and without warning — as Anne had forecasted that day in the forest.

The prodigal son is unpredictable indeed. Godwin would by now indeed be wroth, for Michaelmas had long since come and gone; and Lucian was late.

It was now October: three days until the Blood moon. The harvest had ended and the wheat and the rye had already been sown.

"You'll want to harvest grapes for wine-making as close to the full moon as possible," Anne instructed as she stretched her back.

I was helping her plant roots in the little garden while she chatted about the lunar influence and how it pertained to the running of the manor.

"So too must we gather herbs for the essential oils; ere the moon begins to wane." She was now hacking at the soil with her little gardening tool the while she instructed me on her favorite subject.

"Castrate and dehorn an animal when the moon is waning: there is less bleeding that way. Howbeit, slaughtering a beast should always be done during a waxing moon for it yields juicier meat. In a few days, when the moon passes into the waning phase again, we shall come out here to harvest the apples, the flowers, the seeds, and the cabbages."

"What about the leaves and bark you need for your medicinal teas?" I reminded her.

Anne looked up at me in appreciation and winked. "I see you have been paying attention! Very good, Aria."

She got up, stowed her tools in her basket and wiped her hands off on her old, gardening cotehardie which was still of a better condition and a far more superior quality than most villeins could ever dream of affording.

"You can finish up here, my dear, I must speak to the cook about supper." We swapped positions: I to kneel in the herb garden and she to watch a short while before nodding her approval and hieing off to the kitchens to confer with the surly cook — a cantankerous old man, to be sure, but yet no match for my mother-to-be.

However, I was not so elegant as she for I seemed to get mud all over my face and neck. Very soon my nails were caked with dirt and my gown, granted it was an old one, was spoiled to the point where I knew I could no longer wear it as anything but a gardening smock.

I heard laughing behind me and spun my head around to impale the offender with my worst glare. It was Thomas come to rile me again, as was his habit of late.

"You do make quite a pretty, little gnome, Aria. You look decidedly wild with all that mud smeared across your face!" He moved to kneel down beside me which he should not have done; and he might not have...if he'd known me at all as well as he should have.

"Why Thomas, I believe you've got a little something on your face..." I was feeling rather perverse and smiled a little wickedly as I swiped my bespattered hand across his cheek; 'twas now properly muddied.

"God's blisters, woman! I just bathed!"

He scrambled back in annoyance. I placed my index finger over my mouth thoughtfully and then, as if reaching a decision, I nodded my head sagaciously.

"There now! A vast improvement to your features, I dare say!" I burst into laughter, but it was short lived for Thomas was quick to retaliate.

"Hungry, per chance?" he asked, as he gathered up a heaping handful of muck. "Here! I made you a delicious mud pie, my lady!"

With that said he chucked it at me with an impish gleam in his eyes. I screeched as the mud ball hit me square in the chest.

Splat!

The little twit had unknowingly declared a mud war and within moments I had him so befouled with dirt and sludge that his own mother would not have recognized him. My own condition was by no means any better. I finally called a truce and we continued chuckling like loons.

"Oh, this should be good," came a familiar drawling voice.

Thomas and I turned sharply to look at this new arrival into our midst. Except ... it was more than merely one new arrival. Carac stood leaning against an apple tree, shaking his head with an eager smile.

Anne and a group of five tall men had stepped into view, Lucian and Caine among them. Thomas and I gaped at our audience: he with a bashful smile and I with abject misery.

"That's what I initially came out here to tell you about, Aria: Lucian is here," Thomas whispered.

"I can see that, you slack-witted dolt!" I seethed under my breath.

I was furious at Thomas, and no mistake! For my part though, I remained outwardly calm as I met those eerie amber eyes for the first time in six years.

I tried to swallow, but my mouth had become dry as sun-parched rock. The grim man I had now locked eyes with was unmistakably Lucian: he had changed little except that he'd filled out so much more.

Gone was the leanness and softness of youth; here stood the solid angles and planes of a man fully grown. A man I recognized instantly and yet...he was a completely enigmatic stranger to me. I had nothing to say to him. I had not the presence of mind even to utter a greeting, although I did manage a sort of embarrassed squeak. Thomas turned a questioning glance at the sound that shriveled in my throat; his expression almost laughable. Almost. Fortunately — or unfortunately — it was Caine who spoke first.

"So this is the little urchin we left behind six years ago, aye Lucian?" Caine's eyes were crinkled with mirth.

Supercilious bastard. My brows drew together. He was once again reminded of how vexing I found his company.

The younger man was almost an exact replica of his brother. They might have been twins were it not for the stark difference in the color of their eyes. Caine's eyes were an uncanny replication of Godwin's: bizarrely pale and frighteningly blue as though he had the power to freeze your heart from your breast.

Lucian's were the polar opposite. His unholy, glowing irises were of the most unnatural amber; almost yellow when the light hit them just so. I sensed a latent rage reflected within his shuttered and disinterested regard and yet diametrically there was a coldness there too; which so much resembled his father. He seemed at once to cool and, conversely, to scorch me with his scrutiny.

Another difference between the brothers was that Caine was an inch or so shorter and still retained an element of youth...boyish charm, I think. Though, from his opening comment, I doubted that charm was the right word to add to his attributes. Arrogance perhaps. That was it!

"A mud dwelling imp, brother, I'm sure of it!" Caine laughed at my expense and I pushed the stringy hair from my face self-consciously.

"So 'twould seem," Lucian's lips compressed in distaste as Caine sniggered loudly, thereby earning himself two icy glares: one from Anne and one from me.

I had forgotten what Lucian's voice sounded like and had flinched imperceptibly at his words. He now eyed me with a smirk, the while Carac and Caine let loose their mirth into the garden, and then dismissed me completely by leaving the garden as soundlessly as he'd entered.

No, I sighed, nothing has changed at all! You're still an obnoxious boor.

Inwardly I fumed, but outwardly I maintained what little dignity I yet possessed and held my tongue.

"Fie, you lot! I know what beauty lies beneath that filth. Come on, Aria!" Anne quickly jumped to my defense. Bless her! She grabbed my mud-encrusted elbow and marched me up to my chamber in high dudgeon.

"Have an extra tub sent for and enough water to fill both, Astrid. There's a good lass," She commanded and Astrid rushed out forthwith to do the mistresses bidding. "You'll need two thorough scrubbings, my girl," Anne tsked. She helped me out of my completely ruined gown, yanking and tearing it carelessly as I flinched. "That Thomas is going to get his ears blistered the next time I see his blasted face!"

"You and I both!" I ground my teeth throughout the whole bathing ordeal.

Forsooth, not a single inch of me remained untouched and by the end of it I might have happily murdered Thomas, Caine and Carac altogether had they been within arms reach of my foul temper; as well as Lucian! Why not ... he too belonged to that odious gender.



❆



"There now! Absolutely beautiful," Anne sighed happily.

She beheld me with such a look of awe that I scarce knew what to say, but upon noticing how I bit my lip in a dubious manner she lost her smile and raised her brow askance at me.

"You don't believe me?"

"Even if you put a silk bow on a sow's ear...it nevertheless remains a pig's ear!" I knew exactly what I looked like. I had no delusions on that score. Had I not been called all manner of vile names as a young girl?

"Nonsense! Come with me." Anna betook me to her own chamber, which was as lavishly furnished as I imagined the Queen's own rooms to be, and stood me in front of a large gilded mirror that hung against the wall by her massive bed.

The red and gold patterns that decorated her chamber was the same theme apparent throughout the rest of the castle. The Greyback colors.

"Look there," Anne urged me succinctly. "I am sick to death of your self-deprecating nature." I cared nary a whit for mirrors and was a bit peeved that this was what she'd brought me all the way to see. "Stop staring at your slippers, girl, you'll not find the answers there. Now look!"

I lifted my head obediently and studied the girl in the looking glass.

How curious...

Surely this was not me? I was clumsy, bony and sallow; was I not? However, the girl in the glass looked like none of those things: she was tall and statuesque.

Her hair was neither dull nor merely black, but a lustrously glossy, iridescent hue that seemed to catch a hint of blue in the candlelight and contrasted starkly with her pale features and carmine lips. She looked like a woman, not a girl. I stared into her eyes, thoroughly intrigued. They were large and gleamed like dark, crystalline pools of green.

I frowned and watched as my reflection did the same. It was me. I had never thought to really notice my reflection in whatever glazing or water I may have caught it. Mildred had always condemned vanity in any form.

Anne had dressed me in the Greyback colors tonight; the better to impress Lucian, I supposed. My hair streamed down the length of my spine in a single heavy braid, demurely hiding my ears, into which Astrid had sprigged yellow honeysuckle blossoms as well as golden, gossamer thread that she interlaced between my locks.

My kirtle was a golden silk that was visible at my décolletage and at the bottom of my low-cut, snug-fitting burgundy gown that was laced up the back. I was tall for a woman, but the gown had been made specifically with me in mind. It trailed along fashionably on the floor behind me so that you could barely see my elegant red slippers.

"I see I've made my point," Anne said with self-approbation. "You are a woman now and can hold your own amidst the men of this house. Trust in your own power, my girl. But come now, we are late to supper." She was practically purring her contentment; her grin positively cat-like and smug.



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