Chapter 12
Jordan was a prisoner. No one would let him out of their sights longer than it took him to use a garderobe. His sister, Fay, Tristan, and even Batty gave him dirty looks at every opportunity. Amazingly, the only people who were being the least bit kind to him were Leo and Marjorie. Not that they were going out of their way or anything. They just spared him the filthy looks and eye rolls.
Everyone was on edge because of the attack. It had apparently been a very close call. No one from the castle or Lord Drayton’s party had been killed but there were a few serious injuries. Seeing the moaning men getting cleaned and stitched in the great hall made Jordan glad Sophie had pitched her fit that had let him avoid the carnage.
No one knew who had attacked them. They had come in, wreaked havoc, and then disappeared like ghosts. Several knights had chased them across the countryside but had lost their trail. The men seemed to believe they may have actually been ghosts, insisting their trail had just stopped. They’d searched the nearby houses, but not a hoof mark or boot print could be found out of place.
“They weren’t ghosts,” Tristan repeated, rubbing his arm that had been slashed nearly clean through. Or so it had looked to Jordan when they first brought him in from the battle. The knight didn’t seem overly bothered by it.
Fay gently took his hand away from his bandage so he wouldn’t accidentally scratch his stitches out. “Do you think it was the same group that’s been plaguing Dernier the last few times?”
From what Jordan could make out from his forced listening sessions, a group of marauders had been attacking Dernier Keep at the beginning of each “curse cycle” as they had taken to calling it. This time was different. Grancourt Castle had been attacked. But the marauders’ modus operandi remained the same. Get in, create havoc, disappear.
“I admit I thought you were being paranoid last time,” Leo said. “But now I also believe someone is helping them. Someone of power, or a large group.”
“I still don’t believe anyone around here would betray Father,” Fay said.
Since she’d been there the longest of any of them, she was the most ingrained in believing she was really part of castle life, as if she’d grown up there and actually knew the villagers and surrounding landowners. Sophie set her right, saying it could be anyone and they needed to keep an open mind.
“And you really need to speak to Sir Walter,” Sophie said, nudging Leo. “The last time Lord Drayton came, he proposed to Anne, remember? We need to stake our claim first or we’ll have to delay the wedding even more.” She pointed to Jordan with her thumb. “We need to get this one a date. And, of course, I really want to marry you.”
Jordan turned his head while they kissed. He no longer found it strange that his sister had fallen in love with a scarred, battle-weary knight who was thirteen years older than her. Leo was a good guy. But he still found it a bit distasteful when they hung all over each other. She was still his little sister, after all.
“Ugh, Lord Drayton.” Fay made a gagging noise. “I can’t stand that weasel.
“We have to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Sophie insisted. “I get he was a bit unsavory your first time, but things can change, and you know he has no memory of what he did before.”
“And he and his men fought valiantly alongside us during the attack,” Leo said. “If he is a bad man still, we have no proof and must give him the benefit of the doubt as Sophie said.”
Fay turned up her nose, refusing to be swayed. It was clear she still hated Lord Drayton, and Jordan wondered what unsavory thing he did during Fay’s first round with the curse. He wouldn’t stoop to asking, though. He had enough of his own to be curious about. All things he was positive Lyra could answer if he could summon her. She was stubborn and nasty but he’d be more stubborn and more nasty if he had to be. He had a feeling she was bound to him somehow. Perhaps by the promise she had made to get him back to his proper time. Whatever it was, he was going to capitalize on it and squeeze her for every drop of information he could. If he could get away from his jailers.
He finally got his chance when Leo went to ask Sir Walter for Sophie’s hand in marriage. Sophie was so giddy and excited she followed him so she could wait outside Sir Walter’s door and listen in. Fay got called away by Catherine, the stable master’s wife. For whatever reason, Fay was skittish where Catherine was concerned and ran to her side at the drop of a hat. Tristan was the easiest one, because he seemed to forget about the curse when Fay wasn’t around to remind him. He only knew he had to keep Jordan from being alone, but if Jordan could catch him at the right time, he might be hazy on why.
“I can see you want to get out there and join the others on the training field,” Jordan said. He and Tristan were sitting on a bench outside the kitchen, casually enjoying the smell of bread baking. “Sophie was just in the kitchen a minute ago. I could help her so you can be rid of me.”
Tristan gave him a long look. “Fay will kill me if any harm comes to you. You’re apparently quite important.”
Jordan laughed heartily. “Women! Am I right? Such worriers.” Jordan crossed his arms and clapped his shoulders. “Look at me.”
“I think you appear strong, it’s true. I heard from Sophie’s maid you don’t believe in fighting?”
“What can I say? It’s the way I was raised.”
“You’ve never had the occasion to have to defend yourself?” he asked skeptically.
Jordan shrugged. “Well, you recall I traveled with Sir Leo as Lord Benetto’s chancellor. With Sir Leo and his men around, I never had to.”
Please let it take. He needed to trick Tristan into only remembering the made-up story of his existence at the castle. If he could make him forget he was Sophie’s real brother from the future and the key to breaking the curse, he might have a shot at a few precious minutes alone.
“Ah, yes. Sir Leo’s reputation definitely precedes him.” Tristan looked longingly at the training field.
“I’m certain you’ll be the same,” Jordan said, his face burning. “With practice.” He closed his eyes, expecting to get hit for being so obvious, but Tristan was already several feet away from him. “I shall see you at supper, Lord Jordan,” he called over his shoulder.
Sophie was going to murder him. Then Fay was going to kick his corpse. He cackled under his breath as he made his way stealthily to the nearest way out. As he ran toward the forest, he laughed out loud. Freedom made the crisp air smell sweet and the sky appear bluer than ever. The only thing that slowed his feet and dampened his triumphant mood was the thought of Marjorie being used again by Lyra.
“Lyra, I summon you to keep your promise,” he boomed.
He was deep in the forest and the same stillness surrounded him. He sat down and leaned against a tree trunk, picking at the leaf rot while he waited. He still buzzed with confidence from scamming Tristan and knew she’d turn up eventually. He waited what seemed like an hour and his confidence wavered. He’d really wanted to get back to the castle and make it seem like he’d been watching Tristan and the other knights all along. Now, he only wanted to decrease the amount of berating he’d get because he was sure they’d noticed his absence by now.
“It will be worth it if I get answers,” he said, then hollered for Lyra again. He heard scuffling from somewhat close by and pumped his fist. “Yes, finally,” he called.
He took a few steps and heard crying. No, it was more like desperate, anguished sobs. They seemed to engulf him, coming from every direction at once. He turned in a circle, trying to get his bearing, finally crashing toward where he was certain the sound was coming. Or he hoped it was the right direction. The only thing he was certain of was that the desolate cries were not coming from Lyra.
*
Marjorie opened her eyes to see she was surrounded by dense trees. How did she get here? She was standing, her foot raised to take a step, so she must have come of her own volition. But she had no memory of it. For a brief moment, she couldn’t remember anything.
This is a dream. A bad dream.
She pinched both arms but everything remained the same. She dropped to the ground in a crouch and wracked her mind to remember. She’d been in the kitchen. Yes. Telling off one of the boys for waking Anne after she’d expressly told them to stay away. The lad had only been following the cook’s order to bring her some food, but Marjorie wasn’t having his excuses. Then what? If she’d been in the kitchen, that meant she hadn’t been asleep at all. It wasn’t a dream.
Terror as she’d never felt before overtook her and she rolled into a ball. Something was wrong with her. Tears rolled down her face and soon she was crying uncontrollably. She was going mad. Soon, she’d be a drooling, raving madwoman who had to be locked up. She’d die that way, alone, not knowing where or who she was. But why? Hadn’t she always tried to be good? She went to chapel more than any of the others except, perhaps, Anne.
“Hey.”
She stopped crying abruptly, hearing a voice. Not voices inside her head. She couldn’t stand that. A human voice nearby.
“Marjorie, it’s me. Er, Lord Jordan.”
She pulled herself out of her curled up position and saw it was really him. He looked at her with concern.
“I—I don’t know how I got here,” she confessed.
She was exhausted. Perhaps from the trek this far into the woods, perhaps from her growing madness. The nightmares barely let her sleep anymore. She couldn’t have made up a feasible story for why she was weeping out there if she tried.
“Yes, I know,” he said.
“How do you know?” she demanded, sitting up. Her hands were dirty from clutching at the ground while she wept, so she wiped her face with her sleeve.
“I mean, I figured as much,” he said, his face turning red.
For some reason, the fact that he was somewhat uncomfortable comforted her. He was a safe distance and made no move closer to her. And his eyes were kind and full of pity. Normally, she hated pity but thought she deserved some right then. More tears leaked out of her eyes.
“I must be going mad. The nightmares, now this.”
“You’re not going mad, I guarantee that,” he said firmly. “I can’t account for your nightmares. But being out here isn’t your fault and it isn’t because you’re losing your mind.”
“Do you know why I’m here, then? Did you see me leave the castle? What are you doing out here?”
He furrowed his brow. “I can’t answer why you’re here and I didn’t see you leave the castle. And, uh, I was hunting.” He looked down at his hands and grew a darker shade of red. “Setting snares, I mean.”
“Yes, that makes more sense since you don’t have any weapons with you. You don’t mind killing animals then?” She smirked. “Your—what was it called? Pastifick ways don’t apply to hares?”
“Pacifist,” he corrected, a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you teasing me?”
“Perhaps a little. I had never heard such a thing before.”
Amazingly, she felt better and better. She patted the ground near her and motioned for him to have a seat. She didn’t think she could stand if she tried. Not yet. He sat a few feet away, cross-legged, with his hands folded in his lap.
“It’s probably not a thing in this time,” he muttered, then looked up, eyes wide. “I mean, it’s a very new belief system.”
“It sounds lovely,” she admitted. “I hate the bloody ways of knights. The way they’re so proud of all their carnage.”
She instantly wished she hadn’t said it. He was a close friend of Sir Leo and would probably take offense. Sophie would be angry with her. She didn’t usually spew out all her thoughts, but she was rattled by her current situation. And Lord Jordan put her at ease, sitting so calmly, with such a look of compassion in his eyes. His very pretty blue eyes. “Please forget I said that.”
He shrugged. “You’re entitled to your opinion.”
“Am I?” She laughed caustically. “Most would disagree. And I honestly meant no disrespect to my—Sir Walter or Sophie or Fay. I mean Lady Sophie and Lady Fay.”
“Hey, go ahead and be comfortable. I call her Sophie and she’s never evaporated from the lack of the title.”
She gasped. There was that impertinence again. “How are you so close with La—Sophie? I know she’s only known you as long as the rest of us.”
He laughed at that, but it didn’t seem like he actually found it funny. “I’m very close with Sir Leo, remember? Or since we’re being casual, Leo. I’ve served alongside him for years.” His face had a bitter look to it now. “As a chancellor.”
“A respectable profession,” she assured him.
She felt low for the first time in her life. She was only a lady’s maid. That was respectable as well, of course. But would a man with a title think so? And why should she care? She reminded herself that she was of high birth, though, only brought to her place by circumstance. Her head started to hurt. It was always the same when she thought of her childhood. Was she brought to her place by circumstance?
As if reading her trouble thoughts, he asked, “How long have you been at the castle?”
Her head throbbed. “As long as I can remember,” she said, pressing at her temples.
“Are you all right? Does your head hurt? My medicine from Italy will clear it right up.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said while everything was rushing back at her. “It’s only that I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“I should sit next to you at night and tell you long, boring stories in a droning voice,” he said, smiling widely at her. “Once upon a time …”
She blushed at his scandalous suggestion, but didn’t look away. Perhaps Batty was right and it wasn’t only his hair that caught her fancy. He did have a rather handsome face. More importantly than that, there was kindness in his eyes. Compassion. She looked hard at him, somewhat enjoying the little quiver she felt in her midsection. It was so much nicer than the constant fear and exhaustion.
“Perhaps you could share your stories with Edgar,” she said bitterly. “His advice isn’t much better.”
She’d gone to Edgar the night before for something to help her sleep. He’d pressed his hand to her brow hard enough to call up a new headache and breathed his foul alcohol-soaked breath all over her face. He told her to pray harder and if she didn’t get any sleep that night, he’d drain off some of her evil humors for her. She found she was scowling and forced her face to relax.
Jordan clapped his hands and leaned forward eagerly. Surprisingly, the sudden movement didn’t frighten her.
“Yes, tell me all about the drunken physician, Edgar. Every single person in the castle pulls a face like yours when they mention his name.”
“I shouldn’t gossip,” she said, longing to gossip.
“Yes you should,” he answered instantly.
“He’s a hundred years old if he’s a day,” she sighed. “I think he’s just lived far too long. I mustn’t speak poorly of him, but he only seems to make Anne worse instead of better. Every time he treats her.”
“You’re very close to Anne,” he said.
It wasn’t a question and she felt warmed that he could see her feelings. Everyone else counted her as miserable and sour, but perhaps Lord Jordan saw her differently.
“Yes, she’s very dear to me, like a—” she stopped, not wanting to be presumptuous, though she was sure Anne felt much the same. “How disappointed she’d be to know what’s wrong with me.” She blinked away more tears before they could fall. If she didn’t hurry back, everyone would worry and wonder. She was reluctant to leave his calming presence and smiled weakly. “You’ve been so kind. You’ve distracted me into almost forgetting why I’m out here. Which I still don’t have any idea.”
To her surprise, he leaned forward and took her hand. Her first instinct was to snatch it away, but another, older and wiser instinct, let her keep it in his grasp.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said forcefully. “I promise. I can’t explain why because you wouldn’t believe me. But can you trust me that you’re fine? You are not insane at all.”
She sniffled. “I want to believe you. Who wants to go mad? None of your medicines will help with my sleep problem, will they?”
His look of concern was back. “Maybe one of the antihistamines, but I really don’t think you should take any of it unless you need it. The aspirin for your headache shouldn’t hurt you but I can’t vouch for any of the other stuff. In fact, I’m still not sure Anne should take any of it, no matter how sick she is.”
She blinked several times at his fast speech. “The pain in my head was all but gone until you said all that. And Anne’s already taken some. Sophie brought it two nights ago, with your instructions. They were your instructions, weren’t they?”
He rolled his eyes and dropped her hand. She was sorry to lose the warmth. “Well, I guess the horse is out of the barn. That brat.” He shook his head and smiled. “Don’t mind me, I’m just rambling. I’m sure Anne will be fine.” She couldn’t help but smile back. She was still shaken by the mysterious way she’d found herself in the woods, but his words had soothed her. She didn’t know why she should believe him, but he spoke with such authority. “And Marjorie?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“You won’t find yourself out here again. I know that for sure. So if you don’t believe anything else I’ve said, believe that.”
She liked the way he spoke. As if he really did know. She liked how he didn’t recoil at her mad crying, but sat quietly and soothed her with nonsensical talk. She was sure now that she must have sleepwalked out here. She might have gone to lie down on a bench in the kitchen and drifted off. No one would have stopped her if she left. They all would have assumed she had a reason for whatever she was doing.
“I wonder if I could beg you to not say anything about finding me here. You’ve been such a comfort, I feel presumptuous for asking anything of you.”
He laughed. It was a true laugh this time. She wasn’t offended, feeling that it wasn’t at her. She felt much happier herself.
“I like the way you talk,” he said. “And you don’t have to beg me or even ask me. We’re friends now, after all. It goes without saying that this stays between us.” He stood and held out his hand to help her up. She took it and he pulled her effortlessly to her feet. He may not have believed in fighting but he was still strong. “Can I walk you back to the castle?”
She gasped. “No, that wouldn’t be—I mean what if—”
“Ah, that’s right, your reputation. I’m sorry, I forgot. Please know your reputation is of the utmost importance to me. I’ll continue on in the forest for a while so you can go back on your own.”
She beamed at him. She hadn’t smiled that hard in a long time. Maybe ever. It hurt her face, but in a good way. She was glad now she’d forgiven him their first awkward encounter and hadn’t judged his odd behavior in the hall that one night. Now she was being rewarded by not being judged. She was more grateful to him for that than she could ever say.
“I shall see you at supper, perhaps,” she said. She gathered up every bit of courage she had and added, “I like the way you talk as well.”
She didn’t wait to see his reaction. His smile was enough. She turned and ran all the way back to the castle. She didn’t get to see him at supper because Batty told her she looked dead on her feet. Anne heard and called from her sickbed, “Go to sleep, Marjorie. You’re excused from all duties.”
She fell into bed, asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She had the first dreamless night’s sleep in as long as she could remember.
*
Jordan watched Marjorie trot away toward the castle, knowing he could never summon Lyra again. He was grateful to see how recovered Marjorie seemed from when he first came upon her. He was glad he’d been able to cheer her up, though he’d said such stupid things he still wasn’t sure how he’d done it.
He supposed it was just her nature that made her so accepting of the nonsense he spewed. They were actually pretty friendly with each other there at the end. He appreciated that she hadn’t scorned his supposed lack of fighting skills. That still rankled him, because he could hold his own in his proper time. It was just too bad he’d never been threatened with a battle axe. He was certain if his sister stopped bursting into tears every time he suggested training with the squires he could gain plenty of medieval skills and hold his own in this time, too. But now that Marjorie thought his peaceful nature was lovely, it made him rethink his desire to learn to swing a sword.
He chuckled as he meandered through the forest, wasting time before he went back. She had actually teased him a little, which meant she must not be scared he was a filthy pervert anymore. That was a weight off his shoulders. Maybe she could get Batty to stop glaring at him. Yes, he quite liked Marjorie.
That was why he was determined not to summon Lyra again. He was sorry to miss his chance to ask the questions he needed answers to. He was really sorry he was going to have to take the tongue lashings and possible actual lashings when he got back and couldn’t smugly tell them everything he’d learned. But after seeing Marjorie in such a confused and frightened state, he was done with all the possession nonsense. He smiled again, recalling how Lyra had complained about Marjorie being strong. She had obviously meant Marjorie must have put up a fierce mental battle every time the witch took over her body. Well, Marjorie won the battle today. That was for sure, even though it had left her in the middle of the woods with no recollection of how she got there.
Jordan thought he heard more voices, blown in on a rare breeze through the trees. He stopped short when the men’s voices flared louder. It was clearly an argument.
“Attacking the castle ahead of schedule was foolish. We agreed you’d take Dernier Keep first,” one voice said angrily. “Now both of our men suffered injuries for naught. Did you think I wouldn’t fight on their side?”
“Aye, well you didn’t have to make it so convincing,” the second voice grumbled. “And I was sick of waiting for you to make up your mind so I took action. If you hadn’t been such a coward, we would have taken the castle.”
Score! It seemed like Jordan was going to have information to share when he got back after all. He wanted to peek around the trunk of the tree and see who the men were, but he couldn’t risk them seeing him.
“Watch yourself,” the first man said. “You’ll be wise to remember who is keeping you and your men in coin. And I had very clearly made my decisions known to you. Dernier first. To call away Sir Tristan and his men. I secure the Grancourt wench and then we take the castle from Sir Walter. Now, I’m under suspicion and may not get his blessing.”
“Bah, not after the way you and your men slashed and pummeled mine. No one’s suspicious, Drayton, so calm down. I still say we could have seized the castle if you’d played along.”
Jordan had to bite his finger to keep from making a noise. Sophie had been wrong in wanting to give Lord Drayton the benefit of the doubt. Fay was correct in her diagnosis of the man as a weasel.
“Fool. It’s not that simple,” Lord Drayton said. “The crown can contest my ownership if I merely take the place by force. Hence, marrying the old man’s sickly daughter. I’d be the one it goes to after Walter’s out of the way. It won’t be much longer to be free of the daughter. If her damned annoying cough doesn’t take her off my hands, there are a few poisons that will hasten her departure.”
Jordan leaned over, fighting nausea. That was way too much. It had all been fun and games until Drayton mentioned poison. He prayed for them to go away so he could get back to the castle to warn everyone. There was a sudden silence and he waited, still bent over and holding his breath. Had he made a noise? Were they waiting in silence to see if he made another? After what seemed an eternity, Drayton spoke up again.
“Go and do what I tell you from now on,” he said.
“Aye, Dernier Keep. I hear and obey, my lord.”
Jordan waited in utter stillness as they crashed away through the forest. There was no way they could have heard him if they were making that much of a racket. As the crunches and crackles subsided, he waited a few more seconds and then stuck his head around the tree.
Oh, crap. They not only must have heard him make a noise, they had thoroughly tricked him. Lord Drayton and his goon were not five feet away, staring expectantly at the tree he hid behind. Lord Drayton smiled.
“Get him,” he said calmly.
Jordan, anything but calm, turned and ran.