Page 13 of Golden (Fairytales Retold)

THE LADY OF THE HILL

N ot knowing what to do with himself until sunset, Tabian wandered around the village. He visited the apothecary and got a salve for his wounds. Of course, that meant having to answer questions about how he’d gotten injured. He stuck to the story of getting robbed, assuring the store owner and the other villagers present that Lady Ravenshire would do her best to track down his attackers.

Afterward, he found a secluded spot across from Bartholomew’s shop where he could watch the door, hoping to catch sight of Katerina coming or going, but she never made an appearance. The day dragged by at an agonizingly slow pace, his frustration mounting. He needed to find a way to get through to Katerina. He needed her to tell him her secrets, which seemed to be as vast as the sea.

As the day wore on, he decided to answer the demands of his rumbling stomach. He went to the baker and selected a crusty loaf of bread and a thick wedge of cheese for his midday meal. He went to check on his horse. After leading it to a public trough and giving it adequate water, he tied it back up and then found a quiet spot under a tree where he could eat. The sun was now high in the sky, casting bright spears through the colorful leaves. A pleasant breeze stirred the air. Where it had been cold this morning, the temperature was now perfect.

He ate the meal and then stretched out on the grass. His eyes grew heavy as he dozed off. He awoke with a start, berating himself for falling asleep. The sun had fallen to a low position in the sky. Evidently, his body was still craving rest after his long days of traveling. It wouldn’t be long until it was sunset. He got to his feet and went to get his horse. He could lead it up to Lady Ravenshire’s manor and tie it up there.

Just as the last sliver of the golden sun disappeared from the sky in a fiery blaze of pinks and oranges, Tabian spotted Bartholomew and Katerina shuffling up the long and winding road leading to the entrance of the manor. Rather than going inside, Tabian had planted himself by a fence that enclosed a private garden.

His heart quickened as he watched them. Their somber faces and the heavy weight of their steps suggested that they were laden with worry. Tabian surmised that he was the cause of their distress. What sort of persuasion tactic could he use to get Katerina to leave with him to Verdermere? He’d tried appealing to her sense of justice, but that fell flat. While she expressed sorrow for Garrin’s plight, it wasn’t enough to convince her to take responsibility for the theft.

He could offer to help her escape the clutches of the enchantress. Surely, that notion would appeal to her. He could tell her about the stone and the power that it could wield, if only he could figure out how to use it. Of course, there was a chance that she might try to steal the necklace from him. She was a thief, after all.

His thoughts took another turn. What if he was wrong? What if Katerina had stolen the apples of her own accord? If that were the case, then why would the enchantress Lilith want him dead? Somehow, the enchantress was involved in all of this. He was sure of it.

He stepped out to greet Katerina and Bartholomew as they reached the front steps. When she saw him, Katerina scowled. “You should’ve heeded my warning.” Her eyes darted to his wounds. “You look terrible,” she muttered as if she were somehow responsible for his condition.

“As bad as it looks … well, it feels even worse,” he joked. She didn’t so much as crack a grin. He nodded at Bartholomew. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” the older man said tersely, plodding up the steps.

Katerina moved to follow, but Tabian caught hold of her arm. “We need to talk,” he growled into her ear, catching the aromatic scent of lavender and sandalwood in her golden hair. It wrapped him in an intoxicating hold. This evening, she was wearing a pink frock, which accentuated her slender frame. How could a woman be so beautiful, so strong, and yet vulnerable at the same time? He soaked in the lines of her delicate features, his gaze lingering on the vitality of her wide, luminous eyes. He took in a breath, willing himself to remain focused on the task at hand.

Bartholomew glanced back over his shoulder. “Are you coming?” he asked Katerina with a huff, his disapproving gaze resting on Tabian.

“Go on in, Father,” Katerina said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

When Bartholomew hesitated, she gave him a reassuring smile. “Tabian won’t hurt me.” She cut her eyes at Tabian. “Will you?”

“Nay,” he interjected to Bartholomew. “I would never hurt her.” He glanced at the sling around her shoulder and winced. “Again.”

She grunted softly.

Bartholomew rapped his knuckles against the door. When it opened, he stepped inside. The instant it closed, Katerina launched in. “I tried to warn you,” she seethed.

“Warn me about what?”

“Never mind,” she mumbled. “It’s too late.”

Frustration climbed up his neck. “Too late for what?”

She looked down at his fingers curled around her arm. “Let go of me,” she demanded.

He immediately did so, holding up his hands. “I just want to talk. Please.” He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice even. “Look, I realize that there’s no way I can force you to go with me to Verdermere.”

A hard amusement flicked in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to come to your senses.”

He rushed on. “I think there’s another way.” The faint embers of interest in her eyes gave him hope as he continued. “I want to make you an offer—one you can’t refuse.”

Katerina held his face for a long, unreadable moment.

“Please, just hear me out,” he urged.

“We’ll talk about it later … after the dinner is over.”

Victory punched through him as a smile spread over his mouth. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t yet agreed to your offer,” she snapped.

“But you agreed to listen, it’s a start.”

“You’re impossible,” she grumbled.

He laughed. “Nay, that honor is reserved for you.”

A short laugh clipped her throat, and then the tiniest of smiles crept over her mouth before she smothered it. “You are tenacious, I’ll give you that.” The admiration in her eyes did strange things to his insides. Something shifted between them, thickening the air. He caught the way her throat moved as she swallowed, taking note of the gentle rhythm of her breath.

It was so tempting to close the space between them and give in to the insatiable need to capture her lips. Instead, he forced himself to step back.

She glanced towards the door. “Let’s just go and get this dinner over with. Lady Ravenshire doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

He held out his arm in proper, noble form. “May I?”

With a resigned sigh, she slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her up the steps.

“Tell me more about yourself,” Lady Ravenshire prompted from across the table.

The reflection of her ruby necklace shimmering against the golden light of the candles reminded Tabian of drops of blood. He put down his fork and sat back in his seat, trying to decide what he should divulge as all eyes watched him expectantly. The food was delectable, some of the finest roasted pheasant he’d ever eaten, which was saying a lot considering that he’d grown up in a castle.

The dining chamber was impressive. Two tall gilded mirrors hanging side by side created an illusion of extended space. An elaborate tapestry adorned one wall, and the vivid purple velvet drapes sweeping over the large window looked out to a well-tended garden that would’ve rivaled the royal garden in which Garrin labored so devoutly. The thought of Garrin made his stomach twist. It tore at Tabian’s insides to know he was chained up in the dungeon. Tabian was doing all he could to free him, but nothing seemed to be working.

He glanced at Katerina, who was seated beside him. She’d been eating her food with the grace of a queen, her every movement as fluid as water. Even in the dim glow of the candles, her hair shimmered like jewels. Her slender neck held up her head in such an elegant stance. How could he not be enamored with her? Feeling his eyes on her, she gave him a fleeting smile that held a whisper of warmth. It was gone before he had time to take his next breath.

Did she feel the invisible cord pulling them together? For him, the attraction burned bright and hot.

How was he going to persuade her to go back to Verdermere with him? Would she be enticed by a position of status? With wealth? Surely, Father would give her whatever she desired once he realized she was the golden bird.

Lady Ravenshire cleared her throat, and then her gaze sharpened.

Tabian jerked slightly, realizing that she’d asked him a question and was awaiting his response. Bartholomew was sitting to the right of Lady Ravenshire, his expression brooding as if expecting some tragedy to strike at any moment.

“What does your family do?” Lady Ravenshire asked with a trace of impatience.

Tabian took a swig of ale before setting the goblet back down. “My father is a gardener.” That was somewhat true. He thought of Garrin as his real father. He didn’t dare look at Katerina to see her reaction to the lie.

“I see. That’s a worthy occupation.” Lady Ravenshire tilted her head, her voice smooth as honey. “Do you share your father’s love for plants?”

“Only for apples,” Katerina muttered under her breath.

Tabian nearly choked on his own saliva. His heart was a battering ram against his ribs. Was Katerina trying to expose him? He had to resist the urge to give her arm a shove.

Lady Ravenshire leaned forward. “I’m sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

“I was just saying that Tabian is turning out to be much more like his father than I realized.” Katerina threw Tabian a sugary smile, but her eyes held a hard amusement.

The hairs on the back of Tabian’s neck lifted as he turned to her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her expression remained innocent. “Take it how you wish.” She turned her attention back to her plate and commenced eating.

Bartholomew jumped into the conversation, his stern gaze passing over Tabian and Katerina. His eyes settled on Tabian. “From what you told me last night, I was under the impression that you and Katerina had only met in passing.” He gave Tabian a meaningful look, one that urged him to go along with the lie.

Odd. Why was Bartholomew trying to keep up the ruse in front of Lady Ravenshire? There was obviously more going on here than Tabian was seeing. An invisible noose tightened around his neck. “That’s correct,” he said casually.

Lady Ravenshire raised her eyebrows. “And yet, Katerina knows something of your father.”

Tabian waved a hand, forcing a light chuckle. “I must’ve mentioned him during our casual conversation.”

“Nay, I think you’re fibbing,” Lady Ravenshire countered, eyes glimmering with amusement.

“You do?” Tabian croaked, touching the neckline of his tunic. His voice was tight and raspy. Heat pushed through him with the force of a dozen fires. Why was he suddenly so hot?

A knowing smile curled Lady Ravenshire’s lips. “I detect a certain spark between the two of you. Is there something I should know?”

Katrina snapped her head up, eyes flashing with defiance. “Nay. There’s nothing between us. We’re merely acquaintances. He means nothing to me.”

The words slammed into him like a punch to the gut. “Thanks,” he sulked. So much for his hope that she might care for him. The next instant, he was rolled in a wave of dizziness. The candles were casting distorted shadows over the faces around the table. He tugged at his tunic, his chest tightening. Something was happening. He looked around. The room was moving in a fast circle. His stomach knotted, making him want to vomit.

Velvety laughter flowed from Lady Ravenshire’s throat. “Calm down, dear. It was only an observation.” She eyed Katerina in a challenge. “You care about him … a lot.”

Katerina dropped her fork with a plink. “He means nothing to me.”

Tabian should’ve known that Katerina was only playing him. He was surprised by how much her spiteful words cut. How quickly history repeated itself. He’d been taken in by Arabella and then by Katerina. For some strange reason, Katerina’s betrayal hurt the most.

Was that why his body was acting so strange? Was he having some sort of severe emotional reaction to Katerina’s hateful words? Nay, the symptoms had started before her rant.

“Well, that’s good,” Lady Ravenshire snipped, “because then you won’t be overly distraught about what will happen next.”

Alarm pulsed through Tabian when his throat began to close. He made a gurgling sound, trying to gulp in more air. He reached for the goblet and took another drink. “Something’s wrong,” he squeaked, clutching his neck.

Lady Ravenshire’s voice tightened with concern. “Tabian, what’s the matter?”

Her words came at him from far away. Everything was muddled and slow, like he was swimming through water.

“What did you do to him?” Katerina demanded.

Tabian’s head wobbled, darkness crowding the edges of his eyes.

“You said you would let him go.” Katerina’s voice cracked. “You promised.”

“I will let him go,” Lady Ravenshire purred. She eyed Tabian with malevolence. “But first, he has something that belongs to me.”

A high-pitched shrill laced Katerina’s voice. “What could he possibly have?”

“Lilith, please,” Bartholomew began, “show the lad some mercy.”

“Lilith?” Tabian’s lips managed to form the word. His mind whirled.

She was the enchantress.

He was going to die.

“I want my amulet back,” Lilith growled.

Tabian lifted his head to look at her and then surrendered to the blackness as he fell forward.