Page 34 of Knight’s, Assassins and Saviors
CHAPTER EIGHT
“G ood heavens,” Diara said, throwing her hands up into the air. “I swear to you that I am not armed, my lord. I have no weapons. May I pass?”
She had just walked into the ladies’ solar of Lioncross Abbey and straight into an ambush. She’d made the mistake of traveling alone because Iris wasn’t feeling well, so she’d left the woman in her bed. That meant she was moving about unattended, and currently, she was being held hostage by three small boys, sons of Roi’s middle sister, Rebecca. The boys had wooden swords in their hands, all of them pointed at Diara, and they were unfortunately being egged on by older cousins, sons of Roi’s youngest sister, a woman known to the family as Honey. Diara had met most of the de Lohr family over the past few days, with all of them coming to Lioncross for Beckett’s funeral but now remaining for Roi’s marriage.
That was where there was some trouble.
Not with Roi’s siblings, for all of them were very kind to Diara, and she felt happy and comfortable with them. It had taken her about a day to endear herself to the brothers with her sweet manner and witty conversation, and the women followed closely. Roi had four sisters—Christin, Brielle, Rebecca, and Honey, but Diara hadn’t yet met Brielle. The others, however, were positively delightful. Christin had seemed particularly difficult to win over because she was very protective of Roi, but in the end, even she gave her approval.
Then came the grandchildren of Christopher and Dustin.
There were quite a few of them, from toddlers up to grown men. It was the grown men that Diara was having some difficulty with, in particular, Honey’s sons. Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius de Shera were close to Beckett’s age, and the boys had all grown up together, meaning they weren’t very happy about Uncle Roi marrying Beckett’s intended. They’d been grumbling about it, something most of the adults except their mother had ignored, and Honey had told them to shut their lips or feel her wrath.
That wasn’t exactly how Diara wanted to win them over.
Now, she was standing in an unexpected position in the ladies’ solar with Rebecca’s young sons trying to ambush her. She could see Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius back in the shadows of the solar, drinking and snorting at the antics. Diara was fairly certain she wouldn’t get any help from them, so she tried to reason with the three hooligans in front of her—seven-year-old twins and another boy who had seen five years.
Vaughn, James, and Westley had her cornered.
“You may not pass!” Vaughn barked. “What do you have?”
Diara had a spool of thread in her hand, and she held it out so they could see it. “I’ve come to look for red thread,” she said. “Your grandmother told me she keeps it in here. May I go and find it?”
Vaughn frowned and took the spool from her, inspecting it. “Don’t you have any money?”
Diara shook her head. “I am sorry, I do not.”
That seemed to confuse the older boys, who looked at each other. “But we need money,” James said. “Bring us some money and we will give you back your spool.”
Diara shook her head. “I’m afraid I have no money,” she said. “May I have my spool back?”
The boys weren’t sure what to do at this point. They looked at one another, puzzled, and the five-year-old finally set his sword aside and started picking his nose. He’d quickly grown bored of the ambush. As he wandered off, leaving the twins to decide Diara’s fate, one of older cousins emerged from the shadows.
Diara recognized Tiberius de Shera on sight. He was tall and slender, with gleaming eyes that always suggested he was in on a joke. She’d been introduced to him prior to Beckett’s funeral, but he hadn’t spoken to her since that time. In fact, he seemed to make a point of staying away from her. He reached down to pick up the wooden sword that the five-year-old had dropped before looking at Diara in a rather appraising manner.
“I think she does have money,” he said, speaking to the twins. “Her father is the Earl of Cheltenham. He’s very rich.”
The twins looked at Diara in surprise. “You do have money?” Vaughn asked, outraged that she would lie to him. “Where is it? I want some!”
But Diara shook her head. “I do not have any with me,” she said. “I did not bring any money, so I’m afraid I cannot give you any. Moreover, I would not give you money to reward you for your thievery. It is a naughty thing that you are doing.”
“So is stealing another husband,” Tiberius said, the gleam in his eyes fading.
“Ty,” one of the men behind him said. “Enough.”
“Nay, it is not enough,” Tiberius said, his eyes fixed on Diara. “You do know that Beckett was supposed to be your husband, don’t you?”
Diara was immediately on her guard with what sounded like an accusation. “Of course I do.”
“Then why take his father?” Tiberius demanded. “I heard what happened. I heard that your father came here and demanded Uncle Roi marry you in place of Beckett. Why did you do it?”
Diara could have flamed at the young knight, who was quite a bit taller and larger than she was, but she kept her composure. She didn’t want to fight with an emotional young man who clearly misunderstood the situation.
“I did not do anything,” she said evenly. “It was my father’s doing, without any prompting from me. I know you are asking because you loved your cousin, and I respect that. It must be wonderful to have family and cousins that you love so dearly. But I did not have anything to do with the marriage contract or what happened with it. Women usually don’t.”
Tiberius hadn’t been prepared for that polite answer to his nasty query. He turned to look at his brothers seated behind him, but they gave him no indication of what they were thinking. In fact, one of them simply looked away as if he wanted nothing to do with whatever was going on. Seeing he had little support in the matter, Tiberius returned his attention to Diara.
“Didn’t you love Beckett?” Tiberius asked seriously. “How could you even think of marrying someone else, much less his father?”
“That is none of your affair, Tiberius.”
Roi was suddenly in the doorway, looking at Tiberius in a decidedly unfriendly fashion. Behind Tiberius, his brothers stood up and came forward, rallying around their brother now that their uncle, and Beckett’s father, was in the room. They all had a healthy fear of Uncle Roi, and for good reason.
“He did not mean any disrespect, Uncle Roi,” Gallus, the eldest, said quietly. “But it’s what we’re all thinking. I am sorry if that is upsetting, but it is.”
Roi’s piercing gaze moved to his sister’s eldest boy. “So you think to corner her and interrogate her?” he said. “Over something that is none of your affair? How rude and arrogant of you to assume she owes you any answers at all. She doesn’t owe you a thing, and I am ashamed that you should think so.”
“But… but she belongs to Beckett,” Tiberius said before Gallus could stop him. “How could you… Why did you… She belongs to your son!”
Roi would have been extremely angry except for one thing—he knew that Beckett and Tiberius had been close. He’d seen Tiberius weeping at the funeral, heartbroken by the loss of his cousin. Taking that into account, he went to Tiberius and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.
“Ty,” he said, considerably softer. “I know you are overwrought with Beckett’s death. I understand that completely. But your grief is making you lash out at someone who does not deserve it. Lady Diara was indeed pledged to Beckett, but she is not his widow. She was never married to him at all. With Beckett dead, surely you cannot expect her never to marry at all. But there is indeed a marriage contract, and her father asked if another de Lohr male would fulfill it. Since I am Beckett’s father, it is my duty to marry her in my son’s stead. But let me be clear—she had nothing to do with my decision. She is innocent in all of this, so you will treat her with all due respect. For my sake.”
Tiberius had backed down considerably. After a moment, he hung his head and nodded. Roi patted him on the cheek before looking to his brothers behind him.
“That goes for all of you,” he said. “Lady Diara is worthy of our respect and love. If you spend any time around her, I think you will see why.”
Gallus and the middle brother, Maximus, simply nodded, looking to Diara, who was standing there with an anxious expression on her face. Gallus looked at Maximus, feeling that perhaps they should apologize to the lady, when Vaughn, who was still in the chamber, came up behind Roi and tugged on his tunic. Roi looked down to see his nephew pulling on him.
“What do you want?” he asked. “And why are you in the ladies’ solar?”
Vaughn held up the wooden sword in his hand. “We came to find money,” he said. “Do you have money?”
Roi took the sword out of the child’s hand, turned him for the door, and spanked him right on the buttocks with his big, hard hand.
“Not for you,” he said as Vaughn yelped. “Get out of here before I beat you, you little thief. And I’d better not catch you trying to steal money anymore. Do you hear me?”
Vaughn fled the chamber in tears with James on his tail, but not before he handed the spool of thread back to Diara. They could hear the boys wailing as they ran down the hall, which brought giggles from Tiberius and Gallus. They were always in approval of anything that made the younger boys weep. But Roi looked at them, and their smiles instantly vanished.
“As for the rest of you,” he said, “unless you have any further business here, leave the ladies’ solar. You do not belong here.”
Properly rebuked, the three of them departed the solar without another glance to Diara. Once they were gone, their footsteps fading away, Roi finally turned his attention to Diara.
“I do apologize,” he said, smiling weakly. “They were attached to Beckett, particularly Tiberius. I had a feeling they might say something to you.”
Diara shook her head. “They are grieving,” she said. “I know that.”
“You are gracious, my lady.”
“It is simply a matter of understanding why they are asking such questions,” she said. “It is not because they are wicked. It is because they loved your son. I understand that.”
She smiled, and Roi felt himself grow weak in the knees. Every day that passed saw him drawn more and more to Diara until he couldn’t think of anything else. It had been a very strange week, burying his son and preparing for a wedding. Part of him grieved Beckett’s loss on an hourly basis, but part of him was also excited for the coming nuptials to a woman who seemed to occupy his thoughts constantly. With his mother planning everything, a wedding of vast proportions was coming together at the end of the week. Cheltenham had been notified and invited, but he had yet to arrive. He even had yet to respond. But Roi wasn’t going to let that put a damper on things.
He hadn’t been this happy in years.
“Ty and Beckett were very much alike,” he said, moving in her direction. “I know Ty did not mean to be disrespectful, but I could not let him speak to you like that. I hope you understand.”
Diara’s smile grew as he drew closer. “I do,” she said. “But I was not offended. Thank you for coming to my rescue, however. It was quite noble of you.”
Roi reached out and took her hand as he came near, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “I told you that I would defend you to the death,” he said. “I meant it. Even against nosy nephews.”
Diara let herself feel the thrill of his lips against her hand, something she’d been indulging in since he’d done it the first time back at Cicadia. He never went any further, however, though the pull between them was more than either one of them could bear. In fact, at this very moment, that magnetism was causing Diara’s breathing to come in unsteady gasps. She was focused on his soft lips, wondering what they would feel like against hers.
“Roi?” she said softly.
His lips were still against her hand. “What is it, angel?”
“Do you remember when I told you that I’d never been kissed?”
“I do.”
“I am ready for that moment whenever you are.”
He stopped kissing her hand and looked at her, a smile playing on his lips. “I have been ready for quite some time,” he said. “But therein lies the problem.”
“What problem?”
“I am afraid that if I kiss you, I will not be able to stop.”
She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Then you never intend to kiss me?”
He shook his head. “I intend to kiss you several times a day once we are married,” he said. “But it is the same reason why I will not take you in my arms right now. I know that if I do, I will never let you go.”
“Never?”
“Never,” he confirmed. “It would, therefore, be best if we waited until our wedding before I kiss you or hold you. Because once I have you, dear lady, you are mine forever and I will never, ever release you. God himself could not pry you away from me.”
“Then you are concerned for your self-control.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I do not wish to compromise you before I am entitled to do so under the eyes of God. Are you agreeable to wait? It will only be another day.”
Diara wasn’t. Truly, she wasn’t at all. One day wouldn’t make a difference to her because the man made her knees weak and her heart race. There was nothing about him that didn’t make her entire body feel like jelly, feelings no man had ever given her. And he wanted to wait? She was positively averse to the idea. Nay, she didn’t want to wait. Everything in her body screamed for the man. Even her never-before-kissed lips. They wanted to know what they were missing. Therefore, her answer was to throw her arms around his neck and slant her lips over his.
Diara had thrown herself at him so hard that Roi grunted with the force of it. She’d essentially slammed her body against his, and, unprepared, he staggered a little as she latched on to him. But his surprise was only momentary, for the moment her lips touched his, he was lost as he knew he would be.
Instinct took over.
His arms went around her, holding her against him as he feasted on her. All of the restraint he’d shown in the past few days, fighting off urges that were reawakening deep within himself, were blown to cinders the moment she touched him and he knew that his fears had been immediately confirmed.
He couldn’t let her go.
She was soft and sweet and delicious in his arms. She was also very eager, but it was clear within the first few moments that she was inexperienced. All she’d ever known in her lifetime had been chaste kisses, from relatives. She’d never known anything passionate, kisses the way a woman was supposed to kiss a man, so Roi took his time with her. She was new to this and clearly wanted to learn, so he kissed her gently, suckling her lips, showing her what was pleasurable, and then delighted when she mimicked him.
Introducing his tongue into the mix was something different. Men and women tasted one another because it enhanced the passion and power of the gesture, so he showed her what it meant to be licked in between kisses, something very gentle and discreet, before prying her lips open and snaking his tongue over hers. She didn’t pull away, but she was unsure at first. He felt her tense. But it was for only a brief moment until she realized that she liked it.
Then she couldn’t get enough of him.
Roi was fully prepared to pull her into a corner and ravage her, but he began to hear voices—female voices—and suddenly let her go, pointing in the direction of the sounds, and she quickly understood. Staggering over to a chair because her knees were so wobbly, Diara nearly fell into it, landing on her bottom, giggling uncontrollably because she was so lightheaded from their encounter. Roi grinned, putting a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture, as he put distance between them. It was just in time, too, as Dustin and one of her daughters, Christin, entered the solar. They were followed by two very young girls who happened to be Christin’s granddaughters, children of her eldest son.
“Diara!” Dustin said in surprise. “I thought we’d lost you, lass. Where have you been? Did you find the thread?”
Diara realized she was still holding the spool, and she bolted up from the chair. “I am afraid I was prevented from doing so, my lady,” she said. “When I arrived, three young boys demanded money from me, and it was a standoff until Roi came to my rescue.”
It was then that the women noticed Roi at nearly the other end of the chamber. As the small girls began to run toward the table with the paints on it, as they loved to paint with their grandmother in the sunny chamber, Dustin looked at her second-eldest son with concern.
“Who was it?” she asked unhappily. “Wait—let me guess. Vaughn and James, wasn’t it? They did the same thing to Honey yesterday, and they actually poked her with one of those swords.”
Roi stepped out of the shadows, toward his mothers. “If Rebecca does not do something about those thieves now, she is going to have trouble with them when they grow older,” he said. “But it wasn’t only them. Gallus and Maximus and Tiberius were in here, as well. Ty was rather… rude to Diara.”
Dustin’s eyes widened, and she looked to Diara, who immediately shook her head. “They were not exactly rude,” she assured her quickly. “At least, I did not think so, but Roi’s opinion differs. It is simply a matter of perception, truly. They were… They spoke of…”
“They wanted to know how she could marry me after being betrothed to Beckett,” Roi finished for her. “Really, Mama, they were asking questions that were none of their affair. You had better tell Honey to curb her boys before I do. It would be less painful coming from her.”
Dustin sighed heavily and shook her head. “Ty has been rumbling about that all day,” she said, looking to Diara apologetically. “I did not think he would actually speak to you about it.”
Diara shrugged. “I am sure that he spoke from a place of love for Beckett,” she said. “I sense that he somehow views me still as Beckett’s property.”
“It is none of his affair,” Christin stepped in, eyeing her mother. “Ty has a loose tongue. Roi, I do not blame you if you take him to task over this. And what was he doing in the ladies’ solar, anyway? This is not a place for him. It must have made Diara feel terribly uncomfortable.”
Diara looked at the eldest de Lohr sibling, a beautiful woman with dark hair and her mother’s gray eyes. Her husband, Alexander de Sherrington, had been Christopher’s right-hand man for many years, a man of great reputation and talent. Sherry, as he was called, was in the north with two of their sons, trying to broker some kind of peace treaty for Henry between two warring barons, leaving his wife and remaining children and grandchildren at Lioncross. Truth be told, Christin was firm, unapologetic, and had a strong way about her. She was no shrinking violet, a strong woman for an equally strong man.
Diara smiled at her when their eyes met.
“You are kind to worry over my feelings, but truly, it was no trouble,” Diara said. “I think it is a natural question. Beckett is gone, and, suddenly, I’m marrying his father. It is puzzling.”
“That is true, but it is still none of their affair,” Christin said. “You are gracious for not being angry about it.”
Diara’s smile broadened. “I am trying to get along with all of the de Lohrs and their offspring,” she said. “Anger has no place until I know them better and can back that anger up with a club.”
Christin started laughing. “I have no doubt that you would,” she said. But then she looked at Roi. “Speaking of clubs, did Curtis tell you what has been planned for your wedding celebration?”
Roi frowned. “Christ,” he muttered. “Do I want to know?”
Christin was grinning. “You should probably be forewarned,” she said. “I heard him speaking with Douglas and West about having some games to celebrate. The usual games, with balls and sticks. You used to be fairly good at them.”
Roi rolled his eyes. “I am still good at them,” he said. “But I will be a new husband, and I do not want to be crippled when I have a new wife, and those fools will try to take me out by the knees and laugh because they will have ruined my… Well, it will be difficult to be a husband. In the usual way.”
He was digging himself into a hole trying to describe how difficult it would be to make love to his new wife with busted knees. He started to snort, unable to go any further, but Christin and Dustin knew what he meant even if Diara really didn’t.
“I would not worry,” Dustin said, smiling at her embarrassed son. “Your father will not compete, so it will only be Curtis, Douglas, West, and a few of the others.”
Roi pointed a finger at her. “It is those ‘few others’ I worry about,” he said, counting them off on his fingers. “Ty, Gallus, Maximus, Chris, William, and Arthur. Thank God Myles and his sons are not here and that Sherry and his sons are up north. And Cassius… If Brielle and her brood were here, including her beast of a husband, I would not play altogether. Cass will go for the kill.”
Dustin and Christin were laughing, but Diara looked at him curiously. “Brielle is another sister, isn’t she?” she asked.
Roi nodded. “The one you haven’t met,” he said. “Christin is the eldest, followed by Brielle. Her husband rode the tournament circuit professionally for years, and he’s positively unbeatable in nearly everything. He’s also a de Velt, which means he comes from a dynasty built on blood lust.”
“And you have many nephews that could compete in these games?” Diara asked.
Roi shook his head sadly. “Many,” he said. “Too many to name. Trust me when I say that there are too many de Lohrs, and all of them love to best one another in games of competition. If Curtis has games planned for our wedding celebration, I can promise you that they are out to do damage.”
“But why should they want to?”
“Because you don’t know my family. We would kill for one another, but we are also quite competitive with each other.”
“He is making it sound worse than it is,” Dustin said. “Do not listen to him, Diara. In fact, let us speak on something more pleasant. I was hoping you could go up to my chamber and ask my maid for the Dublin lace. I wanted to show it to you. Will you fetch it and bring it back?”
Diara nodded, already heading for the door. “Of course, Lady Hereford,” she said, pointing to the ceiling. “On the top floor?”
“Aye,” Dustin said. “Roi, go with her. Help her navigate this enormous place.”
With a smile playing on his lips, still thinking about bruised kneecaps and gloating brothers, Roi took Diara’s hand and led her out into the corridor. She beamed at him, holding his big hand with both of hers, gazing up at him adoringly. Roi was so busy watching her and not where he was going that he nearly ran into a wall. As they laughed softly at one another, completely caught up in the romance that had become their lives, Roi caught sight of his eldest brother near the entrance to the keep.
“Can you find my mother’s chamber on your own?” he asked, eyes on Curtis. “I should like to speak with my brother.”
Diara could see where his attention was. “About the wedding celebration?”
“Aye,” Roi said, kissing her hand before letting it go. “I feel the need to make a few things clear to him about his plans. No clubs, no targeting my knees. Or anyone else’s.”
Diara giggled. “Go,” she said. “I will see you later.”
He glanced rather seductively at her. “You surely will.”
He winked at her and was gone. Diara watched him go, sighing rather dreamily. But she shook herself of the daydreams, so deliriously happy for the first time in her life. It was as if Roi de Lohr had opened up an entirely new world to her, one with a big family of people who were kind to her, and most importantly, of women who were kind to her. That was something of an anomaly in her world. A marriage she was dreading, at least at first, had turned into something she was looking forward to more than she could express. Everything about Roi made her sing.
Especially her heart.
The stairs in the keep of Lioncross were wide, at a rather low angle, so it seemed to take some time to make it from floor to floor. She wasn’t paying much attention to her trip up the stairs, still thinking about Roi, still daydreaming over him. She eventually reached the second floor, knowing Lady Hereford’s chambers to be on the top floor where there was the best view, but as she headed up the next flight of stairs, she could hear voices in the stairwell below her. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought it might have been Tiberius again. She was coming to recognize his voice.
“…and I am telling you that she has bewitched Uncle Roi,” he was saying. “You saw how he scolded me. You saw the look in his eye. That Cheltenham chit has done something to the man. He was prepared to kill me.”
“It is quite possible that he is simply happy,” another voice said. “You cannot blame the man. He’s been alone for so long, and now he has a pretty young lass to warm his bed? Of course he’s happy. You should be happy for him.”
“Uncle Roi loved Aunt Odette deeply,” Tiberius said, sounding snappish. “She is the only woman for him. The only wife he ever needed, a fine and gentle creature. And now that le Bec bitch has schemed her way into his bed. Uncle West told me that she has a loose reputation, if you know what I mean. Apparently she is not a stranger to spreading her legs.”
“Is that what you think she did to Uncle Roi?”
“It has to be,” Tiberius said. “Why else would he want her so badly? She ensnared Beckett somehow, and when he died, she went after his father. Let us face the facts, lads—Uncle Roi is marrying a whore.”
The voices faded away after that. Diara was frozen on the stairwell above them, her eyes filling with tears. Ashamed and horrified, she went back down the stairs and down another corridor, running blindly in a castle she wasn’t familiar with. All she knew was that she had to get out of there.
She found a stairwell and rushed down the stone steps, too fast, and ended up slipping at the bottom and scraping her hand. Those stairs led to the kitchens, and she rushed through the steamy room, past people she wouldn’t look at, and out into the kitchen yard beyond.
But she kept going.
The stables were attached to the kitchen yard, and she entered the stables from a small door at the end of the block. Immediately, she was hit with the smell of horses and hay and urine. But she kept moving, weeping, wiping at her face, until she came to the other end of the stable block and could go no more. There was a ladder here that led up to the loft, and she climbed up into it, shielded from the world around her.
Plopping down into the hay, she sobbed.
It wasn’t enough that Roi’s nephews were opposed to her marrying their uncle, but it was like a stab to the gut to hear that Roi’s own brother had been speaking on the rumors that had followed her ever since her days at Carisbrooke. How were she and Roi supposed to start a life together if his family thought she was a whore who had ensnared him? Surely Lady Hereford and her daughters had heard the rumors, too, and although they were friendly to her, what on earth were they saying behind her back?
It was just so incredibly hurtful to hear such things. Diara was beginning to wonder if she simply shouldn’t leave for home and stop dreaming that a marriage to Roi was even possible, because no matter where she went, the rumors would follow. No matter whom she married, surely, they would hear such things.
It simply wasn’t fair.
As she sat in the hayloft and sniffled, a head suddenly popped up at the top of the ladder. Startled, Diara found herself looking at a young girl.
“Are you well?” the girl asked timidly. “I saw you run through. Are you hurt?”
Diara knew Roi’s youngest daughter, Dorian, on sight. She had been introduced to both Adalia and Dorian when she arrived at Lioncross, but the girls had made themselves scarce and she hadn’t seen them since. Adalia evidently liked to spend all of her time tending to the youngest de Lohr grand- and great-grandchildren, and Dorian had spent all of her time in the stable. Roi had mentioned that the lass was mad for horses and the stable was her favorite place in the world, so rather than force the girls to get to know their future stepmother, he’d simply left them where they were the happiest. They’d just lost a brother, and he wanted them to remain where they were most comfortable for now. Time with Diara would come later, when they were ready.
Diara understood that, and she agreed with him, but the result was that she didn’t know her future stepdaughters at all. She didn’t even know how much she should say to them, or not say to them, so she quickly wiped at her face and tried to force a smile.
“I am well, thank you for asking,” she said. “You are Lady Dorian, are you not?”
Dorian nodded. She was a tall girl for her age, with dark hair and her father’s blue eyes. “Aye,” she said. “Are…are you hiding up here?”
Diara sighed faintly. “Mayhap a little,” she said. “Do you ever feel like that? Like hiding?”
Dorian shrugged, sort of, as if unsure how to answer. “I will leave you if you want to hide.”
“Nay,” Diara said quickly. “Please do not go. Will… will you come up here and sit with me? We’ve not had a chance to talk since I arrived.”
Dorian debated on that request for a couple of moments before finally climbing to the top of the ladder and into the loft. She sat down near the ladder well, crossing her legs and looking at Diara with some uncertainty.
“Your father told me that you like horses a great deal,” Diara said, trying to make conversation. “Do you have a favorite horse?”
Dorian nodded. “Her name is Hildr.”
Diara cocked her head curiously. “That is an interesting name,” she said. “Is she named for someone?”
“A Valkyrie.”
“You know about Valkyries?”
Dorian nodded. “I learned about them,” she said. “When I lived at Pelinom Castle, they had many books, and I was taught to read. I read about the old gods and the Valkyries.”
“Are you interested in reading about things like that?”
“I am,” Dorian said, seemingly warming up to the conversation a little. “I like stories.”
“Do you have your own books?”
“Some,” Dorian said. “But I… I like to tell stories, too. I like to write them down.”
Diara smiled faintly. “What do you write about?”
Dorian shrugged. “Things,” she said, either embarrassed or shy about it. “I wrote a story about a fae named Flit.”
“Flit? I like that name.”
“She lived in a bluebell and rode on the back of a bee.”
Diara’s smile grew. “I think that’s lovely,” she said. “Will you read it to me someday?”
Dorian looked at her, shocked. “You want to hear it?”
“I would. But only if you want me to hear it.”
Dorian seemed encouraged by that. “I wrote another story about a lass who falls into a well and shrinks to the size of a bug,” she said. “She lives in the well with the other bugs, and they crown her the queen of the well.”
Diara laughed softly. “How wonderful,” she said. “Was she happy there?”
“She loved the well, and when it rained, she would dance on the water like the other bugs.”
“What is her name?”
“Echo.”
“That is an interesting name.”
“It’s because her voice bounces off the sides of the well when she talks.”
“I think that is very clever,” Diara said. “Your father did not tell me he had such a clever daughter.”
Dorian’s smile faded. “My father does not know about my stories,” she said. “I do not think he would like them.”
“Why not?”
“Because he is very busy,” Dorian said. “He does not have time for things like that.”
“Have you ever asked him if he would like to hear your stories?”
Dorian simply shook her head and averted her gaze, and Diara sensed a very timid and lonely girl. Diara didn’t know what Roi’s relationship with his daughters was like, and, truthfully, he didn’t seem like a disconnected father, but she did notice that he let his mother take charge of his girls. He had since Diara had known him. Perhaps it was because he simply didn’t know how to raise girl children, or perhaps it was as Dorian said—he was too busy. Whatever the reason, Diara felt a little sorry for quiet, lonely Dorian.
“Well,” she said briskly, “I will listen to your stories whenever you wish. I would like to know what happened to Flit and Echo. Will you tell me sometime?”
Dorian nodded. “I will,” she said. “If you really want to hear.”
“I do, very much. Do you have more stories you wish to write?”
Dorian was flushing, having difficulty looking at Diara because they were on a subject she never spoke of for fear of ridicule. “I… I want to write a story about a lady who rides lightning and chases horses in the clouds,” she said. “I even drew a picture of her, once, but the priest found the picture and told me it was wicked to draw such things.”
Diara’s smile faded. “What priest?”
“At Pelinom Castle,” Dorian said. “That is where I fostered. He came to give mass every Sunday, and he spent hours talking to us. Some of the other wards fell asleep, but I drew a picture. The lady who rides lightning is called Helen. If I ever have a daughter someday, I want to name her Helen.”
“A true and lovely name,” Diara said. “And the priest was wrong. It is not wicked of you to draw those things. It shows that you are bright and extraordinary. Would you like for me to send him a missive and tell him so?”
Dorian’s eyes widened. “Are you not afraid of priests?”
Diara shook her head. “They are simply men,” she said. “And, between you and me, men can be wrong sometimes.”
She giggled, causing Dorian to grin. After a moment, Dorian moved from where she’d been sitting next to the ladder and came over to plant herself next to Diara. As they gazed at each other, Dorian slipped her hand into Diara’s.
“Would you like me to tell you about Helen and her cloud horses?” she asked.
Diara squeezed her cold, soft hand. “I would, indeed. Please tell me.”
Dorian, the lonesome little de Lohr, did.