Page 106 of Lady's Knight
Gwen’s eyes wandered, searching the crowds. Isobelle, sensing her distraction, gave her hand a squeeze, and Gwen glanced down and asked, “Where is Sylvie?”
Isobelle eyed her sideways, and then flashed a smile at Jane and Hilde. “I’m peckish for a cheesecake on a stick—we’ll catch up with you later!”
They hadn’t gone far when Isobelle pulled Gwen into a makeshift alley between two stalls. “I’d meant to tell you. I saw her the other day with Olivia, who was taking measurements and cutting some fabric to make her some new dresses. I think that’s probably where she is today—with Olivia.”
Gwen’s brow furrowed in confusion. “New dresses? But... why couldn’t you say that in front of Hilde and Jane?”
Isobelle raised one eyebrow, eyes grave but lips quirked with the faintest of knowing smiles. “They were black dresses, Gwen. Mourning dresses.”
Gwen bit her lip as the implications ofthatstruck her. She’d just seen Sir Ralph the day before, alive and well. “Um...” she said slowly, feeling herself slip back into her old habit of stalling for time when trying to keep up with Isobelle’s mercurial conversational talents. “Olivia... she doesn’treallyassassinate people, does she?”
Isobelle opened her eyes until they were very wide, and veryinnocent. “A lady would never ask such a direct, distasteful question, Gwen. I certainly never have.” The eyes began to sparkle, just a little. “But, I mean, you’re welcome to go ask her if you want.”
Gwen gave a theatrical shudder. “I’d rather fight another dragon, thanks.”
Isobelle laughed, but soon her amusement died away, and she gazed up at Gwen’s face, her own thoughtful as she raised a hand to trace the shape of Gwen’s cheek. The brush of her fingertips made Gwen shiver, and she could feel a flush rising to the spot where Isobelle’s skin had touched hers.
“Are you all right?” Isobelle asked softly. “You’ve been quiet. You’re not having nightmares still, are you?”
Gwen shook her head quickly, squeezing Isobelle’s hand. She’d woken more than once to find Isobelle’s anxious face bending over her in the dark, having come running from her room in response to Gwen’s cries as she fought dragons in her dreams. “No, I just... I can feel it. The people love us right now because we saved them from the dragon, and Whimsitt has to go with it and pretend he’s behind us to avoid them turning on him. He’s a politician, and he’s not stupid. But it’s not going to last forever. I can see the way he looks at me when no one else can see him.”
A part of Gwen quailed, weary and bitter, wondering if she would have to see that look on men’s faces for the rest of her life, every time she stood up when they wanted her to fall fainting to the ground.
Isobelle’s face sobered even more. “I’ve seen it, too,” she admitted. “I guess some men can’t forgive a woman who reveals them to be a fool in noble clothing.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Gwen said. Part of her wished shecould just bury her worries, or at least keep them from Isobelle, because she hated seeing that worry reflected in those luminous eyes. But the rest of her knew that was foolish, even if it wasn’t also unfair. Of the two of them, Isobelle stood a much better chance of strategizing their way through Lord Whimsitt’s machinations. “A matter of time before we’re not welcome here anymore. Somehow, I don’t think we can rely on having a dragon pop out of the ground every time I need a public relations boost.”
Isobelle’s lips quirked, and she said, “When I was searching the castle archives for some loophole about my dowry, I did find something interesting.” Her expression betrayed the tiniest flicker of sadness about her failure to find the loophole she was looking for. “Did you know that this county was originally called Drakhaven?”
Gwen felt her eyebrows rise. “As in, a haven for dragons?”
Isobelle laughed, lifted one of her shoulders in a shrug, and gazed whimsically up at her. “At some point, someone must have thought it’d be a good idea to do some rebranding. But, well, when it comes to dragons popping up, you never know.”
Gwen found herself smiling, though she couldn’t quite banish the chill that ran down her spine at the memory of Whimsitt’s anger whenever he saw her. “I hate leaving our fate up to chance.”
But far from looking afraid, Isobelle just looked thoughtful, her lips pursing slightly. Finally, she said airily, “By the way, I’ve had a letter from Astreta.”
Gwen blinked at her. “The dancer, from the dragon bonfire? The one who danced the part of the knight?”
Isobelle nodded. “She and her troupe are performing in Direcrest, a few hours’ ride north of here. People have been vanishing from the woods near the town, and others are telling tales of alarge, shadowy creature lurking at the edges of the forest. No one in power there believes them.”
Gwen’s heart began to beat a little faster. “Another dragon?” she breathed.
Isobelle’s eyes searched hers. “Or something else entirely. We thought dragons had been extinct for a hundred years. Who’s to say there aren’t more impossible things out there... people only you can help, battles only you can fight?”
Gwen’s mouth had gone dry with a potent mix of anticipation and fear, and she didn’t realize that her grip on Isobelle’s hand had tightened until the other girl gave a squeak of protest. Gwen let her go with a startled oath and an apology, but Isobelle just laughed.
“I’ve always wanted to hit the road and travel, like a hero of old,” she murmured. Instead of taking Gwen’s hand again, Isobelle leaned up against her and slid her arms around Gwen’s neck. “Setting up camp, managing provisions, going town to town questing for glory...”
Gwen could not resist Isobelle when she leaned in like that, and Isobelle knew it—she was watching Gwen with a smug smile, eyes sparking with amusement and no small amount of eager desire. So Gwen kissed her, and for a moment—quite a long moment, actually—she completely forgot what they had been talking about.
When Isobelle pulled away, fingertips toying with a lock of Gwen’s hair, she asked, “What do you think?”
Gwen fought valiantly to recover her breath, and managed to say quite evenly indeed, “I don’t know. Do you think they have cheesecake on a stick in Direcrest?”
Isobelle laughed, glanced out of the mouth of the makeshift market alley, and took Gwen’s hand again. “We ought to eat our fillnow, just in case. Better safe than sorry.”
Gwen could not help but give a sharp huff of laughter. “And better free than safe,” she added. Isobelle squeezed her hand, raised it to her lips, and then pulled her back out into the colorful chaos of the Darkhaven market.