Hastings wished she could stay and ask him to tell her of every happening in his master’s life since his seventeenth year, but she couldn’t. It was late. The servants needed instruction. She needed to speak with MacDear the cook, a brawny Scotsman who had a special way with roasted capon and honeyed almonds. His use of spices rivaled her own knowledge of them.
She leaned down and lightly touched her fingers to Severin’s cheek, felt the coolness, and left him with Gwent. He was sleeping deeply now. He would live.
5 4
QM
w
“T know,” Severin said to Graelam. “You must leave. You and your Imen grow restless.”
“I will leave on the morrow when I am convinced you will have the fever no more. Hastings has told me you won’t, but she isn’t always right. I must visit Edward in London to tell him that all has gone well.”
“I hope that whoreson Richard de Luci rides away from Oxborough.”
Graelam said as he smoothed on his gauntlets, “The man you spared will tell him the Oxborough heiress is both wedded and bedded, that is certain. There is nothing for him here. I worry only that he might try to assassinate you, for he is a mangy coward, so greedy it is said he dug the gems from his father’s sword handle before he allowed him to be buried. Northbert told me he’d heard it said that de Luci poisoned his wife but that she didn’t die speedily enough, thus he was late getting to Oxborough before your wedding to Hastings. It was also said that de Luci would have gladly assisted his wife to a quicker end but the priest stood by her bedside throughout her ordeal.”
‘He should be dispatched to hell, Graelam. When I am back to my
strength, I will do it. Do you know that Hastings made Trist an egg
1 Was boiled just until it was congealed on the inside?”
5 5
“How do you know that?”
“He brought it to show me. She had cracked the top of the egg so he could easily shuck it aside. He ate it on my chest. He even let it cool a bit so it wouldn’t burn me.”
Graelam was still laughing when Hastings came into the bedchamber, carrying a tray on her arms. Severin saw her smile at Graelam, a full easy smile, a lovely smile that showed straight white teeth. Then she looked at him. Her smile fell away as she neared the bed. He didn’t care if she ever smiled at him, damn her. She would fulfill her role-the one he would assign her as soon as he was on his feet again-and that was all he wanted from her.
She said nothing, merely set the tray down on the bed beside him, then leaned down and gently laid her palm on his forehead. He brought up his hand and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.
“I am not fevered.”
“No,” she said, withdrawing from him even though she did not move a finger, “I can see that you are not.”
“Damn you, do not treat me like a puking old man who has not the wit to gainsay you.”
She straightened. He released her hand. “I have brought you food. MacDear is the Oxborough cook. He is excellent. He has prepared you bafteyiiroth. You will eat the broth, if it pleases you to do so. If you do not wish to eat it, why then, throw it into the rushes. My lord Graelam, Northbert wishes to speak to you.”
Graelam stared at the two of them. Hastings, that confiding girl he’d known for ten years, warm and laughing, always humming and singing, rarely showing fear because her father usually ignored her. He’d struck her only in moments he lacked control. Perhaps it would have been better had Fawke thrashed her more often, even threatened to beat her as he had his wife. Then she would treat Severin with more deference. She would tread more warily around him. Now she was dignified as a matron and stiff as Severin’s onyx-handled sword. She didn’t look like she’d
5 6
n Dend in a strong wind, much less bend to a man’s will, much less a husband’s will.