Page 72 of Bold Angel
That she no longer cared.
When Marta knocked, she stood ready, pulling open the door with a pasted-on smile, her auburn hair brushed and gleaming within its silken snood.
Marta nodded her approval. “I had hoped you would not let him defeat you.”
“He has defeated himself.”
Marta smiled. “There is time to spare before the meal. Lord Ral was late in his return from the hunt.”
“Where is he now?” Caryn asked, her voice carefully controlled.
“In the solar. He bathes, as does Lord Stephen and Francois de Balmain. When they are finished they will go down to supper.”
Caryn nodded. “I will walk for a time.” It would help ease her tension, and she had grown anxious to be away from her chamber. Marta raised a hand to her cheek but said nothing more. Caryn walked past her, heading down the corridor toward the great hall. When she reached the top of the stairs, she paused, seeing that Lynette sat by the fire pit.
Though she tried to will it not to, her bottom lip trembled and tears stung her eyes. Turning she walked back the way she had come, passing her quarters and continuing along the passage until she reached the stairs at the opposite end. These led upward, out onto the parapet, a narrow spot used by archers to protect the keep during siege.
Standing outside the tower, she leaned back against the cold gray stone. A stiff wind blew up along the walls, and made a funny keening through the machicolation, where arrows could be rained on the ground below. It was chilly, though Caryn hardly noticed. She welcomed the breeze to help clear her heart and soul.
She had been there only moments when she heard the latch being lifted on the door. She turned as a young man dressed in the black and white suit of a jester, his face painted in colors to match, stepped through the opening. He jumped when he saw that he wasn’t alone.
“I am sorry, lady. I did not know that you were here.” His black pointed cap tilted forward, jingling the bell at the end. Around his neck another set of bells made a light jingling sound when he moved.
“How did you know of this place?”
“I discovered it last eve after the feasting. There is a place such as this in most keeps. I like the quiet in such places.”
“As do I,” Caryn said. There was something about the boy, something of wisdom in his sparkling green eyes and rough yet slightly lilting voice. It made him seem older than his years.
“You look beautiful this eve,” he said, “yet I sense that you are sad.” He smiled at her, then did a quick little dance, making the bells ring. “’Tis my job to see that you are happy.”
Caryn smiled faintly. “Are you never sad, jester?”
“Aye, lady. There are times I am lonesome for my home, for friends and family I may never see again. But I have face paint to hide my sadness.”
“And I have only my strength of will.”
The jester reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Caryn noticed how soft and supple was his skin.
“But strength is something you have a great deal of, I vow.” He had finely etched features, his handsome face almost pretty were it not for a pair of small protruding ears. “And there is always tomorrow. Who knows what the future may bring?”
“Who, indeed?” Caryn said, forcing herself to smile. But there was little besides bleakness in the future she foresaw. She might have said that to the jester, since he was a stranger and seemed so willing to listen, but when she turned he was gone.
Caryn’s thoughts lingered for a time on the jester, on the youth’s soft hands and bright smile, but there was her husband to face in the hall below. By now he would be seated on the dais. So far he had not sent for her and she expected that he would not. He was giving her time to accept what another wife would have known from the start—that a marriage was made for naught butheirs. That a husband took his pleasure, but gave nothing of himself in return.
She needed no more time to accept that. The lesson had been most bitterly taught.
At the top of the stairs she forced a smile. She was dressed as a lady, not one so beautiful as Lynette or Eliana, but pretty enough to turn the heads of the men as she moved between the heavily laden trestle tables. Her husband’s gaze was among them, she saw to her surprise. The expression in his blue-gray eyes hit her with the force of a blow, and it took an extra effort to keep her legs moving.
Caryn kept her chin held high and her shoulders squared, smiling to man and maid as she passed, pausing to speak a word here and there. When she reached the dais, Ral stood up and waited while she took her chair.
“I wondered would you join us.” There was an odd edge to his voice. “Your serving woman told us you were ill.” The look that passed between them said he knew it was not so, that he was surprised she had come, and that he wasn’t all that happy about it.
Mayhap he had not wanted to face her any more than she had wanted to face him.
“I hope you are feeling better,” said Lord Stephen. “My sister missed your company.”
“I am fine now. ’Twas only a passing weakness.” She flashed her husband a pointed glance. “I doubt I shall be troubled again.”
