Page 37 of Nightshade

“Fine.”

“Of course. Forgive my intrusion. I’m certain you have a lot on your plate at the moment.”

“I do.”

“Yes.” With a nod, she turned toward the door, but to my utter disappointment, she paused and twisted back around. “But, um … I couldn’t help but notice … you sent all those women away. Again.”

“I did.”

“It’s only my nurturing instincts that leave me questioning if you’re all right.”

Inwardly groaning, I sank further in my chair and sipped my drink. “I told you. I’m fine.”

“Very well. I, um … also noticed you’ve been sleeping quite a bit more than usual?”

“If your inquiries serve a purpose, I suggest you get to it quickly.”

“You seem irritated most at night. And the younger women … they can sense it, as well. It is a woman who consumes you, is it not?”

“I’m no longer interested in nightly trysts with housekeeping and scullery maids.”

Fingers still clasped together, Anya lowered her gaze and shook her head. “And I’m certainly not suggesting you continue with such trysts. The wiles of women can lead a man to madness, after all. We are deviant creatures in that respect. But self-denial follows the same wicked path as obsession--a road that invariably leads to … more violent pleasures.” The way her lips curved with a slight smile left me frowning. “Anyway, I’ll visit the village tomorrow, as you asked, and see if I can find a candidate to care for the dogs.”

“Good. Preferably one who’s good with canines.”

“Of course. Though, that doesn’t seem to make much difference where they’re concerned.”

13

Lustina

Lustina knelt by a gnarled tree trunk that’d fallen in the recent storm. Before her on the ground was a black fledgling--a crow or raven, she guessed—its wing bent at an angle that suggested it was broken. The angry eyes at either side of its too wide beak were not threatening enough for her to leave it to die, and with careful placement of her hands, she lifted the baby into her palms for closer examination. That was when she noticed an unusual, white streak across the bird’s feather that reminded her of a lightning bolt. An aberration of some sort that she found absolutely charming about the bird.

“It is what The Holy Father intended,” Drystan said from behind. “Best to leave it there.”

With her back to him, Lustina rolled her eyes. “Was it not The Holy Father’s plan for me to happen upon it this afternoon, also?”

“You are exceptionally combative when someone questions your intent, aren’t you?”

In slow, gentle strokes, Lustina tried to calm the rapid breathing of the baby, who’d snapped its beak at her a couple of times. “Only when there is an air of command about it. The fact is, it does not matter what The Holy Father intended for this bird. I do not plan to let it die here. And I shall take that up with Him this evening, in prayer. Without your commentary.”

“I do not know how to take you sometimes, Lustina. How can someone be so rudely passionate yet gentle? It is such an odd combination.”

“One that suits me.” She chuckled, relieved when the bird finally relented its attack on her thumb.

“What is this?”

The sound of his voice sent a shudder down her spine, and Lustina turned to find the young baron standing only a few steps away from them. Like the soldiers she had frequently encountered at the gate, he wore bracers at his wrists, and a black leather brigandine vest which showed off particularly large muscles for a boy his age. The kind she had only seen on blacksmiths and men who toiled in the fields all day. The baron’s were more of a distraction than she cared to admit.

“What do you have there?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Lustina tucked the bird into the pocket of her apron and stood to face the wretched boy.

“You are lying.” The baron held out his hand to her. “Hand over what is hidden in your pocket.”

“No.”

“Lustina, just hand it over,” Drystan urged from where he stood off to the side. “It is not worth the consequence.”