Old Magic(75)

One particular cauldron interests me. I feel drawn to it. Rhauk’s eyes follow me around the room. I sense I have the curse at my fingertips, and wonder how difficult it is to brew, what ingredients stir inside it. Jillian would be able to tell me.

I step right up to the cauldron for a closer look. At first I’m disappointed. It’s only red wine. Rhauk is making red wine up here. I look at him. ‘Where’s the curse? You said you were brewing it.’

‘You are looking at it, my dear.’

I point into the cauldron. ‘That’s red wine.’

‘Ah, yes, so it is.’

My brow furrows deeply as I study his smug attitude. I look again at the wine, and it hits me. ‘My God, it’s the wine. You brewed the curse into the wine.’ It stuns me.

He laughs with boyish excitement. ‘You are clever. But never as clever as me, my Lady. This wine will quench the thirst of Thorntyne blood for generations. It’s the quality you see,’ he explains, gloating. ‘Ahh, it is so smooth, so sweet, only Lord Richard himself, his immediate family, and perhaps a few treasured guests along the way, will be honoured to drink it.’

I know this plan will work. After all, this is the curse that goes on to haunt Thorntyne generations for over eight hundred years. Its simplicity is superb. The wine at Thorntyne Keep is rough and very dry. Lord Richard will treasure this brew, hoarding it for himself and the only other thing he loves – his family. There’s just one thing I want to know. ‘What makes you think Lord Richard will accept this wine from you? Won’t he be suspicious?’

‘My dimwitted half-brother will think this wine is a gift from the King.’

‘You have everything covered, don’t you?’

He arches one eyebrow high, tilting his head at me. ‘Everything.’

He’s including me. I turn away to one of the many windows. This one looks south, Thorntyne Keep directly in its view. I wonder what Jarrod is doing right now, what he’s thinking. He was outside the gatehouse early this morning. I crane my neck to see, but there’s no one there now, the long track to Thorntyne Keep empty of travellers, disappearing into thick woods. I try a mind probe, needing to feel Jarrod’s strength, assess his condition, but distance has me draw a blank. The thought occurs, maybe he died, from the wounds the crow inflicted last night. They could have festered and poisoned him. I remember in a sudden panic how much blood is on my nightgown. My fingers automatically trace the now dry stains.

‘He lives,’ Rhauk suddenly says, startling me. For a second I think he can read my mind. But then I realise my emotions are there on my face as I gaze across to Thorntyne Keep. I glare at Rhauk, hating him with my eyes. He ignores me. ‘But the fool boy wasted his energy trying to reclaim you this morning after he lost so much blood last night. Richard should have warned him there is no way into Blacklands without an invitation.’

My anger simmers over. ‘You did this to him!’

‘Tsk, tsk,’ he croons, stroking the crow’s face lovingly. ‘It was not me, my Lady, but the crow. You must remember.’

‘That crow last night was you!’

He pretends a shocked look, his mouth hanging open. ‘Surely you jest.’

‘How did you do it?’ My skin prickles with the knowledge that only the most powerful sorcerers of legend have this ability. Even though I grew up with magic, just thinking about the art of shapeshifting makes me shudder. It isn’t human. ‘How did you transform into the shape of a crow?’

His black eyes glow eerily for a second. ‘Stay with me, Kate, and I will show you. No! I will teach you.’

I shiver at the mere thought. ‘I don’t want to turn into a bird, or anything else thank you.’

‘Ah, well, ultimately the choice will be yours.’ He turns his back and reaches for something on the bench top. It’s a full length brown cloak. He throws it at me. ‘You have till sunset to make your decision. For now,’ he bows down at the waist, extending his arm in a mock gesture of greeting royalty, ‘you are my honoured guest. Let us break our fast, then I will show you the rest of Blacklands.’

Numb, I follow, throwing the cloak around my shivering shoulders, grateful for its warmth and protection as I accompany Rhauk.

It’s not until much later that I find myself alone in my room. There are clothes laid out on the bed, a simple blue gown, but elegant in its simplicity, the fabric soft and silky. There are underthings as well, and soft leather boots. I’m reluctant to put anything on that belongs to Rhauk, but I need the clothes, if only to make myself more comfortable in Rhauk’s presence.