Page 83 of Shadows of Winter

A chime sounded, startling Kaylina into rolling away from the blankets to grab her sling. Thus far, none of the noises in this place had led to anything good.

“Is that… the door chime?” Frayvar asked.

“I don’t know. Nobody has ever rung the chime when I’ve been here.” She hadn’t known there was a chime. “Or knocked. Unless you count the girl who pelted the door with silverware.”

“People aren’t eager to come up to the keep.” Frayvar pushed himself to his feet, but he waved for her to go first to check on it.

After his night, Kaylina couldn’t blame him. She straightened her rumpled sleep clothes, combed her fingers through her hair, and then did the same for Frayvar, who hadn’t seen a barber since long before they’d left home and looked scruffy.

“Ew, touching.” He tried to pull away from her.

“I’m not hugging you. Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“It’s wonderful that you understand me and are considerate of my preferences.”

“Oh, shush.” She punched him in the shoulder before hurrying for the front door, though she didn’t know if she cared about missing a caller. It might be that Jana, coming again to smile and wish them luck while spying on them.

When Kaylina opened the door, a tidy gray-haired man holding an umbrella and wearing a chauffeur’s uniform stood halfway back to the gate, poised to flee the rest of the way. A silver-trimmed black carriage with four magnificent horses harnessed to it waited in the street. An emblem that was somewhat familiar—had she seen it before in a history book?—marked the side with a sword crossed over an ancient war horn.

Since the chauffeur’s gaze was toward the tower window, he didn’t notice Kaylina. Thanks to the darkness of the day, the red glow was evident.

“If you’re here for a meal or mead tasting, they won’t start until…” Until when? If she or Frayvar had an inkling of sanity, they would call everything off until they could figure out how to remove the curse from the castle. Or at least ensure it wouldn’t result in guests being stricken unconscious. Or worse. “Later,” she finished.

The chauffeur looked at her, his mouth opening slightly—in surprise?—when he took in her rumpled sleep clothes. What had he expected? A perfectly made-up woman in an impeccable dress?

“Are you… Kaylina Korbian?”

“Yup.”

“The woman who began ranger training yesterday with Lord Vlerion?”

“Yup.” Kaylina tensed, realizing the man might have been sent to drag her to ranger headquarters. But this looked like a nobleman’s carriage, not one of the city taxis.

The chauffeur looked her up and down again, as if he couldn’t believe he had the right person. Kaylina was tempted to shut the door but noticed a second man waiting by the carriage. Muscular, scarred, and armed, he wore the same uniform but looked like someone sent along to deal with disrespectful commoners.

“Very well. I’ve been sent by Lady Isla of Havartaft to retrieve you for a meeting at her estate.”

“Uh. Who is that, and where is her estate?”

The chauffeur blinked slowly a few times. “You don’t know where Havartaft Estate is?”

“I’m not from around here.”

After another moment of consideration, during which he possibly noticed her darker skin, he said, “I see. The estate is approximately one hour’s ride to the north in a rich agricultural valley that extends from the Strait of Torn Towers to the west and the foothills of the Evardor Mountains to the east.”

That was more detail than Kaylina had expected. She didn’t know if the chauffeur was precise by nature or wanted her to have an idea of how much land the Havartafts owned and be impressed. With the mountains looming close to the water in places, she wasn’t sure it was as vast as it sounded.

“You may wish to change into more… respectable attire for the meeting,” he suggested.

It wasn’t enough to say my lord—or lady? Her clothes had to be respectful too?

“You don’t think Lady What’s-it would like my floral-pattern pajamas? These are Vamorkan trumpet flowers.” Kaylina touched her hem. “Bees love them.”

His lips pressed together. As a chauffeur, he probably wasn’t nobility himself, but maybe he felt so deeply loyal to the Havartafts that he believed his life would end if he delivered an inappropriately dressed visitor to the estate. Or maybe they flogged servants who didn’t perform adequately.

“Look, I don’t know anything about a meeting, and I’ve got a lot to do today. I appreciate you coming all the way down to get me—” that was a lie, “—but I need to help my brother peel vegetables. We’re opening our eating house tonight.” Maybe. The courtyard part. “Oh, how about you tell Lady Havartaft about our mead? Do you want me to give you samples to take home? Maybe she won’t be irked with you for not collecting me if you show up with a goodie bag.” Kaylina remembered that Targon hoped her new meadery would attract commoners with ties to the Virts, not aristocrats, but she didn’t care. She wanted all people to enjoy her mead.

“Ms. Korbian. You will come to this meeting. It is of grave importance.”

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