Page 85 of Shadows of Winter

“I am not privy to such information, Ms. Korbian.”

“You can call me Kaylina.”

“That would not be appropriate.”

“Are you sure? I’m not noble. You may have noticed.”

“You are a guest of the family.”

Kaylina paused at a painting in a more modern style than the others with bright colors that hadn’t faded with time. A lake with mountains in the background showed battles taking place on opposing banks. On one side, men with swords and bows battled beasts and Kar’ruk. On the other side, men in ranger blacks fought other men and used firearms and cannons as well as blades.

“That is a recent addition,” a woman said from a nearby doorway. “We had it done to honor my son.”

She was pale, a somber black dress making the lightness of her skin more pronounced, with her face lean and plain. Gray mingled with the auburn in her hair, the locks swept back to the nape of her neck in a ponytail. She didn’t wear any jewelry, and the simple clothing didn’t bespeak riches or pretension.

A couple of old scars—claw marks?—traced the side of her neck, one disappearing below the collar of her dress. Had the estate been attacked by the fearsome predators that came down out of the mountains?

“Vlerion?” Kaylina asked before remembering the lost brother he’d spoken of.

“Vlarek.” She—Lady Isla of Havartaft, presumably—studied Kaylina with the same curiosity that Kaylina studied her. “You are not what I expected.”

“Yeah, I got that from the chauffeur who implied you’d be deathly offended if I showed up in pajamas.”

Isla smiled faintly, no lipstick or other makeup brightening her face. “I am not easily offended. My mother attends many social functions and cares about such things, but after all I’ve endured, I am unconcerned by propriety.”

Yes, if she’d lost a son, what would lesser things matter? And those scars… Maybe the estate was attacked regularly. The rangers had to protect the lands of the nobles, as well as patrolling the borders, but Vlerion had suggested there weren’t enough men these days to handle all that their duties required.

“I’m sorry you lost your son,” Kaylina said. “How long ago did it happen?”

“Oh, some years back now. Almost a decade. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long. Someone once told me that wounds heal with time, but I’ve found that scars never go away, and they often ache in the deep of the night. We lost Avaron in the same year. After his son’s passing, he struggled to control his emotions, and… that is often the end for those cursed.”

“I… don’t understand,” Kaylina said, though if Isla had lost her husband too, no wonder she was grim.

“I wondered if he’d said anything to you.”

“Vlerion.” This time, Kaylina felt certain of her guess. “I don’t know him that well.”

“No? Beatrada thought you might have become close.” Isla considered her again. “I’m a little surprised, as he’s usually wise enough to avoid female entanglements, and you don’t seem… Well, no, you’re beautiful, certainly, and there’s an exoticness about you.”

“Er.” The assessment made Kaylina blush with embarrassment—and discomfort. “I think—who did you say?—gave you the wrong idea. Vlerion doesn’t like me. When we first met, he arrested me and my brother.” She didn’t mention hitting him on the head with a sling round. A mother might not approve of that. “Then his taybarri kept coming to visit me, and that irks him. Now, I’m supposed to be training as a ranger, and he’s supposed to be my teacher, and he doesn’t want to do it. Really, I don’t think he likes me at all. By the way, if you can do anything about it, I don’t want to be a ranger. I’m a mead maker. I brought some if you want to try it.”

“Certainly. We make mead here with the honey.”

Kaylina kept herself from suggesting hers would be better since that would be arrogant. And who knew? Maybe there was a master mead maker among the staff or family. “I noticed the hives.”

Isla’s gaze shifted down the hallway as the woman who’d taken the bottles walked toward them with a tray holding four glasses, two filled with the lighter-hued dry mead and two with the darker sweet. There were also three small silver plates containing cookies and pastries.

“Mead that the lady brought, my lady.” The woman ducked her head as she formally held out the tray. Her eyes twinkled, and she winked at Kaylina as she added, “It’s very good!”

Apparently, she was the taster.

“Raldo agrees,” the woman added. “And Trager.”

“Trager the stallion?” Isla raised her eyebrows.

“He came to the kitchen door with his nostrils twitching.”

“And here I thought only the taybarri had noses for mead,” Kaylina murmured.

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