Page 38 of Rogue's Pawn (Covenant of Thorns 1)

“Lady Gwynn, we ride out in a new day. Your dark time is past. I won’t say I’m sorry for my role in it, because it was necessary. However, know this—you may be bound by a debt of service, but you are no slave. Just do your duty by Lord Falcon and take pleasure in your life where you can find it.”

I found my voice, so little used lately. “You surprise me, Lord Puck.”

“Do I?” A pleased grin flashed across his face. “Good! Living is about surprises. A life without fun isn’t worth living. Here.” He sidled his horse nearer to mine, fished a little golden bell out of his pocket and affixed it to my horse’s bridle. It hung there, jingling with each footstep. “Now you’ll arrive with bells on!”

He cocked his head to the side, like a little boy trying to catch my eye. I watched the foolish little bell.

“I’m not sure what to make of this personality change.”

“Not a change—just situation-appropriate. We all answer to someone, lady. Inciting merriment among the merry-less is one of my own callings—I take it very seriously.”

“Odd that you go to war then.”

“Oh no, not at all—it’ll be grand fun. You’ll see!”

Darling agreed, sending an image of a spiked collar with a brass breastplate for my consideration. Puck launched into a song that seemed to be about apples and pigs, but made no real sense to me.

I let my heart unclench a little.

Castle Brightness did indeed shine brilliantly. Fairy-tale turrets gleamed golden against the emerald hills and verdant apple orchards below. It was the first building I’d approached while conscious in this world. I’d never even seen Rogue’s fortress from the outside, and I’d been at Marquise and Scourge’s for who knows how long before I saw anything but that tower room.

Taking Puck’s advice, I soaked in the view as our horses stepped lightly on the winding road down the hill. I still couldn’t put my finger on that deeper quality to all the colors. It was like a plasma-screen version of the world, with just a little more contrast, composed of cells of light. Rather than reflecting light here, everything seemed to just glow. A kind of otherworld phosphorescence.

Bright trumpets signaled our arrival, flushing flocks of blackbirds from the orchards. They swirled, glinting, a living cloud of mica, then added their fluting calls to the heralds, as they dove around the fluttering pennants on the towers. Everything seemed suffused with a dreamlike quality, as if I was still suffering from the soul-killing timelessness of Marquise and Scourge’s world. As if I’d never fully wakened. I pressed more firmly on my pulse. It was solid and real, echoing the soft thuds of my horse’s hooves.

A group of people assembled in the wide and gracious courtyard before the castle gates. Darling jumped down as soon as we reined up, flicking his tail in a casual goodbye, sending me a little reminder image of a golden floor littered with bloody mice.

And, surprise, there was Lady Blackbird, calling a hello to Darling and flashing an amused smile when he ignored her. Then with a delighted greeting she was at my stirrup, waiting for me to dismount.

Which was, indeed, quite painful.

“The first day riding is always so difficult,” she tutted, embracing me.

I tried not to wince when she touched my back. I would be grateful when I finished healing. Puck’s people had offered me a healer’s services. I had declined.

“I didn’t expect you here, Lady Blackbird?”

She folded her hands with a pleased look. “Lord Rogue let me return home, as part of your boon to me.” She patted my arm. “Lady Gwynn, may I present to you my daughter, Starling.”

“Greetings, Lady Starling.” I nodded gravely to the brown-haired woman who stood eagerly at her mother’s side, surveying her through the veil. She seemed to be a little older than a teenager, but hard to say what that meant here. If the fairy stories were at all true, these people were immortal, forever youthful. I had yet to see anyone elderly, but there was certainly a maturity difference between Blackbird and Starling.

“Oh not lady, just Starling,” she said. “I’m a half-breed, you know.”

Interesting. Her limbs did lack that slightly out-of-proportion look. Her cheekbones were more flat, with a scattering of Lucy Liu freckles beneath eyes that matched the snapping dark gloss of her mother’s.

“Lady Gwynn,” Lord Puck called, “I see the ladies have you in hand. Do what you like this afternoon. We’ll see you for the evening meal.” He ambled off with a laughing group of men.

With an apology, Blackbird excused herself to see to the feast preparations.

Starling offered to show me to my room. “You’ll change out of your traveling clothes and we can have cocktails!” she enthused.

Cocktails—how funny that her word for wine, which I recognized by the sound, translated as “cocktails” in my head. I hadn’t had a drink since that sickly plum wine at Rogue’s banquet. Talk about enforced rehab.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a charity case,” I confessed as we walked through the gleaming hallways. “I’m wearing all I have.” Though I’d have just loved to ditch the shapeless traveling robe, in my adopted oatmeal color, it was certainly better than what I’d barely been wearing recently.

“Oh, didn’t Puck—I mean, Lord Puck—” Starling glanced around to be sure her mother hadn’t heard her slip, “—tell you? Since my mother is your seneschal-in-absentia, she took care of assembling your wardrobe.” She grabbed my arm excitedly. “All new clothes!”

“Seneschal?” I asked.

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