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to turn me back to a human in a hurry either. Especially since, as a man, Gabriel does
still have rights to his wife if he should return."
The wolf jerked and knocked over Llewellyn's goblet. The wise man,
unperturbed, righted the mug, poured himself more wine, and began drawing small
runes in the spilled liquid.
I am not married to Alisoun any longer. I cannot be . . . . I . . . but . . . . Oh God's teeth.
I am still married to that harpy. The wolf huffed. And everyone believes Reynard acted on his
own. No one else knows what a lying, two-face spawn of the devil she is, and if I let myself stay
like this . . . no one ever will.
Llewellyn watched the wolf's thoughts flitting across his dark blue eyes. When
the beast came out of his reverie and looked at the magician, eyes pleading, Llewellyn
grinned. "No one will mark our absence tonight. Let us retire to my workshop. I have
certain relics left over from my days as a mystic. Perhaps some of them will enable you
to tell me what I need to know."
The wolf swiftly hopped down from his chair, leading Llewellyn out to the
garden.
* * * * *
Reynard had rallied his allies around him at table and gathered the scraps of his
dignity to his person. Yet everyone still whispered that he had injured the wolf in some
way. Thankfully, no one had yet come close to the truth. Although that blasted pet
wizard of the king's kept an infuriating eye on him all through dinner.
Reynard shifted in his seat, thinking not for the first time how bloody grateful he
would be to escape back to his own manor. And if all went well with the plan he had set
into motion, by the next convocation of lords, the damned beast would not be here. Or
even alive.
He had seated at his left hand the flighty daughter of some baron. Avice her
name was. She flirted with him, and when he found she was one of the queen's ladies,
good friends with the wolf's companion, he turned his considerable charm on for her
full force and pumped her for information. He might have pumped far more into her
after the meal, but, unfortunately, duty called, and he had plots to carry out. Piecing
together what Avice let fall with things Beatrice had ranted about in her letters, de
Troumper began to see an opportunity.
Lady Avice excused herself graciously from the table, casting an inviting look
over her shoulder at Reynard. Reynard left his seat almost at once, but with much regret
he did not follow Avice. Instead, he wandered from table to table before he "discovered"
an empty seat next to Kathryn in the shadowy corner where she had secluded herself.
She did not perceive Reynard until he said, "Lady Kathryn, is it not? We met last
time I was at court." He slid into the empty seat and eagerly leaned toward her. "And
now you are the caretaker of the king's prized wolf?"
Kathryn looked up in surprise, then recoiled.
Reynard laid a restraining hand on hers when she made to get up. "Ah, now, let
me remind you how improper it would be for you to make a scene here." He flashed her
a grin. "My lady."
She frowned at him but sat back on the bench.
Reynard released her fingers and smiled into the pale green eyes, which only
glared daggers back at him. "An intelligent woman." He sneered. "What a rare find in
these times. So, you are the wolf's . . . ?"
"Friend," she said, denying any impropriety with the bluntness of her tone and
the direct regard of her gaze.
"Ah, yes, of course." Reynard selected a large piece of pheasant from the platters.
He proceeded to rend the leg, and just as much of the meat ended up in his mouth as
did in his beard and clothing. "You know," he said around the meat before swallowing,
"the beast is naught but a simple wolf."
Kathryn turned and smiled innocently back at him. "Did I ever say otherwise, my
lord?"
Reynard grinned at her, and she looked away from him in obvious revulsion.
Unperturbed, he continued. "But if the wolf were other than he seemed, say, a certain
knight." He paused and picked some dirt out from one of his fingernails with his dinner
knife before he spoke again. "If he were that knight, say, who has been missing these
two years from our king's court, well, then it is only natural he should try to kill me."
With relish, Kathryn feigned surprise. "But, why, good sir, unless you betrayed
him in some way?" She tilted her eyebrow up with just the right combination of cool
haughtiness and defiant challenge to deter a thousand forward knights. The queen
would have done well to match her hauteur.
"You poor, dear girl." He caressed her wrist. "He still loves her, of course." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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