Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

He released her chin, and she backed away. “You will follow me, my lord.”

Graelam watched her walk stiffly, her slender shoulders squared, up the steep oak stairs into the great hall.

What are his plans? she wondered, her mind spinning. Will he continue toying with me?

Graelam’s eyes narrowed upon the black-haired woman who approached them.

“My stepmother, Marie, my lord,” Kassia said in a clipped voice. “Marie, this is my . . . husband, Lord Graelam de Moreton.”

Marie eyed the huge man. He looked utterly fierce and unyielding. “My lord,” she said quietly. “Kassia, your father is in the solarium with his steward. Would you care to fetch him?”

Kassia nodded, thankful to Marie for the chance to escape.

“So,” Graelam said agreeably after Kassia had left, “Maurice has found himself a new wife.”

“And three stepchildren, my lord.”

Graelam remembered Maurice telling him that his seed was lifeless. He had done well for himself. “Excellent,” he said

“Will you not be seated, my lord?”

Graelam sat himself in Maurice’s chair, and watched Marie give quiet orders to the serving wenches. He wondered idly what Kassia thought of her father’s new wife.

“My lord.” Graelam rose from his chair to greet his father-in-law. Maurice was looking at him warily, uncertain, Graelam imagined, just how he should greet his son-in-law.

“Maurice, it is a pleasure to see you again.” He clasped the older man’s shoulders and hugged him briefly.

“You have come to see your wife?”

“Aye, more than that. I am come to take her home to Cornwall.”

“Why?”

It was Kassia who had spat the word at him. He shifted his gaze from Maurice and drank in the sight of his wife. She was regarding him as warily as her father.

“Because,” he said quietly, “you are mine and will always be so. Your father gave you to me.” He saw her eyes narrow with fury, and smiled at her. “However, I understand your wish to visit with your father and your new stepmother for a while. If it pleases your father, we will remain here at Belleterre for several days before we return to Wolffeton.”

Kassia looked helplessly toward her father. Maurice, for the first time in his life, had not a clue as to what he should do. He had to admit to great admiration for Graelam, for the man had ridden up to Belleterre, seemingly without a worry in the world. He would have known, of course, that Maurice’s men could have cut down him and his men had he wished it. But there was his daughter to consider. It was Marie who spoke in her gentle voice.

“We are pleased to welcome you, my lord. You may, if Kassia wishes it, speak to her.”

Maurice added more forcefully, “Aye, Graelam, but you’ll not force my daughter to do anything she does not wish to.”

“It is not my intention ever again to force Kassia to do what she does not want to do.”

I do not believe you! Kassia wanted to yell at him.

Marie said, “Would you care to bathe, my lord? The evening meal will be ready soon.”

Graelam nodded. “Thank you, my lady.” He sought out his wife. “Would you please show me to the proper chamber?”

Maurice saw Kassia hesitate, but he knew that Graelam had no power in Belleterre. “Aye, daughter,” he said crisply. “Accompany Graelam.”

Kassia bit her lip, knowing she had no choice. She tossed her head and marched toward the stairs. She heard Marie giving orders for a bath. She led him to her chamber, pausing a moment inside the room.

“Come in, Kassia,” Graelam said. “I need assistance with my armor.”

“I am not your squire!”