Witches in Red

Chapter Sixteen

Just over three weeks later, in the late afternoon, Jaromir led a contingent of seventeen of his own men, two seers, and four Móndyalítko wagons back inside the inner gates of Sèone.

He’d never been so glad to see the familiar village.

Without stopping, he led the wagons to an open area out behind the smithy where there was enough room for the families to make camp. He figured they’d need some time to rest and buy supplies for winter, and then he could take them out and show them the homestead.

Once the wagons were pulling into position, he dismissed his men, and he watched Céline slide down from her saddle and hand her mare off to one of the guards. Amelie was already on the ground, helping Mercedes to back her team of horses into place.

Jaromir dismounted as well, standing beside Céline and watching Amelie work. They were both quiet for a while, and then Céline looked up at him.

“I know the prince is waiting for a more detailed report . . . but could I give mine tomorrow? I want to go and check on the shop and see my own things and sleep in my own bed.”

He paused. He knew Anton would be waiting for a full report, but this was the first thing Céline had asked of him since Ryazan. He owed her at least one night’s rest.

“Of course. I’ll give him my report tonight, and that should be sufficient for now.”

“Thank you.”

Amelie was now helping to unharness a team of horses and talking with Mercedes. Then Mariah and Graham came around the side of the wagon to help. Back in Ryazan, young Graham had asked to be permanently released from duty so he could travel here with Mariah, and it hadn’t taken Jaromir long to get Keegan to agree.

“You’ve done a good thing here,” Céline said.

“It was Amelie’s idea. When I asked her what she wanted, this was it.”

“Yes, but you agreed. You made it happen.”

He had, hadn’t he?

“Well, it looks like Amelie is going to be here awhile,” he said. “Can I give you a ride home?”

“No.” She smiled weakly and put both hands to her back. “I’d much rather walk.”

He nodded and watched her leave. She was an astonishing woman, much stronger than she looked.

Then his gaze shifted back to Amelie as she climbed up on top of a wagon, unlashed a wooden box, and dropped it down into Mercedes’s waiting arms.

Amelie.

She’d borrowed some spare clothes and was now back in breeches—with the pant legs rolled up—and a man’s shirt, and she appeared much more comfortable. He’d never known anyone like her, all fire and flint and softness at the same time. She could be incredibly selfish in one moment and astoundingly giving in the next.

A strong urge hit him to climb up on top of that wagon and help her unload, to do nothing more than work by her side and spend the rest of the afternoon helping her to get these people settled.

But he turned away, leading his horse up toward the castle. He had a report to give.

Not long past sunset, Céline was in her shop, dusting out bowls and getting her tools ready to begin work again. She’d been gone for some time, and the herb garden would need tending.

Amelie hadn’t come home yet.

Though Céline relished the respite of solitude, she wasn’t completely on her own. Her orange cat, Oliver—who was normally not demonstrative—was so pleased to see her that he continued rubbing against her legs. A bowl on the floor near the door contained water and another held the remnants of fresh milk. Céline thought that she must do something special for Erin for having tended to him for so long.

However, Oliver’s rubbing soon began to make her feel guilty. Though he’d been cared for while she was away, had he been lonely?

“Yes, I’m glad to see you, too.” She patted the top of the worktable. “Come up here for a while. Just don’t knock over the candles.”

He jumped up, this time trying to press his face against her hands.

In a way, his attention was a welcome distraction, as it kept her mind from drifting back to all that she and Amelie had been forced to see in Ryazan. As before, she thought it might take a little time to recover.

Tomorrow, she would need to go up to the castle and give her report to Anton. Though she welcomed the prospect of seeing his face, the last thing she wanted to do was relive those early days and nights in the mining camp.

The door to the shop opened, and she looked over in mild annoyance. Of course the people here must have missed their apothecary, but she’d just returned, and who would come at this hour?

A man in a cloak, with his hood pulled up, stepped inside and closed the door. He carried a muslin bag in his left hand.

“I’m sorry,” Céline said. “I won’t be open until tomorrow afternoon at the soonest.”

Reaching up with his free hand, he pulled back his hood, exposing a pale face and dark brown hair.

“My lord . . . ,” she stammered. “I didn’t know . . .”

It was Anton. Had he walked down through the village?

“Don’t distress yourself,” he said. “Jaromir has told me everything that happened in Ryazan, and I couldn’t wait to see you, to thank you.”

She watched him come closer, and she had no idea what to say.

“You accomplished something that no one else could,” he went on, “and you did it in my name. My father is pleased.”

Yes, Céline thought, that had been the reason for all their efforts: to please Anton’s father.

He lifted the bag he was carrying and set it on the table. “I feared insulting you by offering you money or jewels. I know you and Amelie did all this for me and the future of Droevinka. Jaromir told me what Amelie had requested, but that you requested nothing. I wanted . . . I wanted to do something.” Opening the top of the bag, he exposed a thorny vine sitting in dirt. “It’s a velveteen rosebush from Belaski. Helga says that you once told her the petals would make the strongest cough syrup of any rosebush you know, and she also told me that you did not have one.“

By now, he was standing close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek . . . standing too close, really. But, shaken by his thoughtful gesture, she couldn’t take her gaze off the vine. A velveteen rosebush.

“Jaromir told me that you need to rest and recover. Don’t bother coming to offer a report. I know what I need to know, and I won’t ask anything further of you.”

Though she was beyond touched that he’d come down here, by his words, by his thoughtful gift, by his manner . . . by his concern, they both knew this was only a reprieve.

“Until something else happens and you need my abilities?” she whispered.

“Céline,” he breathed back and started to reach out for her hand. His hand stopped in midair, and he took a step away. “Again, I cannot thank you enough.”

He didn’t respond to her question. He didn’t need to.

Still, looking up at him, looking around her shop, she found that she didn’t mind.

When he called her again, she’d answer.