If she didn’t care for her father’s good opinion, Jahna would find some ready excuse to hide in her room and wait there until their visitors returned to their home. Twice a year, Lord Uzbec showed up unannounced and uninvited to Hollowfell, throwing the household into chaos as they tried to prepare for his visit with no notice.
He was a dull man, with a great appreciation for Uhlfrida’s wine cellar and the gullet to prove it. He was, however, her father’s longtime friend, and Marius always welcomed his company, even when it was unexpected. Jahna simply settled in for a tedious visit that would consist of Uzbec clucking in sympathy for his friend every time he looked at Jahna, and the new wife gawking at her as much as the old wife had.
The gown the maid brought hugged her shape, its color—a pale shade of lavender—contrasting with the gold highlights in her hair. No gown could offset or lighten the dramatic stain on her face, but the sweep of her hairstyle did hide some of it.
“There, my lady. All done,” the maid declared and met Jahna’s eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “I think Lord Uhlfrida will be pleased.”
Jahna hoped so. Marius had never hidden his daughter away from society. Sometimes she caught a pained expression in his eyes when he looked at her, one quickly hidden away behind the screen of parental affection. He loved her, of that she had no doubt. Nor was he ashamed of her appearance. If he was, he’d encourage her inclination to avoid people and society as a whole. His insistence she join the world around her was sometimes a trial, but she understood his motivation and in some instances appreciated it. Necessity had stiffened her spine, and while she still preferred retreat in the face of conflict or ridicule, she didn’t crumble under their weight.
She rose from her perch on the stool in front of the mirror. “Thank you, Ona,” she told the maid. “Let’s get this over with.”
Their supper that evening went exactly as she thought it would when it came to Lord Uzbec. The other guests, however, offered a few surprises. The new Lady Uzbec was nothing like Jahna expected. Much younger than her husband, she possessed a grace and dignity that made Jahna aware of every bit of her own youthful awkwardness. A startled flicker lit her brown eyes when she met Jahna and saw the mark on her face, but she didn’t stare or even worse, avoid looking at Jahna all together. Her smile was sincere, if infrequent, and she engaged Jahna in earnest conversation regarding the Archives and Jahna’s plans of apprenticing there as a king’s chronicler.
Her cousin who accompanied them was Lady Uzbec’s opposite in every way. A haughty creature whose features might have been beautiful were they not marred by a vulpine expression, she scrutinized everything and everyone with an eye toward their worth, whether in silver or influence. She gave an obvious shudder when her gaze lit on Jahna before sliding away, a response that, to his credit, earned her Sodrin’s smoldering enmity for the rest of the night.
During their procession to the dining room, he hung back and tucked Jahna’s hand into the crook of his elbow. His breath tickled her ear when he leaned down to whisper. “We should keep a close eye on that one. Did you see her eyeing the furnishing and paintings? If we aren’t vigilant, I suspect we’ll wake up on the morning of their departure and discover great-grandfather’s portrait missing from the wall.”
Jahna clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. When she could speak without gasping, she whispered back to him. “I don’t think she can stuff a painting under her gown and not be noticed, Sodrin.”
“Don’t be so certain,” he muttered.
As much as it unsettled her to admit it, Jahna missed Radimar at the supper. He’d left for the nearby village of Osobaris that morning after learning a trader had arrived from Ilinfan and the surrounding territories. “Always good to have current news,” he said before leading his horse through the gate and onto the main road that led away from Hollowfell. He hadn’t yet returned, and Marius had told both her and Sodrin not to expect the swordmaster until the next day.
He surprised them all with his early return just as they finished supper. He entered the hall at Uhlfrida’s urging, bowing to Lord Uzbec and his lady as well as the cousin who eyed him with the same avaricious intensity she’d reserved for the silver plates from which they dined.
Sodrin again leaned down to Jahna. “Forget great-grandfather’s portrait. Care to wager she’ll try and stuff Sir Radimar under her skirts?”
Jahna swallowed her wine the wrong way and sputtered. Her vision blurred, and she coughed into her napkin while her brother unhelpfully pounded her back. When she could breathe once more, she discovered, to her horror, every eye in the room on her, their expressions varying from concerned to awkward to revolted.
Mortified, she rose. “Please excuse me,” she whispered and fled the hall. The empty courtyard offered sanctuary and a welcoming blast of cold air that cooled her hot face if not her fiery embarrassment.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she raged under the moon’s indifferent light. “Stupid and clumsy and foolish.”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” a voice said. Jahna whirled and almost burst into tears at finding Sir Radimar behind her. His slow smile did nothing to soothe her furious self contempt. “Lady Uzbec’s cousin strikes me as sly, greedy and maybe a thief, but not necessarily stupid.”
Jahna couldn’t find it within her to smile back. “I wasn’t talking about Lady Uzbec’s cousin.”
His amusement faded. He came to stand beside her, and Jahna shivered, not from the cold, but from his nearness. He still wore the clothes he’d donned that morning, and bits of grass and mud decorated the hem of his cloak. Moonlight gilded his red hair silver and turned his green eyes black. Those eyes stared at the star-filled sky for a moment before settling their gaze on her.
“I know who you were talking about, Jahna, and as your teacher, I order you to stop.” Her eyebrows arched at the command. “So you choked on a little wine. Who hasn’t done just that thing more than a few times? It isn’t stupid or clumsy or foolish. It just is. A slip we’ve all made at one time or another.” His hard-hewn face sharpened in disapproval. “You are your most unforgiving critic. Why is that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because I feel I should excel at things that have nothing to do with the way I look.”
His sudden grip on her elbow startled a gasp out of her. He turned her to face him fully and traced the outline of the purple stain on her cheek with the tip of one finger. Jahna closed her eyes, lost to the sensation of that butterfly touch on her skin.
Radimar’s voice was a caress of its own. “The people who can’t see past this are the clumsy ones, Jahna. The foolish ones, and most definitely the stupid ones.” His words made her throat close and her knees quake.