Enchanter: Book Seven Of The Spellmonger Series by Mancour Terry

Author:Mancour, Terry [Mancour, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-06-17T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty Three

The Baroness At The Fair

She was just about the last person I expected to see at Chepstan Fair.

She was dressed in a dark blue traveling gown with long pointed sleeves under her mantle, laced in front and low cut in the style popular in Castabriel the last few years. But the front of it was paneled to allow for the growing bulge in her tummy. Behind her were three young maids in attendance, wearing similar traveling gowns. All young, pretty and, I suspected, extremely deadly.

“Oh, Baron Minalan,” he said, sweetly, her eyes flashing at me, “What a surprise meeting you here!”

I froze. I wanted to . . . I wanted to strike her. Shake her. Scream at her. But I knew that she thought I was still under her compulsions, and I realized that this was an ideal way to possibly learn of her further plans, as sickening as it was to do so.

It took a lot of control to bring my emotions in check – Ruderal took a step back, though I let nothing show on my face – but after the longest, hardest second of my life I forced a smile, as genuine as I could manage. She is your sister, I reminded myself. I’m supposed to think of her as my sister, not my rapist. That was the ruse.

I was almost appalled at myself at how easily I was able to slip on that mask. I forced myself to look at her pretty face smile.

“Ah! Baroness Isily! This is indeed a pleasant surprise! This is far from your estates in Greenflower,” I pointed out.

“I had some business in Wilderhall,” she dismissed. “I was in the region and remembered Baron Arathanial’s invitation to his fair. It would be rude of me not to take him up on his kind hospitality.”

“And is your lord husband well?” I asked, wondering just how long and how far I could bear this ruse. Her maids quietly retreated to the front of the stall, offering us privacy, although all three managed to keep their eyes on us while pretending to look at hats. One, a pretty brown-haired girl, seemed to be studying me, as if I might spring at her mistress at any moment. Pretty brown eyes, and familiar. Definitely an assassin, even if the others were not.

“He is,” she agreed, blinking slowly. “Busy at his scrolls and spells, and running our estates. I see him so rarely. It seemed like a good time to conduct some business, before the heat of the summer and my pregnancy makes such things difficult. Yet he is excited at the prospect of his new heir,” she said, patting her belly.

The belly where my baby was growing.

“I do wish him good health,” I said, still smiling. I was speaking of the child, of course.

“And your lady wife? How is Baroness Alya?”

“The Baroness is shopping at the moment in the drapers’ stalls,” I said, carefully, while trying not to sound like I was being careful. The last person I wanted this murderous bitch to encounter was my wife.

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