The Countess by Claire Delacroix

tumbling tower which Duncan seemed disinclined to surrender, there was not so much as a shed.
    â€™Twas unlike Eglantine’s resolve to falter, but falter it did.
    Briefly.
    Perhaps she had caught a chill upon the journey. Indeed, the weather had been most foul and their stores less than fortifying. She could not risk her vassals falling into ill health in this place, not before they had an herb garden flourishing, not before they had decent shelter. Her first task would be to ensure that they ate well this day.
    They had need of meat. To hunt in the rain would be a particular ordeal, but that mattered naught. One did one’s duties first.
    In that moment, Jacqueline stepped out into the morning before Eglantine, her smile bright. At fourteen summers of age, the girl was radiant in her innocence and Eglantine watched her firstborn with pride. Jacqueline took a deep breath of the air, clearly unaware of her mother’s presence so close by and oblivious to the poor weather. Jacqueline hugged herself and grinned, dancing in a little circle.
    â€™Twas then she spied her mother.
    She giggled and flushed as she had not in a long time, flinging herself into Eglantine’s embrace with childish abandon. “Oh, Maman , I love it here. Thank you so very much for bringing us away from Arnelaine.”
    Eglantine blinked even as her daughter kissed her warmly. “How can you love this wretched place?”
    â€œHow can you not love it?” Jacqueline crowed, lifting her hands to the sky. “’Tis wild and beautiful, ’tis peaceful and uncluttered.”
    â€œBut the weather is most foul.”
    â€œNay, Maman . ’Tis but a gentle rain.” Jacqueline laughed and Eglantine supposed her skepticism was evident. “Look at the colors, feel the clarity of the wind. There is no king, no court, no wicked obligations that must be kept.” Jacqueline took a deep breath as though steeling herself for a foul deed. “I would aid you, Maman , however you might need my aid that we could stay.”
    â€œI go to hunt this morn,” Eglantine admitted, knowing that would be the end of Jacqueline’s enthusiasm.
    But the girl faltered for only a moment. “Let me come with you.”
    â€œBut you hate the hunt!”
    The girl lifted her chin, her lips set with resolve. “’Tis time I was of more assistance. You do too much for all of us, Maman .”
    Jacqueline smiled and ’twas as though the merry child she had once been stood before Eglantine once more. Eglantine brushed the hair back from her daughter’s temple with affection, pleased to see that the dread of Reynaud had already faded from her eyes.
    â€™Twas worth any price, any hardship, to have her daughter back.
    Eglantine slipped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “You shall have to feed Melusine the sweetmeats of the first kill,” she teased and Jacqueline grimaced comically.
    â€œI shall do whatsoever is required,” she said with a resolve Eglantine had not known she possessed.
    * * *
    Duncan had slept badly, with one ear cocked for the inevitable sounds of the countess’ departure, sounds which never did carry to his ears. He was up well before the dawn, walking in the pearly mist as he pondered his choices. When the onslaught turned to a cold drizzle, his spirits lifted.
    Aye, no countess would endure this! Duncan turned his steps away from the wild coast and toward the lady’s camp, intent on waving her farewell.
    But few stirred in her camp. A trio of men simply armed stood around the smoldering fire, warming their hands and drinking some hot beverage. Duncan took the opportunity to slip closer unnoticed, as he could not have done while her vassals were awake.
    The camp was considerable. In the midst of the haphazard settlement were three striped silk tents, their finery a notable contrast to their surroundings. He guessed one or all of these tents to be the abode of the