All for a Rose by Jennifer Blackstream Page B

mild-mannered beast. He had to be particularly careful in his work, determined not to injure his noble companion with the sickle-shaped claws curling from his fingertips. When the final strap was secure, Daman breathed a little easier, patting the animal on the rump.
    Cool scales slid over Daman’s shoulder, followed by the flicker of a slim pink tongue.
    “That wasssn’t very niccce.”
    The horse’s ears pressed flat against its head, but that was the only indication it gave that it registered the cuelebre ’s presence. Daman gave it a swat on its silky hindquarters. The stallion shook out its mane and rolled one eye at the cuelebre as it trotted off down the path. The beast was well-trained, it would go to the front of the main house where it had once waited for Daman in his human form on those occasions he’d seen fit to go into town. The carriage, while unused for some time, was solidly built and barely swayed as it was jostled down the path.
    “You know nothing of this situation. I have reasons for what I’ve done.”
    “You want the witch.”
    Daman faced the cuelebre with renewed interest, flexing his hands until his claws clicked against one another. “What do you know of it?”
    “I know what a naga isss. You aren’t in thisss form by choiccce.”
    The door to the stable creaked in protest as Daman’s hand tightened on the handle. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes and counting to ten before closing the door with as much restraint as he could manage. “What is your purpose here?”
    “I am here to help.” The cuelebre tapped its chin with the tip of its tail, contemplating Daman for several long seconds. “You have a plan,” it said finally.
    Daman waited, but the cuelebre said no more. Its black eyes were reflective black pearls, offering Daman no hint of its thoughts, only shining his own image back at him. “I do have a plan. But I will not require your help.”
    The cuelebre bobbed its head. “That’sss how it goesss. The bessst laid plansss…”

Chapter Three
     
    “Everything is about to get better. I can’t believe this nightmare is almost over.”
    Maribel remained silent as she stood stirring the pot over the fire, adding a dash of dried spices now and then. The aroma of salty chicken broth, fragrant onion, and tender carrots and celery fresh from the garden wafted up to envelope her in a pleasant, steamy embrace. Chicken soup was one of her father’s favorites, a simple, but comforting recipe. It would be exactly what he needed after his long journey, especially if he’d had to travel at night. Nothing chased the chill from one’s bones like a good soup.
    “We’ll have a real roof over our heads, not this miserable patchwork,” Corrine continued. “There will be people all around us all the time. We’ll have true friends this time, not people who will abandon us at the first sign of shifting fortune. Our clothes will fit properly and we’ll never be hungry again.”
    Maribel forced herself to relax her death grip on the wooden spoon she held before she snapped it into useless twigs. She doesn’t mean to be insulting. She’s just used to a certain lifestyle. She needs a different lifestyle to feel secure. It’s no reflection on how hard Father and I work to make her comfortable.
    Squaring her shoulders, Maribel forced a smile to her face as she glanced over to where Corrine sat huddled under a thick quilt beside the fire. The chair had been pushed farther back, a testament to caution after Corrine’s last episode. “If you’re hungry, I can fix you a bowl of soup? It’s already done, I’m just letting it cook longer to make the flavor richer.”
    “Do you remember our first winter here? How cold it was, how fast our food ran out?” Corrine rubbed the corner of the quilt against her cheek, the way she’d cuddled her coverlet when she was a child. Tendrils of fraying threads stuck out from the corners, betraying the blanket for the second-hand charity it was.