Voulter more gently, and he nodded once.
Walking over, Céline took his hand.
“Oh, this is promising,” she said, gazing into his palm. She wasn’t really attempting to use her abilities and see his future, but the men didn’t know that. For five years, before her true power surfaced, Céline had made a good living pretending to read futures. She knew exactly what to say and do.
“Esmeralda’s father makes her family eat far too much meat,” she announced, still looking into Voulter’s palm. “I see here that the next time you see her, you bring her a small loaf of cinnamon bread and some strawberries—which are her favorites—and she is most welcoming and pleased to see you. Your attentions are gladly met.”
Most of the men were smiling in amusement now, and Céline turned to a soldier with a hint of gray at his temples. “You have a question. I can see it in your face.”
She was skilled at reading faces. She always had been.
The soldier hesitated and then said, “I’d like to get one more foal out of my mare, Aspen, but she’s growing older, and I don’t want to lose her. Will she be safe if I try?”
This was a trickier question. Céline had many friends in the village and had probably known that Esmeralda harbored a taste for cinnamon bread and strawberries. However, though this new dilemma was not as much fun as Voulter’s had been, all the men at the fire were listening intently, interested in the answer.
Céline didn’t hesitate. Walking over, she took the man’s hand and looked into his palm, running her finger down the centerline. “No, you are wise to be concerned. I see her in trouble if she breeds again. If you wish to keep her safe, you should not try.”
Amelie had a feeling this would be the answer. When in doubt, Céline normally erred on the side of safety, but she’d also managed to compliment the soldier on his wisdom and at the same time probably told him what he’d wanted to hear.
Céline looked around the circle and smiled again. “Who’s next?”
Amelie stopped listening and turned her head slightly, attempting to glance behind herself.
Jaromir was standing outside the circle of seated men, watching Céline with gratitude on his face. He was no fool, and he must have felt the nervous energy of the men as they made camp. Now Céline had lightened the mood.
Yet an unwanted wave of unhappiness flooded through Amelie.
For some reason—and she had no idea why—she didn’t want Jaromir to think badly of her. It was outside her nature to either explain or apologize. In her entire life, she’d only managed it a few times with Céline. But Céline had always forgiven her with great warmth.
Jaromir was not a man known for his warmth.
Still, without allowing herself to think, Amelie climbed to her feet. She could not go another day leaving things the way they were.
Making her way outside the circle, she almost balked when Jaromir saw her coming and his expression closed up. How would she feel if she tried to explain herself and her attempt changed nothing? The humiliation would be too much.
But she couldn’t stop.
“Jaromir . . . ,” she tried to begin.
He looked back toward the fire, and her heart sank.
“I wanted to . . . ,” she stammered. “I wanted to tell you that I didn’t mean what I said in Prince Anton’s chambers.”
His head turned quickly, and his eyes dropped to her face.
“Céline and I grew up so poor,” she rushed on. “We had to ask for payment or trade for anything we did for others. What I said . . . it just came out. I felt backed into a corner, and when that happens, I always say the wrong thing. But I didn’t mean it. I am grateful for all Anton has done for us, and I’m . . . I’m sorry.”
All the hardness in his face vanished, and his brown eyes grew soft. “Don’t be sorry. You know I lived as a hired sword once, poor and hungry, and those scars never heal. I should have realized. You’re here now, and
Walking over, Céline took his hand.
“Oh, this is promising,” she said, gazing into his palm. She wasn’t really attempting to use her abilities and see his future, but the men didn’t know that. For five years, before her true power surfaced, Céline had made a good living pretending to read futures. She knew exactly what to say and do.
“Esmeralda’s father makes her family eat far too much meat,” she announced, still looking into Voulter’s palm. “I see here that the next time you see her, you bring her a small loaf of cinnamon bread and some strawberries—which are her favorites—and she is most welcoming and pleased to see you. Your attentions are gladly met.”
Most of the men were smiling in amusement now, and Céline turned to a soldier with a hint of gray at his temples. “You have a question. I can see it in your face.”
She was skilled at reading faces. She always had been.
The soldier hesitated and then said, “I’d like to get one more foal out of my mare, Aspen, but she’s growing older, and I don’t want to lose her. Will she be safe if I try?”
This was a trickier question. Céline had many friends in the village and had probably known that Esmeralda harbored a taste for cinnamon bread and strawberries. However, though this new dilemma was not as much fun as Voulter’s had been, all the men at the fire were listening intently, interested in the answer.
Céline didn’t hesitate. Walking over, she took the man’s hand and looked into his palm, running her finger down the centerline. “No, you are wise to be concerned. I see her in trouble if she breeds again. If you wish to keep her safe, you should not try.”
Amelie had a feeling this would be the answer. When in doubt, Céline normally erred on the side of safety, but she’d also managed to compliment the soldier on his wisdom and at the same time probably told him what he’d wanted to hear.
Céline looked around the circle and smiled again. “Who’s next?”
Amelie stopped listening and turned her head slightly, attempting to glance behind herself.
Jaromir was standing outside the circle of seated men, watching Céline with gratitude on his face. He was no fool, and he must have felt the nervous energy of the men as they made camp. Now Céline had lightened the mood.
Yet an unwanted wave of unhappiness flooded through Amelie.
For some reason—and she had no idea why—she didn’t want Jaromir to think badly of her. It was outside her nature to either explain or apologize. In her entire life, she’d only managed it a few times with Céline. But Céline had always forgiven her with great warmth.
Jaromir was not a man known for his warmth.
Still, without allowing herself to think, Amelie climbed to her feet. She could not go another day leaving things the way they were.
Making her way outside the circle, she almost balked when Jaromir saw her coming and his expression closed up. How would she feel if she tried to explain herself and her attempt changed nothing? The humiliation would be too much.
But she couldn’t stop.
“Jaromir . . . ,” she tried to begin.
He looked back toward the fire, and her heart sank.
“I wanted to . . . ,” she stammered. “I wanted to tell you that I didn’t mean what I said in Prince Anton’s chambers.”
His head turned quickly, and his eyes dropped to her face.
“Céline and I grew up so poor,” she rushed on. “We had to ask for payment or trade for anything we did for others. What I said . . . it just came out. I felt backed into a corner, and when that happens, I always say the wrong thing. But I didn’t mean it. I am grateful for all Anton has done for us, and I’m . . . I’m sorry.”
All the hardness in his face vanished, and his brown eyes grew soft. “Don’t be sorry. You know I lived as a hired sword once, poor and hungry, and those scars never heal. I should have realized. You’re here now, and
Similar Books
