Fire of the Soul by Flora Speer Read Free Book Online

stables.”
    Garit swallowed the bread and cheese he was
chewing, then took a large swig of ale to wash the food down before
he responded. Otherwise, he feared he’d choke on sheer irritation.
He wanted to protest that if he knew how his own Castle Auremont
was run, and he did, to the last sheaf of wheat and basket of
apples and wheel of cheese, and knew all the people of castle and
village besides, then certainly he could manage the much smaller
manor lands of Saumar without anyone acting as his tutor.
    He noticed how Calia stared at Lady Elgida
before firmly closing her mouth. From her expression Garit
suspected she was gritting her teeth. Apparently, she didn’t relish
his grandmother’s suggestion, either. Except, since they were
dealing with Lady Elgida, it wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order.
Garit realized it was also an opportunity to become more familiar
with Calia, so he could better judge her character and her
intentions.
    “Thank you for the offer, Grandmother,” he
said, forcing a slight smile to his lips. He didn’t smile often
these days and he almost never laughed, but he’d make the effort
for the sake of the old lady he loved. “I can be ready whenever it
pleases you, Calia.”
    “In an hour, then,” she responded. “I must
speak with the cook about the midday meal.”
    “You could take food with you,” Lady Elgida
said, “and eat on the riverbank where that little waterfall
is.”
    “Not today.” Calia’s refusal was a bit sharp.
“It’s cold and foggy, and I do believe we’ll see rain before the
afternoon ends.” She softened her stiff explanation with a gentler
comment. “I’m sorry, my lady. Please forgive my rudeness.”
    Lady Elgida snorted, her gaze on Garit, who
was watching Calia. Garit found himself wondering just how much his
grandmother saw, and what she was thinking.
     
    Through the mist and drizzle they rode over
Saumar lands, with Anders and Mairne accompanying them. Garit could
hear Anders speaking in an exaggerated Kantian accent, his remarks
often followed by Mairne’s low, sultry laugh that grew softer as
the pair fell farther and farther behind.
    “Anders will offer no insult,” Garit assured
Calia when she swung around in her saddle to check on them. “He
knows I’d never allow it.”
    “Do you mean because Mairne is part of your
grandmother’s household?” Calia demanded in the same sharp tone
she’d used earlier with Lady Elgida, the same tone that plainly
told Garit she’d rather be anywhere else than riding with him.
    “I was raised in a castle,” Calia continued,
“so I know how squires prey on young women, especially those whom
they deem beneath their own rank.”
    “Neither Anders nor I would ever misuse any
woman of any rank,” Garit said quietly. “You insult us to say
so.”
    “I beg your pardon, my lord.” She spoke with
great formality. “I’ve no wish to cast a slur on your honor, or
your squire’s, either.”
    “Perhaps you were thinking of other men
you’ve known,” he suggested, hoping thus to prompt her to speak of
her past.
    “Perhaps I was thinking of my own father!”
she snapped. “Were you expecting a confession? You already know
that particular truth. I am illegitimate. I told you so last
night.”
    “Yes, you did.” Garit was sure she hadn’t
told him all of it. Deciding it was time to change the subject,
just for a short while, he looked around at the damp fields on
either side of the road. “This is where we met yesterday. Where I
first saw you. Turnips?” He leaned on the saddle pommel, looking
more closely at the green leaves poking above the soil in neat
rows.
    “Turnips here and barley sprouted in the
field on the other side of the path,” Calia said. “I do like the
soft green shade of barley. The Mother Mage, your Aunt Adana as
Lady Elgida calls her, taught me that crops should be alternated
each year to avoid wearing out the soil and to improve the
yields.”
    “Yes, that’s what I do at