Page 101 of The Huntsman's Heart
I am longing for a week of rest and peace, alone save for Alaric and my gargoyles.
Alaric draws his stallion close with a smile. “Not a monster in sight all the way from the keep.”
“I am sure the people are happy, but I hope there are still some deep in what remains of the woods. It would not feel right to have cleared the land of them completely.”
He scoffs. “I am not sure the deer will thank you for that. Nor the rabbits.”
The coachman draws the carriage to a halt. “Your Majesty, are you certain you want us to leave you here?”
I smother a laugh as Alaric dismounts to open my door, and I step down and get my first look at my second home. Havenrock is as ramshackle as ever, vines growing up the walls, pieces crumbling from broken battlements. But in the center of it all, my tower stands proudly. “Oh, I am certain, thank you.”
“What about the gargoyles?”
I grin. “Unload them in the courtyard very carefully.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The men start unloading trunks and boxes, while four of the strongest guards move each gargoyle with some effort. I didn’t realize how much the housekeeper packed, for as the boxes are unloaded, I spot chairs and fine rugs and even the frame of my bed, taken from my royal chambers.
I stop them. “I won’t need half of this. You may return it to Blackthorn and thank Robards. This week I am not queen.”
Alaric leans close. “Just our princess.”
I have to hide the wicked smile that curves the corners of my mouth at the reminder of my plans. “Hush or you will miss out on your surprise,” I tell him.
He only laughs, but he goes to help unload our three most precious things.
The final carriage in our train arrives as the last of the things are being packed back onto the wagon, and I rush to greet the master stonemason. He groans as he is handed down from the carriage and shakes out sore limbs. “I am not as young as I once was, Your Majesty. I hope there are not many stairs—” He looks up in surprise and breaks off, adjusting his glasses down his nose as he squints at the castle ruins. “Well you weren’t joking when you said ruins.”
“I was not. There is one statue in particular I want you to look at. A very precious statue. I wonder if it can be repaired.”
“Take me to it.”
We lead him through the courtyard to the place beneath the statue of Garruche. “Hmmm. Perhaps. It is possible. I would need to take a closer look. There’s no guarantee. It is delicate work, but I could try.”
“Thank you, master. It would be a great favor to me if you would.”
He nods to me, then paces the courtyard, walking around to look at the statue from various angles. “Well have it brought down. I will need the proper equipment. It will have to be transported back to Blackthorn.”
“Right away.” I call the men and they set up a pulley system to bring Garruche down and load him onto the wagon.
I glance at the sky. Above the remaining trees it’s dusty pink, the blush of dusk. I smile. I have work to do, but I don’t want Alaric to see.
I find him in the courtyard watching as the last of the things is loaded. “Wait for me in the tower.”
A grin creeps over his face, but he knows better than to ask questions when this tone is in my voice. “Yes, princess. Shall I take up your trunks?”
“No, not yet.”
When I’m certain he’s not watching, I hurry to the trunk with my clothing and open it. On top of my things I placed three pretty half corsets, made from the finest most materials and decorated with the finest lace. I had them specially made to fit a male shape, rather than a female shape.
I’m sure the women from Ber who stitched them were scandalized at my order, but the result is perfect. I lift the soft pink garment from the top of the pile and walk over to Corvin who stands closest to me. “You’re going to look so good my beautiful boys.”
They say nothing, of course. They’re still frozen.
It isn’t long before they stir. Raban’s wings are the first to unfurl. He looks down at himself then up at me as a grin spreads over his face. “What is this?”
I run my hand down his side and over his hip where the hem of the short garment finishes. “Something to make you feel pretty. Do you like it?”
