Traitor's Masque Read Free Page B

The cook frowned disapprovingly. “Stop mumbling at once.” She looked sternly at Trystan from under lowered brows. “And do not ask me to explain after all this time.”
    Trystan’s mouth hung open briefly, but closed again. She had the uncomfortable thought that she might be about to cry. Or laugh. The unfamiliar feeling in her chest seemed to demand both. “How can I…” She started to say something, she hardly knew what, when Vianne, appearing almost amused at her inability to complete a sentence, held out a sack with Trystan’s lunch.
    “Don’t be late.”
    Trystan took the sack, feeling suddenly warm and a trifle overwhelmed. An alarming impulse took her by surprise, but she did not dare do something so forward. One simply didn’t hug a servant, and Vianne would not thank her for such demonstrative behavior. Instead Trystan said the words she had never said as a child, words Malisse would never utter, words that were completely inadequate to express what she felt.
    “Thank you.”
    Vianne’s eyebrows rose just a fraction, as near to an expression of surprise as the cook had likely ever permitted to cross her face. Trystan turned and slipped out the door before she could give way to any other strange impulses.

    Trystan shivered as she left the warmth of the kitchen behind, but it was only partly due to the cool morning air. A sense of giddy anticipation lent her an energy that seemed impossible to contain. A full day to spend as she chose! It was a luxury she had not experienced for some time, and had barely even dared imagine. For the first time in what seemed an age, she was happy and no one was watching, so Trystan gave in to temptation and jig-stepped her way through the kitchen garden. She twirled past the compost heap and skipped around the beds of freshly tilled earth without losing sight of her destination: the only other place at the Manor where she could still find some measure of comfort.
    Trystan had always loved the stables. She spent many hours underfoot there in childhood, where her education in all things horse had been seen to, not by her father, but by Andrei and Alexei, the quiet, dark-haired brothers who still ran the Colbourne stable. They rarely approved of anyone who didn’t have four hooves and a tail, but for some reason, they approved of their employer’s daughter.
    It had been an educational experience for everyone, Trystan recalled with a small smile as she trailed rather muddy footprints across the stable yard. She had learned to respect both horses and fences, and to apply herself for the sake of accomplishment with a zeal she had never shown towards dancing, drawing, or embroidery. Once she had proven her ability to manage even the most difficult of his hunters, Trystan had begged and pleaded and cajoled until Lord Percival permitted her to join him on hunts, despite his second wife’s objections. The ensuing disagreements were a source of great satisfaction to Trystan, who resented her stepmother’s attempts to interfere as deeply as she scorned the woman’s notions of propriety.
    But Trystan's youthful triumph had been short lived. When Malisse took over the estate and banished her stepdaughter from the stables, Trystan had been terrified that she would lose the closest thing she had to freedom. Without the cooperation of Andrei and Alexei, her stolen morning rides would be impossible. But even when Malisse had ordered the sale of most of Lord Colbourne’s prized horses, and the brothers could easily have found better, more lucrative opportunities elsewhere, both men chose to stay. Trystan had been so relieved that she refused to speculate about their reasons. Three years later, she still couldn’t bring herself to ask them why.
    After pausing to wipe the worst of the mud off her boots, Trystan stepped through the open stable door, stopping only for a moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply. The aromas of leather and hay and horse blended together to produce a