On the second day after Fridolf’s castle encounter, Ulva was sulking. She was very upset that her father was going to sacrifice himself. She loved him, and didn’t want him to die. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just let Calista go. Calista would be safe, and paid! The mage would also probably be a better shield against the three lycans harassing her little sister than she and Orfilia were. It wasn’t that Ulva lacked faith in Bardoul’s ability to run the business, but she wasn’t convinced he was ready to take over the business. He was only twenty-six, just three years older than her, and their father was still a good ten years from retirement.
The brunette paced around the house, trying to come up with a solution. As she passed the library, her eyes fell upon an herb book on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. Her amber eyes lit up as an idea came to her.
I studied herbalism with Mama as a child. Hell, I trained with her longer than Calista, before Mama died. She may have surpassed me at this point, but I am not entirely unskilled. I am sure I could fake greater competence. If I can convince the mage that I am Calista for a year, Papa’s debts will be cleared, and he’ll be alive! All I have to do is pretend to research whatever ailment he has, and then after a year, I’ll just “fail” to figure it out and resign my position! I’ll have to delay my wedding for a couple months, but it would be worth it to save Papa’s life and keep our family’s lifestyle! Ulva thought.
Determined, she marched to her room and packed some bags. She waited until the sun set, and snuck out to the stable with her bags. She loaded up the horse to the best of her ability--usually she had help. She used a mounting block to help her get into the saddle alone. She was not a proficient horsewoman. She wasn’t really good with prey animals in general. The lycan had a bit of a bloodthirsty streak in her, and got a greater thrill from hunting than most. She had trouble seeing prey animals as anything other than, well, prey, even when in human form. The animals always seemed to sense that about her, and tended to act up around her. She had little interest in learning how to control the animals to compensate, so she just accepted that she would never be very good with them.
Ulva did her best to keep the horse from making too much noise in protest of her mounting. Once she was safely in the saddle, she exited the stable and headed for the main road. She followed the road for a while, keeping an eye out for the side road that would lead to the castle.
It was hard to see through the softly falling snow, but at least there was nothing wrong with Ulva’s night vision. She managed to find the overgrown path, and guided the horse down it. The horse recognized the path and balked, throwing its head up.
Ulva leaned her weight forward and growled at the horse.
“If you try to throw me like you threw Papa, he’ll be buying a new horse and Calista will be serving me horse stew!” she threatened.
The horse settled, eyes rolling to show the whites as it looked back at her. Ulva wondered briefly if the horse was smart enough to know what she said, or was just responding to the threat in her tone. With a mental shrug, she kicked the horse forward, forcing it down the path.
The animal moved with reluctance and resisted her efforts, forcing her to devote a lot of her attention to keeping it under control.
By the time they’d reached the castle gate, Ulva’s temper was fraying.
The gate opened as she approached it. Ulva looked around, but didn’t see anyone. Magic? she wondered.
As she rode across the outer bailey, a black cloaked figure approached down the path. Ulva figured that must be the mage, so she pulled the horse to a stop. Her heart fluttered up to her throat as her confidence faltered now that the time to sell her plan approached.
“Are you Calista?” the figure asked as he approached her down the path.
“Yes,” Ulva said, and waited for him to approach. She held out her hands for him to help her down off the horse. The mage hesitated, then cautiously took her hands and helped her down. Ulva had hoped to catch a glimpse of his face in the hood, but she saw only darkness. She gave an inward sigh, realizing the cloak must be glamored to prevent such cheating peeks.
Once her feet were safely on the path, she walked towards the castle door. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, uneasy in his presence. She saw him look from her to the horse and back a couple times, before squaring his shoulders and leading the horse to the stable. He was gone for an unexpectedly long time, and Ulva stood in front of the door to the castle, waiting, with her arms crossed and tapping her foot.
The mage emerged from the stable and joined her at the door. He snapped his fingers and the doors swung open on their own. Ulva couldn’t quite stop herself from letting out a small gasp.
“Welcome to my home,” the mage said softly. He flourished his hand and offered a small bow, and allowed Ulva to enter first. “Please follow me to the dining hall. I will prepare a meal for us to share.”
Ulva glanced sharply at him, surprised.
“A nobleman who doesn’t have servants?” she asked, slightly incredulous.
The mage hesitated, clearly taken aback.
“I used to have servants, but they fled when I became cursed,” he said stiffly. “There is a maid who comes twice a week to clean the castle as long as she does not have to look upon me, even in these robes. And I still employ my father’s steward to manage the duchy in my stead.”
“I see,” Ulva said, her short tone coming across like disapproval, even though that wasn’t really the case. She was surprised, and grumpy, but a lack of servants would be to her advantage as a lycan. “Well, I hope you’re a decent cook!” she said brightly, attempting to sound teasing.
“I like to think so. I’ve spent fifteen years learning to do so out of necessity. I’m afraid I have no talent for anything fancy, but what I can make, I make well. At least, I think so. It’s not as if I’ve had many people to try my cooking. Your father seemed to like it,” he said dryly, sounding as if he took the attempt at teasing in stride, even if he wasn’t exactly thrilled with it.
He led Ulva to a large dining hall, then paused.
“Actually, I think the breakfast room would be better. The dining hall is much too large for two,” he said, mostly to himself. He guided Ulva through a nearby door and down a short corridor that led to a smaller dining room that was much closer to the average dining room of the humans in town. He pulled out a seat for Ulva and gestured for her to sit, which she did.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, and left through another door. He came back a moment later with a large silver vase filled with sunflowers and lavender, and set it on the center of the table. Ulva glanced from the flowers to him and got the impression he was smiling.
“Give me some time, I will return with supper,” he said, offering another small bow as he exited the room again.
Ulva waited, growing more impatient and frustrated the longer she sat. She was beginning to doubt she’d be able to pull off this ruse, simply because everything about this mage rubbed her the wrong way, and she didn’t believe she could keep up Calista’s saccharine personality for a whole year. She genuinely thought she had thus far behaved as her youngest sister would.
Finally, her host returned, and set a lovely shepherd’s pie in front of her. She hesitantly began to eat, and found it to be tasty, though far simpler than what she was used to, and lacked the skillful seasoning Calista always managed.
“I hope you like it,” he said mildly as he sat across from her with his own plate. “By the way, what do you think of the flowers?” he asked, gesturing at the centerpiece.
Ulva sized up the flowers and sniffed.
“While it’s impressive you have fresh blooms in the midst of winter, and lavender has a pleasant enough smell, I quite despise sunflowers. The yellow color of the petals is nice, but too much of the flower is an ugly brown. I am also not in love with the color purple. I much prefer roses. They are beautiful, the color of passion, and have a lovely, delicate scent,” Ulva explained between bites of food.
There was a long moment of silence, and Ulva looked over at the mage. To her surprise, his fists were clenched and he was obviously fuming.
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