Entreat Me by Grace Draven Page A

to sire a she-wolf like Louvaen Duenda.”  Gavin stood beside his father at the solar’s one window and watched as horse and rider picked their way across the drawbridge spanning the gorge.  The wind was up, free of snow flurries but still gusting hard enough to whip the horse’s mane high and the rider’s cloak stiff.  The concealing hood flew back, revealing Louvaen’s dark hair before she passed out of sight beneath the gatehouse’s span.
    Ballard stayed silent, keeping his opinions to himself.  Gavin’s comment was mild compared to Ambrose’s.  The sorcerer had earlier proclaimed that Cinnia’s sister “possessed the disposition of a badger poked with a sharp stick.”  Ambrose made plain his dislike of their newest guest, and Gavin was wary of her—as he had a reason to be.  Ballard touched a sore spot on the side of his healing nose.  The woman kicked like a mule and had done an admirable job of trying to cave his face in.
    “Are you certain you want her here for the winter?  According to Ambrose, she’ll be trouble if she stays.”
    “She’s prickly, but she loves her sister.” Gavin inhaled the rush of cold air curling through the open window.  “When she’s not busy acting as Cinnia’s battle hound, she’s good company.  Intelligent, well-read and quick with a quip.”  His gaze flickered over Ballard’s bruised features and he winced.  “Can you forgive her enough to let her stay?  Cinnia wants her here, and they’re close despite the fact they can sometimes fight like two wet cats in a sack.”
    Ballard didn’t know this Duenda woman, didn’t recollect her beyond the breath of cloves that had cut through the stink of his cell and brought him briefly out of the flux’s madness.  He’d been horrified to find his son standing next to the unmistakable silhouette of a woman.  He’d remained sensible only long enough to ask Gavin why he’d done such a thing before the madness took him again.  He didn’t remember grabbing her or even the blow she landed which cracked his nose and gifted him with a matching pair of black eyes.  He held no grudge for the injury.  In fact, she’d earned a modicum of his respect for fighting back, a trait no doubt learned by necessity if her father was as spiritless as Gavin described.  “A sharp tongue is harmless enough, and I’ve survived worse than this tap on the nose.  If, however, she spends her time trying to turn your beloved against you, you might want to reconsider.”
    His son’s features froze, an icy expression reminiscent of his long-dead mother.  Ballard shuddered.  “I’ll throw her out myself if I discover such a thing.”
    Ballard didn’t doubt it.  “You can always have Ambrose curse her into a mute.”
    Gavin grinned.  “As much as Ambrose would love to, I think it will take more than losing her voice to defeat Mistress Duenda.”  He shut and locked the window.  “I’ll send them up.  Cinnia wants to make the introductions.”
    Ballard shouldered on his cloak, pulled the hood lower and took his place by the lit hearth.  “The girl’s skittish around me.”
    “It’s just respect for the dominus of the household.  Anyone would react the same way even with no curse.  Cinnia is seeking you out of her own accord.  Such a thing can only convince Louvaen there’s nothing for Cinnia to fear.”
    Maybe not now, when the flux was weak and his thoughts his own, but if left unbroken the curse ensured no one at Ketach Tor would be safe from him.  “One day, son, you’ll have to tell her that won’t always be true.”
    Gavin paused, his mouth curving down.  “I know.  Just not now.”  He left Ballard alone to await his visitor.
    He didn’t wait long.  After more than two weeks with her traipsing the halls of his home, he now recognized Cinnia’s quick steps.  The ones that followed were new, longer in stride, more purposeful in tread.  “Enter,” he called at the polite knock.  The door