"Hey, up here!" A young human female in the stands waved frantically down at Jayr. "Please, up here! Please throw me a rose!"
Harlech heard her call and obliged by tossing up one of the long-stemmed roses that were being handed out to the female guests throughout the performance. The girl caught it and laughed, but again called out to Jayr. What she said was lost in the cries from the other females around her as they, too, begged for flowers.
"You have made a new friend," Harlech teased as they went inside the guards' hall for the last event of the evening, the dinner feast.
"I make many friends," Jayr said dryly. Accustomed as she was to having young human females mistake her for a boy, she barely registered it anymore. "Have you seen the master since sunset?" As the question left her, Byrne entered the guards' room from the garden door. "Never mind, he is here." She changed direction.
Some of the visitors stared at Byrne, but far fewer than in the past. Jayr was very grateful that movies about the war for Scottish independence had become popular; her lord no longer had to conceal the tattoos on his face while among humans in the Realm. Most assumed the dark blue marks were theatrical makeup. Given the rise in popularity of tattooing as well, someday soon Byrne might be able to walk freely among humans in their territory without attracting any attention.
"My lord." Jayr made her bow to him slightly more theatrical for the benefit of the humans watching them. "We are honored."
"Aye." He seemed distracted. "Is this the last of them, then?"
"Yes, my lord." In a louder voice she added, "Will you come to the high table and declare the feast commenced, my king?"
Byrne looked down at her for a long moment. "I am happy to, good squire."
Worried now, Jayr escorted her master to the table reserved for the Realm's "nobility." Around it sat eleven of their men in various costumes, all of whom rose to their feet as Byrne took his place.
"Hail to thee, my king," Harlech said with a grin. "You look very good in the crown. Rather better than I remember the Bras did. I always thought him too short to cut the proper figure of a monarch." When his master did not reply, he sighed. "Greith thu me my grave."
"You seem to be digging it quite well on your own," Beaumaris observed.
As soon as Byrne sat, Jayr filled the ornate chalice beside his plate with bloodwine.
"Glad I am that this is to be the last of it for a time, my lord," Gawain, dressed in the flowing robes of a reeve, said to Byrne. He glanced at the assembled visitors. "Do you know, a pair of humans intercepted me when I came in and tried to hire me to give rides on ponies at their child's birthday party?"
"Send them to me next time; I know a human who would be glad of the business." Jayr clapped her hands together sharply, signaling the waiters to bring in the platters of food prepared for the humans. At the same time, jongleurs emerged, their smooth voices harmonizing as they walked about the hall serenading the guests:
I sing of a maiden that is makelees,
king of alle kinges, to her sone she chees.
He cam also stille ther his moder was
As dewe in Aprille that falleth on the gras.
While the men pretended to eat the food in front of them, Byrne listened to the song and watched the feast with cynical eyes.
"My lord, when does the seigneur arrive?" one of the men asked.
"Tomorrow midnight."
"Cyprien will be attending this year?" When her master nodded, Jayr tried not to groan. "This is sudden news." They had never hosted an American seigneur; until this past year they had never had one. She recalled how much the Frenchman was said to favor gardens. "With your permission, my lord, I will move Lord Savarone and his party to the east tower, so that the seigneur may have the garden chambers."
Byrne made a negligent gesture. "Do as you will with him."
Harlech picked up the joint of meat on his plate and studied it as he might a defective blade. "You know, Jayr, I do not recall in our time ever once sitting down to a meal of roasted turkey parts."
"Or yard greens prettily chopped and adorned with small cubes of bread." Gaillard, the warrior next to him, poked his fork warily into a bowl of the same. "I cannot fathom why they insist on eating weeds in this time. Is there nothing that can be slaughtered and roasted?"
"These mortals don't eat enough to keep a church mouse from starving," Beaumaris said. "Harlech, remember the harvest feast your father held every year after the villeins brought in the crops? Ten pigs, seven cows, and a yearling calf he butchered one year to feed the hands." Gloomily he took a sip of his wine. "I can yet remember the taste of that bacon."
"The meat gone over, the endless boiled cabbage, and the sour, moldy wine; that is what I best remember," Harlech said. "My human mistress insisted all of the food put to the table on high holy days be one color. We did not mind so much the yellow or white meals, but the blue?" He shuddered.
"We must accommodate the needs of the visitors," Jayr replied. "Humans expect more modern foods, and have little experience with hunger or famine. Many do not eat pork now, and the greens are not weeds, Gaillard. Thus prepared they are called 'Caesar salad.'"
"Rip up perfectly good stock fodder, douse it with garlic fish sauce, and call it royal fare?" Harlech grinned at Beaumaris. "Sounds like something a Roman would invent, doesn't it?"
"Excuse me."
Jayr turned to find the human teenager who had called to her from the stands hovering behind her. "I'm sorry, miss, but this table is reserved for staff only."
"Oh, I don't want to sit here. I'm with my girlfriends at the Lancelot table." The girl moved a step closer. "Your name is Jared, right? I'm Stacy."
Some of the men looked down at their plates. Two coughed into their fists to cover other, less kind sounds.
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Stacy." Jayr deposited the wine jug on the table and held out her arm. "Allow me escort you back to your table. The tumblers are about to begin their performance, and they should not be missed."
"It's okay; I've seen them about a hundred times already." Blood flushed Stacy's cheeks. "I know I shouldn't be bothering you when you're working, but I sort of need to talk to you?" She sidled close enough to lay a hand on Jayr's arm, and squeezed it. "Wow, you're really toned. Do you work out?"
Beaumaris began having a coughing fit.
"My duties keep me fit." Jayr almost groaned as she saw the adoring warmth in the human's eyes. "I fear I am not—"
"Supposed to talk to the guests, I know. It's okay, really." The girl pressed her fingers against Jayr's lips, and then snatched them away and giggled. "I can't believe how gorgeous you are up close. Like Tom Welling from Smallville? Only so much cuter." She glanced at the table before she lowered her voice. "Listen, I don't want to get you in trouble with your boss or anything—"
Harlech joined Beau in his coughing attack.
"—but I just had to talk to you before they closed the castle for the winter." Her eyelids fluttered nervously. "Is there, like, a rule against employees dating customers? Because my friends and I? We are having this Christmas-break party, and I would love for you to hang out with us." She looked hopeful as she added, "As my date."
Gaillard coughed so hard he fell off his chair.
"I am tremendously flattered by your invitation, miss, but I am… involved with another." Jayr heard Gawain mutter something suggestive in French, and silently vowed to smack all of the men's heads together at the first private opportunity, but kept her smile pinned in place. "I thank you for asking."
Stacy's pupils expanded. "I love the way you talk. It's so pretty. And the way you ride your horse. I can't stop thinking about you." She seized Jayr's hand. "You're, like, the coolest-looking boy I've ever met."
"Jayr," Harlech said, no longer coughing.
"I know." To Stacy she said, "Please come with me, miss."
Jayr kept hold of the girl's hand and used it to lead her away from the high table and around the corner, where she could deal with her in some privacy. As soon as they were out of sight of the room, and out of range of the humans' noses, Jayr allowed her dents acérées to emerge. She did not intend to bite Stacy, but by preparing to hunt she was able to release more of her scent, which would give her more control over the girl.
"Are you having peach cobbler for dessert?" the girl asked. "I love peach cobbler."
Jayr caught the female's chin in her hand. "Look at me, child, and hear what I say."
Now firmly in the grip of l'attrait, the teenager swayed. "Yes, Jared."
"I am not the one for you," she said, slowly and deliberately emphasizing each word. "You will stop visiting the Realm. You will forget me and forsake this place. You will go on with your life as it was before you saw me. Do you understand?"
Stacy's cheeks turned bright red. "I will stop. Forget. Go on."
Jayr never liked compelling a human under the influence of l'attrait, even when the influence happened accidentally, as it had tonight with Stacy. But if Jayr did not order her to stay away, the girl would keep returning until she was compelled not to.
"You are very lovely and sweet. You will meet another, more suitable boy and be very happy with him." Jayr saw the glitter of tears in the young eyes, and on impulse pressed a kiss to the girl's brow. "Now come. I will take you back to your friends."
She turned to lead the girl back, saw a shadow move across the threshold to the hall, and frowned. Someone must have seen her talking to the girl and turned away to avoid them.
By the time they reached Stacy's young friends, the effects of l'attrait had dissipated, and the girl blinked a few times before giving Jayr a strange look.