Even after they had returned to the castle Joan had expected for the noble to pressure her further on whatever truth he was after, whether about her or the assassin.
But he let her go almost like nothing had happened.
Sir Corentin, she wondered, had made a show of force. Of that she was sure but the purpose escaped her, nor would the lady spend much more time to consider it.
They watched her return to her room from which her body would not leave; she fell there into a deep slumber. So worried was she of the curse spreading, that this man, Brenin, was straying from her control, that she resorted to spirit walk.
A ghostly dog, as she did during the night, left the castle in the afternoon to search for any trace of her blood or of a beast's scent.
In the smouldering land, she found nothing.
And she could not bring herself to travel too far from the keep, lest someone attacked her in her sleep. As her spirit wandered, her senses still belonged to the body and any approaching step, even in passing, would keep her on edge.
Evening had come, with it a light but windy drizzle that blurred the soulless land even more.
They would soon come for her for supper and she could not afford to delay but just as Joan was about to return to her body, there was a scent.
In the middle of the fields, in the most improbable of places that faint smell led her to her rock that nearly covered the hole it blocked. Rocks were not lacking in the region, the muddy ground had them surface, so it was innocuous, and it had been moved.
A hideout.
She had no time and could not push the rock in that form. The place was sealed to her. Yet from the air and smell alone she could tell what was under.
The humans had dug a cache for people and grain, and what for she could not tell. If not against raids that came too fast and targeted the cattle, then why? But in this one blood had been spilled in quantity. Brenin had bled there. He had to still be in that hole.
But another smell had come to her, that of the keep where food was being prepared. She could feel it flow from all the way down at the kitchen.
She rushed back toward the keep.
Already two people were approaching her room. Joan could not arrive in time. As a dog her speed was formidable, but the land weighed heavy on her ghostly form.
Those steps were from Adele and one of the twins. They knocked, then almost immediately opened. She could not see them and still knew they had stopped at her sight.
There she was, lying on the goat pelt, curled up in her shift, fists covering her face.
"She is asleep." Adele whispered. "Should we wake her?"
The twin was not answering.
"I will put her on the bed." She offered and took a step.
The noble held her back. Joan had crossed the drawbridge and was rushing through the bailey, a flurry of shapes she could not distinguish. Danger was eating her.
"Milord?"
"Go back." The brother ordered. "Leave us now."
Adele fretted at those words. She took a second or two to obey, but finally left through the hallway and that twin, left at the door, took a step in.
He closed behind him and faced the lady on the floor.
It was hard to tell just how feverish the noble was until he spoke again. His hand approached his belt, to the hilt, to hold his sword.
"You devil..." He muttered, then raised his voice. "Corentin doesn't care what happens to you."
Abelard could not see the spirit that had just appeared at the window. They were at almost equal distance of her body; she was still tense, but more confident.
Waiting for his move.
He approached. She hopped off the ledge and into the room. They both drew closer and she could see the brother trembling. That wasn't fear, or if it was it had another name.
"You hear me? You witch. You bring nothing but trouble."
His eyes were fixed on her neck, her shoulder, on the wool of that shift and her thin arms. While asleep she still looked wild, yet so fragile. He lingered on those closed eyes that expressed a strain he could not figure out.
This was because, even in this sleep, she still had to maintain her human form.
He broke off from the sight, beat the body with his foot.
"Eh! Wake up already."
Without a spirit, that body did not even react. He looked at that, at that limp reaction and all his trouble washed away, replaced by surprise.
Abelard crouched to shake her shoulder, to no avail. Joan was watching him call her just a breath away, angered.
So, she thought, it is when I do nothing that you desire me most.
But he had got up, turned around and yelled:
"Adele! Come quickly!"
It was still surprise, without a hint of fear, that guided his actions. The noble rushed to the door, still calling when it opened before him and Corentin showed up.
"What's going on here?!"
"She is not waking up."
Both twins exchanged glances then looked at the woman, her white hair, white skin and white shift in the early dusk.
But Joan had returned to her body, opened her eyes and forced her body awake. Corentin had barely approached when he saw her move and the illusion of death faded just as quickly as it had been born.
"Heavy sleeper..." He muttered.
"No, I swear, I..."
Abelard stopped there. He knew what he had seen, what he had felt, but the explanation was so simple and reasonable that the man began to doubt.
Joan had risen, noticed the two men looking at her and covered herself with her arms. Her eyes had regained their defiant expression.
"I would not want to separate you from the floor." Corentin grunted. "We will send you your meal later."
"There are caches."
They had been leaving already, turned back at her words.
"Holes big enough to hold people, hidden in your domain." The twins waited for her to continue. "The man you seek, Brenin, is in one of them."
Abelard reacted: "Brenin?"
"I will tell you later." His brother brushed it off, his eyes on her: "How long did you know?"
"Am I wrong?"
He kept looking at her, but the more Corentin looked, the more his eyes slipped to her chin, to the loose shift. The man sighed.
"We could not care less about the peasants and their schemes. They can dig holes and hide in them all they want. Here is a lesson for you: rats need to eat."
That, she winced, was the problem.
"But you, what's this Brenin to you? Why are you so interested in his fate?"
She found nothing to answer, nothing that would not damn her. So Joan just got up, snatched the blanket and used it to cover herself.
"If I told you I was cursed, milord, what would you say?"
"That I don't believe in fairy tales."
"Then I am nothing but a savage who lived in the woods for too long. But, milord, I must ensure that Brenin harms no one, not even a mouse."
"You mean to say he is family."
And before she could answer, Corentin had turned away, gestured for his brother to follow but Abelard stayed behind a few seconds longer, his gaze on her, so long that it made the other come back and tap on his shoulder.
"You coming?"
Abelard nodded. His eyes only left her once he disappeared in the hallway.