Ophelie came back along with a cook and three meals. She helped the noble take off his chainmail, let it fall heavily on the bench. With the hunter gone he forced her to sit and eat with them. The servant protested but folded just as quickly.
Adele would have to handle the bath on top of bed and clothes.
"I am Corentin of Pivert." The man finally presented himself.
He had broken the bread to offer some and Joan, Joan had no choice but to take it from him. Her other hand still had to hold the mantle over her tunic.
"You already met my brother, Abelard. What about our parents?"
She looked down: "I have only met lady Mirabelle, milord."
He raised an eyebrow, but for a moment before continuing.
"You will meet our father soon enough. Now, eat your fill."
Those words were meant to put her at ease, but his eyes lingered on her even as she obeyed. Steel blue eyes full of suspicion, weighing her and her every detail.
The woman at his side, Ophelie, was dutifully accompanying them. She would only glance at him while slowly swallowing, just as burdened by the silence.
So Joan broke it: "What is happening downstairs?"
"Nothing for you to care about. We hired mercenaries and they are discussing payment."
"Mercenaries. That sounds exciting."
"Lady Joan, those are the men who burned your domain to the ground."
She rose her head to meet his gaze, her surprise no lesser than his. From his words and that of his mother she had concluded the Cormoran family had succumbed to war.
Somehow he expected that to affect her.
But all she could muster was a smile. Mercenaries sounded like warriors. She was eager to meet that troup and maybe, even, to join them.
"Aren't you a bit calm" he continued "for someone who just lost family and land and sits with her conquerors?"
Now the thought of that drew a chuckle out of her. Nothing gentle, cracking like ice.
"My family…"
Both Abelard and Ophelie watched her hold back a laugh.
"Milord, pardon me but…" Again, she had to stop at another chuckle. "Why do you think you found me in the woods?"
"You fled the carnage."
Her shoulders were trembling and she had to hold the laughter not just for pride but to prevent her human looks from breaking apart.
The thought of humans murdering her pack was just too much. And she knew it wasn't what that human meant but couldn't resist picturing such a scene. Fantasizing, even, of getting rid of her past so gratuitously.
It was true. She had lost family and land all to be conquered by men.
"Carnage and ashes, I was not aware of any of it. My family shunned me, I was as good as dead to them and so them to me. Could I meet those mercenaries to thank them?"
"Why not thank us instead."
He had shot back, and he was right. The Pivert family had hired those men, the murder of the Cormoran was on their hands.
So she rose from the bench and, still cloaked, bowed again before him.
"For killing my parents and siblings, for murdering my people and burning my home, for ridding me of my name and heritage, thank you, I am deeply grateful toward the Pivert family."
Corentin, taken aback, only gestured for her to sit back. It had all sounded so sarcastic and yet, behind the cold mockery was a genuine, unmistakably sincere gratitude.
He just couldn't tell where the lies started with her.
"What about the food and shelter?" Ophelie remarked.
That made the noble laugh. He hit the table with his wrist.
"I had forgot about that! Stay sit, it's fine."
And he seemed willing to talk more, but returned to his thoughts until, abruptly, the noble left the table.
"I have lost my appetite. Take care of her and make sure to warn us when she is ready to meet father."
"Yes, milord." Ophelie got up in turn to bow to him.
She watched him leave and then felt Joan's eyes on her shoulders. She was alone in the great hall with that stranger who had just boasted about her family's death.
There was almost fear in that woman.
How could it be, Joan wondered, that humans feared her when she was submitting? There was still much she didn't understand from humans, and one thing above all.
"Lady Ophelie." She called her.
The servant spun with wide eyes. "Ah! Please, milady, don't call me that! I would get in trouble!"
"Ophelie, teach me about love."
"Where is that… coming from… Milady, please finish your meal, the lord might get angry if he is made to wait too long."
This time it was Joan who was stunned. She had just been told no, but in her whole life never had that answer been so indirect. If that was how humans were meant to answer, she indeed still had a lot to learn.
Downstairs the quarrel had subsided. Her human ear could hardly perceive anything anymore.
She quickly emptied her bowl, and the two others before that woman led her back to a room where, away from the bed, Adele had put a basin of water and stood near it, embarrassed. The heated stone had cracked in the bath.
Joan could not care less about that. Soon enough she was cleaned and they worked on dressing her.
For this Adele had brought a scarlet kirtle that she laced at the side, then a black surcoat tied at the waist by a leather belt and the shoulders lined with fur.
They were bringing her small boots when she heard more steps in the hallway.
The first person stopped and stayed behind the door, then another approached and greeted him. Both twins had come to see her.
"Is she ready?"
"Go and see."
He was about to but stopped at the closed door.
"She is in her bath, isn't she?" The man sighed.
"You're too late to peek. They should be finished dressing her."
The two servants inside didn't seem to notice their talk. Either they ignored it or Joan's hearing, somehow, was still better than her new peers.
"So, what do you make of her?"
"We should sell her to the mercenaries."
"Ah." The brother barely flinched. "And I had my hopes up."
"She is cold and heartless, incapable of affection. All she knows is carnal desire. If you are into that, by all means, burn yourself."
"Mh. That doesn't sound so bad. It depends on how quickly I would get tired of her."
Her heart sank.
So far they had flattered her and being sold or possessed both sounded desirable to her. But that last sentence had gripped her so hard as to steal her breath.
She didn't think, broke from the women even before the second boot was on her feet and walked to open that door. A storm of thoughts had failed to turn into words before she did and so she spoke without even thinking.
The twins' gaze was burning her.
"You won't get tired." She scowled. "Why would you ever turn your eyes away from me? What is it I lack, am I not strong? Am I not fierce? I have abandoned everything to come here and learn about love, so no one ignores me again. So teach me!"
They looked at her, her dress and then at each other.
"See what I mean?"
"Yeah, we should sell her."
They had that smug on their face, and their eyes barely skimming her, that had Joan simmering.
"Then sell me! I should at least fetch a good price."
"I will tell father you won't be ready until tomorrow."
By the sword's position on their belt, she guessed it was Abelard who had spoken. By his tone she could tell he was getting angry as well.
"Until then, do not leave that room. It is frightening that you take our joke so seriously. But if you speak like that in front of him, he will make it real."