by Laura R Cole
*
Wren followed the now-familiar trail to the edge of the stream where he had met with Lise. The woods were quiet. He sat down next to the rushing water and dipped a finger in distractedly. A few minnows fought against the current to nibble at them. He moved and they darted away, seeming to fairly fly across the water.
After more than an hour, Lise still hadn’t come. Usually, she didn’t make him wait this long. He had convinced himself that she couldn’t possibly have meant what she said. But he’d been wrong. Apparently, he’d said or done something to offend her, and now she didn’t want to see him anymore.
He stood, tossing a stick he’d been playing with into the stream. He watched as it was carried away, bouncing against rocks and thrown around like a ragdoll. Sighing, he turned away and began the arduous trek homeward. At the edge of the clearing, he paused and looked back, hoping beyond hope that she’d suddenly appear like she had the habit of doing. She’d give him that knowing smile and ask where he was going.
But she didn’t appear. Trudging home, Wren fought down the burning pain within him. He really liked this mysterious woman.
When he returned glumly to the palace and was arriving at his chamber, he saw with surprise that Rhys was approaching.
“Rhys, what brings you to my humble abode?”
“I was hoping that I could speak with your father,” Rhys answered.
“Okay. Am I to take it from your presence here rather than at his chamber that you’d like me to go with you?”
Rhys grinned. “The last time I saw your father, I may have been sprinting away while he batted at me with a broom. I believe it was some sort of incident with a flower I thought would go lovely in a young maiden’s hair that he’d apparently been saving for something special.”
“Oh yes,” Wren nodded, “I remember. He was furious for weeks about that. He’d been working on a hybrid rose to match the color of my mother’s eyes for years and had finally come up with the right shade.”
“Sorry about that,” Rhys muttered.
Wren rolled his eyes. “Alright, let me just put this stuff down and we’ll go see him.”
Wren led the way to his parents’ chambers. On the way, he asked about the Princess. “How is Phoenix holding up?”
Rhys gave him a knowing grin, which Wren ignored. “She’s doing as well as can be expected I suppose. Unfortunately, not only is there the latest accusation about her, but the rumors are not lessening in the least. And they seem to be getting more and more specific. That incident when we were super-young where she missed a play due to a temper tantrum has been circulating around even though I’m pretty sure only a few people knew about that. Even more disturbing is that people know about the voices she used to hear in her head. You remember,” Rhys asked, turning towards him and lowering his voice, “her imaginary friends?”
Wren nodded, the blood rushing from his face.
Rhys didn’t notice. “Stories about specific incidents involving these voices are getting more detailed and more malicious. Whoever the instigators are, they are spreading it around like these voices were really her hearing the thoughts of others. You can only imagine how that sparked the accusation.”
“Yes,” Wren agreed, his mouth dry. Luckily, they reached his parent’s chambers just at that moment, and he was spared replying further. When Wren knocked on the door, Aaron answered with a smile for him and a thin-lipped stern expression for his friend.
Rhys had the couth to look ashamed. After the usual pleasantries, his father got straight to the point.
“So I take it you’re not here just for a visit,” he asked, looking at Rhys.
“No, sir,” the boy replied. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“And why, may I ask, would I want to do a favor for you, of all people?”
“Not for me, for the Princess.”
His father was silent for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Very well. What can I do for her?”
Rhys pulled the plant out of his pocket. Wren suddenly understood his friend’s reasoning for asking for Aaron’s help. Father is the master of all things in the plant kingdom.
“Can you tell me what this is, and why someone might want it?”
Aaron took the branch from Rhys, eyeing the torn end with disapproval. He examined it a moment. “This is nightswort. It is used to calm the nerves. I often use it in my sleep aids.”
“Are there any other uses for it?” Rhys pressed.
“None that I am aware of.”
“How strong is it? Could it cause someone to actually fall asleep or used in high enough amounts cause someone to fall into a coma?”
Both Wren and Aaron saw where Rhys was going with this. Aaron shook his head sadly, “I’m afraid that this isn’t your culprit. Other than help with anxiety, it will do no one any harm.”
Rhys sighed. “He just couldn’t sleep,” he murmured under his breath. He stood, holding out his hand to Wren’s father. “Thank you, sir, I appreciate your help.”
Aaron took the offered hand and shook it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more helpful.”
Rhys left the room and Aaron turned to Wren.
“And you, son? Are you staying for dinner?”
“I’d love to, Father, but I have something I need to take care of. Forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive,” Aaron admonished, giving him a hug. “I know you have lots of important adult things to accomplish nowadays.” There was an expression of hurt behind his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it, and Wren felt a pang of guilt. However, a horrible thought had just sprung to mind that was too awful not to look into right away.
Hurrying towards the library, Wren barely noticed his surroundings. Lise had said she couldn’t see him anymore because she “couldn’t do it” anymore. Just what was “it”? How many people knew about Phoenix’s imaginary friends? Eight? Ten? And he’d gone and told a strange woman in the woods. The story of the assassination attempt he’d shared was a rather large coincidence to have suddenly started running around the rumor mill. What if Lise had been playing him all along? How stupid he was to have trusted a beautiful woman who spent all her time wandering the forest.
He increased his pace, closing the distance between him and the shelf he was after in record time. He scanned the titles of the books until he found the one he was looking for. Pulling it from the shelf, he blew dust off the cover and cracked it open. He ran his finger down along page after page, searching.
Finally, he found it: a list of the houses that laid claim to that section of the forest. It gave the names of several woodcutters, an herbalist, and a few random names, but none that were Lise. And nothing that would suggest a lone maiden living anywhere around those parts. So who was she really?
He closed the book, sneezing as the dust billowed up into his face, and left the library. He made his way to one of the common rooms of the palace where someone was sure to be gathered, and searched for a face he knew. He spotted Regina, a pretty girl of high noble birth who still managed to be nice to everyone.
“Good evening, Regina,” he greeted her politely.
“Wren,” she nodded acknowledgement, “What brings you here?”
The question was a bit insulting – why wouldn’t he be here? – but in fairness he rarely was, and she didn’t seem to have meant it in offense. He simply answered, “I was hoping to ask some questions.”
“About what?”
“Rather who,” he replied. “Do you know anything about a lady by the name of Lise? She lives in the forest beyond the city of Bramsville.”
Regina thought a moment. “No,” she answered. “I’ve never heard of anyone living out there. The name certainly isn’t familiar, so she can’t be nobility. Otherwise I would know her.”
Wren doubted the girl realized how stuck-up she sounded. Instead of pointing it out to her, he simply thanked her and moved on. He asked everyone in the room
the same question, and received a roomful of the same answer. No one had ever heard of the name Lise, and no one could tell him who lived in that forest.
It was not altogether surprising since by her own admission she avoided people, but it was strange that not even one person had ever even heard of her. She had to come into town sometime, didn’t she?
Unless, as he was beginning to suspect, she didn’t really live there at all. Unless she was really only there to pry information out of him about the Princess Phoenix. Rhys’s comments that the latest rumors involved the stories of Phoenix talking to her imaginary friends had sparked his first concerns. That information was not common knowledge to any but those who had grown up with her, and it wasn’t something that you normally shared about the Princess. Except that he had shared it – with Lise – right before the rumors began incorporating this unfortunate tid-bit into its poison.
Was it possible that Lise had been using him all along to garner information for the traitors? Wren returned to his room with this unsettling thought and a very heavy heart.