"I've learned to accept the unexplainable and not consider myself mad," Finnikin said.
"When Tesadora revived me in the dungeons, I begged her to let me die. I was frightened. I knew the bastard king would come for me again. But she refused to leave me there. She half carried me out of the dungeons, both of us sobbing. Hers were tears of fury, mine of fear. How strange and unnatural a day it was, Finnikin. The palace village destroyed, the streets empty except for the dead who had been crushed under cottages. I could see people wailing against the kingdom walls, pounding them with their bare hands. On the road to the Flatlands, we passed those who looked like the walking dead, muttering about curses, claiming there was no way out of the kingdom. It was Tesadora and my villagers who buried my child. Down by the river." She shook her head, lost in her thoughts. "I think I buried your father that day as well."
"But he's alive," Finnikin said bluntly.
"One day I want you to take him down there, to the grave," she said. "So he can begin to heal. I see so much hurt in his eyes."
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"Why can't he heal with you?" Finnikin pushed.
"Because I am not even half the person he once loved."
"Some things don't change, Lady Beatriss. Can you ever bring yourself to love him again?"
"Oh, Finnikin," she said with great sadness. "After everything that has happened, how do any of us begin to love again?"
Later, Finnikin traveled the road to the palace with his mentor. "Did she speak?" Sir Topher asked.
Finnikin looked at him, surprised. "You left because you believed she would?"
"No, I honestly did want to see my childhood friend," he said with a smile. "But I could tell she needed to talk, and I learned years ago, Finnikin, that people divulge things to you that they would not divulge to anyone else."
"A good skill for the apprentice of the queen's First Man?" Finnikin asked.
"Way beyond the skill of an apprentice," Sir Topher said solemnly. "Or the queen's First Man, at that." He sighed, looking around. "Where do you think our boy is?"
"Froi? Who knows? If he's left the kingdom, I don't want to be the one to tell the queen. I've sent Sefton and the village lads out to search for him."
They heard the pounding of horses' hooves behind them, and a moment later Trevanion and Moss appeared.
"Something's wrong," Finnikin muttered, his heart hammering in his chest. Trevanion and Moss pulled up beside them, their expressions grim.
"Isaboe?" Finnikin asked.
Trevanion shook his head, and Finnikin could sense his father's suppressed rage. "It's the impostor king and his men," Trevanion said bluntly. "They're dead."
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***
CHapteR 28
Poisoned?" Trevanion, Finnikin, Sir Topher, and Moss walked through the dungeons, covering their noses and mouths with cloths. The impostor king and his men had obviously suffered long and painful deaths. One had managed to batter his head to a pulp against the dungeon wall in an attempt to end the agony.
"How?" Trevanion asked, fury in his voice.
"We do not know," the prison guard said quietly. "But we arrested the baker who supplied us with the loaves for the prisoners this morning."
"He confessed?"
The guard shook his head.
"This could only be the work of one who knows their poisons, so I'm hoping we've removed the queen from Tesadora's cloister," Finnikin said.
"Perri's already on his way," Trevanion replied. "He will take the queen to the Monts until she is ready to return to the palace."
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"We must treat this with care," Sir Topher said. "We cannot have a repeat of the past when it comes to those who worship Sagrami."
"Agreed," Trevanion said flatly. "But if Tesadora is responsible for what has happened here, she must be arrested."
"Surely you are not suggesting she's working with the Charynites to keep the impostor king from talking?" Sir Topher asked.
"We take no chances."
It took most of the day to ride to the cloister at the northwest tip of the kingdom. On the way, they passed the cherry blossom tree that had been planted in honor of the dead queen's youngest child, Isaboe. The cloister, where Perri had hidden Tesadora and the novices all those years ago, was one of the most ancient temples in the land. It was surrounded by woodland, where Trevanion's men were now positioned, some in the open, others concealed.
The cloister's entrance was a covered walkway, which led into circular gardens where the novices worked and meditated. Surrounding the gardens were the living quarters. Tesadora stood at the entrance, staring at the men impassively. Light played through the arched opening, and it made her look almost ghostly with her strange hair and beautiful face. Finnikin could not help wondering how such a tiny woman had managed to carry the much taller Beatriss out of the dungeons that day.
"There seem to be a lot of angry men in the vicinity, Captain," Tesadora said by way of greeting. "They are disturbing my girls."
"I'm hoping you made Perri's acquaintance this morning, Tesadora."
"The Savage and I are well acquainted, as you would know," she said coldly. "He had the queen removed from our cloister,
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much to the distress of both the novices and the queen."
Trevanion looked to one of his guards nearby. The guard nodded to verify her story.
"We would like permission to enter," Sir Topher said.
"I will not have my novices alarmed any further. I fear you will also have me removed from the cloister by force if I allow you to enter."
Finnikin was sure that Tesadora's only knowledge of fear was how to instill it in others. "Out of respect for the role you played in the survival of Lady Beatriss, my father will restrain himself, Tesadora," he said.
She stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time in the midst of the others. "Leave your men outside," she ordered. She turned and walked down the passageway. Trevanion, Sir Topher, and Finnikin followed.
"Do not speak for me again, Finn," his father warned in a low tone. "A poor captain I would make if all my decisions were based on how my loved ones were treated."
They walked through the gardens, aware of the stares from the novices. Those belonging to Sagrami were dressed in blue, those to Lagrami in gray. Most were young. "Finnikin of the Rock," he heard one whisper to another. "He belongs to the queen."
They reached the main temple, where Tesadora lit a candle.
"We have the impostor king and nine of his men lying dead in the palace dungeons. Poisoned," Sir Topher said after she had finished purifying the air with the scented smoke of the candle and a prayer to her goddess.
Tesadora held his gaze. "Are you accusing me, Sir Topher?" She turned to Trevanion. "Is this an arrest, Captain Trevanion? Or are you expecting me to shed tears for these... What did you call them? Men?"
"Our only evidence that Charyn was set to invade Belegonia
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through our kingdom has been destroyed," Trevanion said. "What would you do in our place, Tesadora?"
She gave a small laugh. "In your place I would declare this a day of joy for the people of Lumatere."
"Especially, perhaps, for those who worship Sagrami," Finnikin said.
"These past ten years the bastard king and his men have not discriminated between worshippers of Sagrami and those of Lagrami. All Lumaterans were victims of their reign of terror."
"The surviving Forest Dwellers?" Trevanion asked, indicating the woodlands. "Did they order the murder of the impostor king and his men, Tesadora?"
Tesadora ignored the question. "The Forest Dwellers have requested autonomy."
"No," Finnikin said firmly. "Your people belong to this kingdom. Autonomy will only make things worse for you."
"Those who worship Sagrami did not feel as if they belonged to this kingdom during the five days of the unspeakable. Is that not what you call those days?"
"The queen would never allow anything to happen
to the Forest Dwellers."
"And if something happens to the queen? We were protected under our previous king and queen, yet the moment they were gone, we were hunted like animals and slaughtered. Would you like to carry out your census here, Finnikin? Before your five days of the unspeakable, there were four hundred and thirty-seven Forest Dwellers. Today there are less than forty."
"They will be protected," Sir Topher said firmly.
"Despite what happens to me?"
"Have we treated you as the enemy?" Finnikin asked. "We need what you can teach us. We need to know about the magic."
"So you can control it? Cage it?"
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"Perhaps to celebrate it," Finnikin said. "So we can learn to be healers. Your young girls have skills."
"And you expect me to believe this is your reason for visiting today? When I'm here, answering your questions in an interrogation room?"
"No one is arresting you, Tesadora, and this is a temple," Sir Topher said.
"Yet your captain holds his sword, ready for attack."
"The baker stands accused of murder unless you can shed some light on what took place in the palace this morning!" Trevanion snapped.
There was no response.
"He will suffer for something you planned, Tesadora."
"And Beatriss suffered for something you did, did she not, Trevanion? The captain of the Guard who chose not to lie prostrate at the feet of the bastard king. But by our goddess," Tesadora swore, "they ensured that his lover lay prostrate at their feet. Continually. Dragged by her hair out of her home night after night. She was once the most envied of women in Lumatere when she was loved by the captain of the King's Guard. But nobody envied her during our years of captivity. She was their perfect weapon to keep our people in place. When they discovered she was alive and re-arrested her, the bastard king chose not to have her executed. No, he found a better use for the former lover of the captain of the King's Guard. 'See this woman,' he would taunt whenever his men dragged her broken and bruised body into the square. 'This is what will happen to your loved ones if you dare to challenge a king.'"
Sir Topher hissed with fury as Trevanion walked out of the room. Finnikin could not imagine what images had just passed through his father's head. He had been told tales of Beatriss's fate but had foolishly hoped his father would never hear.
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Sir Topher stared at Tesadora. "I have a better tale to tell," he spat. "The one where the captain sensed what would happen between himself and the impostor king. So he sent a message to his trusted friend Perri the Savage, telling him to take Lady Beatriss from her manor to the Valley of Tranquillity, where Lord August and Lady Abian had taken refuge. To leave her with them so she would be protected. But Perri was nowhere to be found that day and never received the message. You see, Perri was on his way to warn a childhood nemesis. Someone he believed his family had wronged for many years. Someone he believed deserved to live. I heard the sorry tale from Perri himself, still grief-stricken after all these years that he let his captain down. Imagine, Tesadora, if Perri had received Trevanion's message. Imagine the life Beatriss would have had with Lord August and his family in Belegonia."
Tesadora's mouth twisted with bitterness, but she failed to prevent the tears from welling in her eyes.
"Yet Perri never regretted his decision to travel this far to hide you and the novices of Sagrami. And I never believed he should regret it, nor Trevanion. Until perhaps today."
Finnikin went searching for his father. He found him stooped over with his back to the cloister, one hand against a tree. When Trevanion turned, he was wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, his face ashen. Sir Topher stood at the cloister entrance and they walked toward him in silence.
"We have no more business here today," Sir Topher said.
Tesadora appeared in the passageway behind him. Her face was still impassive, but her eyes had softened.
"It began with Beatriss's first child," she said. "Your child, Trevanion. My mother went to the stake with the child's blood on her hands. We believe that the blood, mingled with Balthazar's
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and Isaboe's, got caught up in the dark magic of the curse. And became its light."
Trevanion was silent.
"Because both the royal children and the babe were pure of heart?" Sir Topher asked.
"No," she said and Finnikin flinched as her eyes met his. Despite the strangeness of her hair and the darkness of her spirit, she was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
"No," she repeated. "I believe it's because a young boy made a sacrifice to keep the princess safe. Flesh from your body, Finnikin. But it cost you more than that."
He dared not look away.
"I was there in the square the day my mother died," she said, anger in her voice. "Even through her curse, while others ran, I stayed. She watched me come into this world, delivered me herself. So I watched her leave it. The perfect balance, don't you think?"
No one spoke.
"I saw you that day," she continued, her eyes fixed on Finnikin's. "Saw what you did. I keep a dagger with your name on it, Finnikin of the Rock. My only consolation in mourning my mother is that she did not feel those flames for too long."
Finnikin heard Trevanion's and Sir Topher's intake of breath, saw the shock on their faces.
"What did Finnikin's actions have to do with making contact with Queen Isaboe outside Lumatere?" Sir Topher asked.
"I know as much as you do, Sir Topher. The dead do not send a guide or explanation. We work things out for ourselves. I met Lady Beatriss in the dungeons of the palace, where she lay clutching a dead child. After returning her to Sennington, I did not see her again for another five years. The darkest of years. And then one day, in the fifth year of our captivity, Lady Beatriss arrived on
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the doorstep. Just over there," she said, pointing to the entrance. "In the early hours of the morning. And she did not come alone." She turned to where a young woman knelt in the garden, planting. "Japhra?"
The girl walked toward them, and Finnikin realized she was one of the novices who had been in Tesadora's cart the day they entered Lumatere. She was short, almost stout. Her eyes were deerlike, her sable-colored hair thick and lush.
"Friends of Lady Beatriss, Japhra," Tesadora said. "Can you fetch us some tea?"
When the girl left, Tesadora walked them back inside to one of the rooms in the cloister.
"The night she came to me, Beatriss had smuggled Japhra out of the palace and they rode through the dark to find us. Japhra of the Flatlands was twelve. Taken from her family by the bastard king to do with whatever he pleased. She was almost catatonic, and even today her spirit is damaged."
Finnikin shuddered.
"I had been trying unsuccessfully to contact my mother through the magic of the goddesses and had failed repeatedly. That all changed the night I was reacquainted with Lady Beatriss. Japhra wasn't the only reason she came to see me. Let's just say it was for ... medicinal purposes."
"She was with child?" Trevanion asked.
"I don't think I need to tell you that if this conversation ever goes beyond us --"
"You'll poison us?" Trevanion said.
She sent him a scathing look. "It would shatter Beatriss's heart if you knew why she came to see me that night, and we don't want to go around doing that, do we, Captain?"
"She wanted to rid herself of the babe inside her?" Finnikin asked.
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"I don't think she knew what she wanted. But she was exhausted from the ride, so I allowed her to stay the night. The girls and I had had very little contact with the rest of the kingdom up until that point. I had twelve of the forty remaining Forest Dwellers in my care in the cloister, as well as the priestess of Lagrami and her girls. I trusted no one with their lives."
The girl returned and poured the tea with trembling hands.
"Thank you, Japhra," Trevanion said quietly.
She nodded
and left them.
"That night, the spirit of my mother came calling. I felt her. As if she were holding me somehow. She spoke words to me that I could not recall the next morning, until Beatriss told me of her strange sleep. She had dreamed she held her first child in her arms. And the child had spoken to her. Delivered a message."
The three men waited.
" 'The child of Beatriss will share dreams with our heir, who will set us free.'"
She took in the looks of shock and disbelief on their faces.
"You could argue that it was the need of two grieving women, one for her mother and one for her child. But at such times, gentlemen, you grab at any sign of hope. You grab it with both hands and breathe life into it, day after day. You do anything to keep it alive.
"We talked about it, the priestess of Lagrami with us, all day and night, putting forward different theories. Seranonna and the child died on the same day and we believed that my mother carried Beatriss's child to the heavens to be protected by our goddess. That night in our cloister, your child came looking for her mother, Trevanion."
"What magic did you use to contact Isaboe?"
"None. It's beyond even my power or knowledge. I can heal because my mother taught me what plants and flowers to use.
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It's what I teach the novices. Japhra is one of our most talented. But healing and magic are different things. One must be very powerful to make contact with another through the sleep. A spirit so strong, full of all things good and all things wicked. An ability to look into the darkness and find a light."
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