CHAPTER 8
Erynn received a very public scolding from Mirella for going out of her way to freshen the Royal Family's drinking water — as well a two-day extension to her dish sentence — but she barely heard a word. She had known searching Holden's solar would be dangerous and was just glad she hadn't been caught. She spent the rest of the day trying to stay out of Mirella's way and concentrating on her plan to read the history book on Krystalix later. She also thought a lot about what sort of answers she might find inside and as the day she passed grew even more eager to return to the study.
It was late when the king finally sent for his tea and she had already started the dishes. But she stopped what she was doing and heated some water over the fire, and when it was ready she poured some in a mug and made her way up the rear stairs. She found him standing by the window in his solar, gazing down at the stables.
"I brought the hot water, Your Grace," she said as she crossed to the table by the bed.
"Better make it a strong one," he replied. "I think I will need it tonight."
Erynn was already planning to make it strong. The last thing she needed was him still awake when she went to the study. "Yes, Your Grace."
The pitcher of water was on the table where she'd left it earlier and she set the mug down next to it and took a small parchment-wrapped package from the drawer. Inside were the dried leaves of a blackish-green plant. She dropped several pieces into the water, and as she gave them a stir she studied what was left and figured there was probably enough for two more cups. Then she'd have to get some more.
Her breath caught. Those dried leaves had just given her an idea.
She glanced at the king, but his attention was still outside. Erynn assumed he was watching the Galians. Most were staying in the barracks on the upper floor of the second stable and she had noticed a few talking out in the rear ward while she was heating the water. She turned back to the package of dried leaves and moved quickly, dumping the rest down her apron pocket. As she pushed the leaves down against the letter tube, they crumbled and several bits stuck to her hand and fell to the floor. Fortunately the stone was dark enough that she didn't think the king would notice, but she still used her foot to slide as many of the bits under the bed as she could. Then she picked up the spoon and continued stirring. "This is the last of it, Your Grace. I'll have to fetch you some more."
"The last?" the king said, turning his head.
"You asked for it strong."
The king thought about this a moment. "Yes, I suppose I did."
Erynn wiped at the front of her dress with her other hand, hoping none of the tea leaves were clinging to the fabric. "Will you want some after the banquet?"
The king snorted and started towards the bed. "I doubt I will ever sleep with Galians inside these walls."
Erynn waited, not wanting to appear too eager. "I could go early, Your Grace. As soon as the gate's up. Before Mirella needs me."
The king seemed about to respond, but then he paused and a strange look passed over his face. "Yes, that is a fine idea, Erynn. Do it first thing, but be quick. Mirella will no doubt need your help tomorrow." He eased himself down on the edge of the bed. "In fact, I want you to tell her when you return. Right away. Then she will know where you are in the morning and can plan for your absence."
Erynn hadn't planned to say anything to Mirella at all, afraid she would only insist on adding the tea to the list of food and other supplies she sent a wagon down to the village for every morning. But she didn't want the headservant asking about her either and the king finding out she'd disobeyed. "I will, Your Grace."
"Do you need my seal?"
"No, Your Grace," Erynn said, removing the spoon and carefully handing him the mug. "The herbalist knows who I am. And that it's for you. My mother used to buy herbs from him all the time. She said he was probably the best herbalist in all of Alyria."
The king said nothing, his eyes on the tea.
Erynn waited for him to dismiss her. "Will that be all, Your Grace?"
"Actually, there is one more thing," the king said. "Should Mirella or anyone else give you any trouble tomorrow, maybe try to stop you, I want you to let me know. Is that clear?"
Erynn thought it an odd request. "Why would anyone give me trouble, Your Grace?"
"Because of the banquet, I suppose. I know Mirella will need all the help she can get tomorrow, but I want that tea before I retire, and I want you to get it for me. Not her driver." He looked up and smiled. "You know the type to buy."
He had a bit of a pained look in his eyes, but Erynn just assumed he was tired and thought nothing more about it as she headed back down to the kitchen. She had the excuse she needed to go look for Sheldon and that was all that mattered. She just hoped the old falconer was around.
The stack of dishes waiting for her was twice as high as when she left, but Erynn was so pleased with herself and her new plans that she didn't mind the work. She told Mirella about the king's request and when the headservant complained and insisted on sending her driver, Erynn simply told her the king had been specific that she go — and why — and eventually, after much eye-rolling, she relented. But she warned Erynn to be quick and said that if she heard she'd been seen dawdling, she'd add more time to her dish sentence.
Erynn agreed and went back to work, and after a while the kitchen grew quiet, and only a few servants still remained there working. Laughter drifted in from the great hall now and then, but she didn't give it much thought. She was far too focused on her plan to read the history book later, and what she was going to say to Sheldon if she did find him in the morning. Falconry was illegal after all, so what she wanted to ask him wasn't exactly a small favor.
She had just grabbed another one of the meal trays off the pile and plunged it into the water when she heard footsteps enter the room.
"Where can a man get more ale?" came a loud voice from the front of the kitchen.
Erynn froze. She knew that voice without even needing to turn around. It was Marik.
Somewhere behind her, two of the remaining male servants started whispering.
"We'll have to fetch another keg, sir," one of them said, and then it sounded like both promptly left the room.
Erynn stood very still, staring down at the soapy water and the tray in her hand. Waiting for Marik's footsteps to head back to the great hall. Seconds passed before she heard them again, but instead of leaving the kitchen they were coming towards her, his boots ringing out on the stone floor. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she gripped the tray and somehow managed to resume her scrubbing.
Marik came right over to the wash basin, standing so close that his arm brushed hers and she could smell the ale on his breath. She tried to step aside, but was blocked by the table stacked with dirty dishes to her right.
"Does Mirella have you doing all of these yourself?" he asked.
Erynn finished the tray and reached past him to put it on another table to her left. "Yes, sir."
"Are you being punished? Or is this something you do every day?"
He seemed amused, but Erynn knew he wasn't there to ask about her chores. She grabbed another tray and pushed it down into the water. "I was late."
"I find that hard to believe. It was the king's fault, wasn't it? Keeping you late with his letters again?"
Erynn could feel the tube in her pocket, pressed between her, all of the mashed tea leaves, and the wash basin. "I was late."
For several moments, Marik remained quiet. Erynn was trying hard to concentrate on what she was doing, but it was awkward with him standing so close. She wished he would leave. Instead, he leaned closer.
"Are you loyal to His Grace, Erynn?"
The words came as a warm whisper against her cheek, giving her a chill, but Erynn continued scrubbing, rinsing the tray and reaching past him to put it on the other table. "Of course. He's the king."
"You do what he tells you? Even if it makes you late and Mirella punishes you?"
"Yes."
"Then why haven't you given the letter to Faris?"
Erynn kept her eyes down, hesitating for a second before grabbing another tray.
"Tell me the truth, Erynn. I know you still have it."
Erynn stopped and raised her head. His cheeks were lightly flushed, the whites of his brown eyes a little red. He'd clearly been drinking — she could still smell the ale on his breath — but not much. That wasn't his style. He had a smile on his face, but it wasn't one that made her feel any better. In fact, she had a feeling it was the same smile many Alyrians had seen right before they died. "Because I know the guards won't let Faris send it."
Marik laughed. "Smart girl. That must be why His Grace chose you to write his letters. Personally, I never really believed the rumors."
Erynn saw something in his eyes then, something very similar to what she had seen in Holden's the day before. Up in the king's study. Something that troubled her and at the same time left her a little annoyed. "What do you want?"
"What do you think I want?"
Erynn returned her attention to the tray and continued scrubbing. He was toying with her. Just like Adena said. "There's nothing secret in it. His Grace just wants Gareth to come home."
"And I would rather our brave prince stayed in Ridan."
Erynn tried not to look bothered by the comment, but from the tone of his voice it almost sounded like a threat. She kept scrubbing. She still wasn't going to give him the letter. Not after what she wrote on it. Not when she finally had an excuse to go to the village to find Sheldon. She rinsed the tray and reached past him to put it on the table, wondering what was taking the other servants so long with the ale.
Marik leaned back against the table, arms crossed over his chest. "Did His Grace tell you why he fears the Galians?"
Erynn gave a slight shrug and grabbed another tray, wishing again that he would just go away. "He fears for Alyria. And for his son."
"Everyone fears those things, Erynn. Naedra can be rather unstoppable when she sets her mind to something. What I want to know is if the king told you why else he fears them?"
Erynn paused and looked up at him again, curious now what he was talking about. But before she could respond, footsteps approached.
"Marik?" Mirella asked, concern in her voice. "Is there something you need?"
Erynn had never imagined the headservant's presence could make her feel so relieved, but a small part of her wished she hadn't shown up just yet. She wanted to know what Marik meant. Why else would the king fear the Galians?
Marik smiled. "Yes, Mirella. Ale. We seem to have run out. And I thought I would have a word with Erynn while I waited for your men to fetch more. Are you really making her do all these dishes by herself?"
For a moment, Mirella looked speechless. But then she fixed Erynn with a glare — a glare that told her she knew from Marik's presence that Erynn had been up to something and that she would somehow figure out what it was and make her pay for it. "Erynn continues to disrespect the rules of this kitchen."
"Seems to me such a smart young lady could be put to better use. She is the king's scribe, after all. At least let us see her pretty face in the hall? Serving meals perhaps?"
Mirella seemed a little flustered, obviously not caring for Marik making a suggestion about something she considered her domain, but she quickly gathered control of herself. "Is there anything else you need, Marik?"
Erynn waited for him to ask her for the letter. The letter she had already told Mirella she'd given to Faris. But he simply pushed himself away from the table and headed back across the kitchen toward the great hall.
"Just the ale, Mirella," he said. "Just the ale."
The Last Falcon: Book 1 of the Cael Stone Page 8