by Sam Ledel
Eventually, her shoulders relaxed. But as they did, choking coughs erupted from the other side of the room. Jastyn ran to Alanna as her sister’s body writhed, and a fit overtook her.
“Shh, I’m here. It’s okay.”
Alanna sat up and continued to cough, sleep in her eyes. Jastyn watched helplessly as Alanna gripped the blanket tighter, her body doubled over.
“It’ll be over soon. It’s okay.” Jastyn moved to lie behind her sister. Alanna’s coughs shook them both. Then Alanna reached for a rag next to her bed and covered her mouth to quiet the coughs. When her body finally relaxed and her hand moved from her face, Jastyn’s gaze fell on the dark red splotch crumpled in her sister’s hand.
* * *
“How is she?”
Jastyn, having settled Alanna back to sleep, walked into the front room of their home and met her mother’s gaze. The dimly lit space functioned as a kitchen and common room, with a cluttered hearth always playing host to a burning fire beneath charred and aging pots. Branna, Jastyn’s mother, sat in a wooden chair before the flames.
“She’s all right. For tonight.” Jastyn walked to the fire and warmed her hands.
Silence sat comfortably between them, a sign of a lifetime of easy companionship as friends as well as family. Jastyn nudged the gathered gray ash with the toe of her wool sock, pushing it closer to the crackling logs.
“She’s been like this every night for three weeks.” Her mother’s voice gave the slightest semblance of how tired she was, but her youthful face hardly revealed the long days and even longer nights spent mending another torn pant leg for Jastyn or seeing to Alanna when she was too ill to go into town for a reading lesson. Short and compact, her mother only took up half the chair, and her woolen sleep shirt draped well past her knees. One callused hand brushed aside strands of thick auburn hair, which she wore in a braid twisted loosely down her back. Her sheepskin socks, which Jastyn had made for her three years ago, were beginning to fray at the edges. Coran always told Jastyn she resembled her mother; both had freckled faces and straight, sharp noses set above thin lips. But unlike Jastyn, her mother’s fair skin turned pink in the summer sun—a trait she passed on to Alanna.
“The village alchemist gave her another medicine, but I’m afraid it’s not working either.” Her mother spoke calmly, concerned yet reserved. But Jastyn could see the deep worry in the frown at the corners of her mouth.
Jastyn kept her voice low as she stared into the fire. “No, it’s not working. Nothing has.” Then Jastyn turned to face her. “She is up with the moon, coughing for an hour each night. And it’s only getting worse.” She paused. “What about Eegit?”
Her mother sighed. “Jastyn.”
“Why not? Nothing the alchemist prescribed her is working. His herbs are nothing but bandages. And each time he gives her something new, Alanna gets even sicker. Eegit might be able to do something that he can’t.”
“Jastyn, you know I have no problem with you visiting Eegit. In fact, I am grateful to her for keeping my oldest daughter out of trouble…most days.” Her mother smiled, and Jastyn couldn’t help but return it.
“So, why can’t she help?”
“Because, love, she’s a brewer of spells and curses—not a learned member of alchemy. Knowing her, she would have your sister dancing nude in the rain while drinking a bowl of wolf’s blood.”
Jastyn snorted at the image. “But it might work.”
Her mother shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jastyn. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Alanna needs a real healer.”
Jastyn ignored the prick behind her eyes at her mother’s distrust, even if she had a point. As she knelt to prod the dying flames with a charred stick, she bit her lip and said, “What if we appeal to Queen Diarmaid?”
Her mother was quiet, only shifting one leg up and tucking it close to her chest. Encouraged by the silence, Jastyn went on.
“Everyone knows the queen is a brilliant healer. The entire village speaks of her charity to those who have called upon her. She helped Coran’s mom, remember? When she fell into the river three winters ago and nearly froze to death?”
Her mother nodded. “I remember.”
“Why not ask if she can do something, anything for Alanna?”
Another moment of silence, then, “You know why.”
Jastyn clenched her jaw, stoking the fire more. “It’s not fair.”
“Jastyn.”
“No.” She turned on her knee to face her mom. “Why do you continue to let our circumstances confine us to less than we deserve? What happened to you was so long ago.” Jastyn reached for her mother’s hand. “We are in the light now with Elisedd and Alanna. There is hardly anyone who remembers what we—you—went through.”
Her mother watched Jastyn intently. The lines around her eyes crinkled when she cupped Jastyn’s face in her free hand. “There is a difference between letting your past define you and knowing where you stand.”
Jastyn searched her mother’s eyes, and in them, she saw what she would once again have to do. Jastyn nodded and looked at her own hands holding her mother’s, or rather, shielding them. She would have to take hold of this situation, like when she and her mother hardly had a scrap to eat after being released from the dungeon and banished to this patch of land near the Wood when Jastyn was born. Or when her mother gave Jastyn her only pair of boots for her tenth birthday so she could go out to practice hunting with Eegit before the harshness of winter was upon them. Or when, Jastyn learned, her mother wasn’t entirely turning a blind eye each time Jastyn came home from the market with more than their weekly allowance afforded them.
Jastyn knew, as her mother’s gaze drifted toward Alanna’s coughs, that she would have to find a way to make her sister better. Slowly, her mother stood and disappeared into the bedroom, carrying a damp rag for Alanna. And as Jastyn watched her go, she knew that her mother would not truly mind if her gan ’athair daughter went out and fought for their family’s survival once again.
Chapter Five
“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Coran opened the waist-high wooden gate outside the royal stables where the grazing meadows stretched out and ran into the Wood. Jastyn, having crept from the trees after skirting the castle’s walls, grinned and hurried through the gate. Her dark blue cloak covered her hair and half her face. As Coran latched the fence closed behind her, he sighed. “Actually, you know what? I can believe it.”
“Hush.” Jastyn tugged his gray tunic sleeve as they walked quickly across the field where knee-high grass brushed against their pants. “You owed me one.”
“Did I?” Coran glanced over his shoulder. His hazel eyes were clouded beneath a worried brow.
Jastyn shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t remember.” She bumped his arm. “Don’t worry so much.”
“Yeah,” he said, “last time you told me to do that, we were chased from the brook by an angry water nymph.”
Jastyn laughed. “She was too uptight.”
Coran rolled his eyes. While Jastyn lowered her hood, he glanced around. She saw a trio of horses nearby. Two were chestnut brown, fit creatures, though small in stature. The third was nearly all black with the exception of a clover-shaped splotch of white on her neck and another above her left front hoof.
“Pretty thing, ain’t she?”
Jastyn nodded. “The king’s?”
“The queen’s. Her name is Keller. Lately, though, the princess has taken her out more.” He looked around. “She should be back with Tully any time now.”
Jastyn picked at the dirt beneath her nails, half listening. “Tully…her maiden?”
“No, Tully is the kingdom’s best mare. She’s always the princess’s show horse at the summer solstice festivities.”
Her gaze was on the stable door that led into the castle. “Never bothered goin’ to those much.”
Seeming to realize what he said, Coran nodded. “Well, the princess should be back soon. The sun is just over the western hills. Best to w
ait here.”
At this, Jastyn frowned. “You said you could get me in to see the queen.”
Coran ran a freckled hand through his shock of red hair. “I want to help you, Jas. I do. But you can’t walk in to the castle and expect an audience with Her Majesty.”
“Which is why I was going to ask politely.”
Coran shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
Jastyn’s face grew hot, her fists clenched at her sides. “You know how tired I am of hearing that?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Jastyn pulled the hood of her cloak back over her braid. “I’ll take it from here.” She stalked off, her steps heavy on the grass as she hurried toward the thick doors.
“Wait, Jastyn. You can’t just barge in there. You don’t even know where to go!”
Watch me. The sound of hooves sounded behind her. She glanced back past Coran. Two horses and riders galloped in from the Wood. But Jastyn was tired of waiting. She needed to get to the queen. She needed to ask for help. She wasn’t about to let her family down now.
As Coran cried out for her to wait, she pushed the wooden doors inward and slipped silently into the stables. One way or another, Jastyn would get what she needed.
* * *
Aurelia eyed Drest warily as they trotted toward the edge of the stable fence. Throughout their nearly two-hour ride down to the river, she had tried to ignore everything from his kicks to Tully’s flanks to the way he tended to lean to the right in his saddle. It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust Drest with Tully, it was only that she knew Tully best. Aurelia huffed as they pulled their reins to slow the horses. She winced when Drest tugged for two seconds too long. She had bitten her tongue long enough, she decided as she dismounted. And that, as her mother would say, was a victory in itself.
“You can leave her to me,” she said, stepping over to Tully and reaching for her reins.
Drest raised an eyebrow, then swung his leg over to dismount, landing with a thud on the other side of the horse. “Fear not, dear princess. Tully yet stands tall and strong.”
Aurelia scrunched up her face, tucking it close to Tully, who neighed when Aurelia patted her mane. She whispered apologies to the horse, prompting a chuckle from Drest. She was about to say something when the stable boy scurried over, reaching for her horse’s reins after a quick bow.
“M’lady. Sir,” he added to Drest, who was laughing as he removed his riding gloves and brushed a hand through his blond locks. “How was the ride today?”
“Oh, fine. Though I’m afraid Aurelia may never let me near her precious Tully again for fear I may send the beast to the next eastern wind.” The stable boy, seemingly confused by Drest’s comment, only smiled. Aurelia noticed him glancing toward the doors that led into the stables. Drest was still talking as Aurelia helped the boy remove the saddles. “But fret not, Princess.” Drest flourished his gloves after re-buckling his sword, which had been strapped to Tully’s side. “Your mare is safe. Thank you, Your Highness, for allowing me the great pleasure of sitting atop a lady such as her.” He winked.
Aurelia flattened the skirt of her navy riding dress, not even trying to hide her disgust. “You, Drest, are absolutely revolting. I am ashamed to call you my brother’s friend.”
“But am I not yours too, m’lady?” He went to grab her hand to kiss it. She yanked it away, prompting laughter from Drest. “Oh, come now, Aurelia. I only jest.”
She pulled back her shoulders while eyeing the stable boy as he fidgeted with the reins. He seemed jumpier than usual. When he glanced again at the castle doors, she placed her hands on her hips.
“Boy,” she called. “Coran, is it?”
The freckled boy nearly latched his own hand in the gate.
“Look at you, Princess. Getting to know the help.”
She ignored Drest’s comment and moved toward the boy. “Coran. May I ask you, is there something the matter?” She wondered if there had been more news of the uprisings. Perhaps her father had called another meeting or informed the castle staff of a possible threat. That would explain this boy’s look of terror. His eyes were so wide she thought they might sprout legs and trot off on their own.
“M’lady?” he stammered. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
She wandered toward the latched gate that opened to a stone-leaden path, which led to the stable doors. Aurelia lifted her skirt as the mud kicked up beneath her riding boots. Upon closer look, she noticed the door into the castle stood ajar. She spun around.
“Who’s in there?”
This time, the boy flushed and ducked his chin as he stammered a response. “M…m’lady. I…I only forgot to close the door when I went in not an hour ago to…water the livestock.”
“A lie if I’ve heard one,” Drest muttered from the side of his mouth, leaning—amused—against a pile of haystacks.
Aurelia shot him a look. “Coran, tell me the truth. Please. I won’t say a word to my father or mother. But if you are helping rebels sneak into the castle—”
“Rebels?” The boy’s face went from dread to shock. “Do you mean to say there’s war brewing, m’lady?”
“No,” Aurelia said quickly. “I…Drest, some help, please?”
Drest was picking mud from his boots with the tip of his sword when he looked up. “Why don’t you go inside and look for yourself, Your Majesty?” He grinned and returned to his boots.
“Your Highness, really, there’s nothin’ to see. I…I may have let a rat past me earlier and I was tryin’ to chase it out…”
He trailed off as Aurelia, with a defiant look at Drest, puffed out her chest, pulled up her dress sleeves, and walked across the path to the stable doors. She paused only briefly before nodding to herself in encouragement. Then she pushed into the castle’s stables, determined to prove she was as capable as the boys at handling things. Or yet, even better.
Chapter Six
The stables were drafty and musty, and Aurelia imagined it had to do with the open windows that, despite the wind, never actually let any air in or out of the vast, open room full of animals, half-open barrels of feed, and stacks of hay. The air seemed especially stagnant now in the first days of summer. The newly thatched roof groaned overhead, the planks hoisting it up shifting. She resisted the urge to lift her riding skirt over the straw and manure coating the floor, knowing Drest walked behind her. The nearly dozen square-cut windows lining the walls, while seemingly incapable of letting in even the slightest breeze, allowed blocks of fading sunlight to fall on the western side of the large room. Still, overall, the space was dim and growing darker by the minute as Aurelia walked down the dirt aisle running through its middle. Torchlight provided rays of orange across otherwise black shadows.
Chickens clucked in a coop to her left, and a few flapped their wings as she passed, as if perturbed at their evening visitor. Barrels of chicken feed lined the low wall beside the birds, and Aurelia covered her nose when she and Drest approached the pigpen, where two sizeable sows and one gilt grunted and bumped one another on their way to the trough. The boar, half covered in mud and slop, slept in a far corner.
“Look, Princess. Isn’t that your great Uncle Harbin in the sty?”
Aurelia glared over her shoulder at Drest, but in doing so, tripped over a stray bucket. The bustle sent the chickens fluttering in a fury, and the contents of the bucket spilled out and onto her freshly shined riding boots.
In a huff, she spun around. “Thank you very much.”
Drest cackled, one hand on his waist. “Slop is a good look on you.”
Boiling, Aurelia pulled her shoulders back and ignored the stench coming from the hem of her skirt. She briefly wished Brennus was there, if anything to act as a buffer, as he usually did, between her and Drest. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like Drest or wasn’t used to his comments. Sometimes, though, he was simply too proud for his own good. Heading for the horse pens at the end of the room, she imagined Brennus alongside them. Would he have gone barreling i
nto the barn as she did? Come to think of it, she really didn’t give Coran much of a chance to explain. She shook her head. Nonsense. Brennus would want to get to the bottom of this, just like she did. Why should she worry? She could deal with this without her brother.
A loud crash followed by a shrill clang came from the far end of the stables, not thirty yards from where they stood.
Drest’s laughter ceased. “A rat, surely.”
Aurelia, her determination shrinking, looked from him to the farthest horse pen: Tully’s stable. The horses were all outside grazing under Coran’s watch. Unless, he too, had crept in here without her knowing. Perhaps she was hasty in investigating. She closed her eyes and conjured Brennus. It’s all right to be afraid, he had told her during one of their training sessions. You can use fear. Harness it and unleash it when you need it most. Taking a deep breath, Aurelia touched her left index finger to her thumb as she stepped toward the source of the sound. The red saol began to glow within her cupped palm.
Drest, following several steps behind, whispered, “Do you really think that will be necessary?”
“Shh!”
Now halfway to the final, dimly lit stable, Aurelia’s gaze fell on the tall door at the end of the narrow dirt path. The door that led to the other side of the castle and toward the servant’s kitchen had been tinkered with. Squinting, she saw a pin inside the wide keyhole. It was a simple one, like the kind Roisin used to keep her braids pinned back.