“Have you received any recent communications from the Ohanzee?” Raysel asked once the curtain dropped into place behind them.
“Indeed, I have. Both letters arrived yesterday, in fact,” Gasparo said.
“Both? There was more than one?”
Gasparo nodded in affirmation. “One came sealed, bearing instructions to burn it after two weeks. The other was addressed directly to me, which was a bit baffling. I’m glad you’re here because I’m not quite sure what to make of it. It’s written as if it were from a distant relative of mine who lives in Marise, but I don’t have any relatives living outside of Chiyo.” He went to the fireplace and pulled one of the bricks out of place. Behind it was an empty space just large enough to store the letters and a handful of small trinkets.
Now, Raysel’s curiosity piqued. “I will begin with that letter if you don’t mind.” He took both envelopes and skimmed the contents of the one addressed to Gasparo first.
The letter did, indeed, give the impression of being from a distant relative in Nyx, the capital city of Marise, but Raysel recognized the neat, precise handwriting as Ildiko’s. The opening lines carried customary greetings, generic commentary on the weather, and updates on the activities of various—apparently fictional—nieces and nephews.
Raysel shared Gasparo’s confusion about the letter’s purpose until he reached the bottom. The very last paragraph mentioned that an illness had begun to spread through Nyx. It detailed the symptoms and lamented that the sickness seemed to be resistant to the modern medicines commonly used by Marisianne doctors. Fortunately, an alternative treatment had been found that was suitably effective. The letter went on to describe ingredients for the remedy and suggested it would be wise to keep the concoction on hand in case the illness eventually reached Rhea.
Very clever, Ildiko, Raysel thought.
“The point of this letter is to disseminate the cure for a disease that is spreading through Marise without revealing the information came from the Ohanzee,” he said, handing the letter back to Gasparo. “Play along with the story that this is from a distant relative, and see to it that these instructions are distributed to all the practitioners of medicine in the city. If the illness ever does spread to Rhea, your doctors will be well prepared.”
“How ingenious,” Gasparo said. “I will do as you say immediately.”
“I appreciate your eagerness, but be careful not to call attention to yourself in your haste. The illness hasn’t made its way here yet, so you can afford to share the information discreetly.”
“Of course,” Gasparo agreed.
Raysel smirked. He was beginning to think that “of course” might be Gasparo’s favorite thing to say. Turning his attention to the second envelope, he lifted the seal with his thumb and withdrew the paper inside. The message, this time in Hania’s purposeful but shaky strokes, confirmed what he already suspected. Ildiko had been able to find an appropriate cure from within the medical texts housed in the Archives. The cure’s effectiveness had already been verified by successful treatment of some patients in Niamh with symptoms similar to those described in the prophecy. Hania was now using his network of contacts to distribute Ildiko’s instructions throughout Chiyo.
There was a postscript at the bottom where Hania’s writing became tightly spaced and uneven, giving the appearance that the lines had been added in a hurry. It advised that they acquire the ingredients for the remedy as soon as possible and add them to the medical kit Ildiko had sent with them. Raysel chuckled inwardly. There was no doubt in his mind that Ildiko had been impatiently hovering over Hania’s shoulder dictating what to write.
Gasparo eyed him curiously as he folded the paper and returned it to the envelope, but Raysel felt no need to divulge anything about the contents. He slipped the letter into a pocket sewn into the inner lining of his vest and withdrew the two envelopes he brought with him. “Both of these should be sent back to the village at the first opportunity.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Gasparo said. “I’ll send a pigeon this afternoon to summon the designated courier.”
Having concluded his business with Gasparo, Raysel stepped out from the side street into the city square. Since his path took him past the hospital, he briefly considered stopping in to see Rian again, but one glance at the clock tower told him that morning visiting hours had recently ended. Unlike Gasparo’s shop, the businesses here in the city square were bustling with customers. Raysel meandered down the sidewalk, matching his pace with those walking around him. He couldn’t resist chuckling to himself as he walked under the sign for In Stitches, the tailor shop located next to the hospital. Just then, the hospital door swung open and a familiar figure emerged.
“Caeneus!” he called out, but Nerissa was too far ahead to hear him over the clamor of the square.
Raysel picked up his pace, effortlessly dodging through the crowd until he reached her. “Caeneus,” he said again at the same time that she turned to see who had approached. He was surprised to see a pensive expression on her face, but it quickly lightened at the sight of him. “I didn’t know you were planning to go out this morning.”
“Raysel, I’m glad to see you,” Nerissa said. “I decided to pay Rian a visit, and I brought him some cherry cobbler.” She held up the bag in her hand for him to see.
“Is Rian alright? You look a little shaken.”
She tilted her head to the side and drew a deep breath. “I suppose I am a little shaken but not because of Rian. Or perhaps I should say that it’s not because there is anything wrong with Rian.”
Raysel’s brow creased. “Could you be more cryptic? I can almost understand what you’re trying to say.”
Nerissa responded by sniffing and giving him a wry look. “You didn’t give me a bottle of perfume for my birthday, did you?” she asked.
“A bottle of perfume? No, I gave you two of Pan’s pastries,” he answered.
“Just the pastries?” she persisted.
“Yes, just the pastries,” he said, feeling surprised and a little hurt that she didn’t remember the gifts clearly. While the present certainly hadn’t been expensive, he thought it would hold sentimental value for her. “That’s why I didn’t want you to share one with me. I didn’t want to eat half of your gift. How are the pastries related to Rian?”
“I’m getting to that,” Nerissa answered. “I found two gifts in the pocket of my cloak on my birthday: the two pastries and a bottle of strawberry and rose scented perfume.”
Raysel stopped short. He reached out, taking Nerissa’s upper arm and pulling her to a stop as well. “The scent that you used to wear every day?”
“More specifically, the one I wore to the masquerade,” Nerissa said. “I thought the bottle had also been from you, but I found out it was actually from Rian.”
“So he knows…,” Raysel let his voice trail off, afraid to say anything more in public.
“He said that we met at the masquerade, and he recognized me when we met again during our first sparring match,” Nerissa explained.
A woman bumped into Raysel’s shoulder as she passed by carrying a bushel of potatoes. She called out an apology, but the incident was enough to make Raysel worry that they may be drawing attention. “Let’s keep walking as we talk, and be careful what you say,” he advised. Nerissa nodded in agreement. Resuming where he left off before being interrupted, he said, “If he gave you a birthday present, he must know who you are.”
“He told me he passed by a perfumery in Niamh and happened to recognize the scent. I don’t think the gift was related to my birthday at all.”
Birthday present or not, the fact that he stopped and bought it for you is significant on its own, Raysel thought, but he didn’t say it out loud. Rian had given girls flowers before, but he had never bought any of them a gift. That he had bought perfume for Nerissa, even if it was a spontaneous decision—perhaps especially if it was a spontaneous decision—spoke volumes about his feelings for her.
For Raysel
, it was an oddly bittersweet realization. Despite the fact that it was a part of his duty, he had felt guilty for not being able to tell Rian that Caeneus was actually the girl he had danced with at the masquerade. Now, since Rian had discovered the truth on his own, there was no need for Raysel to hide his knowledge of it any longer. But at the same time, he felt oddly envious of his friend. Rian was free to act on his feelings for Nerissa—if he wanted to. Even though Raysel knew from the start that relationships between the Royal Family and their personal guardians were forbidden, never before had having Thorn at his side felt so much like having a thorn in his side. There was no way he would ever give voice to those thoughts, however.
Nerissa eyed him curiously, and he realized he must have been preoccupied with his thoughts for too long. Raysel quickly formulated a response to her earlier comment. “Sorry, I was wondering when and how Rian figured everything out. Did he tell you?”
Nerissa explained how Rian had slowly pieced the clues together and that he had also figured out Raysel was in on the secret the whole time.
“I admit, this news comes as somewhat of a relief. Rian is reliable, and it will make things easier on both of us to have an additional ally,” Raysel said. They rounded the street corner, and the inn they were staying at finally came into view.
“He still doesn’t know who I am,” Nerissa said, and the pensive look from earlier returned to her face. “But I wonder how long it will be before he figures that out too?”
Just then, a child carrying a basket of freshly cut roses approached them. “Would either of you gentlemen like to buy a flower for your ladies?” the boy asked in a clearly rehearsed tone of voice. “Only two gold per stem.”
Raysel opened his mouth to decline, but Nerissa’s hand was in her pocket.
“I’ll take one,” she said, pressing a five gold coin into the boy’s palm.
He handed her a rose and began to count out her change, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand. “There’s no need for that. Tell your parents the extra is meant to be a reward for your hard work,” she said.
The boy’s eyes grew twice their size, and his mouth fell open. “Thank you!” he said, practically shouting with excitement.
“I think you made his day,” Raysel said, grinning as the boy scurried away.
Nerissa twirled the white rose, admiring the blossom for a moment before burying her nose in it. “My mother said generosity rewards the giver as much as it does the receiver. Three gold is a small sum, but it’s a huge amount to a child.” She paused to inhale the aroma again. “Besides, I have a soft spot for white roses. How could I resist?”
A bittersweet feeling crept back into Raysel’s chest as he opened the door leading to the lobby of the inn. It was both his duty and his honor to protect Nerissa, and she had made it abundantly clear from the start that she did not want others to make sacrifices for her sake. She deserved a partner who would make her happy, and having a loved one die protecting her would definitely not make her happy. As long as he was willing to lay down his life for her safety—and he would always be willing to do so, no matter what she said—he would never be able to be that person for her. As her personal guardian, he was never meant to be that person for her. He grasped Thorn’s hilt, and the weight that had invaded his chest began to lighten. No matter what the nature of their relationship was, he would always be the sword by her side.
Chapter 8
Unexpected Connections
Nerissa
Raysel stepped across the threshold into the inn’s lobby and immediately stopped short. Nerissa, following one step behind him, quickly hopped to one side to avoid colliding with his back. Before she could ask what was going on, the answer to her question became clear. There, standing in front of the inn’s ornate fireplace mantle, was Alden.
“Here are two of the people I’ve been waiting for!” he exclaimed, reaching out to shake hands in greeting. Nerissa was not at all surprised to see Kuma’s head sticking out of the satchel slung across his chest. At this point, she would have been shocked to see Alden without Kuma nearby.
“You’ve been waiting for us?” Raysel asked skeptically, finally stepping out of the doorway to take Alden’s hand.
“Well, not the two of you specifically. It seems that your patrons, Jarold and Leal, have gone out for lunch.”
Seeing Raysel’s furrowed brow, Alden cast a pointed look in the direction of the desk clerk and then shot her a disarming smile when their eyes met. The woman fluttered her eyelashes and responded with a radiant smile of her own. “I came to inquire about the antiques we discussed the other day. Although I have been enjoying the welcome provided to me by the inn’s attentive staff, I don’t have much more time to wait for your patrons to return. I realize the two of you are employed as merchants’ guards, not assistants, but could you show me the items in their stead?”
Nerissa knew that Alden didn’t really have any business with Jarold and Leal, so the elaborate cover story must be for the benefit of those around them. The woman at the desk wasn’t even attempting to hide the fact that she was listening in on their conversation.
“I am sure they would want us to accommodate you. Why don’t you come to our room where we can conduct our business in private,” Nerissa suggested.
“I’ll have room service bring up a complimentary tea tray and some snacks in a few minutes,” the desk clerk chimed in.
“That would be delightful,” Alden replied smoothly. If the woman’s overt eavesdropping bothered him, he didn’t let it show.
The clerk bowed her head politely and said, “It is a pleasure to share our inn’s hospitality with you, Governor Alden.”
“Would you also be kind enough to return this to the kitchen and send up a vase with the tea tray?” Nerissa asked, sliding the bag containing the empty cobbler crock across the counter and holding up the rose so the woman could see it.
“I will see to it personally,” the clerk said absently, her eyes still glued to Alden.
The staircase leading to the third floor was every bit as opulent as the rest of the inn. With its carved mahogany handrails and marble-topped steps, it would easily have rivaled the grand staircase in the Manor—if the Manor were still standing. Nerissa trailed absent-mindedly behind Raysel and Alden as they climbed to the third floor, her thoughts consumed by the earlier conversation with Rian. She was so preoccupied that she almost didn’t notice the clatter that arose from within their room the moment Raysel pushed the door open.
“Caeneus, Raysel! I think I’ve found a connection between the books!” Desta proclaimed, bounding toward them from across the room. Her expression rapidly transformed from elation to chagrin as the door swung open to reveal Alden’s presence as well. “I-I-I didn’t know someone else was with you,” she stammered.
Nerissa sighed and gave her a withering look. They were going to have a talk about behaving rashly later, but it couldn’t be helped now. After all, spilled milk could not be returned to its glass. If they put off discussing Desta’s findings, they would offend Alden, and the last thing they needed to do was alienate one of their few allies.
It seemed Raysel came to the same conclusion. He checked to be sure the hall was empty and then closed the door. “Desta, I don’t believe that you’ve met Governor Alden before.”
Desta stared down at her feet regretfully. She glanced up only long enough to greet Alden before casting them downward again. Kuma emitted a soft “arf,” and Nerissa saw that the dog had gone rigid, seemingly mesmerized by Desta.
“Alden already knows about our search for the books,” Raysel explained. “So you may as well tell us what kind of connection you think you’ve found.”
Desta touched her index fingers together in a nervous gesture and pursed her lips. “When my mother and I snuck into the University Library, we weren’t able to find any other books with crystals in their spines. Since looking for the crystals seemed to be a dead end, I thought the cover designs might share a common link. Then we me
t Caeneus, and I completely forgot about the idea until this afternoon. There was something about the pattern on the front of the newest book that seemed familiar, so I decided to take another look at it while the twins were on duty guarding the wagon. I’ve figured out what caught my eye. There is an element of the design that all three books have in common.”
“What element is that?” Nerissa asked.
Desta scurried to the table to retrieve the book. She pointed to the diamond and triangle on the front. “All of them have triangles on their covers.”
“Triangles? Desta, that’s a really common shape,” Raysel said. “I doubt it’s significant that there is one on all three covers.”
Though Nerissa shared Raysel’s skepticism, she saw the gleam of recognition in Alden’s eyes as he looked at the design. The book had been inside the cave all of Alden’s life, so this must be his first time seeing it. Yet something about its appearance was plainly familiar to him.
“I know triangles are common shapes,” Desta said, flipping her hair over one shoulder peevishly. “That’s not all there is to it. This book has four triangles on the cover, and it contains the fourth section of the prophecy. The one we got from Charis has three triangles on the cover, and it contains the third section of the prophecy.”
“And your mother’s?” Nerissa prompted. She couldn’t remember what the cover of Shae’s book looked like, but she knew Desta would.
Desta smiled gratefully. “I can’t show it to you since we don’t have it with us, but I would never forget what it looks like. My mother’s family seal was stamped into the leather. The design is a collage of many symbols that represent her family arranged into the overall shape of a triangle.”
“Even though triangles may be a common element in designs, the correlation between the number of them on the cover and the section of the prophecy the book contains has to be intentional,” Nerissa said.
Alden stepped forward and thrust his right hand in front of them. He wiggled his ring finger, calling attention to the large gold band he wore. “I think there’s another, less obvious connection too. That isn’t just a random grouping of four triangles. It’s my family’s crest.”
Reflection- Thorn of the White Rose Page 7