by H. L. Burke
She raised her hand to stroke his cheek but paused. Her skin was transparent. Her lower lip shook. “I’m getting pulled away.”
“I know.” He ran his fingers into her hair and leaned towards her mouth only to stop part way. No, he couldn’t do that. Not when she was fated for his brother. This stolen moment had meant everything, but he’d taken it as far as he should. Instead he kissed her forehead again, sweet but not as satisfying as he’d hoped. Her eyes squeezed shut and pain seeped through the heartbond. “I love you, Arynne. Tell Olyn I miss him as well, and that I’m safe.”
“I will.” Her voice cracked.
With a sad smile, he focused on her eyes until they faded away and he held only mist and light in his arms. Grief and loneliness overwhelmed him and crashed willingly into oblivion.
Chapter Five
Arynne sat up in bed with a gasp. Her gaze darted about the room. She was alone, only the heavy curtains around her bed, parted just enough to let in a sliver of light from the window ... still the pale, weak light of the dimming period. She reached under her pillow and found the tiny piece of starshard that Kay had given her as a gift back in her homeland of Solea. She’d kept it with her throughout their difficult journey and now often slipped her hand around it as she slept. The energy from it tingled through her skin, calming her.
Placing the starshard back in its hiding place, she slid out of bed. She shivered.
How had that happened? It was far too real to be a dream. She could still feel the warmth of Kay’s arms about her, fighting the chill that now overtook her body.
Closing her eyes, she focused on the heartbond. It still pulsed at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t feel emotion through it, only a vague sense of Kay, a lightness wrapped around simmering agony. Perhaps he was asleep. For a moment she considered trying to go back to bed herself, maybe finding him again somewhere in her dreams, but she shook it off and slipped on her dressing robe.
Rubbing her arms to try and ease away the goose bumps, she left the bedroom and entered the sitting room. Sol slept in his perch beside the window, twitching ever so slightly in his dreams. She sighed and ran her fingers across his silky wings.
You have to do it. You have to kill Evyd. It’s the only way to save Kay.
The hopelessness she’d felt rising from him still haunted her even as his love for her tempted her. If only he’d kissed her. She could’ve used that memory to strengthen her resolve.
She needed to discover a way to get access to Evyd’s meals without being caught. Yes, it was murder, but to save Kay, that seemed a small price to pay. Now, while the palace was sleeping, might be a good time to do some investigating.
After donning a plain white dress with a violet over-apron and a fur-lined cloak in hopes of both warming herself and having the option to conceal her face, she slipped from her bedroom and down the hall. The pouch hanging from her sash bounced up and down against her hip, making her very aware of the tiny vial of poison hidden within.
Her footsteps echoed eerily through the silent palace, and she took to shuffling her feet to avoid the sharp tapping of her leather soles. Starshard lanterns placed every few yards lit the windowless inner halls. Arynne’s shadow stretched out before her. Every so often she stopped to listen but heard nothing.
Still, her shoulders hunched towards her ears as she cringed at every corner she turned, wondering if she’d run into a guard or a servant going about some late duties. Of course, other than a vague sense of having slept for most of the dimming, she had no idea what time it actually was. Adjusting from life in Solea run by carefully synchronized sandclocks to Frorheim where other than the dimming and the brightening, schedules were loosely kept if kept at all had been an adjustment. At least in the dimming period, people were generally at rest. The guards, already lax knowing that their king could blast people with a bolt of light at will, kept to slow rounds through the halls, easily avoided.
Once she exited the narrow stair dividing the royal wing from the more public areas, she walked a little faster. Even if she were caught poking about here, it wouldn’t matter. Hopefully the kitchen was unlocked. If she could figure out which food would be fed to Evyd, and only Evyd, it would at least be a start. Even if she couldn’t, knowledge of the inner workings of the kitchen would be very useful for a poisoner.
With a vague idea that for the food to arrive hot, the kitchen entrance had to be near the main dining room, she navigated in that general direction. Finally she pushed through a double door and into a long room filled with tables, racks of pots and pans, hive-like earthen ovens, and a humongous fireplace, now with only coals glowing within. The room had a faint but delicious odor of a hundred different meals mixed together: roasted meat, baking bread, caramelized onions, and many, many spices.
The ghosts of dinners past. A smile crossed Arynne’s face.
A creaking of wooden boards caused her to jump. She spun to stare into the far corner of the room. There, at a table in the light of a single candle, sat a man.
“Who’s there?” He stood, lifting the candle along with him. Arynne’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she considered running. How could she explain herself here? A princess in a kitchen? It was unheard of!
A few more steps and the light revealed Clindt’s wide-eyed face. Arynne blinked. The nephew of a king in a kitchen was only slightly less heard of than a princess.
“Clindt, what are you doing here?” she stammered.
“I could ask the same of you.” He held up his other hand, revealing a half eaten pastry dripping with red jam. “Late snack.”
“The same.” If pilfering food directly from the kitchens, rather than sending a servant to do so on your behalf, was acceptable behavior for Frorheim nobility, then he wouldn’t question her. The tight muscles between her shoulder blades eased. A thought struck her. “But you don’t even live in the palace.”
“True.” He turned back towards his table, motioning for her to follow. When she reached his side, she saw a platter with not just pastries but slices of cheese and a few pieces of fruit as well. He set his candle beside a tankard of frothy ale. “Would you like something?”
Not really hungry, she accepted a rose-cheeked apple to keep up the charade. She settled across from him.
He sat with one ankle resting on the other knee. “One of the wardens fell from a wall during a training exercise right before the dimming. I was called. Touch and go for a little while there, but I kept him with us, and I think with regular sessions to ease the hurts, he’ll be able to walk again. Still, by the time I finished with his care, I was exhausted and starving. The cook here knows me, and if she hears I’m dealing with a patient in the palace, she’ll leave something out for when I’m done. I prefer to eat before heading home so I don’t wake Letha and the girls—that’s my wife, Letha.”
“I assumed as much.” She chuckled and took a bite of apple. “But you’re the son of the king’s sister. It seems odd you’d be the one they’d call to see to a common soldier.”
“For one thing, it was Starwarden Jaxon’s son, which I’d say makes him slightly more than common. Boy’s a traveler by his mother’s side. A valuable fighter, likely to make the starwarden rank in a decade or so. Also, I value all life, regardless of birth or status. It’s sort of a requirement of the job.” His smile remained, but a hint of reproach crept into his tone, and she blushed.
“I meant no disrespect. We had healers in Solea, we called them curers, but they weren’t usually members of the royal family,” she explained. “Magic users in general aren’t royalty in my homeland as the priests are the only ones who can train the ability and they will only train people willing to join their orders. It’s strange to me how your magic users are all tied to royal houses.”
“It’s a small community. We don’t really have ‘royal houses.’ If noble families were only able to marry within other noble families in a kingdom this size, there would be limited options, and I, for one, would rather keep breeding out
of the family, so to speak.” He snorted.
Arynne winced. “I can see how that would be inadvisable. Still, you’re the only mender the royal family seems to use. You must be overworked.”
“It’s mainly because I’m the only trained mender in the family, and uncle and mother are too paranoid to use someone they aren’t related to. All my sisters are dual magic wielders, like myself, mender and seer, but they all chose to study seeing rather than mending.” He took a draft of his ale then wiped the foam from his moustache. “Mending isn’t the most common ability. Most families find seers and travelers more useful, and since those abilities can only be passed on through daughters, there’s often some reproductive meddling going on—magical mostly—to ensure more daughters are born than sons.”
Arynne tilted her head to one side. “In most cultures sons are usually considered to be the prize.”
“Well, in the case of the royal line, a single son is very prized, just for the starcasting, and among the travelers, ironically, they still want sons, even if they can’t pass on the magic. Menders are the least in demand. Perhaps because it takes a certain personality type to accept mending as a calling, but it suits me. I like to save people, or at the very least ease their pain. Life is precious.”
“It does suit you.” Conscience burning, Arynne sneaked her hand under the table and touched the pouch with the vial. Taking Evyd’s life will save Kay. Is Evyd’s life more precious than Kay’s? “Your father was a mender as well then?”
“Yes, and a starwarden. He was away a lot, on missions that would require a healer.” Clindt cleared his throat. “He died when I was nine starcycles. I actually joined the wardens for a time, thinking it’d uphold his legacy, but a starcycle into training I met Letha and I realized it wasn’t what I wanted, to be a mostly absent father constantly at risk of leaving my wife a widow and my kids orphans. Don’t get me wrong, the wardens provide an essential service, one the kingdom would be at a loss without.” His speech quickened, as if in a hurry to undo any offense he might have caused. “It’s an honorable, sacrificial calling, and I am grateful to those who can do it but ...” He shrugged.
“It wasn’t you.” Arynne nodded.
“Exactly.” He let out a relieved breath. “It disappointed my mother, though, that I’d give up a promising career and a guaranteed position on my uncle’s council—which I did eventually get, but I’ve been told again and again that I didn’t really earn it, that it’s based on blood, not merit—to be a ‘mundane nurse and bonesetter’ as she put it.”
Arynne arched her eyebrows. “If you don’t mind me saying so, Clindt, your family has a ridiculous issue with a lack of appreciation for perfectly capable and deserving sons.”
He laughed, a good, hearty laugh that lightened the heaviness in her chest.
Her hand brushed against the pouch, and she remembered the reason she was there. Pretending to focus on her apple, she scanned the kitchen. Food was everywhere, but there was no way to tell what would be served to the king. In order to get it in his food specifically, she’d have to be here while it was being prepared. Maybe she could disguise herself as a maid—no, with her skin she would stand out too much. She’d need an excuse to be here as herself. Her jaws clenched and unclenched.
“You look worried,” Clindt said, bringing her to the present again. “Is it the heartbond?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She closed her eyes and toyed with the connection to Kay. It quivered like the leaves of a plant reaching for the sun, still placid and quiet.
“Can you sense him now?” Clindt leaned across the table, gaze intent on her.
“Yes, it’s hard to explain, but I always can, even when I’m not thinking about it.” She bit her bottom lip. “I think he’s sleeping right now. It’s calm, not much more than a vague sense of him.”
“I understand completely.” He tapped his forehead. “It’s the same with me and Letha.”
“Of course.” She’d forgotten that Clindt also had a heartbond. After a heartbeat of hesitation, she continued. “He’s resting now, but earlier ... he was frightened, terrified even. That’s what woke me up.”
“Interesting.” Clindt rubbed his sparse beard with the back of his hand. “Well, he’s a starwarden. They do deal with a certain amount of danger, especially when hunting grims.”
“I hope he’s all right.” Tears threatened to well from her eyes, so she angled away from Clindt.
“I’m sure he is. It doesn’t get said enough around here, but for all his flaws, Kajik is a capable starwarden, and with the abilities to travel and starcast, he can handle situations that would be deadly to the average man.” He reached over and clasped her hand. “He’ll be fine, Arynne.” He grimaced. “I’ll admit that even I have been hard on him in the past. We were never close, partially due to the age difference, but more because my mother had convinced all of us that Kajik was a bit of a waste ... but you’re right about our family. We tend to blow faults out of proportion and act as if anything less than perfection ruins the man. Seeing how Kajik has handled what happened between you and him, it makes me think that when I do see him again, I owe him an apology.”
“I just wish more people saw his value.” She choked back a sob. “Sometimes it seems only myself and Olyn care whether he lives or dies.”
“Well, there’s one other.” Clindt stood and offered her his hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
He led her out of the kitchen down a broad hall she had only briefly explored. They passed the doorway to the palace library, one to a ballroom of sorts where she was told musicians often played—though she had yet to see such a performance—and two ritual rooms, including the one where the heartbond ceremony that had tied her to Kay had occurred. At the end of this hall was a spiral staircase, descending into darkness.
Clindt paused and looked about. “Moss-elk droppings! I forgot. I don’t have a starshard lantern.”
Arynne smirked. “That’s a shame. Too bad you don’t have someone who can literally summon fire at will.” She snapped her fingers, and a flickering flame rose from her palm. It cast a warm, golden circle into the darkness before them.
“Show off.” Clindt snorted, but his face remained pleasant. They descended the stairs and emerged into a long hall lined with pillars and statues, mostly of men, but a few women. At the end of this was a great platform or altar beneath a single starshard, suspended from the ceiling like a star in the sky.
The statues’ eyes seemed to follow Arynne as she traversed the room. Their lifeless eyes were cold and stern, disapproving of this foreign princess who had dared to profane their hallowed halls. She shivered, and her fire almost went out. She channeled just enough magic into it to keep it alight.
“Here.” Clindt stopped about two thirds of the way down the hall, at the second to last statue. Beyond that the spaces between the pillars stood empty, waiting to be filled.
Arynne gazed up on this sculpture. It was smaller than the others by nearly half, even with Clindt in height. The subject was a woman of no more than thirty with a serene face and hair done up in elaborate braids.
“Who is she?” Arynne whispered, though she had her suspicions.
“Queen Brenna.” Clindt dropped to one knee and passed his hand over his forehead. Sensing this was some ritual to honor the dead, Arynne did the same.
“Kay’s mother ...” She sighed. “She was beautiful. In the story Olyn told me, it sounded as if she very much loved Kay.”
“She did.” Clindt stood again. “She knew somehow, even though she was a traveler, not a seer, that Frorheim would need both her sons. I was only a boy myself when she passed, but I remember her pleading for her child’s life when Evyd thought Kajik’s birth as a male was a harbringer of doom and that we should allow him to end the baby’s life to prevent a greater evil.”
Arynne shuddered. It was hard to imagine a greater evil than the cold blooded killing of an infant. “If only she could see him, to know how h
ard he’s trying.”
“Maybe she can.” Clindt gripped her shoulder. “What do Soleans believe happens to our souls after death?”
Arynne hesitated. She’d never paid much attention to such things, seeing spiritual matters as having little impact on her life and choices. Still, she knew the basics. “We believe that those loyal to the Sun God are brought into his presence to live in eternal light and warmth ... though considering I moved to a land that the Sun God cannot reach, I am hardly a loyal follower. I told Kajik I would be willing to serve the same god as his people since I would be required to lead them.”
“Well, in this our legends are not unsimilar. We also believe the soul continues on after life and that those that ask for the mercy of the Ever are sheltered by him and brought to a place of joy and healing called the Field of Stars.” He sighed, his shoulders slumped. “I know in my heart that Queen Brenna was such a soul.”
“But the dead can’t reach us.”
“Not exactly, but in our beliefs, the boundaries between the three realms—the mortal realm, the Lingering Dark which is a place of terror and destruction, and the Field of Stars—are more permeable than solid. That is how the foul spirits can escape from the Lingering Dark to create grims, but also how the star spirits exist among us to power the starshards and bring us life.”
“And can humans pass through? Even after death?” She swallowed.
“It’s rare, but it has happened a few times, according to our legend. The important thing is that the two spiritual realms—both the dark and the light—can observe what happens here. They have knowledge of it, for good or ill.” His hand tightened on her arm. “Kajik is not unloved, Arynne. There is a soul watching him right now who loves him very much, a soul who risked her life so he could live to be the man he became—and I think that soul would be very glad that Kajik found someone like you.”