by N M Zoltack
The sound of crying shocked Olympia. She rushed toward the beach and was even more surprised to see that Narses Kader was the one wailing. The child who only ever laughed was bawling.
That sight alone immediately moved Olympia to stay. Soon, though, she had a feeling that her greatest ally would be the moon and the cover of darkness rather than the sun and her brightness.
17
Princess Vivian Rivera
How many days ago had Vivian deserted Ulric? She had lost count. All that kept her going was the need to find the short mountains. Once past them, she would find a way to stay with Olac until it proved safe for her to return to Atlan.
First, though, she needed to think up a new name that she could go by to conceal her identity. Variania? No. She did not think that using a name that started with V would be the wisest. Perhaps Cateline would suffice. As for a surname… Kingsley? Again, far too close. Locke. Yes, Cateline Locke. Now, if only she could remember it enough to not hesitate when one asked her name. More importantly, for her to remember to answer to it.
Nerves were building. Vivian almost wished she had not abandoned Ulric, but she had no choice. Rosalynne must feel so terribly alone, and sending Ulric away was the only means for her to ensure her sister learned that she lived. Vivian did not dare risk sending a falcon with a message. Anyone could shoot down the flacon for the missive and learn that she had survived after all.
She reached for the water pouch at her waist and lifted it to her lips. Empty. All three of them were. Fates alive, that was not good.
Once night had fallen a few short hours after she had fled Ulric, Vivian had circled back to the town. She hadn’t wanted to, but she had no choice. She stole some clothes and water pouches, although she didn’t like to think of it as stealing. She had every intention of returning them, and besides, once she returned home, she could repay the people as well.
Already, her mouth felt a little drink, but most likely that was only because she now knew that she was out of water. She would be fine. Beside Olac was a river. She could refill there, and at least she had plenty of berries.
Speaking of berries, she grabbed a few from one of the saddlebags. It had surprised her how quickly she had adjusted to riding like a man. Because of Ulric’s remarks, she had swiped some pants to wear beneath either of the simple peasant dresses she wore. She had tucked beneath her legs her gown. She would try to sell it if she could do so without the buyer realizing who the gown belonged to.
First, though, she had to reach Olac.
The next day, the mountains rose before her. Those were the short mountains? Some claimed them to be tall hills?
“They should be hanged for spreading untruths,” she grumbled. “They aren’t that short after all!”
Within two days, three at the most, she would reach the city. Hoping beyond hoped, she wished to learn good news in Olac. Perhaps she would be able to stay only one night there before she could start the long venture home.
18
Sir Edmund Hill
“I cannot tell you how much this means to me that you would take the time to do this with me,” Tatum said the moment Edmund stirred from slumber.
He had offered to keep watch all throughout the night, but Tatum had not thought it necessary since they remained relatively close to Atlan proper yet. When he had insisted, Tatum had then asserted that she would likewise keep watch. Edmund had no intention of waking her, but she had woken herself when the moon was high above them, shining down on them with her silvery beams.
At first, he hadn’t thought he would be able to sleep, knowing that Tatum was alone keeping watch. That he lifted his head to see that the sun had dawned at least an hour earlier, he gaped at her in surprise.
“How long did I sleep?” he asked, jumping to his feet.
“You looked so peaceful,” she said.
Edmund scowled. “We left later than I wanted to,” he reminded her. “We need to get going so we can hurry back. You said this herb is rare. We might not locate it for some time in the swamps.”
Tatum hung her head. “I am sorry,” she said demurely, peeking up at him through lowered lashes. “I had no idea that you would be able to secure leave time so quickly, and I couldn’t afford to leave my regular customers without their potions supplied for a fortnight.”
He grunted. “Yes, I know,” he grumbled begrudgingly.
“I made some food to break our fast,” she said.
“We can eat as we march,” he said.
“A monster of a slave driver,” she teased.
She crossed over and stamped out the small fire he hadn’t even realized was burning. His nose was rather stuffy. He wasn’t getting sick, was he? Edmund eyed the large bags she had brought along with her. The knight could only supposed that she had brought along some potions or perhaps merely ingredients for elixirs. If he truly was falling ill, perhaps she could aid him as well as any physician.
Edmund had not brought along anything that needed to be packed up, so he seized the pot of oats and berries she had heated for them as well as his already secured bag. Once she had destroyed the firepit and gathered her belongings, they trudged through the rest of the way out of Atlan. This area was heavily guarded as raiders and ruffians tended to prowl the forests, trying to find unsuspecting Atlans whom they could steal from. If caught in the act of stealing, a guard was within his right to chop off the offender’s wrist. Edmund hoped he would not have to enforce such a punishment. Yes, criminals should be punished, but if perhaps the thieves could be forced to do acts of goodness, they might turn into better citizens.
Or else they might start to resent what is good and just and right and turn more toward heinous acts, even more brazen, hideous ones.
He shook his head, grateful that he was not a member of the royal family and would never have to be the one to make such decisions. None could be carried out lightly. Edmund had witnessed the then-princess Rosalynne carry out an execution in her father’s name. The offender, Dicun Lewis, had not been apologetic for his crime at all.
Now, Lewis’s crime was one that Edmund could understand why it called for death. To speak out against the royal family was treason. To say that the previous ruling family had been better rulers was essentially calling others to agree with him. If enough assented with the claim, they might seek to do as the Riveras had and try to seize the crown for themselves.
Tatum moved from being slightly behind him to right alongside the guard. “You’re thinking so deeply,” she said.
“About nothing important.”
“You haven’t had a bite.”
He glanced down at the pot he was carrying. Only by holding it close to his nose could he smell it.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, sounding worried.
“I am,” he assured her, “but oats isn’t exactly a meal to eat while walking.”
“If one could call this pace walking,” Tatum murmured.
“Am I going too fast for you?”
“Of course not,” she said indignantly. “You do not have to worry about me, but if you are not going to eat…”
Wordlessly, he handed the pot to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she ate spoonful after spoonful without spilling a drop, making a mess, or slurping.
Once she did not move to eat more, he accepted the pot back, attempted to eat, and promptly spilled some onto his chin.
Tatum appeared not to notice, watching the sky instead.
Edmund awkwardly wiped his chin clean with the spoon while still walking to cover his embarrassment. Finally, he shoveled some into his mouth.
At least he could taste. This wasn’t the first time he had heated oats and berries, but he had never had cinnamon mixed in before. The berries added a hint of juiciness to the concoction that he loved immediately.
“Do you approve?” Tatum asked, halting and turning to look back at him.
Edmund hadn’t even realized he had stopped moving, just standing there and eating.
When he realized he was scraping the last bits, he flushed and cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
“It is the least I can do.”
They continued on until it was nearing dinnertime. Tatum bid him to continue on, and he complied, trying not to wonder where she had sneaked off to. Eventually, as the minutes turned into nearly half past an hour, he retraced his steps to follow her trail, which was not an easy feat. She appeared to be part-dryad, not that any dryads still walked the lands. Some claimed they never had, but Edmund believed they had when the dragons three had flown in the skies.
Eventually, he heard the sound of a cork releasing a vial. He peered around a tree to observe Tatum bending down. A small white hart was chewing grass nearby, ignoring her, but the moment the liquid from the vial touched the grass, the hart approached and ate right in front of Tatum. Swiftly, Tatum stabbed the deer in the eye.
Smart woman. Skilled hunters knew that if animals were punctured in their muscles, the meat would tighten up. Most archers especially sought to slay their prey through their eyes to prevent just that.
With a grunt, Tatum reached for the hart.
“Allow me,” Edmund said, coming forward.
She blinked at him, and he was surprised she hadn’t noticed his approach even though he had done his best to be quiet.
“I had planned on catching up to you,” she said.
“With that heavy…” He trailed off at her displeased expression.
“I could have used one of my potions,” she said stubbornly.
For whatever reason, her change in demeanor annoyed him. “If that is the case, why did you need me to come along? You could have used endurance and strength and found the herb yourself.”
“I could have,” she said, her edge as sharp as the knife she bent down to wipe clean from blood on the grass. “But I’ve heard too many tales about the swamps. Forgive me if I thought my future brother might wish to help keep me safe.”
Immediately, Edmund felt ashamed for several reasons. First, he should have offered to carry her bags. Second, he never should have snapped at her. Third, his suggestion she go alone had been vicious and cruel. Only the bravest of the brave ventured into the swamp and never alone.
“I did not mean—” he started.
She cut him off. “We can eat here and then continue on. We have to make up time, don’t we now? So you can return. I do not wish for you to be missed.”
“Tatum…”
But she was already gathering kindling for a fire, and he did the same. They ate in silence, and Edmund kept glancing at her. Tatum pointedly ignored him, but even her sharp motions contained a grace that suggested one of noble blood.
Just who was Tatum Whittemore? As good and kind as she was to her customers and as much as she appeared to genuinely love Dudley, Edmund could not help but wonder. She had lured that hart to its death and killed it with such ease that he knew she had much practice with that blade. He knew all too well the art of using weapons to be able to recognize when one was proficient, and she was.
Perhaps she truly did not need him to accompany her. Tatum might be that powerful, and if so, perhaps the dragons three would have seen her as a threat after all.
19
Queen Rosalynne Rivera
Rosalynne refused to allow Sabine’s quest for power to deter her. She knew that the queen was also meeting with Aldus Perez, and she knew that the man could not fully be trusted. Thus far, he seemed to be on her side, but clearly, he seemed to be doing the same with Sabine.
Playing us both but to what end? Did Aldus have his eye on the throne? Did he only want power? Currently, both queens were giving him power, if that was his goal.
As of yet, Rosalynne had still not allowed peasants back into the castle to see her for aid and assistance, not since before Noll’s murder. It was far past time for her to resume her duties, especially while the people seemed opened to her once again. When she first became queen, they had accepted her. Then, they slowly shifted away more and more until some had called for her to be killed. Rosalynne still did not understand how that had happened.
Perhaps someone is spreading lies about me.
She could think of one person or rather two persons who would do such a thing—Sabine and her mother Greta. Not that Rosalynne had any proof or was even certain this was the case. Still, she would continue to be wary of those two. Perhaps she should speak with them once more. If she could understand them better, she might be able to learn just how they were plotting against her.
Paranoia? Certainly not. For now, Sabine was the ruling queen, and Rosalynne had a feeling the queen who was only slightly older than her would do anything and everything in her power to maintain that control.
It shocked and surprised Rosalynne that the people had been so accepting of Sabine considering that she had not been married to the king for long before he had died. The woman had been born a peasant and then her mother had remarried again to a lesser noble, if Rosalynne remembered correctly. Perhaps a baron.
Then again, Sabine had continued to leave the castle and meet the peasants face-to-face. She was not in mourning as Rosalynne was over Noll’s death.
All the more reason for me to resume helping the peasants and nobles as best as I can.
Aldus Perez would most likely be in either the library or the council room. The library was far closer to her present location, so she checked in there first.
The advisor was not there, but Vicar Albert Leeson was. The old man lifted his gaze. The lines on his face seemed to have deepened as of late, but perhaps this was merely her imagination. She feared that she had wrinkles herself despite her youthfulness.
“Ah, Queen Rosalynne,” the old man said. “I wished to seek you out.”
“Is that so?” She did her best to smile at him. Whenever she saw the vicar’s face, she would flash back to when her brother had laid on his altar. In truth, she had been avoiding the man as much as possible, which was a shame. She enjoyed his council tremendously and had no reason to fear that he might be siding against her with another queen.
Yet, his presence always threatened to cause the grief and sorrow and depression she had buried to burst through past her defenses. Already, she could feel the faint sting of tears prickle her eyes. She would not cry, though. She must remain strong at all costs.
“You and Bjorn have taken to each other,” the vicar said.
The young queen blinked in surprise. “I would not quite say that, no,” she said, shaking her head.
“No?” the vicar repeated. “I thought you were the one who had sent him out to see the people in your name.”
Rosalynne was stunned, shocked to realize that Bjorn had taken this duty upon himself. It was rather touching to finally have someone on her side. Perhaps she should give him more of a chance.
Or perhaps he merely wished to get close to her so that he could become her king.
That thought caused the faint smile growing on her lips to die. Without her family, she was finding it nearly impossible to trust anyone save for the vicar, the one man who brought her the most pain.
“Thank you for alerting me to this,” Rosalynne said softly.
“If I had realized you did not know, I would have told you sooner.”
She held up a hand. “You are fine,” she said firmly. “Is there anything else I should know?”
The vicar shook his head. “Rosalynne, about what you learned…”
About her father killing an expectant woman.
She closed that still-raised hand into a fist. “We will never speak of that again,” she said coldly. “And you will inform no one else of that matter. I take it only few people know of that fact?”
“Indeed. The public at large did not know the queen was with child. Any guards who served the Lis have long since gone into hiding.”
“And the Li advisor?”
“Dead,” Albert Leeson said shortly.
“And their vicar?” she asked softly.
The man hung his head. “That was me, My Queen.”
“I thought as much.” She reached over and clasped the sides of his shoulders. “Do not fret. You have served the Riveras well ever since we have taken the throne. I know that your sole duty is to the throne of Tenoch Proper and nothing else.”
“You belong on that throne and no one else.”
Rosalynne smiled. She was clinging to the crown because that as all she had left of her family and their legacy. Vivian had been the one out of the two of them who had longed to rule. Rosalynne never had wanted this. In truth, she still did not. Still, she would do as she had always done—she would do what she must.
“If you will excuse me, good Vicar, I have others I must speak to,” she murmured.
“Of course. Take care, My Queen. Trust no one save yourself, and all will be well.”
Rosalynne hurried away. How could she trust herself when she felt as if she were barely capable of breathing?
Minutes later, Rosalynne entered the main council room. Sure enough, Aldus Perez sat at the large round table, going over scrolls. When he noticed her, he moved to stand.
“Sit,” she dictated. “Arrange for the peasants to be welcomed into the throne room to address me starting tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” the advisor asked.
“Do not question me,” she said firmly.
“As you wish, so it shall be.” Aldus dipped his head.
She leaned over the table, her hands gripping the rounded edges. “What all does Sabine have planned?”
“My Queen?”