Forbidden Fruit

by Joelle Charbonneau

  Humility. Charity. Temperance. Patience. Endurance. Strength. Chastity.

  Justice was not among the virtues. Neither was honesty, as his father was quick to point out. Therefore the virtues were also important for those who were successful thieves. It was Deevana’s lack of humility that no doubt raised suspicions in Blackthorn Keep and set them on the road south. In just a handful of days he and his sister would stand inside the walls of the city that exemplified those virtues. And there, Graylem would learn whether he belonged.

  “What are these?” he asked. He pulled a pair of black trousers decorated with silver thread on the cuffs from his travel bag and looked for his sister. Despite being close enough to see the walls of Garden City, she had insisted they camp near a river so they could both bathe before they entered.

  He pulled out another pair of brown trousers, these edged with threads of gold, and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “Deevana, where are my clothes?”

  “Those are your clothes,” his sister called. The bushes nearest the river rustled, and Deevana stepped out wearing a dress he had certainly never seen before. “So,” his sister said as she smiled. “What do you think?”

  He scrambled to his feet, the trousers in his hand forgotten.

  The dress his sister was wearing looked richer by far than any he had seen Deevana wear before—richer than any girl in their village had ever hoped to own. It was a green color that matched the winter tree needles they had in abundance up north, cut with pale blue and edged with gold. The brush in Deevana’s hand was silver. Also something he had never before laid eyes upon. But she had clearly used it to brush her hair until it fell like a crimson waterfall around her shoulders.

  “Is that what you stole?” he asked. “Clothes? Brushes?” Was this for what they burned everything their mother had loved?

  “Lady Blackthorn looked terrible in this dress. She said so herself and insisted that it be carried away. I just waited until there was no one around to notice when I took it farther than she anticipated.”

  “And those?” He pointed down at the clothing in his pack. “Were they unflattering as well?”

  She lifted her chin, and her eyes flashed. “No one notices when a few trousers or a dress go missing. Not when they have so many. I wanted to leave you a gift that you could use on a special day so you would think of me.”

  “Because you were always planning on leaving Blackthorn.” It made sense. The dress. The bulky items that she must have already had packed in bags ready to take with her when she made her escape. “You planned on leaving me behind.”

  The realization didn’t surprise him. Neither did the hurt.

  Deevana walked toward him. Sunlight gleamed off her hair as she said, “We are not children anymore, Gray. You were making plans for the future, and I was as well. I knew you would disapprove of the methods I used to secure what I needed on my path, so I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to risk losing the love of the only family I had left.”

  “You didn’t want me to put a stop to whatever it is that you had planned.”

  She reached down and plucked her red cloak off her bags. Shrugging it over her shoulders to protect her from the chill, she admitted, “Perhaps that was part of it, too. But that’s behind us now because here we are ready to ride into Garden City together and see the Palace of Winds and everything we have ever been told about. Is it wrong that I want to do so in clothing that isn’t stained by dirt and sweat and the blood of the men you killed?”

  Guilt surfaced again, just as he knew his sister had intended. Straightening his shoulders, he asked, “What else did you take, Deevana?”

  “Things to sell,” she admitted. “Which I intend to do once I get to the city. Do not worry, Graylem. I am Father’s daughter. I avoided taking anything with the Blackthorn crest or markings that would show they are from a noble house in Orgo. No one will know they were not ours in the first place, especially not when I am dressed like this and you are dressed in those.” She nodded at the trousers in his hand.

  “Deevana . . .”

  “And,” Deevana added, “members of the guard will be far likelier to answer your questions and introduce you to their captain if you appear to be a noble of skill looking to serve your king instead of a peasant seeking out a place to sleep and three meals a day.”

  Graylem frowned and looked back down at the trousers in his hands. As much as it bothered him, there was nothing he could do about the items his sister had liberated now. That was in the past. And if he balked at Deevana’s ideas it would make the future far more problematic.

  Despite wanting to throttle her, he kept his voice calm and said, “I’ll wear these, but only if you promise that once we are inside Garden City you won’t cause trouble. I need you to promise that you won’t steal—not silver or clothing or anything—not even if you justify it by saying it will help me because it is better than what I have.” He looked into her eyes. “Do we have a deal, Deevana?”

  “I promise that I won’t steal, Graylem,” Deevana said solemnly. “And if it makes you feel any better, the shirts I took for you had holes in them. I mended them myself.”

  He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching. “Then maybe they have blood on them after all.”

  The brown trousers were the least decorative, so he chose those and went behind a bush to change so his sister couldn’t laugh at him as he fumbled with unfamiliar closures. He wasn’t sure why lords needed crisscrossing ties and then a flap with a buckle at the top and more ties at the bottom of his legs when just one simple tie to keep the britches from falling down would do.

  It took him a good quarter of an hour to properly get into them, and he made a vow not to drink much of anything until he was sure he could unfasten them with haste if need be. He then unfolded the light blue tunic and smiled at the uneven stitching on one of the cuffs before slipping it over his head. After checking the fastenings again to make sure his pants wouldn’t fall, he walked back to where his sister waited with her hands clasped in front of her and a gleam in her eye. Their bags were already stowed on their horses, the fire extinguished.

  He grabbed his cloak from the branch of a tree and shrugged it over his shoulders. “Are you ready to go?”

  The smile his sister gave him was wide and filled with delight. “I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life.”

  The sun shone brightly as they rode. The grasses got greener and the air warmer the farther south they went. Billowy white clouds dotted the brilliant blue sky. Then the clouds shifted and Graylem felt his breath catch as in the distance he saw what could only be the Palace of Winds. He knew the Palace was sitting atop a plateau, but from where they were it looked as if it were floating with the clouds. In the glare of the sun, he couldn’t see the orb, but he could make out eight windmills churning atop the battlements.

  They urged their horses to go faster as the Palace of Winds grew larger and higher and the walls around Garden City came into view, only slowing when they reached the main gates where carts and people went in and out. Graylem couldn’t help but stare. The walls surrounding the city were taller than Blackthorn Keep by double, perhaps triple the height and they were smooth as glass. His father said walls were made for thieves to climb, but these walls—only thieves with more recklessness than sense would consider scaling them with hope of success.

  He studied the guards standing at the gates in their mail shirts with cloaks of blue and yellow—their hands resting on the hilts of the broadswords hanging at their sides—as he rode beside his sister into the city that was home to Eden’s King and Queen.

  “We should first find a place to stay,” Graylem said, trying not to gawk at the sheer number of people roaming the wide street. It seemed to stretch from the gate straight ahead into the heart of the city, which was bustling with activity. “The merchant, Goodman Tyrelle, suggested the Red Stag. Perhaps we should stop and ask one of the guards for directions.”

  His sister shook her head. “Let’s wait u
ntil we get closer to the center of the city,” she said as she nudged her horse forward.

  Kids laughed and ran in and out of narrow streets. Other people shouted as they sold their wares. The smell of so many people mixed with baking bread and the soot of torches and fires was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t sure how far they rode into the city. It was impossible to gauge when all the buildings looked much the same.

  Eventually, Deevana pointed into the distance with delight at a large tree in the middle of an open square. A man in a yellow and blue cloak with the seal of the Seven Virtues stood with three other guardsmen near a low wall. The seal, Graylem realized, marked him as a member of the elite King’s Guard. Beyond the wall, closer to the tree, were a group of richly dressed women. One, standing a little bit apart, wore a snowy white cloak. Her head was bowed in contemplation or prayer.

  Excitement filled his sister’s face as she nudged her horse forward and yelled, “Follow me!”

  Before he could ask for an explanation, she turned her mount toward the buildings at the northern side of the square. She stopped in front of one with a symbol of an in-bloom rose often used to represent the virtue of Chastity and the District of Lussuria hanging on a plaque over the door.

  His sister slid off her mount and handed the reins to a young, brown-cloaked boy who stepped out from the stable beside the building. Before Graylem had a chance to dismount, she tossed her hair and in a firm, haughty voice said, “My brother and I are here to see Lord Nigel and Lady Ariella of Justice Hall.”

  “Lord Nigel and Lady Arielle aren’t here, m’lady,” the boy explained.

  “But they will be?” she pressed. When the boy just stood gaping at her, she asked, “This is the inn where they stay when they come to Garden City? Or do I need to tell Lord Nigel and Lady Ariella that they are not remembered by this establishment?”

  “Excuse me, my lady!” A man with a neatly trimmed dark beard and a frown for the boy appeared in the inn’s doorway. “My apologies for my son’s confusion. The lord and lady of Justice Hall do often stay here when they come to Garden City. But they are not in residence now.”

  Deevana’s eyes flashed as she walked toward her brother. “I know they told you they would be here by now, but I am sure there is a good reason for their delay. You will send a messenger after this man shows us to our rooms.” She turned toward the inn’s owner and lifted her chin. “If we have to wait for them to arrive, we might as well wait here.”

  “Yes, my lady,” the man said with a nod to his son. “It would be our honor to serve you, my lady. And we have two of our best rooms available.”

  Before Graylem could say anything, his sister winked and swept through the inn’s open door, leaving him with no choice but to follow.

  4

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Graylem hissed as his sister closed the door to her chamber. The room had windows that looked onto the tree she had admired—the Tree of Virtues, according to the innkeep—and boasted rich fabrics on the chairs and a bed overflowing with pillows and draped with silk. “You promised you wouldn’t do anything foolish while we were in Garden City.”

  “Actually, I promised I wouldn’t steal, and this isn’t foolish,” she insisted as she walked to the window. “We have a place to stable our horses where they will not be stolen, clean rooms to sleep in, and by telling him that we are familiar with Lord Nigel, I ensured the innkeeper will not charge us more than he charges them or ask for coin in advance, since that would be an insult to both us and our highborn friends.”

  “And when it is time to leave and we can’t pay his price?”

  “I told you, I have things to sell, which we will do as soon as we find a reputable merchant to haggle with, so stop worrying. While you were talking to the jewelry merchant, I learned a great deal from his daughter.”

  “Information about Lord Nigel and Lady Ariella?”

  “And places where I can sell a few items that remind me of sad times that I no longer wish to remember.” Deevana grabbed a bag from the foot of her canopied bed, opened it, and pulled a deep blue dress from its depths. “As long as you don’t give us away with your stricken looks . . .”

  A knock came at the door.

  “Enter!”

  Graylem stepped away from the door as it opened and a girl, perhaps twelve, with deep brown hair appeared.

  “My father thought you might like assistance, my lady.” The girl curtsied. “I often serve as Lady Ariella’s maid when she is here.”

  “If Ariella finds you acceptable, I am sure I will, too.” Deevana glanced at him. “I hope you can help me do something with my hair. Is there a popular style, one worn by Princess Carys perhaps, that would suit me?”

  “Princess Carys is not interested in hairstyles, my lady,” the girl said. “But the new seeress of Eden, Lady Imogen, has just become betrothed to Prince Micah, and she is known for her beauty and style.” The young maid took the dress Deevana was holding from her and hung it in the wardrobe.

  “The new seeress of Eden sounds intriguing. Do you see her often?” Deevana said, walking across the room to the window.

  “She visits the Tree of Virtues at least once a week, my lady. I believe she is there now.”

  “Well, I look forward to meeting her,” his sister said with a toss of her hair. “But I want to be presentable when I do. If you don’t mind, brother, my maid and I have much to do. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  His sister nodded toward the door.

  “So you’ll be here in your rooms until then?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said quickly. “Where else would I go?”

  The door shut behind him. He heard his sister laugh and headed to his own rooms next door, which boasted darker colors than his sister’s but a bed just as big, and a separate space with a table and chairs near a window that also had a view of the square and the tree.

  Keeping his cloak on, he pulled a chair next to the window and waited. He would have preferred to watch the door from the stables, but while he wasn’t sure how exactly a lord was supposed to behave, he doubted many made a habit of hiding with the horses. After half an hour had passed, he wondered if maybe he had misjudged his sister’s intent. Then he spotted the fluttering of a red cloak below and his sister hurrying down the walkway with the innkeeper’s daughter at her side.

  When he stepped outside, the red cloak was approaching a small gate that led to the courtyard where the tree stretched toward the sunlight. Her head was high and her shoulders straight. He wove through the people hurrying about the city until he reached the low stone wall that circled the tree’s grove. Now that he was closer, he could see the sides of Deevana’s hair had been braided and wrapped around the back of her head in an intricate pattern, which explained why it had taken her so long to venture into the city. His sister said something to the girl, who nodded and stayed by the gate while Deevana moved forward.

  Raising the hood of his cloak, Graylem moved to where he had a better view of his sister as she approached the enormous tree. She placed a hand on the gnarled bark then knelt next to a group of women who had been there for some time.

  After several minutes, a woman stepped out of the center of all the others. It was the woman in white. When she removed the hood, he could tell her long dark hair was styled in the same fashion as his sister currently wore. That was no coincidence. And it was certainly no accident that when his sister rose, she lost her balance and drew the attention of the woman who could only be the new seeress of Eden.

  “Excuse me, guardsman,” said Graylem as he approached the four men in mail shirts. The one wearing the mark of the King’s personal guard had streaks of gray winding through his dark beard and a small scar on his forehead. The other guards behind him looked to be barely older than Graylem’s sixteen years.

  The older guard nodded. “Is there something we can help you with, my lord?”

  “The lady in white near the tree. Do you know her name? She is quite beautiful.” The woman
had turned her head to speak to Deevana, giving him a clear view of deeply tanned skin that almost glowed, high cheekbones, and dark eyes that narrowed just a bit at the edges.

  The guard laughed. “You must not be from around here.”

  “My family hails from Orgo.” His sister had claimed they were from another district, but Graylem didn’t feel right about lying to a man who wore the seal of the King’s Guard. “This is the first time I’ve had the chance to visit Garden City.”

  “Even if you had visited before, you would not have seen Seeress Imogen.”

  His heart sank as the King’s Guardsman confirmed what Graylem had suspected. His sister had been in Garden City for just a handful of hours and she had managed to meet the Seeress of Eden.

  “And you aren’t the only one who finds her attractive, my lord.” The King’s Guardsman smirked. “She arrived at the end of winter and is already betrothed to Prince Micah.”

  Prince Micah. The heir to the throne. Graylem sighed at his sister’s brashness. “It figures.”

  The older guard laughed as he watched the woman by the Tree of Virtues—the white cloak of the seeress making her stand out like a rose in the midst of a group of weeds. “If you came to Garden City to look for a potential wife, my lord, it is better to choose one who doesn’t claim to read the future or set the wind after you.”

  Graylem grinned, although he couldn’t help noticing the look in the guard’s eyes when he spoke of the seeress’s skills and the way the younger guards shifted or rolled their eyes.

  “If I wanted a wife, I would have stayed in Orgo,” Graylem said. “I came because I am curious about what it takes to become a member of the King’s Guard.”

  The older guard turned to study him. “I assume your noble-born father told you stories filled with the glory and honor of defending the King and the Council and encouraged you to come?”