Forbidden Fruit

by Joelle Charbonneau

  Deevana laughed. “I didn’t want to. Besides, I thought you would want to spend your time on the practice fields.”

  In all truth, he would, even if Roddick’s warnings about the oath he would have to take and the faces of the men he had killed still echoed in his memory. He wasn’t sure what he would do yet about the guard, but he wouldn’t have to make that choice until Deevana was safely married and living as the Lady of Green Valley. “Well, at the very least I can escort you to the Palace and maybe see some of the wonders Father used to talk about.”

  Deevana bit her lip, and he sighed. “What is it now?” he asked.

  “You can’t come in to the Palace.” Deevana looked out the window toward the courtyard and the Tree of Virtues. “You haven’t been invited.”

  “I’m sure your new friends won’t mind extending the invitation to your brother.”

  “They would, but they don’t think I’m here with my brother.”

  “There is no way they believe a highborn lady came to Garden City alone.”

  “They don’t. They think I am being escorted to my aunt Venia in Irae by a skilled swordsman from her guard.”

  “And how did they come to believe that?”

  “Because I told them.” Deevana gave him a bright smile. “I did it for you, Graylem. That way on the chance you do decide to join Eden’s Guard you won’t have to lie if anyone questions your family line. I’m looking out for you, little brother.”

  He was sure that this was how she fooled herself into believing her deceptions were warranted. He just wished he didn’t know his sister so well.

  The rest of the walk was mostly done in silence with his eyes on his sister while hers were raised to the top of the plateau and the impossibly high white walls of the Palace of Winds—desire and excitement shining bright on her face.

  “You will be careful,” he said quietly, taking his sister’s arm as they reached the top of the steps before she could head for the gates. “You won’t steal anything.”

  “I told you, Graylem . . .” Deevana yanked her arm away. “A lady doesn’t steal. She has other ways of getting things she wants, and here in Garden City, I am a lady. Don’t worry about waiting to walk with me back to the inn. I will have one of Eden’s Guardsmen escort me home.” His sister turned on her heel and, with her head high, strode toward the gates, where after a quick discussion with the guards she was allowed entrance.

  He walked to the gate and watched a guard escort Deevana through the main courtyard before disappearing into one of the dozens of doorways—into the dream she had been holding onto for as long as he could remember. Since he didn’t have an invitation into the Palace, there was little he could do by remaining, but he couldn’t bring himself to go.

  “Do you have business at the Palace?” one of the guards stationed at the gate asked.

  “Not today,” he said. With one last glance at the walls, he turned and headed back to the inn. While his sister was playing lady inside, he would do what he had to in order to honor his mother’s wishes and ensure Deevana became a lady outside.

  He hurried back to the inn and up to his sister’s room, where he dug through the bottom of the wardrobe for the satchels she had insisted on bringing with her from Blackthorn. There were two that had yet to be opened. He undid the fastenings on the first and emptied the contents onto the bed.

  A small leather pouch, a small white fox pelt, four spoons, and three dining forks—all of silver—fell out of the first satchel. The pouch contained at least four dozen coins of bronze and copper. Not enough to pay for their rooms, but it would help.

  He tied the pouch to his belt and opened the second bag. Inside were four silver candlesticks, two goblets of gold decorated with etchings of vines on the stem and roses on the chalice, and three gold chains. All made him shake his head at his sister’s audacity. She had stolen so much from those who would happily punish her for her actions. But it was the necklace with ropes of gold and silver entwined with an orb of yellow hanging from the center that made him want to grab his sister and shake their father’s influence out of her. Graylem had seen the jewel gracing Lady Blackthorn’s neck at tournaments and public events. People whispered that it had been a gift from the High Lord Wynden and Lady Rivenda.

  As reckless as his sister was, he had a hard time believing she would have dreamed of stealing the necklace from Blackthorn Keep and surviving the escape. Had she created a plan to take the necklace, she would have left the Keep immediately and been long away from Blackthorn before anyone noticed the jewel was missing. The fastening hook made him believe his sister had acted on impulse and had almost paid a high price for her folly. That setback should have made her more careful, but from what he had seen his sister had only exchanged one plot for another.

  He packed the cups, the candlesticks, and the fancy dining forks and spoons into one of the bags to take with him. The jeweled necklace and the other items he shoved into the other satchel, which he placed back in the wardrobe.

  He found Sasha getting water from the pump behind the inn.

  She turned and almost spilled her pail as she spotted him staring at her. He frowned at the recent bruise coloring her right cheek as she gave an awkward curtsy and asked, “Is there something I can do for you, my lord?”

  “I need a favor,” he admitted. “My sister and I are from a place far to the north where there are more rabbits and pointed-horn deer than people. I am aware of the dangers of the city, but my sister sees only the excitement of the buildings and the shrines and the court.” He reached for the pouch at his side. “Since the Lady Deevana balks at my desire to always be at her side to protect her, I am hoping you will help me keep watch over my sister and let me know when she returns to her rooms and if she leaves without my knowledge.”

  Sasha set the pail down with a slosh. “I do not want to upset Lady Deevana, my lord. She has already complained to my father about my slow service.”

  Which explained the bruise on her face.

  Graylem pulled several copper nicks out of the bag, then looked around to make sure no one else was near. “My sister is often displeased with me as well, and your father should know that there is no pleasing some people no matter how fast or slow you are. I will make sure to speak to my sister to make sure she is aware how lucky she is to have such a capable maid to assist her.”

  The girl gave him a shy smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Will you help me as well?”

  The girl glanced around and nodded.

  He pressed the copper into her hands, wishing his face looked as attractive when he blushed. “If the Lady Deevana asks, we never had this conversation. Those of us who anger my sister need to stick together.”

  He left the girl to her chores and went in search of her father, who was quick to recommend a shop where Graylem might ask about some items that he claimed had been stolen from his family.

  “I need someone who has a good eye and a fair heart,” he explained.

  “Goodman Yarrow is the best and the most discreet merchant I know, my lord,” the innkeeper assured Graylem, then provided him with directions through the complex network of streets that wound through the city. “Look for the red door and the sign etched with a swan.”

  Armed with that information, Graylem set out with his sister’s satchel on his shoulder and a hand on the hilt of his sword. The day was warmer than normal for so early in the spring, and it seemed as if everyone in the city was moving through the streets.

  Old women with thick, woolen shawls draped over their shoulders clutched them with wrinkled hands. Young children dashed in and out of alleys, whose laughter and sweaty faces belied the cold around them. Highborn in fine clothing. Commoners in worn cloaks and drab colors. Then two members of the King’s Guard in their cloaks of blue and yellow and another dozen guardsmen passed by.

  All eyes on the street turned to the men riding under the banner of King Ulron. One man slunk into an alley—clearly worried the guard might be lo
oking for him—but almost everyone else looked at the men with respect. Graylem had noticed the commoners here rarely wore swords at their sides. They couldn’t afford the cost of a blade. Not here where coin was so dear and the blacksmiths had no interest in wasting their work on those who could not pay large sums for it. But he spotted dozens of men with daggers on their belts as he turned down streets hoping he had not taken a wrong turn.

  Graylem fingered his own weapon as he walked, thinking about what he would do different if the opportunity to fight Roddick ever came again. He still wasn’t sure if he was ready to take an oath and live in a city so large and so far away from everything he had known. But last night, when the faces of those he had killed faded from his dreams, the image of Princess Carys appeared, and once again he watched as she protected her brother from those who were sworn to see him safe. The only reason for such a deception was distrust of the men whose oaths were made to her family and to Eden. He found himself wondering if that distrust was well placed and what it would take to earn it back.

  Still thinking of the Prince and Princess of Eden, Graylem spotted the mark of the swan over a red door. Straightening his shoulders, he pushed open the door, strolled in, and frowned as if the place was not what he had expected. After all, he was supposed to be a lord.

  The scent of cinnamon and flowers greeted him, as did an incredibly tall and equally rotund man dressed in black velvet pants and a frothy green shirt. The man limped forward and smiled a greeting that made the wide, jagged scar that slashed across his face and mouth appear almost as if it were alive.

  “Lady Imogen and Lord Roddick both claim I can count on discretion in this shop,” Graylem lied as he shut the door behind him. Being recommended by the Seeress of Eden and a member of the King’s Guard was a greater incentive to be honest than if Graylem mentioned the true source. If the innkeeper asked, Graylem would say he hadn’t found Goodman Yarrow and none would be the wiser.

  The merchant’s grin widened. The large body rocked with silent laughter and Graylem caught a glimpse of the emptiness inside the man’s mouth and understood why the merchant had called Goodman Yarrow discreet. The man could not speak of what transpired inside these walls because the man had no tongue. But he could write with long, fluid letters as he bartered over the value of the silver and gold Graylem had to sell.

  Graylem had a basic knowledge of the value of the pieces in the northern district and suspected they would fetch even more coins here in a city where there were so many more with the wealth to pay the price. Still, he was stunned when the merchant offered him double what he would have asked and amazed when he received triple that offer after their lengthy negotiation was complete. The coins should be more than enough to settle their debts and allow them to leave Garden City in good standing. Now if only he could convince his sister to do nothing untoward before it was time for them to go.

  “You went through my things?” Deevana stormed to the hearth and put her hand on the mantel next to a scarred wooden box. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “I did what you said you wanted—I sold most of the items you liberated from our old life to pay for this one.” He took a deep breath and pulled back his anger, knowing it would only push her away. “I didn’t sell the necklace. It’s still in your bags. I thought you might want to wear it once before you sell it. Although it might not be so lucky to wear it when you go to visit the shrines.”

  A reluctant smile tugged at the edge of his sister’s lips. “Perhaps not. Or maybe the Gods have a better sense of humor than you do.”

  Graylem let out a relieved sigh as his sister’s resentment faded.

  “And it’s not like I have need of candlesticks on the battlements or in the Palace of Winds,” Deevana admitted.

  “The battlements?” he asked.

  “The view is amazing up there. And the turn of the windmills is so loud you could swear they were going to pick up the Palace and fly it away. You should see it,” Deevana said, then shrugged. “I guess you will see it if you become a guard. I saw several guardsmen when I went up to pay my respects to Lady Imogen. Most of the ladies don’t like going onto the battlements, although many men do, including Prince Andreus.”

  Which meant she was drawing attention by scaling the steps and stepping out onto the top of the Palace.

  “You didn’t go up there to try and meet the Prince, did you?”

  “Of course not.” Deevana laughed with obvious surprise, making him breathe easy for a moment. Then she gave him the familiar smile that made everything inside him tense with fear. “I found exactly what I was looking for on the battlements, brother. You can relax.”

  No, he thought as she answered the knock that came at the door and young Sasha entered with water for Deevana’s bath. He would not relax. Not until he had his sister safely away.

  The next day, the skies were muted with gray clouds and still darker ones on the horizon as he walked with his sister on the now-familiar route to the Palace. The subdued skies did not dampen his sister’s mood as they walked or the gleam in her eye as she disappeared inside the Palace entrance. She did not see the storm coming or notice the way a guardsman stepped out of an alcove that she passed by. Maybe it was a coincidence, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

  “We should leave today,” he said the next morning when his sister finally unlocked the door to her room dressed in a green and gold gown—the glitter of Lady Blackthorn’s jewel dangling between her breasts.

  Deevana had slipped into the inn long after the wind-powered lights had illuminated the city. Now she held a satchel filled to bursting with offerings of food for the shrines in one hand while the wind outside howled. Storms were approaching.

  “We’ve talked about this. The ladies are waiting for me to visit the shrines. I have to go.”

  “Deevana,” he said, grabbing her by the arm as she tried to sweep out of her room past him. “A guard followed you after you entered the Palace yesterday. What have you done to draw his attention? What have you taken?”

  “Nothing!” she snapped, although he could hear the edge of concern in her voice. “I have listened and watched, but I have taken nothing. Just as I promised. You constantly think the worst of me. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

  “I think the worst? How can you say that after everything that has happened?” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Right now you are safe, and I promised Mother I would keep you that way. We are leaving for Irae and Green Valley today. There is a life waiting for you there. The life of a lady . . .”

  His sister yanked her arm free. “Yes, a lady married to some sort of cripple who can barely speak, let alone come to court.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “And you don’t know that I’m wrong,” she hissed. “I won’t leave with you. You can’t make me. Just because you are too scared to break the rules to gain what you want or too uncomfortable showing off your skills doesn’t mean I have to be.”

  Heartache burned his throat. “This isn’t about me . . .”

  “No.” She lifted her chin. “It’s about me. Unlike you, I am taking control of my life. I’m finding a way to get what I want. What I really want—not the scraps that you or Lady Venia or anyone else bestows upon me.”

  Fear spiked inside him. “This is not Blackthorn Keep, Deevana. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “You are the one that doesn’t know, brother. You have never seen the world for what is really is. You think you are so much better than Father and me, but what you really are is weak.”

  Hurt churned in his gut. He could feel her slipping away. “Deevana . . .”

  “It’s Lady Deevana, Graylem,” she said sharply. Stepping close to him, she said quietly, “No one born to our station gets what we deserve in this life unless they take it. Father taught us both that. So you can crawl back to the life we had before and beg people to let you earn their respect. Meanwhile, I will do what Father told
me to do.”

  “At least let me watch out for you,” he said as she started out the door. “Mother would want—”

  “I don’t care what Mother would want,” she sneered. “And I don’t need your protection. Don’t follow me today. Don’t try to be the hero in the stories because you will never be one. And I’ll order one of the ladies’ guards to arrest you and throw you in the North Tower if you try.”

  “Deevana . . .” He stepped toward her. “I’m your brother.”

  For a second he saw something soften in her eyes. He saw the sister who had laughed with him when they were little and cried with him when they buried their parents in the ground. Then it was gone, and the hardness was back. Straightening her shoulders, his sister said, “I’m Lady Deevana, and Lady Deevana doesn’t have need of a brother.”

  With that she swept out the door, down the stairs, and, if she had her way, out of his life.

  7

  A knock startled him, and he sat up straight in the chair he had dragged to the window to watch for his sister’s return. He had called himself a fool for still caring when his sister clearly wanted nothing to do with his protection, but still he had sat there and kept watch.

  Only he had fallen asleep.

  The knock came again.

  “Lord Graylem!” Sasha’s voice whispered as he leapt out of his chair and hurried across the darkened room. The girl stood in the doorway, holding a candle that illuminated her dark eyes. “I am sorry to disturb you, m’lord, but you asked me to keep watch for your sister.”

  “She’s returned?”

  Sasha shook her head. “She’s gone to the Palace. I was in the stables when I saw two men from the King’s Guard stop her on the street. I was too far away to hear what they were saying, but one handed her a sealed scroll and a small box. Once she came inside, she called for me to help her fix her hair then asked me to heat water for washing and to bring her soup and bread. I was only gone for fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. But when I came back the box, the note, and your sister were gone.”