by Emily Deady
“I’ve been drying all the extra seeds,” Ashlin offered. “We can plant twice as much as soon as the frost thaws.”
“Seeds?” Her stepmother scoffed. “You think a handful of coins every market day will see us through this? The only thing we have left to sell is the house itself. But where would that take us? To a farmer’s hut where the only thing we could do is continue selling vegetables?”
“What if I could find work somewhere?”
“The only place that will pay more than eggs and a bed is the palace.”
“I could work at the palace,” Ashlin offered immediately.
Her stepmother’s face softened. “You would do that for us? For our family?”
Ashlin nodded. “Of course. We are family.”
“When you’ve finished supper, come and play this game with Stasiya. I’m sure she is tired of playing against me.”
Ashlin finally stopped shivering. But this time, the warmth came from inside her. She was needed and appreciated.
Chapter 2
The light drizzle had turned into a raging onslaught of water and wind. Onric hunched over his horse, trying not to dwell on the fact that his older brother had been right once again. Ian, who was riding a few paces ahead of him, had insisted they return home when the rain had unexpectedly started that afternoon. But when it had stopped just as quickly, Onric had cajoled him into remaining so they could continue their secret search for a certain prohibited item. Now the storm had returned, and it was not letting up.
While Onric still felt justified in his decision—it was not often they escaped their various responsibilities and their younger siblings for an entire day—he hated to cede to his older brother’s advanced intelligence and impeccable knack for planning.
Then, in the gathering rain, Onric had slipped down a muddy embankment and torn a long gash down the length of his sleeve. He was bruised, saddle sore, and miserable.
He tried to find the feelings of excitement and freedom that had permeated his day, to keep the sense of adventure alive, but the constant stream of water pouring off his hood had sapped all his good feelings away. The only thing he could find to be grateful for was the fact that he was fairly dry, as though his cloak was magically waterproof. Perhaps Mistress Cedrice was a renegade Majis and had sewn a dry spell into the new jerkin she had made him. Ha. Imagining the harmless old woman as a dangerous Majis brought back his good humor. But even if she had used illegal magic to make his clothing waterproof, he would thank her on bended knee the next time he saw her.
His horse stopped. “Come on, Blossom, we have to keep going,” he pleaded. But his usually compliant steed did not budge.
It was then that Onric noticed his older brother had stopped as well. How his horse could sense that when it was too dark and stormy to see one’s own hand, he had no idea. But he patted Blossom’s neck appreciatively.
“I think I saw a light up ahead,” Ian yelled.
“Are you sure you were not imagining it through this endless downpour?” Onric knew his temper was getting the best of him, but he couldn’t help it. Humble pie was not his favorite dish.
In true Ian fashion, his brother ignored the irritated tone. “It’s not responsible to keep going under the current conditions, for our sake as well as the horses. They could be injured too easily. If there’s a barn or a cottage, or any sort of shelter, we should stop until morning.”
Onric could not argue with that, so he simply nodded miserably. Then, realizing his nod could not be seen in the dark, he followed it up with an affirmative grunt. “Or at least until this rain lets up,” he contributed.
Following the glimpses of light that they occasionally caught through the trees and rain, they made their way to a large stone mansion. Despite the late hour, a dim light shone through the windows on the bottom level.
“Shall we knock and frighten the inhabitants, or can we just sneak around back to take advantage of the barn?” Onric looked towards Ian. “We’ll be gone by morning.”
“We should at least knock and let the landowners know we are here. It would be the right thing to do.”
Onric sighed. He could not argue with that. “Except that when they discover two sopping princes on their doorstep, they will no doubt wake the entire household and implore us to remain awake for a midnight feast.”
“Are you saying you would turn down a hot meal right now?” Ian’s voice actually held a note of jest.
“You got me there.” Onric had to smile back at his older brother. At least they were sharing this unfortunate adventure together. “Well, let’s get this over with.”
“If you want to avoid a midnight feast, you might consider taking this one alone. I’m the one who is most likely to be recognized—you know, since I actually attend the royal functions in town.”
“Well, if this is my only payback for leaving that glamorous responsibility to you, I gladly accept it.” Onric slid off his horse, grunting as he landed with a not-so-graceful splash on the muddied ground. “Wait here.”
“Offer them something for the trouble.”
Onric had already thought of that, but he did not bother to respond. He handed the reins to his brother and approached the front door of the house.
He pounded on the door, not loud enough to wake everyone inside, but just loud enough to be heard over the storm.
Nothing happened. He knocked again, slightly louder.
Finally, the door opened a crack, and he saw a young woman with a brown kerchief around her hair. Her soft eyes were large and dark in the dim candlelight as they gazed up at him, searching his face while she held the door firmly in place.
In an effort to appear less threatening, Onric took half a step backward and dropped his hood to show his face.
“Excuse me, miss, I’ve been caught in the storm.” He held out an open palm, showing three coins. “Would you be so kind as to let me and my two horses spend the rest of the night in your barn? We’ll be gone by morning.”
Her eyes widened at the sight of the gold in his hand and she glanced back inside, as though checking to make sure no one else was awake. Turning back, she scrutinized his face for several more moments, and her eyes softened. “It’s a bad night to be caught out,” she finally said. “Put the horses in the barn around back, then meet me at the kitchen door. I’ll see if I can find some dry blankets.”
“Thank you, miss. That would be most appreciated.” He bowed slightly and handed her the coins. She closed the door, and he tossed his hood up before trudging back to his brother. “We can stay in the barn. I didn’t mention you.”
“Good. Probably for the better.”
They found the barn after some fumbling in the darkness, but eventually got both horses settled in two empty stalls. All the stalls were empty from the looks of it, which was disheartening but not unusual. The erratic storm patterns had destroyed countless harvests during the past few harvest seasons, and everyone was struggling these days.
Leaving Ian in the barn, Onric again braved the open weather as he made his way back to the house. The kitchen door was easy to find as the maid had left it open a crack, letting an inviting stream of warm light spill out into the darkness. When he peered through the doorway, though, she herself was nowhere in sight. In that moment, the modest kitchen with its open fire crackling in the hearth was the most inviting thing he had ever seen. It took more self-control than he cared to admit not to enter the house uninvited and dry off. So as not to frighten the small woman, he simply removed his gloves and contented himself with trying to warm his hands through the crack in the open doorway.
A few moments later, she reappeared and opened the door wide, motioning for him to step inside. He gladly accepted the offer.
“Quietly, please,” she whispered, stepping up beside him to shut the door. She tilted her head up to him with a small smile. “Not that anyone could hear anything above this storm.”
He liked her smile. Despite the crackling fire, it was easily the warmest thing in
the room. “I’m surprised you heard my knock.”
“I almost missed it.” She stepped away from him and motioned towards the fire. “Come. Warm yourself for a moment.”
Slipping off his cloak, he hung it on a peg by the door so as not to drip water throughout the room. Then he gratefully made his way to the fire.
Meanwhile, the girl looked through baskets and shelves in the kitchen. She was small, and obviously a maidservant in the household. Her thin dress did not have the added layer of furs that the daughter of a landowner would wear during the cold season. It was not unusual, but it was a cruel reflection of her master or mistress not to provide an extra layer of protection, especially as this silverreign had been excessive in both length and chill. It gave her a weightless air, though, not to be bundled in furs as she stood on her tiptoes peering into a cabinet. Her hair was a light brown with flecks of gold that reflected the dancing flames of the fireplace. It was braided around the back of her head and held in place with a knotted kerchief. Realizing he was staring, Onric quickly moved his eyes around the rest of the room. A basin of water and a washboard were right next to him, along with a basket of clothing.
“Are you washing clothes? At this hour of the night?” he asked, realizing a moment too late that his question was blunt and accusatory.
“It was a long market day,” she responded, as though that were answer enough. Turning towards him, she held a plate that contained some bread and hard cheese. “I’m afraid I have nothing finer to offer you, but please eat.”
He gratefully accepted the plate. “After the day I have had, this looks finer than a feast.” He thought of Ian in the barn with a pang of guilt. At the very least, he could smuggle a bite out to him. He would be leaving the warm kitchen in a few moments, anyways.
“Please, sit and eat while you dry off.” She gestured towards the rough wooden table in the center of the room.
He moved to sit down, but his sleeve, split from the shoulder to wrist, was hanging down at an awkward angle and caught the corner of the table. It disrupted his movement, and he landed in the chair a bit heavily, rocking it back before he caught and steadied himself. He extricated his flailing sleeve and tried to tuck the sagging fabric safely out of the way.
The maid stepped closer. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
“At my sleeve? You needn’t trouble yourself.”
“I’m an excellent seamstress.”
“Oh! I have no doubt, but I can get it fixed later.”
“I can’t send you back out in the storm with a tear such as that.” She was standing right next to him.
“If you insist.” He held out his left arm.
She picked up the torn ends, pulling them into their proper place above his arm and pinching them back together as she surveyed the damage. “If you care to wait by the fire for a little extra time, I can fix this. It won’t take long.”
He could feel the light touch of her fingertips through the fabric of his shirt. The innocent gesture heightened his senses. “Thank you, that would be most kind.”
She stepped back expectantly.
“Do I need to take it off?”
She nodded. “To get the seam to sit correctly, I’ll need to sew it from the inside out.”
He stood from the table and began to unbutton his outer jerkin.
Turning her back to him, she unhooked his cloak from the peg on the wall where he had placed it. She then carried it towards the fire, where she spread it out over the backs of two chairs to dry off. Her fingers slid over the seam that connected the hood to the cloak, her back still towards him.
He slipped off his jerkin and undid the small tie that held his undershirt closed at the base of his neck. Slipping the undershirt over his head, he held it out towards her. “Here.”
She turned at his words, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the fire. Her eyes skimmed his bare chest before they landed on the shirt in his hands. “Let me grab my needle.” She took the shirt from his hands and set it on the edge of the table before disappearing from the room.
Noticing her discomfort, Onric slipped his jerkin back on to at least cover his chest, though it left his arms bare. He sat back down and tore a piece from the loaf of bread.
A few pieces of parchment were stacked in the center of the table. He could see a rough sketch, done in charcoal, of a dress. At first glance, he might have dismissed it, but the numbers and notes scribbled around it caught his attention and he pulled it closer.
She returned, setting a small basket of sewing supplies on the table and sitting across from him. Without looking at him, she prepped her needle and began to carefully position the sleeve of his shirt.
He bit into the slice of bread. It was a hearty loaf, and his stomach growled in appreciation.
“Did you draw these?” he asked, indicating the parchments in front of him.
She nodded, still focused on her work.
As she hadn’t told him not to, he took a closer look at the next sheet in the stack. It was filled with odd shapes, also surrounded by measurements. It was unusual for a kitchen maid to know how to read, but it looked as though she was designing a dress pattern. “Are you apprenticed to a dressmaker?”
That caught her attention. She looked up at him. “No. I wish . . . Not yet. I would like to be. I was just trying to sort some thoughts in my head earlier today.”
He restacked the parchments, not sure what to say. Apprenticeships were free, so as to be available to anyone in the kingdom who desired to learn a new trade.
“You seem to have the interest and skill. Why would you not pursue an apprenticeship?” He shut his mouth, realizing once again that his words were blunt.
“I’d rather not say.”
Onric raised his eyebrows, enjoying the frankness but unused to hearing “no” from someone who was not his sibling.
“Can I ask how you came by such a large tear in your sleeve?” she queried. Her voice had changed to a more conversational tone, as though she were trying to change the subject.
“And why I am out in such bad weather?”
“Well, yes, that too.” She smiled and glanced up at him. Her eyes took in his bare shoulders and quickly dropped back to her work.
“My bro . . . horses and I were visiting the old monastery down by the sea. We stayed out later than we should have, even though I noticed the clouds rolling in. As the ground got wet, I took a little tumble down a muddy embankment.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No, not even a scratch. Just caught the sleeve on a branch as I fell.” He bit into the cheese. It had the earthy tang of goat. He took another bite, relaxing in the warmth and food.
“I wish I could visit the monastery again.” The girl tugged on her needle, drawing a thin line of thread through the shirt.
“You’ve been there?” He was mildly surprised. The sea was a few hours ride away and frequented by the nobles, but it was not often that the working class would travel there.
“When I was very little, I visited it with my parents. That was before the monks had abandoned it, though. Is it true that they are all gone?”
“One of the older monks still lives in a small hut further down the coast.”
She did not respond, but he noticed that her brow seemed tense. She tugged on the needle again, smoothly gliding the thread along behind it.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. It just makes me a little sad. I remember being so fascinated by the mixture of quietness and activity. I should like to visit it again, but . . . I imagine it would be terribly somber with just the silence. Was it lonely?”
Onric paused. He had not thought of that. He had been so focused on his search that he had not stopped to notice how the empty stone structures had felt. “I don’t know. I don’t think I really noticed.”
She looked up at him then, her eyes once again looking for something in his face. “How could you not notice? What did it feel like?”
He placed the cheese back on
the plate and tried to recall his experiences of the day. “Well, it was empty, so it felt . . . empty. And I guess it was quite looted, which does make me feel a little sad now that I think about it.”
“Looted?” Her eyes were wide. “Everything? The hives? The library?”
“Well, I’m sure the monks took the important manuscripts with them.”
“I think it’s terrible that they were forced to leave.” Her voice held a note of bitterness.
This was getting interesting. “Even though Crown Prince Ian specifically issued the decree in accord with the regulations of the Council?”
She looked up again quickly, a slight fear in her eyes. “No, I’m not saying the prince did wrong. It just seems unfair that the monastery had to be uprooted because it was so close to the sea.”
“It was for everyone’s safety.”
“What about the safety of the people in the town? The monks cared for everyone—the people, the animals, the plants, the shipwrecked sailors. What about their safety? Now everyone is at the capricious whims of the sea.” She had stopped sewing and was stabbing the air with her needle to emphasize her point.
He leaned on his elbows, to get closer to her across the table. “What about the safety of the monks themselves? The Majis are returning, and they have a unique power over the sea.”
“The monks knew the risks, and they wanted to stay. They are as much a part of that monastery as the stones themselves.”
“But they still followed the orders from Prince Ian.”
She paused, obviously wary of speaking ill of the royal family. “I just wish King Frederich had stopped them.” She had dropped her eyes back to his shirt, deftly catching the fabric with her needle.
Onric was thoroughly enjoying himself. People generally did not speak to members of the royal family so openly. Perhaps his brain was muddled from the cold, or perhaps it was the few mahogany curls that had come loose and slipped down the side of her face, but he would be happy to continue conversing with this girl all night.