by Emily Deady
“How long has she been here?” Lord Munney cried, ignoring the question and raising his voice as he pointed towards Ashlin. “This was a confidential meeting of the king’s advisors! Seize her. Guards!”
Ashlin froze. Her hand had grabbed the door handle, but she must have realized it would be useless to run deeper into the castle.
The inner courtyard had no stationed guards, as it was safely away from the perimeter gates.
Onric stepped forward, his mind reeling for a reason to excuse her.
“Ah, yes, Prince Onric,” Lord Munney continued, his panicked voice slightly higher than it typically was, “head of the castle guard. Arrest her!”
“That is under my jurisdiction, Councilor, and not yours,” Onric replied. He stepped towards Ashlin but made no move to apprehend her.
“For all you know, she is a Majis spy,” Lord Munney sputtered.
“For all we know, you could be a Majis spy,” Onric replied, trying to buy himself time. The only explanation he could conceive was the truth, and that was not something he was ready to share with everyone currently in the courtyard.
“Onric,” his father warned. “Do not insult the councilor.”
“This woman is a trusted member of the palace staff. I will vouch for her.” He turned to Ashlin. “Go.”
She looked back at him, her face calm but her eyes wide. “I was just passing through to get to my duties—”
“I will have her questioned,” Lord Munney said, cutting her off.
“To what end?” Onric countered. “The Majis will be on our shores in less than a year. What information do you have that is worth keeping secret at this point?”
Lord Munney sputtered, speechless for the first time that day.
“Go,” Onric repeated under his breath to Ashlin.
She made a move towards the door, but turned back towards. “Should we not be preparing for a magical attack, rather than a forceful one?” Her voice was quick and quiet, so that only Onric could hear it.
He raised his eyebrows and nodded, feeling foolish for not having thought of that.
She disappeared through the door.
The councilor’s face was red with fury. “This is no trivial matter.”
“Lord Munney,” Onric interjected, “perhaps the spelled shield would have held up better under a magical attack.”
The man’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “I, uh, had not thought of . . . that is, the examiners did not send any instructions . . . Perhaps, you are right.” This thought seemed to have calmed the councilor a little. “That still does not negate the incredible breach in security that just took place.”
“I will see to this matter personally, Lord Munney,” King Frederich cut in, his voice calm but commanding. “If you would communicate with examiners about the proper use of the item they sent and request another shield?”
The councilor bowed his head at the king’s request, though his face was still quite red.
“This meeting is dismissed,” King Frederich said.
Onric waited by the door as the rest of the advisors filtered out of the courtyard. His father and brother remained by the shields until the area was empty.
“I appreciate your faith in our palace staff, son,” his father said, “but I believe there is more here that you are not telling me.”
“Indeed,” Ian added, eyebrows raised. “It seems much has happened since I left one week ago.”
“Welcome home, by the way,” Onric muttered. “Maybe you can give the ballroom tour to the next round of hopeful princesses.”
Ian did not even respond with a smile. Onric sobered, remembering that his brother would actually have to choose one of these women for his bride.
His father had not moved, waiting for Onric to explain what had happened.
“Come on.” Onric opened the door to the old castle and waved his father through.
Chapter 20
Ashlin threaded the needle, her heart pounding. Why had she thought that Onric’s face held a silent invitation to remain in the courtyard? He was a prince of Iseldis, and for all he knew, she was nothing more than a servant girl. He had simply gotten carried away when they had discovered the magic in the needle. She was nothing special to him.
But she had felt so special when his eyes caught hers across the courtyard, and she had wanted to stay when she realized they were discussing the magic.
She heard footsteps coming up the tower stairs. She was going to be sick if she did not faint first from the speed of the blood racing through her veins. What would they do to her?
She had known the risk in getting involved in this project. She had chosen it. She wanted to avenge her father’s death by preventing further deaths. The more she learned of the cruelty of the Majis and their magic, the more she felt certain that she was doing the right thing. That thought brought her strength, and she turned towards the tower door to bravely face whoever came through it.
Her confidence wavered slightly as King Frederich himself entered the old tower room. He was followed by Prince Ian, whose face was grim. But he nodded at her like they were old friends, and she felt the ghost of a smile on her face.
Onric entered last and shut the door behind him.
Ashlin was temporarily relieved that the councilor from Chendas was not with them. But that relief quickly died when she dared to look at King Frederich’s face. His calm gravity was even more unsettling. He gazed silently at the tapestry, running his eyes across the large panels that were visible on the makeshift table.
Ashlin still held the needle, rubbing it nervously between her fingers. She saw Prince Ian’s eyes narrow when he noticed it, and she set it down.
Onric stepped up to the table, standing between her and his family members. “Father, this is Ashlin.”
Ashlin dipped into a deep curtsy, holding it as long as she dared before standing back up. The king dipped his head lightly towards her, then turned his attention back to his son.
“She is restoring this ancient tapestry to be displayed at Ian’s ball next week,” Onric continued. “The tapestry appears to be from the Fall of the Majis queen, and I believe it may hold some information for us about the magic.”
“How so?”
“Well, we think that it . . .” Onric paused. He glanced at the needle, and then at the damaged panel. “We found the needle first. And then Ashlin uncovered this tapestry. And now . . .”
Ashlin could see the confusion in Onric’s face. He was probably considering the whole story and losing track of where it started and what was important to share.
“Certain panels in the tapestry have been meticulously destroyed, Your Majesty,” Ashlin explained. Her voice was quiet and clear, but her knees had begun to shake. “If we can restore those panels, we believe we can fill in the gaps of what happened when the Majis were exiled, perhaps giving us a deeper glimpse into that moment of history.” She took a shaky breath. Onric’s eyes encouraged her on. “I am a seamstress, and as such Prince Onric asked me to . . .” She paused for a brief breath, stopping herself from sharing the illegal secret of the needle.
The king looked at the panel currently open on the table. It was half damaged, but nearly a third of it had been restored. The contrast between the bright, colorful stitches and the destructive damage was quite stark. “This has been damaged beyond repair,” the king said in the wake of her pause. “How can you possibly know how to refill these blank areas?”
Ashlin swallowed, reaching a trembling hand out to touch the needle in front of her.
Onric took over. “I found a certain needle in the stores of an old monk by the sea, and we discovered that it is spelled. It guides the user to find the proper color for each area, and Ashlin has been using it this past week to restore this panel.”
The king reached out for the needle, and Ashlin dropped it into his hand. He examined it closely before looking back up between Ashlin and Onric. “I cannot keep this information from the councilor,” he said.
A
shlin shook her head, not even aware she was doing so. The thought of letting the angry lord near the beautiful tapestry in her care made her uneasy.
“You disagree?” King Frederich asked her. His face was still as solemn as when he had entered, but so far none of the information they had shared caused his wrath.
“I don’t . . .” Ashlin swallowed, not sure how to express the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. “I have no reason, Your Majesty. I simply do not trust him.”
“And yet,” the king said slowly, turning his face toward Onric, “my son trusted you.”
Onric looked at her. His face showed his open trust, but his mouth creased in thought as he seemed to struggle with a reason to explain himself.
“I don’t have a reason to believe it is a misplaced trust,” Ian interjected. “She is seemingly a servant girl from a small mansion outside the city. She kindly housed and fed us when we were caught out in the latest storm, though she had no idea who we were.”
Ashlin looked down at the table, feeling his kind words wash over her.
“Yet, there is more to you than meets the eye,” King Frederich said, tapping the needle against his hand. “How much longer will it take you to complete this panel?”
“Five more days, Your Majesty. Just in time for the ball.”
“You will keep me closely informed of every new development in this area,” the king said to Onric. He placed the needle back on the table and stood up straight, addressing his next words to the room as though there were far more than the four of them present. “But right now, I am pleased to see the palace staff are seriously preparing for the ball. It is an important event to further the stability of Iseldis during this difficult time.”
Ashlin nodded. He seemed to be saying that he would withhold their secret from the councilor for the time being, but she dared not ask him directly. She would speak to Onric about that later.
“Onric, a moment if you please.” King Frederich turned to his son and waved his hand towards the door.
“Of course.” Onric moved towards the door without looking back at Ashlin. Her heart dropped, but she reminded herself that she was no one special to him. The only connection they shared was in restoring the tapestry.
Ian waited while the two of them left the room. He picked up the needle and turned it over in his hand. “There is more to you than meets the eye, Miss Ashlin. You are no simple housemaid.” He looked up at her. “Is there something you are not telling us?”
Ashlin returned his gaze. “I am merely a woman whose family has fallen during these hard times, my Lord.” She weighed her words carefully, not wanting to share her family’s name out of respect for her stepmother’s wishes, but also not willing to tell a lie. “The home you stayed at was my father’s, not my master’s.”
He nodded, his eyes searching her face. “These are no mere games to be toying with.”
“I understand the risk, my Lord.”
“My brother has a kind heart. I would not see him hurt.”
It seemed he was pressing her intentions in more than one way. She kept her gaze open and honest. The mere thought of Prince Onric made her smile soften, even as her heart broke. “I understand.” Any sort of future between her and a prince would never be more than a dream. She should not have encouraged his closeness. “My father’s death was partially caused by a Majis storm, and Prince Onric invited me to participate in their downfall in this way. I will not betray that confidence.”
“I do not think that you will.” Prince Ian held out the needle. “Will you show me how this works?”
Chapter 21
“This is no small game we play, son,” King Frederich said to Onric as they wound their way down the tower stairs.
“I am playing at no game,” Onric replied, defenses bristling.
“I know you are not taking this lightly.” His father stopped at the base of the stairs, likely because it was a secluded area in which they would not be overheard. “But after that disaster in the courtyard, we must be on our guard more than ever. Lord Munney has made himself a valuable asset in this fight, and I do not wish to sow discord between Iseldis and the other kingdoms.”
“The spelled shield did not work. This needle is enchanted. It is the best source of information we are going to get.”
“I do not doubt your current endeavor,” his father replied. “In fact, I am quite proud of you.”
Onric inhaled, chest swelling.
“But there are other things I must ask of you which may make you feel like you are playing a game.”
“Yes?”
“Where did you find this girl?”
This was not how Onric wanted to introduce Ashlin to his father. “We met her as Ian mentioned, but she independently sought work at the castle and Steward Daniel hired her. He took to her quite quickly, which is saying something. She has no guile in her, Father. She is truly honest, as Ian was saying. Her father was killed in a shipwreck during a Majis-induced storm.”
His father held up a hand. “I am not questioning you or your judgment. You have never proven false in those areas. This is merely a conversation. I believe you.”
Onric stopped talking, realizing his heart was racing as he rushed to defend Ashlin. He wanted his father to think well of her.
“The defense of Iseldis, of the five kingdoms as a whole, depends on our stability,” his father continued. “While it is important for Ian to choose a crown princess in order to take the throne should anything happen to your mother and I . . . We also wish that you would choose a bride before the Return. This ball is the perfect place to do so.”
Onric’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled. He had already met several of the women who would be in attendance that night, and none had so much as stirred his heart.
“I know this is not easy to hear, Onric, but both you and Ian are well older than I was when your mother chose me. We would wish that you had the luxury of choosing to marry for love, as we did, but in these times that is a luxury we may not be able to allow ourselves.”
Onric could only think of one woman who had even remotely moved his thoughts towards marriage. His eyes strayed up the staircase towards the door to the tower room.
“Great sacrifices are required of each of us in this time,” his father continued, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently moving him away from the staircase. “And it pains me to ask them of you.”
Onric fully realized what his father had left unsaid. But he also knew the words his father had spoken were indeed true. He wanted to shrug off his father’s hand with some cutting remark about the uselessness of responsibility. But he was not Erich, who would have expressed his displeasure as a child might. Rather, Onric thought of Ian and his calm acceptance when he learned of the ball being thrown in his honor.
Perhaps he was not inferior to his older brother in every way. Perhaps he too could accept this responsibility with the impassive recognition that his station demanded. But his heart plummeted. His every interaction with Ashlin had been sewn into his heart. Ripping out the stitches would be more painful than he could imagine, and it would no doubt leave him as damaged as the tapestry panels in the room above him.
He let his father guide him out of the castle ruins and into the newer palace. His father wanted him to choose from among the women at the ball. Those women would all be from the noble families—mostly from Iseldis, but a few had traveled from the closer kingdoms. Unless . . .
“You’ve spoken to Mum about this?” Onric asked.
“Yes, she was adamant that we give you as much time as possible. But in light of the failed defensive demonstration this afternoon, I’m afraid we have no time left to give you.”
Onric nodded, feeling very big and mature for not throwing the tantrum he desired to throw.
“I am so sorry, son. But there are bound to be many wonderful options at the ball. Ian will be looking to make an alliance with another kingdom, but I will not place that same pressure on you. Feel free to choose a gentl
ewoman from our own Iseldis. I know how much this land means to you.”
“Thank you, Father. I understand.”
“I must go soothe the ruffled feathers of our councilor.”
“I do not envy you that position.” Onric watched his father go, then stepped inside the palace. The back staircase that led from the inner courtyard to the royal family’s living wing was the second place he had seen Ashlin. Walking up those steps again, he could not help but remember her fear and reservation that night. He never wanted to see her in that state again.
He entered the family salon where his mother was sitting at her desk.
She smiled up at him, but the smile quickly faded when she saw his face. “Your father spoke to you?” she asked.
He nodded, pacing across the room behind her desk. “Mother,” he said, turning to repeat the pacing process, “how have the invitations to the ball been received?”
“Quite well, of course. Why do you ask?” She had turned in her chair and was watching his movement.
“Will it be quite full?”
“I suppose so. What are you getting at?”
“Even though the recipients had so little time to prepare?” he asked, evading her question again.
“Onric. I don’t have the patience of my dear husband. Tell me plainly.”
Onric stopped pacing and faced his mother directly. “What would you say to opening the ball invitation, as an act of goodwill, to all the citizens of Iseldis? At least in the city here, that is. We will likely have the space for it, and us poor men will surely need all the help we can get to ensure that every lady gets her fair turn on the dance floor.”
“And if we extend the invitation past just those from noble families, perhaps a certain young woman may also come?”
Onric was suddenly very interested in the state of his fingernails. “Well, I hadn’t thought of that directly.”