by A. J. Medina
“Let’s go,” Princess Evelyn commanded while opening the door.
I held my hand out, Neala grabbed it, and I led her out into the palace.
After a few odd looks at the girl with the hood hiding her face, we made it to the castle city’s healer.
“Please ser, we need your help. Can you please help us?” I asked.
“Of course I can. I am the city’s healer, or haven’t you heard?”
“Neala, show him your face,” the princess said.
“Neala?” the healer asked. “Is that you? Come forward.”
Neala stepped forward, reached up and slid her hood back.
The healer’s eyebrows lifted and then he shouted. “Who has done this? We will report them to the king. They will lose their head immediately.”
“Nay, my lord. They won’t,” Neala whispered.
“It was my mother,” the princess added.
“The queen? I should’ve known.”
He raised his hand to Neala’s face and wasn’t quite sure where to start. “I can sew the wounds shut and they should heal. This is terrible. You don’t deserve this, my dear.”
I was about to say how evil the queen was for torturing Neala, but I caught myself. I couldn’t say those things with the princess standing right there, even if they were true.
“Wait here,” the healer told me and the princess, and then he took Neala into another room.
I hoped she would be alright.
“Don’t worry,” the healer said. “She’ll survive. She’ll be good as...,” he studied her again. “She’ll be fine.”
He must’ve been able to read my mind like so many others because he knew exactly what I was thinking. Why did so many people seem able to read my mind? I know it’s silly, but it sure felt that way.
While the healer worked on Neala, I waited outside alone. The princess had some duties she needed to attend to and left me by myself. Alone with my thoughts, I wondered what would become of Neala after this. Would the queen let her alone now that she destroyed her beauty, or would she still want to torture her further?
And why was the queen so jealous? The queen is so beautiful. Her beauty is far more impressive and eye catching than any of the servants, or even me. And yet she can’t stand Neala. Neala... Neala.... Neala....
It was so unfair. Neala was a slave and couldn’t fight back. Neala was a prisoner. Not a prisoner jailed in a dungeon, but a prisoner trapped in servitude. Not able to live the life she wants to. Not able to love who she wants to. Not able to marry or maybe have children one day with the man she loves. It wasn’t fair.
I could feel the tears starting to build and I tried to fight them off by thinking of Silas. That didn’t help. I turned my thoughts to Lucah. That didn’t help either. I thought of my mother. Nay, that made it worse.
When my thoughts turned to Queen Rosaleen, the tears were held back. Sadness didn’t fill my heart anymore. Sadness was replaced with anger. I stood and crossed the room over to the window. Looking out, I could see the palace in the distance. I imagined the queen sitting in her bath later, reveling in the fact that she had turned Neala hideous. Scarred her face so badly that she would be teased by children as she crossed the city.
Scarred her so badly that the king wouldn’t even want to look at her anymore. Aye... that must’ve been why she did it. Why she hurt Neala so. Her jealousy rose so high that she couldn’t stand it anymore.
When Neala was with me on my journey, the queen must’ve been happy to see her gone from her city. But we returned safe and without any harm. Maybe the queen thought Neala would be killed out in the woods. Or maybe that she would somehow be injured so badly that she wouldn’t be able to make it back.
I squinted my eyes and tried to focus on the palace. I thought I could just make out the princess’ chamber window.
The princess. How did Neala end up in the princess’ arms anyway? Was the princess involved? Did she hold Neala down while the queen did her dirty work?
Nay! I couldn’t believe that. The princess is kind. She could never do that to Neala...
Or maybe she could. After all, Neala is just her servant. Why would she care for a servant? But she must care for Neala, otherwise why did she bring her to me? And why did she help me bring her to the healer?
The healer broke my chain of thought.
“I have sewed her wounds shut.” His sleeves were rolled up his forearms and he wiped the trickles of blood that remained on his hands onto a rag. “Would you like me to send for a servant and return her to her living quarters?”
I couldn’t imagine sending Neala back to her servant’s quarters. Not with her needing someone to care for her. She was my friend and my chamber maiden. “Nay. Thank you for your help. I will take her back with me.”
“Very well. If that is your wish. Come.”
The healer turned and I followed him into the room he had taken Neala into earlier. She was standing and gazing out of the window. Children played outside and I couldn’t help but feel sad for her knowing how cruel children could be.
“Neala, let’s go back to my chambers. You can rest there if you like,” I said.
Without turning around, she said, “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“That’s nonsense. You’re my friend, not a burden.”
I ran up and hugged her from behind. My chin rested on her shoulder and she reached back and rubbed my hair.
She moved and tried to turn around, so I released my embrace. Her face was covered in white bandages.
“When you get to your chambers, remove her bandages and let them breathe the air. They will heal much quicker that way,” the healer advised.
“Thank you ser. Come Neala, let’s go.”
Neala nodded, pulled her hood back on, and hid her face.
After rushing through the city, past the guards at the palace entrance, and through the palace, we arrived back at my room.
“My cloak,” I said, holding my hand out.
Neala lowered the hood and untied the bow. After sliding it off, she handed it to me so that I could hang it back on the hook.
“Sit on the bed,” I told Neala. “Are you tired? Would you like to go to bed?”
“I am tired, but we should wash first.”
“Neala... rest.”
“Nay, we must wash first.”
“Neala, you’ve been through a lot. Please rest.”
“Nay!” Neala shouted. “We must wash!”
“If it’s that important to you, then fine.”
“I will prepare the bath,” she said.
When she stood to walk over to the washroom, I stopped her. “I will prepare the bath today.”
“But you don’t know how,” Neala said.
She was right. I didn’t know how. “Right. I don’t.”
“Thank you for trying to help, but I will prepare the bath.”
“If you tell me what to do, I will do it for you. At least for today. Please, let me help you, Neala.”
I waited for her response as she studied me. Finally she answered. “If it pleases you, then aye. I will explain what you need to do.”
After spilling water all over the place, we undressed and climbed in.
When we finished washing, it was time to remove Neala’s bandages so that her wounds could soak in the fresh air.
I kneeled in the bath in front of her and gently lifted the four corners of the bandages. The whole sheet came off in one pull.
Her wounds were clean and each gash was sewn shut with what appeared to be black thread.
“Am I hideous?” Neala asked.
She wasn’t. But I couldn’t help thinking that she resembled an old bear my mother once stitched for me.
“That bad?” Neala asked.
“Sorry.... No it’s not that bad.”
Neala’s lip curled. She knew I was lying. She looked around the washroom and when she found what she was looking for, stood in the bath and went to retrieve it.
“Neala, don’t!
” I pleaded.
She didn’t listen. Instead, she lifted the mirror in front of her face and gasped.
I went over, ready to hug her, when she cast her arm back and flung the mirror across the washroom. It shattered on impact.
“Neala? Are you alright?”
“The queen has her wish.”
“Her wish?”
Neala turned to face me. “When she was doing this,” Neala gestured across her face, “she said no one would ever love me or find me beautiful again. She said the king would be disgusted by me.”
“The wounds will heal—”
“But there will be scars. She said so. Never healing, always scarred.”
“You said that earlier. What is that?”
Neala sat back down in the water and lay back to soak her hair before sitting back up and leaning her back against the edge of the bath. I sat down next to her.
“Queen Rosaleen was chanting it over and over as she cut me with her dagger. She was casting a spell.”
“A spell? But she isn’t a wizard.”
“Nay, she’s a sorceress. She said it when the princess walked in on us. She’s a true born and said the princess is as well. The princess was telling her to stop and the queen continued, telling her to drink her elixir. When the princess wouldn’t drink it, the queen gave up reasoning with her and released me.”
“True born?”
“Aye.”
“Does the king know?”
“Nay. Queen Rosaleen said so.”
The queen... a sorceress? And her elixir. I felt off when I drank it. Now it made sense—the potion of manipulation. That’s how she controlled people. She had them drink it and they would do what she commanded. When they won’t keep drinking it, like I hadn’t, she gave up and dismissed them. It made so much sense now.
“Let’s go to bed,” I said. “You need your rest.”
We climbed out of the bath and dried ourselves. After leaving the washroom, I lent Neala one of my sleep shirts and after throwing them on, we climbed into bed. The room was freezing and I realized she hadn’t lit the fireplace. That, I definitely knew how to do.
After throwing in some wood and igniting it with a flick of my wrist, I ran back under the covers.
Once comfortable, I waved my hand and the room’s candles all went out. The flame dancing in the fireplace flickered, cracked and popped as it cast shadows around the room. Neala’s breathing was the only other sound I could hear.
“I am happy about one thing,” Neala said breaking the silence.
“What’s that?”
“I won’t have to do those things I never wanted to anymore.”
I searched for her hand under the covers and when I found it, gave it a squeeze.
Even if this hadn’t happened to her, I remember her saying that ever since she became my maiden, she hadn’t had to do those things. I didn’t want to remind her of that. At least she found the good in what the queen had done to her.
Chapter 28
I awoke in the middle of the night and no matter how much I tried to fall back asleep, the sandman just wouldn’t come. Neala however, slept like a baby. Her body must’ve went through a tough time when she was being tortured earlier.
Since I couldn’t sleep, I decided to head down to my workshop and read some more of the wizard’s journals. I had devoured the few I took on the journey and longed for more knowledge—all that he would share.
I threw my cloak on over my sleep shirt, and as quietly as I could, pulled open the door. The princess liked her quiet doors and made sure mine never burped a squeak as well. I shut the door and walked down the passageway, the bottoms of my feet chilled by the cold floor.
When I entered my workshop, I was about to say the magic words that would open the secret stairwell when I heard voices—an argument.
I focused my ears trying to find where the voices were coming from, when I found them. They were coming from behind the wall, from the secret passageway that led to the king’s chambers.
I placed my ear to the wall. They were definitely arguing. I touched the stone wall and made the circle with my finger. The wall opened, revealing the dark tunnel behind it. A flame came to life as I held my arm out with an upturned palm. Stepping quietly and softly, I journeyed through the secret passageway until I could see the ending. I extinguished my flame so that no one would see the light in between the cracks.
I tiptoed closer to the wall, placed my ear against it, and listened to the conversation.
“I want her dead,” the queen said.
I pulled my ear away from the wall. Who could the queen want dead?
I placed my ear against the wall once more.
“I don’t want to kill her. Besides she is Alora’s chamber maiden. That won’t sit well with her,” the king said.
I covered my mouth, silencing a gasp that tried to escape. The queen wanted Neala dead.
“Chamber maidens are easily replaced,” the queen answered him. “You still desire her, don’t you?”
The king didn’t answer.
“I know you do. I see the way you look at her. How am I supposed to stand at your side while you embarrass yourself by ogling her? Other chamber maidens can see it. I’m sure they gossip about it. I can’t live like this. She must die!”
“My queen, please.”
“She must!”
“Alora will not be pleased.”
“Do you desire Alora?”
“Nay.”
“Then what does it matter?”
“She is my first knight. My wizard.”
“Aye. ‘Your’ first knight. She is ‘your’ wizard. She will do as she is told, just like all the rest. You are king and I am queen. They are nothing!”
The king didn’t say anything.
When the queen spoke again, her voice was gentle and comforting. “Husband, do you love me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then drink.”
I waited intently with my ear pressed against the wall, guessing at what would happen next.
The queen spoke again with a relaxed and loving voice. “If you truly love me. If I am truly your queen, then you will do this for me.” Her voice turned hard and sinister. “Execute Neala!”
The king was silent. When he finally spoke, the words struck me like an arrow through my heart. “As you wish. I will see to it in the morning.”
I jumped back from the wall and stared at it in disbelief. The queen had used her sorcery on the king once more. I pictured the king on the other side of the wall sipping his “elixir” and losing his will to disagree with Queen Rosaleen. I leaned against the wall to my right and slid down. Sitting on the dust covered secret passageway with my knees against my chest, I began to rock back and forth. Neala was my friend, my best friend in the whole realm, and she was going to be executed in the morning because of the queen’s rampant jealousy.
I sat in the dark passageway for what felt like half an eternity. The dim light shining through the crack from the king’s chambers had long been extinguished. Silence was all that I heard. The only distraction were my thoughts of how to save Neala.
My mind continued hatching the plan and when it was complete, I rose to my feet and tiptoed back to my workshop, feeling my way against the wall in order to avoid casting any sort of light.
With the secret entrance closing behind me, I prepared for the next step in my workshop. I could never get used to calling it mine. And now I wondered, if it was ever meant to be mine.
I retrieved the piece of parchment Silas had left from my sleep shirt’s pocket, picked up Agbavitor’s huge wizard’s book, and then said the magic words that moved the wizard’s closet; revealing the stairs that led down to Agbavitor’s secret room. As gently and quietly as I could, I placed the book on the table next to the comfortable chair and pulled out his journals looking for the ones Silas had written down.
I located the first one and read what Agbavitor had written...
Remi is still obsesse
d with finding the Emerald of Kali. He believes what I do not. While the emerald does have the power to restore a wizard’s magic, Remi doesn’t meet the qualifications. Every wizard and sorceress I’ve discussed this with says the same thing: Remi killed a young one on purpose. Had it been by accident, then he might’ve been able to get his powers back. But it wasn’t an accident.
I continually regret what Remi gave up to protect me from those other boys. I sit at his side, a promise I made to him that day, that I would always protect him no matter what the penalty.
I searched for the next entry Silas had written down...
Ser Henry, one of Remi’s best knights found the Emerald of Kali. When word reached Remi, he sent for Ser Henry immediately. But Ser Henry wouldn’t divulge the location of the emerald. Ser Henry believed the king would use it’s power to strengthen his grasp on the realm.
While I would never say so, I believe Ser Henry was right. Remi did not take this lightly and executed him for treason. It was a shame, because Ser Henry had a family. A wife and a young daughter who I believe had the same color hair as his —the color of fire.
King Remi executed my father because of the emerald, but we were told he died in battle. I read on...
Remi has changed. He has grown mad with power lately. I attribute it to his new queen. Queen Rosaleen has him drinking an elixir that I am not comfortable with. Whenever I ask her for the recipe, she evades my request and gets Remi to send me away. I do not trust her.
I moved on to the next passage...
Remi is determined to destroy my apprentice. He takes his turning against us as a personal betrayal and I do not for the life of me understand why my apprentice would betray the kingdom—or me. He is a good lad and has always obeyed me and Remi.
Remi’s plan is an excellent one. One that I wish I didn’t have to go along with. He has decided to call for volunteers for his army, but the volunteers will be young ones. Young ones between the ages of fifteen and seventeen seasons. I will train them in basic magic, making them a more formidable opponent and send them into battle.