by CW Thomas
She looked up at him. “Really?”
“I looked for you when we left. I just wanted to say goodbye, but I couldn’t find you. I thought… I thought you didn’t want to see me.”
“I did want to see you. I wanted to be with you. That’s why I hid in the wagon. I knew Khalous would be angry when he found out, but I thought once we got on the journey he would have no choice but to let me come along.”
“Just how long were you planning to hide in there?”
She shrugged. “Until we reached our destination I supposed, but I got so hungry.”
Brayden smiled as much as he could with his injured face. Imagining Nairnah trying to remain hidden for so long without food or water or a secluded place to pee, was amusing.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nairnah, it’s going to take more than a whole moon to get there.”
She put a hand to her head. “Oh my.”
He chuckled. “Never mind. What’s done is done.”
Having her little body next to him was so warm and so thrilling. He pulled her in tighter, wanting more.
“Brayden?” she asked. “When will I see you again?”
He thought for a moment. “Maybe not for a long time. Khalous is taking us to Thalmia, the capital of Advala. It’s in the southernmost area of the region. He says he has a friend there who knows the Kriegellians.”
“The who?”
“The Kriegellians. They’re Fellian outcasts,” he explained.
“What’s a Fellian?”
Brayden was surprised she didn’t know, but reminded himself that she was the daughter of a humble wagon builder and seamstress. Few people outside the royal family and of non-noble birth had any knowledge of the worlds beyond Edhen.
“A Fellian is a person from Krebberfall,” Brayden said. “You’ll also hear them called Krebbers, but that’s not a respectful term. Don’t say it. In fact, I probably shouldn’t have even told you.”
“So why were the Kraig… the Kraig–lians… What are they called again?”
“The Kriegellians.”
“Why were they outcast from Krebberfall?”
“They started mixing magic into their combat, and magic is strictly forbidden on Krebberfall.”
“Why?”
“I don’t really know, but they say Kriegellians are unmatched. Their magic, their swords, the way they fight, is unstoppable. If they’ll train us we’ll have abilities beyond anything in the Black King’s army. We’ll be able to go back to Edhen and take back our home.”
“What do you mean if they’ll train you?”
“That’s the problem. They don’t always accept outsiders, and, admittedly, there’s a chance they’re not even real. Until Khalous told us about them, I had always thought they were just a legend in a tale I once heard.” He looked over his shoulder toward the road where, somewhere, the giant corpse of a freshly killed mountain troll lay facedown in the dirt. “Then again, legends seem to be coming true lately.”
“I like to think there’s always some truth in a legend,” Nairnah said. “My mother believed in the guardian spirit of the Allgod. She even believed, like the legend says, that he once took the body of an enorbear and walked the land to commune with the people. My father never believed in such things, and I didn’t either until on the day we buried my mother I saw an enorbear standing on the hill looking down on her grave. Not a tame one, but a wild one. A real one.”
“I’m sorry,” Brayden said. “I thought your mother died with your father during the siege.”
Nairnah shook her head. “When my baby brother died after he was born, mother slowly went mad with grief until she… Well, father said the grief just killed her.” She looked up at him, her eyes moist and flickering with the distant light of the campfire. “Please come back. You’re all I have left, Brayden.”
“Don’t say that,” he said. “You have Ariella back at the monastery, and—”
“No, I mean from before.” She sniffled, taking a moment to compose herself. “I lost everyone when we left Aberdour. There was nobody I knew, except you. You were the only person I recognized. I don’t want you to go away.”
“A part of me wishes I didn’t have to,” he said.
“Only a part of you?”
“If there’s a chance that we can return to Aberdour and rescue our friends, my sisters, I have to take it.”
She nodded and said she understood, but it was clear her grief was unassuaged.
Brayden slid off the rock and knelt in front of her so he could look her square in the face. “Nairnah, I want you to do something. When you get back to the monastery, help them. I’ve seen you with the children there. I’ve seen you working in the garden. You have a compassionate heart. Take that gift and use it while you can. I will come back for you, but don’t sit idly by waiting for me. Use your gifts. All right?”
“I will, my lord.”
Brayden noticed that the conversations around the campfire had all but ceased and many of the boys were now snoring away on their mats.
He led Nairnah back to the fire where he added a few more logs to brighten the blaze. He stretched out a blanket for her and bundled her in several others. He lay down behind her on his good side and wrapped his injured arm around her. It was intoxicating to hold her so close.
“Get some sleep, Nairnah,” he whispered. “We both have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”
He wanted to kiss her, but he was too afraid. Even the following morning when he saw her with Pick getting ready to set out, he imagined walking over to her and kissing her on the lips. But, again, his fears inhibited him.
Khalous stomped past him on his way toward Pick. The captain still looked grumpy. His face was pale with dark bags under his eyes.
Nairnah dipped her head toward him as he neared. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she said. “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”
“Well you did,” Khalous replied. “When you get back to Halus Gis, I want you to stay there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Khalous looked at Pick. “I want you to stay there as well.”
Pick’s brows flattened. “Sir?”
“Look after Ariella, Dana and the others. I aim to be back in two moons. I’ll see you then.”
Brayden could tell that Pick thought the command was an odd one. The young soldier eyed his captain for a moment or two and then gave an accepting nod of his head. “Until we meet again then.”
Their arms clasped and they cuffed each other on opposite shoulders.
Brayden went to Nairnah, his heart burdened with the uncertainty of when they would see each other next.
“At least you’ll eat good tonight,” he said, trying to make light of the situation.
“I’ll miss you,” Nairnah said.
“And I you.”
Watching from the dying ashes of the campfire were Nash and Broderick who sniggered until Stoneman shut them up.
“I believe in what you’re doing,” Nairnah said. “I will pray to the Allgod for your safety.”
Her words touched his heart more than he expected.
And then, to his surprise, she stepped forward and kissed him. Not a peck on the cheek, or a blessing on the forehead like the nuns of Halus Gis would’ve done, but a kiss on his lips, sweet and moist. He didn’t think to kiss her back until she had already pulled away, and by that time it was too late.
SCARLETT
Scarlett scribbled a single word on her chalkboard. Feeling as though it wasn’t strong enough on it’s own she added an exclamation mark, and then drew a circle around it, and then several more for good measure. She flipped the board around for Aamor to see.
No!
The young woman glanced at it, frowned, and shook her head. “I’m afraid you don’t have much choice in the matter, love.”
She bunched up the bedding from Scarlett’s mattress and tossed it into a large straw basket. Scarlett had never before seen the young maid act so irritated and d
istraught.
She scribbled another phrase on her blackboard. I want to stay here!
“The queen wants you in your own room, so that’s what I have to do,” Aamor said. “You’re getting older, love. You’ll be nine soon. It’s not appropriate for you to share Tristian’s room anymore. When he’s married he’s not going to want you in here with him and… and… that woman.” She snapped a pillowcase and began folding it.
Scarlett wrote another word on her board.
“Why?” Aamor said. “Because there are things that a husband and wife need to do on their wedding night, and, um, Tristian and Lady Arrahbella…” Her folding slowed to a stop. She stood there for a moment staring at the bare mattress, the half folded pillowcase limp in her hands. Scarlett watched as Aamor sat down on the bed and brought the pillowcase up to hide her eyes. Her tears were masked, but Scarlett could still see her sobs.
Aamor’s feelings for the crippled prince had gone unnoticed by everyone, including Tristian, but not Scarlett. It was no secret to her that Aamor was in love with him, and Scarlett had inklings that Tristian loved her in return. But the relationship wasn’t appropriate. Even Aamor knew that. Servants did not become involved with members of the royal family.
Scarlett walked over to the bed and wrapped her arms around Aamor’s waist. The young woman offered an appreciative moan, and stroked Scarlett’s hair as she wiped away her tears.
“I’m a silly girl, aren’t I?” she said. “What chance did I ever have with a prince of Tay? Lady Arrahbella is an honorable woman. I should be happy for him.”
Scarlett offered Aamor a comforting smile, hoping it would make up for her bad attitude that had permeated the morning. It wasn’t the maidservant’s fault that she was being forced out of Tristian’s bedchambers. Neither of them had much say in the matter.
Scarlett hated the idea of leaving Tristian alone, especially with his new bride. Princess Arrahbella fi Cipio was indeed a fine young lady, but she was almost too fine. Scarlett didn’t like the way she always appeared so flawless.
Scarlett scribbled on her chalkboard, I don’t trust her.
“Lady Arrahbella? Why not?”
She thought for a moment, and then wrote, She’s a Buttonhead.
Aamor wrinkled her face. “Buttonhead? The jester? He’s just an actor.”
Precisely.
“I didn’t even know you could spell that word.”
A female servant from the kitchen staff hurried into the room. “Aamor, Lady Catherina is asking for you. She wants you downstairs at the party.”
“But she sent me up here to finish moving Red’s things.”
“I guess she changed her mind.” The young woman left the room.
“Very well.” Aamor got up, her reddish brown ponytail swishing against her neck. She clicked her tongue, thinking. “Curse that bloody woman. What does she think she’s—” Aamor suddenly covered her mouth. “Oh! I shouldn’t say such things about the queen.”
Scarlett grinned and shrugged. She didn’t care. If she had a voice she’d be saying such things all day.
“If you ask me, and I’m sure you would, I think she changes her mind just to make us angry,” Aamor whispered.
Scarlett couldn’t agree more. Lady Catherina was known for her dramatic mood swings. Many assumed it was the result of her fraying mental health, but others, like Scarlett, supposed she did it for fun. The queen was like a cat in that regard that viewed those under her as mice to be played with.
“Let’s get down to the Hall,” Aamor said. She gestured toward Scarlett’s beautiful purple gown. “You didn’t get all dressed up just to hang around with me, did you? You should go be with the people. I hear there will be dancing.”
Scarlett’s eyes widened and she nodded with excitement. She, of course, knew about the dancing already. She had been looking forward to it for weeks.
Scarlett tucked her small blackboard into a pouch in the front of her gown. The pocket had been sown into the pleats at Tristian’s request to make it easier for Scarlett to carry her board with her. She had more than a dozen dresses with such pockets, as well as many with white cuffs or tippets for dry erasing.
“Tristian said you’ve been enjoying your dance lessons,” Aamor said as they left the room. “You’re very lucky you know. Not many girls get such opportunities.” Scarlett thought she detected a hint of sadness in Aamor’s tone.
She skipped alongside the young maidservant as they made their way downstairs to the State Hall. The cavernous room sat under a resplendent white dome in the very center of the castle. As they neared, Scarlett could smell the aroma of flowers, ladies’ perfume, and seasoned meats. The sounds of music and frivolity from within made her spirits bubble.
“Have you seen the high king’s emissary yet?” Aamor asked in a hushed voice as they approached the entrance to the Hall.
Scarlett shook her head that she had not.
“I do not look forward to meeting him. I hear he’s rather… strange.”
Orange torchlight bathed the State Hall. Long green palm branches and massive clusters of cut flowers hung from leafy vines all around the room. Hundreds of people had filled the Hall. Most sat at one of the many long banquet tables indulging in the royal smorgasbord of choice foods and wine. Others had formed a circle around a large dance floor that was occupied with dozens of people. Feet tapped and dresses swayed to the hand-clapping beat of a fast tune played by a flutist and a man with a tambourine.
The king and queen had spared no expense in their preparations to entertain the high king’s emissary. Scarlett had yet to hear his name, but his reputation was one that generated either respect or fear depending on who she asked.
“Over there,” Aamor said. She gestured with her chin toward the dais against the south wall upon which sat King Dagart’s throne. His seat had been pushed back to make room for a long rectangular feasting table, which was draped with a white cloth and covered with a variety of warm and glistening foods—chicken and rabbit meat in an almond gravy, glazed white bread, garlic and egg pottages, citrus fruits imported from Perth, and a variety of expensive figs, raisins, dates and prunes.
King Dagart Elle sat at the middle of the table facing the room, his gold crown topping off a ceremonial outfit of green and black. His queen, Catherina, was on his right. The orange glow of the firelight made her pale skin look warm and robust. She wore an ivory gown with a raised pattern of curly designs and flowers that accentuated her trim neck and shoulders. Next to the queen were empty chairs for the princes, Taggart and Tristian.
To the king’s left sat the emissary of High King Orkrash Maul, a lean man with slick black hair who Scarlett recognized immediately. The sight of him chilled her bones.
“That must be him,” Aamor said. “He does look strange, doesn’t he?”
Scarlett’s mind filled with unwelcome memories as she took in the unforgettable face of Ustus Rapere.
“I hear they call him the Ivy of Edhen,” Aamor whispered. “But I don’t know why.”
Next to Ustus sat Demulier Congrave, the wild-eyed woman who had accompanied him that day in the market plaza of Perth. She was as chilling then as she was now, with green catlike eyes that never seemed to blink, and a lithe frame that exuded sensuality and power. Scarlett remembered her like they had met yesterday, and she trembled with the memory of Demulier and Ustus dragging her sister away into the dark hallways of a brothel. Scarlett was sold to Prince Taggart that day, a day that had changed her life.
“Oh, my Lord Tristian!” Aamor exclaimed.
Scarlett was surprised that she hadn’t noticed the prince sooner. He stood just to her left dressed in his royal best, a long navy coat made of velvet with gold trim that shimmered in the light. His long black hair had been pulled away from his handsome face and ran down to the nape of his neck.
“I’m glad you both could make it this evening,” he said, leaning on a cane to support his deformed leg. In his free hand he swirled a silver chalice of wine. He took
a sip and then regarded the cup with satisfaction. “Father has pulled out the good stuff tonight.” He looked down at Scarlett. “Are you all right, Red?”
The sight of Ustus must have shaken her more than she realized. Scarlett swallowed back the uneasiness in her stomach and gave Tristian a nod.
“I’ve never seen this many people here before,” Aamor said, stepping closer to Tristian.
“Nor I,” he said, “which makes me suspect that many of them were paid to attend.”
Or threatened, Scarlett thought.
Aamor playfully swatted him on the arm. “Careful what you say, my lord.”
He finished his wine and passed the chalice to a nearby manservant. “Or what? Do you think my father would have me hanged?”
No, but Catherina would.
Aamor looked aghast. “I certainly hope not! I only fear one of the guests might overhear you.”
Tristian sighed. “You’re right, as usual. It would be a shame if one of these arrogant nobles groveling at my family’s table were found to be insincere.”
Aamor stifled a giggle and tried to hide her reddening face.
Tristian chuckled. “And now I’ve embarrassed you.”
“Well, normally I wouldn’t mind, but you know I snort when I get to laughing.”
With a chuckle, Tristian said, “I rather think a little snorting could liven up this affair, don’t you?”
Some nobles at a nearby table turned and cast annoyed glances toward the prince.
Aamor started tittering and covered her mouth.
Scarlett smiled while she watched them. Seeing them both so close together sent her imagination running. She pretended there was no propriety between them, that they were common peasants, perhaps owners of a humble cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom. He wasn’t a prince, and she wasn’t a servant. They were even, perhaps, in love.
Scarlett reached out, took their hands and clasped them together. She imagined, for a moment, that they were husband and wife, and that she was perhaps their—