The Secret Slipper

by Amanda Tero

  “I have but one minute to stay, so talk fast.”

  “Nay, you talk fast.” Lia’s eyes finally adjusted so she could see Noel’s features. “When am I to die?”

  Noel stepped back. “Lia…do you know Bioti’s destination?”

  “Nay. She didn’t say. Just…left.” She studied Noel’s face. “You didn’t answer me.”

  Noel shook his head. “Eat up. You will need your strength.” What kind of an answer was that?

  “Noel!”

  The lad stepped back into the blinding light. “If I tarry, I shall be punished.” The door slammed shut, cloaking the dungeon in darkness.

  How did he expect her to eat after that exchange? Mayhap he didn’t truly want her to eat, but wanted to punish her. Her fingers found the tray of food. Dry bread. Her throat constricted. Prisoners’ fare. No fresh apple for her. She touched a metal cup. The least she could manage was to ease her thirst from the long night. She emptied the cup and placed it back on the tray.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Zuzene asked.

  Lia pushed the tray toward her. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You are worried.”

  To deny it would be a lie that Zuzene could see straight through.

  “Lia, whatever is going to happen, you must turn to Christ. Whether it is to live down here a decade or die today, His grace will see you through.”

  Lia curled into a ball, fighting against the shivers that pulsed through her body. She wasn’t sure she was ready to do that. She just wanted everything to stop—the pain, the turmoil, the confusion, the injustice.

  The lock in the door turned. If it were possible, Lia’s stomach did a complete flip. Their breakfast had been brought. There was no other reason for an intrusion, unless it was to bring her to her death.

  “Lia.”

  She recognized the soft voice as Dumphey’s.

  The door closed again. Steady footsteps walked forward and stopped before her. Given the rustle of clothes, Dumphey must have knelt down.

  Lia couldn’t look at him, illuminated by the candle he held. Instead, she studied the cracks in the wall, caked with mud. How long had this place been here? And where did that thought come from?

  “Lia, you must tell me. Where is Bioti?”

  “I know not.” She couldn’t make herself speak louder than a murmur.

  “Lia.” The light shifted upwards and Dumphey shook her. “This is the last way I could save you—you must tell me.”

  “I know not!” A single sob ripped from Lia’s chest. “If I knew, I would have told Noel.” She turned to him, reading sorrow in his face. “Trust me, Dumphey. You must.”

  Dumphey groaned and leaned back on his heels. “ʻTis injustice.” His voice was low. “Yet I know not what to do.”

  Lia sat up. “They really will hang me?” She wasn’t sure the words reached Dumphey, they felt so light and airy.

  “In the sheriff’s eyes, all evidence points to you—”

  “But you believe I didn’t do it.”

  Dumphey looked away. “Bioti and her daughters are missing, but Sheriff Feroci refuses to send a search party.”

  “The horse and cart are returned. Is that not enough? He could simply let me rot down here!”

  “You know he’s the law.” Why did Dumphey have to say it so gravely?

  The chills turned into sobs. Chains rustled then rough arms wrapped around her. Zuzene’s voice droned nearby, in her ear. Comforting her, reprimanding Dumphey, then saying nothing at all. It must have been her gentle hand that caressed Lia’s tangled hair as Lia fought away the tears. Finally, all was still.

  “There, there…” Zuzene’s voice hummed low, like a faraway memory of a lullaby. If only she could add words of comfort, to tell Lia that Dumphey was lying. But Lia knew she wouldn’t. If Zuzene had spoken anything in the few hours she’d known her, it was the truth.

  “Lia, I—”

  “Dumphey,” Zuzene interrupted his soft voice. “I think you have said enough. I’ll care for her. Go along, do what you can. And if anything happens, you need not blame yourself.”

  Blame himself? Through her tears, Lia watched as Dumphey and the light disappeared back through the door. How well did Zuzene know these lads? She blinked back her tears. That was not of any importance when she stood at death′s door.

  Zuzene’s hand slowed. “Death is not a frightful thing if you know the One to Whom you’ll go.”

  “I don’t.” Even heaven wouldn’t accept a deformed outcast like her.

  “Have you thought on what I said last night?”

  Nay, she had blocked out as many words as she could. This was not her last day of living. It couldn’t be!

  “Lia.” Zuzene placed a hand on each of Lia’s shoulders. “I cannot force you to accept Jesus Christ, and neither does He. Yet I can guarantee you that He wants you to come. He is not willing for any to perish, but that all should come to repentance.”

  “Then why an early death?” It seemed a fitting end to her life: injustice coming on the tail of slavery and pain.

  “I haven’t an answer for that, but I can point you to the One Who knows all.”

  Lia’s shoulders fell. Whatever was left of her broken life, it wouldn’t hurt to listen to what Zuzene had to say.

  “Things in this world will never be fair, as long as men and women do not love God. But life isn’t about today or even about tomorrow. Life is about eternity. When God created the world, I believe He intended for us all to live with Him eternally. But sin entered into the world. And with sin, came death and separation from God.”

  Aye, she felt the pain of both death and separation.

  “I am just as much a sinner as you…or Bioti, or the sheriff. When it comes to God’s eyes, we are all equal. Either we are lost sinners or redeemed sinners. The difference comes by whether or not we accept Christ’s gift of salvation—which He has freely offered to all of us.”

  “What sin did I commit to be born a cripple?” Lia asked, cynicism again creeping into her voice.

  “Ah, Jesus was asked a similar question when He was on earth. A man was born blind, and everyone wondered who had sinned: him or his parents? Jesus Himself said that it was neither, but that this man was born blind so that men could see the glory of God. Jesus healed him and made him see. But greater than that, this man believed that Jesus is the Son of God and was saved. That was the greater healing.”

  Silence dropped between them for a moment, then Zuzene spoke again, “Lia, the question is not about the deformity of your body but about the deformity of your soul.”

  Lia’s hand reached down to massage her foot, sending spasms of pain up her leg. She had learned ages ago that she couldn’t hide her limp, but the many things she did strive to hide—bitterness, anger, unforgiveness—swarmed before her. Things that, considering what little she knew of God’s righteousness, did not please Him. This was what separated her from God, and this is what Jesus Christ died for.

  She would always be a cripple, but a choice dangled before her—a choice that, if she accepted, would allow her to limp to death as what Zuzene called a

  redeemed sinner.

  “I think I want Jesus to cleanse my heart,” she said, tears starting again. This time, they were not tears of fear.

  Abtshire

  “I thought we were to meet at noon,” Jolin said. He had likely been waiting for a half hour.

  Raoul grabbed Jolin’s arm and led him away from the town center, where the townspeople were milling in thick clusters. “I need to speak with you privately. Have you seen Galien?”

  “Nay…” Jolin gave Raoul a searching look as he matched Raoul’s long stride. “He was supposed to meet us here as well.”

  “Yet he did not.” Raoul didn’t stop walking until they entered The Lyre Inn. He pushed the door of his room shut and leaned against the wall. The stiffness of it pressing his back made him aware of just how hard his heart was pounding. “I ran across a lad who says Galien talked with Bioti
. Yet Bioti left days ago.”

  “You trust this lad?”

  “I saw Galien pay a man for information.”

  “And…?”

  Raoul scowled at Jolin. “I have heard nothing from him of the matter.”

  “You doubt Galien?”

  Raoul leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes. “I know not what to think.” How could he explain it? Jolin hadn’t talked with Noel nor seen his honesty as he had given Raoul his suspicions of Galien conversing with Bioti. In halted words, he shared those details with Jolin.

  When Raoul opened his eyes again, Jolin had his hand on his chin, his blue eyes looking off into the distance. Raoul knew he was thinking through every aspect, pulling together details like only his mind could. Mayhap he could pull together something out of Raoul’s confusion.

  Jolin looked at Raoul, but the way his brows furrowed gave Raoul no encouragement.

  “Noel says—”

  The door opened and Galien entered. Raoul’s body tensed, but Jolin’s low soft voice indicated nothing as he asked, “Have you found any leads?”

  Galien shook his head. “Nay. No one is willing to say anything.”

  “You were saying, m’lord?” Jolin’s eyes warned Raoul against jumping to conclusions against Galien.

  Raoul sighed. “Noel says there is only one friend who would know of Bioti’s destination, but she is a thief and will hang before the morrow.”

  “Is there a way we could question her?” Jolin asked.

  “Noel said no visitors are allowed. Unless I could somehow make a deal with Feroci and this prisoner…”

  Jolin sniffed. “The man’s reputation is notorious.”

  “And the prisoner a thief,” Galien pointed out. "Would you release a thief?”

  There was nothing to reply. Father, show me the way. It looks clouded again.

  Go.

  The answer pressed itself inside Raoul’s heart. His fingers tightened into a ball. What would he say to Feroci when they met? His rank held little power in another lord’s realm, and he doubted King Jarin would get involved.

  Go.

  Raoul turned and placed a hand on the door.

  “What are you doing?” Galien asked.

  “I’m going.” The urge to do so quickly built pressure inside him. “You may follow if you desire.” He swung open the door and rushed outside.

  A crowd had gathered on the opposite side of the village. If that was where the thief was to be hung, there wasn’t much time. Feroci must have changed his mind and ordered the hanging sooner. If Raoul didn’t have adequate time to speak with Feroci or the prisoner…

  Lean not unto thine own understanding.

  Raoul slowed to a walk as the crowd became denser. If this was not the way God intended him to find Ellia, He would make another way, if it was His will.

  At the edge of the crowd, Raoul came to a full stop. He clambered onto a barrel and looked over the heads of the townspeople. On the other end, a man sat astride his horse. He must be the sheriff. If Raoul could weave around the people, he might have a chance to speak with Feroci…if the man would acknowledge him, dressed as a commoner. Bury propriety! He shouldn’t have to bring robes everywhere he went.

  A hush fell over the crowd. A man stood on the gallows, scroll in hand.

  “Today, we give example of how the law tolerates thieves, be them old or young, male or female.” His harsh voice snapped out the words as he looked over the crowd. “Bring the child here.”

  Child? Raoul’s stomach cinched as he looked at where the crowd parted. Noel and another lad stood on either side of a lass, not even of age. The law didn’t allow children to endure such punishment untried, he was certain.

  “I should like to walk alone.” The lass’s voice rang over the silent crowd.

  The lads stepped aside as the lass walked forward. Her gait hitched as she walked forward—probably due to nervous anticipation. But the next step was just as stilted. And the next.

  Raoul leaned forward. Her face looked familiar. She was the same lass he had run into days before. The one whose eyes were filled with worry and turmoil.

  Whispered voices fluttered through the crowd. “It’s the cripple.”

  The cripple? Raoul snapped his focus back to the lass. She limped forward, her eyes filled with calm serenity, peace, and…

  “Stop!” Raoul leapt off the barrel and shoved his way through the crowd, pushing people out of the way as he rushed forward.

  The lass limped to the foot of the steps. She met the gaze of the man above.

  Raoul dodged between two men. The lass was making her way up the steps. She pushed aside Noel, who had reached forward to offer assistance. She reached the top. The soldiers grabbed her and pulled her forward.

  Raoul raced to the stairs.

  “Stop him!” a husky voice snarled.

  He was pulled back to the ground and seized by the guards.

  A hood was slipped over the lass’s head.

  “Stop!” Raoul fought against the hand that held him. “In the name of King Jarin, I command you to stop.”

  That did nothing to appease the men holding him.

  “Have we a madman afoot?” The smooth, rich voice thundered above him.

  Raoul lifted his head to glare at Sheriff Feroci. “A madman I am not. If you would release me, I could prove I am the lord of Kiralyn.” He glared at the guards.

  “This is not your province.”

  “Nay, but the law of the land does not permit you to hang a child.” Raoul tore away from his captors and thrust his hand under Feroci’s nose. “Identify the seal.”

  Feroci’s jaw ticked. “Do you demand the release of a thief who attempted to steal one of my finest horses and a cart full of goods?”

  “I will repay anything that was damaged.”

  “On what grounds?” Feroci glared at him.

  Raoul met the glare with confidence. “She is my daughter.”

  Abtshire

  His daughter? Lia struggled to turn around, to slip the hood off her head, but Feroci’s man, Barat, kept a vice-grip on her. ‘Twas impossible. Her father had died.

  “Any man could claim that to save the life of a thief,” Sheriff Feroci growled.

  “Nay, I assure you. I have proof.”

  “The child has been in our village for years. What proof can you offer that she is daughter to a lord?”

  The man fell silent. The daughter of a lord? Bless him for trying, but Lia knew it was impossible. He must be a kindhearted man, but tension built in her chest as she envisioned the rope hanging, mere inches away. My God, I need your help. Calm peace washed over her again.

  “Aye, if she is willing, I can prove it.”

  He wouldn’t give up easily. Gratitude swelled in Lia’s heart toward this stranger. If only she could see who was speaking.

  “Bring her to my abode,” Sheriff Feroci said, his voice sounding strained. A horse moved, apparently bringing the sheriff with it.

  Barat released something like a growl and the hood was slipped from her head.

  “Don’t untie her.”

  Lia looked from Barat to Dumphey, who was casting away the hood.

  The soldiers half-dragged her down the street. Her whole body was numb as her mind raced forward. If this is Lord Kiralyn and if he is my father… How could she discern what was true between Bioti’s story and this man? Why is he only now coming to see me? If he truly is my father, why was I in Bioti’s care all of these years? Did he know this? Her breath came in short intervals as she was brought into the sheriff’s home. Sheriff Feroci was now on a chair that overlooked the room, surrounded by guards.

  “Now, state your cause.”

  Lia looked at the man who stepped forward, his focus not on the sheriff, but on her. He was dressed as a commoner. No wonder Sheriff Feroci doubted his lordship. As their gaze met, Lia’s breath caught. This was the same man she had run into days before. He was Lord Kiralyn? Did he know who she was when they collided?


  “Lass, I saw you limping.”

  Lia expected heat to flame through her cheeks. Instead, she only felt a tinge of warmth. “Aye.”

  “Have you a club foot?”

  Not just an injury, not just a limp, but specifically a club foot? Lia’s pulse quickened. “Aye.”

  “Of course she would claim she did if it would save her life!” Sheriff Feroci stomped his foot, causing Barat to take a step toward her.

  Lord Kiralyn looked to the sheriff, a hint of amusement touching his features. “Aye, she could claim it. But I’m asking her to prove it.”

  Prove it? The heat that hadn’t flushed her face earlier now flooded her cheeks, making her head pound. Yet if it saved her life…

  “I know not how it would look now.” Grief seemed to flash through Lord Kiralyn’s eyes as he looked at her. “When you were born, it was sideways. The physician said it would get worse with time.” He turned to talk to Sheriff Feroci again. “A plague struck my castle while I was away in battle. I was welcomed home by two graves—those of my wife and young daughter. I only recently discovered that two servants conspired together to take away my daughter—Bioti and Nes.”

  Lia’s mouth went dry. Did this mean, then, that Bioti was never married to her father? Tears blurred her vision. He sounded so confident that she was the same lass. But how would she know that he was her father? How did he know that she was his daughter? She blinked the tears away. She wouldn’t cry in the audience of the sheriff.

  “Your story does not sway me,” Feroci said.

  Lord Kiralyn’s eyes narrowed. “ʻT’wasn’t my aim. I am asking her of her limp.”

  “Anyone could feign one.”

  “Nay. You saw her limp. The townspeople know she limps.” He turned back to Lia. “May we see?”

  Abtshire

  Raoul held his breath. He felt strangely confident, yet there was the slightest possibility he had misjudged, in which case Feroci would dub him a liar, and mayhap desire to hang him as well as the lass.

  He waited while the lass—Ellia, he was certain of it—hesitated before lifting her skirt. Her face was bathed in red as she slipped her foot into sight. Though she held it in front of her, it twisted completely sideways. No child could feign that.