Talon the Black

by Melissa Mitchell

  “Desaree! There you are.” She jumped at the sound of Tess’s impatience. Tess was the head lady. She managed all the servants from the cookery to the castle’s chambers, and could most often be found within the cookery. Most importantly though, Tess was like a mother to Desaree.

  “Come now, m’dear! Do not keep me waiting,” said Tess, waving her famous wooden spoon. Desaree rushed to her side. It was common knowledge that one never ought to keep Tess waiting, nor get on her bad side, or else suffer the consequences. And although Tess was a kindly woman, her wrath was terrible.

  At that very moment, trays were being assembled and loaded with the contents of the morning’s breakfast: porridge, spiced bread, butter, cheese, apples, and pots of honey. The keep’s more prominent nobles often took their morning meal within the privacy of their chambers. Those nobles of lower birth generally could not afford such lavish indulgences, so they took their meals in the dining hall. As of recently, however, given the state of things, many were willing to pay the price for the privacy of their accommodations.

  News spread through the capital like dragon fire—Lord Cyrus was dead. Rumors had taken form in a ridiculous manner, as they often did when few knew the truth. Many speculated about Cyrus, his death, and about the mystery girl who had come to Dragonwall with the king’s own Shields. None fueled these fires more than the servants of the keep. Her kind overheard plenty of gossip while they attended to their duties.

  Preparations for the impending funeral were in full swing. Food stores were under intense scrutiny as every apple, potato, and carrot was inventoried. Candle sticks were taken from storage, dusted of their cobwebs, and polished to their full brilliance. Guest rooms were to be readied today and tomorrow in anticipation of visitors who traveled from afar. Many wished to pay their respects. The servants would all be busy for days to come.

  Desaree’s morning duties included breakfast deliveries to the grand apartments throughout the keep. She had a long list of other duties, but she liked this one the best. It was easy, a lot of walking to be sure, but she enjoyed that.

  As she nibbled on her buttered bread, Tess yammered off the names of those she would serve this morning, which were written upon a list. “This morning, you are to deliver breakfast to the Boyce’s, Sir Roly Daven, Lady Tania, Commander Daxton, and Lady Caterina.”

  Desaree chomped on her tongue. “Surely not Lady Caterina,” she said when she had regained her ability to speak.

  “You heard me correctly,” said Tess.

  Lady Caterina was Desaree’s least favorite person in the entire keep. In fact, Caterina was her least favorite person in the entire capital, or even the whole of Dragonwall. She despised Caterina because of her cruelty. To the rest of the world, Caterina was an angel, but Desaree saw right through her.

  “Tess,” she pleaded. “You know how she treats me. Why can she not send her handmaiden instead?”

  “Desaree, have we not been over this already, child? You cannot get out of your duty each and every time.” Tess paused to sigh. “Were it any other day, I would send someone else. Everyone is busy.” Then she leaned closer and added as more of a whisper, “Nobody else likes her either. Just do your best.”

  She had no other choice, so she gathered up the first tray for the morning—the tray going to the Boyce family—and left the kitchens. The first few deliveries were painless enough. It was always the same routine for each delivery: Tap on the door and announce your purpose. Place the tray on the occupant’s bedroom table. Set out the contents. Curtsey. Smile as much as possible. Then bid good day and leave.

  Some of the nobles were friendlier than others, especially Lady Tania, who also happened to be the biggest gossip in Kastali Dun. Lady Tania always knew the latest happenings. Nothing slipped past her perceptive ears.

  When it came time to deliver Lady Tania’s breakfast, she knocked at the lady’s door. “My lady, I have come with your breakfast.” A few moments later, Lady Tania was ushering her inside. Desaree noticed that she still wore a robe and nightclothes. The woman disliked handmaidens and favored her privacy. Her lack of assistance showed. Desaree followed her over to the table.

  “I was hoping it would be you,” Lady Tania said, “and not that dratted Nessle boy, or whatever they call him. He is so dull!”

  “Nestley,” Desaree said in a lighthearted manner.

  “Right. Dumb name. Would you mind helping me tidy up a few of my things? I would be more than happy to share my breakfast.” As she spoke, she winked at Desaree.

  The lower level servants rarely got enough to eat. Lady Tania often shared with her in exchange for a little tidying service. She was never one to turn down food. She began by opening the curtains and making the bed, moving quickly throughout, collecting the woman’s dirty clothes into a pile.

  “So what do you think about the girl everyone speaks of?” Lady Tania asked through a mouthful. She never missed an opportunity for chatter.

  “The golden-haired woman they are calling her. I do not yet know her name.” She had heard plenty about the mystery woman already—plenty of speculation. Everyone spoke of her, especially the serving staff, all of whom had formed an opinion.

  “No one knows her name yet, dear, but I mean, what do you think about it all? About her?” Lady Tania was so persistent. “I am told she is strikingly beautiful.”

  Desaree thought for a moment as she framed her answer. “Beautiful or not, many say she is guilty of a great crime.” By many, she meant the servants. She had yet to agree with them on this matter. A mere human girl capable of killing a Drengr? It was illogical.

  “Aye, they are all crying for justice.”

  “What do you think about it, Lady Tania?”

  “I think it is ridiculous if you ask me! A girl killing Lord Cyrus. But what do I know about these matters…” She stuffed more food between her chubby cheeks. “I am merely a woman after all. We poor women, no one takes us seriously.”

  Desaree stood watching her, happy that Lady Tania was of the same opinion as her.

  “Come dear girl. Eat,” she said when she discovered Desaree’s watchful eyes.

  They spent a short while eating and speculating about what had happened to Lord Cyrus, as well as what would happen to the strange golden-haired woman when she arrived in Kastali Dun. Desaree was certain that as an outsider, the woman would be killed. “They will want retribution,” she said. People always wanted a scapegoat—someone to blame.

  “Nonsense girl,” Lady Tania said. “The king is smart. He will deal fairly with the situation, especially if the lass is innocent.”

  Desaree did not know much about King Talon, but what she did know, and what she had seen, scared her. Despite never having interacted with Dragonwall’s ruler, she had heard enough from the other servants to know that it was better to avoid him.

  “How do we know that this woman is innocent, my lady? She is from beyond the Gate, so no one knows what she is capable of.”

  “You make a good point. Perhaps she has powers unknown to us.” Lady Tania set her napkin down on the platter then continued. “I am simply happy to have something new and exciting to talk about. Surely you are likewise? Life has been rather boring.” The woman gave a big yawn and stretched.

  “Thank you for the breakfast, Lady Tania, but I must be going. I have two deliveries left.” She was dreading Lady Caterina’s. It was her last for the morning, and she was anxious to get it over with.

  After delivering Commander Daxton’s breakfast, she rushed down to the cookery to grab the final tray—the dreaded final tray destined for Lady Caterina.

  Tess cornered her as she was leaving, waving her spoon as she spoke. “Wait a moment dearie!” Desaree stopped in her tracks and turned to face her. “There has been a late order. I need you to deliver one more when you are finished with Lady Caterina’s.” She motioned to the tray Desaree carried. “I have got one more over there to be delivered to Lord Verath. He will be taking breakfast in his chambers this morning.”
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  The contents on the tray nearly spilled to the ground as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She gave nearly the same reaction every time Lord Verath’s name was mentioned. Lord Verath was one of the king’s six Shields. Not only did she fancy him (secretly from afar), he was the last person she wanted to see after her impending visit with Caterina.

  Tess reached forward to ensure the tray wasn’t dropped. “You will be fine, child. Now hurry up!”

  Desaree made her way to the upper levels of the keep then tapped at Lady Caterina’s door. “My lady, your breakfast is here,” she called with an obvious shaky voice, lacking confidence. The door opened to Lady Caterina’s handmaiden who was quickly pushed aside as Lady Caterina herself came into view.

  There she stood, scowling at Desaree. “You!” she spat. “No wonder I have been waiting an eternity.” Her tone was hostile.

  “I am sorry, my lady, they put you at the end of my delivery list this morning.” It was not the best thing to say, she realized after it came out.

  “Excuse me? How dare you talk to me like that!” Red patches of anger appeared on Lady Caterina’s otherwise flawless skin. “Would you speak to a queen in such a manner?” Caterina’s eyes narrowed at her. “I bet you haven’t any idea, have you?”

  “Idea of what, my lady?”

  “That I will soon be your queen.”

  For a moment she stared blankly back at Caterina, struck dumb by the notion. Then her head began spinning. What was Caterina implying? Had the king asked for her hand? Never in a millennia would she have believed anyone could possibly desire this evil woman as a wife.

  Almost as if reading her thoughts Caterina said, “Well, it hasn’t yet been finalized. My father still awaits the king’s answer, but it is only a matter of time.” She barked a laugh. “I bet you never would have guessed it—how far I would rise. Well soon, I shall be all the way at the top. You always believed yourself superior to me when we were children. Well look at us now. You will be scrubbing floors for the rest of your life. Me? I shall be queen.” Caterina fell silent for the span of several heartbeats, then as if coming out of a dream, she looked down at the tray Desaree held, abruptly changing the subject.

  “Gods! Look at the state of my food. Did you throw my breakfast onto it?”

  She had forgotten to rearrange the tray’s contents after almost dropping it. “I apologize my lady.” Her voice quivered as she spoke, trying to control her anger and her fear. She was the only person in the world who knew what Caterina was capable of.

  “Hurry up then!” Lady Caterina grabbed her arm and dragged her into the room. Her fingers dug into Desaree’s flesh. She had to bite her tongue to stifle a cry of pain. She refused to let Lady Caterina know how it hurt.

  Lady Caterina continued her nastiness as she set out the woman’s breakfast. Caterina’s handmaiden, Seraphina, rushed forward to help at one point, but Caterina barked at her. “Desaree can do it herself. Do not help her!”

  Desaree’s hands were shaking so badly that she accidentally knocked over the small pot of honey.

  “You stupid idiot!” screeched Caterina. Stars swam in her vision as she felt the sting of Lady Caterina’s hand against the side of her face. The force was surprising for a woman of Caterina’s stature; then again, Caterina wasn’t merely a woman. She was training to be a Mage. She never understood why the gods had blessed a woman like her with magic.

  “I—I am sorry my lady,” she stammered, and quickly cleaned up the spilled honey. Backing away from the table, she separated herself as far as possible from the wretched woman.

  “Get out of my sight,” Caterina hissed. “And tell them to send someone else next time. I never want to see you in my chambers again.”

  Desaree escaped from the room. By the time she reached the kitchens, tears were streaming down her cheeks. She had to give herself a few minutes in the empty corridor to wipe her eyes before presenting herself to Tess for the last tray.

  “Child! What happened?” Tess grabbed her face with both hands. She could feel the bruise that was beginning to form around her cheekbone. “Has she ever hit you before?” Tess asked.

  Desaree shook her head, though that was a lie. Caterina had hit her many times when they were children.

  “Very well. I will send someone else next time.”

  She was given the last tray to deliver to Lord Verath. Shaking and still upset, she reached his door at last. This was not how she envisioned their first meeting, and it was true that she had imagined the event many times, but such a thing had never presented itself as it did now. It was so far from how she always pictured it.

  She was a wreck, and as such she had no business at his door. Her face hurt, her eyes were swollen from crying, and now she had to see him—the man she secretly admired from afar. What a disaster!

  She clutched the tray with her right arm, took a deep breath then knocked. “My lord, ‘tis Desaree with your breakfast.” He did not open the door. Instead he said, “You may enter.” The sound of his deep voice, the anticipation of entering his room, the thought of seeing him in private—it was nearly too much to bear. Nevertheless, she squared her shoulders proudly, remembering that life had not always been this way, and turned the knob on the door.

  After letting herself in, she saw that Lord Verath was standing near the fire with his back to her. He had one arm propped upon the mantle as he gazed into the flames. How he looked like the picture of elegance and poise, like something from a painting.

  Remaining silent, she prayed that he would not look upon her. She could not bear for him to notice her, or else her heart might stop. As she made her way across the room, no matter how hard she tried, it was impossible to keep from blushing in his presence. Fortunately, he remained turned the other way.

  She began positioning his meal on the table, removing each of the contents from the tray. No matter how quickly she wished to move, no matter how eager she was to escape him, she refused to be careless. So she placed everything perfectly.

  “What in the name of Asjaa happened to your face, Desaree?”

  She jumped, nearly dropping the utensils she held. When she looked up, it was to see Lord Verath standing across from her. He intently studied her. She could feel the hot burn of blood as her cheeks reddened. The bruise forming on her face throbbed.

  “My lord, it is nothing,” she managed to say, turning her eyes downward. In a flourish, he walked around the table to her, and without permission, took her chin in his hands. There, he turned her head this way and that to better see the bruise.

  “It does not look like nothing, not to me. Did someone do this to you?”

  She couldn’t lie to him. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered.

  He waited a few moments before saying, “Well? Are you going to tell me who?”

  She shook her head, a difficult task with him still holding her chin in his fingers. His touch alone left her heart fluttering, but she could not tell him what he wanted to know. If she did, Lady Caterina might get in trouble. That would make things much worse for her. It was not worth the risk, so she kept her mouth shut.

  Lord Verath was not happy with her refusal, but he released her and did not further push the subject. She left him as quickly as possible, returning the tray to the kitchens, engulfed in shock. In her entirety at the keep, she had never spoken to him. A few times he had caught her eye, likely by accident. The few times she noticed his gaze, her face had burned like a thousand fires.

  It all began when she arrived at the castle. She was thirteen when she became a servant within the keep’s walls. At first, she admired him from afar. Everyone knew the names of the king’s six. They were famous and even idolized, occupying many tales children grew up adoring. She knew plenty of stories about Lord Verath in particular, about his bravery, and his loyalty to the king. It came as no surprise when she began developing feelings for him.

  She never told anyone of course, but she could not help perking up at the mention of his name, or blushing at
the sight of him. She never expected him to notice her. She especially never dreamed that he might know her name. And now, he showed concern for her. It made her almost giddy with delight. Lord Verath, concerned about her, Desaree the servant.

  Once she checked in with Tess, she made her way to the second-floor chambers where she was scheduled to perform the day’s chores. Her mind was on Lord Verath. For the rest of the day and many days to come, she thought of nothing else except him.

  25

  Northern Barrier Range

  Mikkin adjusted his sitting position in the saddle upon the horse he rode. Little good it did to ease the ache in his rump. Gods how he hated this form of traveling. It wasn’t so much the beast as it was the riding. He would have preferred walking, but Jamie was right. On horseback, it would take them a little over a day to reach the mountain range. Already, the uninviting peaks loomed up before them, casting dark shadows on the hills at their base. But that part of the journey would wait for the ‘morrow. They had traveled far enough and it was time to make camp. In the morning, Tynen would take the horses and return home to Landow, leaving Mikkin and Jamie to continue on foot. The range was no place for a horse, and he was glad of it.

  Mikkin was comfortably familiar with his environment. He’d grown up beneath the gloom of the mountains, hunting in them, exploring them, and camping in them with his children. But he never journeyed deep into their midst. His knowledge and memory would only take him so far. The rest would be a real test.

  Together, the three of them located a small grove of trees through which a small shallow stream ran, its lyrical trickle inviting them to quench their thirst. “I’ll tend to the horses,” Tynen said. “If you two wouldn’t mind lookin’ for wood, we can get a fire going.” They agreed and set off to search. Having brought only jerky and bread, there was no need for a fire, especially in the summer heat, but it would be a nice comfort once the sun went down.