Within a month of his help, Callie had seen her marks go up by an entire increment. (I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like the equivalent of a letter grade.) The semi-literate farm children of Valeriya often risked expulsion for basic skills that had little to do with magic, so the change relieved Callie of a worrisome burden. Also, and more important to her than her standing in the school of magic, Ben was sharing the knowledge he’d gained concerning farming and teaching Callie to make plenty from limited resources.
Rosalyn and Lily were as detestable as ever. “But my brief time with you and the help Ben has been giving me has put them in perspective. Thank you, Leah, for being my friend. If not for you, I would not know the kindness people are capable of. I do not know if you and I shall ever meet again; you seem destined for a different kind of life, like the characters in the sagas. Still, I should be grateful to see you again and pledge to help you in what small ways I can.”
Yours humbly and in love,
Callie
I held Callie’s letter to my chest for a few minutes. I hoped we would meet again, too.
Ben’s letter was much longer than Callie’s, with small precise handwriting and dense paragraphs. A month after I’d been spirited away from Valeria, Elijah had returned. He and Ben had done research together, and Ben had written with great excitement about their findings.
Elijah is willing to attempt to open a portal to return you home; however, the spell must be cast while the winter stars still shine. If you can reach Valeriya in time… read the last paragraph that would haunt me for days.
I read the lines a few times, then gazed sadly out the window at the beautiful spring day.
Over the next few days, good tidings of war continued to pour in. Latule only had a few pockets of troops left. Those who weren’t killed or taken prisoner had scattered to Ivenbury to try and regroup. Many had deserted and fled for Ceredwyn.
Although I knew I should feel happy about Arencaster’s victories, I couldn’t stop thinking about California: Mom, Dad (not that his new position let him come home much), sunshine in skies of flawless blue, the beach, electricity, running water, and taco shops. Things I’d always wanted to try like driving to the Redwoods and performing on stage seemed doable now, possibly because of all I’d been through. Nearly dying at Mersania’s hands had filled me with a desire to seize life in a way I never had before.
Elijah and Mersania’s offer to send me home continued to preoccupy me. I had to keep reminding myself the change of seasons didn’t mean my chance was gone forever. It would just be a year before it became a possibility again. The fading of the winter stars might explain why Mersania had brought me to Autumnstead rather than throw me into a portal like last week’s trash.
The last battle of the war drove all things portal-related out of my mind. Queen Arencaster assembled everyone in the castle to read the announcement being made across Autumnstead and Ivenbury: Reldion le Valen had led a Wagoner army in a surprise attack against the weakened, discouraged Latule troops, reclaiming the last of Autumnstead Forest and ending the war.
He’d obviously escaped the Wilders. I wondered how he’d gotten down the mountain so quickly. Then remembered how I’d returned to Autumnstead. Could he and Mersania… Now that she’d dumped Gerry, it was certainly a possibility. I’d have to ask Reldion when I saw him again.
I got my chance at the Victory Festival in Autumnstead Village.
When the official invitation came to my room, I wondered if I should go. I’d never liked parties; I always ended up standing against the wall watching things happen to other people.
While I pretended to be busy with a letter to Ben (I was really agonizing about the party), a servant entered the room, her arms piled high with dresses.
“What are these?” I said, wondering if I would be forced to attend the party for nebulous political reasons.
“These are from Princess Fiona,” the servant said. “She has received new clothes from the capital and won’t be needing them anymore. Will you attend tonight’s party, My Lady?”
“Err, I… I was just trying to decide,” I answered at last.
“I’ve been ordered to help you get ready should you choose to go. If I may be so bold, I wish I were as lucky as you.”
“In what way?” I said, thinking again of my bad luck with the portal.
“Being invited to the party, of course! All the war heroes will be there: Princess Fiona, of course, and…” She proceeded to rattle off names of generals I’m sure I’d heard of in the Council of War and then forgotten.
“Tell me,” I said, mid-guest list. “Will Reldion be there?”
“Who?”
“Reldion le Valen, the Wagoner.”
“Oh, him.” The servant actually giggled. “Forgive me, My Lady. Your question amused me.”
“Huh?”
“I had forgotten you hail from a distant land. Reldion le Valen loves parties and is notorious for turning up whether he is invited or not.”
That information brought me to a decision. “Very well. I will go.”
As the servant sighed with envy, I mentally set up my strategy. I’d go to the party, just for a short time, to see the Wagoner with my own eyes. We didn’t need to talk, if he were surrounded by admirers. Once I’d completed my “mission,” I’d turn in.
That evening, clad in the lightest-weight of Fiona’s dresses, I made the short walk from Castle Autumnstead to the village. After months in the wilderness wearing filth and rags, it lifted my spirits to wear a fine dress the blue-violet of the California sky.
The village atmosphere had lightened considerably from the last time I’d come through. Merry music and singing - a different song around every corner - replaced the hum and bustle of war. Dressed in their finest clothes, people of all stations meandered through the streets laughing, eating, and drinking. The scent of roasting meat, onions, and bread filled the spring night air. Only the colorful paper lanterns reminded me of Mersania and the dark times that had preceded Autumnstead’s victory, and these, I quickly forgot when I saw the fireworks over the square: flowers of color and light blooming in the meadows of the sky.
As I expected after the fireworks, I found the Wagoners camped in the town square, their wagons pulled in a circle. At the center, Reldion stood on a barrel, gesturing wildly. The reeking fruit wine hung in the air.
“When they saw that I intended to free their golden haired prize, they came after me. Single-handed, I cut through the thick ropes they’d used to bind her. My other hand, and indeed my feet did not stay idle. I broke many Wilder noses, knocked out many Wilder teeth. Many of those dirty bastards will never become fathers now.” Reldion nodded, pleased with himself.
I had to laugh at his comically embellished retelling of my escape. But I wasn’t going to dispute it. He done good things for me and for Autumnstead. I’d let him have his time in the sun.
“Shaldom ordered everyone to look for the girl. ‘When you find her, bring her to my bed,’ he said, salacious dog, bastard even among Wilders.” Reldion added some other choice titles to Shaldom’s name that made his listeners cheer and raise their glasses. Some made up their own titles, competing with Reldion’s vulgarities. It took some time before the story got back on track.
“The Wilders had been making merry all night. Naturally, they didn’t look too hard. I waited for them to sleep, then overcame the lock on my cage door. It posed little challenge.”
Now for the part I didn’t know.
“While the enemy slept, I stole to the cages where King Tub kept the animals.” He’d appropriated my name for Shaldom, too. We were going to have some things to talk about in our next conversation.
“I freed all of them. Breaking the locks would have created too much noise, so I picked them, swiftly. Few locks challenge the deft fingers of Reldion le Valen, least of all crude designs decades old. Although I have no love for Wilders, Shaldom had done me personal injury. I allowed the greatest of the animals, an ancient bear who was ma
te to the one that had occupied my cage, to lead me to the man bound to him. I woke him and persuaded him to rouse the people to overthrow King Tub and his allies. It was done before evening of the next day. Now there is peace between the Wagoners and the Rusnak Family.”
“Until the next time one of us insults them!”
“Or one of us fathers a Wilder child.”
As the Wagoner men roared at their rapier wit, the self-proclaimed all-seeing eyes of Reldion le Valen finally spotted me.
“Leah!” Reldion jumped down from the barrel he’d been perched on. The Wagoners parted for him. “This is the girl!” Reldion proclaimed. “The girl who was my traveling companion! The one I saved from the foul sheets of Shaldom Valtan’s bed! I cut her bonds while fighting off a legion of Wilders! I’m so glad you made it back to the south!” he said, lifting me right off the ground and whirling me around. That and the engulfing odor of fruit wine made my head spin.
“It’s good to see you,” I said when he’d released me from his bear hug of an embrace. “But I distinctly recall cutting my own ropes with your dull knife.”
For some reason, the assembled Wagoners found that wildly funny. Reldion looked closer at me, his golden eyes searching me for clues. “You greet me now in the Wagoner’s language. When did you learn so much of it?”
Whoa. I hadn’t realized what language I was speaking. I guess whatever I had done at the Wilders’ camp remained in effect. “Something just clicked one night,” I said, not wanting to explain in detail here. “I’m sure it helped listening to you talk to yourself all the time.”
Reldion joined the Wagoners in another hearty group laugh.
“Her tongue’s as sharp as Fiona’s!”
“She looks like her, too!”
“Hail Fiona, the General-Princess!”
The Wagoners launched into a song about Fiona that might have been acclaim - in its original form. With the addition of the fruit drink, it turned into something bawdy and absurd.
“I didn’t mean to make you lose your crowd,” I shouted to Reldion over the off-key roar.
“They’ll keep each other entertained,” Reldion said with a wave of his hand. “And increase the ranks of Wagoner children. We need some red hair in this village.”
Eww. This was the perfect time for a subject change.
“How did you know to return south?” I asked. And I really did wonder. It wasn’t like I’d been able to leave a message or anything.
“I encountered Ariana while I was traveling with the Wilders. She’d made a new home in the woods to get away from the Arencaster-Latule war and the problems it had brought her, and also to be closer to her dragon.
“She asked what I was doing so far north, and I told her you and I were looking for a young man.
“Ariana started to speak several times, only to stop. At last she said, ‘Leah has returned south. As you should as well.’”
Goosebumps leaped across my arms. What, I wondered, had become of Gerry?
“Despite how cryptic she was being, I believed her. She looked sad, sadder than I’ve ever seen her, despite her usual solemnity.”
I wondered if Lady Ariana ever shared her greatest secret with Reldion. I had my doubts.
“It is so good to see you again, Leah of California.” Tears glistened in Reldion’s fire-blue eyes. “Drink with us this night!”
I declined Reldion’s invitation, claiming that I was meeting Queen Arencaster later. There was no way that could end well. I’d bet the Wagoners’ fruit wine would make me sick for the next week.
Satisfied I had done what I came to, I started back for the castle. Navigating at night in the festive crowd complicated things, however, and I missed the boulevard. It’s not like Autumnstead Village was that big and confusing, but I got lost in California regularly with GPS. My wrong turn brought me to the barracks practice yard, now the site of a party within a party. Beneath a canopy, soldiers, many in uniform and some wearing armor, danced with women wearing colorful skirts and flowers in their hair. The swirl of skirts, the group dancing style, the live music — upbeat by medieval standards — all was like a movie come to life. I’d stop and watch for a while, I decided. It was a nice night.
I didn’t get to enjoy my solitude for long.
“Won’t you join in our dance?” a young man asked me. From his finely-cut blue coat and white ruffled shirt, he seemed to be a man of station.
“Uh, er,” I fumbled. He seemed familiar, with his short ash-blond hair, smooth face, and china blue eyes. Where did I know him from?
As I struggled to make myself speak, he smiled in a suspicious way, then put his hand over his mouth like he was trying not to laugh. “Leah, it’s me: Fiona!”
“Wha—” Ok, that explained the déjà vu: the resemblance to Faxon. “Your hair,” I managed to get out at last.
Fiona shrugged. “It’ll grow back. It was a hindrance under my helmet.”
With that, she drew me into the dance, which turned out to be a group effort in which each dancer ended up partnered with every other person. To my amusement, I recognized many guards who had stood watch over my room, many of whom smiled and inclined their heads.
Throughout the dance, I stole glances at Fiona. It was the first time I’d really seen her since our argument. (I might have glimpsed her during yesterday’s victory parade, but all the soldiers started to look alike after a while, especially in their armor.)
When the musicians took a break, Fiona and I joined the other dancers for skewered meat and watered wine.
“I remember that dress,” Fiona said. “It was a birthday gift from my grandmother in house Latule. Mother was furious that I never wore it. It suits you, though.”
I smiled. “I heard you were got new clothes, too.”
“Yes.” Fiona spun around so I could appreciate the full effect of her new knee-length coat, beige pants, and shining boots. “Now that the queen has accepted that I have saved the country with my sword, not with my hand in marriage, I am permitted to dress as I please. Although, it was her idea to buy clothes from the capital, so I would not be wearing ‘the castoff rags of a common foot soldier.’”
I had to laugh at that brutal comment. Queen Arencaster spared no one when it came to opinions.
Fiona raised her eyebrow at me, just as Faxon had done, it seemed a lifetime ago. “If you’re quite finished,” Fiona said with only slightly exaggerated stiffness, “I have something to show you.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a surprise. But we have to go to the stables to see it. Come.” And Fiona was off, forcing me to scurry after her. She could get some long strides in those pants, especially compared to me in these long skirts. At least, I reflected, I wasn’t slogging through snow this time.
As we were leaving, a group of soldiers enjoying the festival together entered the barracks opening. In the crowd of laughing young faces, I saw Tolliver. He wore green and gray for the occasion, though he’d opted for the lighter chainmail rather than the heavy plate armor. His hair was getting long, I realized, almost to the center of his back. His dark eyes meeting mine took my breath away in a much more favorable way than suffocating on the Wagoners’ fruit wine.
We had both stopped, I realized, and the people with us were starting to notice.
Tolliver opened his mouth to speak, and in a flash, I remembered the letter I had written him. My face flushed; then my body turned cold. I’d held nothing back, believing I wouldn’t return from my quest. How could I face Tolliver after that? He probably thought I was a needy, neurotic mess, or whatever people in this day and age called it. I had to get away! I balled up my skirts in one hand, practically lifting them to my knees. Whistles and cheers filled the streets at what appeared to be my drunken escapade. I grabbed Fiona with my other hand and hustled us away from the barracks. To disguise what I was doing, I started talking a mile a minute about how excited I was to see my surprise.
With the new pace I was setting, we reached the stable in less
than ten minutes. I leaned both hands against the door and took a minute to catch my breath. Fiona, meanwhile, found a lantern within and lit it.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Okay!” I hoped I sounded enthusiastic. I still felt shaken from sighting Tolliver.
Fiona led me down the rows of stalls. The darkness smelled of horses, hay, and leather. At the stall at the end, we stopped, and Fiona gave a low whistle. The horse that trotted up had a coat and mane that gleamed like a gray pearl. The moment I saw her brown eyes, I knew her.
“Bella!” I gasped in delight.
The mare whickered and pressed her nose into my waiting hand.
Gone were the burrs and dirt from travel. Her belly looked rounder than when I’d last seen her, too. “How did you ever find her?”
“When Reldion routed Latule from the woods, he rounded up all their horses. He kept the best for the Wagoners and turned the rest over to to Autumnstead and Ivenbury. As captain, I was among the first to pick from them. Now didn’t I tell you she’d be okay?”
“You did,” I said to be agreeable. “I’m so glad to see you!” I held out some pieces of hay and patted Bella’s neck while she ate.
“She didn’t come without a price, though.”
I turned from Bella with the hay still in my hand. “Price? But I don’t have any money.” Bella stretched her neck toward me. As I fed her the rest of the hay, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut about how very broke I was in this world. Not that it was much different back at home; I couldn’t afford a horse there, either.
“You mean you didn’t take some of the dragon’s gold?” Fiona pressed. “A fine horse like Bella isn’t cheap.”
“There really wasn’t time for that.” My vision blurred, and I had to look away from her. In the end, I was well-rid of Gerry. It wasn’t fair that his rejection hurt so much.
Rescuing the Prince Page 29