by M. S. Brook
Uncle Leo’s mouth twisted, and he hid his face in his hands. His voice was muffled. “The king was deeply grieved. You can imagine how it felt, knowing I had failed them both, but I still had you to care for. You are the one who got me through those terrible days. I had to live in order to keep you safe.” He picked up the trowel again and began smoothing over the dug-up ground.
“I’ve always wondered why you brought me here. Why not some hiding place farther north, closer to the king?”
“He wanted you near the garrison for safety. And with Prince Alestar long dead, there was no one at Highfield to specially draw the eye of Saduk. You, by inheritance, along with myself, are all that’s left of that great company at Ashling Keep.”
I looked at his kind face, as familiar to me as my own. Written there was the painful price of love and duty, but I also saw the deep affection and loyalty the king and queen had inspired, a loyalty he transferred without question to me even though I’d done nothing to earn it.
I took his earth-stained hands and covered them with mine. They were a miniature portrait of his nature—brown and strong, clever with his treatments and healing remedies, but unafraid of hard calluses and dirt.
“Uncle Leo, you’ve done all any man could do. Let it rest now; you’ve done your duty.”
“I’ll rest when I’m finished,” he said, “and we’re by no means finished yet.”
Chapter 21
A dry, slithering sound snapped me to attention like a taut bowstring. I rose to my elbow on my bedroll and peered into the darkness. There, in the shadows beyond the glowing embers of the fire pit, was a stealthy movement, an angular head rising on thick coils. Two compelling eyes gathered the dim light and locked on to mine. I held myself still, my heart thumping wildly, unable to pull away from the glittering gaze. I slid my hand slowly toward my hip. My sword wasn’t there.
I held my breath, afraid to move, but the snake knew exactly where I was. It was watching me, knowing that it had me cornered. The shiny black scales wound themselves into a deadly coil, the forked tongue flickered, and the snake lashed out like a whip, straight for my heart. I dove out of reach—and awoke to find myself on the floor of my loft, trembling all over, covered in cold sweat.
It was just a dream.
I sat up, my heart pounding, my palms slick. I wiped my hands on my damp nightclothes and pulled myself off the floor. A hound was barking somewhere in the darkness. I looked out my window, but the sliver of moon had nothing to show me. All was quiet except for my pounding heart. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes, my heartbeat slowly returning to normal. A floorboard creaked…and then another. I sat up just as someone, or something, lunged up my loft ladder. I grabbed for the sword-belt hanging on my bedpost, but I was too late. A large, gloved hand stopped me—that, and the sharp edge of a blade pressed against my neck. I froze, and the hand shoved me back on the bed and held me there, the loft shuddering again as a second man bounded up the ladder.
“What do you want?” I bit out between clenched teeth, the knife still at my throat.
“Shut your mouth! You’ll find out soon enough.”
The second man stooped in the low doorway. “Belay the chatter and bring her down! We don’t have all night.”
They dragged me down the ladder like a sack of barley, letting go of me at the bottom. I fell face down on the floorboards, only partly breaking my fall with one hand. My face slammed into the floor, smashing my nose and splitting my upper lip. The men yanked me to a seated position near the banked fire and tied my hands behind me. I struggled to get my bearings, but my head was a confusing swirl of pain. My face throbbed; blood pouring from my smashed nose soaked the front of my nightshirt.
Two more men, clad in black, dragged Papa into the sitting room, his hands and feet bound. They dropped him on the floor beside me, and his head cracked on the floorboards.
I heard a small gasp coming from the doorway of the sleeping room. “Aidriana!”
Even Mama’s hands were tied behind her back. The man walking her out of the sleeping room shoved her to the floor. “Be quiet!”
Unable to break her fall, she landed on Papa legs, weeping softly. One of the men jerked Papa into a seated position, and I was relieved to see he was conscious and able to sit up. My head was still swimming, but the bleeding from my nose had slowed to a steady drip. I exchanged a look with Papa in the low light. His ankles were tied together, but my legs were free, leaving me in a better position to do something. Somehow we had to draw the attention of the night watch across the green, but how? I tested the bonds at my wrists—no give.
There were five Bezarqs in all. The chief sprawled in Papa’s chair, with one of his men standing at either side. The other two stood beside Papa and me. The commanding Bezarq motioned to the man on his left. “Build up the fire so we can see.” His eyes glittered in the flare of firelight, reminding me of the snake in my dream. Even his face had the angular shape, hooded eyes, and pointed chin of a serpent. He cast his gaze on Papa. “Why is this Northlander living in your house? He reached out and kicked Papa’s leg. “Answer me! Where did she come from?”
Papa said nothing, and the man sneered. “Silence will not help you. Give us what we want, or we will take her back with us. She can answer to Lord Saduk himself. I assure you he will get his questions answered.”
Papa quickly replied. “We don’t know where she came from. She’s a foundling. She was left on our doorstep in a basket.”
The Bezarq thrust forward in his chair. Before he could strike Papa, I said. “Look here, snake!”
The snake’s head swung at me. We locked gazes. “What did you call me?”
“Snake. I called you snake.” I was aware of an uneasy shuffling beside me.
“Who told her my name?”
“We didn’t tell her, sir!” said the man beside me.
It was my turn to be surprised, but I hid it. “No one told me. I am a seer. I know all about you.”
“A witch!” The snake ducked and made a quick shielding motion with his hands, a move that his men mimicked. It was the best chance I would have. I swiveled sideways and lashed out with both feet, collapsing the knees of the man standing between me and the fire. He made a muffled grunt and staggered back into the fireplace. Cracking his head on the stone, he was unable to right himself and slid down hard, landing in the newly kindled flames. His cloak caught fire even as he screamed and tried to roll away. The other men jumped to pull him out, but his clothes were now aflame, his screaming turned to desperate shrieks.
“Idiots!” The Bezarq commander leapt forward. His dagger flashed, and the terrible sound died in an instant. “Bring the girl!” he shouted, running for the door.
Two of them grabbed me, one under each arm, and pulled me headfirst through the door. I dug in with my bare feet as best I could. The dead man’s clothes were burning, and Mama and Papa were trapped in the cottage with him. I struggled and shouted for help. One of my captors grabbed for my mouth with his spare hand. My face was slippery with blood, and I escaped his grasp and kept shouting. Dogs were barking along the lane, and my captors gave up on being quiet, giving all their attention to dragging me as quickly as they could. I fought to slow them down as they ran me headfirst toward the smithy, but my bare feet could find little purchase. The sharp gravel ripped at my flesh, and my arms were nearly torn from their sockets as they rushed forward. The tower bells were ringing now, and men in their nightclothes were spilling out into the lane, clutching weapons and lanterns. I could hear shouted orders and the sound of horses pounding through the gates, but they were too late. We rounded the back of the smithy, and I heard the quiet wicker of horses in the shadows. The Bezarq chief threw himself into the saddle at a run. “Heave her up!” The grip under my arms tightened, but before his men could obey, there was a wonderful sound behind us.
“Drop her now!”
Rowland
Kempton’s voice, emerging from the side of the smithy, was like a clap of thunder. The Blackcoats let me fall, pulling their swords to defend themselves. I fell to my knees and toppled over on my side. With great effort, I managed to roll out of the way of horses and men.
“Get them!” Rowland shouted, and his men needed no encouragement. The Bezarqs scattered and ran, the Guardians roaring after them. Rowland dropped to his knee beside me. “Are you all right?”
“There’s a fire in the cottage—Mama and Papa are inside!” Rowland grabbed his dagger and severed my bonds. I tried to push myself up with my numb arms, but Rowland had to help me. I took one step and collapsed, unable to bear weight on my shredded feet.
“Allow me.” He scooped me into his arms and turned back toward the cottage. I rested my head against his chest for just a moment, and then I caught an acrid whiff of smoke. “Great lights!” Rowland said and began to run for the cottage, holding me tight as he took great lumbering steps. Folk were already lining up with water buckets, some splashing water on the reed roof, but most going inside where smoke was pouring out of the open front door. Mama was standing in the middle of the lane, but where was Papa?
“Put me down, I must find Papa!”
“Wait here. I will find him for you.”
Rowland sat me down at Mama’s feet. She knelt beside me, crying my name over and over, crushing me in her embrace. I felt her tears wetting the back of my nightshirt. And then Papa was there, and Uncle Fergal, and Uncle Leo. All talking at once. I heard Lord Kempton say, “The cottage is saved. There’s nothing more you can do tonight. We’ll put you in the spare rooms on the fourth floor.” And then Rowland was picking me up again in spite of my protests.
“I’m all right,” I said.
“Yes, you are. But your poor feet are not.” His face was in the shadows, but I heard the grim tone in his voice. I thought his men must be on his mind, so I let him carry me in silence. I had my own worries anyway, suddenly remembering the little box with the letter and portrait inside. It was too late now. I could only hope that it was safe in the chest in the sleeping room. Rowland carried me all the way to the keep. It seemed to cost him little effort until the stairs, where I noticed his breath quicken with each floor.
“How did you get to me so fast?” I asked him.
“I was officer of the watch. We heard the screams, and then I saw them dragging someone away. You were fighting like a wildcat!” Rowland’s face lightened into a smile that reached his eyes. “It slowed them down enough that we could catch up to you.”
Uncle Leo met us in the doorway. The apartment was just like his, with a common sitting room and a sleeping room at either end. “Bring her in, Rowland, put her on the bed.” In the confusion of everyone talking at once, Rowland slipped away before I could thank him.
Papa pulled a familiar wooden box out of his tunic. I clutched it to my chest and squeezed Papa’s hand, trying not to cry. Uncle Leo gave sips of brandy to everyone, and I felt warmth go all through my body. He gave me a moment to rest and then began to gently probe my face. “There’s too much swelling to even guess if your nose is broken, but at least it looks fairly straight.”
“Fairly straight?”
“We’ll know more when the swelling goes down. Can you breathe through your nose at all?”
“No.” My voice sounded thick to my ears, like it belonged to someone else. I tried to smile at him and was reminded of my split lip.
“Just rest, dear girl,” Uncle Leo said. “I’ll take good care of you.”
It was strange to be the one in need of the healer, to feel the gentle touch, the bandages and liniment, the healing song sung over me, but it did bring me rest. Later in the morning, a sharp rap sounded at the apartment door. Papa answered, and I heard Sergeant Azar’s gruff voice. “Just to let you know, sir, we got all five of them. They won’t be reporting back to Saduk.”
“Did you learn anything more?”
“No, sir. They wouldn’t be taken alive.”
“I hoped you would have the chance to question them. They knew that Aidriana was from the North.”
“I’ve been thinking on it, sir. Wondering if some Blackcoat saw her with the patrol.” There was a small hesitation, and then Azar said, “I hope this isn’t true, but I have also wondered about the loyalty of the Evergreens. I could personally vouch for most of them, having worked and fought side by side. But what if there is even one who might bear some loyalty to Saduk?”
“Either way, it’s troubling,” Papa said.
“I agree. I have no intention of letting this rest. Well, before I go, the Eagles and Lions send their compliments to Miss Aidriana. Her bravery and wit is much remarked upon. We hope she is well soon.”
The sergeant left, and I lay on my invalid’s bed, listening to Mama and Papa talk, the way I used to as a child. But their conversation was less comforting now.
Mama said, “I can’t bear to think what might have happened. It’s bad enough as it is. Her face…” Mama’s voice quavered, and I winced. I hadn’t seen a mirror, but I could imagine what I looked like, my face darkened with bruising, eyes nearly swollen shut.
“And her poor feet, all bloody and torn. To think that something like this might happen on a lonely field somewhere far away from us. How can we let her go again?”
“It’s in her blood, Clare. We can’t alter her course.”
“I know…but would her own family let this happen to her?”
“Not willingly, I’m sure, but a king must face danger, and his heir also.”
“I want to understand, but…”
I imagined Mama putting on her brave face as she said it, and hot tears filled my swollen eyes and further clogged my stuffed-up nose. My shining dream of being a warrior seemed a little tarnished now. Was I right in pursuing it? What kind of hurt was I bringing to Mama and Papa? Last night our cottage was swarming with Bezarq brutes, and likely it was all because of me. I was glad that Mama escaped with no more than a few bruises and aches, but would she ever feel safe again? Did I need to make it worse by throwing myself into danger? I rolled on my side and tried to find a way to breathe through my mouth without drooling. I slept away the day, between dressing changes and bowls of soup.
I was feeling better when Uncle Leo came the next day, but I wasn’t ready for what he had to say to me. “It’s time we told Lord Kempton who you are,” he said in the quiet way he had of announcing the unexpected.
“What do you mean?” I said. “Lord Kempton already dislikes me. Why would we throw kindling on the embers?”
“He’s the chief regent. He needs to know you’re the heir.”
“But you’ve kept it from him all this time.”
“I’m not sure that was a good idea—and it’s not that he doesn’t like you. He doesn’t know who you are, therefore, he doesn’t know what to do with you. The Kemptons were appointed Stewards of the King’s Household by your great-grandfather. Jamis was brought up to honor duty and service to the Royal House above all else. He will do what is right by you. But don’t worry. All this can wait until you’re better.”
I still couldn’t bear weight on my painful feet, so we arranged a chair by the window and propped my feet on cushions. My window overlooked the mews and the west side of the Guardian garrison. The curtain walls were double, leaving a wide place between inner and outer walls where the Guardians were barracked. There were high windows at the top of the inside wall and occasionally a doorway leading into the ward. I watched the Guardians, from the morning piping of the anthem to the last change of watch in the evening. I saw them in their proud Red and Blues coming and going on patrol, exercising the horses, endlessly cleaning and mending weapons, armor, and equipment; I heard their laughter and games at the end of the day. Could I ever be a true part of it? They were so carefree, so natural in their fortress home, doing what they were trained to do.
&nbs
p; Arvel came for a short visit. His eyes were full of concern, taking in the bruises and scabs on my face. “I hope you are feeling better.”
I nodded. “Much better.” I wished I could tell him what I’d been thinking, but I didn’t want Mama to overhear.
“I’d have given my right arm to be there,” he said. “Rowland told me what happened. He asks after you.”
“Please tell him I am doing well, thanks to him.”
Arvel left, and I had all afternoon to watch the Guardians at their duties. Whatever I decided about my future, it would have to be with my whole heart.
In a few days, the swelling left my face. I could breathe through my nose again, which, as Uncle Leo said, remained “fairly” straight. When my painful feet healed enough to walk, Uncle Leo and I went in search of Lord Kempton, my precious box clutched under my arm.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I said to Uncle Leo.
“Trust me. You could not find a man more loyal to the Crown. You’ll see.”
Lord Kempton was in the council room. He answered our knock himself. “Lionel, what brings you here?”
“Might we have a word with you, my lord?”
Lord Kempton nodded and turned his attention on me, lowering his bushy, ginger brows. “Good to see you’re getting around now. Your mother is well?”
“Yes, thank you. She is recovered, though perhaps not from the fright.”
Lord Kempton nodded. “It could have ended much worse. You do seem to have a way of landing in the midst of trouble, don’t you?” His face took on the sour look I remembered from past confrontations, and my heart turned to lead. If this was how we started, what would he say after he heard my story?