by M. S. Brook
The three men remained kneeling before me, waiting. I avoided their insisting eyes, my heart threatening to thump out of my chest, pressing so I could hardly breathe.
The sounds of the land came back inside again, distant sounds, penetrating the quiet of the room. Women singing while they aired out linens and swept their front steps, children laughing and playing, the hewing of wood and the busy tapping of hammers, all spoke of the Canwyrrie I knew and loved, the nation I was born to serve.
Orabella broke into my thoughts, her voice unusually gentle. “Lady Aidriana, it is time you took hold of your inheritance.”
In a moment that felt like eternity, I considered her words and the heritage I was born to. Many brave men and women had gone before me, descendants of Enfys who had fought to preserve the realm, some serving well, others hunted down and killed to prevent the fulfillment of the prophecy—that a Warrior of the Dawn would arise to reunite the realm, making way for an age of peace and prosperity. I thought about Queen Riana dying of a fever and the healers’ desperate efforts to save her; of King Aidan holding off Saduk’s army until I could be taken to safety, his own life in peril; of Uncle Leo, and Mama and Papa, spending their days seeing that I was protected and cared for. I remembered Arvel and all the brave Guardians who gave their lives for the sake of Enfys. And I remembered the good people of our realm, so often at the mercy of the one who held the key of power in the land. “This is your promise, Aidriana,” the king had said in his letter. “You must not allow the Light of Enfys to be extinguished.”
I was the end of the line, the last hope of Enfys—and I was more terrified than I had ever been in my life.
Yet if anything was sure, I could not be the one to let it drift away. I could permit no sacrifice made, no drop of blood spilled, to fall upon the ground in vain. I carried the ancestry of kings; far be it from me to fail the generations that had gone before, no less the ones that would follow. Now a gap was torn in the line, and I could not turn my back to it.
I rose on trembling legs. Drawing courage from the royal blood that flowed through my veins, I met the eyes of the men kneeling before me. “I don’t know about the Warrior of the Dawn, but I do know this—we will not suffer the House of Enfys to fail—even if we have to break down the gates of Bal Zor with our bare hands. You are my witnesses as the Maker gives me strength.”
My sword whispered as I drew it from its scabbard. I knelt and laid it on top of the other swords. In a shaky voice, I pronounced the rest of the solemn rite: “I hold your sword in sacred trust and pledge my troth to you. My sword for your sword. My life for your life. My blood for your blood. Rise, loyal Guardians of the king.” I handed each man his sword, and we stood in a circle and raised them to the ceiling.
“For King Aidan!” I said.
“For the king!” The deep-throated roar shook the stone walls and resounded in the depths of my being. My confidence was rising with every word I spoke. “With your permission, Captain Azar, we will take the first step at once. Rowland and I will return to Highfield to request a hearing before the council of regents. We will call for a march to Bal Zor!”
Azar saluted. “My lady, you have my full backing for this endeavor. We will await further orders from Highfield.”
“One more very important thing,” I said. “All of you, on your sacred honor—not a word about this or the Warrior of the Dawn to anyone. That title will be bestowed upon the one who earns it. Is that fair enough?”
“Fair enough,” everyone agreed.
“Very well.” I sheathed my sword and buckled it into place. “We ride for Highfield tomorrow.”
Chapter 29
We set out for home in high spirits, Rowland and I riding side by side in the middle of our small company of Guardians. We spent long days in the saddle to speed our return, but the country was beautiful and green with the hint of summer’s heat to come, and our horses were lively after their days of rest.
Still, I felt my heart begin to sink the closer we came to Highfield. Our small company was strung out, two by two along the road, and from time to time, Rowland and I spoke quietly together of the challenges ahead in Highfield. We slowed our horses for a breather, and I said to him, “In my mind I’ve gone from a harsh defeat a few weeks ago to forging a plan to take Bal Zor. But the council won’t have taken that journey. They’ll still be back with the defeat of our patrol and the men we lost over the border. They may not give us a hearing at all.”
“My father will see that you get a hearing,” Rowland said. “I’m sure of it. I will speak to him first thing when we get back. He will understand what you want to do.”
“But this is the worst possible time to petition the council. If I’d possessed even the smallest notion of what is now before us, I never would have risked that first border crossing. And I’m supposed to be a seer!”
“Think of it this way,” Rowland said with a grin, “we may give them cause for a rare show of unity.”
I halfway smiled. “You’re just like my father, trying to make me laugh when there are serious things to worry about!”
“Worry won’t get you anywhere, but preparation will. One thing I learned from having the chief regent for a father is that how you present your case is very important. So we didn’t just have a defeat, let’s say we gained valuable experience fighting Saduk. No Guardian has even seen Saduk in the past fifteen years. So what did we learn from that? We learned, of course, that Saduk is afraid of us, but we also learned he can be lured away from his safe den at Bal Zor. That makes our chance of success much better. What else did we learn? Tell me about your vision as if I know nothing about it. Convince me again. You did very well the first time.”
“What can I say to them? I’m a seer, but I make mistakes and get people killed. Look, they’re never going to go for this. You know it as well as I do. We might as well turn around and head back. Everything I felt sure of at Evergreen is gone now. And I can’t believe I let you say that vow. If word about that gets out, the council will never find me credible. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Back at Evergreen you were thinking about who you are,” he said, “not what you’ve done or not done.”
How could he still be thinking about the prophecy? It didn’t even seem possible to me, and I was the heir. No, it was too far from what I knew myself to be. “It’s not like you think,” I said. “You should forget what Orabella said.”
“I know it must be hard—”
“But you don’t know. No one does.”
“Well, that’s because you won’t tell us. Who are you, Aidriana? Why have you never told anyone where you come from?”
I looked at the road ahead, glad that my dark skin hid the flush in my cheeks. “Forgive me. I don’t know how to answer your question.”
“My father knows. He won’t talk about it, even to me, but he knows. I can see it in his eyes when you’re in the room.”
“What do you mean?”
Rowland ignored my surprised outburst. “Several days ago Elder Stonedale told you it was time to take up your inheritance. She said all sorts of things, and you didn’t disagree with her.” I turned to look at his wistful eyes and then quickly looked straight ahead again.
“There’s talk in the garrison. Don’t worry, we’ve all sworn ourselves to silence outside our walls, but it’s obvious that you must be related to the Royal Family in some way. It won’t be a surprise if you tell me who you are.”
I felt uncomfortable not giving him a straight answer, but I was not displeased that his desire to know about me was so strong. It would be a relief to tell him. He was my champion and loyal friend. There was never a doubt he was utterly trustworthy, his family sworn to my protection. Still, Uncle Leo had said to tell no one…
Lost in thought, I tugged on my golden chain. The pledgestone pendant shifted in its safe hiding place next to my heart. I’d never reve
aled it to anyone, just as I had never revealed the secret of my birth. I was weary of keeping secrets.
“If anyone deserves to know, it’s you. It’s just that Lionel Wells has solemnly charged me not to speak of it to anyone.”
He looked down at the reins in his hands. “Forgive me,” he said softly. “I was out of place. I have no wish for you to break your charge. I respect you too much for that.”
In the silence that followed, it was I who felt out of place. His response had been so gracious. What would be the harm? I remembered how I’d felt when I knew I would never be able to tell Arvel. A sudden, sharp pain squeezed my heart. I couldn’t bear the thought that something might happen to Rowland, but even worse would be to know that I had kept the truth from him.
“No,” I said, “you are not out of place. I want to tell you.” I glanced over my shoulder to be sure we were not overheard and lowered my voice to a murmur. “I am the daughter of King Aidan and Queen Riana.”
For a moment, I thought he might fall off his horse. He stared at me with his mouth open, and I had to smother a laugh. “Didn’t you just tell me you knew anyway?”
He loosened the straps of his helmet and pushed it back; his face had taken on the hue of a ripe strawberry. “No…I mean, I never guessed that you were his daughter. A distant cousin we didn’t know about or something, but…” He shot a desperate look over his shoulder at the men behind us and was silent for a while. Our horses ambled along as if I had not just made an earth-shaking confession. I waited for him to sort it out.
Rowland wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand and pulled his helmet down again, dropping his reins for a moment to fasten the straps. “We always heard there was a son. Many thought he’d died of the same fever that took the queen, although my father was always sure he was hidden away somewhere. No one ever mentioned a daughter.”
I quietly told him how Uncle Leo had left me with Mama and Papa, who had not known until I was seventeen years of age.
“How did you learn?”
When I told him, he shook his head, dazed. “But why haven’t you made it known? You should be ruling from Highfield, not bowing before the council and begging their permission!”
“It’s not that easy. I need to have the confidence of our people, especially in a time like this, with open war threatening. All of Highfield knows me as the orphan girl from the North. That’s not good grounds for launching a sovereign reign.”
“I can vouch for the Guardians. You only have to say the word, and they are with you!”
“I appreciate your support, but both your father and Lionel agree the time is not yet right. If I were to declare now, it would open yet another chasm between the regents. This is not the time for further division and strife within Canwyrrie. As well, I believe that the king is a prisoner of Saduk. I aim to find him, and that will solve the question of rulership.”
“I hope you’re right,” Rowland said soberly.
We picked up our pace until noon when we stopped for a rest. Rowland and I walked a short distance away from the other men, and I gave him my copy of the king’s letter to read. He was calmer by that time, but he had the same awed reaction that Lord Kempton had when he’d read it.
“Has my father seen this?”
“He saw the original letter in the king’s own hand.”
“So, beyond a doubt, you are Princess Aidriana.” He barely breathed the words. “The king obviously meant you to be his heir. This changes everything.” He was still for a long moment, staring at the paper in his hand. “That wily Lionel! Telling everyone you were a boy.” He looked at me. “They fooled us all—we expected a male heir. Never imagined anything else. By my troth, the old man must have fallen right out of his chair when you told him!”
Perhaps because he was so serious, I couldn’t repress a giggle at the thought of dignified Lord Kempton falling out of his seat with surprise. In a moment we were both laughing.
“It was me all along. And as you can see, I’m no boy.”
“No.” His whisper brushed over me. “I’ve known that for quite some time.”
His words, and the look in his smoky blue eyes, must have revealed more than he meant to. He quickly looked away, but it was too late. In a moment, every kind word, every thoughtful act, his loyalty and friendship over the past months, all lay bare before me, and I was stunned. I had the sense that his feelings weren’t new, but that surprise had lowered the guard he usually kept in place. Rowland was staring at the letter in his hand, and I found myself unable to look away from the face of my childhood rival, grown so familiar over the past months. His eyes, hidden beneath pale lashes, scanned over the pages. Escaping locks of red tumbled over his freckled forehead, and his bearded cheeks and full mouth were drawn in thought. He must have felt my eyes. Looking up, he met mine, his gaze still full of warmth, but I pulled away. I had to.
How could I have been so unaware of his feelings? But that was who he was, I told myself. He would never be one to force his feelings where they were not wanted, nor allow himself to be distracted from duty. And that was how I would have to view it. I’d stumbled into his feelings, interesting though they were, at the worst possible moment. I could not be distracted now. I had to rein it in—before I made a real mess of things.
He handed the letter back to me, but I did not look at him. I folded it along its well-worn creases, deliberately tamping down my emotions, feeling his gaze as I put the letter in my pocket. “I’ve said more than I should have. Uncle Lionel would not be happy with me right now.”
Biting my lower lip, I dared a look at him; a tide of red crept up his neck, and his eyes had cooled to a distant blue-gray. “Indeed, my lady. You may rely utterly upon my discretion.” He made a stiff bow. “Our family has made a tradition of it, and I will not fail you. Your secret is safe with me.”
“I am most obliged. It must be about time to move out.”
“I believe so.”
I threw myself onto Morningstar with a sick feeling in my gut. I’d wanted to make a little room, to give myself a chance to think, to sort out what I was feeling, but it seemed I’d managed to slam the door shut on his knuckles. Back on the road, the friendship and ease that had passed the time so pleasantly was gone, replaced by polite formality on his part and strained awkwardness on mine.
No longer free to talk, my thoughts became an inward argument. I was unable to forget the look I’d seen in Rowland’s eyes. He hadn’t meant for me to see it, but I had, and I was beginning to wish I had responded differently. But what did that mean?
No, I told myself. Rowland had been right to keep his thoughts under guard. Our feelings had to be separate from the task ahead of us. We faced the most dangerous fight of our lives if the council allowed us to march on Bal Zor. Doubtless, many would not return from the battlefield. We could ill afford to be distracted by personal matters at a time like this.
Knowing that didn’t help me as I tossed sleeplessly on my bedroll that night. I thought about the close friendship I’d had with Arvel, remembering the casual way I’d wondered if we would ever be more than friends. I had thought there would be plenty of time to sort out my feelings later. But of course, later had not come. Would it be the same with Rowland? How would I ever bear it?
I must put him out of my mind, I told myself, turning yet again in my bedroll. I hoped I wasn’t keeping anyone awake. The fire had burned low, and I couldn’t see if Rowland was sleeping or not. I closed my eyes and remembered the caress of his deep voice and the look in his unguarded eyes, feeling a loneliness I had never known before.
We had only one more day of travel. I used it to mentally drill myself on what I would say to the council, but I was lacking Rowland’s thoughtful support and advice; not because he withheld it, but because I felt too awkward to ask for it. I had no one to help me anchor the thoughts that raced in all directions. I listened to the plodding hoof b
eats, the jostling of armor and creaking leather, and missed him though he was riding at my side.
We pushed on to reach Highfield before nightfall. It was windy and wet and growing dark when we arrived. Rowland reached for Morningstar’s reins as I dismounted. “I’ll put him up for you so you can see your family. We may not be here long.”
I didn’t release my hold on the reins. “The last thing I want is for you to feel like you must serve me,” I said quietly. “You need to see your family too.”
“It’s not that. I know you have a lot on your mind right now, and I want you to get as much rest as you can. My father will no doubt be occupied until later anyway. But you could do something for me. If you’re going to the kitchen, would you put aside some meat for me? I’ll get it after I’ve finished with the horses.”
It was the most normal exchange we’d had in two days, and I was so relieved that I stepped right back in it. “Thank you, Rowland. You’re a good friend.” He looked away, and I could have bitten my tongue off. I didn’t intend it that way, but he must have heard it as a repeated rebuff of his affections. I unfastened my treatment bag, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn’t make it worse. “I’m off to the kitchen, then. I’ll save supper for you.”
Evenfest was over, but I found roasted mutton in the larder. I filled a bowl with bread and meat for Rowland and left it, along with a jar of ale, with several Guardians who were still chatting at one of the tables. I slapped a slice of meat between two pieces of bread and ate it as I hurried upstairs, where I found Uncle Leo tucked away with Mama and Papa by our sitting room fire. After surprised hugs and kisses, Mama hung up my wet cloak and set out tea and current cakes. Papa pulled off my wet boots for me, propping my feet on a stool near the fire. The room was wonderfully warm, smelling of pine logs and dried lavender.
“Is Uncle Fergal about?”
“No doubt he’s with Lord Kempton,” Papa said. “I suppose you’ve heard about River Forge?”