by Raven Bouray
A few minutes later, her father had come back from the stable and was speaking with Arnir as one of the servants walked into the yard with a basket in hand. “Thank you, Nin.” Her father accepted the basket, and Nin bowed to him before taking her leave of them and hurrying back into the castle. “So, little dove, where shall we take our adventure?”
“It isn’t much of an adventure if you plan it, now is it father?”
All she received in return was a chuckle as they brought their mounts around and made for the gate to take them down the winding path to the village and the fields beyond.
Chapter 3
The curved dirt path down to the village was well trodden by both hooves and boots alike, and it did not take long to reach the bottom gate that sealed off the well situated castle from the people below. The two gate guards pulled the lever down that operated the gate mechanism, and with a click and the sound of metal grinding against itself, the gate rose. Emmaline and her father passed underneath into the bustle of the merchant district. It was perhaps the loudest part of the village and the most exciting for her. There were so many wares and products that always caught her attention, but that could be the shouting of merchants as they tried to outdo one another. Tonics, food, jewelry, pottery, clothes, and many more things lined the stalls down the road to the side, but her father led them away from that particular street before the tenacious salesmen caught sight of them.
They could always smell money and weakness, he had told her once. And if they don’t smell it, they will try to create one or the other in people. That’s not to say that all of them were like that, but one didn’t become rich merely by playing nice.
The merchant district was small compared to the housing and crafting districts, but aside from knowing where each of them began, there were no walls or signs to show others the way. People lived in one place and worked in another. She and her father passed by children at play and mothers with two or three toddlers or babies clinging to their skirts or on the breast. They passed by a beggar woman who received a loaf of bread from her father and a silver piece in hand, despite the fact that someone else might take that silver before the day was over.
Their horses continued on to the gate, which was only really a bit of fence with two guards stationed there. The road ahead was still paved with dirt, and Emmaline could not wait for when her grandfather might finally cobble the roads, so that when it rained, it was not so dangerous for travelers with deep ruts and mud pits. Right now though, only the road from the Barren Wilds to the Metrine had paved roads, and the road to the Half-Sea as well. The horses’ hooves made the most interesting noises on them. As it was, the packed dirt of the road was soft and well-trodden as they made their way out of the village and into the short grasses and yellow fields. It was the height of growing season and the crops looked as if they were flourishing. They always flourished. Ever since she could remember, they had never had a bad harvest, and food was always plentiful. From the trade reports that her father had let her read, they were often sending a surplus of food to other provinces and even to the capital.
They rode still yet in comfortable silence as she followed her father down a familiar path that forked off of the main road toward the river. It didn’t take them long to reach the small grassy knoll next to the river. Her father dismounted, and Emmaline followed suit.
He spread the blanket out onto the grass, and she helped to unfold corners and smooth it out. Once that was accomplished, they both sat down on the blanket. She only winced a little bit as her sore backside met with the ground, and in silence, they set out food and plates and ate together while watching the wind glide along the grass and water flow in the small stream. She knew that her father wanted to tell her something, probably something she wouldn’t much enjoy based on how long it was taking him to talk to her. Sometimes things like this were for fun, but most often, he took her somewhere with just the two of them to talk about important things. Her first fostering, and then the second, the first time he went away, which had not gone over well either, and the start of her training with the Captain. This time was different. It was just a feeling that this was the start of things completely changing and it made her uneasy although she didn’t show it. The sweetcakes were amazing, as they always were, and in the end, she decided to lie down on the blanket and watch the clouds.
She had been on the ground for a short time when he finally spoke. “Did you enjoy the meal, Dove?”
“Yes, Father.”
“You heard much of the conversation between myself and your grandfather, yes?”
“Yes. I told you before what I heard.”
“But you did not hear the first part of that conversation then. I am glad. I wouldn’t want you to hear it from anyone else but me, face to face.”
Her concern tripled, and she sat up to look at her father. His eyes were slightly averted now and she found that strange. He was always so brave, never shying over anything that he had to do but he was shying now. What had happened? “What is it?”
He gave a sigh and brought a large hand to rub the back of his neck, “Your grandfather and I argued about some things while I was away, and now with the events of late, I’ve been backed into a corner about this. You must understand that I fought very hard against it. Your mother was displeased when I told her.” As her father spoke, a slow weight began pulling at her stomach, bringing it ever closer to the ground.
“Tell me. What is it?” It wasn’t like her father to jump around words like this. He always spoke his mind without reservation, even if what he had to say would cause anger to the one he spoke to.
Another deep breath. “You must marry.”
For a moment, she wasn’t sure that she heard his words properly and merely stared at him with her mouth slightly agape. “What?”
“You must marry. And it will be to one of the men who will attend your birthing day celebration.”
She still didn’t quite comprehend. “I have to marry? But I haven’t even bled yet and I have no curves to speak of. Surely you jest, father.” The nervous chuckle that she finished with was not answered with the response she wanted.
“I am sorry, dove, but I do not jest in the least bit. Your grandfather has demanded it and has made it a royal decree to the families that he approved of. With this new situation we are in now, ties to the strongest houses must be reinforced, and I couldn’t fight him on this. I know we promised you--.”
“You promised that I wouldn’t be forced into a loveless arranged marriage where I would be an ornament for another man to bring out when it suited him. To be relegated to nothing but a soundless broodmare only good for one or two things. You swore it!” Her voice was quiet at first, but the last part was nearly a shout. “I won’t do it! I won’t marry now!” The very thought of it caused her throat to clench, and suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. In a very unladylike scramble, she turned away from him and nearly slipped in the soft grass as she rose. Her next movements were uncoordinated and graceless as she climbed onto Arya’s back and urged her from standing to galloping in mere seconds. Her father’s cries for her to come back were drowned out by the pounding of hooves. Golden fields were blurred in front of her by tears that had begun in her eyes. He promised. He did. He promised her that she could choose her own husband when she wished it.
The very idea of marriage had always been off putting to her. She had never really figured out why exactly, as most marriages that she had been exposed to were good. Her parents were near perfect as far as the love between them went and they had been arranged. No man had ever caught her eye, no suitor had swayed her with words or gestures. She feared that perhaps she was broken in some way or that perhaps she was different. But no girl had ever caught her eye either. Those feelings were just null.
And aside from that, she had no desire to be some pompous arrogant man’s broodmare and trinket to show off at parties and gatherings to ignore or put into a separate wing of the castle.
Her father’s words ha
d left her panicked in an unexplainable way. Her very essence rebelled against him.
The trees grew closer, and she pulled Arya back from her full tilt run. Arya’s sides heaved and a sheen of sweat darkened her white fur at the shoulder, and Emmaline felt a pang of guilt.
They entered the forest at a trot, and she was instantly enveloped by greenery and the sounds of the woods, birds chirping, insects moving, and the swish of the wind through the trees rustling the leaves and dispersing the shadows around them. Branches cracked and leaves crinkled and crumpled beneath Arya’s hooves as she now walked through them daintily.
Trees and green things had always served to calm Emmaline for some inexplicable reason. Whenever she was angry or upset, she would find herself at the foot of the oak tree that grew in the center of the castle’s garden. She would climb it and sit in the branches and feel the heartbeat of the wood, which was silly because wood wasn’t alive. But it was so warm, and she could spend hours locked away in the branches and sometimes she did, until they found her hiding spot.
Her heart was still pounding and her throat still felt clenched and raw from her panting, choking breaths, but her tears had dried now and the plants that surrounded her were soothing. She didn’t know where they were going but she was content to sit and let Arya lead the way. It wasn’t long until they reached a clearing with a small pond and a circle of mushrooms.
“A fairy ring!” She spoke aloud and winced as it sounded harsh to her sensitive ears. With some recovered grace, she slid down from her mount’s back and giggled as she rushed over to the circle on the ground like a child. A foot landed over the ring and she twirled around it before sitting down in the middle with a small noise of pain. It was a fairy ring, a place of magic, like in the stories that her parents had told her…
Her parents. The earlier feeling of panic edged at her heart, and she beat it back down. She would be auctioned off to whomever her grandfather received the most power from, and there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it. No. She could run away with Arya and live off the land like a wild ranger or a friend of the forest and then she wouldn’t have to marry anyone. Her life would be an adventure. Adventures always ended well in books, didn’t they?
She watched Arya plod slowly over to the pond and drink from the water there.
Her palms ghosted along the grass around her, and she looked down at it, pulling and stroking at it while her thoughts buzzed about her head. Would her parents let her marry someone who would hurt her? Or would they not let her be an active participant in her engagement? Her father had been so reluctant to tell her because he knew what her reaction would be. And all she had done was prove him right and ran away. Stupid little girl. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she ran away, or even where exactly she had run to. And still yet no idea how long she had been sitting here wallowing in her own thoughts of doom but it seemed like no time at all. Her father was probably looking for her, but his horse wasn’t half as fast as Arya.
Emmaline looked up at the trees now and opened her ears to the sounds around her...except there were none. No birds or insects or the movement of small creatures of the woods. It was silent save for the slight noise of the wind in the branches. When had it stopped? Had she been so engrossed in her own pitiful woes that she had completely tuned out her surroundings?
Her heart started to beat faster again for a different reason. A snort from her pale companion took her attention as the horse’s ears flicked forward and back and then danced away from the pool. Unease crept from the center of her chest outward, and she looked around, hoping to see something, anything that would cause her worries to cease, but that only made her more anxious. There was something here, and Emma did not have a weapon should she be attacked. She pushed her body up from the ground slowly while keeping her senses on high alert for the sound of a bowstring or unsheathing of a weapon of some kind. Even tired like she was, Arya could outrun bandits. But she still heard nothing and with a calm that belied her current state, she walked over to Arya and mounted her with a jump. Her horse turned around and started at a fast trot to get as far away from the clearing as she could as quickly as the terrain would allow.
Neither of them spotted the pair of eyes that watched from the shadows, and the sounds of the forest slowly returned to normal as they retreated.
Chapter 4
Although it seemed like the forest suddenly went on forever after leaving the clearing, her acute hearing started to pick up the rustle of underbrush and the twittering of birds as they hopped from branch to branch in search of food or company. Emmaline let out a sigh of relief and looked behind her just to be sure that someone wasn’t following her. She saw no one but couldn’t shake that eerie feeling of being watched. As she got closer to what she hoped was the end of the forest, she heard something that made her stomach drop.
Her father was shouting her name, and the sound of heavy hoofbeats nearly drowned out the call. She watched Arya’s ears flick back and forth at the sound and her rider urged her into a faster walk. Sunlight and golden tall grasses greeted her sight and she broke out from the brush much like a chicken from an egg. It only took a moment for her to spot her father as he raced toward her with his charger, and he looked half worried and half furious. She wondered which side she would receive first.
The wait was short as her father dismounted. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?!” His long legs reached her in two steps, and he was tall enough that he took her upper arms in his grip. “You shouldn’t go running off like that! You could have been hurt, attacked, or worse!”
“I…” she started but couldn’t finish.
“I thought you would have handled that better! I don’t understand your fear about this! Your friends have all married and most have already had their first child!”
“ I know…”
“You don’t know as much as you think you do, Emmaline. Now come.”
“I’m sorry, papa,” she told him meekly, feeling more ashamed now than she had. He was right. She should have handled that better. She was almost seventeen years old, an adult, and she should handle things like an adult. And she hated making her father worry. He already had things to worry about.
She watched him mount up and turn his horse back toward the village while Emma followed a half horse behind him. As they rode in silence, she thought back to that odd silence in the forest and what could have caused it. Trees and green things had always been her safe haven before, and that had made her feel violated.
“Father. Are there brigands in the woods?” She finally asked.
“Brigands? Did you see anything?” His tone was less irritable now.
“No. But I felt like I was being watched.”
“Hmmm. It was perhaps some sort of animal, but I will send out some patrols to make sure. I won’t have brigands in my lands.” He did not speak for a few more moments. “I apologize for being harsh with you earlier, but you scared me half to death when you ran off and by the time I was able to collect my wits enough to follow, you were too far away. Had you been gone a few minutes more, I would have gone into that little forest myself to find you, and you might have not enjoyed that alternative.”
“You were right, though. It was childish of me to run off like that. I should not have done so.”
“No, you should not have.” Her father turned and leveled a stare at her, then winked. “But we have both learned our lesson. I’ve learned that I should not give you any sort of news out in the open. From now on, news shall only be given in small rooms with only a door as an exit.”
“That’s unfair! What if I don’t like the news?”
“Well then I suppose you will have to take myself and your mother on to escape.”
“I’ll be too quick for you.”
“You can try.” He returned as they came ever closer to home. But across the field along the wide dirt packed road, she saw what looked like rather well off travelers.
“Father, are we expecting guest
s?”
“We are. And we should meet them at the gate.” Her father urged his charger on with a light kick, and Emmaline followed reluctantly. They looked almost like nobility, and within several lengths, she spotted the crest, two eagles clutching a ring on a field of red.
“The DeVross family? Really, Father?” She hissed under her breath. They were wealthy and knew it, and it always rankled her how they treated those who were “lesser” than them. She also knew they had two sons and three daughters, and only one of them had ever treated her as a friend instead of a gateway to more power.
“Niall DeVross!” Her father called out, either unhearing of her complaint or simply ignoring it. And the person in question lifted a hand in greeting.
“Gregor D’Terin, back from the Gathering already? And looking as robust as ever.” Niall DeVross was a shrewd looking individual with a sharp jaw and full cheeks making him look rather odd and offset most of the time. His dark hair was trimmed neatly close to his head, and even from this distance, Emmaline spotted the touch of grey in it. She spotted his firstborn son amongst the throng riding close to his father. He did not have the odd facial shape and beady eyes of his father and could even be described as handsome, if she didn’t already know that his looks were only skin deep.