Sitnalta (Sitnalta Series Book 1)

by Alisse Lee Goldenberg

  He sat and watched her, eyes twinkling with amusement. Aud leapt from her seat and curtsied clumsily. She began frantically fumbling around on the floor anxiously searching for her discarded shoes.

  “I am so sorry, Sire,” she stammered. “I had no idea. I thought that—I mean I—the room looked empty and . . .”

  “You need not apologize, my good lady.” King Gerald smiled warmly at Aud, and much to her chagrin, she found herself blushing furiously to the roots of her white hair. “You were obviously exhausted,” he continued. “Please sit.”

  “No. I couldn’t possibly . . .”

  “Nonsense. You were looking quite comfortable in that chair. Sit.”

  “Sire, I could not . . .” Aud was getting very flustered. She was looking desperately for a way to extricate herself from the situation.

  “Do not make me command you.”

  King Gerald was grinning at her. Aud felt as if he was mocking her with every word. She did not know how to respond to him, except to offer him a small smile. Then she sat.

  “Thank you, Sire.” Aud hesitated a moment, and then asked, “Why did you laugh?”

  King Gerald gave her the same chuckle that had startled her previously, then answered. “I am sorry I scared you. I did not mean to. It is just that everyone around here has been so uptight this past while. Yours was the first unbridled display of honest satisfaction I have seen in this place since I have arrived. Forgive me, but it amused me. I do not know what came over me . . .”

  Aud smiled warmly at the now uncomfortable man. The tables had turned. Then she paused and decided to take a chance.

  “Sire, about the tension in the castle—do you know what is going on?” she asked him.

  King Gerald was astounded. “You mean to tell me you do not know. Why, the Princess has disappeared!”

  Aud rolled her eyes in what she hoped was a discreet manner.

  “No,” she said. “I knew that part.” She hesitated. “The Princess Sitnalta, she—I was—I guess you could say I was her governess. I raised her from birth.”

  “You?”

  King Gerald was surprised. It wasn’t uncommon for royal children to be taken care of by teachers and governesses, but to hear a governess claim to have independently raised a princess was odd.

  “But what about her father?” he ventured, hoping for clarification.

  Aud looked away so that King Gerald would not see the contempt in her face at the mention of Supmylo. But her effort was futile. King Gerald could see something was not right.

  He sighed. “Alright. Let me guess. You wish to know what is being done to find the Princess.” He hoped that her discomfort and odd manner was just due to her being worried about the girl.

  Aud looked at him hopefully. “You know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me,” Aud said eagerly.

  “King Supmylo has sent the new captain out looking everywhere for her—both likely and otherwise. All of the troops are at his disposal. I myself have volunteered whatever I can.”

  Aud’s face fell. With such a number of men out there, Sitnalta’s chances seemed grim. King Gerald noticed her reaction to his news.

  “You do not think this is enough?” he asked.

  This woman intrigued him. She claimed to have raised the Princess from birth, and gave every indication of genuinely caring for the young girl. And yet, when he told her that every soldier from Colonodona’s forces—coupled with his own men—would be doing all they could to find Sitnalta, she appeared disheartened.

  “No. It’s not that. It’s just . . .” Aud stopped herself before she said too much. She must be careful. One wrong step could very possibly mean her head if this conversation got to Supmylo.

  “I should think you would want the Princess found,” King Gerald tried.

  “Of course!” She hoped her enthusiasm sounded genuine.

  “King Supmylo has not discounted the possibility that she did not, in fact, run away. She may have been kidnapped,” he ventured.

  A sharp bark of a laugh escaped Aud’s lips. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. Now she was in for it! She started to sweat. All of a sudden, the smallness of the room seemed oppressive instead of homey.

  King Gerald leapt onto her reaction. “You do not think it possible. You disagree.”

  Aud just looked away. She started to squirm. King Gerald reached beside him. A tray with a carafe of brandy and some extra glasses sat on a little table beside his chair. He picked up the carafe, filled an empty snifter, and leaned forward to hand it to Aud.

  “Tell me what you know,” he said.

  Aud ignored him and the offered drink.

  He thrust it forward again. “Please,” he said softly. Aud looked at him. Even in the firelight, with his face partly hidden by shadow, Aud could see the genuine concern on his features. She sighed and reached for the glass. As she took it, her fingers brushed against his. Involuntarily she noted the softness of his skin. She realized that if she truly wanted to help Sitnalta, she could not do it alone. She needed an ally. She would have to trust him.

  “Okay,” she said, and she told him everything, from Sitnalta’s birth to the discovery of the letter on Sitnalta’s bedroom floor. Once started, it all poured out of her. Everything she had been keeping inside for years. When she had finished, it was hours later. The brandy was gone. Aud was emotionally drained. King Gerald’s mind was made up. This woman had won his undying loyalty and admiration. Aud had her ally.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sitnalta came into the glen with a basket full of apples. She was skipping happily with a healthy glow in her cheeks. Najort smiled at her appearance. He had made a stew for their dinner and had been wondering where she had gone. She rarely told him where she was going, just announced her departure with a shout of “See you soon,” or “Goodbye!” The first time he had been worried, but now he had grown used to it. He just wrote it off as Sitnalta being Sitnalta.

  He did not know much about her life before she had come to the forest. From what he could discern, she had not had much freedom (for which she was overcompensating, in his humble opinion). He could tell she had been wealthy. What clothes she had with her were exquisitely made, and of the finest materials. She spoke occasionally of a woman named Aud. But how the two were connected he did not know, and she did not tell.

  The first time Najort had tried to find out more about Sitnalta’s past she had looked at him sullenly, and responded curtly that she did not want to talk about it. She had then changed the subject. The second time he’d asked, she’d gone off on a longwinded, highly unlikely narrative. She’d spoken about how she’d lived in a seaside village, where she was the daughter of wealthy textile merchants. One day, hordes of pirates came and attacked the village, brutally and bloodthirstily slaughtering everything that moved. Naturally, she’d grabbed her father’s sword from his lifeless fingers and had fought her way out. She realized that she was the only survivor. She did not want to live in a ghost town, so she’d come to take up residence in the forest. Her father’s sword had been discarded on the way. Consequently, Najort had decided to not ask her again. He figured she would come to tell him the truth in her own time.

  Three weeks had passed since they’d met, and besides her somewhat cryptic past, Najort knew all about Sitnalta—her likes, her dislikes, her dreams, and her aspirations. Sitnalta was, as well, an expert in all things Najort. Apart from her habit of disappearing, things between them could not be better. Najort had become for Sitnalta all that Supmylo never was.

  That evening, Sitnalta appeared and put her basket down on the ground by the cooking fire. She regarded Najort with a grin, a crown of daisies perched precariously on her head.

  “There!” she said proudly.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I collected apples for us—wonderful ones too. I took the liberty of tasting them on the way back, and they are quite delicious. They’re stunning apples, and I checked each and every one before putti
ng them into my basket.”

  Najort shook his head amused. “When you said you tasted them, you mean what exactly?”

  “I ate four,” Sitnalta admitted sheepishly.

  Najort laughed. “And will you have room for the dinner I made us?” He pretended to be annoyed with her.

  “Of course! I am always hungry for your food!” cried Sitnalta, throwing herself down onto the ground. She crossed her legs and looked up at Najort expectantly, the picture of a hungry child.

  Najort stirred the stew once more then went over to the basket Sitnalta had brought. The apples truly were beautiful. Flawless and ruby red, they begged to be eaten, although Sitnalta had picked enough to feed a herd of hungry trolls and princesses for a month.

  “Where did you find these?” he asked.

  “Beautiful. Right?” Sitnalta was pleased her apples had gotten a reaction. “I climbed to the very tops of the trees to get them. They are so much nicer up there.”

  Najort gave her a bewildered look. “You climbed?”

  “Yes. Aud always said I was part monkey. She was always scolding me for getting dirty when I would climb . . .” Sitnalta trailed off, and Najort could see her face take on a wistful far away expression.

  “You miss her.”

  Sitnalta nodded. “I worry about her too.”

  “Why?”

  Sitnalta shook her head. Her jaw clenched. Najort could see that he pressed too far after promising himself he would not. He mentally kicked himself. He walked over to the cave and returned with two wooden bowls and spoons. He divided the stew between them and handed Sitnalta a bowl. The sun was beginning to set, making the sky rosy. Soon, their only light would be from the cooking fire.

  Najort walked over to the basket and took an apple to eat with his dinner. Walking back, he took a bite out of it. Sitnalta had been right. It was wonderful. Tart, tangy, and full of juice. He polished it off in three bites, spitting the pips onto the ground. He had never tasted an apple so fresh. He looked over at Sitnalta to tell her so and sighed. She was just sitting, listlessly pushing her stew around her bowl with the spoon. Not a trace of the appetite she had boasted about not long before. Najort sat down across from her and gave her what he hoped was a comforting look. She looked up at him.

  “I ran away from home,” Sitnalta spoke. Her voice was hollow.

  Najort just nodded in response, waiting for her to continue, hoping she would, but apprehensive she would not.

  “My father was going to marry me off to an old man to further his political goals. I would not stand for it, so I ran away.”

  She was clear and concise. No embellishments. Sitnalta looked at Najort expectantly. He said nothing.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Well, what?”

  “No questions?” Sitnalta was surprised.

  “Yes, of course I have questions. I just wonder—what will you answer?”

  Sitnalta shrugged.

  Najort decided to try his luck. “Who is Aud?” he asked carefully.

  Sitnalta looked at her uneaten stew. “Aud. I guess you could say she was my governess,” she slowly replied. She looked up. “But she was so much more than that. She raised me—taught me everything. She loved me.” She closed her eyes tightly. “I miss her.” She opened her eyes again. They were glassy with tears. “She gave birth to me.”

  Najort was confused. “She was your mother?”

  Sitnalta shook her head. “No. She was my mother’s midwife.”

  Najort was unsure of whether he should ask his next question. He decided to anyway. “Your mother . . .”

  “Is dead,” she finished the sentence. The tears began to fall. Twin trickles slowly wound their way down her cheeks. “She died giving birth to me.”

  Najort wanted to go to her—comfort her. He could not bear seeing her like this. He eased his way over to her until he was right beside her. But he did not touch her.

  “Your father . . .” he began. Najort was unsure if it would hurt her even more to talk about her father, but he could not help it. He was curious.

  Sitnalta snapped her head around to look him in the eyes. “I hate him!” she spat out vehemently. The tears were falling steadily now. “I feared him my whole life! Oh! I refuse to do so anymore. I can’t. I just can’t. He never cared for me. Never! Sometimes I could swear that he hated me too. I know he did. But I don’t care. Not anymore. I learned that—that . . .” She broke off into hiccoughing sobs.

  “You learned what, Sitnalta?” Najort gently coaxed.

  “He hated my mother,” Sitnalta said softly. “She never cared for him either, but she did not hate him like he did her. She could never hate others, no matter what anybody did to her. She only married my father because her father told her to. She was always miserable afterwards. I promised myself I would never end up like that, so . . .” She looked at Najort helplessly. He looked so understanding. Sitnalta had never known anybody who could look that way. She continued, “That was her gift, Najort. A person could do the most horrid things to her, but she would not hate them for it. She was wonderful—a truly pure soul—never tainted with hate. That’s what Aud told me—my mother was never tainted with hate. But I am. You see? I hate my father. I failed her. I failed my mother completely because of that.”

  Sitnalta began to cry in earnest now. She crept closer to Najort until she had crawled into his lap. He held her close, her body wracked with shuddering sobs. He feared she was coming apart in his arms.

  “No, no,” he told her. “You did not fail her. You may feel you hate him now. You are angry with him—this is true. You have every right to be. You are just confused. The anger is fresh. Give it time. This feeling will go away. I do not believe you truly hate him. You are too good for that. The hatred would have consumed you long ago if it were really there.”

  He felt useless. Helpless. He did not know if his words had gotten through to her, or even if she had been listening at all.

  Sitnalta cried on. Najort just sat there now, rocking her gently. She cried as if years of pent-up sadness and frustration had finally found their release. All Najort could do now was to sit and wait for it to subside.

  The sun had been set for hours before Sitnalta calmed down. Najort’s legs had fallen asleep, and his arms were threatening to do the same. Sitnalta still sat nestled in his lap. He could not get up or even shift position without disturbing her. He feared she had fallen asleep. Suddenly she stirred.

  “Did you mean what you said?” she asked, her voice hoarse from crying. She sniffed lightly.

  “Hmmm?” was all Najort could say. Her voice had surprised him. He tried to think back to what he had said to her.

  “About me not hating my father,” she clarified.

  “Every word,” he told her honestly.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to him.

  Sitnalta got up and walked to the cave. Najort’s various limbs cried out in relief, as numbness was replaced by pins and needles. He would follow soon and get some much-needed sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Morning dawned, and filled Aud with the first ounce of hope she’d known since before Sitnalta had run away. She and King Gerald had talked well into the night trying to come up with some form of plan. Aud had not had any idea of what to do. The very notion of trying to prevent King Supmylo from achieving his goal was ludicrous at best. When Supmylo got it into his head to do something, he did it. Everyone else be damned! The man was possessed. Aud had felt hopeless in the face of such determination. However, she soon discovered that determination was one of the few things that King Gerald had in common with Supmylo. The higher the odds, the more dedicated and tenacious he became, and Aud was grateful to have such a man on her side.

  She went over the plan they’d come up with. She scowled. No matter how good it had sounded the night before, now, in the light of day, it seemed foolish. It would never work. Their plan relied on so many small factors going right, and on pure dumb luck. Luck was not something to be had
in abundance these days. She did not like this one bit.

  Aud shook her head, walked over to her washbasin, and splashed cold water on her face. The cold did her good. Her mind cleared. She went over to her mirror and began to study herself. She turned her head this way and that, looking at every line, every spot. It was a fine face, she decided. Her lines around her mouth had been etched there by years of laughter with Sitnalta. Her fine wrinkles at the corners of the eyes were the result of smiling at the Princess’s shenanigans. She would not trade even one of them for a more youthful look. She had character.

  Aud found herself smiling as she put her hair up into a tight bun. She stopped midway, shocked at herself. Why all this concern over her appearance all of a sudden, especially given the present situation? She pulled on a brown gingham dress, and smoothed out her skirt, as she slipped on a pair of shoes. She grabbed her customary white apron and tied it as she walked over to the door. She exited the room and made her way to breakfast with the other castle servants.

  Noon came and found Aud standing in the library. She walked around the shelf-lined walls in the guise of searching for a book. Since Sitnalta’s disappearance, no one questioned her having an excess of spare time on her hands. She picked up a heavy volume with a soft green leather cover, and walked over to the chair she’d occupied the night before. King Gerald was also seated as before in the same large armchair. The brandy snifter in his hand was replaced with a delicate china teacup, steam curling out the top.

  “Well?” Aud asked once she was comfortably seated.

  “It is done,” replied King Gerald. He sipped his tea. “Care for a cup?” He gestured to a tea tray standing by his chair on spindly legs. It was filled with all the necessary accessories needed for a proper cup of tea.

  “I would love a cup,” Aud answered. “Black, one sugar.”

  King Gerald prepared Aud’s tea and reached over to hand it to her. He sat back and watched her take a sip.

  “Perfect,” she said smiling at him.