The Heart Denied

The Heart Denied Page 42

by Wulf, Linda Anne

  The boy’s eyes followed. “You’re trespassing, you know.” He looked up to meet her gaze, color suddenly spotting his cheeks. “Whence did you come?”

  “The wheat field.” With a nod in that direction, she eyed the boy’s crooked nose, the one flaw in his otherwise perfect features. “You’re not one of the king’s men,” she ventured. “And this isn’t rents day. Are you not trespassing?”

  He looked startled. “By letter of the law, perhaps. But the king’s men are long gone. Stay here and I’ll fetch more water, your toe is bleeding.”

  Fianna barely glanced at the wound, instead watching the boy as he headed for the ridge again. Tall and wide-shouldered, he wore his dark hair queued at the nape like Darcy and Papa did, though tied with black grosgrain instead of a leather thong. She’d already noticed that his frock coat and breeches appeared more supple than Papa’s baize and buckskin, his shirt as fine a weave as the lace-trimmed cap in Mama’s little chest of keepsakes.

  Another shirt came to mind—one with lace-trimmed cuffs shoved to the elbows. “Do you know that man?” Fianna called after the boy, shuddering as she pictured the blue-skinned, fly-infested creature whose grave she might be sharing if her rescuer hadn’t come along. “Did you see what he was doing?”

  “No.” He stopped to turn a piercing stare on her. “Nor did you, if you wish to live out your natural life.”

  Tears blurred Fianna’s eyes as she watched him disappear behind the ridge. What wretched world had she stumbled into here? God’s cathedral, indeed! More likely the devil’s lair. This deep-forest gloom in no way resembled the lovely cathedral illustrations she had seen in Mama’s books.

  Wiping her eyes on a dirty sleeve, Fianna spied blood on her shift, mud on her stays and her outer petticoat. Thank Providence her skirt was saved for Sundays. Where her cap had gotten to was anyone’s guess. Mama would be cross. Papa would be angry, or pretend to be, to hide the fright Fianna had given them. Would he punish her when he learned what a fright she had endured? He would surely report to the manor lord what she had witnessed. Would they locate that poor woman and give her a Christian burial?

  Seeing the boy’s head come bobbing back over the ridgeline, Fianna swiped at her tears again, lifted her chin, and folded her hands in her lap.

  His expression softened as he approached, his cravat in hand, one end dripping. “I meant my warning kindly,” he said, “but it was no less a warning. Forget what you think you saw. Forget the man altogether. And stay away from Dinsmore Wood.” Kneeling beside her, he gave her a bleak smile. “You’re too pretty a girl to go missing.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks even as a chill coursed her spine at the word ‘missing’; no one had ever told her she was pretty. Tall, yes, and reedy, but never pretty. She watched in consternation as the boy gently swabbed her dirty toe with the wet end of his cravat.

  He ignored her protest, tearing a strip off the dry end and winding it about her toe. “Done,” he said, tying it off with a knot. “Let’s see you stand.” Rising, he offered his hand.

  She gave him hers without hesitation, and was lifted easily to her feet. “The man,” she blurted, feeling oddly breathless but anxious to confide. “He was digging—”

  “Hush.” The boy laid a finger against Fianna’s lips. “Digging,” he murmured, holding his gaze steady on hers, “is not a crime.” Slowly, he brought the same finger to his own lips.

  “You were there,” she whispered, her eyes widening as she remembered the sound of a snapping twig. “Not a stone’s throw from me. You saw the woman, too—”

  “Fianna?” The shout was faint but wonderfully familiar.

  “Papa!” she called back.

  “Where are you, child?”

  “Here, Papa, over the ridge!” She swallowed a lump of relief and squeezed the hand still holding hers. “Papa will lead us out of here. He travels this wood monthly to pay rent.”

  “I know my way home,” the boy assured Fianna quickly, then added at her doubtful frown, “You needn’t worry, I shall be perfectly safe.”

  She shyly pumped his hand once. “Thank you ever so much for coming to my rescue. I shan’t ever forget it.”

  He ended her handshake by tightening his grip. “What you mustn’t forget,” he said in a low voice, “is my warning. Not a word to anyone about what happened today.”

  Fianna couldn’t believe her ears. “But…but I must tell Papa!”

  “Tell no one. Especially your Papa. Unless you wish him harm as well.”

  The boy’s quiet urgency terrified her. Papa, come to harm on her account? Never! Tears rising again, she wrested her hand away, but he caught it in his again.

  “I must have your word—Fianna, is it? Will this be our secret? Please,” he said, his eyes entreating hers. “I’ve more here at stake than you. Much more.”

  She stared into those eyes—deep gray, but flecked with amber, like sunshine struggling to burst through storm clouds—and knew suddenly that she would protect this young man as fiercely as she would Papa.

  “Aye,” she whispered. “Our secret.” Silently, she made another vow—that she would pray every night for someone to find the woman, and for the man to be caught and punished.

  The boy swallowed hard and then nodded. “I shall depend on your word. Thank you, Fianna, a thousand times over.”

  He dropped her hand at a thrashing sound in the reeds.

  “Fianna?” Papa’s call floated over the ridge.

  “Coming!” Steeling herself for the worst scolding of her life, she started up the rise to meet her father, but then turned around with a tentative smile. “Won’t you tell me your name, since you know mi—”

  Her smile froze, then faded away.

  Her hero—whose scrap of cravat she quickly wrenched from her toe and hid inside her stays—was nowhere to be seen.

  Samples of Other Hydra Titles

  Andraste by Marisa Mills

  Chapter 1

  Andraste sat whittling on the battlements, overlooking the thick forests of Nymphia. The elf flicked her ears back. All elves could move their ears-similar to the way cats do, in order to better perceive sounds, and Andraste was no exception. The sharp footfalls confirmed that someone was coming, and from how loud they were, Andraste had a feeling she knew who. Turning back to the piece of wood in her hand, she began carving again.

  “Andraste, I know you’re up there! I’m not that blind.”

  Andraste knew that voice well; the bards would probably liken it to that of a nightingale. That’s Radiance. Curses!

  Radiance came to stand beside her on the battlements. The elf’s curly red hair blew in her face as she stood with her hands on her hips. Andraste stood, too, her brown and silver hair flying in her face, and she tried to shove it away from her eyes. Radiance looked at her with her brownish-green eyes and that smug look she had in her left eye. It was the “I’m not letting you get out of this” look. Her right eye was blind, and she usually took care to cover it with her bangs to keep people from asking why it looked the way it did, but the wind was blowing too hard for that to work. Instead, her hair flew all over the place, like autumn leaves did in the wind. Actually, her hair was almost the color of autumn leaves when Andraste thought about it. Or maybe copper was a better comparison. “Andraste, you’re up here whittling.”

  Andraste shrugged, glancing at her half-finished phoenix before tossing the wood away. Someone else-most likely one of the guards-would probably pick it up and finish it later. “Your power of observation is incredible,” she replied.

  “Don’t be so sarcastic. Aunt Xandrina says that’s a teenager thing, and you’re not quite there yet.”

  “Two more years.”

  “Well, Xandrina says we need to get ready for the party tonight,” Radiance stated. “And she told me to come find you.”

  “I can’t pretend to be sick?”

  Radiance laughed. “No, you were s
ick at the last one. I don’t know why you hate these parties so much.”

  “Oh, yes,” Andraste ranted sarcastically as they walked down the battlements. “Because listening to a foreign dignitary drone on and on is so fascinating.”

  Radiance laughed again, a high-pitched sound that made Andraste mentally wince. Radiance’s voice might be like a nightingale, but her laugh was more like a mockingbird. “Oh, come on! Every male that comes has his eye on the famous Warrior Princess Andraste and her ‘intense amethyst eyes’.”

  Andraste blushed. “Wasn’t that Lord Vigilance who said that? If I remember correctly, I dumped a glass of wine over his head.”

  Radiance nodded. “Yes, you did, and I was busy talking to the Prince of Invaria, who was very fair, I’ll have you know. He looked slender with hair the color of wheat during the harvest and eyes like copper.”

  The two were almost at the palace entrance. Radiance reached a hand out before they were even at the door, and Andraste pursed her lips. It was small signs like that that showed Andraste the flaws in her cousin’s eye sight. Radiance half-smiled and took a step forward before her fingers brushed the door. “That arrow did a job on my vision, didn’t it?” she asked. “I envy Brilliance; she’s still beautiful.”

  “It’s just a small flaw in your vision,” Andraste said.

  “Well, I have plenty of beauty to compensate for that, but still… I wish both my eyes at least looked the same,” Radiance said.

  “Narcissist,” Andraste teased.

  Radiance scowled at her. Andraste pushed the door open and entered the palace behind her. “Radiance…you know Aunt Xandrina would dismiss you from the warriors if you desired that, don’t you?”

  “And?”

  “Well…I mean, it’s a very small flaw in your vision, but you’d never have to fight again. Wouldn’t that make you happy?”

  Her cousin shook her head. “I might be half-blind, but I’m still a Nymphian, Andraste.”

  Andraste privately thought that ‘being a Nymphian’ was a poor excuse, but she understood what Radiance meant. “So-o,” Radiance said, dragging out the word longer than necessary. “I was looking at the guest list.”

  “Oh no,” Andraste replied, suddenly focusing her attention on the embroidery of a tapestry. “The weavers did a good job on this, didn’t they?”

  “I thought you might want to know Luminous is sending representatives.”

  “Are they really?” Andraste asked, her ears tilting back. “Who are they sending? Is my mother coming?”

  Radiance shook her head. “I’m sorry, Andraste. It’s an ambassador of theirs.”

  “Oh.”

  An elf in a silver gown came around the corner, her brown hair arranged into large curls atop her head. The woman walked gracefully with her head up in traditional, regal arrogance. Her steel-blue eyes looked vaguely distant as she spoke to the shorter elf beside her. “All right, as long as we have enough. That is all that matters-Andraste! Great, I was looking for you!”

  “Radiance told me,” Andraste mumbled.

  The elf sighed. “Dear, you need to get ready. It’s your duty.”

  “I know, but I don’t have to like it being my duty,” Andraste replied. “It’s just boring!”

  “Oh, Guardians, I know!” the elf agreed, throwing her arms in the air in a very un-queen like manner. “How do you think I feel having someone ask me every few seconds how the war is going, or if he can court you, or if I’m looking for a new mate? Oh, and do not forget those… those pompous Glishian representatives! All they talk about is their wine. It’s not even that good, and they treat it like it is some gift from Oishea herself!”

  Andraste sighed. She has a point, the elf thought. “Do I have to wear a gown?”

  The elf half-smiled. “Yes, you do. Ebhlin sewed it just for you, Andraste. Radiance has one, too.”

  “Yes!” Radiance squealed. “Yes, yes, yes! Thanks, Aunt Xandrina.”

  Xandrina nodded. “You’re welcome. Now, I have to go and be sure everything is perfect-even though we all know there will be a mistake of some sort. There always is. Oh, I have to find Ebhlin, too! I’ll send her your way.” The elf bustled down the hallway, stopping next to another elf. “Ah! Aisling, I was looking for you.”

  “Maybe she’ll forget about Ebhlin,” Andraste remarked.

  “I doubt it,” Radiance replied. “I’m sorry, Lady.”

  “No you’re not, Bard,” Andraste shot back. “I wonder if it’s too late for me to come down with a sudden sickness. Maybe Irethel will take pity on me.”

  “Now what fun is that?” Radiance asked. “I’ll only enjoy myself if you go. Besides, who will I talk to if you aren’t there?”

  “The Prince of Oceania, I guess.”

  Radiance blushed. “There was nothing between us.”

  “Mm… hm. Your sister said differently; she was very disapproving about the whole thing. She says you’re too young.” Radiance punched the elf in the shoulder, and Andraste hissed. “Ow! That one hurt, Bard! I took the end of a spear shaft there yesterday!”

  The elf smirked. “It serves you right, Lady.”

  Radiance laughed as Andraste rubbed her shoulder. “Well, do you want to go to the library and wait?”

  “You’re just trying to avoid Ebhlin,” Radiance said.

  “Lady!” someone interrupted.

  “Oh Guardians,” Andraste muttered as another elf approached them.

  “Hello, Seamstress!” Radiance exclaimed.

  Andraste glowered at the elf before turning her attention back to the tailor, Ebhlin, who nodded. “Guardians, Lady! Queen Xandrina has requested you begin getting ready.”

  “Do we really have to get dressed already?” Andraste asked.

  “Well,” Ebhlin replied, “she wants you to look very nice tonight, and she’s getting me to make your hair look nice, too.”

  “What?” Andraste asked.

  Ebhlin nodded. “Have you ever done someone’s hair before?” Andraste asked. “Isn’t that usually what Grace does?”

  “Yes, she did Brilliance’s hair one year,” Radiance said, “and it looked simply amazing!”

  “Yes, yes; now come on! I need to get you your dresses!”

  The elves followed Ebhlin, and Andraste sighed at Radiance’s excited mood. She practically bounced as she waited. “Here we are,” Ebhlin said, opening a chest when they finally arrived in the sewing room. “Andraste, yours is scarlet; Radiance, yours is blue.”

  “It’s beautiful!” Radiance proclaimed, smiling brightly. “Yours is, too, Andraste! It’ll look wonderful with your lavender eyes.”

  Andraste nodded dully. “It will look wonderful if I can get in it! This skirt is impossible!”

  “Oh, Lady, you’ll be fine,” Ebhlin said, narrowing her blue eyes at the younger elf. “It’s a new style I’ve been modifying. I hear everyone dresses like that in western Nymphia, and it is supposed to impress the Lord and Lady of the Haerans.”

  “Fabulous,” Andraste muttered.

  “Now go, go! You need to get dressed quickly!”

  Ebhlin ushered the elves out into the hallway, and Andraste and Radiance walked back to their rooms. “I’ll see you at sunset!” Radiance exclaimed, holding her dress tightly against her chest, as if it would simply vanish at any moment. “You’ll meet me out here, right?”

  “Sure,” Andraste replied.

  The bard gave the princess a quick one-armed hug before rushing int
o her room. “Radiance, you’re my best friend,” Andraste muttered, “but sometimes I just want to kill you.”

  ***

  She sighed. I just knew there would be a huge skirt involved. I knew it.

  Andraste finally managed to pull the dress on and lace up the front. Then, someone knocked on her door, and Andraste groaned. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Ebhlin!”

  “Come in then!”

  When the elf entered the room, Andraste rolled her eyes. “Who in their right mind designed this dress? I feel like I’m drowning in fabric from my waist down!”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Ebhlin said, “but everyone in western Nymphia is dressing like that now. Besides, I heard from Queen Xandrina we are having some guests tonight-and not the usual ones. Apparently, the king and queen of Firelapsia are coming.”

  “So?” Andraste asked.

  Ebhlin sighed and began unlacing and then lacing the front of the dress, so it looked better. “You should be nice. Firelapsia is a very powerful nation. Their human prince is also currently looking for a mate. He’s only a few years older than you-”

  “That’s tight!” Andraste interrupted.

  Ebhlin ignored her and continued. “So this could be a good opportunity for you. Sit!”

  Andraste sat, feeling a little uncomfortable, and Ebhlin began unbraiding her hair. “Are you going to do mine like Xandrina’s is?” Andraste asked, thinking that if she was going to this party, she might as well look her best.

  “No, your hair is just far too short. You ought to let it grow out some. Oh, I know, I know. You say it interferes with fighting. But it’s just so short.”

  “It’s not too short. It stops just below my shoulder blades.”

  “Radiance has waist-length hair.”

  “Well, that’s Radiance. Do you have that pin the traders brought? The one with the rubies in it?”

  “I do, and we’ll get to that later. I didn’t have this problem with Radiance.”

  “Well, who else is coming?” Andraste asked, hoping to distract Ebhlin from complaining about her hair.

 

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