by Jeff Wheeler
“But she has been held at Pent Tower where even the butler’s costume is finer than yours. It is beneath your dignity.”
The Prince smiled tolerantly and waited as the muffled sound of feet quickly approached the door. Kieran retreated into the shadows again, becoming as inconspicuous as a page. He was young, even for an Evnissyen.
The door opened and the Aldermaston entered again, bringing the guests with him. The king showed his years well, and Alluwyn nodded to him deferentially. His blond hair was well silvered, but it belied a ruthless jut to the chin and penetrating green eyes. His presence reeked of hetaera. The Prince could see their influence on his countenance as marked as any blemish. Rather than exuding light, he seemed to swallow it – every aspect of him was like a vortex, dragging all cheer and brightness and joy from the room. His presence caused a ripple of doom to spread across the opening. The Prince saw the necklace chained around his throat and knew it was a kystrel.
“We meet again, great king of Comoros,” the Prince said with a bow.
“Well met, Alluwyn Lleu-Iselin,” the king answered in a throaty, raspy-like voice. “King of Pry-Ree for now. May I introduce my fair cousin, Lady Elle Demont.”
As the king stepped away, the Prince was unprepared for the reaction the sight of her would bring. His emotions welled like a flood. She had her daughter’s face – the face that had haunted him in dreams and visions for years, the ghost that walked through life near him, whispering of what was to come. The mother and the daughter were distinctive, beautiful, and for a moment he could only see his visions until tears swam and he lost his composure. Summoning his strength, he subdued his feelings, but there was no hiding the wet lashes from the king.
“The Aldermaston will perform the ceremony straightaway in the Abbey itself. You are both mastons and I am not, so I cannot accompany you inside the sanctuary. You may not believe it, but I do not seek your death, Lord Iselin. I seek peace between our kingdoms. In that vein, I suggest a truce to be consummated with this marriage. There will be no incursions into Pry-Ree for five years. In exchange, you will agree that henceforth there will no longer be three kings in your domain. There shall be one ruler. With my cousin at your side, you will do well. Do we have an agreement?”
The Prince stared at the king’s audacity, at his interference with Pry-rian custom. It was not for the king of Comoros to decide the balance of political power within Pry-Ree. But the Prince was wise enough to realize that if he refused the request, his wife would be returned to her prison at Pent Tower.
“The nobles of Pry-Ree will balk at this arrangement,” the Prince said, doing his best to keep the emotion from his voice.
“But surely you can manage it?” the king replied smugly, his eyes probing and earnest. “What other choice do you have?”
“Indeed,” the Prince replied flatly. He saw the situation as it really was. With only one king to rule the entire kingdom, it would undermine the ambitions of the realm. Rather than co-ruling, others would expect greater favors and privileges. It would also mean jealousy as those who craved the right to rule would be tempted to do away with the Prince. So much easier to overthrow a smaller kingdom when it is squabbling internally amongst itself.
“Shall we ready the ceremony?” the Aldermaston suggested. “To acknowledge, of course, the secret marriage you conducted earlier. Shall we go down, my Lord Iselin?”
“May I speak with my wife before giving you our answer?” the prince asked.
The king looked startled and then shrugged. “We will await you without then. Come, Aldermaston. Let us retire to another chamber.”
The door shut softly behind them.
There was a pause, a moment when they looked at each other, unspoken words passing between them in a rush. Before the Prince knew it, the girl was on her knees in front of him, head bowed submissively. “Forgive me, my lord. I have been a burden to you. I did not know my cousin would place those demands on you. I knew none of it. I am ill to think what harm this will bring to you and your kingdom. If we must delay, I will bear it. If we must part…”
The Prince knelt in front of her and took her hands, smiling through his tears. “No. Hush your fears…I will not be parted from you so soon.” He squeezed her hands and stared deep into her eyes. “You will not spend another day in a Comoros prison. You are the lady of Pry-Ree. You are our rightful queen. I will pay whatever ransom to secure you.”
She seemed not to comprehend his words. Tears fell from her lashes, but her look was confusion. “How can this be? I know who I am. My father was murdered on the field of battle by my cousin, the king. My mother and I have been outcasts in Dahomey since that time. I was raised in a poor Abbey in a poor province. I bring you no wealth, no lands, no position. And because I am a Demont, you incur the king’s enmity. All of this is due to a promise you made long ago to my father. I am a burden to you in every possible way. If it would help your kingdom to send me back to Pent Tower, I will face it. Think of your people, my lord. Think on the burdens they must bear if the king gets his will concerning Pry-Ree.”
Very slowly, deliberately, the Prince kissed her hand. He stood and pulled her up with him. “You are mistaken. As I look at you now, I see a prize worth having. A prize worth any wait. It is not because of lands or coins or promises that I desired to marry you. It was not even because of your lord father, though he was my ally and my friend.” He escorted her to the window and parted the curtain. “Do you see the mountains? Those are the Myniths of Pry-Ree. They are treacherous to cross. Wedged deep inside is another Abbey – a small Abbey known as Tintern. That is where I passed the maston test, just as you passed yours at Montargis. It is not the size of the Abbey that matters. It is the strength of conviction. When I spoke to your father of marrying, you were but thirteen. I knew that you were not ready then, for you were too young. Since the troubles of your family, I have watched and observed you from afar. I have observed you through the Gift of Seering, which I possess.” He pressed her hands in between his own. “It was not by chance that you traveled by ship to Pry-Ree and were captured. You are a maston, Elle. If I had communicated the Abbey where to meet me, you could have crossed the Apse Veil immediately. Your years in prison were a proving ground – do you understand? The Medium must prove us before it trusts us. It must prove us that we will be faithful, no matter the temptation. Only through the greatest sacrifices are the greatest powers of the Medium unleashed.” He paused and carefully brushed a strand of hair from her temple. “I was willing to wait to have someone like you. Someone who has passed every test, has remained constant and true. Being trapped in the tower would have broken the spirit of others, but it did not break yours. You were firm and resolute. I see it burning in your eyes. Your desire was never for yourself. Sweet lady, you are my equal in every way that matters most. That is who I wanted to marry. That is who I swore I would cherish. By irrevocare sigil, it is done. You have sacrificed enough for now. Of this I am certain – you will not leave this place with anyone other than myself. We will cross the Myniths, you and I. There are trees taller than any you can imagine. Giant husks of trees that are fallen and burned out by fire. There are waterfalls beyond imagining. There were fords and coves where the waves obey any who hold the rank of maston. We will see them all together. There is much I have to share with you.”
The girl’s eyes were wet and she hugged the Prince fiercely, protectively, and sobbed against his shoulder. He held her, pressing her close, smelling the scent of purple mint in her hair. He was grateful she could not see his face, at the storm of emotions that raged across his features as he clutched her. He had loved her since she was a child, loved her in abstraction for who she would become and his knowledge of what her character would be as a result of all her suffering. But squeezing this woman, this woman of flesh and blood, was deeper than an abstraction. He could already feel his heart throbbing with joy as well as looming sadness. What a contrast, he mused silently, loving the woman so strongly who would break your h
eart with her impending death. The pain of the thought was exquisite, a deep poignant shard that penetrated to his soul. The tighter she clung to him, the deeper the burr stabbed him.
When she had recovered from her tears, she pulled away and looked up at him, relief shining in her wet eyes.
“You were worried I would abandon you,” he said hoarsely, collecting a tear from her chin.
She shook her head. “No. I was more worried that I had heard the whisperings of the Medium incorrectly. I am relieved that I hearkened to them. That I trusted them.”
He smiled. “Well…I will offer you what relief that I can. You have suffered the ill will and opinion of the world long enough. When you leave Leigh Abbey, you will not return to Comoros again. You will spend the rest of your days in Pry-Ree, a queen-maston. It has been several generations since our people had one.” He cocked his head to the side, drinking in her face, her expression, the light he saw emanating from her countenance. The insidious whispers that she and her mother were hetaera were almost amusing if not so insulting. He would not see any marks of tattoos on her skin, or a brand on her shoulder to know the truth. Her very countenance radiated warmth and light and liveliness.
He was thoughtful as he asked her, “Do you know how they pronounce this Abbey in Pry-rian?”
She nodded confidently. “I do – for I have studied your mother tongue since I was thirteen. It sounds similar, but there is a different inflection. They would call it ‘Lia.’”
The Prince smiled as he felt the barb stab even deeper. “A beautiful name.”
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE:
Hillel
Lia was asleep almost before her head rested against the cushion of the pallet in the loft, and she slept deeply. The weariness had seeped into her bones and with little more than a flittering thought at Colvin, just lingering on the memory of his smile and the forcefulness of his arms wrapped around her, she slept and did not stir until Martin crept up the ladder and shook her shoulder. For a moment, everything was a blur, her mind still lost in the fog of sleep, his face foreign with the crisscross of tattoos, almost menacing. She blinked rapidly, hungering for more rest, but she noticed the slant of the light coming into the paddock and realized the day was ebbing fast.
“You should have woken me sooner,” she said, rubbing her eyes.
He shook his head sternly. “Best that you were not seen today. A retinue arrived from Vezins, bearing the tunic and badge of Dieyre. I did not see the man, but I understand that he and Forshee are enemies.”
Lia’s heart strained with worry. “Colvin,” she whispered.
Martin gazed at her sternly. “Focus on your task, lass. Not on his. Dieyre was looking for you. His men were asking if a flax-haired lass had been seen. One without tattoos and carried a blade. It was wise when you arrived as you did, before the other stablehands were here. I have waited until they all left to drink their cups of cider. Now we can go, but keep your hood up. Here – some food. You must be hungry.”
She was and she took the meat pie gratefully and devoured it. The spices were different than what she was used to, but it was still tasty and satisfied her hunger. He also produced some nuts, a wedge of cheese, and a half-eaten piece of bread.
After she finished the meal, she followed him down the paddock ladder and they left together through the rear, heading back to the hidden garden she had emerged from at dawn. The weariness was replaced by strength. They walked stiffly together, listening keenly for the rowdy sounds of onlookers and passersby.
“You know more about what will happen than you can say,” Lia said, seeing how deliberately quiet he was.
“Aye, lass.” His face was stern, his blue eyes narrowed.
“Is it because of the binding? Is that what keeps you from telling me?”
He glanced backward to see if they were being followed. “It is and it is not. I do not know everything that will happen. Or what order it will happen in. What I was told was very sharp at times, and very curious at other times. It has been a great many years which has faded my memory. I know the most important points. But some of it I expected to happen at Muirwood Abbey and it did not. Maybe it will happen here.”
That was not the answer she hoped for. What clues had her father left with Martin to act on? How much had been revealed in his tome? She was anxious to find it – to use the Cruciger orb and find where it was hidden. If she could overturn the binding sigil, she would be free to tell Colvin the truth and end his torment. But as Martin had warned her, it was best to focus on the task at hand. It was probably one of the reasons her father had given her the orb, knowing that she would one day see to find her father’s tome with it.
“There,” Lia directed towards the shallow alcove that led to the garden. They advanced cautiously, listening to the din and laughter that came over the rooftops from another street which was more crowded and blustering. She pushed the gate inward and walked to the hidden spot in the wall where the Leering waited. This time, instead of warning her away, it greeted her with an intoxicating smell. There was no feeling of danger at all, only a thrilling sense of excitement.
She paused, staring at it, confused. She touched the Leering and felt at its powers, trying to understand why it had changed. In a moment, the Medium supplied the answer. Once it had admitted her presence with the proper password, she would be allowed to pass it without barrier. In a word, it thought she was a hetaera because only a hetaera would have known the password. Within the stone, she could sense its formidable defenses. Much like the portals at the Abbey which prevented intruders from entering, the Leerings at Dochte were equally powerful. She questioned the stone with her thoughts, probing to see if another hetaera had passed it since she left that morning. She had the strong impression that none had.
“What is it?” Martin asked, studying the expression on her thoughtful face.
“The prey is careless,” she answered. “It is safe to pass.”
They crossed the maze and emerged into the garden beyond. In this case, they were not so lucky as before. There was one person in the garden, which forced them to halt and remain hidden. They observed her from behind the hedgerows and trees, meandering down the walkway, lost in thought. The sunlight was fading still, but there was enough light to see her face when she turned and came towards where they were hiding. Her long dark hair and supple walk was mesmerizing – until her face lifted and Lia nearly gasped with shock. It was a beautiful girl, probably her own age with dark eyes and raven black hair. She looked so similar to Pareigis that Lia almost darted from her hiding place and ran as fast as she could. That moment of panic soon passed when she realized that though the features were similar, she was staring at the Queen Dowager’s sister. She followed the path and then started when a voice reached them from the far end. Lia recognized the voice immediately.
“There you are,” Dieyre said. “I was told I would find you here.”
“This is a private garden,” the girl said, her voice sly and sultry. “Which of the girls let you in?”
“I hardly remember her name. You are all alike to me.”
“Is that so? Even my sister?”
“She is…unique. There is no woman like her in the world.”
“Is she still in bondage at Muirwood?” the girl asked with a grin in her voice.
“You know as well as I that no Abbey can hold her. She will seduce them all before Twelfth Night. I am certain of it. How fares the little lark from Sempringfall? When do I get to see her? I hear she is much changed.”
“You will see her tonight at the fete, of course. You have not forgotten our quaint ways, have you?”
He took her hand and kissed her open palm. “I have nearly died of boredom in my kingdom. Dahomey suits me better. I understand your brother the king arrives on the morrow. I will get the princedom he promised me?”
“You will get everything you were promised,” she replied with emphasis. “Including the earl’s sister as your wife. Our spies have seen her. She is being f
ollowed.”
“Where?” Dieyre demanded, his voice betraying a hint of anxiety.
“In due time. All in due time. Come – I must change before the fete. I have a new gown I have had tailored. You will like it.”
Still holding her hand, he escorted her back towards the Abbey walls. “I look forward to seeing Forshee’s face when you arrive wearing it. Dahomeyjan customs suit me quite well. I enjoy watching a maston squirm.”
Their voices trailed off, leaving Lia smoldering with anger. Martin appeared at her elbow. “Use the orb,” he whispered. “You must find the girl and the serpent’s mark. It is somewhere here in the garden.”
“The mark is everywhere,” Lia said, untying the pouch strings and pulling out the orb.
In her mind, she pictured the image she had seen in her visions. The coiling double-snakes – the image that burned with fire. The orb swung sluggishly, as if the very air around them was too thick for it to move freely. A dread filled her heart, a deep poignant dread. They followed the trail through the garden, listening for even the smallest scuff of a boot, a sigh or whisper that did not belong to the wind or the leaves. The garden was sprawling, weaving itself around the entire rear of the Abbey proper. Nestled within a maze of hedges, a maze that would have made her hopelessly lost, she found it. The hedge opened and revealed a sunken pit of stone, with a single stone lid as a shield to the opening. Night had fallen fully and she summoned just a little hint of light to observe the area. The feeling was utter blackness. The strength of the Medium in the place startled her – but it was not the familiar essence of Muirwood. It was raw, raging power – a force that made her feel insignificant and loathsome. The power was chained there, like a mighty beast sulking with fury at its captivity. She sensed it brooding beneath the stone.
“This is a fell place,” Martin whispered hoarsely. She looked back at him and saw his teeth clenched, his face twitching with concern as the tide of emotion surged around them. “Great evil lurks here. Do what you must, girl.”