by Anne Wheeler
Somehow, she had. She’d found a way to travel the kingdom and still watch the map. Free from Lochfeld, she’d still been able to protect Meirdre. I just needed to figure out how.
And even if I couldn’t . . . if war was coming, I knew exactly where I needed to go first.
Chapter Two
Moonlight glistened over the moors, casting shadows across the rolling hills. Below us, in what passed for a valley, Elternow sat, scarcely more than a cluster of homes. I hadn’t seen it in months, and then it had been covered in snow. Tonight, though, the spring breeze whipped my loose hair about me as I urged Skylark closer.
It hadn’t been my idea, not exactly. Well, riding all this way had—though a carriage followed with my things, doubling as shelter during the night. Laurent would be furious if he knew I’d left Lochfeld, and to tell the truth, I was already second-guessing my decision. But the map had been clear that no harm would befall Meirdre soon.
At least from the south, from Vassian’s army. The rest? I hated to admit I didn’t know.
“It’s hardly even a village.” Erstad edged beside me on his horse as we headed down the hill. “Do you miss it?”
“There’s hardly anything to miss.” I stared off into the distance, searching for Mama and Papa’s house. The lights were too difficult to see from all this way, so I turned my attention back to him. “Just some horses and small homes.”
And Mama, Papa, apple trees, clean snow in the winter, the bright smell of a new calf in spring, and . . .
Even that crack in the window of the cottage where I’d grown up.
Well, what did it matter? I was only visiting one last time, then I would head back to Lochfeld and whatever disaster the future held for it. Once I returned to the castle and the two fireplaces that had kept my room warm for the remainder of last winter, I would laugh at the fact I’d missed that drafty room where the royal guard had stood that night. It seemed like so long ago.
“And hay, it appears.” Erstad pointed toward town, toward a stack in the distance. “Odd it’s sitting out right now.”
Odd indeed. Even the poorest farmers in Elternow had shared barns for wintering their crops. Feeding the livestock was just that important where I’d grown up. And for it to be left in the fields . . .
Soldiers burned them. Thomas’s voice echoed in my mind, as clearly as it had when we’d played as children, when Laurent had condemned us both to death. As they were stacked.
Ice slunk down my spine. Soldiers, like the man who rode with me now? Like the four others trailing behind us? Had I allowed myself to be escorted by criminals?
Silly.
I hadn’t been afraid of Captain Erstad back at Lochfeld, and Laurent had trusted him enough to leave him in charge of the castle’s security—and mine. But Thomas’s claim was so hard to dismiss, though I’d tried as we’d ridden through the fields west of the Arsele, but he’d slammed me down. It was arson, and the Meirdrean Army was responsible, he’d insisted. Wouldn’t hear anything else about it.
But now . . . now Thomas had proven himself a traitor by selling Laurent and Meirdre out to Vassian. By using me, heedless of the fact it had almost cost me my life in the Lochfeld’s dungeon. By murdering Willem in Lochfeld itself. He wasn’t just a rebel anymore, for I could understand that kind of motivation. I didn’t agree with it, now that I knew why Laurent’s coffers were in the shape they were in, but I could understand it.
But murder? And the things he’d done to me?
Maybe Thomas was wrong about the destruction of the haystacks, too. Erstad had commented on them, after all. He wouldn’t have called attention to them if the army had been responsible.
I sighed and tightened my grip on Skylark’s reins.
“It’s just mold,” I replied. “Life is hard in Elternow.”
Candlelight flickered in that cracked window as I pulled Skylark to a stop outside Mama and Papa’s house. Late it might be, but surely she was still working on her mending. It wouldn’t be Papa, since I could see two figures moving around inside the open barn, the hired boy that Laurent’s money allowed for, along with Papa himself. Most of me wondered why he was working at all—his fingers were much too twisted with gout to handle that kind of labor, but that was Papa. Roland is help, his last letter had said. Not someone to do everything for me.
The door opened as I tossed the reins over Skylark’s back and let one of the soldiers lead her toward the barn. Mama stuck her head outside, and I flew to her, burying my head on her shoulder.
“Riette, what in the heavens are you doing here?”
She patted my head, and through my emotion, I realized she was concerned. How had I not appreciated how my arrival would look to her?
“Just visiting. I missed you, and—” I pried myself away and forced a weary smile. Laurent hadn’t specifically said not to talk about it, and although I was sure rumors of the army headed south had made it to Elternow, somehow speaking of war now seemed wrong. “It was the right time.”
“But on a horse! Riette!”
“There’s a carriage trailing us.” I waved behind me, though I doubted she could see it in the dark. “I wanted to ride—and when you meet Skylark, you’ll understand why.”
“Well—” Her hands fluttered in front of her. “Come in, then. There’s not much to eat, not prepared at least, but perhaps I can find something.”
Before I could protest that we’d brought our own food, she darted inside, her mumblings trailing away. I followed her, wordless. Perhaps she didn’t want more charity. Erstad had disappeared with his own horse, but I thought I heard his voice somewhere out toward the barn. For a moment, I thought about going out and rescuing Papa from that awkward introduction, but when Mama placed a hot cup of apple water in my hands, I stopped.
“This smells wonderful.” I greedily inhaled the scent of my childhood. Too poor for actual tea back then, dried bits of apple in water had made an acceptable substitute—or so I’d thought before I’d known better. Still, it was comforting. “But you didn’t have to waste your provisions on me.”
“Nonsense.” Mama settled into her chair, her eyes glinting with some sort of joke. “I’m saving the tea you sent for myself.”
I burst into laughter as I sat across from her, spilling some of the water across my wrist. “I’m glad. And even gladder Papa seems healthier. That’s him in the barn, isn’t it?”
“It is.” She nodded. “He rubs that medication into his hands every morning, and—Riette, you wouldn’t believe the change in him. It’s an absolute miracle. And if you hadn’t—”
“I was happy to do it,” I whispered. I hadn’t been that night, but what other option had I had? Leave them to poverty when I’d had a chance to save them?
Mama leaned forward. “But are you happy now?”
I raised the cup to my lips, wished it was Laurent’s lips instead, then lowered it.
“I was. But now he’s gone, and I—” Stupid tears. “Some—some things have happened. I was happy. And now I’m not.”
“We heard of the army headed toward the Vassian border,” Mama replied. “He was leading them?”
I nodded, miserably.
“And you love him?”
Again, I nodded. It felt like I was confessing to a crime.
“Well—” Her expression grew comforting. “I suppose I see why you’re here now. How long do you intend to stay?”
I clutched at the apple water. The map hadn’t called to me like it had when I’d been visiting Laurent’s mother in Iraela, but that didn’t mean it was completely quiet. Did it? Or was that how Silke reined in its power? Did she simply rush home when it bid her to? That seemed too simple.
“Not long,” I replied. “Likely just long enough to recover from the trip. While the king is away, Lochfeld is my responsibility, and . . .”
“I understand.” Her smile grew tight, as if she’d realized my position, windfall as it was to her and Papa, had put me in danger. “Then we’ll enjoy every minute we ha
ve together, won’t we?”
I nodded as the door swung open again.
“Nice horse you have,” Papa’s voice boomed. He shoved his hands in his pockets before I could confirm what Mama had said about his fingers.
He hadn’t sounded that strong in years, and I sprang from my chair to embrace him. He smelled like horse and sweat, but then again, so did I.
“She’s lovely, Papa.” He’d never been given much to emotion, so horse talk it was. “And she’s taught me brilliantly.”
“Nice horses the soldiers have, too.”
I sighed and backed away.
“Yes—well. I’m sure you’ve heard about the attack on Lochfeld. What’s left of the royal guard must stay with the king. He spared a few soldiers to protect Lochfeld.”
Wherever he is.
“And its queen?”
“Well, yes. Me, too.”
Papa made an ambiguous sound in his throat.
“At least they brought their own hay,” he replied. “Since they destroyed the rest, we’re a little scarce on feed.”
Not this again. But Papa, at least, was more trustworthy than Thomas. Maybe I could get an answer out of him.
“How did they do that?”
“It molded.”
“Not burned?”
He laughed, though it didn’t sound humorous. “The stacks are still standing, aren’t they? If you burn them, they’d be nothing more than a flat pile of burned grass on the ground. Transfer mold spores from somewhere else, though, and add some water—you’ve just destroyed any chance a farmer has at feeding his livestock in the winter.”
“But—” I slammed my mouth closed. Thomas had lied, and I felt like an idiot for believing him.
“Ah, it doesn’t matter.” Papa waved a hand toward the fields. “If they try anything again, we’ll know just who did it. And they won’t get away with it this time.”
Chapter Three
Mornings in Elternow were always cool in the spring, and as I dressed myself for the first time in months, I couldn’t keep the haystacks out of my mind. All night I’d tossed and turned in my old bed, lumpy and creaky, wondering what motivation Thomas had for lying to me. Why had I fallen for it?
At heart, I was a peasant girl, after all, though one who’d never seen a haystack torched, naturally. I grumbled at that as I pulled an untailored muslin gown over my head. How could I have been such a . . . girl? But to my relief, nothing more was said of the haystacks and soldiers when I stepped into the main room, and Mama simply smiled and handed me a cup of tea.
“From Brannitz,” she said. “Can you believe it? They buy the tea from a plantation somewhere across the sea, then dry and make it in Meirdre. I never thought such a thing was possible.”
It was something that was part of my life now, but I smiled as I took it. “You’re sharing now, Mama—but you truly don’t need to.”
She pointed toward the cellar underneath the cottage. “They brought food. Unloaded it after you went to sleep. You must have been exhausted, because you slept through all the commotion.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d slept more than five minutes at a time last night, much less through soldiers tromping through the house. I gulped down some of the tea, glanced down the ladder into the shadows of the cellar, then hesitated.
“Papa is outside?”
“Feeding the cows. Roland wasn’t feeling so well this morning. His sister sent word.” Mama wiped her hands on her skirts. “I was just about to start breakfast for you and your escorts, but it appears they have their own food and no problems cooking it themselves. So—what would you like?”
“An apple?” I asked. Truthfully, I wasn’t very hungry, and I wanted to explore, like I hadn’t done much of at all since Laurent had departed. And gallivanting around Elternow on a warm spring day had a definite appeal.
“Only dried ones right now.”
Mama pointed at the basket, and I grabbed a handful of slices, my mouth watering. Dried and a season old or not, I could hardly wait to shove them in my mouth. With a wave, I headed out toward the barn, chomping on my breakfast, thankful, for the first time, that Laurent couldn’t see me. I was still laughing at the way he would have looked at the way I was eating when Papa came out of the barn, hefting a bag of grain.
“Let me get that,” I said, shoving the slices in my pocket and darting toward him. “You should have woken me up to help.”
“Riette.” His brows rose as he dropped the bag on the ground and eyed the brown damask I wore. “The king’s wife, helping with livestock? What would people think?”
“Papa, I didn’t come here to be waited on.”
My hurt must have been obvious, for he sighed.
“I know you didn’t. And yet—we’re fine. Roland has been a great help to us, and I could have waited for his return, yes, but—”
“But you needed something to do.”
“If you’d perhaps sent word—”
“Security.” My response was clipped. “Even a letter might have been . . . unwise.”
Papa exhaled again. “I understand.”
“The bag?”
“Is too heavy for you to lift.” He hefted it over his shoulder once more and tromped to the pen behind me. “Though I appreciate the offer.”
I followed, my skirts trailing along in the dust. The pen was new since my departure, and when I looked inside, dark eyes over a pink snout stared back at me.
“You have a hog!” I said as the creature ambled toward me.
Papa dumped the feed to the ground once more and placed his hands on his hips. “She’ll fill the cellar nicely next winter, won’t she?”
“Indeed.” I reached down and ran my fingers along the top of her head. “Or produce babies to fill the cellar later.”
“Riette! For heaven’s sake.”
“You sound like Mama.” I rolled my eyes and sidestepped a roaming chicken. “It’s not as though I’ve never helped you deliver a calf.”
“Well, that is accurate enough. But you’re a different person now, and the king wouldn’t approve of such talk.” He stood there, regarding me. “Now off with you. I have work to do, and I assume you’re not here to do farm chores.”
I sighed. There was no arguing with Papa sometimes.
“Are the apple trees blooming yet?” I asked.
“In the Caballero’s orchard.” Papa pointed, then laughed. “But don’t let the owners see you—unless you feel like playing their idea of a princess.”
Hoary petals drifted through the air like silk as I strolled through the orchard edging the Caballero farm, smiling at Papa’s warning. I’d wondered what the rest of Elternow thought of me since I’d left to marry Laurent, and now I knew—if only they knew how little I’d changed. Especially with the way I was eyeing the tree at the perimeter of the orchard, an enormous thing with gnarly, twisted branches that reached toward the sky.
The tree I’d used to sit in and watch for the king’s men coming up the trail through the nearby thicket.
The bark was rough under my hand as I ran my palm down it, acutely aware of how the king’s wife shouldn’t be climbing trees. But I was also acutely aware that the orchard was empty. Even Captain Erstad was back at the barn doing whatever it was soldiers did in the mornings, which meant I was freer than I’d been in months.
With one last glance around, I placed my foot on the trunk and hoisted myself into the bottom cleft. The tree didn’t so much as wobble under my weight, and I lifted my skirts around my knees to better climb to my former spot. Laurent would have a stroke if he could see me now.
But as Father Gerritt had once told him, I needed contact with the land for my gift to work, and he didn’t just mean the ground itself. So I climbed upward, shaking apple blossoms from my hair and feeling for just the right handholds, until I reached that spot I’d loved so much. The ground was far below me, but the tree was sturdy enough that I had no fear of falling. Pale green leaves that were finally replacing the flowers conceale
d my presence, and I leaned against the trunk, my eyes closed. Was there anything like the scent of an apple orchard in spring?
The sound of hooves rustled me from the daze I was slipping into, and I sat forward, gripping with one hand the branch that held me. It was a natural movement, for though I could see through the trees on the other side of the low fence, the angle of the sunlight meant no one on the dappled path could see me. That would change this afternoon, but for now, I could be nosy.
Though there was really no need. Thomas and his men were long gone, escaped deep into Vassian, and the Meirdrean army was now, as far as I was concerned, on my side. Perhaps I only wanted to see if there was any of that girl I used to be left. I was up in a tree, yes, but Laurent should have expected that much of me.
The horses drew closer in the dense thicket. It wasn’t the principal route to anywhere, but it was one of the few stands of dense trees here in the moors, and that was why Thomas’s resistance group had always used it to bypass the village. Merchants certainly didn’t come through here—the trail was too narrow for all but the narrowest of carts, especially when they could take the main road through the grasslands. We occasionally saw local farmers, yes, but this time of year, few had reason to be on the edge of the Caballero’s farm.
I bit my lip. Yes, I’d walked by a few newly planted saplings on my way here, and Elternow was still poor enough that thievery was an ever-present problem. Even of young trees.
The tree cooperated with its silence as I climbed one branch higher, anxious at the idea of a bandit seeing me up here. For the first time, I regretted not telling Captain Erstad where I’d disappeared to. I tucked my knees under myself and leaned back, easing myself against the branch and in line with a hole in the leaves and blossoms. From this position, I could see the bare dirt of the trail, though the horses were far enough away that I still couldn’t see them—or their riders.
A whistle cut through the orchard, and the hooves stopped. My palms grew damp, pressed against the branches. Had they seen me? Brown though it was, my dress would be noticeable from a distance, but the limbs had to be breaking up the outline of my figure. The fence that marked the edge of the Caballero’s property sat in the middle of a belt of grass, filled with wildflowers, between the end of the orchard and the beginning of the thicket, but was it enough distance to hide me?