As soon as Sryka turned her back, Jessalyne rolled her eyes. Poor Fynna.
* * *
Instead of going directly back to her quarters, Sryka sought out the prince. She found him in his chambers, having high tea with the usual group of insignificant females.
“Out, all of you. I must speak with the prince alone.” She glared at the pouting lot of them, daring a retort to pass their rouged lips.
The girls filled out quickly and the prince looked none too pleased. “This better be of great importance, old woman.”
“The king met the girl today,” Sryka said.
“So?” The prince sat with one leg thrown over the arm of his carved chair.
Sryka held her temper, eager for the coming days when she would ensorcell this unbearable twit and bend him to her will. “And the king has asked her back tomorrow. It bodes well, don’t you think?”
The prince studied his nails. “How soon before he blesses the union so that I may be crowned?”
“You’ve waited this long. A little while longer will do you no harm.” You will wait until I’m ready, you simpering fool.
“Just see that it happens. I’m tired of waiting. I want to be king now.” The prince jumped to his feet, causing the crystal on the table to clink.
“As do we all, your highness. As do we all. I shall return when I have more to tell you.”
“You’re dismissed then. Stewards! Send the women back in!” He yelled loud enough to be heard beyond the double doors of his chamber.
The flood of women that rushed in nearly knocked Sryka down. She held tightly to her staff until they passed, placating herself with the thought that very soon she would turn the whole lot of them into salamanders.
Calmer, she left the prince to his giggling women and walked back to her quarters. It was good the child had done so well with the king. She desperately needed the renewal.
Soon, she would no longer have to suffer in this weak, aged body. She would have youth and beauty and power. Prince Erebus would be her puppet and she would be the true ruler of Shaldar.
She made a list of the few remaining things she still required for the incantation. The hardest to come by would be the nails pulled from a babe’s coffin, but the undertaker would certainly supply her with them in exchange for the love spell he desired. The most vital ingredient of the spell was already in the castle.
Under the blackest sky of the next new moon, she would gather all the necessary components, speak the ancient words and cast the spell that would begin the next phase of her life as queen of Shaldar. She couldn’t help but snicker aloud. Poor simple little Jessalyne, who could barely grasp the levitation spell, had no idea what an important role she was about to play.
Chapter Fifteen
Jessalyne waited in the scullery for Fynna to come down. She busied herself by teaching cook a cervidae recipe for seeded brown bread. When Fynna finally stumbled in, Jessalyne wanted to cry.
“Fynna! You look awful!” Jessalyne rushed to her friend’s side.
“That miserable old hag worked me to the bone. Look at my hands!” Fynna held up her palms as Jessalyne helped her to the bench. The skin was cracked and bleeding, the nails torn and ragged.
Wrath blossomed in Jessalyne’s heart against Sryka. “She cannot treat you this way. Something must be done.”
“There is nothing that can be done.” Fynna slumped her head on her folded arms. “I’m so hungry I could eat bugs but I’m too tired to chew. I don’t think I can walk to the swan pond.”
Jessalyne petted Fynna’s tousled mop of indigo curls. “You just rest, let me take care of you.” Fortunately, the scullery was nearly empty. Bread and pies had already been baked and most of the staff was out tending the spits of meat roasting over the fires in the great hall.
“Cook, may I use a few items from your store?”
“Whatever ya need, love.” Cook shook her head and clucked her tongue while she looked at Fynna. “Take care of the wee one.”
“Thank you. Will you fetch Fynna a mug of water? I need a few things from my own supplies in my chambers.”
“Aye, I’ll fetch it myself from the well so it’s good and cold. You go, I’ll keep an eye on the child.”
Nodding, Jessalyne hurried out of the room and up the length of stairs. When she returned, the mug of water was drained but Fynna was in the same spot, head down, her arms crossed in such a way that her ravaged palms faced up.
In one of cook’s pestle and mortars, Jessalyne muddled a selection of fresh and dried herbs into a dollop of tallow to make a salve for Fynna’s hands.
“Fynna? Are you sleeping?”
The pixie shook her head silently and sat up.
“I want to spread this on your hands. It will sting a bit at first but then it will numb them slightly and take the pain away while they heal, all right?”
Fynna nodded and stretched her arms out.
Jessalyne spread the mix onto Fynna’s palms with as little pressure as possible. Fynna gasped as the salve covered the first bit of cracked skin. “It’s all right, keep going.” She winced as she spoke.
Once Jessalyne finished, she began making a restorative tea to give her friend some energy back. “You’ll feel better soon.”
“The pain in my hands is gone and the bleeding has stopped.” Fynna wiggled her fingers slightly.
Cook set a plate of cheese and dark bread with raisin butter in front of Fynna as she looked at Fynna’s hands again. “I must be daft! So sorry, love, ya can’t eat that with your hands such a sight, can ya? Leave that for Jessalyne. I’ve something better than that for ya.” She disappeared into the cold larder and came back with a large bowl of creamy egg custard.
She scooped the pale cream into a smaller bowl and added a healthy dollop of raspberry preserves on top. “Now, that should be manageable.” She set the bowl and a spoon in front of Fynna and gave the pixie a wink.
“Thank you, cook.” Fynna held the spoon in her fingertips and took a large bite. Closing her eyes, she swallowed the custard. “Mmmm. Almost as good as chocolate biscuits.”
Jessalyne finished brewing the tea and set a mug next to the bowl of custard. “Drink this. It’ll give you some energy.”
“Thank you, both of you. I feel better already. It’s nice to be taken care of for a change.” Fynna sipped the tea and made a face. “I might take that back. What is this stuff?”
“Just drink it. It’ll help, I promise.” Jessalyne smiled but inside she was seething. Something had to change in the wretched way Sryka treated the pixie.
Fynna gulped the tea down with a grimace. “Ugh. That is truly awful.”
“But good for you. Why don’t we go back up to the room and you can lie down?”
“I thought you wanted to go out into the garden?”
“Don’t be silly. You need rest.”
“A nap sounds like a great idea.”
They took the stairs at a slower pace than usual. When they entered the room, Jessalyne’s bed was mounded high with fancy dresses. A slip of parchment lay atop the pile of gowns.
“What’s all this?” Fynna asked as she eased onto her bed.
Jessalyne groaned. “The prince mentioned something about sending out to his clothier for a selection of gowns for me.”
She snatched the parchment from the top of the heap and read it aloud. “Please accept these as a gift from your future Lord King. I am sure you will do me the honor of wearing one at dinner. Prince Erebus”
“Wonderful. Sryka told me I could have dinner in the garden. I suppose the prince’s request tops that.” Sighing, she held up the first dress, a ruffled confection in peach and green. Jessalyne wrinkled her nose. “This is...”
“Hideous? Abominable? Very Salena?” Fynna laughed so hard tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.
“You obviously feel better.”
“Yes, I do. Let’s see the next selection.”
Jessalyne held up the second gown. Done in orange velvet and la
ce, strands of pearls dripped from the bodice. “Oh my...this is worse than the first one.”
“I really think you should try them on.”
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“There has to be one gown in that pile worth wearing. What is that bit of blue I see?”
From underneath several gowns, Jessalyne pulled out the dress Fynna pointed at. She held the dusty blue brocade gown with pale ivory satin trim in front of her. “What do you think?”
“Quite lovely, actually. I wonder how that found it’s way into that pile.”
“Purely accidental, I’m sure.”
“You should get ready soon.”
Jessalyne laid the dress down. “There’s time. I need to heal your hands.”
“But you put the salve on them.”
“Sryka’s not about to release you from your duties long enough for you to heal properly. Stretch them out so I can see them.”
Fynna sat up and held her hands out in front of her.
Jessalyne held her own hands overtop Fynna’s small blue ones and let the magic rush through her. A quick sharp flash of pain washed over her hands and was gone.
“Amazing.” Fynna flexed her fingers. “The pain is gone.” She threw her arms around Jessalyne’s neck. “I’ve never seen such power in Sryka. You mustn’t ever show her your true abilities. Her jealousy would not be a good thing.”
“You needn’t worry about that. When I’m under her teaching, I let her think I’m a complete novice.”
“Good. You must protect yourself. Now, you’d better dress. The dinner chimes will ring before you know it.”
While Jessalyne changed, she told Fynna of her day with the king. “How long has Sryka been providing the king with that awful smelling tonic?”
“Quite some time now. I’ve never seen her make it and I never have to wash the pots when she is done. She must keep it locked in her room. I never have to deliver it either. Usually one of the king’s stewards comes for it early. I used to pass them on the stairs as I was going up for the day. Now that you’re here, they must come very early because I never see them at all any more.”
“She delivered it herself yesterday. I don’t know how the king can drink the stuff. Maybe she’s poisoning him. Do you think?” Jessalyne looked at Fynna.
“No. She can’t do him harm. The Oath of Amity prevents it. She took it when she became the king’s magewoman and you’ll take it when you become magewoman to the prince.”
“The Oath of Amity?”
“It’s a barrier spell to prevent the king’s mage from using magic against him or doing him harm.”
Jessalyne finished tying herself into the prince’s gift. “I guess it’s just some awful tonic, then. How do I look?”
“Lovely. I have a feeling the prince’s hands will be lively tonight.”
Jessalyne rolled her eyes. “I’m not looking forward to this evening.”
Fynna lay back down. “You could always set him on fire.”
“Ah yes, that should do it. Thank you so much for your help.” Jessalyne stuck her tongue out before heading to the great hall.
The days continued and Jessalyne’s stayed the same. Mornings spent learning insignificant charms and spells from Sryka, afternoons chatting with the king, and dinners finding new ways to divert the prince’s attentions.
At night, much to Fynna’s delight, she practiced her magic in the confines of their quarters. The ache in her heart increased. She missed Ertemis more every day.
One morning she woke as the weak glow of firstlight barely edged the horizon, another dream of her dark elf filling her sleep with visions. She slipped out of bed quietly so as not to wake Fynna and stood by the window. The dream had been so real, more so than any before it. The remembered feel of his arms around her made her weak and the most awful thought crept into her head. What if he never came back? What if she never saw him again?
She pressed the necklace he’d given her to her lips and her eyes burned with unshed tears. Tipping her head back to keep them from falling, a sob escaped her throat.
“What’s wrong?” Sleep thickened Fynna’s voice.
Jessalyne shook her head. Her voice would crack if she tried to speak.
Fynna padded across the floor and slipped her arm around Jessalyne’s waist. Are you crying? Did you have a nightscare?”
Jessalyne pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Tears solved nothing.
Fynna rested her head against Jessalyne’s side. “You dreamed of him again, didn’t you? You must miss him so.”
“He isn’t coming back, is he?”
“Don’t say that. He’ll return, I know it.”
Sniffing deeply, Jessalyne shook her head. “No, he won’t. It’s been too long.” She gazed out the window at the brightening sky. “I’ve been here for more than a month, Fynna. He told me he could hear my voice in his head.”
“Mindsight?”
Jessalyne nodded. “I’ve called out to him every day and still he doesn’t come. It’s time I give up my foolish fantasies and just forget him or I’ll live the rest of my life longing for a man who doesn’t even remember me.”
* * *
Ertemis turned as his mother walked away. The Ferryman waited for him at the end of the curving pier. He led Dragon down the steps and back onto the skiff.
The fog rolled in when the Ferryman pushed off, blocking all sight of Elysium. Ertemis took one last look at the ring his mother had given him and tucked it beneath his breastplate and tunic. He was so wrapped in thought, he barely noticed they reached the far shore in half the time it took to get to Elysium.
Dragon followed him off onto the small pier and although Ertemis knew the Ferryman would already been gone, he looked back anyway. Nothing but swirling mist and gray water remained.
The sun set as he made his way through the bog, lighting the sky with fire. He stayed on the high path as lastlight descended. He urged Dragon on, unwilling to spend the night in the marshland that served as a buffer between the mortal world and Elysium.
He approached the forest line, his elven sight picking out subtle differences. Everything was somehow different. The leaves were larger, the greens slightly darker. Blooms replaced buds. The boom of bullfrogs greeted him instead of the trill of tadpoles.
Panic twisted his gut. The day spent on Elysium had been much more than a day in Shaldar. He studied the constellations. Spring was well over and summer was in full sway. He cursed the time lost.
He opened his mind and comforted himself with the cadence of Jessalyne’s heartbeat. Digging his heels into Dragon’s side, he took off for Shaldar City, forming a plan as he rode. By now, any number of men could have wooed Jessalyne. She must think him gone for good. If she still thought of him at all.
The overwhelming need for sleep grew the farther he traveled. The effects of time spent on Elysium were catching up to him. He would have to sleep, even if just for an hour or two.
He jerked back and realized he had drifted for a moment. Even Dragon plodded along in a fog. Ahead sat a small cluster of thatched cottages. Magda and Brynden. He could make it at least that far.
Focusing on a small square of candlelit window, he kept on until he and Dragon were at last in front of the cottage. He slid off Dragon and dropped to the ground with a thud.
The light inside the cottage went out.
Ertemis knocked softly on the door. Nothing. He knocked again and waited. The door opened a crack and he could see Brynden peering out.
“I was here with Lady Jessalyne, she healed your—”
“Master elf?” He spoke to someone inside the cottage. “Grams, relight the candle, it’s all right.” He turned to Ertemis. “What brings you back to our home?”
“I need a place to sleep and Dragon needs tending. I also have a matter to discuss with you in the morning.”
Magda pulled the door open and chided her grandson. “Let the man in, Brynden. Where’s yer manners, child?”
“Sorry
, Grams.” He slipped past and took Dragon’s reins. “I’ll take care of your horse.”
“Thank you, Brynden. Mistress Magda, pardon my intrusion at such a late hour. I seek shelter for the night and of course, I will compensate you for your trouble.”
She looked past him. “The lady ain’t with you?”
“No.” Not yet.
“Come inside. You were more than generous during yer last visit. You can have the boy’s bed.”
The soft glow of embers in the stove cast the cottage in a warm light. Half a loaf of seeded bread sat on the table. His stomach growled.
“Hungry, are ya?”
“Aye.”
She unwrapped a hunk of cheese from some waxed linen and set it next to the bread. After rummaging in a cabinet, she added a pot of honey. “Eat then. I’ll have fresh eggs in the morning and porridge. Nothing fancy but it’ll fill ya.”
He tore into the bread, smearing it liberally with honey before stuffing it into his mouth. He swallowed, then spoke. “If you can spare him, I want to hire Brynden as my squire for a short time.”
She nodded, mulling it over. “I’ll give ya my answer in the morning.” She started behind a curtain doorway, then paused and pointed to a bed tucked into an alcove in the wall. “That’s yers for the night. Snore all ya want. My hearing ain’t that good.”
He devoured the last of the meager fare and collapsed fully dressed onto Brynden’s bed, asleep more quickly than he could whip his sword from its sheath.
The smell of breakfast and his growling stomach pulled him from his dreams of Jessalyne. Someone had closed the curtain across the alcove. He opened it and squinted at the bright daylight. Why couldn’t it be overcast more?
Magda stood at the fire, stirring a pot of porridge. “Good morning, master elf. Sleep well?”
“I don’t remember.” He stretched and threw his legs over the side of the narrow bed. “Have you decided about the boy?”
“Don’t mince words, do ya?” She ladled porridge into bowls. “I’ve thought it over and if Brynden agrees to it, it’s all right by me.”
He sat at the small table and dug into the hot porridge. “Where is he?”
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