“Do, Your Highness?” Helmyra was the first to react to the question, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes.
“Yes. We must do something. Surely you have a plan. What is it?”
* * * * *
Chapter 19
Leera slipped back into the castle through the servants’ quarters and returned the cloak to the hook she’d taken it from. She breathed a sigh of relief. No one saw her as she entered a corridor through a maid’s door.
She took a few steps and paused.
Taren strode toward Leera, his jaw set in determination. “Where have you been?”
He was the last person she wanted to see after meeting with Mother Sariah and Gerguld. She ignored him and turned away, hoping he would leave her alone, but suspecting he would pursue her.
“Leera.” He seized her arm.
She yanked it free and turned on him. “How dare you grab me like some tavern maid.” She spun on her heel and walked away.
Taren rushed to block her path. “Where have you been?”
She tapped her boot, arms crossed in front of her. “I don’t recall granting you permission to know my whereabouts. Move aside.”
The young man’s gaze flicked to her tapping foot. “You’re wearing boots? Why? You’ve been out? Where?”
Impatience won out, and Leera spun on her heel, intent on taking a different path to her rooms.
“You don’t want to go that way. Your mother’s soldiers are looking for you.”
Her boots squeaked to a halt. Leera stood, uncertain. With a sigh of exasperation, she turned back to the most beautiful man she had ever known. “Taren, what are you trying to do to me?”
“Protect you.” The intense look he gave her overcame Leera in a hot flash of fire.
She fought the compelling urge to fall into his arms.
“From what?”
In two short steps, Taren stood before her, reaching for her hands. “Everything.”
She tucked her hands behind her, so he brushed a strand of hair off her forehead, instead. “Exquisite,” he whispered.
His fingers trailed heat along her skin. It coursed to her core. A brief thought crossed her mind. Kassa was wrong. Desire did not flutter; it thundered. She stepped back from his touch and took a deep breath. And another. And one more.
“Why are you here, Taren?”
“Why?” He blinked at her in confusion. “Don’t you know, sweetling?”
She shook her head, more to erase desire than to deny his question. “Why did you come to Elwar?”
Taren stared at her, his hands hanging by his sides. “My uncle invited me to meet the queen.”
“Not the king?”
“What?”
“Your invitation must have come prior to my father’s death. Did it not include an introduction to him?”
A frown creased Taren’s olive-colored brow, and he stroked his mustache with his index finger. “I don’t understand why you’re so concerned about why I’m here.” He reached for her arm. “We’re wasting time on these foolish questions. Let’s—”
She jerked away and rushed by him. “Foolish questions? Not you, too.” Leera sailed down the corridor. After she rounded the corner, she paused. Even Taren was trying to keep her ignorant of the world around her. She listened to see if he followed. He did not.
Passion flushed her body, residue from the trail of Taren’s fingers. Leera leaned against the wall and tore at the ties at the neck of her dress, welcoming the cooler air against her skin. Sarx had planned well when he decided to bring his nephew to distract her.
The thought made her recall her answer to Mother Sariah’s question about marrying Taren. “If he wants the same power, then I will say no. But if mother decides I should marry him, I will have to do so.”
“No, I won’t.” She pushed away from the wall and started up the flight of stairs. She would leave. Gerguld and Sariah would help her, she felt sure of it. Even Helmyra could be of service. Their plan for her to listen in on her mother and Sarx would have to change. Surely, someone else aligned to their cause lived in the castle.
Caught up in dreams of escape, Leera burst through her chamber door and froze. Queen Quilla sat by the window, a piece of fabric in her hands.
“Do you know what this is?” Her mother held up the pale pink, lace-edged cloth. Eyes half-lidded, she rubbed the cloth along her cheek.
Leera’s feet inched backward. Her mother’s quiet air never boded well for the recipient. Until now, it had never been hers to deal with.
Quilla crumpled the cloth in her fist, her knuckles turning white. Her chest rose and fell, and then she thrust her hand, palm up, toward Leera. “I said, do you know what this is?”
The cloth unfurled in her mother’s hand, revealing a miniature napkin.
Leera winced at her mother’s shrill voice. “No, Mother.”
Quilla shook her head and stood. “When I made this, it was with high hopes that I carried a future queen of Elwar within me.” She smoothed the cloth and proceeded to fold it into a tight square. “I dreamed of the beautiful daughter I would have. Of how happy we would be once she stepped into her destiny. Do you understand?” Her voice rose higher still. “Even then, I knew. Even then, I was chosen for this.”
Caution tingled across Leera’s skin. “Chosen for what, Mother?”
The queen smiled with pride. “He chose me. He trusted me to be the one to succeed. I cannot fail him.”
Leera stepped back as she watched insanity dance in her mother’s eyes, giving the woman a renewed vitality.
“Who?” she asked.
Quilla’s head jerked up, and she stalked toward her daughter. “I have not failed him, but you are failing me.” She threw the cloth at Leera. It wafted to the floor. “Even then you failed me. Look at the stains you left behind!”
Leera studied the tiny cloth as she leaned over to pick it up, noting a small area of discoloration on one corner. Had her mother’s determination driven her mad? Who would blame a baby for stains on a wiping cloth?
Quilla stood over her, breath hot on Leera’s face. “You will remain in your rooms unless summoned.” She pushed past her daughter.
“Mother, why?” Leera followed her. “What are you talking about?”
Whip fast, Quilla turned on her. They stood eye to eye. “You will not ruin my plans. You will not stain sixteen years of suffering. Not when success is within our reach.”
She nodded at the baby’s napkin in Leera’s hands. “Maybe you should spend your time getting that stain out.”
And then she was gone, the door closed and locked behind her.
* * * * *
Chapter 20
Leera sagged onto the bed, the baby cloth still in her hands. She stared at it while replaying her mother’s words in her mind. Chosen. Her mother had claimed to be chosen. By whom? For what? Did this confirm Sariah’s suspicions? She pushed the thoughts from her mind and spread the cloth out on her lap, studying the small stain on the corner. If she hadn’t been looking for it, she might not have noticed.
Had the laundress been unable to bleach it out? Surely, a stain so small couldn’t defeat the castle’s staff. Holding it up toward the light, she studied the slightly yellow corner. What had it felt like to need such a small napkin?
Without thought, she mimicked her mother’s actions earlier and rubbed the napkin along her cheek. The scents of gardenias tickled her nose. With a gasp, she pulled the cloth close to her face and inhaled, her memory traipsing through the paths of her childhood, a laughing mother doting on her daughter’s every accomplishment and reassuring her when she struggled.
A clear image came to her of a day much like this one with the sun shining and cooler air announcing the shifting of the seasons. She had been running along the paths of the garden while her mother strolled behind her, stopping to inspect the flowers and bushes. Occasionally, she had called out, “Leera, don’t wander from my sight.”
A giggle had escaped Leera’s lips as she ducked under a bush to hid
e. It had only taken moments for her mother to call her name in alarm. Hands pressed over her mouth, Leera fought back the giggles of fooling her mother so easily. Then her mother had rushed past her, an edge of fear in her voice, her eyes large and round in alarm. “Guards! Guards! The princess is missing.”
The queen had paused on the path just beyond where Leera hid, spinning around, searching everywhere for her daughter. When she drew her hand to her chest and fought back a cry, Leera’s giggles had ceased. She had rushed from under the bush and thrown herself at her mother’s skirts. “I’m here, Mama, I’m here. Don’t cry.”
The strength of her mother’s embrace had told her everything she needed to know that day. She was her mother’s world. As queen, her mother must spend time with the king and her brothers, Kiffen and Serrin, but in the end, it was Leera who mattered.
A tear splashed on the cloth where it lay in her lap. She wiped her fingers across her eyes, fighting the tears. “I’m here, Mama, I’m here,” she said. She wiped away more tears. “Don’t cry.”
* * *
Dusk was settling in when Leera awoke to someone entering the room.
Her maid bustled about lighting candles and lanterns. A gust of wind caused the flames to flicker, and the maid shivered, rubbing her arms. She rushed toward the window, pulling the shutters closed. “Goodness, m’lady. You mustn’t keep these open in the evening. It’s way too cool.”
Not waiting for an answer, she turned and began to pick up the boots and wrap Leera had let fall in the floor. She picked up the tiny baby cloth beside the bed and stuffed it into the pile of laundry she was collecting.
“No.” Leera sat up. “Give me that.”
The maid froze in her duties and turned toward Leera, her face bowed toward the floor. “Your Highness?”
The woman stood still, waiting, and Leera took the opportunity to study her. She was young, older than Adana, but not by much. How long had she tended to Leera? She couldn’t recall. This young woman kept her rooms clean and tended to her needs, but she couldn’t even remember her name. How could that be? Unsure of why this aggravated her, Leera spoke, her voice betraying her agitation. “Look at me.”
Eyes wide in fear, the woman lifted her head to look at her. Her tongue traced her bottom lip. Her shoulders quivered.
Shocked at the woman’s reaction, Leera stood and walked closer. “Are you afraid of me?”
The maid shook her head, her feet shuffling on the floor as if she wanted to back away. She held out the bundle of clothing. “Please, I was only straightening up. Please take what you need, m’lady.”
Instead, Leera circled her, noting how her body shivered as Leera passed behind her. This was how the servants responded to her mother. Had they always reacted like this with her, too?
She stopped at the woman’s side. “Why are you afraid?”
The maid turned to face her. “Forgive me, my lady. If I have done something displeasing to you, please tell me so I may correct it.”
The baby napkin lay on the top of the bundle the woman held, so Leera plucked it from the stack, noticing how the woman shrank back from her hand. “I do not want this washed.”
The fragrance wafted toward her, and she fought the desire to draw it to her face and inhale her mother’s sweet scent again.
Still curious about the maid’s response to her, she sat back on the bed and studied her. “I’ve forgotten your name.”
The maid blinked at her. “Do you wish to know my true name or the one you decided to call me?”
“I decided?”
“Yes, m’lady. You didn’t like my name, so you changed it to one that suited you.”
Caressing her cheek with the cloth, Leera pondered this for a moment. “How long ago was this?”
“Three years. I came to serve you when the lady Adana arrived. Your maid was given to her.”
Recollection flooded Leera’s mind. The theft of her chambermaid was one of the many reasons she had hated Adana at first. She had known her mother made the decision, and eventually realized Adana never would have taken her maid from her. Like the child she was, she had refused to speak to her maid unless she used the same name as the former one. “So, I called you Myra?”
“Yes, m’lady.”
“What is your real name?”
“Hanna.”
“Hanna.” Leera tapped her finger on her lips. “I like it.” She glanced up. “Forgive me for renaming you.”
The woman nodded, her feet shuffling backward. “Of course, m’lady. Whatever you wish. Do you need anything else?”
Leera stared at the woman’s shoes peeking out from under her skirt. Had she really become her mother with the servants? Hanna might be the only person she saw while locked in her bedroom prison. How awful to have her only contact afraid of her. She sighed. “No, Hanna. You may go. Call me when dinner is ready.”
Hanna turned to flee, but her shoes squeaked to a halt on the stone floor. It took forever for her to turn around and face Leera, again. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but your dinner is to be delivered here. To your rooms. All of your meals. By the queen’s order.”
Leera frowned, aware she hadn’t thought this imprisonment through. “Yes. I recall. I’m no longer hungry, anyway.”
After the maid left the room, Leera continued to stare at the door as the click of the lock sounded. Had her mother ever locked Kiffen or Serrin in their rooms? If so, she didn’t know of it. How had she gone from the center of her mother’s world to a pawn locked away in a closet until needed?
She didn’t try to stop the tears this time.
* * * * *
Chapter 21
Samantha’s band of Watchers and First Soldiers found Bai’dish and Glume in the morning hours three days after leaving the Border Keep. From a distance, the sound of raised voices and the clang of swords warned them of trouble. Samantha nocked an arrow and ordered the Watchers to follow suit. They rushed toward the sounds, slipping in and out of the trees on the edge of the forest. The First Soldiers followed, swords drawn.
At the crest of a slight incline, Samantha backed up to a massive tree trunk and peered around it. In the small glade below, four Elwarian soldiers fought to protect Glume and Bai’dish, who stood at the far end of the clearing. Five of Maligon’s men moved in closer, but three of their number lay sprawled on the ground.
Samantha sneered at their lack of battle prowess and drew her bow. She sighted along the arrow at one of Maligon’s men. Kalara had told her, sometimes, they must sacrifice their own to keep up their double lives. At least, these men weren’t trained and valuable soldiers.
Her shot flew true to the chest. The man fell. As his four comrades spun toward the trees, the Watchers lined up on the rise. The twang of bow strings filled the air. Two of Maligon’s men shouted and rushed toward them, their backs turned to the soldiers accompanying Glume. Those men shouted in triumph and pushed forward. Samantha’s squad raced down the hill into the clearing, swords and knives drawn.
After a few half-hearted clashes, Maligon’s men surrendered. They dropped their swords and knelt before the Watchers, hands on their heads. Shaking her head at their cowardice, Samantha turned to look for Glume and the giraffe. During the short conflict, the two had slipped into the tree line. She glanced at the numbers still alive on both sides. Too many to kill if she struck the giraffe here. Embracing her frustration, Samantha stalked over to the captives and drove her sword into the chest of their commander.
A Watcher gasped, her eyes growing wide.
Samantha turned on her, glancing at the Watcher’s uniform insignia—a single giraffe. Watcher status, but her behavior betrayed her as a rookie. “Would you prefer we let this scum live?” Samantha advanced on the woman. “How long have you been raised to Watcher?”
A flush of red blossomed along the girl’s neckline. “A season.”
“Not long.” Samantha nodded. “Don’t question my authority again.”
“Yes, Watcher.” The girl stood straig
ht, her arms by her side, her face impassive in the required stance of a lower rank addressing her superior. Following a battle, the stance wasn’t required, but Samantha relished the Watcher’s action.
She examined the remaining two prisoners and glanced at the Elwarian soldiers, Watchers, and First Soldiers awaiting her command. “Well fought. Tie them up. I will take these prisoners to Adana’s View. She nodded at the Watcher she’d reprimanded. “You will come with me.”
The others glanced around at each other, but Samantha outranked them. They accepted her command and pulled ropes from their packs.
She scanned the trees. Glume and Bai’dish had retreated quite a way into the forest. Why hadn’t they done that sooner? She could have crept along the tree line during the short battle and killed them without being seen. She turned to one of her Watchers. “Retrieve the giraffe and his keeper and deliver them to King Kiffen at the keep. Do not delay.”
Then, Samantha grabbed the rope binding one of the prisoner’s wrists and dragged him behind her. The two captives, bound by their wrists and waists to the same rope, stumbled in her wake. The inexperienced Watcher rushed to keep up as Samantha marched south through the trees. At least the rookie was quiet.
Samantha didn’t look back but kept marching.
An hour later, they paused by a small creek to refill their canteens. The rookie stood guard over the soldiers, her gaze alert and serious. She still hadn’t spoken a word since their departure.
Samantha switched places with her. “Get some water. I’ll watch this scum.”
With a nod, the girl untied her canteen from her belt and approached the creek.
It would have been a pleasure to kill her, but Samantha decided to keep her hands clean and give her prisoners the opportunity.
“Do you recognize me?” she asked them.
They nodded, and one spoke, his gaze cautious. “The Lord told us to watch for you, Watcher. You are Samantha.”
The Watchers in Exile Page 17