by Serena Chase
“Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say. Lord and Lady Whittier, Kinley, Lewys, and Rowlen were so very dear to me. I couldn’t imagine a childhood apart from their influence.
“Drinius and Gladiel stored up information to feed their anxious King, piecemeal, when the years grew long. Their tales of you were a great comfort. Sir Gladiel especially seemed to delight in your accent. He told me once that it was stronger or weaker depending upon your mood.”
A flush crept into my cheeks. “He wouldn’t be the only person who’s said so.”
He nodded. “But regardless of how many years passed, Drinius and Gladiel spoke of you in the terms of a little girl. A child. When Kinley came, I was forced to admit that you were growing up. Kinley didn’t see you as a little girl. He described a lovely and spirited young woman who could definitely hold her own. Everyone who knew you as ‘Rose’ has loved you.” He sighed. “I will admit that I was jealous of their affection. And, if your mother is to be believed, another man may soon rile a different sort of that emotion in me.”
“Julien.” His name was out before I had the sense to seal my lips. A hot flush crept up my neck and my eyes found a particularly interesting spot in the upholstery on which to dwell.
“Ah, so it is true,” my father said, smiling. “Not that I doubted. Your mother is most perceptive of such things.”
There was a moment of pure silence and then that dark-honey laugh erupted from my father’s lips. I looked up.
“Julien de Gladiel.” My father’s tone held a pleased sort of amusement with which his smile did not argue.
He leaned back in his chair, tented his fingers, and then pressed them flat and rubbed his palms back and forth. His smile grew pensive. “Rynnaia, it appears as if I may soon be called upon to perform a father’s worst duty.” He sighed. “I can’t say that your mother didn’t warn me, because she was very clear it would be forthcoming. I just didn’t expect it so soon.”
“Didn’t expect what so soon?” I stopped short of comparing his cryptic leanings to Cazien’s. “What is a father’s worst duty?”
“Oh, Rynnaia, surely you know. A father’s worst duty is allowing some young man to court his daughter.”
Heat burned my ears. I was glad my hair kept them hidden lest they light the chamber with the force of my embarrassment.
“I’ve no objection to Julien,” my father said, but then tilted his head. “But what of your feelings, Rynnaia? Would you welcome his suit?”
I swallowed, but found no moisture in my mouth with which to form a reply, so I just nodded my head in the affirmative.
“Courtship is not necessarily the same thing as betrothal,” he said, “but the sealing of that bond is its general aim.” His voice grew solemn. “The E’veri family always marries for love.”
His statement held an unspoken question. A question for which he expected an answer.
I squirmed in my seat and bit my lip. Moments ago I had admitted the same to Erielle, but it was a bit more difficult to say those words to the King. Finally, I nodded. “I love him.”
His smile bloomed. “I could not have chosen better for you if I had arranged the match myself. Which, of course,” he added with a wink, “I wouldn’t. Julien has been a balm to my soul. He’s like a son who has grown into a friend. He’s an exceptionally gifted knight. And wise beyond his years.”
I nodded. “His council and friendship have been invaluable to me.”
“Julien would make a fine King someday, should your courtship progress to that point. He would be an excellent choice to rule alongside you.”
Were we really talking about this? Already? How had the issue of my father’s jealousy toward those who had known my childhood turned into a discussion of marriage and ruling and—
A moment of uncertainty fluttered through my chest.
“What’s wrong, Rynnaia?”
“I’m not sure if it is still his intention to ask your permission to court me,” I said. “We haven’t spoken of it for a while. It’s possible he’s changed his mind. Or perhaps,” I paused to chuckle, but the sound was drier than I intended, “he prefers to wait to declare his intentions until we see if I make it out of Mount Shireya alive.”
“Do not even jest about that. Please.”
“I wasn’t jesting.” I said honestly. “Maybe he fears getting too close and then . . . you know.”
“That doesn’t sound like Julien.”
“Still.” I met his eyes. “He may have changed his mind. Perhaps you won’t be called upon to perform that duty after all.”
The King leaned back into his chair. “Perhaps,” he said slowly. “Just the same, I’m glad to have ascertained your feelings. It will make it easier for me, should the question arise.”
Of all the subjects that could have come up in my first face-to-face meeting with my father, romance and courtship—and marriage!—had not even entered my imaginings as a possibility. I trawled my mind for a way to change the subject to more neutral ground.
“Have you been told the contents of the scrolls?”
“Not entirely. The Andoven gave me a rough outline of sorts, but now that the scrolls are here, I intend to study them at length.”
“Have you decided who will accompany me?”
“Are you so anxious to be away from your poor father?”
“No!” It was then I noticed the amusement in his eyes. “It’s not that. But . . . mother is depending on me.”
“As are many other loyal E’verians.” He leaned forward, and in that instant, transformed from father to King. “Our situation is precarious. We have a plan in place to try to draw the Cobelds and Dwonsil warriors away from Shireya, but it isn’t without its risks. If even a rumor that I’ve sent you—or anyone, for that matter—to Mount Shireya were to surface, the Cobelds would abandon whatever course they may be on elsewhere and retreat to defend their home. I’ve found that rumors are all too common these days and difficult to put down, even when false. I think the plan is coming together, but without my top advisors . . . ?” The faces of Sir Gladiel and Uncle Drinius flitted across his mind. “I fear I’ll miss an important detail.”
My heart tugged at the affection and worry he held for the two knights, now imprisoned among enemies in Dwons. Gladiel and Drinius were not only the King’s top advisors, but his closest friends. He had entrusted them with my safety for most of my life. They were dear to me, as well.
Married to my mother’s sister, Uncle Drinius had, in many ways, served as a father figure to me when I did not know the identity of my own. Gladiel also held a special place in my heart. Not only for the friendship and service he had provided me and my family, but because he was Julien’s father. I was nearly as anxious as my father for their safe return.
“Have you sent anyone to recover Gladiel and Drinius yet?”
“As of yet, I have not.” He sighed. “But plans are being made. With the Dwonsil warriors’ new way of using the Cobelds’ beards, everything is more complex. Even if we should take the fortress, it is unlikely we would be able to unlock the cells since they are cursed.”
I had accidentally discovered the missing knights’ location while learning to use my Andoven gifts. I had also detected a cursed hair from a Cobeld’s beard that night. It was woven into the lock of the cell where Drinius and Gladiel were held. The knights themselves had confirmed its presence—its threat. To touch it, to touch even the metal it was wound about, could mean instantaneous death.
“Could an Andoven do it?”
“The Andoven are just as susceptible to the Cobeld curse as anyone else,” he said. “Not to mention there are few Andoven who would be willing to travel the difficult road to where the knights are held.”
I nodded. “But what if they were able to open the lock without touching it?” An idea began to form in my mind. “What if they could open it with their minds?”
“I’ve never heard of that being an Andoven ability, Rynnaia.”
“It is. My great-
grandfather can do it,” I said. “And so can I.”
He blinked. “You can?”
I nodded.
“Another benefit of your mother’s blessing, I presume?”
Again, I nodded. When I was born, before the guard had been put on my abilities that rendered me unable to access them until I was told my real name, my mother had spoken a powerful blessing over me. She had petitioned Rynloeft on my behalf and said, “Rynnaia, I give you all that I am.” What she didn’t know at the time was that her blessing would encompass not only all of her abilities, but the Andoven gifts of many generations before her. As most Andoven, like my mother, are without siblings, mine was a vastly undivided inheritance. Thus, the explanation for my unusual combination of abilities, as well as the increased strength of those I’d directly inherited from her. Unfortunately, the moment I learned my identity and the blessing had been delivered, it began to drain her very life.
My father pursed his lips, considering that new bit of information, and then shook his head. “It’s bad enough that I must send you after the Remedy. I will not let you try to rescue my knights as well. We will find another way.”
“But what if I could do it without going there?” A thrill of hope shot through my chest. “I think I could do it, even from here. Lindsor taught me.” I paused. “Well, sort of.”
The King arched an eyebrow. “Sort of?”
“It’s a long story.” A story that involved a near-kiss and a misunderstanding with Julien. I sighed. If I told him, I feared it would bring us back to the embarrassing subject of romance and I preferred to steer away from that. “What matters,” I said instead, “is that unlocking a door is a very easy thing for me to do.”
“No. You’ve enough to face. I’ll find someone else.”
“But they were caught on the way back to the Bear’s Rest! They are imprisoned because of me!”
“They are imprisoned because they have sworn an oath of loyalty to me.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone said, “I am the King. Do not argue with me.”
I lifted my chin. “I have a duty to them as well, don’t forget. Not only as repayment for their service, but as the Ryn.”
A muscle moved in his jaw. Clearly, he was unaccustomed to having his judgment questioned.
“They have vowed to protect you, Rynnaia, not the other way around. Both would gladly die in that cell if it ensured your safety. Your duty is to E’veria. And to me. As King.”
He still had not raised his voice, but the range of color in his emotion showed I was treading on dangerous ground.
But I was right. I knew I could do it.
I arose from my seat and paced a few steps before turning back to face him. “Would you rather lose a hundred knights trying to open a cursed door than allow me the chance to do what I can to save our friends?”
“Yes!”
I jumped a bit as he came out of his chair and finally gave in to the desire for volume, but I didn’t back down. I kept my eyes locked with his, using my mind to convey what my tongue was too angry not to trip over.
You are being unreasonable!
I am being your father! He stood inches from me. A wiser person might have been intimidated, but I refused to flinch.
They need me!
E’VERIA—NEEDS—HER—RYN!
My mind vibrated with the power of his message, but I did not give in. We continued to argue, shouting silently until a knock on the door interrupted us.
Our voices were laced with hostility as we both shouted, “ENTER!”
The double doors swung open with such ferocity that they slammed into the walls behind them and sent several framed pieces of art to the floor.
My father’s arm shot out and pushed me behind him at the same moment his sword left its scabbard.
“Julien?” The King’s voice was breathless, angry, and . . . puzzled. “What in the name of all the—”
“Sorry,” I mumbled and let out a hot breath. I had not meant to open the door so viciously, but my emotion had taken the command from my mind and had given it a few extra—well several extra—measures of force.
My father turned. “You did that?”
I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. Shame flushed through my center over letting my anger take so much control, but part of me still seethed from our argument.
“My apologies for interrupting,” Julien began. “I could come back later if it would be more convenient.”
“Don’t bother,” I snapped. “It would seem you have impeccable timing.”
The left side of Julien’s mouth quirked upward. He arched an eyebrow.
Oh! He hadn’t been speaking to me. I sucked in a little breath. Without thinking, my temper had led me to usurp the authority of the King.
“Father, I’m sorry.”
He gave a little nod, followed by a sad sort of smile that humbled me to my core.
“Your Majesty,” Julien’s voice had the smallest hint of laughter beneath its respectful tone. “My apologies. If you’d like me to come back later . . . ?”
“Come in, Julien,” the King sighed. “My daughter and I were just, ah, discussing different strategies for retrieving your father and Drinius.”
“I see.” Julien shut the doors behind him. “No doubt Princess Rynnaia would like to go and rescue them herself.”
A tiny sound caught somewhere between betrayal and surprise escaped my lips. I crossed my arms and glared at him.
My father resumed his seat, looking tired. “It appears you know my daughter much better than I.”
Shame at my outburst—no, my repeated outbursts—rushed through my blood. My arms fell to my sides and I looked at the floor.
“Let’s just say this isn’t the first time she has slammed a door that I had hoped to use in a bit gentler fashion.”
There was an amused sparkle in Julien’s tone and I lifted my eyes, but he wasn’t looking at me.
“But,” he continued, “at least she slammed it open this time instead of locking it shut.” He turned, and when he had the audacity to wink at me I re-crossed my arms and resumed my glare.
Julien chuckled and then proceeded to ignore me. Striding across the room as if he owned it, he took the chair I had occupied just moments ago.
The nerve! Everything about his demeanor made it clear he was completely at ease in the King’s presence.
A stab of jealously surprised me. That is how I would behave if I’d known my father all my life. The shame returned. Instead of affecting a confident ease with the King, I had acted like a spoiled child, determined to have her way.
I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Father. I was disrespectful and stubborn. Please forgive me.”
He pushed back his chair. In another instant he was beside me. My father lifted my chin with his fingers. His eyes were almost as moist as mine. “I will always forgive you, Rynnaia. Can you forgive me for being a King unused to others questioning him?”
“Yes, of course.” I blinked my tears away. My heart was heavy, but not in a bad way. It was simply full. And, just as I had so often recovered from a spat with one of my brothers in Veetri, a sudden rush of merriment forced its way from my mouth. “Besides, I like my rooms too much to give them up!”
My father’s eyes widened just long enough to realize I was joking, and then he tipped back his head and laughed. Encircling my shoulders with his arm, he led me to a settee and sat down beside me.
I relished the feeling of his arm around me. As Julien gave the King his report about all that had transpired since he had been sent to the Bear’s Rest to find me, I leaned into my father’s side and closed my eyes. The rich colors of love and forgiveness surrounded me and I relaxed into their warmth, ignoring the conversation going on between my father and Julien and simply reveling in the wonder of my father’s affection at last.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Would you be willing to try that, Rynnaia?”
My father’s voice grabbed me out of a half-doze. I straightened, hoping I
hadn’t drooled on the King’s tunic. “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I was just telling your father about some of the more unusual abilities you discovered while we were on Tirandov Isle.”
“Oh.” If Julien had gone into any detail about when I had locked him in the library, I was glad I’d missed it.
“You mentioned that you might be able to unlock Gladiel and Drinius’s cell without touching it,” my father said. “Could you do it from a distance?”
“I think so. Lindsor said my desire to communicate with a person or object was more important than distance.” I nodded. “Let me show you.”
I closed my eyes and sent my thoughts toward my father’s door. In a breath, my mind traveled inside the keyhole and tripped the locking mechanism.
I opened my eyes. “Julien, would you mind trying the door?”
He walked over and tried to open it. He shook his head and grinned. “It’s locked.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. “And again?”
He turned the knob and it opened. He closed it again and returned to his seat.
“You know as well as I that distance won’t restrict Andoven communication. Do you believe I can do it?”
“It would certainly seem so,” he said, but I could tell from the colors swirling about my father’s thoughts that, while he was pleased with what I could do, he was not entirely convinced it was without risk.
“We know too little of the Cobelds,” he continued. “It’s possible they will know if their curse has been tampered with. The timing of such a venture would be crucial to its success.”
“We’ll need to distract them,” Julien said. “And lead them away from the fortress.”
My father nodded. “I will meet with the Knights’ Council. Once a strategy is in place I will dispatch a few regiments to Dwons. Perhaps if they engage the enemy it will give the prisoners time to escape after Rynnaia unlocks the cells.”
“But it will take a long time for the regiments to reach the fortress,” I said. “Won’t I be leaving for the Remedy before then?”