The Remedy (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  This was not some simple argument, or even a matter of me challenging Julien’s authority or him challenging mine. This was a life-altering, possibly trust-killing truth. If he continued to court me, if we were to marry, he would always carry the memory of how willingly I’d considered discarding his love to marry a stranger. Would he ever be able to trust that my affection could be faithfully his?

  My breath shallowed and my eyes burned as I tried to picture my life without Julien’s love. The tunnel seemed to close in around me. My hand itched with imagined ugliness where Cobeld had kissed it, and I longed for water and lye to rid myself of his taint.

  How could I keep company with Julien as simply a knight, a future Regent, when every moment my heart would be crying—no, screaming—that he should be a prince? My prince!

  I sniffed and wiped my eyes. I could ask my father to assign him duties farther away, I supposed.

  No. I couldn’t do that to Julien. He deserved every honor the King had given him and more.

  Suddenly dizzy, I paused as my field of vision became narrower even than the path. How would I bear going back to being little more than strangers?

  May it not be so! I entreated Rynloeft. I love him!

  I was thankful for the bats, that their skittery feet would hide the tiny series of sobs that gasped just enough air into my body that I could walk again. I wiped the wetness from my cheeks with my sleeve and tried to steady my breath.

  I will never love another like I love Julien, I thought, and wiped away a fresh stream of tears. If necessary, I will remain a maiden Queen.

  I tripped when that strategy was borne away by reason. If there was to be an E’veri on the throne, eventually I had to marry and produce a Ryn to lead the next generation of the Kingdom.

  And the E’veri family always married for love.

  A sob jolted my chest while recovering from my stumble and my foot slipped on bat droppings. I reached out for something to break my fall—something that wasn’t a winged rodent—and managed to snag the back of Kinley’s pack. My knees hit stone, but Kinley turned and caught me before my hands touched the digusting floor.

  When he met my eyes, Kinley frowned, somehow knowing that my tears had not been caused by my fall. He looked past me, as if searching for the one who had caused my distress, that he might avenge his sister, his friend.

  I squeezed his arm and shook my head, gesturing for him to keep moving. His frown deepened, but he complied.

  Despair sank blackened pegs into my heart, but I continued to wrap my thoughts, reaching for a gray so dark that it was nearly charcoal. My friends needed to remain unified. They needed me to stay strong, to see this quest through to its end. I reached for more and more gray, making sure my thoughts were available to none but myself, but my heart cried Julien’s name over and over.

  I would not trespass into Julien’s thoughts, but I looked over my shoulder, thinking that if I caught his eye I might gain some idea of where he stood as he processed what he had learned. But my view of Julien was blocked. Even had Edru not been directly behind me, there would have still been Dyfnel between us. I couldn’t see Julien. And without the further betrayal of looking into his thoughts without permission, I had no way to know if there was any hope for us.

  I faced forward, but paused when Edru laid a hand on my shoulder.

  “You did nothing wrong, Princess,” he said, leaning toward my ear so that I could hear him above the scratching of the bats.

  Edru’s voice was so kind that I couldn’t help but turn and look up into the matching gentleness of his rare smile. The compassion I found there was so pure, so full of friendship, that it brought fresh tears to my eyes.

  “It is only his pride that is wounded,” he said. “Not his love. He will come around.”

  Directly in front of me, Kinley snorted and threw a scowl over his shoulder. “He’d better.” He angled his gaze down to me. “I will not tolerate his jealous pride making you weep.”

  I could hardly believe Kinley had been able to hear my quiet tutor above the noise of the bats. I was gratified by his loyalty, but I could hardly support his desire for vengeance.

  “His pain is justified,” I said, “and I bear the responsibility of causing it, for my actions gave him cause to doubt my love and fealty. We must allow him to choose the path it will take. And I must accept whatever will come.”

  My tears slowed then, and though gloom dogged my steps, I recognized the truth of what I had told my brother. Whatever conclusion Julien reached, I would have no choice but to accept it. Even if he chose to end our courtship, I wouldn’t stand in his way. He deserved love with a woman whose fealty to their union he could trust.

  If only he could get beyond what I had almost done and believe that I was still that woman.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  We reached a fork in the tunnel. Gerrias took us down the passage that veered right, and though it was absent of bats and their slippery droppings, our path became more arduous. The passage was so strewn with rubble that by the time we finally reached the chamber of the three doors, we were ready for a rest.

  This was as far as Gerrias and Edru had searched. After having so much of our journey within the mountain fraught with things new and strange, it was rather odd to have returned to a place we’d been before. The door by which we had left this chamber, the one in which silence was dimmed by sound, was no more. It had caved in, most likely from the resulting tremors when the ceiling of Halo’s Rim collapsed.

  Just looking at that caved-in passage brought Sir Risson, and the grief of our loss of him, to mind. I had tasted from the rim of death’s goblet three times now on this journey, but I had never been forced to tip the cup. I drew some comfort that the cursed arrow Risson had received led to an instantaneous death. At least he had not suffered.

  After we had rested for a few minutes, Erielle pointed toward the well-formed, solid-looking tunnel. “What do you think, Rynnaia?”

  I walked to the opening and closed my eyes, searching with my Andoven gifts for any hint of unfriendliness, but there was none. Our way was clear.

  “It’s safe.”

  The best door of the former three, north and out it will you lead. Out. That sounded absolutely divine.

  “Good. I feel as though I’ve been underground for a year,” Kinley grunted.

  The pathway was easy to follow, but I hadn’t fully appreciated how deeply into the mountain we had descended until “up” was our path out. All conversation stopped as the passageway grew steeper and narrower. We were forced to travel two abreast and then single file to give our complete attention to the rigorous climb.

  “Look!” Erielle stopped, panting as she pointed upward. “Daylight! Is that the way out?”

  “Yes,” Kinley said. “I believe it must be.”

  “Finally!” Erielle was silent for a moment and then she let out a sound of supreme irritation. “What was she thinking?”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Lady Anya!” She repeated the sound, but in a more staccato fashion. “Why did the scrolls take us over waterfalls, into battles at Halo’s Rim, into a deep pool, and through underwater tunnels?” She shook her head. “This way is so much easier!”

  “Easier now, perhaps,” Kinley said. “But the Cobelds we met at Halo’s rim likely came in this way. Remember when Rynnaia sensed the enemy from this path? Had we come around to the northern side of the mountain we might never have made it inside.”

  “True.” Dyfnel shrugged. “But even had the way been clear, we cannot blame Lady Anya. She was only the vessel through which the prophecy flowed. And who are we to question The First?”

  “Indeed.” Gerrias’s low voice rumbled, but I didn’t have to be Andoven to know his remark was aimed at his brother much more than his sister.

  “Hey! I just had an idea!” Erielle turned and grabbed my arm. “You killed Cobeld. With him dead, will the rest of the Cobelds die, too?”

  “First of all,” I said with a slight shi
ver, “I’m not even sure he’s dead yet. For all we know, he could still be falling.”

  Erielle blinked. A moment later she mouthed the words, “Eternal cage,” followed by the whisper, “it never said he would die, did it?”

  I shook my head. “But the prophecy said we would have a battle soon, outside the mountain, remember?”

  She nodded. “So . . . unless it’s just Dwonsil warriors out there . . .”

  “I doubt it,” Kinley spoke up. “That would be too easy.”

  I shot him a look. “Too easy?”

  He winced. “Not that what you did in getting the Remedy was easy,” he said, shooting a frown in the direction where Julien stood at the end of the line. “I meant after. The King will be there with his army, according to the scrolls. If it’s just Dwonsil warriors, no Cobelds,” he clarified, “our numbers alone will make it a swift battle. And if we’ve learned anything,” again, he paused and glanced Julien’s way, “it’s that the scrolls don’t promise victories to come without cost.”

  We trudged on, my heart shadowed in Julien’s silence.

  The cave again grew steeper until it felt like we were making an almost vertical climb. We didn’t speak much for a while. Like our inward trek, a winding upward path spiraled toward the light of day, but it was much more contracted than the cavern chamber by which we’d entered.

  “Gerrias. Kinley.” When Julien called from the rear of our line, I almost choked. “Go ahead and scout the exit. Make sure it’s clear.”

  Gerrias moved forward and Kinley angled around Erielle to join him. Only Gerrias returned, but when he rejoined us, he squeezed by me and the two Andoven men to report to Julien. “Kinley’s standing guard,” he said. “It’s clear.”

  We weren’t that far from the cave entrance. And Gerrias’s deep voice carried well. He would have barely had to raise his voice to make it reach his brother’s ears, but instead he had felt the need to go directly to his brother.

  I hazarded a glance back. With Edru and Dyfnel still off to the side, having moved to allow Gerrias passage, I caught a glimpse of Julien’s perplexed scowl.

  He nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

  “A word?”

  Gerrias phrased the question as if he expected no other response but acquiescense. Even without using my Andoven abilities, I sensed the word he wished to share with his brother required privacy. I moved a bit farther up the tunnel, toward Erielle, who had nearly reached the exit.

  “Princess Rynnaia.” Julien’s voice called out. “I would prefer you proceed no further until at least two knights are outside.”

  I swallowed. “Of course.”

  “Erielle, go ahead. Edru, Dyfnel, also.”

  Erielle, of course, had started up the last turn as soon as Gerrias had announced it was safe. At Julien’s command, Edru followed her.

  As Dyfnel passed by me, a few of Gerrias’s words reached my ears. Though I tried not to listen to what he clearly intended to be a private conversation with his brother, in such a confined place it was impossible not to catch some words here and there. His first word was my brother’s name, followed by something that sounded like, “And I agree.” But as low as he spoke, I could not entirely define the context, only a random phrase here and there.

  “Jealous pride . . . thwarted duty . . . cannot possibly comprehend . . . love her or not . . . does neither of you honor.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks and I wanted to flee, if only to lessen the sting of Gerrias’s words. Julien’s own brother was dressing him down on my behalf. Even though I appreciated Gerrias’s loyalty to me, clearly he did not understand how justified Julien was in feeling betrayed.

  “By your leave, then, brother,” Gerrias spoke in a normal volume now, “I will go out and guard our friends.”

  “Go.” Julien answered.

  Gerrias squeezed by me and moved up toward the daylight, only pausing long enough to turn and spear his brother with a long, hard gaze.

  As Gerrias disappeared into the outside world, I glanced toward Julien. His eyes were fastened on the tunnel floor, his every muscle tensed as his fingers flexed, released, and flexed again. He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. Finally, he lifted his head.

  “I have failed you.”

  I blinked. “No.” I shook my head. “Never.”

  “I made you weep.”

  I pressed my lips together to try to stem the renewal of tears. “You are justified in your feelings,” I said finally. “I should have seen through Cobeld’s deception earlier, that I didn’t . . .”

  He shook his head, stilling my words. “I should have been there. I should have protected you from his lies.”

  “You couldn’t have. The scrolls forbid it. It was up to me. And . . . I did not see through him soon enough to prevent you from doubting my love.” I took a shaking breath. “The fault is mine and I shall do my best to bear the natural consequences of my faithlessness.”

  Julien raked his fingers through his hair and fisted them around a clump at the crown of his head before the hand returned to his side, only to lift again a moment later and repeat the action.

  “Everyone is waiting for us,” I said. “Perhaps even Taef has arrived with the horses. We should go.”

  Julien nodded stiffly, but his frown deepened. “Wait. Remember what the scrolls say? ‘To end the curse you must endure the perils out Shireya’s door that lead to poisoned reservoir.’” He quoted the poetry, wincing a bit at the irregular phrasing, and then pointed toward the exit. “That’s the door. Beyond it, the scrolls promise a battle. The imagery of war ‘raging,’ of poisons that must be ingested, of curses that must be received and expelled . . .” He paused. “These are not words that make me want to rush ahead. Especially when there is so much that must still be decided between us.”

  My breath stalled. This was it, then. He was going to withdraw his suit.

  “Your Highness—”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  My hand flew up to cover my lips. Would I be so selfish as to deny him the dignity of formality?

  “Forgive me. I should not have interrupted you.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “Julien,” I said when he remained silent, “I will not argue what you intend to say, but please understand that whatever action I might have been willing to undertake on behalf of my Kingdom, I could not renounce the claim you have on my heart, not even when I was convinced I would have to give you up to bond myself to Cobeld.”

  He flinched, more in his eyes than the rest of him, but it burned a fresh wave of tears in my own.

  “That my actions hurt you is my deepest shame, and I shall carry it all my days.”

  My tears spilled then and my voice was reduced to a whisper that exerted so much pressure along my throat that it was as if each word, each breath, was passing through an iron fist.

  “I love you, Julien. I—” A sob nearly forced its way through my lips, but I choked it back. “I understand if you hate me now. I will accept the consequences for my betray—”

  “Rynnaia.”

  Not Princess Rynnaia. Not Your Highness. Just Rynnaia.

  When I looked up, he was directly in front of me.

  “Rynnaia, I’m sorry.”

  Grief for what could have been, had I not been so gullible to have let Cobeld twist the words of the prophecy, filled me with a dead sort of acceptance. “I understand, Julien. You must withdraw your suit.”

  “That is not my intention.”

  It . . . wasn’t? “But how will you even look at me and not see me as one who scorned your devotion?”

  I gasped as he gathered me into his arms, but I pressed my face into his shoulder, knowing it might well be the last time I was able to draw such comfort from him.

  “Julien, please do not remain entangled in this courtship if your only desire is to prevent causing me dishonor. The dishonor is already mine. You’ve no need to take it upon yourself and continue your suit as if nothing happened. I betrayed you!” The sob would no l
onger be contained. “Julien, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!”

  His hand pressed against the back of my head, stroking my hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for, other than that you’ve allowed yourself to love the chief of fools.”

  “But—”

  “Please. Let me finish.” His voice rumbled with an ache, a longing grief that made my chest constrict even more. “When I think of what you had to face, and that you had to figure it out all alone . . .” He took a shaking breath. “I will never fully comprehend the magnitude of what you experienced in that chamber with Cobeld and his cunning knowledge of the scrolls’ contents. He threw a cursed dagger at you! You could have died!” His voice broke.

  “I’m a knight, Rynnaia. Your knight. And it burns my soul and scalds my oath that I could not protect you from that fiend.” He took a deep breath. “I understand the concept of duty to the Kingdom. I may have allowed jealousy and pride to blind me for a while, but that does not erase the fact that ‘duty’ is exactly what you were prepared to perform, even against your own heart.

  “I love you, Rynnaia. I cannot imagine a life without you. Can you forgive me for being a jealous suitor and a prideful knight?”

  “You—” I hiccupped. “You do not wish to withdraw your suit?”

  “Quite the contrary,” he said. “Will you forgive me?”

  My throat was so tight and my heart so full that it took me a long moment before I found the words—and a few moments more before they were given passage.

  “It is the calling of love to forgive,” I parroted his own words, words spoken to me weeks ago at the devastated farmstead. I lifted my face to meet his eyes, which shined with a love I feared I would never see again. “I would forgive you anything, Julien. Anything.”

  His expression grew pensive. “Would you?”

  Even the shadows couldn’t mask Julien’s intent. I closed my eyes as his face lowered and his lips met mine. His kiss was soft, restrained, but colors bloomed in my mind.

  Like seeking hands, strands of green and blue reached through the gloomy gray protection I had placed between us, joined a spare second later by gold and orange. Once our colors met, they grasped on to each other and entwined. The gray despair turned to mist and simply faded away, leaving the beauty of forgiveness, love, and peace in its wake.