He laughed and waved for me to stand. “Don’t bow; we are practically siblings.” He took my hand and helped me to my feet before enveloping me in a crushing hug. “It’s good to meet you finally,” he whispered in my ear.
My response tangled in my throat. It was an unexpected sentiment and racked me with guilt. His mother adored him, and I consistently harbored negative thoughts towards her. It did not seem right that her son would embrace me like a sister. I managed a strangled, “You too.”
“Come, sit. Tell me about your adventuring in the south,” Damara said as she motioned for him to sit between her and me.
“How can I say no to you, Mother.”
“You did when I begged you to stay behind,” she said with a smile and a tilted brow.
“I return a hero, and still you scold me like a child.” Layton pressed his fist to his chest.
Damara and Layton laughed, and I, too, found a smile threatening to curl my lips.
“Tell me, are the Biski tribesmen as wild and dangerous as the rumors say?” she asked in a hushed tone as if fearing the answer. I, too, was curious to know; the whole debacle had me puzzled. In studying the divining craft, I had also studied other forms of magic. The du-toath of the Biski were famous for their mastery of the natural world, and I had read accounts of attacks upon settlements that involved lightning and fog but never an organized siege.
“They are strange peoples, Mother, wild and uncivilized. They fight with blind ferocity I have never seen in battle before. It is as if they lose themselves to the bloodshed.” Layton’s eyes grew distant, and I imagined he was picturing the horrors he had witnessed. I thought of my visions of war and death and shuddered.
“If they are as wild as you say, it seems unlikely they would think to lay siege to a holding the size of Blackthorn.”
Layton turned to face me, and a curious tilt of his brow made it appear that he was considering my statement.
“I thought the same thing myself, and yet they did,” he said after a short pause.
I would have pressed him for more information, but a trumpet blasted, and the room hushed. Damara and Layton turned their attention to the back of the room. I followed their lead, and at the far end of the banquet hall, a pair of double gilded doors that I had overlooked before grabbed my attention. A pair of servants in silver and blue royal livery approached the doors. Together they opened them, and a man in black exited. His shoes clicked on the floor and echoed across the banquet hall. He stood to the left of the door and in a ringing voice announced, “Now enters His Majesty King Dallin and Her Majesty Queen Idella.”
Cloaks and gowns rustled and shifted as all assembled fell on bended knee. The king, a man of late middle age, strode through the crowd. His expression was stiff, and white lines formed around his mouth as he looked forward. On his right arm, the queen, her hair in an elaborate coif, smiled and nodded to the assembled peerage.
She passed by our table, and her eyes met mine for only a moment before brushing past. They took their places at the head table, and the assembled were bid to rise. I glanced sidelong at Damara. I wondered about Queen Idella’s blithe words earlier that day. What had she asked of Damara?
The crier tapped his staff onto the parquet floor, and I looked back to the entryway.
“Now entering: His Highness Prince Adair, Duke of Ilore, and Princess Sabine D’aux of Neaux.”
A gentle murmur rippled through the crowd. I caught my breath in expectation. The prince held the latest clue to the riddle of my missing past. The diviner had led me to him. I was sure if only I could get close to him, I could find out. The prince and princess crossed the floor to the dais, and the malcontent grew palpable. He, dashing in the midnight blue of the royal house with accents of silver in the stitching and in the slits on his sleeves, seemed unaware of the heightened whispers.
Many spoke the princess’s name in a hiss. Princess Sabine, noticeably foreign, having olive skin and a profusion of black curls, wore a gown of crimson, dark as blood. I stared at the pair of them—eyes like sapphires and a crimson gown, two of the images from my vision. Her shoulders were stiff, and she stared past the crowd. Hundreds of faces glared as she took her place at the royal table. She faced the room full of malcontent without flinching, her posture erect and proud.
Despite her stalwartness, it did not deter the whispers.
“Does King Dallin honestly mean to wed his heir to a Neaux woman?”
“I have heard the Neaux ambassador has already made an offer of marriage betwixt the two of them.”
My head pounded to the beat of a drum. King Dallin rose to his feet and appeared blurred. The room swayed, and I clutched at a nearby chair for balance. Damara shouted my name, but her voice sounded muffled.
The diviner’s voice filled my ears. “Heed my warning.”
My eyes rolled back in my head just before the vision overwhelmed me. A long-limbed horse trotted up a cobbled street, parting a crowd of people. The man astride carried a tattered blue banner, a silver tree embossed upon it, and behind him a procession of grim-faced soldiers in tarnished armor sagged in their saddles. They surrounded a girl with sable curls and olive skin. Princess Sabine, not as I had seen her moments before, but as a child.
Hundreds of leering faces, filthy and disheartened, looked up at her. Her hands trembled on the reins as she attempted to ignore their contempt. The crowd hummed like a kicked hornets’ nest. Her horse stumbled and fell behind her careless guards. They pressed forward, swelling, growing larger and angrier by the second. People poured out from doorways and alleyways. Some carried crude weapons: sharpened sticks and metal candlesticks. I walked among them, avoiding the stomping of their feet and feeling their growing ire. Voices overlapped one another in indignation and fear.
“This isn’t peace!”
“Send her back where she came from!”
“The bloody, Goddess-forsaken, Neaux whore will never replace Princess Sarelle!”
They hated her, the child who had been traded for their beloved princess. An exchange for peace, the ultimate sacrifice made by both kingdoms. These people that lived in poverty did not see a scared child. No, they saw only the face of their enemy put above them. The crowd continued to grow until individuals lost detail and transformed into an undulating mass. I watched from above as they continued to writhe like a giant serpent coiling around Princess Sabine, who shuddered, terrified and alone. They crested like a wave until they broke over her, blotting her out as she cried for help.
I reached out but was powerless to intervene. I was only a spectator here. The inhuman mass transformed into a hand, a scarred and calloused hand, missing the index finger. The hand clenched my throat, and I gasped for breath, kicking and clawing at the arm that worked to end my life. I stared into the face of my attacker, and the specter’s hollow-eyed mask looked back as it laughed.
I awoke staring at an unfamiliar canopy. Dark purple velvet curtains were hung with silver tassels. My heart raced in my chest, and a pain pressing behind my eyes was an unfortunate side effect of my vision. What did it mean? I lay musing for a moment until voices carried from nearby.
“Damara, are you certain the girl is fit to serve?”
“I assure you she is more than capable.”
“She has yet to prove that.”
I lay on the bed, my head tilted in the direction of the conversation, fearing if I moved, the speakers would realize I had woken and cease their conversation.
The second voice I knew as Damara; the first woman took me a moment to place.
“We do not have much time. You saw what he did, without my consent, mind you; now we have even more to contend with, aside from his new position as a war hero.”
“Believe me, Your Majesty, my goals are yours, and I know the stakes we are playing with. I shall see it done, no matter the cost.”
“I think we are beyond formalities in private, my friend.”
I bit back a gasp. The other woman was the queen, which could only mean this was her be
dchamber.
The two of them stopped conversing, and I feared they had heard me stirring.
“He’s here. Go back to the banquet. I shall see to Maea.”
“Remember your promise, Damara.”
“I have not forgotten.”
Footsteps creaked across the floorboards. I heard a muffled exchange but did not strain to hear it. Instead I rolled over and stared at a mosaic along the far wall. What did the queen want of me? What could she possibly gain?
The chamber door opened, and I pretended to sleep. A man mumbled to himself as he walked heavily about the room. I rolled over, recognizing the Magiker’s grumbles.
“You’re awake, then,” he said in a no-nonsense way as he extracted items from his bag.
Damara stood in the doorway, her brows pulled together in thought. She noticed me staring and forced a smile. “How are you feeling?”
I pressed my hand to my temple. “I have been better.”
“Pah,” the Magiker said and added something that sounded suspiciously like “youth.”
If only he knew, betimes I wished I were a normal young woman, worrying about gowns and attracting a suitor’s eye, instead of dreaming of destruction. I swore I could still feel the pressure of the hands about my throat. What did the vision mean? As soon as I thought I had found an answer, more questions were revealed.
The Magiker pressed cold hands to my neck, and I startled.
“Don’t expect the royal treatment when you call me out of bed,” he said.
“I apologize for your inconvenience,” I said without thinking.
I thought he would be offended, but a wry smile curled his wrinkled lips.
He flicked my necklace and then went over to his bag once more. “I told you not to scry, girl.”
“It was not intentional,” I said, curious as to how he had known, but with Damara hovering about, I dared not ask.
“Did you have a vision, Maea?” Damara asked and did little to disguise her curiosity.
I was hesitant to reveal it to her. What right did she have to it? “I did,” I said and left it at that.
She did not press me further, but I thought I saw hurt in her eyes.
“Make sure the girl gets some rest. No more excitement.”
“Thank you, I shall see to it that she’s well cared for.”
“You would do well to take my advice on other matters, as well.”
“If it could be done another way, believe me, I would see it done.”
He huffed.
“I’ll see you out.” She motioned for him to leave, but not before the Magiker gave me a final long look before saying, “Be careful, girl, and don’t overuse that charm. It’s damaging to your health.”
From the way Damara frowned, I knew she did not like that bit of advice. I nodded, and they exited, leaving the bedroom door opened a crack.
“I cannot continue to treat her in this condition!” the Magiker snarled.
I jumped from the bed and padded over to the door, peering through the crack. Damara stood in the doorway with her back to me and the Magiker just outside it, so I could watch the two of them converse. “I need your discretion in this. She must not know.”
“I am not getting mixed up in your web. If you don’t want the girl to know, that’s your business, but that charm is dangerous. Leave it on too long and it will never come off.”
“I know, but it’s only for a little while longer.”
“Like I said, that’s your business.”
I turned away from the door and grasped my necklace. It soothed the anxiety that plagued my mind, and yet I could not deny the Magiker’s words. Had this been the source of all my problems? I tried to pull it off my neck but stopped just short of pulling it over my head. I let it fall to rest in the hollow of my neck once more.
The moment I had tried to remove it, panic crashed over me. Even now, I felt as if I could not breathe without it. A calming charm, Damara had called it.
I now suspected it was much more than that.
At least now I knew how they were controlling me.
Chapter Four
Attempts to remove the necklace proved futile. No matter how I tried to remove it, the result was the same: a skull-splitting headache and frustration. I considered going to the Magiker for help, but my movements were closely monitored, and a moment alone with him would not be possible. Even if I did manage to meet with him and convince him to undo the spell, I feared they would discover I was no longer under their spell, and I feared what else they might do as a result. I was trapped.
I realized, after much contemplation, I would need to gain their trust in order to gain my freedom, and that meant I would need to cooperate. For three days, I waited for the Magiker’s consent to leave our rooms. I thought I would go mad waiting and caught myself pacing the floor on more than one occasion. On the morning of the fourth day, I entered the dining room for breakfast. Damara greeted me with a smile as I took a seat across from her.
Johai, seated at the far end of the table, did not so much as lift his head to greet me. On my part, I did try my best to avoid speaking with him unless he addressed me directly. Therefore, it was no real slight. We had an unspoken mutual dislike. He set me ill at ease with his measuring gaze that seemed to bore through me.
Damara, for whatever reason, consulted him, and they appeared to be close, which left me with no choice but to be cordial to him.
If I wished to keep Damara happy with me and willing to give me some freedoms, I would need to avoid Johai’s ire. I’d had little success thus far.
“Good morning, Maea, how did you sleep?”
I pulled out my chair and accepted a plate from a servant. In truth, I had slept poorly; feverish nightmares still haunted my nights, but I thought something as dour as nightmares might not be the most tactful way to start our morning.
“Fair enough.”
“I am glad to hear it.” She smiled, and the lines beside her eyes deepened. Her smile seemed genuine enough that if I were not on my guard, I might have thought her actually pleased. “I was thinking you and Johai should go to the Hall of Entertainment this afternoon.”
I avoided narrowing my eyes and questioning her. I should have known she had an alternative motive for being friendly this morning. Still intent on pleasing her, and also seeing the merits in finally escaping my prison, I said, “That sounds enjoyable.”
“No complaints?” Johai said.
I bit back my sharp retort and instead leveled him with a blank expression.
“It would be nice to get out for once.” I annunciated carefully as if to put emphasis on my distaste for my confinement. It was petty, and I knew it was not wise, considering I was trying to keep them pacified, but I could not overlook his gibe.
He scoffed before standing and strolling out of the room. I scowled after him. I should have paid him no heed, but I could not let it go.
“I am sure we will have a splendid time together!” I called after his retreating form.
He either did not hear or chose not to reply. When I looked back to Damara, she was frowning. I realized too late how rash I had been. What if she changed her mind and did not let me out? At this rate, I would never find out why they took my memories away.
Not for the first time, I thought of the princess and my vision at the banquet. The answers were out there, waiting for me, and I needed only the chance to search them out. That vision had been a clue. I knew it; I just did not know what it meant yet.
“I wish you two would not fight,” Damara said, and guilt twisted in my gut. Something in her tone made me feel like a child caught out by their parent. She was like a mother to me at one time, I chided myself, but that was before, without a past that meant nothing now.
Hilliard attended us to the Hall of Entertainment, and I took comfort in his unassuming presence. My resolve to expose their plot had not made me feel any easier among the judgmental stares of the courtiers. Johai also appeared to grow tense with each step. He hel
d his hands clenched at his sides, and his eyes scanned about.
I turned to scan the room, thinking to avoid Johai’s probable sharp commentary. The Hall of Entertainment, designed like a parlor, was surrounded by high arched windows facing the Eastern Sea and took advantage of the breeze. Spray from the crashing waves at the base of the cliff on which the palace stood scented the air wafting in. Young courtiers lounged about like sunning cats, cards held loosely in their hands, and their gazes skimmed our trio as we made our way through the crowded room.
If any of them remembered that I had collapsed at the banquet, they did not show it. Indeed, they seemed disinterested in us. Shouts from across the room drew my gaze. A dark-haired man threw down a handful of cards.
“Once more you’ve bested me, Princess,” he said, a smirk lighting his dark eyes. “Is this some sort of magic you use?”
The crowd laughed, and I strained to hear her reply, half-hoping her voice would divulge some hidden secrets, but the space was too great and the crowd around her too large. She laughed at his jest, and her dark eyes darted around the room. She’s gauging their reactions after the other night, I realized. At her shoulder, a man I presumed to be her guard leaned in and whispered in her ear. She tilted her head up towards him to listen, and a small smile pulled at her lips. Her understated beauty was entrancing. I could see why people gathered about her. But why the outrage at the banquet? More than ever, I was desperate to talk to her. If not only to unravel the diviner’s clues, but to understand better the court’s mercurial feelings toward her.
“I didn’t think Princess Sabine was popular here at court,” I remarked to Johai, unthinking.
He glanced in the princess’s direction. “Not amongst the Houses, but merchants have shorter memories.”
I furrowed my brow. “Merchants?”
“Merchants’ children. Quit gawking, you’ll attract unwanted attention to yourself.”
I scowled at Johai. I wondered if he took pleasure in being surly and bit back a retort. I would hate to cross him and have him lock me up once again.
Diviner's Prophecy Page 4