“It is too dangerous to let anyone find it.”
She extracted her arm from his, pouting, and lied: “Agnes must have put it here without me knowing.”
He laughed.
“Sacha, it was actually a good idea you brought your seal. Now, be your gracious self and explain to your devoted admirer that we need a map of the kingdoms.”
Sweet memories of the comfort he had offered the previous night dissolved completely. He was absolutely irksome. She was her father’s daughter, and then what? He should at least have had the courtesy to ask for her permission before using the seal, and to tell her of his plans! Instead, he took her off guard and… and…
Sacha snarled internally. She was not some idle girl he had to woo by showing off some supposed strategic skills! Damn him!
“My lady?”
Sacha covered her anger with a radiant smile, looking daggers at her companion from above the bald head of the monk. Derek was obviously very pleased with himself, and laughing up his sleeve at her embarrassment. Fine! Last to laugh always laughed harder.
“Friar Johan, I am so grateful for your help… I need your skills, I assure you. He…” - she cast another dark look at the amused prince - “is still pretending he is right about Caer Lon’s location. Yesterday, I found a list of names with distance to the High City…”
The monk nodded vigorously.
“The tax collector’s diaries, of course, of course….”
“Unfortunately, the names are foreign to us.”
She insisted on the ‘us’. Derek smirked. Sacha did her best to keep her tone even and soft. She wanted to behead him.
“Do you think a map could help in locating those places? So we can spot Caer Lon at last, and prove Derek wrong.”
“Oh, absolutely. I have one somewhere, I think. Please take a place. I will be with you in a few minutes with the appropriate charts.”
The large table was empty except for the documents they had examined the previous day. In a corner, a skinny monk was copying a thick book she recognized instantly.
Derek unrolled the list of places and glanced at it quickly before he looked around for some writing material. Curious, Sacha forgot she was annoyed with him and asked, “What are you doing?”
“I want to write down the names by distance order. We need to figure those, too. One day on horseback is not the same than traveling by cart.”
“A tax collector travels with wheels; doesn’t he?”
“I suppose.”
He was already falling into his task, ignoring her. Derek frowned at something on his page and stopped scribbling. Sacha sighed.
“Let’s hope he used only one form of transportation.”
“What did you say?”
His distracted tone irritated her again. She repeated impatiently “I hope he used the same transportation mode, whatever place he visited.”
The young man rubbed the ridge of his nose, looking back down at the original list. Then he beamed.
“You are brilliant.”
Sacha felt her cheeks grew burning hot, all annoyance gone magically. She wished she could read his mind, just this one time, so she would not have to disgrace herself asking why he was so pleased with her. Derek bent over the table, calling her attention back to the copy he had abandoned, and the original scroll.
“Look. The collection is in chronological order. The first entries are always marked within a day or less off travel. The next ones are farther, two, three days. Gwel Caer is noted after a five-day travel.”
“So he could have gone on horseback at first, then used a wagon afterward.”
“My thought exactly.”
His broad grin was contagious. Sacha’s lips curved, matching his winning smile. His eyes flicked down an instant then came back to hers.
Sacha froze, mesmerized. The sparkles swirling in his stare fired a crown around his head, nearly blinding her. She jolted back in surprise.
“Sacha?”
The flames were devouring the air around Derek to engulf him completely. She gasped. Darkness now fought the light, nibbling at the glow, slowly, quickly, more and more aggressive. Light was merely a golden circle; darkness was nearly touching him…
“No!”
The young woman fell forward. Derek caught her in time before her head hit the hard wood of the tabletop. One knee on his bench, he steadied her at arm's length, then carefully helped her back to the seat.
“Sweet Lord!”
Friar Johan dropped his load of maps on the floor and Sacha snapped back into reality.
“I am fine.”
Neither man looked convinced by her bravado.
“I assure you… I am simply light-headed.”
Her confused eyes begged Derek to help with the pretense. Her cheeks were terribly pale. He looked desperately for an excuse to explain her swoon. The prince suddenly remembered about her skipped breakfast.
“Here.”
The bread was scorned and held the mark of the knife he had used to cut it. Some crumbles fell on the table. Friar Johan mewled, torn between his duties toward the fragile lady and his beloved charges.
The shock from her vision rushed back making her tremble, but Sacha smiled bravely.
“I can’t eat in here, Derek…”
“The hell with-“
“My lord!”
His swearing finally bested the monk’s hesitation. The little man trotted toward them to help her stand.
“Please, my dear. You will take some fresh air while I look for something sweeter than dry bread for you.”
The glower Friar Johan gave Derek got lost as the prince escorted the pair outside, watching Sacha like a hawk.
Settled on the stone bench in front of the scriptorium, Sacha sampled her bread, now covered with creamy butter and honey. Derek walked back and forth in front of her. She took a sip of milk and sighed.
“Derek can you stop? You are making me dizzy…”
“You are dizzy because you skipped breakfast.”
Derek stopped pacing. It was his fault. She hadn’t eaten because he had selfishly declared they go once he had finished while she was still poking at hers. He did not even remember why it had seemed a good idea to do so at the time. She was already tired, fooling him with brio, as usual, and he had pushed her too far. She too had slept poorly and she was so slender… Idiot. He growled, furious with himself.
“I am adding a new rule. No more skipping meals.”
“You may want to write them down. There are so many I fear I cannot remember them all…”
And now she was making fun of him. Derek started pacing again, his annoyance changing targets.
“This is not funny, Sacha.”
“No, no it is not.”
Her retort clamped his mouth shut. The beautiful lady shook her head, her luminous eyes capturing his.
“I saw you entering a fire. Then darkness attacked and you…”
Her voice broke. It never occurred to him to question her vision this time. She was scared. For him? Derek felt his anger melt away.
“And where were you?”
Was she safe, at least?
“I… I don’t know.”
I was looking at you embracing death.
Sacha bent her head. Her hands rested on her lap, her fingers closely knitted together. Following her stare, Derek noticed she was shaking. He wrapped his own cloak around her, rubbing her arms up and down swiftly. Somehow, he doubted the ice in her veins came from the cold breeze swirling around the courtyard.
The angst in her stare burned into his stomach to a point he wanted to roar. Appropriate words seemed to elude him as always, and as always he wished he had kept his mouth shut as soon as he spoke.
“It won’t happen, Sacha. Even you cannot drive me so insane that I throw myself voluntarily into the flames. Eat.”
Why did he always manage to sound so bluntly arrogant? He saw the storm brewing on her face as the last words were out, chasing away the doubts and th
e fright. Sacha opened her mouth, ready to give him a piece of her mind, so he took refuge behind the plate, with his best imitation of Elwyn’s coy smile.
“Please?”
The mimic blew out a good part of her tantrum. Derek could tell she was still annoyed with him, but he caught a flash of amusement on her face despite her stern expression. His blue eyes twinkled with relief. Sacha took the plate, suddenly highly interested in her food.
Chapter 14
To My Lord Guardian, greetings,
Our journey goes eventless. We had hoped to find our friends in Saint-Stephen, but unfortunately they have already moved to their summer residence. We will thus resume our travel shortly to join them. Your daughter is very anxious to see her brother again.
I hope this letter will find you all in good health. Please assure my mother of my faithful devotion.
Yours truly,
A
Geraint pushed the short letter away with a grunt. He resisted the urge to crush the paper into a ball to throw it into the fireplace. Ylianor would certainly want to read it herself. It was tempting nonetheless.
The note did little to reassure him. Derek had encrypted his message in a way that only few people could understand it. Camelot had been called the Summer Country when the Pendragons ruled the Kingdoms. And if he was not mistaken, Saint-Stephen Monastery was in a small town about half a day from the frontier that separated Pemfro and Camelot.
The middle-aged man straightened up in his seat, his back tensed against the furniture. The queen - he would never accept to think of her as any less than such - had arranged for everyone to believe Sacha was in bed, in theory fighting a strong fever. Only he, Jeffrey, Ylianor and the maid Agnes were allowed to her chambers. At the same time, two of his men had been sent to the north to check on the advance positions there, and officially, Derek had gone with them.
So far, the lies were holding, but it had been only two days… He had been edgy ever since they had discovered Derek's and Sacha’s getaway, unsure about the feelings whirling inside him.
He worried about his children, including Derek, whom he considered a son. He was angry at his reckless daughter and her hot-headed prince. He hated himself for waiting all those years, witnessing how Wolfryth plundered his neighbours’ lands, without being able to stop him for fear of attracting attention to the duchy and the royal family. Maybe Sacha had had a point; he should have stood up for what was right a long time ago.
Being right did not make up for her disobedience, or Derek’s. Those two had spent years snubbing each other, harrying everyone around, and the one day they decided to pair up, it only attracted more trouble. He snorted.
Geraint reread Derek’s message, trying to decipher more from the cryptic words. Yes, they were safe and sound. But no, they were not coming back.
Ylianor entered the room, her royal stance masking the worry he knew was agitating her. He pushed onto his feet instantly.
“My lady.”
“I am sorry to disturb you, Sir Geraint, but I heard that a courier arrived earlier…”
“Yes. Please; this comes from Derek.”
Ylianor walked to the seat he was offering her before she allowed herself to take the letter. She read, her blue eyes caressing the paper as if it were her son she was coddling. When she was done, she took a careful breath. Her hand trembled slightly when she handed back the missive, the quivers quickly controlled.
“They are alright.”
Geraint nodded silently, looking for a way to tell the anxious woman his deductions from Derek’s implies. She preceded him, however.
“They are going to cross the border, aren’t they?”
“I fear so.”
They fell silent, both parents crushed by the significance behind the news. As the rightful heir to the throne, Camelot was the most dangerous place for Derek to be. The dangers he encountered would extend to whoever traveled with him; namely, Sacha. No one could predict if they would find help in their quest, or threat. Years under a madman's tyranny could transform the most faithful supporter into a desperate traitor. Not to mention that Wolfryth would be free to attack the prince at his will...
Geraint broke the heavy silence first, standing to face the fire.
“This is madness… How on earth did they come to the conclusion that Elwyn is in Camelot’s territory?”
Ylianor bowed her head an instant, getting her bearings, before she explained about Sacha’s dream. Speechless, the duke took another minute to digest her story. For him, his children’s gifts were never a cause of doubt, only of worry. Another cause of worry.
“She might be wrong.”
Ylianor gave a tight smile at the man’s feeble attempt to push away from reality.
“I dread she is not, dear friend. It is very dubious Sacha opened up to Derek about her visions. She knows full well how he is most likely to react. They must have found another clue leading to Camelot.”
Geraint sighed, and then stepped back.
“I am sorry, Ylianor.”
The blond woman nodded slightly. Now there was little they could do but wait, and pray for the better.
oOo
The short rasp on his door woke up Sebastian and he did his best to straighten up. Any effort to use his arms left him drenched in sweat while his entire body burned with pain. He ground his teeth and tried to present a calm face to his visitor.
“Come in.”
The woman who entered the room was probably the last person he thought would pay him a visit, and she was certainly not Agnes.
He had not seen the little maid since her confession. Another servant had brought his meals and whenever he asked about Sacha’s maid, the man explained with a sad movement of the head she was taking care of her mistress, who was apparently harassed by a terrible fever. Sebastian had frowned the first time he heard the tale, but kept his mouth shut. Visibly, the castle was supposed to think his cousin was in her chambers and Derek… God knew where. He had hoped for Ylianor or even his uncle to come and explain, but none had showed up. Some explanations would have been great though, especially given who his visitor was.
“Lady Sonia...”
The brown-haired woman smiled and nodded in return to his greetings.
The Countess of Gosharling, Sonia’s mother, had been a close friend of the late duchess of Pemfro. She had sent her daughter to Haven the previous year, when Elwyn and Derek had been knighted and Sacha officially made her debut.
Sonia’s allure and manners had instantly attracted attention. However, in spite of some light flirting here and there, she discouraged all potential suitors the same way Sacha did, sometimes more coldly, if ever possible.
In spite of that common trait, the two maidens had never really gotten along, probably because rumours said the only man likely to interest Sonia was Derek. The prince knew that and avoided her like plague, except of course when Sacha was around… De facto, neither Elwyn nor Sebastian dared to approach Sonia of Gosharling. Sebastian shifted in his bed, uneasy to find himself alone with his cousin’s nemesis.
His visitor stopped inspecting the various phials and bandages set on the table and came to sit near his bed, on the chair Jeffrey had used earlier to examine the nasty cut on his left arm. She smiled, and Sebastian smiled back, surprised.
“I thought you could use some company, since your best friends are out of the Castle and your cousin is not well…”
Her honeyed tone changed surprise into suspicion. What did she know about his friends? He made an effort to keep doubts out of his reply “That is very gracious of you, Lady Sonia.”
Her smile still in place, and warily friendly, she gestured at the display of medicine.
“Sir Jeffrey is obviously using a complete panoply on you. I trust his methods are efficient?”
“I do hope so, my lady.”
The chitchat was misleading. What did she want? He could not help but think of a feline hunter playing with its prey. Sebastian winced. The role of the mouse wa
s never to his liking. The young woman stayed quiet for a few seconds and he used the silence to observe her more closely.
She was indeed attractive, in a glamorous way. He had to compare her to Sacha, though he knew the comparison would probably irritate the latter to no end. Like her cousin, the Countess favoured long gowns which sculpted her willowy figure. Both had gracious faces, with high cheekbones and delicately hemmed lips. However the similarity stopped there. Sacha had green eyes, shining like clear jade, while the other woman’s stare was as dark as obsidian.
Those dark eyes had returned to him now, and he struggled to adjust his posture in the bed, grunting when using his damaged arms triumphed over his stoic poise. Warmth ignited her eyes an instant and Sebastian stared the fire spreading there, fascinated, as she helped him up against the pillows. Her hands were blissfully cool through the fabric of his shirt. A blue-green mark impaired the inner side of her forearm, intriguing.
“I never saw anything like this…”
“Only my family is allowed to wear it. It’s a protective rune.”
The burn in his tortured muscles decreased significantly. He sighed in relief and looked for a new position in the bed.
“Thank you.”
“You are badly hurt, my lord. Will you ever be able to wield a sword again?”
Her question echoed the doubts that assaulted each of his conscious moments, when the effect from the drugs Jeffrey served him started to fade. Sebastian closed his eyes an instant to find a suitable answer. When he opened them again, Sonia had already moved away and was walking towards the door, apparently having taken his silence for a dismissal. Sebastian obliged himself to voice his own fears out loud.
“I do not know.”
Sonia nodded, thoughtful.
“I use to have great respect for the men of the bow.”
Then she smiled once more, and left. Sebastian let his head fall on the pillow, exhausted and wondering what to make of her last comment.
oOo
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