The newcomer seemed old enough, though a life in the fields could age a man beyond his years. His beard was greying above the navy blue scarf around his neck. The rest of his clothing was neat, if not brand new. He nodded with a small smile.
“So I heard.”
Derek stepped forward before the man simply resumed his travel.
“We are going to Alynnfaid; is it in your general direction by any chance?”
“Yeah, you can climb in.”
Sacha took the offered hand to settle on the front seat. Derek shoved the bag and his sword on the back platform before he jumped.
“Thank you.”
Their new companion made the reins snap and the cart started down the road.
“Your tongue is singing when you speak. Where are you from? The name is Baul.”
Derek grinned. Baul meant snail in Camelot’s peasant dialect.
“I’m Derek and this is Sacha. We’re from the western coast.”
Baul considered his answer then shrugged, slashing the reins again.
“You’re a long way from home. Going to Londinium?”
Sacha stared at Derek, at a loss for a plausible lie.
“Hell, no. We heard about Alynnfaid, so we wanted to have a look.”
“Ah, yes, the waterfall is something one must see at least once. You’re lucky. This year it’s particularly beautiful.”
The High King’s manuscript was illustrated with vivid streams… Her eyes connected with Derek’s above the back of her bench. By the spark in his stare, he remembered too. Her anger dwindled in the deep blue eyes fixed on her. Why was it he always managed to overcome her defenses so easily? She couldn’t stay mad at him when he had this win-it-all grin on him. Sacha swallowed, unable to look away.
“So we were told.”
Baul bobbed his head.
“That’s a long way to come to see a waterfall.”
This time, Derek was the one seeking Sacha’s help silently. She offered her best innocent smile.
“I love books with a passion. Saint-Stephen Library is so well known. I had to visit it. Today’s sightseeing is my thanks for Derek’s patience with me.”
And here she was, flirting again with a man twice her age. Derek frowned when her sweet act earned her a fatherly smile. Baul returned his attention to his animals and abandoned his questioning.
Chapter 19
One glance in the mirror convinced Ylianor there was little she could do to cover up the signs of angst on her face. Too little rest and even less appetite had left their marks. Small wrinkles circled each side of her mouth as the smoky shadows under her eyes made them shine like gemstones.
Her hands trembled slightly when she picked up the small phial of perfume Derek had offered her just weeks before. Not on a special occasion; just because, He'd flinched when she pressed a kiss on his cheek in thanks and mumbled that he thought she’d like it. The floral scent caressed her nose. A thoughtful gift from a loving man. William had been just as attentive, or touchy when she displayed too many thanks for his liking.
She gave a small smile to her tired image. Her son looked so much like his father. She had never gathered up the courage to talk to Derek about William. She thought she was protecting her son; that she was offering him a chance to create the man he wanted to be, instead of mimicking a ghost. Truth was, it was too painful talking about the one she had loved and lost, and loved still. She had missed him every day, every hour, for the last fifteen years.
She refused to lose her son, too. The proud woman breathed in carefully, and put the small bottle back on the dresser.
Sonia rose on her feet when her host entered the winter garden. With the clear days of spring upon them, the small greenhouse was otherwise empty. Ylianor’s invitation to join her here had come sooner than she expected. The young woman smoothed her sunny dress. She hoped it hadn’t come too late.
“Lady Sonia.”
“Your Highness.”
Annoyance flashed in the cornflower blue eyes. Ylianor took a seat and waved at her companion to imitate her.
“I am not longer a queen, as you know full well.”
The young brunette bowed her head briefly, maybe in an apology as she held the glacial stare. Ylianor might refuse her title, but she still acted like a Royal.
Pushing the thought away, Sonia focused on the reason that had brought her to Haven. There were alliances to revive, and time was ticking away fast. The young woman recited: “The Dragon’s blood sings, rise the Power to life; watching are the Faerlings, until needs its wife.”
Ylianor scowled. She was being given more riddles by a child, when she needed answers… The lady barely kept her tone regal, almost a snap.
“Spare my patience and tell me why you forced Agnes to betray her mistress. What do you want with my son?”
Sonia lowered her gaze to mask her surprise. Under the icy words, she felt fear, and it troubled her. Ylianor was a mother deeply worried for her only child, but the queen also knew the significance of the poem. She had to. She had been raised by the Elders to marry a Pendragon. She couldn’t ignore…
Sonia allowed her eyes to brush over the fingers clutching the armchair, their knuckles white in wary. On an impulse, she covered the cold hand with hers, offering comfort. Ylianor pulled abruptly away from the touch. Sonia resigned herself to using words for reassurance.
“My lady, my family was always meant to protect the Blood and its legacy.”
“I don’t understand.”
Sonia hissed under her breath. In their grand scheme, the Countess of Gosharling and her counsellors had overlooked minor details, such as making sure the most important pieces on the chessboard knew their roles and the risks. So it relied on her to explain…
“My mother is a descendant of the Faerlings; we are the last of the Forest People. When Caer Lon fell, we took an oath to King Caid.”
“It’s a legend.”
“With all due respect, Queen Ylianor, it is history.”
The title casted a shadow on the weary stare, though this time Ylianor let it pass unuttered. Sonia went on.
“Caid not only entrusted us with the late High King’s sister, he left something else to our guardianship: Eileen’s price for her treason. I thought you were aware of that, you were taught by the People…”
“I heard your poem before, but it means nothing to me.”
The older woman had regained some part of her composure. Sonia repeated reverently, “Watching are the Faerlings, until needs his wife.”
Ylianor stood. She knew the words. She didn’t understand them but she needed to. Her voice quivered when she wanted it to stay firm.
“Please, Sonia, this is not the time for word games. Derek’s life is at stake, and ours too. You must tell me… What does the poem mean? What did you do to Sacha? Did you put a spell on her?”
Sonia seemed not to hear the questions or the anguish behind them.
“We guard Excalibur’s scabbard.”
The older woman sat back down slowly. The scabbard had a legend of its own. It was said High Kings couldn’t be defeated while they wore it. It was also said only the Worthy could wear in battle it without its soul being sucked into the magical item. Only the legitimate Blood could hold the Celestial Blade, and resist its deadly spell.
“Why now? Why Derek?”
“My mother is a Reader. Elementals talk to her. She governs none, but all speak to her.”
Sonia’s voice hushed.
“The night Derek was born she saw the four elements become one. Fire fell from the sky and when it split the Earth, Water changed its course to reveal what was hidden.”
It made no sense; nothing in the last days’ events did. Ylianor shook her head.
“Sonia, if you know something that can help us, you have to tell me. Please…”
The young woman bowed her head in apology.
“I’m sorry. I’m forgetting you are not aware of our prophecies. My mother witnessed what we, the Forest
People, believe are the signs of the rise of the next High King. But let me finish, I hope it will make everything clearer.”
A cloud masked the sun, dimming the light inside the garden for an instant.
“So the Signs were acknowledged and we began to prepare for the King’s return but-“
“Camelot fell.”
Sonia went on, dismissing the interruption with the shortest nod.
“Yes; my father was instructed to take you to Haven, the only place where we would still be able to follow Derek’s upbringing.”
“Your father?”
Ylianor remembered the dreadful night when she had lost so much. She had tried very hard to bury the memory deep inside her heart, to no avail. She had never forgotten the terrible noise of the walls crumbling down; the yells of agony. The horrid smell of death… A desperate ride in the woods until dawn broke, Derek clutching her waist; one dark-haired man bowing before the five year old boy and herself, when a small group of knights welcomed them at the southern frontier of the kingdom. And that man had turned his back to safety, and returned to fight for his lost king.
“Hector… Sir Hector was your father…”
Now the queen recognized the onyx stare, and the determined chin, inherited from her late husband’s second-in-command. It seemed each step, each one of her actions had been under scrutiny for years. Ylianor shook her head, unsure if she was annoyed or grateful for that ‘protection’.
“In Haven, Mother was able to watch Derek through the Seer’s dreams.”
The royal blue eyes narrowed. Sacha’s true feeling and thoughts about her son were hers, a private place, her refuge… How dare someone observe-
“You spied on Sacha and used her to watch us?”
Sonia held her hands up in peace offering.
“We simply kept an eye for your well-being, my lady. As it is our duty to do. Of course, we had a biased image of the King-” Ylianor’s stare hardened at the smirk in the young woman’s comment. “But it was better than nothing. Then, last year, Sacha’s visions blurred somehow.”
Sonia arranged her skirt around her, smoothing the fabric on her lap.
“Mother sent me here to discover the why, if not the remedy.”
The brunette grinned mischievously.
“I admit I was curious… I heard about Derek Pendragon all my life. When I met him, I knew. His blood sings.”
“Sacha did misunderstand your interest in Derek.”
Bitter amusement spiked in the otherwise sober tone of Ylianor. Sonia’s mouth twitched.
“Did she? I wish I had managed to befriend Sacha. If we had got along better, maybe I would have noticed the mark sooner…”
“What mark?”
Sonia looked away, studying their surroundings, then stared back at the queen.
“When a sorcerer puts a spell on another magical being, the enchanted core reacts. That reaction leaves a mark. Sacha avoided me so efficiently it took weeks before I recognized it and alerted my mother. By then-”
Ylianor interrupted once more:
“What is it? That spell Wolfryth put on Sacha, what is it?”
Her heart vibrated dangerously. Sacha was enchanted. Sacha had convinced Derek to go to Camelot straight into the beast’s den… Ylianor forced herself to swallow, already loathing Sonia’s answer. The younger lost no time denying Wolfryth was responsible.
“He apparently used a controlling spell.”
“So he could alter her visions, or rather ‘channel’ them.”
The queen folded her arms across her midsection. However hard she squeezed, the chill grew inside her, colder and colder.
“Sacha’s nightmares worsened this winter.”
“Yes. She saw only what he wanted her to see. We interfered, but we were late and Wolfryth is incredibly powerful. I never encountered a charm so strong before. Of course it had to be, to make Sacha submit. Her Seeing is the most potent since…”
Ylianor tensed; the discreet gesture tugged Sonia back to the main topic.
“When I finally identified the curse, mother was able to use a counterspell to stop him watching. We hoped that without the sight, he could not influence her. It worked, more or less efficiently, until the patrol was attacked.”
Sonia stopped, eyeing the glass door. Sunlight poured inside again, untouched. However, she felt something, like someone looking over her shoulder. Sonia pushed onto her feet, inviting Ylianor to imitate her.
“Would your Highness walk with me?”
They got away from the bench to approach the trees the gardeners had still to put out. The rose bushes already showed buds between the tender spring leaves. Ylianor mechanically tore out some weed growing at the feet of an orange tree, and then another. Sonia’s account seemed to be coming to an end and with it the fragile clasp she had on her emotions. It was too much, aimless. She had lost her husband, might lose her only son and the lovely girl she considered as a daughter; all this sorrow and abandonment for what? In the name of obscure prophecies and the greed of a sick man? Why? Hadn’t she suffered enough? Hadn’t her family given enough? What gods could desire so much pain?
The sliver of grass escaped her in a quiver. Ylianor winced as she noticed blood pearling from the cut. The throb washed away part of the anguish burning her stomach. Calmer, she faced her companion again. She knew she risked blowing up the cover they had so carefully put into place, but she had to ask.
“If Sacha were outside your reach, could he control her again?”
Sonia admired the queen’s poise, her woe so evident just a moment before.
“I convinced Agnes to use a holly wood comb with her hairdo as often as possible. Holly wood grants protection and strength. As long as she wears the comb, Wolfryth won’t be able to touch her, wherever she is.”
The knowing, suspicious smile disclosed that the younger lady suspected Sacha was not quietly resting in her chambers. Ylianor heaved out a breath, not at all reassured by Sonia’s answer. Even out of Wolfryth’s grasp, the beautiful enchantress rushed headfirst to wherever her passionate heart led her when nightmares struck. She believed she could save her twin brother; what would happen if… There were so many ifs, so many things left to treacherous chance. Sacha might lose the comb, or simply buy another band; she preferred wearing her hair plaited rather than tied up…
And Derek… Derek couldn’t stand Sacha’s magical outbursts or how vulnerable they left her. Ylianor could only pray their conflicted emotions toward each other wouldn’t magnify the danger they were facing.
“The Forest People will do whatever is necessary to protect the King, my lady. However, when the time comes, he will have to find his way by himself, to prove himself worthy.”
Ylianor reported her attention back to the brunette by her side.
“How will you know that he is?”
Though she asked, her heart already knew the answer. Derek had to survive. He had to live to legitimate his claim.
Chapter 20
The wheel rolled over a pothole and his head hit the wagon’s rim. Derek groaned, brawling to straighten up, still groggy with sleep. Sacha turned to him, and her smile sent warmth down his chest to curl in the pit of his stomach. Vaguely disquieted by the sudden urge to pull her close for a snugger nap, Derek yawned, hiding behind his hand. He tried to chase away the last bribes of daze to no avail. Her smile swayed back to their guide, her eyes abandoning him. He realized the cart was stopped.
“Thank you for the ride, Master Baul.”
Derek reached for the purse at his belt, only to be stopped by Sacha's arm stretched over her seat. His hand fell back on his lap, useless. The farmer nodded, “It was nice having company for once; my house is about two miles down the road, in case you want to stop for the night after your sightseeing.”
“We will remember that. Thanks again.”
Derek was glad she took the initiative. He yawned again, numbed and confused by his lack of energy. He never had trouble waking up. He always snapped out of s
lumber sound and keen. Sebastian compared him to a catapult’s spring while Elwyn complained about it every occasion he got. At the moment, he had no energy whatsoever and his head pounded disagreeably.
The young prince noticed the peasant was looking at him expectantly and finally jumped down the platform, hauling their belongings behind him. His legs protested in the impact, joints hard and hurting.
Sacha moved to help him recovering his balance. Derek shrugged, “I’m fine.”
Her jaw dropped for a second before she pursed her lips, something undefined flashing in her sea-coloured eyes. Derek regretted his rebuff. All his body was stiff and sore, as if he had spent days in bed harbouring a strong fever.
“I’m good, Sacha, just…”
His voice bent into an apology and he shut up. What would he apologize for? Maybe he had a fever.
Reins snapped too close, making his heart jump up to his throat. The cart slowly set into motion. The high-pitched shriek howled through his brain. Derek shut his eyes tight one second, fighting the feeling of being right below a bronze bell in full swing. When the ring dimmed, he secured the bag on his shoulder to mask his shaking.
“Derek…”
Her call had him tumbled. It enveloped him like a second cloak, drawing him back to her. A headache drummed madly on his temples. He wanted to rest his forehead on something smooth and welcoming, so the pressure building inside his skull would ease. Something soft and fragrant, like her shoulder...
“The path is this way, we…”
“Derek, there is no path.”
She spoke so softly he wondered if he had dreamt her nonsense.
“Of course, there’s one! Look!”
It was right under their feet, a small trail going straight into that breach in the curtain of trees, toward the rocky hill behind. Sure, it wasn’t a Roman-paved road, but it…
Her stare shifted from pale jade to deep emerald, the light in them flirting with all the green shades in between. Torn between fascination and another wave of dizziness, Derek shook his head to clear away the thought. His mind was too full of her since he had woken up.
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