The Queen's Rising

by Rebecca Ross

  “He met with Jourdain and Laurent once a year. They began to plan, but everything they thought of was weak. All the while, I thought it was ridiculous. We all had fine, good lives in Valenia. We were safe. Why were the lords still trying to return? Then my father died, eaten up by his grief. I became a master of knowledge, and I took up a new name. I didn’t want to be found. I didn’t want to be drawn into some foolish plan for vengeance. I became Cartier Évariste, and I chose to go to Magnalia because the Dowager had given us aid when we’d crossed the border. I didn’t expect her to recognize me; I had only been a small child when she had sheltered us, but all the same . . . I felt drawn there.”

  “Did you tell her who you were?” I asked. Surely, she would have wanted to know it was him. . . .

  “I wanted to tell her,” he replied. “I wanted to tell her that I was little Aodhan Morgane, the son of a fallen lord, and that I was alive because of her goodness. But . . . I never found the courage. I remained Cartier, as I wanted, even though I began to change. I began to think more and more of Jourdain, of Laurent, of Luc and Yseult. Of why they wanted to return. I began to think of my mother, my sister, whose blood still cries out from the ground, of the Morgane people, who have been persecuted and scattered while their estranged lord hid. I realized that to stay in Valenia, pretending that Lannon’s atrocities were not happening, was cowardly.

  “I almost left Magnalia before my seven-year contract was up. I almost left, hardly able to bear my secrets, my past. Until you asked me to teach you.”

  I drew in a slow, deep breath. My gaze was on his face, but he was still looking to the fire, his chest gently rising and falling.

  “You asked me to teach you knowledge in three years,” he recounted, and that smile returned. He finally met my gaze, and my heart began to unravel. “You were the very challenge I needed, Brienna. I remained for you, telling myself that after you passioned, I would rejoin Jourdain and Laurent’s efforts to return north. What you asked was nigh impossible, but I was determined to see you gain what you wanted, to see you passion. You kept me so distracted I could hardly think of anything else.”

  I glanced down to my hands. There was so much I wanted to say to him, and yet somehow, no words seemed worthy.

  “Master Cartier,” I finally breathed, looking at him.

  He was about to keep talking, his lips forming a word I would never hear. There was a soft, patterned knock on the door, and Cartier was up from his chair in a blink, motioning for me to follow him.

  “You need to leave,” he whispered to me as I trailed him across the room. “This is one of Jourdain’s thanes, and for your protection . . . I do not want him to know of you.” He handed me my candelabra and drew back the tapestry.

  I had all but forgotten that d’Aramitz also had a mission here, to secretly rally the remnants of Jourdain’s people. I pushed open the door and stepped into the inner passage, turning to look back at him. There was still so much we had not resolved. And he must have seen the lingering questions and desires in my gaze, for he whispered, “Come to me again tomorrow night?”

  “Yes,” I murmured.

  “Be careful, Brienna.” And then he lowered the tapestry and I shut the inner door.

  I paused only long enough to ensure that I could not hear anything through the wall as he met with the thane, and then I began to wend my way back to my room. I had not once thought of our conversation being overheard. But I should have. He should have. Because one careless move, and Cartier and I would both be dead.

  And I still had to retrieve the Stone of Eventide.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  THE HUNT

  The following morning, I ate a hasty breakfast in the hall and then followed the trail of Valenians out to the courtyard as they waited for their horses. The mist was just beginning to burn away, and I stood off to the side and watched as Damhan’s sprawling lands woke with sun and gleaming dew.

  There was the alehouse, the servants’ quarters, the stables, the sparring turf where Tristan and Oran had once practiced. And just on the rim of the pasture, there sat the Mairenna Forest, swathed in dark green pines and yellow aspens, crowned with fog. Not much had changed over the past one hundred and sixty years. It was a gentle reminder that this land, this people, was built in fortitude and tradition, that change happened slowly, gradually.

  My plans were to get near the forest by requesting a tour, a tour I expected would be deterred since all of the men were going to be hunting. But I needed to show my curiosity in the land so it would not appear strange to see me walking about on my own.

  I felt the weight of the spade in my dress pocket; I felt the weight of the rebellion in my heart.

  I shivered against the uncertain chill and told myself that if these plans failed, I would revert back to exploring the secret passages that night, even though I had no knowledge on how to navigate them and there was a greater risk of me opening the wrong door than the right one. . . .

  I was imagining the horror of getting lost within those dark passages when I heard the lilt of a beloved voice behind me.

  “I hear that you are a passion of knowledge.”

  I turned to look at Merei, fiercely suppressing the urge to throw my arms about her. I think we had the same expression on our faces, for her dimples set little valleys in her cheeks as she tried to restrain herself.

  “I am. And you are a mistress of music?”

  “Yes. Merei Labelle.” She swept me a little curtsy.

  “Amadine Jourdain,” I returned, just as graceful. I felt Allenach’s eyes on me from the other side of the courtyard. Good, I thought. Let him see me introduce myself.

  “Well, Amadine, it seems that we are vastly outnumbered by men. Perhaps you and I might spend the day together?” Merei asked, her eyes bright with questions.

  I held my breath, my mind rushing through the sudden possibilities. I had not planned on Merei’s involvement—the last thing I wanted was to risk her safety—but I suddenly realized how much I could use her assistance.

  “Yes, I would love to. But I planned to ride the land today,” I said as we meandered back into the crowd of men, toward Allenach. From the corner of my eye, I saw Cartier standing in a loose circle of Valenians. My heart quickened as I asked Merei, “Perhaps you could ride with me?”

  “Of course!” Merei agreed as we came to stand before Allenach.

  “My lord,” I greeted him, dropping a dutiful curtsy. “I was hoping for that promised tour of the land today.”

  “I fear that I must ride with the men and lead the hunt,” he replied.

  “Would one of your sons be willing to escort me?” I inquired, praying that he would give me gentle, polite Sean, not Rian, who I had sensed was suspicious of me last night.

  As if he felt the tugging of my hopes, Sean appeared in the courtyard with sleep still in his eyes, his short hair ruffled. He was wearing his father’s colors, a maroon shirt beneath a leather jerkin, and black breeches tucked into knee-high boots. A quiver of arrows was slung over his shoulders, as was a long yew bow. When he felt my stare, he glanced to me, and I smiled at him. Just like that, he approached us.

  “Good morning,” he greeted. “I did not think you were a hunter, Amadine.”

  “I am not,” I concurred. “But I was hoping to tour the property today, to see more of your father’s lands.”

  Allenach was very quiet, watching this interaction between me and his youngest son. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but my stomach clenched as I realized that the lord scarcely let me drift from his sight. I yearned for a shield, a flicker of magic, a way to hide myself from him and his keen observations.

  “Your father is unable to escort me, though,” I said. “So I guess I shall have to wait for tomorrow?”

  Sean shifted his weight. “I could take you,” he said, looking to his father. “Couldn’t I, Father?”

  And here came Rian. He moved like a snake in the grass, as if he could smell my secret intentions from across the cou
rtyard.

  “What is this about?” the oldest brother inquired, his eyes remaining on me, hard and dark and suspicious.

  “Sean is going to take Amadine on a tour,” Allenach stated, and again, I could not decipher if he was annoyed or bored. His words were carefully articulated.

  “What?” Rian objected. “No, not Sean. Let me take her.”

  My palms began to sweat, but I held my ground, praying, waiting. . . .

  “You are supposed to lead the hunt with Father,” Sean objected.

  “And you are supposed to bring up the rear.”

  “Enough,” the lord said, a quiet but sharp word. His sons instantly obeyed. “Rian, you will come with me. Sean, you will take Amadine.”

  I scarcely could believe it, that the lord of the House of Allenach was playing directly into my hands, directly into my wishes.

  Sean nodded, evidently pleased, but Rian scowled, his face darkening as he finally removed his gaze from me. But I heard what he said to Allenach, his words striking me as pebbles as he muttered, “You are treating MacQuinn’s wench like a princess.”

  I didn’t hear Allenach’s response, but my throat tightened.

  “Come, mademoiselles,” Sean said, holding out an arm for each of us. I took his left, Merei his right. “And you would be?”

  “Merei Labelle,” she said. “I just met Amadine a few moments ago.”

  He guided us to the open gates of the courtyard, where Allenach’s servants were starting to bring the horses up to the Valenians.

  “Give me just a few moments, to go fetch two palfreys for you,” Sean said. “Wait here. I shall return.”

  We moved out of the way, watching Sean jog down the path to where the stables lay in the palm of the valley. I took this moment—the courtyard was humming with activity and movement as the men mounted their horses to leave—to ease Merei to a quiet pool of morning light.

  “Act as if I am telling you something pleasant,” I whispered to her. Her face was exposed to the men, while my back was turned, so someone like Rian couldn’t read my lips.

  “Very well,” Merei said, giving me that I just met you smile. “Tell me what is going on.”

  “Shh. Just listen,” I murmured. “At some point in this ride, I am going to give you a hand signal. When you see me lay my hand over my collar, I need you to pretend that your horse has spooked. Ride as far away from the forest as you can. You must distract Sean for as long as you are able.”

  Merei was still smiling at me, tilting her head as if I had just told her something wonderful. But her eyes widened, fixated on mine.

  “I cannot tell you the details,” I whispered. “It’s best that you do not know.”

  She wanted to say my name. I saw her lips, wanting to form Bri. But she laughed instead, remembering my coaching. And it was good she did, because I felt the grease of Rian’s stare again as he rode out of the courtyard.

  “Be careful of the dark-haired brother. He looks at you in a way that angers me,” she whispered, hardly moving her lips so they could not be read as the last of the men departed.

  “Don’t let him anger you.” I linked my arm with hers, the courtyard feeling vast and lonely now that it was empty. We walked back to the gates, watching the groups of men ride across the lush meadows, toward the forest. “I promise you when all this is over, I will tell you everything.”

  Merei glanced to me, just as Sean emerged from the stables with three horses in tow.

  “You had better,” she playfully admonished. “Since you-know-who is also here.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the reference to Cartier. “Ah yes. That was a surprise.”

  The curiosities crowded her eyes, desperate to spill as tears, but I didn’t dare say anything more about him. All I said was, “Continue to play along with me.”

  She nodded, and we greeted Sean with excited smiles. He gave Merei a bay mare while I took a roan gelding. And then we were mounted, following Sean as he led the way on his black stallion.

  “Now, what should I show you first?” he asked, turning in the saddle to regard us riding side by side.

  He had definitely chosen palfreys for us. These horses were extremely mellow, clopping along at a disinterested speed. Merei’s mare looked half-asleep, and my gelding was determined to taste every blade of grass we plodded by.

  “Perhaps we could start with the alehouse?” I offered.

  “Excellent choice,” Sean declared, and as soon as he turned back around in the saddle, I gave Merei a knowing look. She was going to have to switch the mare to get her to “spook.”

  We rode the short distance down the hill, leaving our horses tethered outside the alehouse. It was evident Sean was thrilled to show us around; he told us every bit of the history of the stone-and-timber building, which I half listened to. I was more worried about making sure Merei found an appropriate switch, so when I saw her discreetly slip a slender branch into her skirt pocket, my heart finally settled back into my chest.

  Now. I needed to go now, while I was still near the portion of forest that Tristan had once darted into, while the men were still pressing deep into the woods for the hunt, before they started to trickle back to the castle.

  We mounted our horses, and Sean began to trot us along the wood line, chattering about the mill, which he was taking us to next. We were nearly upon the portion of forest that I needed to enter. I looked at Merei, laid my right hand over my left collar. She nodded and brought forth her switch. She gave her mare a hearty tap on the rump, and blessed saints, that horse bolted, just as I’d hoped.

  We had all been taught how to ride at Magnalia. Even so, Merei almost lost her seat as the mare pulled back in a rear and then lurched into a furious gallop. I screamed after her, which startled Sean and sent him in hasty pursuit after her, across the wide pasture.

  My gelding, old stalwart, watched with a little nicker. I nudged him into the woods, which he opposed until I kicked him harder. We trotted among the trees, the branches clawing us, my eyes hungrily taking it in. Faster, faster, I coaxed the horse, and he shifted into a rolling canter.

  The branches swatted my face, yanked through my hair, kissed me with sap. But I continued to weave through them, my heart pounding as we drew near. I was letting the memory guide me, Tristan’s ten-year-old memory, and I felt the oak’s presence. Its roots were groaning beneath the ground, recognizing me, drawing me in as if I were on a tether.

  The gelding jumped the little creek, and then we came to the clearing.

  The years had shifted the forest, widening the arc about the oak. It stood alone, defiant, its long branches rustling in the gentle breeze. But it also meant I would be clearly exposed as I dug.

  I dismounted on tingling legs and hurried to the tree. I knew this was the one, yet I couldn’t help but run my hands over the massive, furrowed trunk. And there, nearly worn away by years and seasons, was the carving of T.A.

  I fell to my knees, searching my pockets for the little spade. I began to dig, settling into an urgent rhythm, feeling the muscles burn between my shoulder blades. The earth was soft; it spilled around my skirts as chocolate cake, stained my fingers as I continued to seek the locket and the stone.

  My ears suddenly popped, and there was the sound of thunder, although it had been a perfectly clear morning. I felt the shift starting to happen, Tristan taking over. I couldn’t allow him to overcome me, and I dug faster, harder, and bit down on my lip until it bled, the pain and the metallic flow over my tongue keeping me anchored to my time and place.

  Again, it took all of my focus to fend him off, to resist surrendering to him. It was like swimming against a strong current; I felt ragged, exhausted, when I finally tamped his urging by addressing him.

  “What you have done, I will undo,” I whispered to him, my ancestor who had started the decline of Maevana.

  I almost felt his surprise, as if he were standing behind me. And then he faded, giving way to my persistence.

  There was a hollow thu
d at the tip of my spade.

  And deep within the hole lay the wooden locket.

  I had been prepared for it to have rotted away, but it was whole and well; the years of burial had not affected it, as if it had charmed itself to survive. Carefully, reverently, I reached down and took the chain, bringing the locket into my palm. My fingers were shaking as I worked the latch open.

  The stone was just as I remembered, even though the memory had not been mine. It was smooth, luminescent, like a moonstone. Until it sensed my presence, and a blue light cascaded through it, like sun shining through rain. The awe poured over me like honey, thick and sweet. I wanted to sit and watch the magic dance through the stone. And I might have done so, fallen shamelessly captive to the quiet beauty of it. But the colors melted away, leaving the stone pearly white again, dim and mournful.

  I was no Kavanagh. There was no trace of magic in my blood, and the stone had gone dormant after sensing me. It wanted Yseult, I thought, and thinking of her brought me back to the urgency, the danger I was flirting with.

  As I latched the locket, I heard voices, the crunching of horses trotting through the woods. I was trembling as I shoved the wooden locket down the front of my dress, into the cage of my corset. Then I sent the spade tumbling down the hole and furiously refilled it, patting the earth firmly, scattering leaves and acorns and twigs over it. Just as Tristan had done one hundred and thirty-six years ago.

  I heard the breaking of a stick, the swishing of feet in grass, just behind me.

  Frantic, I tried to form a response for why I was kneeling here, beneath a tree, my fingers lined with dirt. I waited for a hand to fall on my shoulder and spin me about, to demand to know what I was doing. But it was a wet nose instead, nudging beneath my elbow. I sat down, the relief hot and prickly beneath my skin, as the wolfhound Nessie nudged me again, as if she wanted to play.

  “Amadine!”

  Now it was Sean, nearly upon me.

  With what little time I had left, I ripped the hem of my dress, wiped the dirt from my hands onto the skirts, and tucked a twig into my hair. Nessie watched me with solemn eyes, as if she sensed my distress. Then I stumbled to retrieve the gelding, who was munching on the thin grass that flourished here. The locket pressed against my stomach, uncomfortable, but it would hold steady.