The Forsaken Crown

by Christina Ochs

  “The Mikulas were kind,” Irena said, a gleam in her eye.

  “True,” Sonya admitted, “though I might end up hating them too, depending on how things turn out.”

  “Well, considering how enthusiastically the captain took his leave from you, I’m guessing they’ll turn out well enough.”

  Irena had walked in on Sonya saying goodbye to Andrei, which was a shame, since it was the first and last time they’d managed a proper kiss.

  “Just as long as he stays enthusiastic.” Sonya smiled to herself. The memory of that kiss would have to last a while, and carry her through difficulties with her family, not to mention the prince’s situation.

  Sonya went a little out of their way so they could stop in the Sanovan capital of Novuk, a good place to get news. Most of the talk there was still of the peace, as demobilized soldiers spent their coin in town and listened for new employment opportunities.

  The kingdom of Terragand was usually a quiet neighbor with little news, but Sonya kept asking anyone she came across if anything interesting had happened there lately.

  On their second evening in Novuk, she got lucky, engaging an older man with a Terragand accent in conversation while she bought him a round of ale.

  “You heading home?” she asked, putting her own Terragand dialect of Olvisyan—the one she’d worked so hard to get rid of—firmly in place.

  “Might be,” the man said. “Hard to say right now who will come out on top, so I thought I’d wait a little longer.”

  “Are they fighting?” So far Sonya had heard nothing new about the prince or his regents, in spite of asking questions everywhere.

  “Not yet,” the man said. “But the regent has his hands full with that treacherous little prince.”

  “Treacherous?” Sonya hoped she sounded bland and neutral. Something told her to keep her mission quiet until she had more information.

  The man nodded. “Seems the prince wanted to get rid of Duke Desmond, and tried hiring an army from Sanova to do it. But the duke found out and put a stop to it.”

  “What happened to the prince?” Sonya wondered if Count Faris hadn’t told her the whole story and this prince was more trouble than he’d let on.

  “No one knows.” The man shook his head. “The duke hasn’t had him killed, at least not publicly. Likely threw him in the dungeon. Though some say the prince got away and is raising troops in the countryside.”

  Sonya suppressed a frown. Count Faris had seemed concerned for the prince’s safety, and if the duke had locked him away, Sonya didn’t know what she could do about it. And if he was free and raising troops, he wouldn’t need her help.

  When she and Irena got ready for bed that night, Sonya told her what she’d learned and said, “We’d better leave tomorrow and hurry. Count Faris didn’t think much of that Duke Desmond, and it sounds like he might have hurt the prince.”

  “If he has, what can we do?” Irena asked, shivering as she scrambled under the covers. This far north it very much felt like mid-winter, and in spite of the icy wind rattling the small windowpanes, they had no fire in their cheap room.

  “I have no idea,” Sonya said, hurrying to join her, though she left most of her clothes on. “I hope it’s not true, or that if it is, we’ll get more news in Terragand.”

  “That seems a tall order.” The woolen blanket muffled Irena’s words as she pulled it over her nose.

  “It does.” Sonya sighed. “And I can’t think what just the two of us are supposed to do.”

  She knew Andrei would have good ideas, but she couldn’t talk to him. She’d written to him from Novuk, but didn’t expect to hear back for weeks, if ever. And before that much time went by, she needed to find out what was going on and have a plan to deal with it.

  Birkenhof Palace

  KENDRYK RAN DOWN THE palace’s main stairs. Guards would stop him at the bottom, but that was the whole point.

  “I need to speak with Duke Desmond,” he said to the guards before they blocked his path. “Please take me to him.”

  The two of them hesitated. Clearly they hadn’t expected such a request, especially now that several weeks had passed. Kendryk had expected the duke to visit him, perhaps rail at him about his stupidity. But he’d neither seen him nor received any message.

  “I promise not to cause any trouble.” Kendryk offered his most charming smile, the one that usually got him his way. “I just need to talk to him for a few minutes.”

  “Wait here,” one of the guards said. “I’ll go ask.”

  While he waited, Kendryk leaned against the banister, doing his best to appear cheerful and relaxed.

  The other guard nodded at him awkwardly.

  “What’s your name?” Kendryk asked. He was familiar with every one of his palace guards, and all he’d seen so far were strangers. He wondered what the duke had done with the others.

  “Er, Oskar,” the man said taken by surprise.

  “Nice to meet you, Oskar,” Kendryk said, smiling again. “Where are you from? Duke Desmond’s estate at Ebenstein?”

  “Er, no,” Oskar said. “Most of us were in Zeelund, fighting in the war there, then the truce put us out of work. Lucky for us, the duke was hiring.”

  “Lucky indeed,” Kendryk said. This was interesting. The truce had gone into effect several months before, which meant the duke had been planning something at least that long. If Kendryk hadn’t misbehaved, he wondered what might have happened instead.

  The other guard returned. “He’ll see you now, but he’s only got ten minutes.”

  “That’ll be more than enough, thank you,” Kendryk said, then turned. “It was nice to meet you, Oskar.”

  “He’s not supposed to talk to you,” the other guard grumbled as he led Kendryk to the council chamber.

  “My fault, sorry,” Kendryk said. “It’s hard having no one to talk to, so I get carried away when I see another living soul.”

  “Hmph,” the guard said, shaking his head.

  “Oh come now.” Kendryk paused at the door. “I’ve caused no trouble at all.”

  “That’s true,” the guard said. “Make sure you keep it that way.” And with that he pushed the door open.

  Duke Desmond sat alone at the head of the big table, papers spread across half of it. His secretary sat at his little desk in the corner.

  “What do you want?” he snapped at Kendryk. “I’m very busy.”

  “I know,” Kendryk said. “I have a small request.”

  The duke put his quill down with a huff. “I doubt I’ll grant it, but go ahead.”

  Kendryk took a seat halfway up the table and did his best to look meek. “As you already realize, I’ve always been very devout.”

  The duke rolled his eyes. “Soft-headed, in my opinion, swallowing every bit of foolishness spewing from the temple.”

  “I’m sorry you don’t believe.” Kendryk sighed heavily. “It’s always given me such comfort.”

  The duke snorted. “Get to the point.”

  “The point is, it’s very hard for me to go this long without talking to my priest. Father Wilfred used to visit every day—”

  “No, he will not return here.” The duke slapped the table for emphasis. “Most likely, he guided you in your folly.”

  “He didn’t.” Kendryk protested. “Though I understand if you don’t want me to see him. It does seem rather harsh to leave me with no clerical support whatsoever. I’m sure Father Wilfred has said something by now, and I don’t want you to get in trouble with the Maxima ...” he trailed off with a meaningful glance.

  Judging by the surprise on his face, the duke hadn’t even considered the Maxima so far. “Why would she care what happens to you?”

  “She probably doesn’t.” Kendryk shrugged. “But she’ll wonder why you’re not allowing any clergy to visit me. Then she might ask questions.” He paused and sighed, doing his best to look stupid. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble. It would do me good to have a priest visit me, even once a week
, if that’s all you’ll allow. That way, the Maxima won’t wonder what’s going on here.”

  “Hm.” The duke drummed his fingers on the table. “All right, but I’ll choose the cleric. There’ll be no trouble, is that understood?” He fixed his chilly eyes on Kendryk. “No complaints, no messages. You’ll get an hour, once a week.”

  Kendryk stood. “Thank you so much.” He swallowed, trying to appear downcast. “I realize I’ve behaved badly, and you’ve treated me well in spite of that. I thank you for that, and for this as well.”

  “Good.” The duke stood, clearly impatient. “I hope you’re learning to see sense. If you continue to behave yourself, perhaps in time we can discuss what’s next.”

  “Thank you,” Kendryk said again, and left before the duke could change his mind.

  The next few days were hard. The baroness became more vigilant again, probably because of Kendryk’s visit to the duke, and no one else came. Maybe his request wouldn’t be granted after all. So Kendryk spent his time with his mother going on and on about his neglected spiritual state.

  At least the baroness agreed with that. “It’s not right you’re left to pray on your own,” she said, gray curls bobbing as she shook her head. “Who knows if Holy Vica hears you without a priest to guide your words?”

  “It’s awful.” Kendryk hung his head, hoping he appeared contrite. “I can’t even properly confess the wrong I’ve done. It doesn’t seem right.”

  “I agree,” the baroness said, and he thought he detected a gleam in her eye. Perhaps she’d intercede with the duke for him.

  Two days later, his wish was granted.

  “There’s a Mother Luysa here to see you, Your Grace,” Arvus said, opening the door. He raised an eyebrow, a signal they’d agreed to beforehand. It meant Arvus knew the priestess worked for Julia Maxima, and was not employed by the duke to entrap Kendryk.

  “Thank you.” Kendryk sprang to his feet, a broad smile on his face. “Welcome, Mother.”

  Luysa was one of the old school of clergy, Kendryk noticed that right away. Short and broad, she was likely his mother’s age, with a stern, lined face. He was certain she would keep his confession in confidence, as the clergy were bound to.

  “Your Grace.” She bowed just slightly, which he supposed was correct enough, considering.

  “You can leave us, Arvus.” Kendryk showed her to a chair.

  The door closed behind Arvus.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come,” he said to Mother Luysa. “It’s been awful, being without a priest. Can you tell me, is Father Wilfred all right?”

  “Well enough. Though he’s been wandering about, looking sad he no longer gets to visit the palace.” She leaned back in the chair, folding her hands over a stout midriff. “It’s just as well. He’d become rather proud of his status, trying to lord it over the rest of us.”

  “Oh dear,” Kendryk said. “I’m sure that’s my fault. I always praised his prayers and the way he read the Holy Scrolls.”

  “It’s not his fault you’re kind, Your Grace.” Luysa shook her head. “And it’ll do him good to minister to the common folk once again. I must say I’m rather shocked at Duke Desmond, leaving you so long without spiritual support. I don’t care what you did, it’s not right. Even the worst murderers in the dungeon see a chaplain once a week.”

  “What is it everyone thinks I’ve done?” Kendryk asked.

  “Depends on who you ask.” For the first time, there was the barest gleam of amusement in Luysa’s hard gray eyes. “The young girls are sure you challenged the duke to a duel, likely over a woman.”

  “Hah,” Kendryk said, gratified that at least some people assumed he had that kind of experience.

  “The young men think you talked back to him, tried to overthrow the regency so you could rule on your own.”

  “A little closer, but not quite,” Kendryk said. “That’s not too bad, I suppose.”

  “But some people say ...” now the priestess was watching him closely. “Some people say you were trying to bring a foreign army to invade Terragand and wrote to the Sanovan queen, offering her a piece of Terragand if she’d help you overthrow Duke Desmond.”

  “That’s untrue,” Kendryk said, even as his heart sank. That story was exactly the kind of tale Desmond liked to spread, and anyone who didn’t know Kendryk, or just liked to believe the worst, might well find it plausible.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Luysa said. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you’ve done? I’ll treat this as a formal confession and keep it in the strictest confidence, in case you’re worried.”

  Kendryk had had no one to complain to in so long, the whole story poured out, right through his letters to officers serving abroad. He didn’t say who’d betrayed him, and Mother Luysa didn’t ask, just sat silently for a time.

  “Well,” she finally said, “I’m no legal expert, but it seems you only did what you thought was best. And a boy your age, it’s hard to have someone always telling you what to do. I’m not saying the duke was wrong, only that I’m sure you didn’t have any bad intentions. But what I think doesn’t matter. Come now.”

  She stood and gave Kendryk her hand. “Let’s kneel at Vica’s altar, and we’ll pray for her forgiveness. I’m sure she’ll grant it.”

  Together they went to the little altar set into the wall next to Kendryk’s bed, Vica’s icon looking down on them. He’d prayed to her every morning and night, but this was different, Luysa’s solid bulk beside him, her deep voice intoning the prayer only one ordained by the Temple could speak.

  Even if she couldn’t help him get out of here, she’d made him feel better already.

  “Thank you,” Kendryk said when they had finished. Before she left he wanted to try one more thing.

  “Listen,” he said as they stood at the door. “I don’t mind if you tell others of my confession.”

  “I’m not supposed to.” Luysa gave him a stern look, though it didn’t seem unkind.

  “I know,” Kendryk said. “But I feel awful that folk see me as some kind of traitor. I’d never want to bring any harm to Terragand.”

  “Of course.” Luysa nodded, then patted his hand. “Tell you what. If anyone starts in on that, I’ll just say I have it on good authority it isn’t true. How’s that?”

  “That’s perfect.” Kendryk smiled. Now he had to hope someone with the power to help him might hear the truth.

  The Torner Farm, Terragand

  “YOU’RE WELCOME TO STAY with us,” Sonya told Irena as they rode through the center of Runewald. “But you might want to stay here instead. It’s a good-sized town, and might be entertaining. I can’t promise as much at my father’s place.”

  “From your stories, there’s plenty of entertainment with your family,” Irena said with a laugh. “No, we’re on a mission, and I’m staying with you.”

  “I don’t plan to linger,” Sonya said. “But it’s a good way to find out what’s going on without attracting attention. My sister is a tremendous gossip and will be up-to-date on all the latest happenings in the kingdom. Some of her stories might even be true.”

  In spite of everything, Sonya was glad to be going home. It helped that her visit promised to be short, but she hadn’t been back since she left over seven years ago.

  Her sister wrote once every few months, so she at least knew everyone was well. Sonya hadn’t written that she was coming, wanting to keep everything about her mission as quiet as possible.

  “Now,” she said to Irena, as they left the walls of the town behind and headed down a country road, the mud frozen hard, “as far as my family is concerned, we’re here on regimental business. Let’s keep it vague and boring. Make noises about raising funds and recruitment, military opportunities in Zeelund. That’s good enough reason for us to go to Heidenhof. Nothing about the prince.”

  “But how will we find out what’s going on with him if we don’t ask?”

  “If anything is going on, my sister will never stop talking about it. And
she’ll have opinions and theories too. We must sort out the facts from that, but it’s a start.”

  It was cold out here. Sonya and Irena had been wearing their red coats again, once they’d left the threat of Briansk behind. A freezing mist lay over the land, even though it was mid-day, and frost coated every bare branch and every dried-up blade of grass. At least it hadn’t snowed lately, so the roads remained clear.

  Sonya pulled a woolen scarf over her mouth and nose, and they rode in silence for time, the only sound the clopping of the horses and donkey’s hoofs on the hard surface of the road. She began to wonder if she’d forgotten where the turnoff was when she saw it, a small lane veering off the road at an angle. In the distance stood a small bridge, confirming that this was the right path.

  Zeki seemed to sense her eagerness and picked up his pace. Sonya let him, now they were so close. The donkeys seemed happy to follow. Perhaps they hoped hurrying would bring them warmth and food that much sooner.

  Over the bridge—the stream below frozen hard—another quarter league, then the trees opened onto a clearing and they were there. The big half-timber house stood at the center of bare, frozen fields, smoke rising from an enormous stone chimney. Hopefully Adryena was baking.

  Outbuildings, including a large barn, surrounded a cobbled courtyard, into which Sonya and Irena rode. No one was about, unsurprising, considering the cold.

  “To the barn,” Sonya said. “We’ll take care of the animals first.”

  She dismounted at the barn door, and pulled at it. It wasn’t latched, so she opened it and walked through, leading Zeki and the donkeys attached to him.

  The sound of a saw came from a corner, but it halted.

  “Is it time for coffee already?” That was her brother Dominyk’s voice.

  “I have no idea,” Sonya said, a smile spreading across her face as she looked around for him.

  He came toward her now, wiping his hands on his breeches, squinting in the gloom.

  Sonya’s eyes adjusted and she saw he looked the same as before. Well, not exactly. When she’d gone, Dominyk had been a boy of sixteen, now he was twenty-three. He’d already been tall and broad-shouldered then, now he was taller and thicker, and heavy stubble covered his face. Sonya had always been annoyed that her brother had been the pretty one, but there seemed to be little left of that now.