As he rose back to his feet, she watched his steps. He had a quick pace. That would surely lessen the time she had. Her heart was racing with excitement. The thrill of being caught. It was the same she felt that night in Tanispa when Feolan had hidden her away in his carriage from the guards. Maybe the adrenaline would give her the strength she needed to reach the ink and parchment.
She waited until the door clicked shut behind him, cutting her off from view of the rest of the house. Speed would be her only downfall. She would have to make every motion slow and precise. It was only a few steps and then she could use the desk as a support to make her way around it.
Slowly she climbed to her feet. The height of the chair made the action easier. Less distance to cover. Her heart beat hard against her chest, adding to the trembling of her limbs. Shuffling forward, she held her outstretched hands to the desk, her weight falling against it to hold her body up. She was there. The hardest part of her task was over, though returning to the chair would be difficult. And how would she hide the letter?
Why did she always jump into things without thinking over all of the details? She would have to work on that in the future. Luck had helped her through to this point, but she couldn’t count on it to always be there to save her. She was already at the desk, though. There was no sense in turning back now. Her legs were sliding carefully across the floor, her hands shifting to keep her body supported. Almost to the other side. Just a few more steps to go.
There. On the surface of the desk was an open bottle of ink, a blackened-tipped quill resting alongside it. That would make things easier for her. Hiding a freshly opened bottle would have been much more difficult.
Her eyes glanced up to the door, listening intently for any hint of someone’s approach. Silence. Good. She still had time.
Sliding a piece of blank parchment to the center of the desk, she lifted the quill into her right hand, dipping it anxiously into the ink. The words scrawled messily under her unsteady hands. She had to wonder if Thade would even be able to read the mess of ink and garbled letters she was putting to the paper. Something simple.
Your Grace,
I apologize for not having written you sooner. All will come in time. Please be assured that I am safe and all is well for now. When I am able, you will hear from me again.
Sincerely,
Your loyal servant
Someone was coming. In the distance, the echo of their footsteps could be heard through the empty halls. Frantically she laid the quill back down on the desk next to the ink bottle where she’d found it. She’d used as little ink as possible, keeping it faint and light against the thick parchment to allow it to soak in quickly. There was no time to worry about it smearing. She needed to get back to her chair and somehow conceal the letter.
Folding it into a tiny square, she pressed it down into the bodice of her dress, thankful for the extra fabric of this one from her last. The parchment was uncomfortable, but other than a tiny lump, was unnoticeable without looking closely. And she hoped that Kael wouldn’t be looking that closely at her chest.
With hastened steps, she slid along the side of the desk, making her way back to the front. The footsteps were getting closer. Almost to the door now. In one last frenetic motion, she threw herself toward the chair, the sound of it scratching across the hard floor loudly filling the room around her. Her body collapsed to the ground. The force jarred her face, sending a wave of pain through her nose up to her forehead.
As the door opened, she laid there helplessly. Her breath came in short spurts of air, her chest heaving with the strain she had put on herself in her haste. “Eleni!” Kael sounded concerned. She could hear his footsteps along with someone else’s, rushing to her side to check on her. Oriane. The strange complexion of her skin was unmistakable.
“I… I must have fainted,” Leyna lied, playing up the role dramatically. If they gave out awards for such performances, she would have taken one, without doubt. Increasing the frequency of her breaths, she let her eyes roll back in her head, relaxing her muscles to lie heavily on the floor. She was deadweight in Kael’s arms as he tried to lift her to her feet. Oriane stood by in confusion, fanning her hands at Leyna’s face to create a soft breeze.
“The fresh air will do her good, but I insist that you keep the tour short,” Kael instructed. Gently, he stepped over closer to Oriane, gesturing toward her to help hold Leyna up. “Try to have her back inside to her room before the sun gets much higher in the sky. The heat will harm her like this. Do you think you can support her down the stairs?”
For the sake of Oriane’s weak arms, Leyna regained control over most of her movements, supporting her own weight with the help of Oriane to keep her upright. “I will be fine. I just was dizzy. It is getting better.”
“I will not keep her long, sir,” Oriane nodded obediently. Kael released his hold, the look in his eyes revealing the concern for her that he felt. He didn’t want to let her go. He looked almost afraid, in a way. Afraid that Oriane would drop her, or otherwise be unable to prevent her from injury.
Noticing Leyna watching him, he turned away, hiding his face from view. Without a word, he walked away from them, disappearing into the deeper rooms of his chambers. He hadn’t noticed the letter. For now, it had slipped by him. If only she could do the same with Oriane, then it would be a success.
An unusual longing sensation came over her at the sight of the empty doorway where Kael had gone. It hurt her to know that she was lying to him. But it had to be so. She had no choice for now. All she could do was focus on getting her letter to the Consul to let him know she was still there – and prove that the hurt she was causing him would be well worth it, in the end.
Chapter Ten
The cool morning air felt good to Leyna’s aching senses. After only a week out of the cellar, she could already feel her strength returning, invigorating her with a new determination for her task.
It had taken little time for her letter to the Consul to disappear from its hiding place in the fence. While enduring Oriane’s tour, she had found a moment of privacy in which to conceal it, locating a portion of mortar to have cracked and chipped through, allowing her to deliver it without having to exit the perimeter of the property. To hide the parchment from view, she had collected a handful of soil from the flower bed below, pressing it into the hole behind it. By the next morning, she found the letter to be gone, though who had taken it remained unknown.
Days had passed since then. It seemed as though if it had been discovered by someone from the house, word of a suspected traitor would have spread. Things however couldn’t have been more calm and quiet. Not a word had been heard from Mikel or Oksuva, their presence scarce, or at least to her. They perhaps didn’t frequent the gardens where Leyna spent the daylight hours.
Wrapping the ribbons of her wide sun hat around her chin, she prepared herself for the work ahead of her. A week had passed since she last rid the front flower beds of their weeds. The area went overlooked since her first day when she’d checked for the progress of her letter. It was imperative that she not show any favor to one particular area for fear of drawing any unwanted attention. Someone might grow suspicious if she was always lingering about the dilapidated section of the fence.
Enough time had passed now for her to return to it. She had no letter to send out, to her own dismay. The work around the yards was in her hands, for most of the day. There were few others to whom she spoke or even passed by from the time she woke to the time she returned to her room at night. Information was not yet abundant, and it would be too great a risk to send unnecessary correspondence.
She knelt down in the damp, dew covered grass, feeling the moisture soaking into the fibers of her dress. It was a comforting feeling. A connection between her and the earth, refreshing the natural energy within her body.
Leaning forward, she began to pluck at the tiny weeds that had begun to poke up through the rich soil, something catching her attention out of the corner of her eye. The
hole in the fence was darker. Light was blocked from shining through, but why? She had removed the dirt she’d placed there. It was necessary in order to verify her letter had been collected. In finding it gone, she had left the hole as it was, filtering a sliver of light through from the other side of the fence. But that light was no longer visible. Something was blocking it.
Sitting up straight, she looked around the yard, trying to appear nonchalant. It was too early for there to be many people awake, and the other servants tended to remain in the house until after breakfast had been served.
Satisfied there was no one watching, she moved in closer to the hole, sticking her fingers inside hesitantly. There. The feeling of something pressing against her fingertips. It was difficult to grasp in the enclosed space. She had to press it against the cool stone with her index finger, slowly edging it closer to the opening. Her eyes never ceased to look around the area, afraid someone might see what she was doing. How suspicious she must look! Her constant watchfulness was sure to draw the attention of anyone who might have been there. But there was no one. And her hand was conveniently concealed behind a well pruned shrubbery decorating the fence line. If anyone were to see her, they would have to reveal themselves in order to get close enough to determine what she was doing.
Finally freeing the item from the tiny space, she stared down at it silently. A piece of parchment. Meticulously folded. Every edge was perfectly aligned, showing the care that had gone into each crease. More precise than the frantic wrinkled mess which she placed in there herself. She was curious if the words had been legible at all by the time it reached the hands of its courier.
Despite everything that she had suffered in her time there, the novelty of her mission still remained with her. In her heart, she was still like a child, her excitement rising at the thought of receiving some secret message intended for only her eyes to see. By now, it felt as though the wonder of it would have faded, replaced by the harsh truth. That wasn’t the case. Although reality had certainly sunk in, it didn’t curb her racing heart at the sight of the letter she held in her hands. Who could it be from? Zander? Maeri would have had nothing to write worth endangering the mission. She wouldn’t have been so careless.
There was no time to read it now. It would be too hard to conceal it once she opened it, making it too obvious to any passerby that she was doing more than merely pulling the unsightly weeds from around the flowers. Carefully she tucked it into the neckline of her dress, pressing it down around her breast. It would have to stay there until her work was finished for the day. Once in the privacy of her own room, she would then have an opportunity to investigate it further.
“Eleni, is it?”
Leyna thought her heart had ceased to beat in her chest. She froze, afraid to move. The woman’s voice was too confident to be one of the other servants. An air of intelligence rang through the words, each syllable pronounced perfectly and precisely, the way Faustine had stressed a lady should speak. “It is, yes. Milady…”
“Hush yourself. I will make it very clear to you when you are to speak and when to stop.” Her tone was biting. “Stand up and face me. I want to see you for myself.”
How much had she seen? Leyna had not heard the sound of anyone approaching. She shuddered at the thought of this woman having witnessed everything.
Slowly she rose to her feet, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Her eyes remained lowered to the ground respectfully. She waited fearfully for the woman’s hand to reach out to her dress and snatch the parchment from where she had hidden it beneath her breast. Instead, the woman remained perfectly still, eyeing her coldly with detestation. “So scrawny. Pathetic really.”
Catching Leyna’s chin in her hand, the woman forced her gaze up from the ground, staring her in the eye, unflinchingly, allowing Leyna a glimpse of her face. The blonde woman from the table at the party. Oksuva. Her hair was down, hanging in long waves over her shoulders. It covered her ears from sight, but the glow of her eyes was unmistakable. Not as bright as a full Vor’shai. She was curious why a man of Ven’shal heritage would have sought a woman like her. The mixture of the Vor’shai blood seemed an unlikely candidate for him to take interest in as a lover rather than just another enemy. It didn’t make any sense to Leyna, but now was hardly the time to ponder over it.
“You cause me a great dilemma,” Oksuva stated, releasing her hold on Leyna’s chin roughly. “My insolent sister gave you to my husband as a gift, knowing how I would disapprove of the idea. As you come from her, however, I would be thought rude to have you sent away. I want you as far away from my husband’s grasp as possible, but I cannot do that without sending you away, or having you killed. On the other hand, Kael pleads with me to spare your life, and I value his loyalty too much to risk him turning on me. So what to do with you, I ask?”
Leyna didn’t dare to speak. The comment sounded more rhetorical than an actual request for a response. She didn’t want to anger this woman again by talking out of turn.
“It was suggested to me that I find a way to keep you close to me, in order to assure my husband has little opportunity to find you alone.” She walked from one side of Leyna to the other, looking her over appraisingly, clearly disapproving of what she saw before her. “Sadly, my ladies have requirements which I doubt you possess.”
Letting out a quiet breath of relief, Leyna felt her muscles relaxing. Oksuva couldn’t have seen her retrieve the letter from the fence. She was certainly not the type who would have let such a thing remain unspoken. But how should she react to the statements being made? This woman was offering her exactly what she wanted, but she was in no position to argue her qualifications for the job. From the sounds of things, Kael had already done a good bit of talking on her behalf.
“Any woman who tends to me must know how to fight. I deal with business ventures that are not the most savory and at times are known to turn dangerous. My attendants are charged with my safety in these situations. Tell me, you wretched excuse for a woman, can you fight?
She wanted to laugh. Could she fight? Of course she could – but would that be the most appropriate response? Slaves were not usually skilled at the finer points of combat. To give such a strong assurance of her abilities would look out of place for someone of her supposed low status. “A little, Milady. But I am a fast learner –”
“Hold your tongue.”
Leyna closed her mouth, cutting off the rest of her sentence awkwardly. Oksuva seemed to have already made up her mind before approaching her, making anything Leyna could say meaningless.
“You will finish up your chores in the gardens today. Tomorrow, after breakfast, you are to meet Kael at the training ring in the courtyard. I will leave it to him to determine if you are, as you claim, a fast learner,” she scoffed. “If in a month’s time you are able to hold your own in a contest, overseen by my husband and I both, then I will consider raising you from your current position.”
Shifting her gaze back down to the ground, Leyna bobbed in a quick curtsy, unsure of how else to respond without speaking. Oksuva gave no indication that she required a reply, not even a thank you. She wasn’t doing this for thanks. She was doing this to keep Mikel away from Leyna. She hated Leyna, simply for being what she was. A Vor’shai owned by her unfaithful spouse. She was miserable. Leyna could see it in the depths of her glowing Esai eyes.
With a flick of her long blonde hair over her shoulders, she turned away from Leyna, having nothing else to say to her. What more could she say? One month. Leyna would have one month to get her strength up enough to prove to Oksuva that she was capable of physical combat. Capable of being one of Oksuva’s ladies. Then she would be at Oksuva’s side, to hear what dark plots she might weave, and who her accomplices were which helped her plan the demise of the Vor’shai people. The people of whose blood she shared in her own veins. A traitor to her own half-blood family.
That explained Mikel’s interest in her. He had a strange obsession with the Vor’shai, in that he physica
lly desired them while at the same time longed to cause them pain and suffering. Was that why he did the things he did to his wife? Or did he truly love her, if only for the fact that she hated her own people and was an outcast amongst them? He must have said or done something to rekindle the fear Leyna saw written in the depths of Oksuva’s features. She was convinced Mikel wanted her for more than just weeding the garden or cleaning the floors.
The worst part about it all was that Leyna couldn’t disagree with the concern. She herself feared it. The way he had looked at her when Gislan and Kael presented her at his party. Lustful, at first, seizing then the opportunity to force his hand upon her with violence. Putting her in her place. Showing her that she was his slave and he was her master. Making her fear him so that he could coerce her into whatever disgusting thoughts he might have been concocting in his evil head.
Her heart was racing. It pounded hard against her chest at the sight of Oksuva’s slender figure walking away, moving gracefully back toward the front door of the house, giving no pause to look over her shoulder. Leyna was a slave, after all. No reason to care whether or not she was watching. She meant nothing to Oksuva other than as competition with her own husband. How utterly sad the thought was.
The quickened pulse of her blood through her body was uncomfortable, causing Leyna to tingle awkwardly, anxiously, afraid to move in case anyone else was watching. Placing her hand over her chest, she could feel the thud of her heart, the folded corners of the tiny parchment pressing against her skin through the dress, held tightly in place between her hand and her breast. More than ever she wanted to read it, but she’d nearly been caught once already. Now was not the time. Kael had managed to open an opportunity for her that she couldn’t have planned herself. Unwittingly he placed her exactly where she needed to be. She just had to do her part to make sure it worked.
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 31