Her arms reached up, the jam in one hand, to shield her head as she crumbled and went down the steps. Each bang echoed through her body as she slammed down the steps and came to rest at the bottom.
Unsure if moving was a good idea, Cassie laid still for a moment and tried not to breathe. There was a ringing in her ears, and the left side of her face stung. Then she registered how every part of the left side of her body throbbed. It felt almost as though the beat of a drum was making its way up and down her body. In the distance, she could almost swear she heard the snide laughter of Petunia and Aven.
“Good one!” Petunia’s voice shouted above her.
“I should have known,” she whispered and then groaned. “Do. Not. Move.”
Obviously, I need to take up some sort of training. Burnt eggs haven’t gotten y point across. Perhaps I should help father in the fields more often. Then I'd be too strong for them to antagonize. With that thought came another, at least they didn't lock me in here this time.
The snap of the doors above had her jerking and sent sharp, shooting pains everywhere. She closed her eyes and sucked deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. They had delighted locking her in here as a child more than once. She should have known.
“Holy mackerel,” she whispered, as the pain pulsed. Slowing her breaths, she attempted to raise herself onto her elbow. “Ouch!”
With effort, she finally sat up, her left elbow held in her right hand. She needed to find the flashlight. It meant climbing the stairs, but at least there would be light. Cassie pulled herself to her knees and then to her feet, all the while grunting. By the time she stood, she felt like a princess.
“I'm sure a princess would be trained for all sorts of horrible falls and nasty things,” she told herself, “Especially if said princess had an evil stepsister and stepbrother, which, don’t seem to be only made-up in stories.”
Limping to the stairs, she crawled her way up. “This is a golden staircase and when I reach the top, I will find my Prince Charming, and we shall ride away from this horrid house together. The end.”
Grasping her left arm, she shook her head and then stopped when the darkness began to spin. “Bad idea, Cassie. You can’t joke about silly things like that. There isn’t hope for a Prince Charming in this world. The only prince we have is probably just like Aven and Petunia. You’d think world wars might annihilate all the bad people, but they don’t. War just makes things harder for everyone else.”
She didn’t have any experience with war, of course. The last one had left the planet devastated, and they hadn’t ever fully recovered. The King of Dalry was trying to keep the peace and make the world an economically friendly place to live as his great-great grandfather before him. Or as they liked to call it: “getting back to the basics.”
Cassie even making up a story about marrying the prince was so far-fetched, she paused on a stare and started to laugh. “Ow,” she muttered, “Where’s a television when you need one?”
They weren’t allowed to watch television anymore. They had a radio the whole family could use, but televisions took up too much electricity. Less is more, according to the king. In his favor, the same restrictions he applied to his kingdom also applied to him and his family.
“Enough dawdling,” Cassie chided and came up to the doors.
Trying the handles and finding them locked indeed, Cassie groaned. Pushing and pushing on the handles did no good, which she knew quite well, and only caused her sides and arms to hurt even more. Putting them on her lap, she took a seat and laid her head against the top step.
“It's time to plan my next revenge. Perhaps I should put a heavy dose of dirt into their jam? Or maybe I need to find all the earthworms in the garden and put them in their beds? Or maybe I could just punch them both in the nose. Hard. Right in the nose.”
These thoughts gave her momentary pleasure, until she acknowledged they would get her in trouble and not the other way around. If her father would stop living in a fog and wake up, then she might have him on her side for once!
The next second her head lifted. There had been a sound. She was sure of it. The wind? Maybe. A footstep? Perhaps. There was the slightest chance they were coming to let her out. Her father might already have returned. Someone was there. She was sure of it!
“Help!” she called. “I'm in the cellar! Please! Petunia? Aven? Come, let me out!” She called and called.
Another noise sounded, and then all was silent.
“Father, are you out there? Someone?” Lips and throat dry, Cassie wondered if the sounds were all in her imagination. She tried to peek through the slits in the wooden doors. She saw light but nothing else.
“I am alone,” she muttered, “but at least I have my flashlight. I’m not completely in the dark.” She picked it up and turned it back on. “That’s a blessing. Perhaps there’s something amongst the jars here to aid me. Although, I doubt it.”
She slowly slid down the stairs and began to search the room. Nothing of benefit could be found to assist her out of this predicament.
“Wait until I get out of here.” She limped to the stairs again. “I am going to come up with a plan so brilliant that those horrible creatures will never be able to do this to me again!”
Cassie smiled and waved her flashlight toward the doors. She was thrown off balance by a sudden spasm on her left side. Her return climb to the top was interrupted by a trip, a smash, an “Ouch!”, and then a slam. The flashlight flew from her hand, fell with a smash, and flickered out.
“Never mind. I take it back,” she spoke into the dark and groaned.
2
Kingdom of Dalry, Castle Dalry
Rupert picked the envelope up off the front step with a wrinkled nose and pulled brows. It was dirty and thin. Turning it from one side to the other, he wondered if the mail person had dropped it when presenting him with the King’s mail earlier that day.
“Mr. Rupert, what is it?” A young footman crowded in at the front door.
Turning a thin-lipped scowl to the younger man, Rupert cleared his throat and held the envelope up. “A letter, Lewis. Did you finish polishing the silverware?”
“Yes, Mr. Rupert. I was wondering what you wanted me to do next?” Standing straight, Lewis put his hands behind his back and awaited instructions.
“Please tell Mrs. Clare to prepare tea now for the King and Queen. I must take this letter right into them.”
“Of course,” Lewis nodded but didn’t retreat.
“What is it, Lewis?”
Starting to shrug, Lewis dropped his shoulders, and said, “I only wondered if you might need me to do anything else after I relay the message.”
“No, Lewis. You may have your own tea. I’m sure you’ve polished the silver to perfection.”
Lewis nodded and took a step back before turning on his heal and retreating to the back of the house.
Rupert took a deep breath and let it out. “By the Grace of God,” he muttered. If their last footman hadn’t decided to marry and move away, he wouldn’t be taking over the duty of teaching the new man.
Jobs at the castle were desired by all in the kingdom because it meant steady room and board. After interviewing several candidates, Rupert had been pressed into taking on the cook’s cousin by marriage. Relations under one roof when in a working atmosphere were against Rupert’s ideas of How Things Should Be Done. However, the boy was nice enough.
Shaking his head, Rupert looked at the envelope again. He took a glance around outside before closing the front doors and locking them. Retrieving the mail tray, he laid the letter on top of it and hurried to the library.
King Tritium lounged behind his desk with a book in hand. The windows were wide open behind him and let in a rustle of wind and plenty of sunlight. He had a small smile on his lips, and they moved silently with the words.
The king's wife, Queen Arlyn, sat upon an overstuffed chair across the room with her own book. A basset hound curled upon her lap. Despite t
he growing puppy's size, the queen allowed him to stay there. The queen rubbed her fingers over the pup's ears and flipped a page with the other hand.
Taking the tray with the envelope upon it up to his king, the butler bowed deep and waited for acknowledgment.
“Rupert, old boy!” The king burst out. “What have you brought us? Another notice of an upcoming wedding in the town?”
King Tritium laughed and beckoned his wife over with a hand. Her own head had raised at her husband's boisterous tone, and she set her book to the side and her dog on the floor before consenting to his request.
A smile on her face, the queen questioned, “Are you hoping for another wedding announcement, Tritium? Rupert, do you suppose the king is hoping to marry off the whole kingdom?”
The butler smiled and inclined his head at Queen Arlyn without supplying an answer. The old man straightened to his full height. He stood silent, waiting to see if the king would need anything else.
“No, no, no Arlyn. I don't mean that. I am always delighted with weddings, of course, as long as I don't have to attend them.” His voice and then his whole body shook with laughter as he broke the seal on the envelope.
“Let's see here. Perhaps it is a letter from our son. I imagine he is about ready to return and begin his training here on the takeover of the kingdom.”
“You are way too young to be thinking such things yet, my dear,” the queen said.
“Bah!” he chuckled, looked at the front of the envelope once more, before opening the letter. “There is no return address.”
“Really?” asked Queen Arlyn. “How strange. What does it say?”
Eyes narrowing, the King sputtered, “It is a warning.”
“A warning?” The surprise in Queen Arlyn's voice was thick. “What kind of warning?”
“Read it for yourself, my queen.”
Carefully, Queen Arlyn plucked the letter from his fingers with a shiver. Her spine jerked upright as an ominous chill ran through her, and her eyes perused the short letter:
* * *
Dear King Tritium,
You may not recall to mind who I am, but I assure you, before the end of this letter you will know. Bring to mind a previous life, when you claimed to love another woman. One who wasn't the good Queen Arlyn. Do you remember now? I thought you might. It is my best intention to remind you of the night of your engagement party. I enacted a curse which would come to pass because of your cruelty. Now is the time for that curse to reach its maturity and teach you the lesson you so richly deserve. I hope you won't be very disappointed. I know I won't be.
Sincerely, Your First Love
* * *
“Impossible,” Queen Arlyn breathed. “She's dead. The night of the engagement. The weird light we all saw. The note the next day of her demise. What does this mean?”
“I do not know.” The king shook his head slowly and cast unfocused eyes around the room. “I don't know. Is it a trick? Rupert!” His gaze flew upward. “Where did this message come from? Who left it at our door?”
The butler's shoulders raised and lowered as he shook his head. “I don't know, Your Majesty. There was a knock on the door, and when I opened it, no one stood upon the stoop. Only this letter lay there. Although I found it strange, I immediately brought it to you.”
The king nodded once and looked back over the letter.
“I thought she was dead,” he whispered.
The queen's eyes met the butler's own with a small shake of her head. This was not good news.
“What would you have me do, My Lord?” Rupert inquired, his mind already coming up with his own plans.
“Call my adviser to me. Send for him immediately, Rupert. Also, inform the guards of a possible assassin. Double the measures being taken to secure this kingdom. Send out our best informants to search for this woman,” came the rapid and concise commands.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Rupert bowed and departed at once.
“Tritium, what would you like me to do?”
“Write to King Iver and inform him of the situation. Ensure he keeps our son with him instead of sending him home as planned. Simon must not come home to this. We need to know what is happening and deal with it. I do not want him becoming leverage.”
The queen nodded, kissed her husband on the head, and called to her dog before departing. Adviser Atkins was at the door almost a minute after it had shut behind the queen.
“My King, I have heard from Rupert that a serious matter is upon us. What is it?”
Stepping up to the desk, Atkins bowed low before standing straight in expectation. King Tritium waved his hand at the seat across from him, and Atkins sank into it without his eyes ever leaving the king's face.
“This letter just came. I am afraid of what it might mean.”
Atkins took the letter and read over its contents. He read it three times before lifting his eyes once more. “So, she is alive.”
The king nodded. “I always suspected the possibility, but after finding the remains of the burnt forest and not hearing from her for over two decades, I began to think I was wrong. Then this showed up. Right on the eve of my son's predicted return. Simon was to arrive at the first of the month. That, of course, is not going to happen. I will not allow him to come here and be amid this.”
“He will not appreciate your command, sire.”
“No, no, he will not. He won't like it at all, I predict. However, I've no time for his wants when his need is to be away from here. The lady in question is said to be a witch.” His eyes found his Adviser's once more and held them fast.
“I am aware, sir. Should we plan for war then?”
“We plan for everything. I have no idea when or where or how she will act. We must be ready and expect the worse, I am afraid. The night of the engagement, when we all saw the blast of light and the forest went up in flames, I thought it was the end. I knew she never forgave me for telling her we couldn’t be together.”
“You were following your father’s desire for continued peace,” Atkins responded.
“I was also responding to my heart. I fell in love with Queen Arlyn from the moment my eyes fell on her. Of course, it is unusual for such an occurrence to happen. At the time, I thought I might be in love with Carla. I felt terrible when I thought she committed suicide, and I’m torn with relief she’s alive and guilt.”
Atkins held silent. He recalled the night of the engagement. The scene danced before his eyes even now. The kingdom, no one had been excluded, had been stuffed into the large ballroom, dancing and laughing, when a flash of light had come through the wall of windows and nearly blinded all of them.
Screams had echoed, platters of food and wine had crashed to the ground, people clung to one another in fear. The flash had come and gone quickly, and then people had crushed to the window wondering what had occurred. A blood-red moon greeted their eyes through a fog.
King Agar and Queen Aster, King Tritium's parents, had dispatched knights to investigate instantly, but their return only told of the young girl's death and the insinuation of her pagan dealings. Fear ran rampant through the kingdom until the girl's family left three days later.
The mystery of the flash was never solved, although the burnt trees in the woods signified an ominous event had transpired. King Agar had asked his son to wait a year to wed, as a search went underway for the witch, wanting the incident put behind them before seeing his son move forward. With a tragic world war behind them, no one wanted another to arise.
“Will the council be prepared?” King Tritium asked.
Atkins pulled himself from the memory and responded, “Yes, Your Grace. Your council, as you know, has been training for and researching this type of predicament since the last World War. We have a few people versed in the art of witchcraft, and they will be more than willing to instruct and assist us.”
“Good, good. I am glad to hear my father's plans were not superfluous. After the night of the engagement, my father was convinced we must be on watc
h and learn all we could about how the dark arts could be used. I am glad to know it was money well spent. My mother had been against it. I don't blame her, but I am almost happy that father did not heed her in this one instance. One must always be prepared.”
Silence fell on both men as they became lost in their own thoughts. One considering the past, and the other making a mental checklist of all that he must accomplish.
“When can the council be ready to meet, Atkins? What do you think should be our first step?”
“I would suggest posting double and even triple the guards. I will see to it immediately. Also, I think we should send out men to check the surrounding area for any information. There are several men who are old enough to remember her. We will request their assistance.” Atkins suggested.
“I will also check the local townships to see if there are any newcomers to the area,” he continued. “If we look through them all, we may come across someone who could be her. It may be a good idea, Your Majesty, to let our allies know about the situation in case we must call upon their aid.”
The king nodded through all of this and said, “I have requested Rupert post double the sentinels. I know you will ensure all the rest. My wife is writing a letter now to King Iver to request his delay of my son's departure.”
Steepling his fingers together, he added, “Gather the councilmen together first thing tomorrow morning to go over strategy, tactics, and knowledge of what we can do to counteract any attack by magic.”
“At once, Your Highness!” Atkins bowed low and exited the room.
King Tritium stood and walked to the window. He gazed outside upon the front lawn overlooking the lush garden. Bushes abstracted his view slightly. The scene in front of him was lovely but could have obscured anyone seeing an approach by the woman in question.
The Four Tales Page 3