by D. E. Morris
Men and women were already milling about the castle in hopes of catching the eye of either Jaryn or Ashlynn, stealing a moment or two of their time that they would later exaggerate into elaborate conversations when bragging to their friends. Ashlynn learned long ago that to even glance in the direction of an onlooker was enough encouragement to launch a person into speeches. For this reason she kept her gaze forward as she walked, hand in hand with Rowan. Her three ladies trailed behind her with Lochlainn and his nanny behind them, two castle guards bringing up the rear. Crowds parted, conversations halted, heads bowed and knees bent as the procession passed, then continued on as if there had been no interruption at all.
Altaine was large and contained many rooms with tall, wide windows that allowed in more sunlight than most castles, but one room in particular was Jaryn's favorite. It was an intimate, curved room, reserved for their closest company, and contained a round table which left no room for one to hold a more important position than another. It was in this favored room that she found everyone awaiting her. Wessely, Jaryn, Badru, and Tasarin rose as she entered, Cavalon hauling himself to his feet a sluggish moment behind. Without any verbal communication, Lilia took Rowan's hand so that Ashlynn could embrace Tasarin as tightly as she could manage.
“Iant mellon. Oio naa elealla alasse'.”
Tasarin was smiling as he let go of her and held her at arm's length. "Nae saian luum'. Arwenamin."
“Indeed it has been too long.” Ashlynn grinned up at him. “Only months, really, but I miss you and Luella as though it's been years.”
“Terrible that such a tragedy is what brings me back to Siness.”
Ashlynn nodded with a sigh and sat. “I have heard similar sentiments too often of late.” Everyone else at the table sat as well, though Tasarin stayed on his feet to offer a hand to Lilia, who took it with a questioning glance to Ashlynn.
“I am greatly grieved over the loss of your kinsman, my lady. Pierre has been here for many years and I knew him well.”
Lilia bowed her head graciously. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I take comfort in knowing he has gone home to be with his wife at last.”
“Your Majesty,” Cavalon echoed with great amusement. It made Tasarin retract his hand and turn around to face the table, no discernible expression on his face.
“It is a title I am getting used to myself.” Fixing his serene eyes upon the Badarian and Badru, he continued, “I am also greatly grieved over the loss of your sister.”
The smug expression disappeared from Cavalon's face, and Badru nodded. “Thank you.”
The elf returned to his chair, all business. “I have brought a small crate containing several vials of the salve I made last year when the water dragons were attacked by those demons. Suule was no less amused at my requesting the donation of his blood than he was when I asked it of his fallen brother last year.”
Ashlynn looked at Badru. “Unicorn blood is the key ingredient to the healing. Tasarin found he could use Nuala's Phoenix feathers as a base to the remedy, but the healing effect was fleeting.”
Badru's eyes lit up. “Is it because she is not a full-blooded Phoenix?”
Tasarin dipped his head. “I believe so, yes.”
“Badru is a bit of a potions maker himself,” Ashlynn supplied. “Tasarin, while he was here, was often found below with my physician, mixing up some concoction or another.”
“I would love to compare notes sometime,” said Badru eagerly.
“When we have less pressing matters at hand, I would enjoy that greatly.” His gaze shifted, attention being drawn to something behind Ashlynn's seat. “This must be Rowan.”
Lilia stepped forward to place Rowan's hand into Ashlynn's, and Rowan hid partially behind the chair. “Come now,” said Ashlynn, “We're all friends here.” With gentle force she pulled the girl forward. “Say hello to Tasarin.”
She bent her head and gave a small curtsy.
“I was told she is blind, but is she mute as well?”
The question made Ashlynn frown and she looked at the little girl. “Quite the opposite, I assure you. Why so shy all of the sudden?” She ran a hand over Rowan's plaited hair. “She has been meeting quite a few new people in just the last day alone. Perhaps she is a bit overwhelmed.”
The elf returned his attention to Ashlynn. “I was informed High King Donnchadh has not been very forthcoming with information regarding Nealie.”
She nodded, a frown on her lips. “Rowan is from Lerranyth village and Nealie spent a great deal of her time in Ibays inside Lerranyth castle, according to what Cavalon and Badru have said. I find it hard to believe he had no knowledge of what happened to Rowan and what it meant. That Nealie had a child? I could forgive him his ignorance of that, surely. But to have this young girl go through such sudden and physical turmoil just outside his castle walls and simply send her away without a thought as to what could be wrong...”
Cavalon took a deep breath. “I'm the last person who wants to be defending Donnchadh, but there aren't a whole lot of people left in the world who know what an Elemental power transfer looks like. He can't be condemned on that alone. What makes me think he knows a lot more than he lets on is the fact that Badru wasn't allowed entrance into the castle on his own, neither of us was allowed in together until Cailin found us, and everything he said was guarded and calculated. Then when we went back with Jessiah-”
“The young man Donnchadh now has as a prisoner?” Tasarin asked.
Cavalon nodded gravely. “There are just too many things that don't add up for me. Even the coldest king has an idea of what is happening with his people. He has to. There is no way Donnchadh was that ignorant, especially if he and Nealie were as close as it sounds like they were. Something about the way he acted makes me think he's hiding a lot more than we can even guess right now. I'm close to going back there myself and pulling the kid out of there before something happens to him, but not before I have a word or two in private with that lying son of a-”
“Not every situation can be solved with violence.” Tasarin gave a delicate frown. “If Donnchadh has given a decree as to your standing within the castle and you enter, he is at liberty to do what he wants with you.”
Cavalon sneered. “I'd like to see him try.”
“Don't be an idiot,” Ashlynn chided. “You'd be walking into a lion's den. You're big and you're strong, Cavalon, but not so much so that the Ibayish armies would fall easily at your feet.”
“Not just my feet. Badru would be with me. Quite frankly, I'm disappointed you're not offering to come along as well.”
“I am not offering,” corrected Badru evenly.
Cavalon stared at him, incredulous. “I thought we were going to stick together in this. Nealie was our sister and it is our duty now to protect Rowan. If he had something to do with harm befallen to either of them-”
“It won't be solved with more violence,” argued Ashlynn. “What is it with you? Bash heads and ask questions after?”
“Yep.”
“Well sometimes when you bash heads there's no one left alive to talk once the dust settles.” She scowled, pushing aside Cavalon's annoying recklessness and working on a better plan. It didn't take long to weigh her options since they were so few. When she looked across the table at her husband and saw his concentrated look, she knew he'd come to the same conclusion she had.
“Donnchadh had a strong respect for Nir, my birth father,” she said at length. “When he was here at council before the war I felt that respect as well. He is not a man above reason.” Cavalon snorted, but she continued as if nothing had happened. “If anyone is to get through whatever kind of madness he may or may not have fallen into, I would like to think I have a fairer shot than either Cavalon or Badru.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” There was disappointment on Jaryn's face as he rose to lean across the back of his chair. “Can you not let someone else fight the battle for once? Must you always be throwing yourself to the forefront?”
The question made her brows draw together. “I'm not throwing myself anywhere. Badru tried to see Donnchadh and he refused. When he had Cavalon with him he lied to them and then threatened them if they ever went back to Ibays.”
“Exactly. Who knows how he'll react to you? Ashlynn, we have a baby now. You can't be a mother and a warrior queen at the same time.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
The room fell silent, thick with sudden tension. No one knew where to look as Ashlynn and Jaryn stared hard at each other, everyone else finding something interesting to examine on their clothing, on the floor, just on the other side of the window. Even Cavalon, who usually found at least some small amount of entertainment when others around him argued, fidgeted in his seat.
Rowan moved closer to Ashlynn and squeezed her hand.
Clearing his throat, Tasarin braved the quiet. “If I may, what other option do we have at this point? The goal is to assess the truthfulness of Donnchadh's story, is it not? And, if possible, to save this boy.”
“Yes.”
Lilia had spoken the word and now shrank back when all eyes fell upon her.
Jaryn cursed and turned away from the table to glare out the tall window behind him.
Feeling her defenses lower, Ashlynn let go of Rowan and walked around the table to stand before Jaryn. She pried his crossed arms down and took his hands in her own, pressing them to her lips as she peered up into his frustrated face. “I know you are afraid...”
“You bet your bottom I'm afraid.” His brow was creased and his hazel eyes were filled with dread. “It's not the same as it was before, when it was only you and me. We've started a family, we're running an entire nation, though I use the term 'we' very loosely because we all know you're doing a lot more than I am. You can't...” He checked himself at his wording. “You call Cavalon an idiot for walking into Lerranyth; what does that make you?”
“A bigger idiot.” Her smile up at him almost didn't work, but she could see the muscles around the edges of his mouth twitching. “You married me. You should have known what you were getting yourself into.”
Jaryn nodded and looked down in obvious defeat. “I should have.” He took a slow breath in and fixed his eyes on her as though trying to memorize every inch. Gradually he freed his hands from hers and framed her face. “How can I know you'll be safe?”
“Because I will go with her.”
Both turned to see Tasarin standing. As always it was hard to glean anything from his expression, but there was something fiery in his mossy green eyes. “Apparently Jessiah is from Caedia so I have the right to petition for him in Luella's name. I am the best candidate to accompany her. No harm shall come to Ashlynn. I will see to it.”
Ashlynn grinned. “See? Tasarin will come with me. All will be well.”
“Though I should like to make it as short a trip as possible.” For the first time since he'd arrived, emotion flitted across Tasarin's face, something quick and hard to identify until he gave a small smile. “My bride has been overcome with terrible sickness that will not leave her for a few more months.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in, then most everyone was congratulating him at once. “More babies!” Ashlynn exclaimed happily. “Tasarin, you must be thrilled!”
“I am. We both are, though Luella feels anything but glowing right now.” Ashlynn bit her lip and the elf shook his head. “I know what you would say. Do not even think it. I will go with you. She has her own ladies to take care of her, women throughout the castle who know far better ways to make her feel more comfortable than I. Besides, her pregnancy will lend more creedence to the fact that she is not with you to bargain for Jessiah's life herself.”
“Then we shall be off at once. Let me change before we leave. This is a visit of great importance and I want to dress appropriately.”
“No!”
Rowan wrenched her hand free of Lilia and ran in the direction of Ashlynn's voice. She barely missed running into the edge of the table and would have run head first into one of the empty chairs had Ashlynn not swiftly stepped around it and caught Rowan in her arms. The little girl began talking rapidly in Ibayish, too quickly for Ashlynn to keep up and she looked helplessly at Tasarin and Jaryn.
“She does not want you to leave,” translated Tasarin. “She fears she will lose you like she has lost her father. She did not have her mother growing up and she does not want Lochlainn to experience the same sadness she has.”
“Oh, Rowan...” Ashlynn hugged her close. “I'll come back. I promise.”
“No, you won't!” Her accent was thick, much thicker than Elas and closer to Jessiah. “He promised, too!”
“Your father?” She simply nodded, clinging to Ashlynn's waist. Feeling emotion rise within her, Ashlynn fought to keep her voice steady. “I give you my word, Rowan. I will not leave you.” She thought quickly, then reached up to take a blue jeweled comb from her hair, blonde waves tumbling down her back as she did so. “Give me your hand, heartling.” The comb was pressed into Rowan's palm and Ashlynn closed the little girl's fingers around it. “This comb is very precious to me.” With a glance at Wessely, she smiled. “It belonged to my mother, Emiline, one of the gentlest, kindest women I have ever known. I want you to hold onto it and keep it safe for me until I come back. Can you do that for me? Can you accept this as a promise that I won't be gone forever?”
Rowan's fingers trailed over the comb, her teary eyes faraway as her sense of touch helped form a picture in her mind of the object she held. Eventually she sniffled and nodded.
“Do you want me to put it in your hair?”
Another nod and Ashlynn took the comb, placing it gently among the folds of Rowan's braids and ribbons, settling it like a crown to glitter in the sunlight. “There. Just like a princess. Can you go with my ladies now? Play with Lochlainn so he won't even know I'm gone?” One more nod and she slipped her hand into Lilia's.
“Be safe,” said the winged woman, more of a command than a farewell, before leaving with the other women behind her.
Ashlynn pressed a hand to her stomach and let out a breath. “My heart will break when Rowan leaves here.”
“She seems to be quite taken with you,” Badru observed, a bit of wonder in his tone. “She barely even spoke a word to us yesterday, even in Ibayish.”
“She has never had a mother,” said Ashlynn, “no woman to love her as a little girl should be loved. She adores her father from everything she has told us, but every child needs a mother as well.”
“You'll do well to remember that,” Jaryn warned, only half teasing.
“Let me change into my finest court clothing and jewels. This will be a meeting of three kingdoms, two of which have much more money and military strength than the other. Let us not let Donnchadh forget that.”
Chapter Twenty
The midday sun beat down upon Siness heavily, thickening the air with humidity in a last-minute heat wave before autumn began to move in. Jaryn sat on the beach with a lute in his lap, playing a slow melancholy tune as he stared aimlessly across the sea. Gone were his court clothes, replaced with the familiar and much more comfortable faded brown kilt, boots, and linen Jacobite shirt with the sleeves rolled up the way he was used to. The small strip of beach he occupied was secluded and well hidden from the many villagers who sought the refreshing sea breezes of the day as well. Shrieks of laughter caught the wind now and then, nips and bits of conversation, and drifted by him to keep him company. Of course, he wasn't truly alone.
Up the path behind him on a short crest and tree-lined trail that would lead them back to the castle stood two guards in wait, each finding shelter from the heat of their armor in the shade while keeping their high king in eyesight and making sure the horses didn't run off. Jaryn had given them permission to stay behind, even came close to begging them not to accompany him, but Lilia had reminded him of the unknown danger still lurking about them. Still, a moment alone was all he wanted, time enough to he
ar his own thoughts and not have to feel like every eye was on him.
This was the best he could do and thankfully, at least for the time being, it was enough.
He'd been out there for some time. At first he simply sat and took his boots off, letting his toes play in the sand that was burning to the touch and cooler underneath as he dug deeper down. His mind vacillated between happy and dark memories; his heart was heavy and he longed for Ashlynn to return home so he could speak with her about it. Something told him, however, they wouldn't really have that time for awhile yet.
Thoughts turned to silent prayers of asking the Giver for guidance. Though Jaryn often felt more the part of Ashlynn's king consort, he trusted that he'd been placed where he was for a reason. It took a great deal to make him question the Great Dragon's plans and for some reason his faith was rattled today. There was uncertainty in his heart and he longed for a clear direction. Eventually he picked up the lute he'd brought with him and began to play, no real melody in mind. He just let his fingers move as they would and let his heart cry out to the one he knew was always listening.
The sound of swords being drawn pulled him from his reverie.
Jaryn stopped playing at once and turned his head just enough so that his ear bent toward the sound. His guards were undoubtedly getting overheated and could be jumping at nothing, but horses' hooves over rocks and packed earth drew closer. Standing now, he asked, “What is it?”
The two men looked at each other, hair and beards plastered to their skin with sweat. A common nod passed between them and they their sheathed their swords. “King Wessely approaches.”
“All right then. Let him pass. And for heaven's sake, go back to the castle. You'll do me no good if you die of heat stroke.” Jaryn nodded to where his own sword and scabbard lay. “I'll be fine, especially with King Wessely here. We're both seasoned fighters.” The two men shifted on their feet, causing Jaryn to raise his brow. “I order you to return to Altaine.”