by D. H. Dawson
Mother looks as though she is about to faint. She clutches at the hem of her night cloak.
‘Are you alright?’ I ask her.
‘I am very worried,’ she admits, voice thin. Mother usually stands tall and proud. It’s strange to see her sitting, hunched. It makes her look frail, easy to bend, as she curves into herself.
I nod and softly kiss her cheek. ‘Of course, Mother.’
‘Who will guard you tonight?’ Father asks me. ‘Gilah will have those guards in place soon to watch over your brother and sister.’
‘My instructor, then.’
‘A human, Carmen?’ Father says. ‘Is that all? Are you sure? What about Patrick, too?’
‘As fond of Patrick as I usually am, he is a guard, Head of them all. If all our guards, or even a portion of them, have allowed all this mischief and betrayal, I’m afraid I don’t know the trust I can place in him for allowing it. Cristian will guard me tonight. He has Gaia Wood if he needs to use it. Tomorrow, I will learn more of this Summoner and her plans.’
Chapter Ten
Carmen
‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ Cristian asks.
‘I’ve already told you, I am.’ I speak to Cristian over the threshold of my chamber doors.
‘My father will be here shortly to stand with me.’ Cristian’s belt is heavy with weapons of steel, but he holds a lit torch, too. He’s close. I’m sure he can count the sapphires in my headband. ‘I worry, Princess.’
‘About what?’
Cristian’s brows knit together. ‘About you.’ A flush of blood brightens his cheeks. ‘I mean, for your safety. You and your family. Everyone, that is.’ He lowers his voice. ‘If your guards really are corrupt, anything could happen, and there wouldn’t be more than a handful to stand against them.’
I think of my fire. The dark power that curls inside me. Could I bring it forth to cut down my foes? My own guards, if the safety of my family were at stake? What about Cristian? If a Summoner were to break down my doors tonight, would I risk revealing my power in front of him? He is my own, trusted instructor, but there is much I do not know about him. Would he, a human, see me as evil? I swallow my fears.
‘Nothing so terrible will happen tonight,’ I say with more confidence than I feel. ‘I’m sure you will serve me well in any case.’ A princess must be strong, and show no concern to her subjects. I give a small, grateful smile. ‘Thank you for agreeing to this. It goes beyond your training duties.’ I twist the length of my hair, hanging out and free, curled by my shoulders, and realise a small mistake. Someone of his standing shouldn’t see me with my hair undone this way.
Cristian’s gaze trails my dark curls. ‘It is an honour, Your Highness, and a privilege to guard you this evening.’ Cristian bends his head, then raises his gaze to mine. He’s protecting me. At any cost. He has no idea what danger he—we—might face tonight, or in the coming days.
As I stare at him, he could give me a lecture—as he did shortly after the Knight’s attack—about witches hiding in our ivory towers while humans are left to do the fighting. That doesn’t seem to be his thoughts right now. In fact, his gaze is so open and soft, I ache to know what he is thinking. Against all propriety, I open my mouth to ask—as someone approaches and clears his throat.
The man is a taller, older version of Cristian, though with a scruffy, unkempt beard and shabbier, more burnt clothes than his son’s. He bows to me. ‘Your Royal Highness. My son tells me we’re required to be of assistance this evening. Begging your pardon, but what do you want with an old blacksmith at your door tonight?’
Cristian’s eyes look as though they may pop out of his head. ‘Father.’
‘It’s alright.’ I turn to the blacksmith. ‘I have no intention of forcing you to be here. If you would prefer to take your leave, you have my blessing to do so. I asked you and your son here because he’s proven to be loyal to me. He said the same of you.’
The man bites his lip, making his beard, like a cat’s whiskers, twitch thoughtfully. ‘Well, you did show some courage breaking away from that family of yours and into the fray when we were attacked.’ The man claps Cristian on the back fondly. ‘Maybe with some training, you’ll be of some use next time.’
Cristian sways on his feet. ‘Oh. Princess, I’m so—’
I raise my hand, trying to control my features. ‘What was your name, again?’
‘Julian. Smith.’
‘Very well, Julian. It’s nice to see where your son gets his honesty from. Honesty I can trust, though I’d be more careful around others if I were you.’
Julian laughs, a hand on his belly. He’s not robust like Father, like many of the lords I know. He’s fitter due to his work, though the arduous nature of his work is apparent in the lines of his face. His hands have clearly been washed, though there’s still grit under his rough-edged nails. He’s a hard worker, honest, and loyal. ‘Get some rest, Princess. You seem a good enough sort for a royal. Best we keep you safe, then.’
‘Indeed. I thank you for your service.’ I shut the door and lock it, and hear Cristian’s incredulous, embarrassed expletives. I clap a hand to my mouth to stop from laughing.
Sleep came easier, knowing my door was guarded. I wake as Irene makes a fuss, trying to get past the blacksmith and his son, into my rooms. ‘I am her maidservant, you old drunk, let me pass,’ Irene snaps.
I stand from the bed, for the first time since before my birthday, I did not dream of fire or the dark figure. I stretch, relieved. What a difference a good night sleep can make. My shoulders no longer ach, my head feels clearer. I drape a cloak over me and fasten it before I open my door. ‘She’s allowed in.’
Julian looks tired. His eyes, dark and blue like his son’s, seem cloudy and unfocused. Cristian is on his feet, and as he sees me, his eyes brighten. His gaze travels over me, and I flush. I’m barely dressed. I lower my gaze and pull Irene inside. What was I thinking, opening the door like this?
Irene makes no comment, but sets down my dress for the day and a tray of food. ‘You look a bit better rested, Princess. What’s with the “guards”?’
‘There are some things going on, Irene. I’m afraid I can’t tell you.’
The maidservant shrugs. ‘Long as you’re safe, that’s all I mind about.’
I smile. ‘That’s very sweet.’
Irene shrugs again. ‘It’s my job.’ I know she doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about me, she’s just practical about her work. Irene sets down the food and helps me into a lovely green gown.
I smooth it down. ‘This is lovely.’ There’s something about the colour, the earthiness of it, that sings to me. It wouldn’t be mistaken for a Coven robe—this is of much finer quality, and the waist lining is decorated with fine emeralds. As I turn to look in the mirror, the way the light hits my dress, the gems, it almost appears as though I’m sparkling.
‘There’s rumours, Princess, all over the realm about so very many interesting things.’
I sit as Irene takes to my hair. ‘Such as?’
‘Such—such as you leaving the realm! Such as a once-frozen cottage suddenly melting, as though by fire, though impossible with a torch, and there were no scorch marks to indicate it, anyway. Princess, the realm is abuzz with speculation. There’s even talk of some thief.’
I pluck a handful of fruits from the tray and nibble them while she works, more to keep my hands busy, and to occupy my expression, than because I’m hungry. I keep my features neutral, face smooth. ‘You have nothing to worry about, Irene.’
The woman drags a brush carefully through my hair. ‘Oh, Princess. If only that were true.’
Irene sets a new green and gold headband over my forehead, tied back into my hair, as I select two shining golden rings for my fingers, and a glimmering gold bangle. My hair is half up, half down, set with intricate braids. I like that it doesn’t feel so heavy. Irene is no doubt sick of my complaining when she sticks it in a heavy bun. I�
��m convinced my neck wasn’t designed to carry such a burden.
I smile and stand, glancing in the mirror to make sure I look more appropriate. I reach for the handle, feeling a bit better now that I’m properly dressed and done up. I try not to think what Cristian must have thought, seeing me earlier. I pull the door open. There’s only one human in the hallway.
Cristian bows. ‘Princess. My father had to go back to work, I hope that’s alright.’
‘Of course.’ I meet his gaze. I want to excuse myself for my appearance earlier, but think better of mentioning it. If he’s a gentleman, he’ll wipe it from his mind and not think on it. ‘We have work to do.’ I lead the way out through the castle, toward the library.
‘Matthew.’ I watch him bustle around his desk. His familiar pounces along the countertop.
Matthew’s head snaps up at my voice and he bows. ‘Princess. What a pleasure. How may I help you?’
‘I cannot speak openly. Will you accompany me?’ Cristian hovers by my side.
Matthew stops what he’s doing and comes around from the counter. ‘Certainly.’
Two out of three. Now I need Ares. We find him outside, on the grounds, being adored by a bunch of Ladies’ daughters, Isabella in the first row, as though enjoying a jester’s entertainment. I stride up to Ares.
‘Are you quite enjoying yourself?’ I glance out to the crowd.
‘If I said yes, would you think less of me?’ Ares raises a golden brow, a smirk playing over his mouth. I swear I can hear Cristian mutter something behind me.
‘A little,’ I say.
‘Then, no. They’re rather distracting, Your Highness,’ Ares says. ‘What brings you out into the sunshine this beautiful morning?’ His voice is smooth and pleasant, until his gaze falls on Cristian and Matthew. Apparently he didn’t notice them before. ‘With them?’
‘I need your help, as well as theirs. Would you do me the kindness of abandoning your audience here? I’m afraid it is a matter of urgency.’
Ares glances around. Guards patrol the boundary line, but show him and our group little interest. The women a short distance away mutter in annoyance that their view has been disrupted.
Ares bows. ‘Of course, Your Highness.’
We all meet in the depths of the maze. No one will find us, let alone overhear us out here. The journey itself took nearly an hour, and we only made it because I can sense the way, through my clairvoyance—this way leads deeper into the maze, instead of that way.
‘What’s this all about, Princess?’ Matthew asks.
Cristian looks to me to explain, so I do. About my walking into the castle disguised, the lack of response from the guards, and what my family had to say about it.
‘A Summoner? I thought they were myths,’ Matthew says. ‘I’ve read about them, but… I didn’t believe them to be flesh and blood.’
‘My grandmother assures me they are, and I believe her,’ I say. ‘We need to measure the guards, see who’s loyal or not, and see if they can lead us to whomever they’re working for. These people can get to my family. All the royals are in danger.’
‘Including you.’ Cristian’s voice is soft, barely audible.
‘Is this all who we’re working with?’ Ares asks, ever practical.
‘For now, yes,’ I say.
‘Then it will take some time,’ Ares says. ‘There are hundreds of guards, Princess. To watch and follow them all could take months.’
‘We don’t have months,’ I say. ‘The Summoner will make a move before then.’
‘Then what do we do?’ Cristian asks.
‘We use magic.’ Matthew smiles. ‘If you get me something that belongs to each guard, maybe a dozen at a time, I can track them in a pool of water. It’ll be faster, and more inconspicuous, than physically watching and following them.’
Ares points at him. ‘That sounds good.’ He claps Matthew on the shoulder. ‘Look at you, little library worm, being so useful.’
I glare at Ares, often wishing he would be kinder to my other instructors. ‘Thank you, Matthew. I’m sure Ares can organise that for you.’
‘This time, Princess, I will show you what I’m doing,’ Matthew says. ‘I am to instruct you, after all. Perhaps you can have a tracking pool of your own.’
‘I like the sound of that. Where can we do this?’ I ask.
‘There’s a pond out the back of my house. My mother is newly married, so I live there alone. No one will disturb us.’ Matthew looks to me. ‘Can you lead us out of here?’
The maze is winding and tunnels the morning breeze. My headband rattles slightly as we move. I catch Ares staring at me. Does he intend to be abrasive? Is it simply a characteristic he’s inherited from his father, more used to soldiers rather than friendly company? If he feels bad, I can’t tell from his glance.
This time it’s me who breaks our look, so I can continue out of the maze. I’m finding it interesting to note how different these young men are; two are witches, one is human, and they’ve all been born and raised here in this realm, as have I. It’s hard for me to picture how each of their lives are, but I do wish I knew.
Out of the maze, we follow Matthew to his house, through the small structure—I had no idea how tiny his home would be, half the size of the frozen cottage I saw earlier. One room with two beds, a little place for cooking and scarcely a bathroom.
‘Nice place.’ Ares scrunches his nose. ‘I can see why your mother married.’
I poke him in the arm as Matthew’s face falls, embarrassed.
‘Don’t be a jerk,’ Cristian says.
‘Excuse me?’ Ares’s voice rises.
‘Enough, all of you.’ I follow Matthew through the house and out the back to the pond. In truth, it’s a thousand times more beautiful than the house. His property is enclosed by thick trees, each of which blooms a bright, cool green. The trees surround the pond, birds singing, and a frog leaps by the water, out onto the little bank.
Matthew collects a blanket from a chair and sets it on the ground for me, indicating that we should all kneel. ‘In that green, you look as though you’re one with the grass.’ As a Spirit witch, we’re both connected to nature in a way no one else could understand.
‘Did you just tell the princess she looks like grass?’ Cristian asks.
I smile. ‘In a good way.’
‘You wouldn’t understand.’ Matthew leans toward the pond. He holds his hand out and grazes the water. ‘Here, with a few spells, and the tokens of the guards, I can watch where they go. Not all of them at once, mind, but still.’ Matthew points to where the pond segments, and has created a small run off, about the size of a washing bowl. ‘You can track one here, Princess.’
‘How exactly can you track in water?’ Cristian asks.
‘With, say, a piece of cloth in the water, images of where they travel will appear,’ Matthew says.
‘That’s pretty advanced scrying.’ Ares’s voice is tinged with jealously. It would take him many years of studying, I believe, to achieve such a thing.
‘I’ve been taught by the best since I was little.’ Matthew closes his eyes. In that moment, he’s more Spirit witch than I’ve ever seen. The way he leans into the wind, the hair that picks up and brushes over his face, as though Gaia herself were stroking a hand through his hair. Something inside me feels like it’s being tugged toward him. I want to reach out and be part of the breeze, too, in his hair, with Gaia. To feel the power, the connection.
Matthew opens his eyes and smiles at me. ‘This is a sacred space.’
‘Is that what I’m feeling?’ I ask. ‘It’s strong.’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be doing a spell?’ Ares asks.
‘I need the tokens from the guards you want us to track and watch,’ Matthew says.
Ares frowns. ‘Right. You’re just going to stay here until I return with them?’
‘I think it would be a good time to teach the princess the principles of spell-tr
acking, yes.’ Matthew whistles and out pops his rabbit. He must have returned home while we were out. Matthew carefully plucks a single piece of fur and places it in my open palm.
Ares gets to his feet and leaves. Cristian lingers uncertainly.
‘Close your eyes, Princess, and focus on the fur, what you want to do.’ Matthew closes my fingers around it.
I do as he says, and, to my surprise, I can feel the fur. Not how it tickles my skin, but the being behind the fur. I can feel the rabbit. I open my eyes.
Cristian stands. ‘Perhaps I should—’
‘I have no trusted guards. Would you stay?’ I ask.
Cristian squares his shoulders and seems more comfortable. ‘Yes. Of course.’
I continue with my spell. ‘How do I do it?’ I ask Matthew.
‘There are words to say, but it’s about the strength of your intent. The words help guide and focus. Say, “Terra Locke”.’
I repeat the words. They mean Earth Lock. To track. ‘Oh!’ I start as the spell thrums to life in my closed fist, and I can see in my mind’s eyes the rabbit—where he runs through the grass around us, where he hops onto a rock, where he raises his nose to sniff at the air. I open my palm, breaking the connection. ‘Oh, my. That was… wonderful.’
Matthew sits up, proud. ‘Excellent. You’re a natural, Princess.’
I smile and my gaze slides over to Cristian, but I catch the look on his face. Despite how he usually treats me, with kindness and respect—including his brazen honesty—it’s hard for me to remember that he’s human, and all that must come with. It must be strange, uncomfortable, for him to watch me do magic. I hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps especially so as I am a royal, above him. I want to reach out, to reassure him, somehow, that I am not bad. Not one of the witches, no doubt, that his father suffered by. To show him my magic, what I can do. To tell him that I am not evil. But I don’t. I cannot say that for sure.