Now, something flashed across the warrior’s face when he looked down at Dash. ‘Get out of here, stable boy,’ he said.
Dash didn’t need telling twice. He raced from the courtyard, grinning like a wolf.
For the next week, whenever he had the chance, Dash returned to watch the squires train. He found that if he left Bryson Bear at home, he could climb one of the trees on the outside of the wall and peer into the courtyard, hidden among the branches. He would watch in wonder as the older boys parried and struck. Commander Swinton watched them too, sometimes calling out instructions or a critique of what he called ‘footwork’. But the commander would also often gaze at the spot where he’d discovered Dash, an odd expression on his face.
One afternoon, on his way back to help Pa in the stables, Dash detoured through the gardens. He wasn’t supposed to, not really, but he liked the fresh smell of the flowers and all the bright colours of the petals.
‘Honestly, Thomas, just tell me —’ The voice of a young girl.
‘It’s blue, Your Highness. Just like every other day,’ said the resigned voice of an older man.
Dash turned a corner to find himself facing Princess Olena and two of her guards. She was sitting on a stone bench, her face tipped to the sky.
‘What are you doing here?’ one of the guards demanded.
Dash froze. ‘I …’
‘Shoo!’
The princess’ eyebrows shot up. ‘Thomas, who are you shooing?’
Dash frowned. Why was she asking that? He was standing right in front of her!
‘Just one of the stable boys, Your Highness.’
‘Well, that’s rather rude.’
‘Your Highness —’
Dash took a tentative step forward. This close to the princess, he saw that there was something different about her eyes. They were cloudy. And although they looked in his general direction, they didn’t quite settle on him.
‘Why can’t you see?’ Dash blurted.
He felt a swift cuff about his ear. ‘You little —’ the guard called Thomas started.
But the princess laughed. ‘It’s alright, Thomas. What’s your name? We can’t have you called stable boy.’ The princess patted the space on the bench beside her.
Dash sat next to her, ignoring the incredulous looks from the guards.
‘I’m Dash,’ he said, offering his hand as Pa had shown him. Realising the princess couldn’t see, he took her hand in his and shook it.
Thomas started forward, outraged. But Princess Olena laughed again.
‘I’m Olena. Pleased to meet you, Dash. And I don’t know why I can’t see. I was born blind.’
‘Oh.’ Dash couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be unable to see the world around him: the colours, the landscapes, the swordfights … He looked up at the sparse clouds. ‘The sky is big and open today,’ he heard himself say. ‘Like a giant yawn.’ He flushed. ‘Is that silly?’
Olena shook her head. ‘That’s perfect.’
Dash saw the guards exchange amused glances, but they said nothing.
‘I can see it in my mind …’ Olena’s eyes were closed and her face was tipped once more to the sky.
‘Then I should be your eyes!’
Olena smiled. ‘I’d like that.’
Dash beamed back at her.
That night in the new cottage, Dash told Mama and Pa about meeting Olena.
‘Princess Olena,’ Pa scolded. ‘You must address her formally, Dash. As a show of respect.’
Dash frowned. ‘Why? She told me to call her Olena.’
‘Gods help us,’ Mama muttered into her plate. ‘You shouldn’t bother the princess, Dash.’
‘I wasn’t. I was —’
‘We don’t play with the royal family, Dash,’ Pa said gently, rubbing his temples.
‘Why not?’
Mama laughed and rested a hand on Pa’s arm. ‘Perhaps that’s a battle for another time, Emmett?’
Pa nodded, looking relieved.
Over the next week, Dash spent his days watching the squires and helping Pa in the stables. He didn’t mind the work, not even mucking out the stalls if it meant he got to lead the horses around the corrals. He loved working with Silver, which was lucky because Pa didn’t like handling her for some reason.
It was while Dash was brushing Silver’s coat one day that a servant appeared at the stall’s gate. ‘Princess Olena requests your presence in the gardens,’ he called to Dash.
Dash beamed and wiped his palms on his trousers as he’d seen Pa do so many times. He started after the attendant.
‘You can’t go dressed like that!’ the older boy said, horrified.
‘How come?’
‘You … you just can’t.’
That didn’t seem like a good reason to Dash. Besides, despite her flouncy dresses, he didn’t think Olena would care about the type of shirt he was wearing. Ignoring the attendant’s protests, he made his way to the gardens. He was proud that he remembered the right path.
Upon hearing his footsteps from where she sat on the stone bench, Olena’s face lit up. ‘I can tell it’s you, Dash,’ she said. ‘You don’t sound like a giant ogre when you walk!’
The guards exchanged irritated looks. But Dash laughed, delighted. He sat down beside her.
‘I hope I didn’t interrupt your day too much with my request to join me,’ the princess said.
‘I was just grooming Silver.’
‘Silver?’
Dash nodded. ‘One of our horses from home. We brought her with us.’
‘Do you work a lot in the stables?’ Olena asked thoughtfully.
‘Yep. Every day. Pa lets me warm up the horses. When I’m bigger I’ll be able to help saddle them and clean their tack. He says I’m too small now.’
‘Well, he’s probably right. Saddles are heavy things, aren’t they?’
‘Not for strong men,’ he retorted. ‘Or strong ladies,’ he added quickly.
Olena smiled at that. ‘Do you take lessons?’
Dash started to fidget. ‘Just letters and numbers with Mama. Mama says everyone should be able to read.’
‘She’s right.’ Olena nodded. ‘You can learn a great many things from books.’
Dash frowned. ‘But how can you read?’
‘There are special books for people like me …’ She trailed off.
Dash waited, but the princess didn’t continue. So he looked around the gardens, spotting the towering green hedges of the castle maze. Mama and Pa had expressly forbidden him to go near it.
‘Have you ever gone inside the maze?’ Dash asked Olena, gazing at it longingly.
‘I’m not allowed,’ she said, frowning slightly.
‘Me either. It looks like an adventure, though …’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It moves in the breeze. It’s like it’s waving at us to come inside.’
Dash nearly jumped when Olena slid her hand into his. He looked down at their fingers entwined. Hers were soft and clean. His were rough and lined with dirt.
‘I like having you as my eyes,’ Olena said quietly, smiling.
The next morning, Dash heard Mama and Pa talking in hushed voices in the kitchen.
‘— strike you as strange?’ Pa was saying.
‘Of course it does, Emmett. But what are we to do? It’s an order. And an opportunity for him …’
‘But how, Dore? How has she got this past the king and queen? She’s only a little girl herself.’
Dash lingered in the hallway, peering out from the shadows. He saw Mama nod to herself. ‘That’s the thing about young girls … Everyone tends to underestimate them.’
‘But Dore —’
‘I have a good feeling about this, Emmett. It’ll be the finest education in the entire realm. I will not deny him that. Nor the chance at friendship.’
Dash entered the kitchen, still clutching Bryson Bear. He spotted the piece of parchment his father held. ‘What happened?’ he asked.
Mama smiled widely. ‘You, Master Dash, are to have lessons with Princess Olena.’
Mama made him wear his best shirt and trousers, and insisted he run her comb through his hair one hundred times. Dash practically bolted from the cottage when she at last gave her nod of approval. Gripping the princess’ letter in his small hands, he raced through the grounds and the courtyard, stopping short at the castle’s entrance stairs. He was allowed to go inside! He would see the great halls, the tapestries of battles on the stone walls, the guards and the nobles – maybe he’d even see the king!
He started up the stairs, chest bursting with excitement. It felt like his name day. His legs couldn’t move fast enough. He was going to see the princess – he was going to see her every day! And in the castle. Mama and Pa weren’t even allowed in the castle —
Dash barrelled straight into a towering figure.
‘You …’ a deep voice rumbled, and a pair of firm hands gripped him by the shoulders. The Commander of the King’s Army.
‘What are you doing here?’ the commander hissed, looking around worriedly.
Dash stared up at him, eyes catching on the jagged scar that cut through the commander’s dark shadow of a beard. Did he get that in a battle?
‘Za— Boy.’ The commander cleared his throat. ‘I asked, what are you doing here?’
Dash thrust the parchment forward.
Eyes narrowed, the commander took it, examining the princess’ royal seal and the instructions within. He ran his thumb over the scar on his chin and Dash could have sworn the warrior smiled for a moment before he passed the parchment back.
‘Go on then,’ the commander said. ‘Follow the corridor until you reach the end, then turn left. It’s the third door on the right. You can’t keep the princess waiting.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I’m not a sir,’ the commander said quietly, but Dash was already moving. He could feel the commander watching him as he bolted down the passageway.
Finally, Dash found the right door and knocked.
‘Come in, come in!’
He pushed the door open to find a thin, older woman standing by a chalkboard at the front of the room, Princess Olena sitting at a desk before her.
‘Sit here,’ Olena said, patting the empty chair beside her.
Dash grinned and went to her. Olena pointed to the front. ‘That’s Mrs Milner.’
The woman smiled. ‘I’m assuming this is your young friend?’
‘I hope so, or I’ve got things terribly wrong.’
Mrs Milner laughed and turned to Dash. ‘Do you have writing materials?’
Dash bit his lip and shook his head. Did that mean he couldn’t do the lessons?
‘No matter. Here …’ Mrs Milner put a piece of parchment, a quill and a pot of ink in front of him.
Olena elbowed him.
‘Thank you,’ he spluttered.
Mrs Milner nodded before turning to her chalkboard. ‘Now, today,’ she said, ‘we’re going to be learning history. More specifically, the Battle of Heathton —’
Dash’s ears pricked up. Battles? They were going to be learning about heroes and fights?
‘— and how Ellest came to gain its most famous knight.’
Dash’s heart soared. He wanted to know everything there was to know about knights. He was going to be one, one day.
Acknowledgements
An author is a different person by the time they finish writing a book. Let alone a series. It’s been months, even years, since they wrote that first sentence, dreamed up that first character … It’s even more of a surreal experience when an author comes back to a finished body of work, only to write narratives that pre-date the original plot …
What I’m trying to say is that writing books is a messy, befuddling business, and as always, I need to thank those who have helped me along the way.
First, to the mist dwellers – the original and the new. The bloggers, reviewers and street team members from all over the world who took a chance on The Oremere Chronicles. This book is for you.
Special mentions to Jen from A Bookish Peach, Jodie from the AU review, Stacy from Book Series Recaps, Sarah from The Book Tweeter, Sofia from The Literary Casanova and Shealea from Shut Up Shealea.
Next, to Claire Bradshaw. Editor and friend extraordinaire. Through hair-pulling timelines, title debacles and every scerrik of doubt I had, you were there cheering me on. And we did it. We made it through a whole series +1, in one piece. Thank you.
To my fellow Talem Press authors, Bronwyn Eley and Bonnie Wynne – your books have provided me with much inspiration and escape from the harder times working on the Oremere titles, so thank you for the amazing worlds you’ve created.
Thanks are also due to my partner, Gary, who listens to me ramble about these characters and their story arcs with no end in sight, and asks insightful questions that no doubt make me a better writer. But the most important thanks here are for encouraging me to leave my office and experience the world.
A big thank you to Eva, for her fantastic advice on making this cover just a little different from the rest. And to Alissa, who executed our vision so well.
To all my family and friends, thank you for your support throughout this whole series: the launch parties, waiting for rankings to come through and forcing my books onto random strangers.
And finally, as always, thank you to YOU, my dear readers. Thank you for loving this series, thank you for requesting more of these short stories, thank you for supporting this little indie author who’s trying to make her way in the world.
Until next time,
Helen
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About the author
Helen Scheuerer is a YA fantasy author from Sydney, Australia. Her debut novel, Heart of Mist, was the bestselling first instalment in her trilogy, The Oremere Chronicles.
After writing literary fiction for a number of years, Helen was inspired to return to her childhood love of fantasy by reading the work of Sabaa Tahir, V.E. Schwab and Sarah J. Maas.
Helen holds a Bachelor of Creative Arts, majoring in Creative Writing, and a Master of Publishing. She is also the Founding Editor of Writer’s Edit (www.writersedit.com), one of the world’s largest online learning platforms for emerging writers.
She is now a full-time author living amidst the mountains in New Zealand.
www.helenscheuerer.com
Have you read The Oremere Chronicles?
Likened to Sarah J. Maas’ Throne of Glass series and the epic girl-power film, Wonderwoman, The Oremere Chronicles is perfect for readers who love epic fantasy with unlikely heroines.
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