Chapter Two
Jostled awake, my eyes fluttered open, and Johai’s unreadable expression stared back at me. I swung my arms about, trying to land upon flesh, but he hooked them with his forearm and pinned them to my chest. I tried swinging my legs but could not gain momentum as he pressed me to his chest. He was deceptively strong, despite his lean stature.
“Calm yourself,” he said.
“I will if you tell me why you’re carrying me.”
“You went missing.”
Plain stone walls, dotted by rough-hewn wooden doors, surrounded us. Torches burned down to nothing lined the walls as well. I peered over his shoulder, and a pair of servants, one pulling on his livery, peeked at us through a crack in a door. A man, hair disheveled and still in his nightclothes, gawked at us from the doorway to his room. I could imagine the sight we made: me dressed in my nightgown, being carried like a child by a man with unnaturally white hair. Why am I here? My mind struggled to make the connection.
“I’m capable of walking on my own,” I said through gritted teeth.
The servants leaned in to whisper to one another, and I lifted my gaze to the ceiling. The servants are no better than their employers, I suspected.
“That’s yet to be seen,” he replied. His eyes remained forward, ignoring the increasingly curious crowd.
“Why do you lord over me?”
“Because you need constant supervision.”
Thinking to catch him off guard, I wriggled an arm free and swung back to strike him across the face. He dodged my attack easily, and I growled in frustration. Before I could mount another assault, he threw me over his shoulder. I stared at the servants who had flooded out into the hall as I kicked and punched his back. He did not so much as flinch. Let them see, I thought. Perhaps if I make a mockery of myself, I will not be of any use to them. Of course, for me to know if I was to be of any use, I would need to know what they needed me for.
We reentered the palace halls a short way from Damara’s apartments. They were empty. Johai dropped me to my feet, and before I could run away, he grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me into the apartment. Damara stood as we entered the receiving room and relief relaxed her face.
“Oh, thank the Goddess you’re safe. I feared the worst.”
“What could possibly happen to me?” I asked.
Damara patted my shoulder. “Nothing, I just worry.”
Liar, I thought. Did they truly think I was a fool, that I had not realized they were trying to use me. I stomped off towards my bedchamber, thinking to lock myself in and wishing never to leave again. Damara followed me into my bedroom, and I assumed they were rethinking locking my chamber door, but instead, she stood by the door as I flopped myself face first onto the bed.
I waited a few minutes for her to leave and lock the door, but she did not.
“Are you going to lock me into my room so I won’t flee?” I said, my face turned towards my headboard.
“Is that why you left in the middle of the night?” Her tone was not accusatory, but it still struck me that way. Her feet padded softly across the floor before the bed shifted as she sat at the edge of it. I folded my arms over my chest and did my best to ignore her. “You may not remember, but I do care for you as if you were my daughter.”
I did remember her, and that’s what made her betrayal hurt that much more. I declined to answer and instead stared at the whirling pattern of the carved wood of my headboard.
“I understand why you’re hesitant to trust me. But I do have your best interest at heart.”
I rolled over to give her a disbelieving glare, but her pained expression struck me, and I instead stared at her profile, the sweep of her nose and the branches creasing the corners of her eyes. She stared out the window as if lost in her memories.
I considered asking her why this had happened to me and who had done it, but I knew it wasn’t that simple. If she was willing, she would have told me, and that, in my eyes, made her just as guilty as the person who had taken them away.
I thought about the night before and the other diviner’s veiled warnings. Who had done this to me, and why did I maintain my education? Why are my visions and training clear but not the man who taught me? The words dangled from the tip of my tongue. But I swallowed them down as Johai entered my room.
“Damara, Lord Thelron is here.”
“I’ll be right there,” she replied to him and then to me, “I’m here if you need me.”
She rose and left me alone with my jumbled thoughts.
Damara called for the Court Magiker to examine me after my nighttime excursion. He shuffled into my chamber and set his bag down on a side table with a thunk. I sat at the edge of my bed, wringing my hands. If Damara had requested him, I feared he would be someone in her control. Would he administer some tonic to keep me docile and obedient? Would I further lose myself in their plotting?
The Magiker stepped in front of me and absorbed my vision. I upturned my head to him and prepared to speak when he grabbed me by the chin and forced my head back. He peered into my eyes, pulling back my lids. The abruptness of it caught me off guard, and words failed me.
“Open your mouth,” he said.
I did so, and he looked into it as if I were a horse at the local festival.
“Do you have any other symptoms aside from the memory loss?” he asked as he pressed his fingers to the inside of my wrist.
“Only—only the occasional headaches.” I fumbled. I had not expected him to be quite so brisk.
“I see…” he mumbled. “Take off the necklace. I need to examine your neck for injury.”
My hand grasped reflexively around the smooth metal. I refused to let anyone part me from the one thing that gave me comfort. The Magiker pursed his lips. He placed his crabbed hand over mine and pried my hand off the necklace. His eyes narrowed.
“It’s a calming charm,” Damara said as she entered the room with Johai at her shoulder. He was impassive, as always.
The Magiker turned to regard her. “I know what it is,” he growled. He rummaged around in his bag before extracting a bundle of herbs. “Steep this in warm water twice a day, and call for me if the pain increases, and no scrying until these headaches subside.”
I took the herbs and pressed them to my chest. “Thank you,” I said. That will please them, I thought. It will keep me ignorant. Not that my visions have proved useful as of late.
He huffed, and Damara motioned to show him out. He did not seem to notice her. He stood peering up at Johai from beneath his bushy brows. Johai gazed down at him. He easily had half a foot over the man and leveled him with a bland gaze.
“You had so much promise, and this is what you waste your talent on?” He swept his arm around the room.
Johai stared back without answering.
The Magiker threw up his arms. “I thought you had more sense than to meddle with these things.”
“You thought wrong,” Johai replied.
The Magiker scoffed and stomped over to his bag. He grabbed it forcefully from the table and left, mumbling under his breath. Damara followed him out, but Johai lingered for a moment, staring after the Magiker.
The interchange had piqued my curiosity, and I remarked to Johai, “You know one another?”
He turned and gave me the same blank stare.
“What does he mean by ‘meddling in these things’?” I asked Johai, half-hoping he would divulge some terrible secret.
“It does not concern you, Maea.” Johai turned on his heel and walked out as well, without even giving me the courtesy of a rebuttal.
I was considering chasing after him and demanding answers when Damara reappeared in the doorway.
“I think we spent too much time cooped up inside. How about a walk?”
The idea of escaping the confines of my room sounded divine, even if I had to do so under Damara’s supervision.
“That would be acceptable,” I replied.
“Change and we’ll head out,” sh
e said with a smile and left me to get ready.
I met Damara in the receiving room and was disappointed to find Johai would be joining us. I decided to ignore him. It seemed the easier course since he seemed unable to be civil. We left our chambers and headed out. Hilliard accompanied us as well, trailing behind us, both discreet and intimidating. His manner had changed in Keisan. Before he had been quick to smile and joke; now his eyes scanned the hallways and his hand rested on the pommel of his sword. Is this what the palace did to people, change them?
The palace halls seemed an endless maze. Each twist and turn brought more unwanted exchanges. Damara, it appeared, was rather popular. Everyone wanted to speak to her or share a bit of gossip. Many of them peered at me curiously, and a few were bold enough to ask my name. Damara introduced me as Maea. Many more stared at Johai, and judging by his taut shoulders, he noticed. No one addressed him except for one man. I spotted him from across the hall, chatting with two women of late middle years. He had black hair streaked liberally with gray and a rounded stomach.
He looked up as we passed and called out, “Duchess Florett, do my eyes deceive me?”
“Duke Wodell, I am surprised to see you back at court.”
“Well, it is not just for the pleasure of your company, I assure you.”
Damara laughed, but it was shrewd, as if she did it to appease. Hilliard stepped in a might closer, and Johai sunk back behind Damara. The duke seemed to take notice because he looked over Damara to Johai.
“Great Goddess, for a moment I thought I saw a ghost.”
I glanced at Johai. He scowled, and the lines around his mouth were white with strain. I wondered at the duke’s meaning, but no one seemed willing to elaborate.
“Your grace.” Johai gave him a rigid bow.
The duke shook himself and turned back to Damara. “I wish I could chat longer, but I have news for the king.”
“I understand. Safe travels, my friend,” Damara said with a tilt of her mouth that made me think she was up to something.
The duke bowed at the waist as one would to an equal and hurried away down the hall. In doing so, he nearly bowled over the two women he had been speaking with. One of the two clasped his hand as he passed and then turned to face us. I watched Johai from the corner of my eye, wondering at the exchange. The way the duke had scurried off, I thought he really had seen a ghost.
Johai’s scowl deepened as the two women approached us. I will admit, it amused me to see him off-color for once, but it dug at me not to know why the duke had reacted that way.
Musing on Johai, I missed Damara greeting the two women. I turned my attention back as one woman, an overlarge feather adorning her head, asked, “And who are your companions?”
Damara smiled in her charming way. “This is my charge, Maea.”
I couldn’t help but notice the way she avoided mentioning Johai or how he stepped back, leaving me in the forefront.
“What a beautiful girl, and what house are you from, dear?” the woman, whose pursed lips looked as if she had just finished eating a lemon, asked.
Damara prevented me from answering. “Maea is without formal house ties.”
Their regard transformed from curiosity to revulsion, as if I was a bit of mud on their satin slippers.
“I see…” the featherheaded one said. “Well, we must be going. We have other engagements.”
If I were wiser, I would have kept my mouth shut, but my brain was full to bursting, and I snapped at the slight. “Are you so shallow that only kings and lords are worth your attention? By your own admission, I am beautiful, but beauty is not worthy unless a hefty dowry makes it shine?”
The pair of them pressed their hands to their chests in unison. They looked like a pair of birds awaiting a worm, mouths agape.
“Why, I never!”
“Ladies, excuse my companion. She is careless with her tongue,” Damara said whilst squeezing my shoulders.
“Perhaps she should learn to guard her tongue better,” the pursed-lipped one replied, eyeing me disdainfully.
“I apologize on her behalf, ladies.” Damara bowed much deeper than their station required, I’m sure, because they seemed somewhat mollified. They nodded and waltzed away. But not before I caught a snatch of their conversation.
“She always kept strange company. Did you recognize the man with her? It’s his son.”
“I never thought I’d see him back here again.”
They disappeared around the corner, and when I turned around, Damara and Johai were speaking in hushed tones. He pinched the bridge of his nose as she leaned in towards him, her hand resting on his arm. I did not want them to know I watched them so I pretended to be admiring a painting hanging in a nearby niche. It depicted the royal family: King Dallin, swathed in the blue and silver of the royal house, wore a crown made of scrolling silver. The painter captured the furrow of his brow and the tight lines surrounding his mouth. He wasn’t someone I would want to cross. His wife, a handsome blonde woman, rested her hand on the shoulder of a curly-haired waif of a girl, Princess Sarelle. They made for a striking trio. My gaze lingered longest on the princess. There was something about her, something significant about her; a memory tugged at my brain, but I could not give it shape.
I had been so concerned trying to remember Princess Sarelle, I had neglected to eavesdrop on Johai and Damara. I caught the tail end of their conversation.
“… if he is back at court, that means the others will be returning soon,” Damara said with a hint of relief in her voice.
“I know; time is short. We will have to work quickly. Layton cannot know what we are about, remember.”
“I know.” Damara sighed.
Johai noticed my lingering gaze and jutted his chin in my direction. Damara smiled at me and waved as if signaling they would be but a moment more. They turned their backs to me and continued in hushed tones that I could not hear without moving closer.
After another short deliberation, they embraced, or rather, Damara embraced him while he stood rigid in her arms. Who is Johai? I wondered. Perhaps her illegitimate son? That would explain the scandal surrounding him. It would explain Johai’s purpose at court and his need to boss me around. She was surely old enough to be his mother. But on second thought, I didn’t think someone as unbending as him could be related to Damara. Perhaps her lover? That, too, seemed unlikely, just for the fact that Johai seemed unable to display human emotion.
She returned to me without Johai.
“Johai will not be joining us?” I asked and hoped I sounded genuine and not nosey.
“No, he will not.” She smiled, and I took that as a sign the topic was closed for further discussion.
We headed towards the gardens. I remained in pensive silence. Damara walked, her brow furrowed. She, too, seemed to be troubled. We turned the corner near a bubbling fountain when a guard wearing blue livery and a silver tree embossed upon the breast held his hand up, halting us.
“You cannot come this way.”
“Oh?” Damara said.
He clenched the sword at his belt. Several pairs of booted feet crunched on the gravel path.
I peered over my shoulder to see a pair of guards at Hilliard’s shoulders.
“Her Majesty is taking her afternoon stroll and does not wish to be disturbed.”
“Of course,” Damara raised her voice, “we’ll find entertainment elsewhere.”
“Darton,” a woman called, “who are you talking to?”
He scowled at Damara. “It is Dowager Duchess Florett, Your Majesty.”
A woman of late middle years, wearing a high-collared lilac gown, turned the corner. She walked with an upright carriage and a half smile on her lips. Even if I had not just been gazing at her portrait, I would have known her from the way she carried herself. Damara bowed, and I followed suit but looked up at the queen through my lashes.
“Duchess Florett, you’ve returned.” Her gaze flickered towards me as if to glance over me, but for a moment w
e held one another’s stare. I stared into her grey eyes until the weight of propriety dictated otherwise. “You may rise.”
“I hope the Goddess has kept you well,” Damara said.
“She has guided my steps in all things,” the queen returned. “I hope you’ve made a decision since last we spoke?”
“My answer has not changed.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Then turning to her guard, she said, “Darton, I’ve grown weary of the sun. Let us return inside.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said.
They brushed past us, and I caught the scent of her perfume. It smelled of violets.
“You are friends?” I waved my hand in the direction the queen had left with her guards.
Damara laughed. “I wouldn’t be so bold as to call her my friend.”
More evasion, it served to deepen my distrust. “Why am I here?”
Damara smiled and led me to a bench, where she instructed me to sit. “You don’t remember anything, do you?”
Her direct response surprised me. I had expected her to avoid the question all together. “Not much. I know who I am, that I am the last of the Diranel Diviners. I have this feeling that I was trained for some purpose, but I cannot say what—”
She laid her hand on top of mine. “You were trained to reclaim your family’s title and to resurrect House Diranel and return the honor that they lost a century ago. You have been raised to be the advisor to the king.”
“Why?” The question slipped from my tongue of its own volition. Though I held back a “what’s in it for you?”
She sighed. “Times are changing in Danhad. The old ways of things are dying out. Ever since the war ended, the Twelve Great Houses are weak. We need to return to the old days, to the days when house Diranel advised the king by looking into the future. Before everything is lost.”
Her words echoed those of the other diviner, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I could nearly feel the other diviner’s eldritch presence hanging about these bright gardens.
I wrapped my palms around my forearms in an attempt to assuage the goose pimples creeping up my flesh. I knew then what their plot was: they wished to use me as a diviner to control the kingdom. Worst of all, I was powerless to stop them. I had nothing to my name, and I was dependent entirely upon them.
I had secretly hoped I could trust Damara. I really did. I had fond memories of her, of the ones I had retained. She had been like a mother to me once upon a time. But anything I could recall felt as if it belonged to someone else, not me. Did she have the best intentions in mind for me? Perhaps, but it did not change the fact that I was a pawn, a tool for them to use.
Perhaps suspecting my thoughts in my silence, Damara suggested we head back. We were headed back to the palace when the blast of trumpets and the clatter of hooves interrupted the tranquility of the gardens. Damara’s face lit up like a girl half her age. Unceremoniously, she picked up her skirts and ran heedlessly down the path. Hilliard and I chased after her until we came to a halt at the garden’s edge overlooking a paved street leading up to the palace.
An entourage of men rode past us, multi-colored banners flapping in the spring winds. Represented were several of the Twelve Great Houses. Each house controlled one of twelve duchies around Danhad. It was said that the original twelve were the twelve sons of our first king and the households they established were their namesakes.
Raleban, the ruling house was the first among them, ruling the duchy surrounding the palace at Keisan.
Wodell was the furthest south along the wilds of Biski territory; Florett to the northern coast; Ilore, just south of Raleban, controlled trade and had a booming port town; Slatone in the northeast was just below the mountain ranges that separated us from Jerauch; Sixton and Magdale to the west; and the remaining five—Nanore, Quince, Leonett, Hiloth and Tantorell—controlled the other duchies around the kingdom.
Among the myriad of banners, one stood out amongst the rest, a yellow flower in bloom upon a blue sky—Damara’s house. The young man beneath the banner had auburn locks clubbed at the base of his neck and a proud, square jaw. I could see the resemblance in the shape of his eyes, in his carriage and coloring—he had to be Damara’s son. She had mentioned him in passing often, but I had never met him. He waved when he noticed us and smiled.
A sigh of relief escaped Damara’s lips. My eyes, however, were drawn to the leader of the party. Light glinted off his chainmail, and emblazoned upon his chest plate was a silver tree upon a navy shield—the royal emblem. A helmet rested under his arm. When he inclined his head to the courtiers spilling from the garden and lining the road, sunlight haloed his chestnut hair and set it aflame in an amber glow. He had dark eyes the color of sapphires set in a handsome face. He smiled at the women who waved to him, and winked in their direction. After they passed, I continued to stare.
“He has returned safely,” Damara breathed.
“Who are they?” I asked.
Damara gave me a knowing smile. “That is my son Layton, Prince Adair, and his riders, come from the campaign in the south.”
He must be the Layton to whom Johai had referred, I thought. My next thought sent a chill up my spine. “Are we at war again?”
“Not exactly, the Biski have been restless, and they laid siege to Duke Wodell’s holding, Blackthorn.”
That must have been the news he had come to deliver, I thought. Something about the attack troubled me, however.
“But the Biski are fractious and normally peaceable. I’ve read of individual attacks, du-toath calling up storms, but they don’t have the power to siege a holding, it seems unusual.”
“It is strange, but just because someone has never done something before does not mean they are not capable of it.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I paused, “and your son joined the force to stop them?”
“He did. I begged him not to, but Prince Adair asked him, and he could never say no to him.”
“He’s very loyal to the prince?”
“They’ve been shoulder-friends since childhood. There is no one my son trusts more.”
Hilliard stepped closer to us, his leather boots creaking. “Milady, perhaps we should go and greet your son?”
“An excellent idea.” Damara smiled at him and offered me a bended arm. I allowed her to lead me inside, all the while my mind racing. Several thoughts crowded for attention, but the one that pushed to the forefront was the prince’s eyes, they were the same as the one the other diviner showed me.
Diviner's Prophecy (A Historical Romance Fantasy Series) Page 3