Renn felt silly saying this, yet at the same time, he knew what being on the outside felt like. He was determined not to be the type who excluded a girl like Emmidawn.
“I want you to know if you ever want to talk, or have a question, or need, uh, a friend or whatever, I’m not much, I know. But I’m here if you need something. I mean that.”
Emmie’s amused smirk faded. She stared out across the river, warmly pleased but trying to hide it. If she wasn’t so emotionally wrung-out, she might’ve tackled him with a hug. That was so sweet, she thought. Incredibly awkward and over-earnest, but sweet. And welcome words to her lonely soul.
“Uh, here’s some, well, it’s candy. Kind of a welcome to town gift, I guess,” Renn managed to stammer. This had seemed like a good plan, but he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. Well, hmmm, he didn’t think he wanted her to, anyway. His brain was going fuzzy again. “Brie helped me pick them out.”
“What, no raspberries?” Emmie sifted her fingers through the bag of hard little candies. “Those are my favorite, you know. Those raspberry candies always make me feel better.”
She tried to look as disappointed as possible.
“I. . . I thought. . .” Renn went tongue-tied. Didn’t help that Emmie playfully flicked water up at him with her toes just then. His mouth went dry and he fought to look anywhere but at her bare legs. “Brie said. . .”
“I’m kidding, Rennwinn, geez.” Emmie laughed. “You’re too serious. Like you’re at a funer—” Her throat caught and her mouth hung open wordlessly. She looked down at her hands in her lap. Her mischievous grin melted, along with the fun she was just beginning to have.
“Sorry about your dad.” Renn rubbed his nose and broke the uncomfortable silence. “Sorry, too, I never got to know him. Sounds like he was great.”
“The best,” Emmie whispered, blinking back tears.
“I’m really sorry.” Renn shyly handed her two lilies he had picked once he was sure Brie couldn’t see him anymore. This was definitely Brie’s idea and, again, it seemed like a good one at the time. But actually handing a girl flowers? “For you. I mean, for your dad and all, you know?”
Emmie’s cheeks flushed as she took the two lilies. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath: they were perfect. She could have been lying in the meadow back in the Khuul, contentedly waiting for Dad to bring the boat in. Could be, except Dad was gone. And there was this boy sitting with her, who actually seemed to want to be talking to her. When Renn got shy, he got tongue-tied and froze. Emmie, however, panicked and tried to humor it away.
“Oh, Rennwinn. I. . . uh. . . I’m allergic to lilies,” Emmie said in a hushed voice. “They make me break out in hives. Big ugly hives.”
Renn’s eyes widened, appalled. “But Brie said. . .”
“I’m joking. Oh, you’re too much fun!” She burst out laughing at the dumbfounded look on Renn’s face. She shook his shoulder with both hands. As she did, they turned face-to-face with each other for the first time. Emmie reared back. “Whoa! What happened to your face?”
“Ha-ha.” He knew he wasn’t much to look at, but that wasn’t funny to him at all. “You are the comedian, aren’t you?”
“No.” Emmie circled her own face with her finger. “You’ve got a black eye and the whole left side of your face is kind of, well, puffy.”
Right, that. Not making a joke at his expense. That was a relief anyway.
“Oh really? I had no idea!” He had first sat so she couldn’t see that side of his face. Once they’d started talking, and he got increasingly flustered, it had slipped his mind.
“I figured you knew. That looks bad, though. What happened?”
“Stabbed my best friend in the back. Won’t do it again.”
“Because he punched you? A lot, apparently.”
“Because I couldn’t live with myself afterwards. He belts me every time I apologize—three times now. I let him because I pretty much deserve it. Took it on the jaw this morning. It makes a cool cracking noise now.” He stuck his face closer to hers. “Wanna hear?”
“You’re strange, Renn.” Emmie broke into a bashful smile, her face flushing. “I mean, I like what you’re doing. Trying to make it right and all. But, yeah, you’re strange.”
“What every guy likes to hear, Emmidawn. . .”
“Call me Emmie, easier on your bum jaw.” Emmie laughed, then bit her lip, embarrassed. “Anyway, that’s what people who know me call me. Friends, I suppose.” She pulled short from saying ‘if I had friends’ because that sounded pitiful and wasn’t entirely true. “Just plain old Emmie. So, um. . . I’d be good. . . if you called me. . . Emmie.”
They sat together quietly, neither sure just where to go from there.
“Okay. . . Emmie.” Renn was sweating profusely. He asked a question he found he was suddenly dying to know the answer to. “You staying in Drennich or you got family back in the Khuul or Dungarvale or something?”
“Um, maybe have some family somewhere. Who knows? But I’m staying here.” Emmie shrugged, wrapping crabgrass around her fingers. “Brie says I can live with her. So, I suppose. We’ll see. Not sure what I’m going to do, actually.” She’d wound the crabgrass so tight, her fingertips were turning purple. Emmie so wanted somebody to plot and scheme with. She shook her hand free and spoke before she could talk herself out of it. “I guess first thing I do is try to find out who I am, where I’m from.”
“You don’t know where you’re from?” Renn raised an eyebrow, which kind of hurt to do.
“Don’t tell, but I'm not from around here,” she whispered, flipping her blonde hair at him.
“No, really! I never would have guessed. You?”
“We have no idea where I actually came from.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all.”
“Mocking me already?” But a grin had spread wide on Emmie’s face before she made herself serious again. “Dad found me up by Lake Winnepaca, thirteen years ago. No family, no explanation, no nothing. He adopted me, brought me home to the Khuul. But before that–dunno. I could tromp up to the lake, but I can’t imagine what I’d find.”
“After, what, thirteen years? Probably not much.”
“Then there’s this, and it’s kind of weird.” Emmie whirled towards him, folding her legs underneath her. “Brie said a man came through here around that same time who sounds like the same man Dad saw. . .” Emmie swallowed. “. . . leave me at the lake. Long story, that. Anyway, this man may still be in Longardin. Could maybe fill in some of the gaps in my past.”
“You’re going to Longardin then?”
“I should, I suppose. I don’t know.” Emmie screwed up her face in frustration. “I promised Dad I wouldn’t go alone. So we’ll see.”
“He’s probably right. Longardin’s huge. The magisterial building makes our courthouse look like an outhouse, and the spires on the cathedral stretch into the clouds. Amazing, I’ve heard. People everywhere. Something to see.”
“A big city with lots of people; doesn’t do much for me.”
“Me neither. Still, the kind of place you should see once in your life. Least I think so.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a big adventurer, Renn.”
“Well, there has to be more to life than Drennich. I want to see if, you know, maybe there’s a better way. I guess maybe I have some of my Uncle Dreg in me.” Emmie detected a hint of hopeful wonder in Renn’s voice, before the undertone of melancholy slipped back in. “Besides, there’s not much for me here, I’m afraid.”
They both looked thoughtfully out over the river.
Renn had the spontaneous urge to offer to accompany her to Longardin. It was ridiculous, and far too bold a thing to say to a girl. Especially a girl he was having his first real conversation with: ‘Hey, want to run off to the big city? Just the two of us?’ But he didn’t mean it that way, at all. He wanted to help. Be the kind of friend who doesn’t let someone down. Emmie needed to go. She needed a friend to make it ha
ppen. Nobody else was making the effort.
‘It’s their loss,’ a little voice in Renn’s head whispered. She was fun, and easy to talk to, and obviously had stories to tell. ‘And she’s cute,’ Renn’s little voice almost added, ‘nice legs too.’ The little voice kept that to itself. Had that thought slipped into Renn’s consciousness, he probably couldn’t have strung together a complete sentence. Instead, he spoke before he could talk himself out of it.
“Hey, Emmie, this may sound crazy. . .”
At the same time, Emmie blurted, “Renn, what if I asked. . .”
Her mind had been working, too. She needed to go to Longardin, even though the idea of seeing this man terrified her. If she waited too long, she was liable to put it off, and put it off, until it was an afterthought. She also knew people wouldn’t be falling over themselves to accompany her. Besides, Emmie thought warmly, she hadn’t had a conversation this pleasant with someone her own age since, well, no clue. Maybe when she was 11 or 12, but that hardly counted. Renn felt safe, trustworthy, genuine. Even his over-earnest awkwardness was kind of endearing. He was Dreggar’s nephew. Urwen and Jes’s son. As inappropriate as the question seemed, asking just felt right.
They both turned beet red, eyes darting in opposite directions.
After several painful moments, Emmie spoke up. “What were you going to say?”
“You first.”
Emmie shook her head. He’d think she was weird or a bad sort. And just like that, no new friend. Renn couldn’t bring himself to so much as look at her.
When he finally did glance over, she was just then shyly peeking back at him. Their eyes caught—and her grey eyes held his. He was struck by the sense that he could see deep down inside them. Like they were speaking; wishing for him to offer. It made no sense, and it was just a gut feeling. Renn didn’t trust his intuition. Especially when it came to girls. On the other hand, where had playing it safe ever gotten him?
“Right. So, what I was going to say. . .” Renn began. “You still want to hear?”
“Yah, sure.”
“Promise me you won’t get mad and promise you won’t laugh.”
“Well, that’s some big extremes.” Emmie’s feet began swirling in the river. “But sure, promise.”
“This is going to sound crazy, but what would you think. . . I mean, how would you feel. . . Okay. Here goes.” Renn locked eyes with Emmie again. “If you want to go to Longardin, and you need a travelling companion, I’d be happy to go with you, um, if you want. And not at all offended if you say no. Just don’t think I’m some kind of creep, please.”
Emmie lit up with a huge grin.
“You’re laughing at me,” Renn protested. “And you promised.”
“Would you believe that’s what I was going to ask you?”
“No, I wouldn’t, funny-girl.” Sweat ran down Renn’s sides. “What’s the punchline?”
Emmie shrugged.
“Wait, you’re not kidding.”
Emmie bit her lip, couldn’t manage much more than another shrug.
“That’s a yes, then?” Renn hadn’t actually expected a yes.
“Yah,” Emmie stammered, not quite believing what she was saying. “I suppose so.”
“Well, okay.” Renn ran his hand through his hair. “That’s a yes. . .”
It was what Dad wanted, Emmie figured. Well, maybe not with a 17-year old boy she just met, but still. Renn reasoned it was also the kind of selfless gesture his parents tried to prod him to be bolder with. Well, Renn wondered, maybe not with a 15-year old girl.
Even though it made no sense to either of them, at the same time it did. The more they talked it over—as often happens—it began more and more to make perfect sense. Not to anybody else probably, but to them. So, as improbable as it still seemed as they went home to get permission, Emmie and Renn were set on a week’s trek to Longardin and one week back; a bigger adventure than either one of them could quite grasp.
XXI – The Bandu Capital of Aveon - Years Prior
Chancellor Murzyn ran his fingers across the edge of the sleek granite table, tracing the great snowy cougar chiseled along the top—one of the last remaining symbols of ancient Bandu glory. The seven Bandu chief stewards stared at him, waiting. At last, the knock at the door came. A courier in an ill-fitting uniform was ushered in and tentatively handed him a wax-sealed parchment, then quickly let herself out. Murzyn read and re-read the note, trying to predetermine his course of action before sharing the dismal contents of the note.
“Circumventing the law, Chancellor?” asked Babych, Steward of the Far West Colonies.
Would that I could, Murzyn mused. Though he hated to condemn any of his chiefs, it was clear there was a leak in the security council. Any shred of his trust must be hard-won.
“There has been an attempt on the queen,” Murzyn said succinctly. “She lives but is in critical condition.”
Enough disclosed, enough retained.
“What of the daughters?” the Central Helm Chieftain asked.
A cold, title-less way to refer to the two girls. Murzyn marked the man. “In lockdown under the monarchial guard.”
“But were they harmed?” Melkiana, the Keeper of the Southern Labyrinthine settlements, asked with her usual brusqueness as she pushed back from the table.
“Inconclusive.”
Melkiana’s intense almond eyes bore into him, their pale grey indicating she found the answer thoroughly unsatisfactory.
“Explain yourself,” General Keon demanded, his eyes a piercing silver.
Murzyn didn’t like that tone; hoped the army had not abandoned him.
“I can’t tell you more than I myself know!” Murzyn waved the note at them. “More intelligence will surely be forthcoming.”
“So, we are left hanging, helpless,” Babych spat out.
“I want to see that communique.” Melkiana stood, thrusting out her hand.
“It is labelled for my eyes only.” Murzyn locked eyes with the young, intense Keeper.
“You don’t trust us.” Babych’s tone grew more confrontive.
“Standard protocol.” Korilexx, of the Eastern Helm of Durvish, stood, saving Murzyn from the distasteful choice of either outright lying or inciting anarchy in the council chambers. “Further conjecture is pointless. I trust, Chancellor, you will reconvene council immediately upon receiving news?”
“When I receive news to share, of course.”
The council dispersed slowly, agitated and grumbling. Once the room cleared, the courier promptly reentered. She was one of his best—had acted her role perfectly.
“The second notice, please?” Murzyn opened the second sealed notice and digested the contents. “Summon Governors Melkiana and Korilexx. Discretely.”
The courier snapped a salute and departed.
Murzyn closed his eyes and gripped the stone table. He’d been the old king’s most loyal friend. Upon his assassination, Murzyn was entrusted with guarding the king’s son and his wife. He failed. The new king was assassinated only the year before, and now, his queen? Murzyn didn’t care a lick about protocol anymore. He would not fail his country again.
“What is this?” Melkiana burst through the door. Korilexx followed immediately behind, equally skeptical but much more circumspect. “This cloak and dagger bit disgusts me.”
“That’s why I love you, Melki.” Murzyn smiled wearily, choosing her familiar name. He slid them the two notes. “You know I dislike subverting the law. I like less, however, anything that jeopardizes the lives of my friend’s granddaughters.”
They read the communique in silence: the queen had been poisoned, was in a coma. Her brother-in-law, the regent next in line, lay mortally wounded. Healers were desperately trying to purge the elder princess of poison. Only the youngest girl and a visiting cousin had survived the attempt on the castle unscathed. Murzyn’s young advisors’ grey eyes flickered with disbelief.
“We appear to have a leak in our security council.” Murzyn
fed the notes to the brazier. “The contents of that message are for your eyes only.”
“A leak?” Korilexx fingered his chin. “Who?”
“If I knew, I would have ended it in council. With blood on the table.”
“I hate to cast suspicion. . .” Korilexx began.
“Later.” Melki cut him off, her chair screeching along the floor as she pushed back. “Our priority is these five lives.”
“Granted.” Korilexx nodded. “But where can we protect those lives if we must mistrust every chief and their every Helm? That leaves precious few options.”
“And time. We must guarantee their safety before word spreads.”
“If we don’t trust the military. . .” Melki stood and kicked her chair. “We can’t even know they’re safe in lockdown now!”
“We’ll need to scatter them. That’s harsh but the risk factor, all of them in one place, is too great,” Korilexx decreed. He was leaning back in his chair, hands templed at his mouth, eyes distant. Murzyn sighed and gestured for him to continue. “We cannot let them—whoever they may be—know how close they are to wiping our monarchy out. We must act as though the family is many, that more heirs are on the way.”
“The handful of royal cousins,” Melki murmured. “And the regent.”
“Yes, remove them to remote locations. Nobody can know the regent’s condition.”
“I know the place. Up in the. . .” Murzyn began.
“No.” Melki cut him short. “We don’t need to know. Put him safely out of touch. What of the queen and crown princess?”
“We do all we can, obviously.” Korilexx began to pace the stone floor. “The best care, at our best stronghold. The crown princess is seven—she shouldn’t be separated from her mother. The younger princess, though. . .” Korilexx rubbed his head. “Forgive me for being coldhearted, but I advise she be removed from her mother, from any location that could be perceived as royal. I fear our hope for a future lies with her. We make her disappear. Become an anonymous child in an anonymous town. Either in my Helm or Melki’s.”
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