The
sailor waited uncomfortably in the small pub within the castle walls,
desperately wishing Captain Rastafel had sent someone else on this errand. He
didn’t really expect to be recognized or found out, but just being so close to
the castle guard made him nervous.
His
seat in the corner booth farthest away from the door afforded him a view of the
patrons coming in, yet he knew he could not easily be seen himself.
He
didn’t know whom he was meeting—which wasn’t unusual—but he also didn’t know
why, exactly. One of two reasons, he was sure.
This
pub was much nicer than most the sailor visited, the patrons of a much higher
social class. He was sure he stood out like a starfish in a mussel bed. Again,
he wished he could leave. The ale in his mug was nearly gone. He lifted and
drained it, wondering if he should order more.
Just
then, someone settled into the booth across from him. Someone he hadn’t seen
enter the pub, which meant they’d come in through the back.
The
candle in the booth went out in the same moment, leaving the sailor looking at
an indistinct shadow. He hadn’t seen anything more than a dark cape with a hood
and a flash of pale skin.
“Good
e’en, mate,” he said, leaving no doubt he was a sailor. Not that he thought this
one doubted they were at the right table. Something about this one smacked of
witchcraft. The sailor suppressed a shiver, and crossed his fingers under the
table.
The
figure across the table held out a sketch and the sailor took it. It was a boy,
young, about fifteen or sixteen, he guessed. A boy the sailor recognized. “I
seen him at port just today.”
The
figure did not acknowledge his comment or move in any way. “Make him
disappear.” The voice was disguised, but the sailor could tell it was a woman,
one who had a far better education than he. “Soon. Make certain he is never
seen in the Bonnie Isles again.”
Then,
the figure vanished and the candle came to life, revealing a bag on the table
in front of him. He folded the sketch away quickly and lifted the bag to find
it heavier than he expected. Whoever the boy was, this woman wanted him gone.
Captain Rastafel would make a killing on this job.
***
Aslynn
could not sleep.
The
combination of no exercise—at least, nothing physically demanding—and the
presence of a stranger in her bedchamber made it impossible to keep her eyes
closed.
Every
time Claudia shifted on her pallet or sighed in her sleep, Aslynn heard it. If
the maid had snored or thrashed around like Sebastian, it would have been
easier to accept. But Claudia wasn’t her friend, they weren’t in Sebastian’s
loft, and sleep would not come.
If
Claudia were not there, she could have gone to visit Sebastian, bypassing the
guard at her door by using the secret passageway behind the tapestry.
But
Aslynn did not dare reveal her knowledge of the passages. She would be throwing
away a perfectly good secret if she were caught outside her room.
Instead,
she rubbed at her sore shins and tried to believe that if she behaved, the
whole ordeal would be over sooner.
Patience,
she thought, is going to be a most difficult
lesson to learn. Dealing with the discomfort she could handle.
The
hoop skirt was proving to be the hardest trial. It appeared her posture was not
the problem; it was her stride. Her back did not bother her even after having
the board tied to it all afternoon. And she could keep from swinging her arms
if she held her hands clasped in front of her. It was an acceptable concession
to Tawnia, and it saved her upper arms from being pinched by the metal bands
strapped tightly around them.
But
the hoop skirt she could not seem to get around. Essentially a petticoat made
of metal bands, it was meant to only accommodate tiny steps, but she always
forgot. In taking a normal step, she would kick the hoop with her shin,
stumble, and have to flail wildly to keep from falling. It would be comical if
it didn’t hurt so much.
At
least Tawnia didn’t have a problem with the way she spoke; Aslynn had emulated
her father’s speech from an early age. However, subject matter would be another
matter altogether. Ladies, she was certain, did not comment on horse races and
the finer points of sticking a wild pig with a spear. To avoid a lecture on
that, she vowed to speak only of the weather. Or perhaps the music when she
began her dancing lessons.
For
some reason, the thought of dancing with Adam sent a thrill down her spine. It
had been happening every time she thought of him since their interrupted
conversation the night before.
Not
for the first time, she wondered what he had been about to say. She had wanted
him to tell her she was special, that he cared what happened to her.
Maybe,
she admitted, she had wanted him to tell her he was in love with her. She
wanted that to be true. Childishly, she wanted him to spirit her away to Castle
Greyloch to live happily ever after, but she knew running away from here would
mean leaving her father in Tawnia’s clutches. That was a fate she could not
bear to think about.
And
how would she keep her promise to Sebastian if she left? Unless he left with
her.... But any clues to his identity were here, somewhere, near Castle Fair
Haven.
She
thought again of the stranger, Meedo, and wondered if he was still alive, and
if so, could he really solve Sebastian’s mystery?
If
he could, the only thing left to do would be to stop Tawnia by somehow exposing
how she was controlling the king without giving away the truth to the whole
kingdom. If knowledge of the king being under a spell for at least the last
fourteen years became known, it would not only undermine the people’s faith in
their king, it would also be a tacit invitation for her father’s enemies to
attack.
The
more Aslynn thought about it, the more determined she became to expose
Tawnia...somehow. Maybe she could benefit from her lessons in more ways than
just becoming a lady. Maybe Tawnia would let slip something she could use
against her.
At
last, sleep overcame her as she plotted how she would expose the queen.
***
Katrona
snuggled deep under her covers and tried to pretend she’d been there for hours
instead of mere moments.
Just
as she stilled herself, the bedchamber door opened and a figure appeared,
silhouetted in the torchlight from the hallway. Her mother entered and shut the
door, leaving the room lit in flickering firelight once more.
Katrona
considered herself lucky to have gotten back in time. She had left the nursery
earlier to escape Edward’s game of make believe, which always involved the same
scenario. He was the king, dressed in a scrap of purple curtain, wearing a
crown of painted wood, and Katrona was either his personal witch—a role she
detested—or some other servile knave.
Tonight,
instead of waiting for his pronouncement of her role, she vanished into the
passageways, knowing he wouldn’t have the nerve to follow her alone—especially
after getting lost for nearly an hour earlier that day.
Katrona
had fled to the lower levels, where all but a few servants enjoyed an evening
away from the ever-present call of duty.
Edward
would have wanted to spy on the bedchambers, to see if he could witness any
intimate goings on, but Katrona was far more interested in talk.
She
spied on the kitchens, where they gathered to gossip. Aslynn’s lessons were on
many lips today. Then she moved on to the common room, where servants gathered
to do personal tasks like mending stockings or belts, sewing clothes for their
children, or carving pipes.
This
was the room where serious matters were discussed. This was where Katrona
learned many things no one would even suspect a ten-year-old to have interest
in, much less know.
Things
like politics: who was plotting what against whom, who had half a chance of
succeeding, and speculation on what the results of success would be.
This
room was also where she heard the rumors about her mother’s "witchcraft",
and her own—rumors that proved just how ignorant people could be.
They
thought her mother sacrificed lambs to keep her youth. Anyone who had seen the
queen performing her morning "ritual" could tell artfully applied
cosmetics kept her mother looking young.
They
thought her mother had the king under a spell kept fresh with the blood of
virgins. Katrona could not swear against the spell, but she was sure there were
no sacrificed virgins. Katrona had seen something once, in a secret chamber,
that made her think the spell was real, but there had been no sign of blood
sacrifice, only curious objects gathered in a pattern. The objects combined
with a prickling sense of some energy, spoke of arcane activity. A lack of dust
meant her mother—whom she had followed—went there often.
People
thought her mother spoke to Satan for advice. Well, yes, her mother had a habit
of talking to herself when she thought no one was around, but Katrona did not think
she was addressing Satan.
They
thought Katrona herself danced in the Sabbat to honor Satan, who some thought
was her father. Katrona knew she had never danced naked in the forest
clearing under the light of a full moon.
Her
mother had never mentioned the devil in all her lessons. When Katrona came to
her, frightened by the realization she could tell when people were lying,
Tawnia had given her a cursory explanation of Ley, the ethereal power that stretched
in bands around the world and could be tapped by those who could sense and
manipulate it.
A simple trick of summoning flame to a
candlewick was the extent of physical magic she had been taught, only shown to
her when Katrona had expressed doubt about the practicality of her so-called
gift. Further lessons mainly promised revelations of some greater secret she
would be taught "when she was old enough".
No
devil worship, no subservience to a power other than that of her own mind
tapping into the Ley and drawing forth the results she desired.
But
after recent events, Katrona was tempted to wonder about her mother's
activities.
Tonight,
as Katrona made her way back through the secret passageways to the family wing,
she had been startled to hear footsteps and see a light approaching.
Knowing
if she panicked she could forget where she was and end up lost, Katrona turned
and counted back until she found a small nook in which she could hide. Tucking
herself into the tight spot, she stilled herself and carefully thought of
nothing—a trick she had learned would help her keep still, preventing the
passerby from noticing her.
It
wasn’t until the figure passed and the light receded that Katrona processed
what she had seen: her mother, dressed for outdoors, giving off an aura of
recently activated Ley.
That
her mother had been outside was enough of a wonder. That she was casting
spells....
Now,
in the fire lit chamber, Katrona feigned sleep as her mother crossed the room
to stand at her bedside. She could feel her looking down, and wondered if she
knew of her recent wandering.
But
the queen only tucked the covers up under her chin and bent to place a doting
kiss on her forehead. “Katrona,” she whispered. “My daughter, my heiress.”
And
then she moved on to the little partitioned alcove where Edward slept, leaving
Katrona to wonder what that meant.
Edward
was to inherit the kingdom, so what was left for the king’s youngest daughter?
Her mother’s gift for spell casting? A gift of sensitivity to the presence of
Ley? To a ten-year-old, this felt like a curse more often than not. The gift
was something her mother prized greatly, Katrona knew, though she wasn’t
certain why.
Unless
the gossip about her spell over the king was true, which would mean without
magic, the king wouldn’t have taken her as his wife, and Tawnia would not be
queen. Nor would she be the queen mother, who had produced the heir.
Except,
Edward was not the true heir.
It
was enough to make a girl’s head spin, but a thought struck her as she heard
her mother whisper over Edward’s bed.
If
she had used magic, what wouldn’t she do to stay queen?
Katrona
shook her head, not believing her mother could actually do any harm. It was one
thing to cast love spells, quite another to cause a hurt, or...make someone
disappear.
The
queen must have heard her movement, for she reappeared at Katrona’s side. “Is
something wrong, my dove?” she asked, reaching out to stroke Katrona’s hair.
“Can you not sleep?”
“I
sense Ley magic, Momma,” she said, making her voice sound sleepy and confused.
“Why?”
“Strange
happenings are afoot, my darling,” the queen said. “I have cast spells to help
protect you and Edward.”
Katrona
sensed Truth in her mother’s words, though she also sensed a holding back—doubtless
a desire to protect from whatever strange happenings she perceived. It only
served to remind her the queen had a mother’s instinct to protect her own. And surely
that instinct could not be a bad thing.
“I
love you, Momma,” Katrona said.
“I
love you too, darling. Off to sleep, now. Daylight will be here sooner than you
think.”
***
The
day dawned gray with fog, slicking the deck of the little boat with moisture
and painting everything behind a curtain of white too thick to see more than a
boat-length away.
Meedo
stretched after climbing out of the cabin. Today was the day to send for
Sebastian. He had the distinct feeling something crucial would happen before
the sun went down.
He
folded the summons he’d written, hopped down from Remini’s foredeck, and went
in search of a messenger.
At
the foot of the dock, a gaggle of boys waited for the chance to earn a copper
or two.
Meedo
called out to one and pressed two small coins in the boy’s hand, along with the
note.
“Take
this up to the castle and deliver it to Sebastian, the swordmaster’s boy. Can
you do that for me?”
The
boy fingered the coins and grinned. “Oh, aye!”
“Off
with you, then.” Meedo turned to go back to his Remini. He did not see the
figure of a man turn away hastily, melting back into the mist.
***
Aslynn
and Adam approached each other: she curtsied, he bowed, and when the music
began, he held out his hands for hers.
She
took his left hand lightly and settled her left onto his shoulder, thrilling at
the feel of his right hand on her hip. They stepped together into the opening
movements of the dance.
The
string quartet played a song Aslynn had been taught to recognize as a minuet,
and Adam guided her expertly through the motions. She liked the feeling of his
confidence flowing through his hands to her, making her forget the queen’s
critical gaze on them both.
“You
dance well, Lord Wingfield,” she told him. “The queen said she heard you were
in need of polish.”
Adam
only smiled. “I’d say anything to give you respite from your torture.”
She
smiled in return. “My hero.”
They
had been at dancing lessons for over an hour since lunch, and it was indeed a
respite from the morning’s posture and walking torture. Adam had managed to
pass along Sebastian’s message about Meedo, but they mostly held only idle chitchat,
as the queen seemed very interested in everything they had to say to each
other.
Aslynn
was beginning to think that this part of being a lady, at least, would
not be so bad. As long as she always had a partner like Adam: handsome,
charming....
...Danger!
Aslynn
gasped and stopped in her tracks, causing Adam to pull awkwardly to a stop to
avoid treading on her toes.
“What’s
wrong?” he asked.
“Sebastian,”
she whispered, feeling blind panic rising in her. “He’s in danger!”
“What?
How?”
“I
don’t know. I just know!”
“What’s
wrong?” Queen Tawnia demanded, gliding toward them. “Why have you stopped?”
Adam’s
grip shifted to her shoulders as they stared at each other, his gaze not
questioning, only waiting.
“Aslynn!”
Tawnia said sharply. “What under heaven is wrong with you? You weren’t doing
that poorly. Continue.”
But
Aslynn did not move, and the quartet faltered to a stop.
“I
have to go to him,” she whispered, desperately wishing the queen would just
dismiss them.
“Him
who?” Tawnia tapped her foot impatiently. “What ails you, milkmaid?”
Aslynn
couldn’t look away from Adam, couldn’t decide what to do. Sebastian needed her—this
she knew. The longer she stood there, the higher her level of panic rose.
Adam’s
eyebrow twitched and he rolled his eyes toward the door, a not-so-subtle motion
suggesting they make a run for the door.
She
nodded and reached down, scandalously grabbing the hem of her skirts and
petticoats, lifting the metal hoops above her knees. Adam grabbed her free hand
and they turned, making a run for the door.
“Aslynn!”
Tawnia shrieked. “Get back here!”
In
the hall, they only hesitated long enough for Aslynn to shimmy out of the hoop
skirt before racing toward the stables to find Sebastian.
