by Patty Jansen
Chapter 11
A SET OF DOORS at the end of the hallway led to the garden side of the palace. Bathed in moonlight, the paving looked grey save where potted plants cast ink-black shadows.
Kylian tested the doors. They opened, letting a chill breeze into the somewhat stuffy gallery. The curtains billowed inward.
She clamped her arms around herself. “Brrr.”
He slipped his jerkin off his shoulders and draped it over hers. It was leather: heavy and rough and imbued with smells of forest, wood fires and something unmistakably male that made her shiver.
They walked onto the forecourt, where the moonlight cast deep shadows of the walls and clipped bushes. Water burbled in a crystal-clear pond. Three young willow trees lined the water, the type from the south that trailed their branches in the water.
“It’s pretty,” he said, pushing away the curtain of willow branches.
“Yes. I guess it’s very different where you come from.” She was babbling and she knew it.
“Very different,” he said. “We don’t have large cities, only small towns by the river, surrounded by wooded hills. This land around here is so flat. Do you know what hills look like?”
“I’ve seen them when going up the river with Father.” Although she hadn’t gone east into the Rede River, but continued to follow the Saar River to Lurezia. She’d seen forest, too, dense stands of trees much larger than any tree that grew in Saarland. The ground underneath was covered in leaves and moss and her footsteps had made not a sound. It was kind of scary not being able to see far or being in such a dim and dark place where evil could jump on her from behind every tree trunk.
He continued, “The forest is magic. It speaks to me of the things it has seen. It breathes life. Do you ever feel like that?”
She nodded, still hearing the whisperings in the forest when the wind raked its fingers through the boughs. There was a smell of mushrooms and rich soil and magic.
“Did you find the forest scary?” His eyes were dark in the low light, and his red hair looked black. When had he come close enough for the male scent of his body to become so overwhelming?
“I did.” A bit later, she added, in a whisper, “Are there wolves where you live? Bears? Demons?”
“All of those, and more. Ghosts, wraiths, spirits. Magical creatures. Some good, some evil. People don’t belong in the forest. We’re mere guests and live by the rules of the forest.” He sounded almost reverent. His magic was sure to involve forest and trees.
“Sounds scary.”
“It’s not, when you know how to listen, which I’m sure you can.”
There was no point in denying her magic. “I speak to willows. The wood tells me stories.”
His face split into a smile that made his eyes twinkle. “I know. Why else would I single out you, of all girls?”
Had he done that? With just a single exchanged look across a crowded hall?
“It must be quite hard, feeling magic and listening to the Shepherd denouncing all magic as evil.”
“It is hard. But I want to convince the Church that magic can be used for good as well as evil.”
“Bah, good luck with that. You might as well talk to a rock. They will not listen.”
Normally, Johanna would have argued, but after having talked to the Shepherd about Loesie, she resigned herself to the fact that he was right.
The Church wouldn’t listen. The Church had its own agenda, and that involved banishing everything they didn’t understand or couldn’t control. It involved getting money from the royal family that they should be spending elsewhere, or worse, didn’t have.
Worse than that even, King Nicholaos was blind to what was happening.
They walked in silence, side by side. He was close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, a comforting cocoon in the chill of the night.
Via the beautifully paved and maintained path, they came to the far end of the gardens. The king had ordered a grassy mound to be built here, from where you could see over the city. Stone steps led to the top, where there was a circular paved area surrounded by a knee-high wall. The stars were out and light from the moon cast a silvery sheen over the roofs of Saardam.
“Do you know why the Moon has a ring around it?” he asked.
“Because there is mist up there where the Moon is.”
He laughed. “Not quite. The Moon is so far from us that you could put the Saar and Rede rivers end to end and straight up in the sky and it wouldn’t reach the Moon.”
“How do you know that?”
“I study the skies.”
“Do you have a looking glass? I’ve got one, too.”
“We have the best looking glasses available in all of the western lands. My father has also hired a man called Rinius who studies the skies.”
“The one who wrote the book?”
“You are familiar with it?”
“I have a copy.” Father had bought it for her on his travels, knowing her interest in such things. It showed the diagrams of the stars and where planets would be at certain times of the year.
“You better hide that from your priests. Rinius is a wanted man for spreading heresy throughout all the southern lands where the Church has a hold on ruling families.”
“The Church of the Triune is not the same as those southern churches.”
“Tell me honestly that your priests won’t declare the natural sciences heresy and I’ll believe you.”
Johanna said nothing. She couldn’t say anything of the sort. What was more, she believed him. The sciences said many things that were against belief. To some, magic was just another science.
They continued down the mound and came to the end of the laneway, where the longitudinal flower beds gave way to features set in a circular pattern, depicting a rose.
In the middle was a pond in which stood a pedestal and on it the gilded statue of the Triune, silhouetted against the night sky.
“Urgh,” Kylian said, looking up at it. “What a hideous thing.”
“Are you always this rude when visiting strangers?” Not just rude, blasphemous. She had never heard anyone talk like this, not even Father’s merchant friends, none of whom had any love for the Church.
“It is a hideous thing. Look at the slobbering mouth of the dog, and look at the hollow face. The bearded man looks like a sanctimonious piece of shit. He doesn’t care about the world at all. He just cares about being seen to do good.”
“The statue embodies the fragmented nature of the human spirit. There are three parts. Some of human nature is good, some is indifferent and shackled in tradition, and some is just plain bad.”
He chuckled. “Like magic, huh?”
Unease creeping up in her, Johanna looked out over the harbour, where the boats bobbed on their moorings.
A breeze stroked her skin and brought the sound of barking dogs. Seriously, they weren’t still carrying on about Master Hendricksen’s monkey, were they?
“Your Church says there is no magic and any who say otherwise are evil. Your king does not believe in it.”
Not just the Church—the majority of people in Saardam who didn’t have magic didn’t believe in the few who did. In the past, they had called people with magic witches and drowned them to test it. If a woman floated, she was a witch and would be killed. If she sank, she was not a witch, but she was dead anyway. But that had been in the time of Johanna’s grandmother, and no one in the family had magic then. And there had been no Church.
Kylian continued, “Why let yourself be ruled by this Church? They are nothing but tyrants in disguise. Even the name says it all: shepherds. They expect their followers to be sheep, incapable of thinking for themselves. The Church is run by old men who are scared of magic, or maybe jealous of the ones who have it.”
“They are still our people, our citizens. I do not want to be an enemy of the Church. The Church does a lot of good.”
He snorted. “Some good.”
“It does! It h
elps poor people. It gives them food and clothes.”
“In exchange for their vows and adoption of their ludicrous beliefs.”
Johanna glared at him. “Are you determined to offend everyone? Or are you so absorbed in your own wealth that you have no idea what it’s like to be poor?”
“And you, of course, would have an excellent idea what it’s like to be poor.” His voice sounded sarcastic.
“I’ve never been poor, but I talk to people who are. If it wasn’t for the Church many of them would die in winter.”
“That has nothing to do with the way they treat people with magic. Poverty is a solvable, petty issue. Magic is mysterious, dangerous and it won’t let itself be denied. If you ignore it, it grows stronger. You cannot banish magic, you must use it.” He trailed a finger through the air, describing a path that traced the profile of her face, but his finger never touched her.
Johanna shivered. He put in words what she had thought many times.
“In Gelre, we use magic in government, and at court. We could use you. All of you with magic. If those men of the Church become too much of a problem, you will be welcome with us.”
“Is this why you’re here? To ‘rescue’ people like me from the Church?”
He chuckled. “We’re here because we do not want our allies to fall to an institution that goes back to burning and drowning witches.”
Which didn’t answer her question. She wanted to ask him if he thought that persecution of shepherds, as happened in many eastern countries, was any better than persecution of witches, but it didn’t seem so important now. Persecuted in many lands, the Church of the Triune had found fertile ground in Saardam because Shepherd Romulus offered the king solace after the tragedy of Princess Celine’s death. A melting pot of people and cultures of the Western Lands, Saardam lacked a clear moral direction. The Church of the Triune fitted in that gap. That was all there was to it.
She walked around the pond so that she faced the head of the Holy God. What had he said again? A sanctimonious piece of shit? How dare he talk like that about people’s deep beliefs?
The subtle sounds of the night drifted on the air: the soft slap of water against the quay wall on the other side of the wall around the garden, the faint sound of music, talk and laughter that came from the palace at their back. The neighing of a horse in the palace forecourt where all the noblemen’s horses waited until the party had finished and they could take their masters back home again.
Kylian said softly, “You know you’re not like any woman I’ve ever met?”
Johanna turned her head sharply to him. “Then you haven’t met any real women, only dishrags.”
He laughed, and it served to make her even more annoyed. “I travel all over the western lands and have not met a woman who is both pretty and in possession of magic skills. You’re so wild and untamed, I can feel the magic flow. I could teach you to use your magic properly. Then nothing you ever wanted would be out of your reach.”
“No, I don’t want that. That’s manipulating people. That’s how magic gets a bad name.”
“You’re such a fierce one”
“When people annoy me enough.”
“I annoy you?”
“Yes. When you say things like that, and when you’re rude about our beliefs. What do you even know about—”
She started to walk away. This man was an insufferable arrogant prick. But she didn’t get far.
“Wait.” He grabbed her wrist.
“What? You want to apologise?” She tried to yank her arm out of his grip but he was very strong. “Go ahead. I’m waiting.”
He paused, facing her. Dark, brooding, his gaze intense. An envelope of air around him breathed his male scent. For a while, the only sound was that of his breathing. A breeze picked up and blew a strand of his hair forward over his shoulder. The tips of it tickled on the bare skin of her upper chest.
She pulled at her arm again. “If you’re so honourable, you would let me go. My father will come looking for me any time now.”
His face showed mock surprise. “Oh? I thought you would be too mature for these sorts of tricks. But you can always become like one of those dumb ladies inside.” He put on a high voice. “Let me go or I’m going to scream.”
“I can scream if you want me to.”
“Be my guest. Scream.”
He took a step back, while still holding on to her arm.
There was no way she was going to give him that satisfaction. She tried to twist out of his grip. Her voice came out as a grunt. “Let me go.”
She twisted her arm further, sure she’d have bruises tomorrow. But the only effect of her struggle was that she came closer to him and his grip tightened. He laughed.
“You’re doing that all wrong. You have to hold my wrist, like so.”
His other hand took hold of her free hand and placed it on the arm that held hers.
“Grab it tight so that I can’t move.”
She did, although she had no illusion that he could still move as much as he wanted.
“Now twist sharply.”
She did as he said and her arm came free.
“See, that was easy.”
“You let me go.”
“If you do this quickly, it will take most people by surprise. Remember it for when an unwanted suitor tries to grab you. Want to try again?”
Johanna hesitated. This was one strange man. Dangerous, challenging, mysterious, crackling with magic.
She faced him, her chest heaving with deep breaths from the struggle. He returned her stare, unwavering and not in the least flustered.
Johanna’s cheeks felt like they were on fire.
He said, his voice low, “Has a man ever kissed those ruby lips of yours?”
“What business is that of yours?”
“It’s more interesting for me if it’s the first time for you.”
“Who said you could kiss me?”
He laughed, trailing his finger over her cheek. His touch made her shiver. “Twenty-three and never been kissed?”
“Twenty-four.” She looked defiantly into his eyes. He was talking to her as if she were a little girl, thinking she was afraid of men, huh?
“See, I’m not holding you against your will.” He spread his hands. “You can run to your father if you want. Run, little girl, run!”
Johanna didn’t move.
Kylian leaned closer, enveloping her in his warmth. His lips brushed hers fleetingly. He smelled of leather, smoke and fire.
“Like that?” He was teasing her.
“That’s fine by me,” she whispered. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Well, there’s plenty of time to establish the truth of that.”
He took her in a rough grip and pressed his mouths on hers. His lips forced hers apart and his tongue came into her mouth. She hadn’t expected that, and let out involuntary moan. She struggled to breathe. His hands slid up her sides, over the tight bodice of the dress.
He let go and stared at her in the moonlight. He chuckled. “Still not afraid?”
Johanna gasped for breath but shook her head, her heart still thudding. Was that what kissing was like? It was disgusting.
But it was naughty. It was like what men said about smoking. You hated it the first time, thought it was all right the second and after that you couldn’t stop doing it.
He was still holding her waist, looking down into her face, his lips slightly parted.
That second kiss was coming up right now. He covered her mouth with his and now she knew what was coming, didn’t flinch or try to pull back. She relaxed in his arms.
Yes, that was much better.
He chuckled. “My, you’re learning fast.” His lips brushed the tip of her nose. “You’re so pretty, wasting your life in this silly provincial town. Since you’re not going to marry the prince, would you like to come back with me? I could teach you magic. You could talk to Rinius, be his assistant, even. We could . . . continue this activity undistu
rbed.” He ran his tongue along the line of her jaw.
Johanna shivered.
Get out of here, start anew, what an opportunity. She’d disappointed her father by refusing to marry Roald. She didn’t want Octavio Nieland. She didn’t want to marry at all, but if she had to, why not someone from outside the stifling Saardam society?
He kissed her again, this time longer. She tried replying to him, tickling his tongue with hers. He chuckled without breaking the kiss. His hands raked through her hair.
Then, suddenly, there was a sound she recognised: the ringing of church bells, the clanging distorted by the breeze.
At this time of day?
Johanna stiffened. Kylian let her go.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
He said nothing, but turned his face into the wind. His eyes were alert, his face tense.
“Can you feel anything?” She still didn’t know what type of magic he had. Something to do with the forest. Maybe he had wind magic, too. Was it possible for one person to have more than one kind of magic?
She repeated, “What’s going on?” Her heart was thudding.
He looked sideways, and then without a word, bolted down the path.
She called after him, “Hey!”
But he didn’t listen or stop. He jumped into the hedge that shielded the garden’s outer wall from view, pulled himself up over the wall and down the other side, leaving Johanna standing stunned and alone in the garden.
She clamped her hands around herself. When had the air become so cold?
Distant sounds drifted from the city: the barking and howling of dogs. The neighing of horses. People shouting.
A cat raced through the garden, yowling, with all its hair standing on end. Goodness, what possessed that animal?
Feeling shaken, Johanna climbed onto the mound where they had looked at the stars so that she could see over the wall. There was an orange glow in the city, a street or so back from the harbour. Vicious flames rose from the roof of one of the canal houses. That was nowhere near her house, was it? She traced the outlay of the streets in her mind. She didn’t think it was in her street.
There was a soft sound of footsteps behind her. Johanna turned around.
Someone had come into the garden from the gallery and now walked up the steps to where she stood. A woman, thin and shrouded in black. Her tread was light, as if she floated.
Johanna curtsied before the queen. “My excuses for being in your garden, Your Highness. I was hot and—”
“What is going on in town?” Queen Cygna’s voice was sharp, almost nervous, and with the distinct accent of the northern lands. She gasped and raised a dainty hand to her mouth. “Fire.”
Johanna turned around. The fire had spread. Flames licked the roof of one of the harbour-side warehouses. “Is that Master Deim’s warehouse?”
The Queen couldn’t answer that. She probably didn’t know who Master Deim was.
“Listen to the poor horses,” the queen said.
The breeze brought sounds of neighing and men shouting and dogs barking. In fact, the horses had been nervous all afternoon. There was magic in the air and she couldn’t feel it.
“With your permission, Your Highness, I think we should go inside,” she said, and Queen Cygna did not object. She walked silent next to Johanna on the path towards the palace. There were things Johanna wanted to say, but didn’t know how to broach them. About Roald, about Father, about herself. But she couldn’t find the right words. The queen had seemed so very fragile and upset at Roald’s misbehaviour. She didn’t want to risk saying something inappropriate.
Just outside the door, the queen held Johanna back.
“Thank you.” Her voice was soft.
“Your Highness?” Thank you, what for?
The queen hesitated. Seen through the black veil, her face was exquisite, her skin soft and pale, as yet marred by few lines, her eyes the clearest blue. A few wisps of flaxen hair peeped out from underneath the black lace.
“Roald is a good boy. He gets confused easily and takes instructions literally. He doesn’t know when it is appropriate to say certain . . . things. He gets these ideas into his head and wants to talk about them with everyone. I’m afraid his father did some explaining about what’s involved in getting married, and he took an unexpected interest to certain private parts of it. I’m truly sorry for anything upsetting that he might have said to you. But I say again, even if he is unusual, he is a good man and would never harm anyone.”
“I understand, Your Highness.”
“No. You do not.” She patted Johanna on the arm and then froze, looking over Johanna’s shoulder. “Look.”
As they both watched, a creature sleek and agile like a cat, but made entirely out of fire, jumped from the flames onto another roof, setting it alight with a touch of its tail.
Queen Cygna gasped. “Fire demons.” The firelight made her face look pale. Her eyes were wide.
“I need to go to my father. His warehouse is somewhere over there.”
“Yes, you should do that.” The queen’s eyes were wide. “But after you have done that, you should get out of here, and you should warn everyone to do the same. You cannot fight these creatures and their masters.”
Johanna’s heart jumped. “Your Highness, do you know what those creatures are and where they come from?” She saw snarling demons shown to her by Loesie’s basket. A chill went over her. The prick of magic made the air crackle. Loesie. She was in the barn. She was either possessed and part of the evil, or she was in danger down there near the fire.
The queen said in a low voice, “My husband and his advisors played with things they didn’t understand. The Burovian priests were blind for money, and promised things that were not theirs to promise. My husband gave them money, even though I told him it was a bad idea, but like so many times, the voice of a woman doesn’t count. He didn’t listen. He was too keen to have Celine back, and he believed that they could resurrect her.”
“He was talking to a necromancer?”
The queen nodded, her face sad. “Whether or not he could do as his disciples said remains to be seen. I don’t think so, but he’s a powerful magician.”
“Who is this man?”
“I never saw him, and I don’t think my husband did either. We dealt with his followers. They call themselves the dawn order, but they’re nothing more than practitioners of dark magic. I told him not to get involved, but he was too impatient.”
“Are these priests from the sanatorium where Roald was?”
“No, no, not at all. Those good men have also come into danger because of this ill-considered deal. They’re also angry with us, with good reason. The order of the dawn has performed evil rituals in the forest that have disturbed the demons. It was my hope that our withdrawal of Roald could stop their anger, but it’s already too late. Humans and magical creatures both come under the influence of anger. Only humans are capable of forgiveness. You must run and save yourself while you still can. All of us are lost already. Wherever we go, they will find us. Don’t trust any easterners.”
And then, silently and much more quickly than Johanna would have expected for a royal, she was gone.
