“Duchess Florett, you’ve returned.” Her gaze flickered towards me as if to glance over me, but for a moment we 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.
Want more? Get the entire trilogy available now.
Also by Nicolette Andrews
World of Akatsuki
The Dragon Saga:
The Priestess and the Dragon
The Sea Stone
The Song of the Wind
Tales of Akatsuki
Kitsune: A Little Mermaid Retelling
Yuki: A Snow White Retelling
Diviner’s World
Duchess
Sorcerer (Newsletter Exclusive)
Diviner’s Prophecy
Diviner’s Curse
Diviner’s Fate
Princess
Thornwood Series
Fairy Ring
Heart of Thorns
About the Author
Nicolette is a native San Diegan with a passion for the world of make believe. From a young age, Nicolette was telling stories whether it be writing plays for her friends to act out or making a series of children’s books that her mother still likes drag out to embarrass her with in front of company. She still lives in her imagination but in reality she resides in San Diego with her husband, children and a couple of cats. She loves reading, attempting arts and crafts, and cooking.
The Song of the Wind Page 37
