Avan's Gift (Queen Avan, #1)

by Alice Ivinya

  “Could be,” Cedric said, sceptically. “Come on.” He took my hand and pulled me further away from the road, bent double. His hand was warm and calloused and when the eagle was out of sight, I slipped my hand from his grip. “It’s gone. You can’t just take a girl’s hand, you know,” I hissed. The coldness in my stomach and my thudding heart made me irritable. Why was my body responding so extremely?

  Cedric looked sheepish but held his tongue until we were well away from the road. My heart calmed and my stomach eased, leaving me with a vague sense of nausea.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I did it automatically. Makes less noise and movement than talking or gesturing, you see. And I think those boy’s clothes make me forget you’re a woman.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “You forgot I was a woman?” I repeated dryly.

  Cedric blushed. He was just too easy to tease and I was grateful for the distraction. “Well, not that you’re a woman underneath, just that I’m meant to treat you like a woman.”

  I suppressed a smile. “A woman underneath? Underneath my clothes?” I raised my eyebrows and the prince’s blush deepened.

  “I... I... well... eh...”

  I snorted a laugh and Cedric tried to weakly join in. “Look,” he said, suddenly. I looked where he was pointing, sure he was just changing the topic. The skeletal trees were thinning ahead and the sun shone brighter between them. “We must be close to the next settlement.” He glanced down at me. “Maybe you should stay here. I’ll scout around the place and return. If it’s safe, we can then go together.”

  I shook my head, feeling the coldness around my stomach again at the thought of being completely alone in these woods. “Don’t start treating me like a lady now. I’m coming with you.”

  He frowned at me. “But you can’t fight.”

  I glared at him. “But I can run and hide. Anyway, I’m not a Grower. They’re not even after me, they’re after you. Maybe I should be the one who goes and you stay.”

  Prince Cedric paused for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about that. Fine, we’ll go together. Try not to draw attention. No glaring.”

  I put my hands on my hips, trying to hide my relief. “What do you mean, ‘no glaring’?”

  “Well, you’re doing a pretty good example right now. Don’t glare at people. We want to be easily overlooked until we know we’re safe.” He started to walk towards the edge of the wood, but I didn’t immediately follow, making him turn and raise his eyebrows at me.

  “Cedric, I don’t just glare at random people. Only ones that are really annoying me.”

  The prince turned and strode forward on his annoyingly long legs. “Keep up,” he called back. Then he threw a large floppy hat at me from his bag. “And tuck your hair into that. Pretend to be a man.”

  I sighed and coiled my braid on top of my head, holding it in place with the hat. Cedric didn’t stop and it was hard to place the hat right while walking. His gait was so fast he was rapidly nearing the edge of the wood. “By the earth...” I muttered, breaking into a stumbling run. I only lasted a few steps before my hips hurt too much and I attempted a fast walk.

  He was just past the last of the trees by the time I caught up, panting heavily. “Are you sure you could outrun Tharans?” Cedric asked with one eyebrow raised.

  I ignored him and looked at the farmland ahead. The trees opened up to a valley with a village either side, the road veering through one, then the other. There were signs of life here. One field looked freshly harvested and there were people walking on the road between the two nests of houses. Even from here I could see the first village’s bright green town oak.

  “Will you tell them who you are?” I asked as we walked towards the road. There was nowhere to hide in the fields.

  “I’m not sure which is safer. It would be awfully handy if we could get some horses and some hot meals, and I have money for that. No need to throw my title around unless it would help us, especially as someone might want to rob us. I doubt we’ll meet soldiers now. Survivors from the raid will probably travel to Herne quicker than us to get the news ahead to my father and gather reinforcements.”

  I pushed through the last dead bushes and stepped onto the road of hard-packed dirt. My legs felt lighter without all the undergrowth pushing back and we picked up speed. “Horses and hot meals sound good, since your ‘Tharan bred war horse’,” I mimicked his posh accent, “ran away. We can ask around for any villagers from our group. They might still be here, or only recently left.” I doubted Klia and her family would have stopped so soon with two horses between them. Joff was a hunter tracker and knew shortcuts through the forest away from the villages. But if Reg’s wound had been bad, they might have had to.

  We neared the village and were soon drawing questioning glances from the inhabitants. It wasn’t common to see strangers travelling on the roads between the southwest villages. Still, two Farthi men in well made clothes weren’t odd enough to stop to question. They probably thought we worked for a local lord. None looked closely enough to see the embroidered squirrels of the royal house of Arden.

  We walked past the dreary wooden houses. Some had been built between two living trees, though many were now dead, their branches snapped and lurking sinisterly over the roofs, casting sharp shadows in the glaring sun. The road led straight to the town oak and had few side roads. Traditionally the inn always faced the oak to make it easier for travellers to find, and sure enough there was the painted sign of the bright red tree.

  Cedric asked why the country inns all had the same sign and I was surprised at his ignorance. Surely kings and princes knew everything? I explained quietly, feeling as if the hushed town was listening. “It’s a blood maple tree. They’re also known as the journeyman’s tree because of how far the seeds travel before landing. They’re bright red and spin in the wind. Really pretty and distinctive. Travellers are like the seeds, you see?” In spring, it was common to see stray bright red double keys spinning down every path, each flying a haphazard journey alone.

  We walked up to the inn and Cedric opened the door for me. I was grateful he had money and we wouldn’t have to beg. This would have been so much harder on my own; people weren’t so generous with food these days. The inn was empty, probably because it was not yet lunchtime. The only noise was the clatter of the innkeeper unstacking chairs onto a newly mopped floor. I wiped my boots self consciously. “I’ll do the talking,” I whispered to Cedric. His fancy accent would stick out.

  “Sir?” I called. “We’re from Vale, two villages south down the road. We were attacked by Tharans a day’s walk away. Have any others from our party reached here? A man who was shot in the shoulder?”

  The skinny man leant against a table to study us and I knew my disguise wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny. His expression stayed neutral so I couldn’t tell if he minded I was in male clothes or not. He was older than I had expected and had only a wispy rim of hair. One of my ma’s favourite sayings came to mind: ‘Never trust a thin cook, baker or innkeeper.’ Then again, she never trusted anyone. I grimaced at the memory of my ma, finding I didn’t really miss her, at least not yet, despite all that had happened. Though I did hope she would come and find me in Herne.

  “There was a group of three. Two lasses and a man. They stopped to get water at the well and food then returned south. Then this morning there was a lass by herself. She couldn’t afford a room so is staying in the baker’s attic. She was from Elmhill. That’s further east than Vale, aye?” He looked us up and down and the well made clothes. “Looks like you won’t have the same problem.”

  I sighed at how much he was bumping his prices up in his head. Maybe it was a good idea for nobody to know quite how rich Cedric was. “We’re not looking to stay,” I blurted. “Just a hot meal, some provisions and we’re looking to buy two horses.”

  The innkeeper rubbed his chin. “You won’t be finding any horses for sale here, times being what they are. A hot meal I can do, though. Are you sure you don’t want t
o stay the night? The two of you look like you could do with a wash and some rest.”

  “A bath would be great,” agreed Cedric. I looked at him wide eyed and the innkeeper laughed.

  “Even outside of a drought it’s a rare day I have a customer expect a bath! Nay, it will be a half bucket of warmed well water and a cloth.”

  I looked at Cedric meaningfully. “Wash water, and a meal will be enough, thank you.”

  The innkeeper gestured to a table and pulled back a chair for me. When he left, I grinned at Cedric. “See, he still manages to remember I’m a woman, despite my clothes.”

  “I didn’t really forget. Anyway, I’m sorry that few of your village are here.”

  I shrugged and pulled off my hat, shaking my braid free. There was nobody here, anyway. “It doesn’t change anything. We still need to get to Herne to send people to rescue the Growers.”

  The innkeeper returned with two mugs of ale and I thanked him. His lips gave a subtle downward twitch at my uncovered hair, even though he hadn’t blinked at the clothes. Cedric nodded to me. “I’ll lead the expedition myself. That should give it more momentum. That and Felix’s death.” He grew subdued and nursed his drink.

  “Did he have family?” I asked.

  The prince nodded. “He has a wife, though she’s rarely at Herne. Then he has two married daughters. The eldest is Elenor. She’s married to my youngest brother, Killian. Quite a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Do you have two brothers? You mentioned Rupert before.”

  Cedric’s gaze turned wistful. “Yes. Now Rupert is the man who should really be king. He always seems to know what to do. But he’s actually just mine and Killian’s half brother. My father had a mistress, you see, so Rupert isn’t in line to inherit.”

  I frowned. “Seems unfair to me if he would do a good job.”

  The prince nodded. “Indeed. However, that’s not the way the nobility sees it. They like the line of ascension to be clear to reduce conflict and the mother to have a rich family behind her to insure funds.”

  The innkeeper returned with a meal of fried vegetables and even a tiny piece of meat. “Not allowed water for a stew anymore, so just sauce, I’m afraid,” he muttered.

  “Of course,” said Cedric, eager to redeem himself from his blunder about the bath. “It looks delicious, my thanks.”

  The innkeeper raised a sceptical eyebrow at the eager young man and disappeared back down the stairs.

  “Is your half-brother married?” I asked. “Rupert?”

  Cedric shook his head. “Father is happy to leave him to choose for himself.”

  “And what about you?” I asked carefully. “Why is your younger brother married before you?”

  Cedric sighed. “Father is taking his time choosing the best future queen. He uses it as a prize to play lords off one another.”

  “Oh,” I said, imagining what that would feel like. “You must have a lot of ladies after your hand then.”

  Cedric scratched his head. “I suppose. After my crown more like.” He grimaced. “Father always likes the crafty ones for some reason. They make me uncomfortable.”

  I took a few mouthfuls of a shrivelled fried carrot and it tasted surprisingly good. I was saving the few bites of meat until last.

  Cedric gestured at me, asking me a question just as my mouth was full. “And you? You’re quite old to be unwed, aren’t you? I thought country girls got married young?”

  I choked on my carrot. “What do you mean I’m old? I’m not that much older than you. I’m nineteen.”

  “Older than me?” Cedric puffed himself up and grew an inch. “I’m twenty, I’ll have you know.”

  I looked at his face and shoulders again. “Twenty?” I filled my voice with scepticism.

  Cedric blushed. “I’m still growing,” he mumbled. “Anyway, stop avoiding the question. Are you engaged?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have a father to play matchmaker like yourself. My mother is a bit of a recluse, and I suppose I’ve never appeared responsible enough to run a house yet.”

  Cedric raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised somebody like you would need a matchmaker.”

  I opened and closed my mouth in surprise, then tried to cover it up by pretending to chew and swallow before taking another bite.

  After we had finished our meal, the innkeeper returned to clear our plates and direct us to a room we could wash in, one at a time. As he handed us towels he said, “I thought about where you might find a horse. Instead of following the road to Hollythorne, the next village, go straight north. There’s a track that takes you to the top of the hill. There’s a windmill at the highest point where the wind blows the strongest. Mari lives there and her son just left for Herne as a Grower. Good lass. She is probably looking to sell a few things to make ends meet.”

  Cedric frowned. “Poor woman.” He turned to me. “We should help her in her son’s absence. I wonder why she didn’t leave too?”

  The innkeeper sighed and grumbled, “Actually I never got why people would give up all they worked for and lived for to move to the capital where they don’t know a soul. I wish none of our Growers had left.”

  “Herne will send food, you’ll see,” said Cedric.

  The innkeeper eyed him tiredly. “I hope so, lad. I hope so.”

  Chapter Five

  The Windmill

  THE TRACK OFF THE MAIN road was easy enough to find with the innkeeper’s directions. It led through a huge field of weavergrass that was taller than me. Though dead, each blade was strong and flexible. We didn’t grow the grass in Vale, but traded for it to weave into baskets, hats, mats and kindling. Nothing burnt like weavergrass, and as such it had become hard to find in the drought, with many farmers deeming it too unsafe. This field must have shot up in value over the last three years and now had to be worth a fortune.

  I still wore Cedric’s clothes, and the floppy leather hat did a good job of keeping the sun off my fair skin and out of my eyes as the sun became low in the sky. Without a hair wrap, I felt uncomfortable with nothing on my head, even though the track was deserted. I wasn’t used to the feeling of the wind running its fingers through my curls or having to make sure it was presentable. I was growing fond of the hat and wondered if I would get away with wearing one instead of a wrap in Herne. Maybe a weavergrass one with a ribbon.

  The track was uneven with deep cart ruts that had long since solidified into hardened mud, sharper than rock. Still, it was quicker and easier than walking through the undergrowth in the forest. After an hour, the weavergrass stopped and a brown meadow with a windmill in its centre emerged, glowing in the dying light. In past years it must have looked beautiful, a hidden haven. Now it looked sombre and naked with everything exposed in shades of brown and ochre. Next to the windmill, a dried pond was nothing more than an empty pit. A wooden boat lay discarded at the bottom, its planks bleached by the sun. The once mossy stone of the walls now shed fluffy brown tendrils like clumps of hair. The blades of the windmill creaked as they turned, casting sharp shadows in the setting sun. There was no horse in sight.

  Cedric knocked on the door. No response. The wood had warped in its frame and creaked open at a gentle push. Cedric gave a shrug and took a step into the gloom.

  “Excuse me?” called the prince. “Anyone home?” He looked back at me and shrugged. “What does one do in these circumstances?”

  “You’re the prince. Shouldn’t you be in charge of decisions?” I asked with a nudge.

  He returned my smile. “You’re my chief advisor.”

  “Well, it’s a bit creepy, but the sun will set soon and I don’t want to walk all the way back to the inn in the dark.” I peered around his shoulder into the gloomy room.

  “Agreed. She will probably return for the evening soon. If she doesn’t, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if we stayed the night. We could leave some money if the lady doesn’t present herself at all.”

  “I would do anything to sleep in a bed.” I entered aft
er him and we waited for our eyes to adjust. “Maybe she’s left to sell the horse.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  We felt around for candles and firewood and lit the flames with Cedric’s flint box. The main room was round and immaculately tidy. There were almost no personal touches. In one corner was a stepladder into a hayloft which was partitioned by a curtain to form a small bedroom. There was no food in any of the cupboards or stored water. Strange. Maybe the lady had left for Herne, taking everything with her?

  “You can sleep in the bed,” said Cedric. “I’ll sleep down here.” He started to move some blankets in front of the fire.

  I looked up at the dark hayloft and felt unease slither through my stomach. I scooped his blankets back up again. “No, you won’t. I’m not sleeping up there by myself. Can’t you sleep in the hay on the other side of the curtain?”

  Cedric obediently carried the blankets up the stepladder with them awkwardly balanced over his shoulder. I followed up behind him as he arranged the blankets over the hay, to see if I could help. In the end I just stood at the top of the ladder with my chin resting on my folded arms, trying to imagine him as a king. It was impossible.

  We spitted and cooked the chicken I had caught the day before over the fire and we were so eager for the dripping meat we both burnt our fingers and our tongues. The bird had been thin but every mouthful felt luxurious. After dinner, we settled down to sleep. It felt strange sleeping in somebody else’s bed, especially as they were unaware. I hoped they didn’t come back in the middle of the night and assume we were thieves. The rhythmic creaking of the windmill blades would easily hide the noise of the door opening.

  I listened to Cedric rolling over and fidgeting through the curtain. He sneezed.

  “Maybe you should have had the bed, being a prince and all,” I conceded.

  “Nonsense. This isn’t the first time I’ve slept on hay on the floor.”