Avan's Gift (Queen Avan, #1)

by Alice Ivinya

  Klia gave me a puzzled look but closed her eyes and smiled. Still nothing. Maybe there was not enough going on in her head? The unkind thought rose unbidden and I squashed it. Probably could say the same about me.

  “What do I do now?” said Klia, assuming it was some kind of game.

  I thought quickly. Klia was not the sort of person I wanted to discuss the visions with. “What are you thinking about?”

  She grinned. “That time we ‘accidentally’ dyed Hubert’s trousers around the crotch so it looked like he’d had an accident. Then we hid behind the barn to watch his reaction when he put them on. Do you remember? I’ve never struggled so hard not to laugh aloud.”

  I snorted. Hubert had once been a fancy of Klia’s and he had flirted with her on multiple occasions until one day he’d kissed her. When Klia found out he had kissed Daisy the same day, her ideas for revenge had been swift.

  My friend opened her eyes. “There. It isn’t so hard to laugh, is it?”

  I squeezed her hands. “You will have to learn to behave now you’re to be married.”

  “Never.” She grinned and turned back to the mirror.

  IN VALE, WEDDINGS HAD always been in the meadow under billowing white canopies and in the Grove that nestled at its side. Seeing Klia’s ceremony squeezed into a stone courtyard made me feel homesick. It was still beautiful, the courtyard walls supporting magnolia trees that Joff had paid more experienced Growers to make bloom and ribbons strung between them so that they fluttered in the breeze. I was surprised that the Arts were still allowed to be used in such frivolous ways here. There were few signs of the dying world beyond the walls.

  Klia beamed and looked stunning with the sunlight dancing in her uncovered hair, turning it gold. Bea had embroidered her dress, helped by Reg’s mother, and it fitted her perfectly. It was in the gentle blue of forget-me-nots, mirroring the spotless blue of the sky above. There were few guests, mostly Reg’s fellow guards who spoke loudly, studied Klia a little too openly, and drank raucously. I could see that they were surprised that Reg was marrying such a pretty girl.

  As was traditional, an elderly woman led the ceremony, and I was sad she had no connection to Klia. In looks and mannerisms she was similar to Mother Hilda, who would have led the ceremony back home in Vale and had known Klia and I since birth, but still, it wasn’t the same. I wondered if Mother Hilda was still alive, she had been so frail when we had left. This woman, who was merely a stranger, wrapped dead slender branches around the couple’s entwined arms and Grew them so they sprouted and bloomed until the two seemed one. Klia beamed at her husband through the leaves and Reg couldn’t keep his eyes off her. The old woman said the words of blessing and then the couple sat down at the small head table for feasting, still bound by the plants.

  There were only a few seats available, the main table shoved to one side of the courtyard for people to help themselves, then take their place at the permanent benches around the walls. I took a pastry and some wine from the table, unsure of my place. I smiled every time Klia or her family looked my way, but it was hard to join in the merriment. There were so few people here from Vale, and I wondered what state the others of our party were in with the Tharans. Would we see them again?

  I kept thinking of Cedric and the words he’d whispered in the dark in the mill. Or rather the words he hadn’t said. Was this part of his daydream? A simple commoner’s wedding? Had it crossed his mind to make me his bride? I shook my head. I was reading too much into what had happened. We barely knew each other. Anyway, he was a prisoner in Tahara and probably would soon forget about me. And here I was living a life as if nothing at all had happened on my journey here. It was like I had imagined Cedric and Lord Jasper and our wild run through the weavergrass, my hand clutched in the Prince’s.

  I dipped into an alcove in the courtyard and sat behind a statue for privacy. I nibbled on my apple pastry and sipped the too warm wine before leaning my head back on the stone with my eyes closed.

  Mrs Firth’s voice, for once not shouting over a cacophony of squawks and clucks, drifted to my ear. She was probably too much of a gossip for even the Tharans to stomach. “It’s like I always said, Dan. I always knew Klia would complain and laze around until she found some man. Remember, I said last summer, ‘Anyone will do that thinks she’s pretty’, and look where we are now? See, I was right. Known him for a few weeks, she has. There’s something wrong with the young lot. None work as hard as we do and all we get from them is complaints, even though we have this drought. That Avan is the same. They’ll never do an honest day’s work in their lives.”

  I sighed, my eyes still closed, and remembered wringing the neck of one of her chickens in front of Cedric with a stab of mean pleasure. Maybe Mrs Firth was right, but I didn’t understand how her generation was so content doing the same job as their parents all their lives. How they never seemed bored.

  “Well, well, who do we have here?” came a close, all too familiar voice.

  I jolted upright and spilt wine down my clothes. On the other side of the curved bench, half hidden by the statue, sat Lord Jasper, slumped back with his arms spread along the top of the stone seat. For a moment I thought I had to be dreaming or hallucinating again, but there was no white mist. No jump of logic in my memories. But this was impossible. How was he here in Herne?

  I stood up but he pounced and pulled me down again by my arm, a finger on his lips. “Hush, Avan, there’s a good girl. I mean no harm. I just thought we could have a civil conversation.”

  I edged as far from him as I could and pressed my back against the stone bench. “Why are you here?” I hissed. “Have you returned Cedric?”

  He grinned lazily at me, his black hair flopping forwards. I regretted to admit that he was very good looking. “It’s nice to see you too. I’m afraid Cedric is now in Tahara, but don’t fret your little head. He’s fine and an Eltarian healed him. We’re not as savage as you Farthi think.” He chuckled. “Did you know he always wanted to run away? I suspect he’s actually quite enjoying himself.”

  “Then why are you here,” I spat. “Leave me alone. Did you know this wedding is full of guards? I can call them at a moment.”

  He waved my comment away. “And in a moment I’d be gone and you wouldn’t hear what I have to say. No, as much as I’d love to say I came all this way for you, I actually had other business in the city. Some people are much better persuaded when face to face.” He grinned, showing too many teeth. “I just thought I’d visit as I was passing, to see how you were getting on. You were surprisingly easy to find.”

  I frowned. “Who were you trying to persuade? Have you accepted a ransom for Cedric and the other Growers?”

  Lord Jasper shook his head, hands running up and down his bare arms. “Don’t worry about Cedric and the Growers. The best way you can help them is by worrying about yourself.”

  I tried to edge even further from him, tensing, ready to run. “Why do I need to worry about myself?”

  He looked towards the party and cocked his head. “Has anything strange been happening to you, Avan? Besides running away with a prince, that is.” He chuckled and it was so deep it was almost a growl. “I thought I’d give you a hint, being a generous man. Your special talent only works on Growers, and you can do more than you think. Why not push yourself, experiment a little? Then I may be willing to reach a bargain.”

  He winked, stood on the bench, and pulled himself over the wall above my head using the shoulder of the statue. Then he was gone.

  I staggered out of the alcove and grabbed the nearest soldier, grateful to be surrounded by people again. “Lord Jasper! The Tharan! He was there!”

  The guests in earshot stared at me and then burst out in laughter. I tried again but then was forcibly sat down with a glass of water, despite the fact I’d barely drunk. I focused on my hands until they had stopped shaking and rubbed my forehead. I sounded ridiculous, mad. Was I seeing things, like they thought? I knew that people who had seen traumatic events
sometimes relived them and saw things that weren’t there. But, no, that had been real.

  What, by the earth, was the Tharan lord doing here? Trying to scare me? Taunt me? Why did he think I was worth the effort? Surely he wasn’t actually trying to help? Not after how heartless he had been with Cedric. And how did he know about the visions, if that was what he’d been referring to? And if he knew about my gift why hadn’t he captured me before? What did he want me to experiment on here?

  “By the Arts,” I cursed and angrily drank my glass of water in one. Then I realised I had spilt wine all down Klia’s borrowed dress when Lord Jasper had startled me. No wonder everyone thought I was drunk.

  I looked around the edge of the courtyard for any trace of Tharans, but there were none. Behind me the line dances started and the multicoloured lanterns were lit. I excused myself to soak the dress before the stain set in, and I really wasn’t comfortable without Chancellor Felix’s dagger. I was going to keep it on me at all times now.

  Once the dress was finally in a full tub with lye soap, I watched the last dances from my window, wearing nothing but my shift and clutching the dagger. I sat on the sill and tucked my knees under my chin, warmed by my shaking breath. The fireflies winked amongst the festivities, but none came close to me. I was alone. I sighed and closed the shutters.

  THAT NIGHT I SLEPT alone, since Klia was now married. At first I stretched out and enjoyed the space, but I woke up three times in a panic, thinking Lord Jasper had broken into my room and was peering down at me, smiling, or lounging in the bed next to me. Every time I woke, I got up to check that the window shutters were locked and I placed more trip hazards in front of the door. I hugged my knees and wished somebody was here who understood and believed me. If this continued, I would get a dog. One with enormous teeth. At least his horrible bear wouldn’t be able to get in here.

  In the end I rose in the half light of false dawn and strapped the dead chancellor’s dagger to my belt. The weight of the heavy metal made me feel safer, even though I had no idea how to use it. The house was silent, everyone exhausted from the wedding, so I wrapped myself in my shawl and slipped out the door.

  The streets were deserted, but far above in the green canopy a cacophony of birds sang to welcome the dawn. Herne felt barely touched by the drought, with the river being close and the abundance of Growers. It was bliss to see so much green and have shade again.

  The crisp morning air cleared my head as I meandered aimlessly. I wondered whether I should keep living with Klia’s family or try to lodge somewhere? They had been so generous with me, but I didn’t want to outstay my welcome and Klia would want more space to spend time with her husband. But then, what would I do to earn enough to rent a room of my own? I pulled my shawl tighter. Maybe the reason I longed to have Cedric back was because when I had been with him, we had had a clear sense of purpose. I didn’t want to return to my meaningless wanderings, unable to muster enthusiasm towards anything.

  Not having anywhere to go or be, I gravitated towards the closest tree trunk, thicker than several houses. If I lived in Herne for the rest of my life, I didn’t think I would get bored with staring up at those magnificent pillars. The streets were shadowy and meandering, making the tree appear closer than it was, and I realised I was drifting closer to the castle. The guards chatting around braziers at the street junctions made me feel safe and they barely glanced in my direction.

  At last the houses stopped to make a clearing around the huge trunk and I was free to observe it fully. There were locked doors in the bark, but open carved staircases that spiralled around the outside, bolted to the tree. Maybe I could climb to the high branches and watch the sunrise in all its glory. I walked to the closest one, but a movement in the shadows made me jump. Another woman stood alone, but she was dressed in a light cloak rather than a shawl, so I guessed she was someone wealthy from Upper Herne. She pressed her hand against the bark and looked up to the distant branches above and the lattice of green and pale grey.

  “Are you a Grower?” My words seemed loud in the early morning stillness.

  The woman startled and whipped around. She looked me up and down then relaxed, dismissing me. “Yes, but I’m not responsible for this tree.”

  “Do you live up there?” I gazed at the tiny lights winking out in the branches as dawn started filtering through the leaves.

  The woman frowned back at me. “Who are you?”

  I hesitated under her glare. “I’m Avan. I’ve come from Vale.”

  The woman turned back to the tree. “I’ve never heard of Vale. Now you’re in Herne, you should learn your station. Villagers don’t normally speak to nobles.”

  I sighed inside. An unpleasant noblewoman. Great. “I’m sorry. You’re alone, so I didn’t know.”

  The woman lifted her chin a little. “Most people know me on sight.”

  Her words made me smile in memory. “You sound like Prince Cedric, but you’re not at all like him,” I muttered and took a step away.

  The woman overheard and flashed me a wry smile. “No other noble is like Prince Cedric. Now do I need to summon the guards to stop being pestered?” She raised an eyebrow.

  I gazed around. We really were alone. Maybe this was the moment I’d been waiting for. I sized the woman up, suspecting she was nothing but bluster. I stepped beside her and gazed up at the trunk. “What are you doing?”

  The woman sighed. “I was listening. No other plant sounds like these huge, ancient trees, and I find it calming.” She folded her arms and frowned at me.

  I put my hand to the tree where hers had been. I remembered how it had felt when Cedric had put his hand to the earth and felt the threads of dying song from the grasses. I tried to mimic the sensation and search for the tiny taught strings vibrating. In the darkness of my mind, I stumbled upon a deep torrent. Instead of vibrating high brass notes, it seemed to shake and rumble. A tumble of life and joy and vitality. I let myself be swept away by it up, up the trunk, parts of me spinning out into branches, basking in the newborn sun. The torrent became rivers, then streams then a thousand trickles that sung high and pure. I pulled myself back down, back to the rumbling power of the trunk, and for a moment I was lost in peace and life.

  I removed my hand. “I see what you mean,” I murmured, blinking rapidly.

  The woman gave me a quizzical look. “Are you a Grower?”

  My insides twisted. I didn’t know what I was. I wasn’t supposed to be gifted, and had failed all the tests as a child. I’d never been able to do anything. But then how had I done that? I’d used the memories and simply copied Cedric. Somehow the memories had given me enough information for me to perform the Art, like showing me a door in my mind I had never noticed before full of new sensations. I shrugged.

  “Well, either you’re lying about hearing the tree or you are one. And you must be a good one to hear plants, as that’s rare amongst the Growers. That means you can Grow plants and make the ground fertile as well.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think I can.”

  The woman gave me the strangest look. “Are you sure you could hear the tree? If you can master that, the others are easy.”

  I twisted my hands. “Can you show me?”

  The woman hesitated, then brought out a small black seed. She placed it in my hand. “Feel its life flow and then make it expand, burst, rejoice.”

  I tried to feel those threads of life I had felt moments before, but all I got was one tiny ringing note like a pinprick of life. I tried to force the note louder but I couldn’t. Lord Jasper had said my gift would only work on Growers, so maybe I would be able to see her thoughts and learn her Arts like I had with Cedric and Elia. I looked at the woman helplessly. “I can’t change the note. I’m sorry but I need you to show me. Can you make the seed grow, here in my hands?”

  The woman shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. You have to do it by yourself.”

  “Please,” I begged.

  The woman frowned but laid a han
d in mine and I willed my mind into hers. Nothing, at first, but I almost sighed in relief when the white mist appeared.

  I looked down at the girl in front of me with her unusual bright hair still ruffled from bed as if she couldn’t be bothered to brush it. What, by the earth, was I doing? Showing an ignorant village girl how to Grow when she claimed to hear the great trees of Herne. She had to be lying or mistaken. I should go back to the castle and she would have to leave me. It was past dawn now, anyway.

  Instead, I pressed the poppy seed and cradled the single note like an ember. I blew on it, fanning it into flame. I pulled the note, making it thrum and vibrate until it stretched. The seed broke out of its shell and the shoot pushed up and up, the roots curling around the village girl’s hands. Leaves burst forth in a celebration of life and the bud dropped as it grew heavy before great red petals unfurled, glistening like blood. The poppy stood a full two foot tall and brushed the gormless girl’s face.

  I pulled my hands away from the noblewoman’s still cradling the base of the poppy. It swayed at the movement and I worried the stem would snap. Carefully, I nestled it between the coiling roots of the tree and covered its roots with soil. It stood alone and bright next to the grey cobbles of the street. Such a beautiful gift...

  I turned back to the woman. “May I have another seed?” I asked.

  The woman handed me another tiny black speck. I closed my eyes and tried to mimic exactly what she had done. The note quivered beneath my mental stroking and started to grow. My heart soured and my pulse pounded with the sensation. I expanded it and stretched and laughed. Life! I was bringing life! And beauty and scent and hope.

  I tugged the note as far as it would stretch, louder and louder until I could feel new notes, all in harmony, clustered together. I pulled on those too, making them all sing a beautiful song together. I stroked each new thread of life until their chorus was loud.