by Sam Ledel
Whoever—or whatever—was in here was unsuccessful in getting farther into the castle. This gave her the slightest push of courage, and she took another step forward before pausing outside the open pen. There was a rustle, like something moving amongst the hay.
Deciding there was only one way to continue, Aurelia leapt through the open gate, her head high as she let a red flame go.
But whoever was crouched in the dark corner of the stable was quick. They had already formed a blue shield the size of the berry shrubs that lined the edge of the woods, and Aurelia’s red saol crashed into it. The shield’s light flickered and cracked, dimming in places. Still, the light from the two flames colliding had illuminated the stable enough for Aurelia to see a cloak-covered intruder. The cloak was a simple one, and as the blue flame crackled and absorbed the fading red light, she noticed torn, dirt-covered boots and weathered breeches.
The figure rose. Their blue light shrank to fist-size, and Aurelia saw the slight curve of a hip and…was that the end of a braid?
“Thief! Hoodlum!” Drest jumped into the pen, positioning himself behind Aurelia, who turned to see his eyes going clear. The formerly stagnant air picked up. The figure, not seven paces away, stood and readied their arm to throw a fully formed blue orb. Drest scoffed.
“You dare attack royalty?”
At this, the blue flame all but vanished. The figure lowered their arm, their fingertips glowing softly. The air was still picking up, and Aurelia raised a cautious hand.
“Wait.”
Drest’s eyes returned to their normal hazel. “But, Princess—”
“Princess?”
Aurelia and Drest turned. The voice opposite them was that of a girl. No, not a girl. A woman. Or, just barely one, like Aurelia.
As if to confirm this, the person stepped forward. Drest reached for a torch on the wall, then held it out to better see. The woman pulled back her hood, revealing a narrow face smudged with dirt on one ruddy cheek. Her thin lips were set in a straight line, and her tunic gaped just below her collarbones. Aurelia jerked her gaze up to the stranger’s hazel eyes, which were set directly on her.
“You are the princess?” she asked. The now-exposed braid of strawberry-blond dangled over the front of her shoulder when she spoke.
“Yes, she is,” Drest responded vehemently, standing with his chest out. “And you will bow before a member of the royal family.”
The woman, after what seemed like an eternity of sizing up Aurelia, glanced at Drest. Her eyes shimmered mischievously, but she bowed. When she straightened, Drest spoke again.
“What did you think you were doing lurking around here? I see your belt; you are a local. From where—”
“Drest,” Aurelia cut him off. He opened his mouth to protest, but she said, “I can speak for myself, thank you.”
Aurelia swore she saw the hint of a smile on the woman’s lips. Clearing her throat, she said, “Well, what business do you have here? If you’ve come to steal our horses, I’m afraid you’ve mistimed things a bit.”
“I’m not a thief.”
Drest snorted. The woman’s jaw clenched, and she stepped forward. She was nearly a head shorter than Drest but she seemed resolute in her stance. “I came here seeking audience with the queen. I need…my family needs her help.”
“Is that why you were trying to break into the castle?” Aurelia asked, nodding to the door.
When the woman only shuffled her feet, Aurelia folded her arms over her chest. “Please, may we know your name?”
“Jaaastyyynn!”
The cry, followed by an uproar from the chicken coop, made them all turn to the front of the stables. A flash of red hair whirled feverishly as a rooster flapped around the stable boy, who crashed through the door. The surrounding torchlight danced in all of the commotion. The boy stumbled forward, emitting irritated groans and muttered swears. “Wait!” he cried, blindly swinging at the chickens whooshing overhead. His foot landed with an unfortunate thwump into the slop bucket. When all of the feathers and up-kicked hay finally settled, Coran stood before them, claw scratches along his hands and face and his left foot dragging the bucket half a step behind him.
“Please, Princess Aurelia, let me explain.”
“You?” Drest sneered. “I knew you had something to do with this.”
“Drest.” Aurelia rolled her eyes. “Wait a moment, please.”
“Coran had nothin’ to do with this,” the woman said. Aurelia caught a faint tremble in her voice. “Please, he was only helping me. He told me I could meet with you,” she explained, gesturing to Aurelia. The boy stared at the ground while fingering a tear in his threaded shirt. “But I…I wanted to see the queen. Not you.”
Aurelia nearly stepped back into Drest. They must not teach much in the way of respect in the village. Working to quell her wounded pride, she placed her hands on her hips. “Oh?”
“The queen is a great healer, is she not?”
“Queen Dechtire is a wondrous healer,” Drest answered. “What care you of her abilities?”
The woman kept her eyes on Aurelia when she responded. “My sister is very sick. And we’ve done everything we can. I’m afraid…I fear we are out of options.”
“You’ve visited the local alchemist?”
“Yes, and we have tried his herbs. But Alanna—my sister—nothing has worked. And she is getting worse.” Aurelia noticed the woman’s words came in bursts, with deliberate pauses every so often as if she was minding her tongue.
“You’re sure you’ve done everything? Tried the special waters and remedies?”
“Nothing works. Which is why I seek your mother’s help. I know she has done things for the village in the past. Helped to heal those in need.”
Aurelia pondered this. Meanwhile, the stable boy fidgeted, trying to unstick his foot. She felt Drest brimming with the desire to speak, so she continued before he could.
“Jastyn, is it?”
The woman nodded.
“Please, what is your surname?”
A tint of color swam in Jastyn’s cheeks. “I am the daughter of Elisedd Eidhin of Marcra.”
“The horse master?” Drest stepped forward. “He has spoken of a daughter, but of a much younger one.” His hand drifted to the grip of his sword. Jastyn’s eyes followed this carefully.
“Yes, that would be my sister, Alanna. The one who is sick.”
Curiosity ran rampant within her, but Aurelia worked to maintain a calm façade. She imagined once again what her brother might do.
“I am sorry for your sister’s state,” she said. “But I’m afraid my mother and father, well, the whole castle, for that matter, we are frightfully busy at the moment. Things are…” She racked her mind, realizing news of potential war probably shouldn’t be shared with villagers. “We are simply handling too many affairs right now. I don’t think my mother, or rather, Queen Dechtire, would have time to offer aid at present.”
Jastyn’s eyes flashed with something, and her jaw tightened.
“Yes,” Drest added, “very important matters of the kingdom.” He put on his charming smile and moved past Aurelia into the pen. He walked up to Jastyn and placed one arm around her as Aurelia watched, wide-eyed.
“We are terribly sorry at the news regarding Elisedd’s daughter,” he cooed, and Aurelia cringed as he led Jastyn out of the pen and back to the stable doors. She had never minded Drest talking his way into a shorter lesson, but for some reason, his tone mixed with his arm around Jastyn felt wrong.
Aurelia and Coran, who had extracted his foot and was now untangling feathers from his hair, followed them outside. The sky was nearly dark, and the first few stars shone overhead. Drest was still talking when Jastyn slipped out from under his arm. Aurelia used the darkness to take in her fit figure, the hunting blade tucked against one boot, and the lightness of her hair under the rising moonlight. She had gone down into the village many times, usually on a solstice day or kingdom holiday. Yet she couldn’t recall ever se
eing a woman like her at any of the events. Jastyn’s clothing indicated a lower status, but everything else—from the swagger of her step to her strong-looking hands—exuded pride. There was a hardness to Jastyn, and Aurelia couldn’t help but find her intriguing.
“Do not fret,” Drest said. “I’m sure the village alchemist can brew something up that hasn’t been tried yet. There are breakthroughs every day, you know!”
A single, deep horn blew from within the castle. “Ah, that will be the dinner horn. Come, Aurelia,” he said, turning toward the wall that led to a side gate. “We had better be off.”
Aurelia’s stomach churned. Part of her was angry at Drest for dismissing Jastyn so carelessly, but most of her felt guilty. Here she was, finally with a problem of her own, and she was completely useless.
“I’m sorry,” she told Jastyn when Drest was a good ten paces away. She fiddled with the bracelet under the sleeve of her dress. “I truly am. If there was anything I could do, some small token of…”
Jastyn seemed to hardly hear her and was turning to say something to Coran when Aurelia’s fingers froze on the silver metal of the bracelet. By the time she pulled up her sleeve and slipped the band from her wrist, Jastyn and Coran were already halfway across the field, heading toward the Wood.
“Wait!” Aurelia took off after them.
Jastyn stopped. Aurelia ignored Coran’s bemused face as she sprinted to them. Breathless, she grabbed Jastyn’s right arm and placed the bracelet into her upturned palm.
Jastyn looked at her hand. “What…”
“Consider it a small token.” Aurelia smiled. “Perhaps it might help your sister.”
Still beaming, Aurelia shared one more look with the mysterious Jastyn and hurried back to the castle.
Chapter Seven
The following night, Jastyn fumed over her bowl of cornmeal. She was still so furious at the princess and her gift, she hardly heard Elisedd ask her to clean out the cauldron as the rest of the family stood from their table after dinner. Jastyn met Alanna’s eyes while her stepfather grumbled. Her sister, looking suddenly thinner, held intrigue in her gaze. Jastyn gave her what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
Her family retired to the hearth—Mother in the chair, Elisedd in the corner to repair a horse rein, and Alanna lying down by the fire with a book. Meanwhile, Jastyn gathered the old, chipped bowls and black cauldron, then walked outside to the well thirty paces from their home. Gray clouds scattered overhead as if uniting in sympathy for Jastyn’s current state. Several raindrops fell on her shoulders as she reached for the rope and pulled up a full bucket. While she rinsed the dishes, she replayed the events following her run-in with the princess.
“Jewelry?” she had exclaimed once she and Coran were halfway back to their village. “And I thought we ‘common folk’ were ignorant! Does she really think a shiny trinket will heal Alanna?” Jastyn shook with fury as they walked.
Coran shrugged. “Maybe she meant for you to sell it?”
Jastyn halted near a cluster of cypress trees. She could see the rocky hillside where her house was. “Nobody has enough of anything to trade for that bracelet. Look at it!” She held it up under the moonlight. The silver shone, and they admired the three rubies set into its center. “The wealthiest family in the village would have to sell their home and their sheep for this.”
Coran dug a toe into the earth. “Princess Aurelia was only tryin’ to help, Jas.”
She sighed. “Maybe. But I’m running out of time.” She glanced over at the round, thick walls built into the hillside next to her home. Candlelight glowed softly through the windows. She tucked the bracelet into a pocket sewn into her tunic. “Thank you, Coran. For trying.”
He smiled sympathetically, then started off toward his own house. After a moment, he turned. “There’s always Eegit.”
At first, Jastyn had laughed. She imaged the hedgewitch shoving the bracelet into the nest of hair atop her head, dancing around her meadow with glee. But as she watched Coran greet his mother in their open doorway, she decided that Eegit wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
As Jastyn lowered the bucket into the well and collected her clean dishes, she thought maybe it was worth asking Eegit for advice.
* * *
Aurelia jabbed at the bits of lamb chop on her plate, thick gravy pooling along its ribbed edges. The usual evening chatter filled the decadent dining hall where twenty people ate and drank mulled wine around a long, narrow oak table in the middle of the room. Located in the dead center of the castle, the room was always warm. Two wide fireplaces topped by snaking chimneys burned brightly on either side of the room. A troupe of village musicians played lilting, cheery music on lutes and lyres while the royal family and their court dined. At the front of the room, in two high-backed chairs, sat King Grannus and Queen Dechtire. Behind them, towering wooden doors, currently open to allow more air into the room, led to the castle gates and out to the markets.
Aurelia glanced around as she rested her chin into her upturned palm. Dozens of torches lined each wall, throwing shadows across the faces of the dinner guests. Laourn, at her father’s left hand, spoke somberly, as he was wont to do, especially in comparison to her father gesticulating eagerly over a plate of berries and cheese. To Aurelia’s left sat Baroness Enya, caddy-corner to her mother. The women were framed elegantly by pointed deer-skinned chairs. The baroness wore a fitted emerald-green dress that complemented her blond hair and light hazel eyes. Hailing from Gultero, she was taller than most women of the court and had a lither figure compared to the compact ladies who made their way into the kingdom’s social circle after working the fields and herding sheep when they were young.
The baroness’s style stood out, too. Aurelia heard mutterings that the plunging necklaces and the rings that lined her fingers were the sign of “new wealth.” Twenty years ago, she had married the baron and was beside him during his rise in military rank. She stood out in contrast to Queen Dechtire—herself a villager who had captured the heart of the young Prince Grannus—who chose to always don a simple crown and owned a handful of dresses. Baroness Enya adored being able to dress the part. Her dainty fingers tossed a bite of goat cheese into her mouth before she sipped from a goblet of wine. The giant ruby on her left ring finger seemed too big for her bony hand. Her hair was pinned halfway up, the back of it rolled and tucked behind a shimmering dragonfly clip. It became apparent over the years that Drest’s handsome and distinguished features, like his proud chin, came from her. Meanwhile, his intimidating stature was inherited from his built and broad-shouldered father.
Across the table from her sat Drest and Brennus, who seemed wedged between his best friend and Laourn thanks to the barrel-chested men. Yet he never appeared uncomfortable. He spoke warmly with Drest, who was recounting their tale featuring the enigmatic Jastyn.
Since their meeting with Jastyn, Aurelia had found it difficult to think of anything else. Last night, not an hour after their meeting, she had asked Roisin if she had any knowledge of the kingdom’s horse master and his family. But like Drest, she spoke only of a younger daughter, the one who had been ill for some time. Taking a drink from her goblet, Aurelia wondered where Jastyn was now.
“Come now, Drest,” Brennus said. “You speak of her as if she were a common thief.”
“Is she not? She snuck into the stables and very nearly picked her way into the castle. Gods know what she would have taken had we not caught her.”
Aurelia cleared her throat, and both men glanced across the table.
“Very well.” Drest sighed behind a forkful of venison. “If your sister hadn’t stopped her.”
Brennus leaned forward. “Quite the adventure, dear sister.” His eyes twinkled, and pride swelled inside Aurelia. She scooted closer to the table, leaning over her plate to ensure her parents couldn’t listen.
“It was rather exciting.” She poked at a plate of raspberries piled high next to a wax-dripped candle. Then she met her brother’s gaze. “Do you
think I could have done more to help her?”
Drest snorted into his goblet. “I’m sure the lovely scoundrel is rejoicing as we speak; no doubt her family has bought out the local alchemist with your little gift.”
Aurelia was about to protest when Brennus cut in. “She sounds more like a desperate sister doing what she can to help her family.”
A bored wave of his hand and Drest returned to his food.
Aurelia slumped in her chair. “You did what you could,” Brennus said.
She nodded but couldn’t ignore the unease that had settled in her stomach.
Later that night, Aurelia’s mind continued to swim with thoughts of Jastyn. Running a silver-handled, horse-hair brush through one side of her hair, she mused over what Jastyn might have done with the bracelet when her chamber door opened. The deep creak was followed by the quick tread of her mother’s nimble steps. Using the mirror in front of her, Aurelia watched her mother make her way across the room.
“Your father and brother are locked in another meeting in the east tower. I just left them.” Her mother strolled across the black bearskin rug, her long red cloak secured at the breast with a gold pin. Beneath it, a deep blue tunic extended to her shins where it fell above a pair of narrow leather ankle boots. Aurelia’s own feet were snug inside a pair of brown fitted boots; her woolen robe tied around her waist.
While her mother recounted several conversations from dinner, Aurelia’s ears pricked at her mother’s mention of Laourn’s plans for a scouting party in the coming weeks.
“Scouts? Whatever for?” Aurelia asked casually, placing the brush in front of the foggy glass set in an oval frame atop her chestnut table. She hadn’t heard much news of unrest since her quest into the east tower the week before. Perhaps now she could learn more.
Her mother joined her on the bench in front of the vanity. She smiled softly at Aurelia’s reflection, then ran her fingers through her hair.
“Your father believes there are some events worth looking into in the Wood. Since our kingdom claimed this land from the elves, many fae have taken advantage of the vacant fields our people have yet to settle.” She shifted so that she could reach both hands up by Aurelia’s ears and began to twist her hair into a braid. “There have been a few skirmishes in the deeper woods, mostly between fae clans. Nothing to be concerned about.”
