Best regards and thoughts,
Duke Lorin of Novrecourte, esq.
***
It was in the salon, resting gently on the destruction of the room, pristine white in a way that made Vanita notice it immediately amidst the plaster and rubble.
The letter from the duke.
She sat next to it now, on the battered chaise lounge, and cried into one hand.
Thirty days. Maybe more.
And no soldiers had arrived. They were most likely dead before the pretty white paper had even touched the ground. All their hope of safety, all the royals could spare, lying gutted somewhere on the open road.
She let the tears flow down, cupping the cheek and remaining eye and in her palm. Her mother was still upstairs. She would not hear. Vanita could let at least some of the anxious fear and bitter surprise out in stunted, muffled sobs that left her gasping.
What would she do for thirty days while they waited, trying to survive? What could she do? Suddenly, the facts of their situation stood out plainly with blinding, brutal clarity: the house’s front was open, offering free access for any other mob. The carrior bird that had destroyed it was completely gone, taken in pieces by the surviving men. There was presumably most of a giant Expansion pumpkin still around somewhere, but they may have taken that too. She and her mother were certainly no warriors and, with an “indefensible house” that they had no idea how to “defend’, they would be easy pickings for anyone with less than noble intentions. In fact, the same marauders who had survived and made off with the bird might well have gone to tell all their marauder friends of the great opportunity. They may even be on their way back now.
These were not comforting thoughts, but for the first time in days Vanita felt truly awake. It took her some time, but she eventually managed to get a somewhat working pen from the closed-up study of her long-dead father. Then she sat down at the letter again and tore a piece of it off. She clumsily began writing again for the first time in two years:
Things Ash did to keep us alive:
- Brought water, fetched empty cups and saucers
- Made and brought the food
- Helped me dress
- Hunted for meat and other things for us to eat
- Protected us from mobs and robbers
- Helped Old Merta in the kitchens
- Cleaned, somewhat, Tansy helped
- Breathing exercises when my chest hurt Things I must now do:
- Discover how to fetch water, bring Mother and I water regularly
- Make and bring food somehow, using the pumpkin
- Dress and bathe myself and Mother
- Close up the front of the house from robbers, or some equivalent
- Not allowed to have chest pains, must endeavour to breathe properly No one to help now.
There. It was not an exhaustive list, but it was a start. Had she forgotten anything. Probably. What did one need to survive? All that Ash had done for them, seemingly effortlessly, each day - Vanita didn’t know the first thing about any of it. Some seemed so ridiculous that if she weren’t so weak she would laugh – hunting, for instance, was something even Ash did not do without a man with her. Imagine Vanita hunting! She chortled drily, and began her second effort of writing on the rest of the torn-up parchment:
Dear Duke,
Understood. I am alive as my mother is with me. We are of course distressed but at this point are in no imminent danger.
Please, please come as soon as you can. No guards nor soldiers have arrived and it has been more than a day since the coach left.
… But thank you for letting us know.
I sign my full name to confirm it is me:
Lady Vanita Jadene Cerentola of House Rhodopalais
They were brave words that she didn’t feel. Looking up at the broken open remains of her previously dignified home, she was horrified at the sudden urge to laugh. It must look from the outside like one of those doll’s houses that were such expensive gifts before the Project. A prim little mansion with the whole front blown wide open for everyone to see the little lady inside, presiding over the shattered remains.
But that time was over, she knew that now.
Chapter Two
Royal Weapons Experts
Miles away, there was nothing shattered left. The horseless coach trundled along as peaceably as a woman on the way to market, belying all the horror of before.
Ash looked around for the thousandth time at the pink velvet surrounding her like a lung. It was strange to be in this small, near-silent world clicking along, when just hours before the world had been the broken bodies of the mob who had tried to kill her and her family, before the bird had crashed through their home. Ash thought about her stepsister, her sister, and immediately tried to think of something else. They would go for her soon, she told the clenching in her chest. Rize had promised it and, more importantly, so had she.
The air in the pink cage was stultifying. Ash would have been happy to never see the inside of a carriage again, yet here she was staring at cushioned walls once more. Had anyone outside the palace ever been in one so often in so few days?
“It is extremely fortunate that today of all days we rode for you, as the carriage followed us, since it’s moving day,” Rize had said earlier. She had not really listened at the time, her head still singing with the clamour of battle and bird as the remains of her family home lay scattered around her. Now, she wondered at the words – moving day? But she said nothing as the scenery trundled by. The interior of any carriage, however pink or however royal, still held the memory of her sister lying bleeding on the floor. Her sister. She shook the thought out of her head and looked at the flat landscape again instead.
Sometime later, she did not know when, Derrick broke the silence.
“How far is it still by carriage?”
Ash turned her head to see the prince and Derrick staring at one another, with Rize’s cousin the duke appearing far more comfortable as he lounged at his own window, a slim ankle resting on one knee.
“We are not too far off, I think. A few hours at most and in the gates safely just at sunset,” said Rize.
Ash and Derrick looked at each other. Sunset? It seemed far longer than their hazardous journeys across the wasteland plains. Perhaps the coach was setting a statelier pace than they thought.
“Are you comfortable?”
This time, the prince looked directly at Ash, a small smile on his face. And with Derrick looking on too. Ash smiled back weakly.
“Yes, thank you.
“Because if there is anything I can do –”
A loud, fairly un-noble cough came from Derrick, who was trying in vain to look unimpressed by the carriage. “So, what is it Ash and I are to do, then? As these “royal weapons experts” of yours?” “Well, we aren’t quite sure yet. It will be a new position, created just for you. But I would assume that a start would be to bring you onto the war council, which meets every –”
“And how do we know we will be well treated, pray tell?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Derrick. Leave it be. It’s a palace, not a brothel. You’ve been there, why are you acting like you’re being sold for a penny?”
An audible silence descended on the carriage which Ash did not quite understand. For the first time, both Rize and the duke looked actually uncomfortable.
“What is it?”
“Well… The thing is… we’re not going to the palace.”
Chapter Three
Play the game
“Stop this coach.”
“It can’t be stopped. It’s magicked.”
“I said stop it!”
Ash’s voice sounded thin and childlike even in her own ears. As though she were or a spoilt noble brat having a tantrum. Not like someone who had just abandoned their entire family.
“Ash, what is it? I said that we would –”
“It’s her sister, you idiot!” Derrick was bellowing even louder than she was. “Her only sister
has been left alone there with those birds and that mob, what’s left of them, still out there. Don’t you understand?”
“But we are going back for her soon. I don’t see what the problem is.”
At last, Ash found her voice again. “When is “soon’, Rize?”
“The very next changing of castles, I swear it to you.”
“And you don’t see what the problem is? Pray tell, when was the last time either of you two ever did anything without help from a servant or soldier? Anything. The servants at my home are all dead, my father is dead, there is no one else but me. No one to protect me. Just like everyone else.”
“Ash!” the prince looked panicked, and so did the duke. They were each glancing at each other nervously. “Why did you not tell us your servants were all gone? If I had known…”
Ash silenced him with an angry look. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of justifying himself. “Of course they are all dead. Everyone who is not a prince is either already dead or dead soon. That’s how life outside a palace is. And now you have tricked me into leaving my sister for dead. She can’t hunt, or boil water so it’s fit for drinking. She’s never even dressed herself without help before. And now I – I have left her…”
Her voice cracked, sounding childish once more. She refused to have this conversation surrounded by pink velvet, so close to her face that she couldn’t breathe.
“Stop the coach,” she said again quietly. “Stop it so I can get out or I will get out regardless.” “The Pathfinders magick the coaches. Every month, on one day at random, the royals move residences, designed to be random to make it difficult for marauders. Only the Pathfinders know when and where – not even the king or prince have a say.”
Ash threw the prince a scornful glance. At least he looked stricken and truly upset. Rize had looked so handsome this morning. Now his royal trappings and clean, pressed clothes were an affront to her. Without another word she turned the handle and opened the door, jumping from the still-moving coach.
The duke’s horse had been following them from a distance since they left Rhodopalais, and it started when Ash thumped to the ground, almost catching her footing but at the last moment overbalancing and thumping hard into the dust. Still, it came over to her obediently enough when she recovered and stood, clicking her tongue gently and holding out her hand.
“Here boy, here…”
Thank goodness it hadn’t been eaten by a carrior yet. In fact, there weren’t even any in the sky. A queasy feeling dropped like a rock into Ash’s stomach. Perhaps they were all feasting off the dead at Rhodopalais. Ten or more carriors, greedy with fresh corpse meat, and her defenceless sister in the midst of them all…
“Come on boy.” The horse was reacting to her fear and bucking when she tried to mount it. Ash tried for slow breaths, calming thoughts, until the horse stilled. She was no use to Vanita or anyone flapping like a milkmaid. Finally, she was able to get up, and back in a saddle she found her thoughts returning with more sense.
She could always turn the horse around, and head back to save Vanita. But then what? The horse did not have space for three, and Vanita and her stepmother were still there. She could not leave her stepmother to die, but if she put the two of them on the horse, they wouldn’t know the way to this new castle. In fact, neither did she. Derrick could not turn around the coach thanks to the
Pathfinders” infernal magick, and if she left for Rhodopalais, what would they do to Derrick? Nothing, she hoped, but if they needed her and Derrick’s skills with iron weaponry as she suspected they did, then what would they not do? He would be a hostage, and he had no noble family, no rights…
“Ash!”
Rize was leaning halfway out of the coach window like a lovesick maiden, calling her.
“Don’t listen to him Ash!” Derrick’s tawny head popped out the other window.
Good grief. Ash wanted to sigh and roll her eyes, but before she quite knew what was happening, there was a flash of black hair and movement, and she had to pull up the horse. Rize was lying in a royal puddle in the dirt. She had almost ridden over the crown prince.
“Rize!”
“I’m sorry,” he panted, “but I just had to get out of there. I feel terrible, and I can’t sit there in a carriage while you are out here on horseback. It’s not right…” He peered up into her eyes, still breathing heavily.
“Look, we will hatch a plan between ourselves to steal away some of the horses; just as soon as they have rested and we have introduced you to the council and started. I promise you. Please Ash, I was stupid. I didn’t think… forgive me.”
Her throat closed up with emotion, and she turned her head away, back in the direction she imagined lay her old home, and Vanita.
“…Or, at least, please give me a ride to the castle?”
“Oh alright. Climb on.”
True to his word, the prince pointed to the horizon just as the sky was beginning to blush with the first pinkening signs of dusk. Ash could make out the shape of a castle almost straight ahead of them. Perhaps it was because of her last soiree with royalty, but to Ash it looked distinctly squatter and sturdier than the palace.
“Ash?”
This time it was the duke craning his sandy-coloured head out of the carriage. “Ash, can you come back inside the carriage? I’m afraid it won’t stop. You’ll need to jump in. Please, it’s important.”
“Do you know, I am really beginning to hate coaches.”
After she was safely back in the carriage after yet another ridiculous jumping experience, Ash turned to find the duke looking uncharacteristically serious. She and Derrick exchanged glances.
“Sorry about that, but really, it couldn’t wait. We are almost at Castle Blindé, and I needed to talk to you both before we get there.
“At the looks on your faces when we spoke about the castle, I realised something that should have been obvious to me. You don’t know how it works, how to play the game.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I call it “the game” but it’s really quite serious. At court, even now, everything is about appearances and procedure. What lies beneath the surface of people, their appearance, is only accepted and more importantly protected if you look the part and play the part well.
“Rize is no use with this, and he likely never even mentioned it. That’s because he was born heir to the kingdom and has stayed that way. He’s young, strong, educated and charming, but all of that is of little importance compared to the fact that he’s heir. He doesn’t need to play the game, he was the one born with the royal flush. But you two, you will need to play, and play well.”
“Listen here, Duke. We are not coming to the palace to be simpering courtiers. We have a job to do. We don’t want to be a part of your court - ”
“First off, it’s not my court, it’s Rize’s and his father’s, and the fact that he likes you so much already puts you in danger. Secondly, I’ve lived at court my whole life and I know what I’m talking about.”
They were fast approaching the castle now. She could make out the thick walls and battlements of stone. “Go on,” Ash said before Derrick could speak.
“Let me use an example. It was not an accident that I called you into the carriage. First rule of court: there are always at least two reasons anyone says or does anything, often more. Do not be content with looking at just one. My one reason for calling you into the carriage is this: appearance is everything, the way things are done is all people have left. To approach the castle with the crown prince on the back of your horse like some tavern wench, while I help Derrick down like some maid, would not have garnered you any favour. This way, Rize is seen as the hero riding, bravely, without cover from the carriors. You arrive with station, with trappings of wealth, whether they are yours or not. Each gets what they need from the public’s eyes.”
“Trappings of wealth? Did you get hit on the head? What trappings of wealth?” “I’ll get to that.”
A
sh tried to swallow, but found that suddenly her throat was dry. They were crossing the drawbridge now, the portcullis opened wide like rusted iron teeth, the castle ready to swallow them whole. Ash tried not to stare and listen instead to what the duke was still saying.
“If you two want to survive here, listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you next.”
***
A quarter of an hour later Ash stood, deep in thought, beside a fireplace. “It is only a hidden servants’ chamber that was close enough to be convenient,” the duke had said. But she was thinking about the other things he had said.
“Tighter, Miss?”
“Tighter.”
The bodice was a brocade of sky blue that fit well enough when corseted a bit closer to the body, and the pearls at her neck were real without looking obscenely wealthy. Yet they felt tight to Ash. Constricting.
“You will need to look the part,” the duke had said, “for what fool would waste the time to listen to someone after their own eyes judged that person to be of no consequence? The dress was my lady mother’s and quick enough to obtain in a hurry. You are to be a person of influence here, Ash, and so you must look like one first.”
“Are the men ready? The, uh, the sirs in the adjoining chamber?”
“Ready Miss.”
“Right then. We shall go.”
Ash walked out at the same time as the three men, who bowed to her solemnly. Somehow, it made her nervous seeing them standing there, freshly dressed and grim-faced, especially Derrick in his borrowed clothes.
As they stepped onto the adjoining colonnade, Ash could not help but compare the dank grey stone of the castle with the limestone walls of the palace. When she had arrived there for the first day of the ball, the building had seemed made out of solid starlight, gleaming whitely beneath its candles.
Ashes Slowly Fall Page 2
