“A day to myself. What would I even do?” She sniffed and patted at her now sharpening eyes.
That was his window. “I suggest spending your time to share your beauty with the other WynSprigns. You should remind them that because of your service and devotion to me, you experience great things.” Grude looked at her with a changed expression. His gaze held unusual warmth, and perhaps something more.
She embraced him again. This time he steadied himself against her, a rock cliff against a crashing white tide.
Gilden came running toward them, his feet shuffling over the granite floor.
Cantata separated herself from Grude. She noticed the bonnet the Prondolin held out for her and crouched low to meet his shorter stature. Because putting the hat on by herself seemed unnecessary to her at that moment.
“Here we are…here we are,” the tailor said, nervously adjusting the white lace bonnet on top of her wild black hair. Ilgani then placed a small purple satchel made of lace on her extended wrist and shined flat shoes at her feet. The pair backed away. She stood slowly. A little awkward. The fabric rustled with her movement. She was careful to keep her head still and her feet firmly planted in the new shoes—shoes that the couple spirited from only Odan knew where.
“Stunning,” Grude said in complete honesty.
She looked magnificent, and the bonnet did wonders to hide the sections of her wild hair. She had, perhaps, even a regal appearance. It was now just as Grude said. She was the woman of the castle. She held her head high. She was made for this—these dresses, the higher esteem. She always knew she would fare better than the others. With her confidence and unbreakable attitude, and this, it was only further proof.
✽✽✽
Grude escorted Cantata to the throne room doors that led outside to the winding slope. Hot dusty air lashed, greeting the pair upon opening them. The expanse of dilapidated huts veiled by dust stretched far beyond. The first rows of WynSprign slave tents were scattered far down at the base. He held her gloved hand in his and noticed a slight trembling. He moved to hold on to the crook of her thin arm, and paused. He took in a thoughtful breath and with effort gently said, “Songbird, this is where I will part with you.”
She whirled a disbelieving gaze at him. “But Grudie! I thought you were going to make the stroll with me!” She wasn’t content to go walking about the WynSprign encampment without him, or their guards.
She opened her mouth to add to her protest but closed it. “I have a kingdom to manage and the warriors have only just returned. I have business with them. You, Cantata, you are needed by your people. Remember my tutelage; they need your encouragement and support. Let them know about the plans we discussed. Bring them cheer, like you normally do.” She shook her head a little, now seething. But he gave it no thought. “A performance. Think of this as a performance.”
She looked at him, a long stare. She detested the WynSprigns and having to deal with them without Grude. She puffed great agitation.
“Cantata, do this. Then, I will see more of you tonight.” A double meaning from a sly mouth and an equally sly hand that, in a swift move, slapped her bottom friskily.
She inhaled at this, choosing to acknowledge the obvious meaning behind all of it. Instead of reprimanding him like she considered she ought, she responded rather tersely, “Fine, Grudie.” She turned up her chin and stomped her way down the curling path, toward the WynSprign encampment. She didn’t mind his actions all that much. Dominating her mind more than that was the very idea of having to mingle with the WynSprings. “Ugh!” She growled out.
✽✽✽
She had no intention of meeting with these filthy commoners by herself, but with the new dress and additional confidence, they’d be receptive to her—Grude certainly had been. She now thought about what had just taken place inside. The alert heightened by the look he had just given her—what he just said—the tingling that still curved around her buttock with a promise of more for later. She’d never had anyone that looked at her like that before. She’d never undressed in front of anyone either. No matter how popular she had been, she knew of her humble appearance since her father reminded her constantly as a young child. No one had ever expressed an attraction to her. She didn’t mind it so much. She honestly accepted it. But, now—now with that look he gave. She felt flushed, or perhaps it was the heat from the day. She wasn’t certain.
The golden sun splashed the expanded surroundings below. The purple mountains stretched out, and the green splotches of copses of growth dotted between. She inhaled deeply; taking in the open air and making her way down and around to the base of the mountain, where the WynSprign encampment rested far below. Upon her descent, she noticed changes. She wasn’t the most informed castle inhabitant, but she knew enough to see that the number of guards seemed sparser and there were WynSprigns walking about. This was abnormal. They would have normally been in the mine by this time of day. She then remembered Grude’s plan, the free time he allowed them. She shrugged the thought away. It was just nice being out from the castle, in new clothes, and aiming to cheer up the WynSprigns—giving them a treat from their dirty, meager little lives. A performance, just for them.
She held her hand up to shield her eyes from the bright landscape and made a point to remember to task the Prondolin tailors for a parasol next. Her eyes sharpened and by fate, she noticed Lika and Trilla walking. Trilla! Her heart danced. She had been familiar with both of the women from their previous castle work but mostly Trilla, who had been her personal servant until the recent changes that had called her to the mine. It was lucky that she spotted them—perfect timing. Lika seemed to look in her direction but didn’t seem to notice her. She decided to pick up her pace at the descent; she wanted them to see her lovely dress. She minded her steps, quick and small in the un-stretchable material.
“Trilla! Lika!” she sang, while frantically waving at the two WynSprign slaves. They looked over at her curiously and again at one another. “Trilla, Lika! It’s me, Cantata!” She smiled, still waving at them. The movement felt tight about her back and shoulders. New fabric. Right, it had been long since she’d worn any. Blazes, this heat.
Trilla’s face perked with recognition, and Lika’s visibly soured.
“So good to see you two!” Cantata said, while only really looking to Trilla. It was true, Cantata sorely missed her personal servant, Trilla. She now had to complete a myriad of tasks on her own and without the golden-haired maiden’s assistance.
The two WynSprigns looked at her with disbelief and confusion. Lika, not one to hold back her thoughts or words, started them off. “Wow, Cantata, you’ve gotten a new dress I see.” Her gruff voice was more inquisitive than happy.
“Yes, Grude had this made for me.” She beamed and then twirled like a small girl.
The two eyed each another again. It was odd, having Cantata wanting to engage in conversation with them and they certainly didn’t know what think, with her twirling about. It was certain, however, that Trilla was obviously pleased.
“You say that Grude made that for you?” Trilla asked, trying for clarity.
“Yes! Well, no, the designers from Prondolin made it.” She held her hand low to indicate their short stature, and Lika had to keep from rolling her eyes. “The best ones, of course.” She paused. “So, how have things been—” she gulped and flung her gloved hand out, “here?” As slaves? In a filthy encampment? she rightfully chose not to add.
“Well, actually, things are...okay. Grude has reduced the number of Mysra guards to watch over us, and we have some time off during the week now.” Trilla smiled cheerfully at these changes Grude planned.
“Oh, that is great news!” Though Cantata’s tone sounded like she couldn’t give a shit. She squinted. This damned sun is obscenely hot. She tried to remain content though. Being a part of Grude’s most trusted circle, she knew the real reason for the decrease in guard population and that Grude was already working to request more young, healthy Mysra to be sent to him from his mysterious sour
ce. He didn’t talk in detail about that though; about how he had an endless reserve of Mysra warriors hidden somewhere. Close or not, there were some things that the Mysra ruler wasn’t going to share with anyone—not even his songbird. He called me his songbird. A smile quirked the corner of Cantata’s mouth.
“I still think he’s up to something,” Lika chimed dryly, thus breaking whatever image was flitting about in Cantata’s mind. Trilla shot Lika a disapproving glance.
Cantata, taken back, darted in, “Well! I will have you both know that Grude is actually quite kind. I’ve gotten to know him well these years.” And even more so these past days, she considered saying.
Eyebrows lifted.
Lika shrugged and added, “Well, I’d like to ask questions. For example: Why all of a sudden are there fewer guards wandering about? And furthermore, why has he allowed us more freedom? And don’t give me that ‘because he’s lessened the guard patrol nonsense’.” She glared at Trilla—who delivered her own glare right back. It became obvious the two WynSprigns had a dispute about this topic already, but she continued, “We’re still slaves, but he has allowed us some give all of a sudden—now why’s that?” Lika challenged, placing a hand on her hip. Her face crinkled from the blazing sun now overhead and deep wrinkles feathered from the corners of her eyes.
“Well, perhaps it’s because…” Cantata thought for a moment. “He and I are on friendly terms, and he felt bad about how ill my people had been kept.” By his own hand—she most certainly wouldn’t say. “Once he understood how dreadful things had been...he decided to make things better. The Mysra, they’re used to other standards of living and are heartier by design.” She smiled thinking of his face when she turned to face him earlier. Heartier...stronger.
At their silence, Cantata stiffened, bringing herself back from that memory and the added heat it brought. “And Lanico never came back for us, and now at least things are getting better. Especially now that I’m in there!” She pointed to the castle that towered over them. “Because I’m in there and I’m friends with Grude, things will only get better for us from now on. That, ladies, is a promise.” One that she truly believed. She then gave a satisfied smile. “I have convinced Grude to make changes and he’s listened. Your leisure time is now the result of that.” Ungrateful old wench that Lika—she really should be thanking me.
Lika still had doubts. It had been true that Lanico never came back, but she remembered very well what chaos existed in those days following the Great Divide. Everyone experienced great loss and tragedy. Lanico lost his father the King, his right hand-Lieutenant General Izra, and his kingdom in one fell swoop. Their army was overwhelmed by the surprise attack and the Mysras greatly outnumbered them. Not many of the WynSprign had ill feelings over what happened. Lika believed that he tried. He must have tried. The senescent castle servant and laundress also rightly figured Cantata was now a part of Grude’s plan. Cantata wasn’t on their side—had never been on their side, and Trilla was just too young and gullible to see this. In that moment, Lika made a decision to keep her mouth shut and remain passive at this nonsense. She’d play along, for now—though the flair of her rosy-cheek anger wasn’t something she could as easily hide.
Trilla, being ever devoted to Cantata, chimed, “Well, I think this is lovely. Perhaps we can experience more changes in the days to come?”
Cantata inhaled and beamed. “Well, yes. Yes, I’d expect so. Grude seems to be in a great mood these days. Perhaps, Trilla, you could return to the castle again, and assist me like you used to.” Cantata’s eyebrows raised in question, waiting.
“Oh yes, that’d be—” Trilla inhaled her answer. “That’d be so very great!” Her hand fluttered over her face, fanning it. She’d prefer to stay near the famed WynSprign. It was an honor in itself in having served her, and perhaps to do it again...wow.
“Well, we’d better be off. We’ll have our meal soon enough and we don’t want to miss it.” Lika’s twisted, arthritic fingers grabbed Trilla gently by the arm to guide her away. “Take care, Cantata!” Lika called out with her strong voice and poor enunciation. She was aged, but physically ever as strong as an ox, and a disposition that matched her strength.
“Bye!” Cantata’s gloved hand made a small ladylike wave.
Trilla, with her arm still corralled by Lika, turned her smiling face back toward Cantata.
With a renewed sense of energy, Cantata didn’t want to end her display there. She continued to walk about the encampment raising gasps and praises from most all of the slaves with almost every step she placed. She understood that it must have been a treat to have her presence there. When enough WynSprigns gathered around her, she’d begin to discuss her life in the castle, mostly trying to add in the positive changes Grude was making—in conjunction with the most recent reduced work hours and decrease of guards.
Grude had explained to her that just because there were less of them, it didn’t mean they wouldn’t punish a WynSprign for attempting an escape. In fact, they were to be even more brutal at punishments and any easygoing guard would be denied his or her share of trillium. That was a severe punishment for a Mysra indeed. For they hungered and craved the mineral almost always it seemed.
After a day spent walking among her people, she passed the guards and the open throne room doors. Grude was waiting for her at the entrance with a smile and a goblet of chilled wine.
He had that look again.
Cantata immediately felt her pulse quicken.
Chapter 11
Fetid water beast
Morning came too soon for all who rested in the Fray’s home. Training for everyone had lasted entire days and ran well into the evenings. Like his Knights of past, Lanico ensured they ate well last night and bedded immediately. Though his mind had been heavy these past nights with concerns over the challenges ahead of them all, he sprang up with the same energy as he had almost every other morning. For all of them sleep was not found easily last night. Anxiety hung like a thick cloud, blanketing thoughts of imagined worry over all of them. Despite the lack of sleep, he knew well, a mission needed to be done.
By the time everyone woke, Lanico had already made certain that all supplies were packed. Everything was setup in the sitting room ready to go—small organized mounds assigned to each of them, in the middle of the room. He lumbered out from the room he shared with the males. His search for his cloak was over, as it was now draped over his arm. He paused, finding Treva awake and checking over all the supplies. She was kneeling and surveying his work, everything perfectly prepared. Lanico watched her silently. He knew she was trying to keep busy—trying to keep her mind busy. He packed everything to perfection, After all.
She felt his gaze roaming over her. Her eyes fluttered up to meet his.
“Good morning, Tre.” His voice was quiet. He stood in the doorway bracing a sculpted forearm against the frame. His other still holding the emerald cloak.
“Morning, Lan.” She inhaled, holding back words of worry, of second-guessing.
He straightened and came near slowly. His gaze scanning, knowing. “You’re worried.”
“No, I…” She exhaled sharply, and then spoke low. There’d be no point in lying when he could read her as plainly as a book. “They’re so young—”
“Tre,” he interjected knowing her concerns perfectly, “we trained them. We’re the best in Odana and the Soldiers of old were the same ages. Remember how young they were—how young you were when you joined? They will be fine.” He was sincere in his tone and in his words. He crouched low next to her. It was reminiscent of their last time on this floor, when he healed her. “They’ll be safe. Remember, their mission—it won’t take long, and we’ll be very near.”
She worried her lip and nodded, though her head fought against that betraying movement. They were young, but so was Treva when she joined the Odana Army. So was Lanico when he was trained and hauled off into battle countless times. It needed to be done in order to secure information. It was possible
that shifts, positions, rotations could have all been changed based on Anah’s escape, and they needed to know this information. Her eyes were now fixed on the supplies on the floor, thinking.
He tossed his cloak to the side, stabled himself on his knees so that he could lean into her, slowly reaching her gaze. Reaching for that other level of communication that only they shared. Her eyes met his. A half smile crooked the edge her mouth and he placed a light kiss on her forehead, leashing the desire to do anything more. Not just yet. She closed her eyes at the warmth, the softness of his lips brushing her brow. It was to seal in the memory. It was only a brief romantic gift to cling to. A promise of more. “After.”
With disinclination, he stood to set off waking the others. He sighed, pausing to look back at her. They both knew it was to be a long, laborious day of venturing toward the mountain pass. The horses couldn’t be used for this part of the journey. Greta was to keep them in her care for now.
✽✽✽
They had eaten heartily to ensure that they had enough food in their bellies for the travel ahead and to make the rations last for as long as they could. It wasn’t easy saying goodbye to Greta, or to the warmth and safety of her enchanted home.
The Legacy of Lanico: Return of the Son: Book two of the Legacy of Lanico series Page 10
