Wild Lavender

by Nicole Elizabeth Kelleher

  The change in slope was so gradual she barely registered it. When she did, she opened her eyes to pitch black. Had her egress been sealed?

  Of course not, she remembered, for there would be no light until she climbed the stone ladder. She reached out with her hand to find its wooden rails. After scrambling up, her eyes detected a faint glow. All that remained was to crawl under the altar and out the hidden exit into the warmth of the candles. With her sword hand leading, she reached the opening.

  • • •

  They all saw the tip of the sword as it came out of the secret entrance. Its design was clearly the work of Nifolhad. When the helmeted head of a soldier poked out of the tunnel, Lark grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He was immediately aware that the man’s uniform was covered in blood. Lark drew his knife with one hand while the other clamped around the soldier’s neck, pinning him against the altar.

  “Where is she? Tell me now, and I’ll make your death quick.”

  Hands were grabbing him, and a few words cut through his fury. “Lady Anna…let her go!”

  Through the red haze of his rage, Lark fixed his eyes on the person closest to him, Will. The young man’s lips formed the words, “It’s her!”

  Lark stared at the soldier’s hands struggling to break the choking grip. Dread settled in his stomach as he discovered that they were not those of a man. They were infinitely more delicate. He dropped his knife and released her neck at the same time. He pulled the helmet off, and a mass of tangled curls fell around the smudged face. “Anna!”

  He could do nothing but support her while she choked, attempting to fill her lungs. “What have you done, Anna?” he yelled. “You’re covered in blood—are you injured?”

  She still had not looked at him. Her head hung down with her hair covering her face. “Not my blood,” she managed to croak.

  Hearing her cracked voice, his anger returned. “Damn it, Anna. I almost snapped your neck just now.” He could not bear knowing he’d come so close to killing her. When her identity had been revealed, his knife had already pierced her tunic and was poised to stab her heart even as his fingers squeezed her throat.

  She lifted her head. The fear in her eyes froze Lark to his soul. He’d been the cause of this terror. She would never see him the same way again. He saw the angry red welts on her neck. Averting his gaze from everyone else, Lark turned from Anna and left the chapel in long strides. Behind him, he heard her trying to call out his name. But his mind was reeling from what he had almost committed; he did not have the courage to face her.

  • • •

  At her feet lay his dagger. Grainne rushed to Anna’s side, and ordered her to sit so she could examine her. Anna protested, insisting she wasn’t injured.

  “Not injured!” Grainne shot back angrily. “Have you seen yourself?”

  The others were gaping at her. “It’s not my blood,” she told them. After no one spoke, she shouted, “It is not my blood!”

  Baldric raised his eyebrows. She could tell he was angry, but he held it in check. He was a practical man, and she knew he wanted to know if she’d been successful.

  Before he could ask, she gave him the answer he sought. “All ten machines, Baldric.”

  “We’ll meet in the council room in one hour,” he announced. “I want details. Grainne, will that give you enough time to assist your lady?” He looked at Anna ruefully. “Perhaps an hour and a half would be better. You smell horrible, Lady Anna.”

  Astounded into silence, Anna finally took note of her clothing. She was covered in every vile substance imaginable. Blood from the soldier, her own sweat and bile, urine from the guard who had almost discovered her, mud, grass, and something else she refused to put a name to.

  Baldric managed a tight smile. “Trian will escort you back to your chamber.” She knew he wanted to say more, perhaps assure her that Lark would come to his senses. But he said nothing and strode to the chapel doors. Tomas and Warin followed.

  Anna collected Lark’s dagger from the floor. Trian had moved forward to retrieve it, but her words stopped him cold. “I’ll return the knife myself, Trian. No one else.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five—Consequences

  Lark stalked up the stairs to the battlements. The men posted there gave him a wide berth. He stared out at the enemy, and his anger at Anna grew. He was furious that she’d been so reckless. He felt a steadying hand on his shoulder and knew it was Baldric.

  “You have a choice, my young friend,” Baldric counseled. “You can forgive Anna and move forward, or you can lose the most important person in your life.”

  “I have forgiven her, Baldric,” he muttered and hung his head. “I can’t forgive myself.” Lark looked down at the waiting mordemurs. “Did she reach them all?”

  “Every last one. We’re to meet in the council room to debrief.” Baldric’s brow was creased with worry. “She cannot help what fate has handed her, Lark.”

  “Just because she’s been trained to be a warrior doesn’t mean she has to be one.”

  “What you don’t understand, Lark, is that she is not the way she is because of her training. And unless you find a way to come to terms with this simple fact, I fear that you’ll never have a chance with her.”

  Baldric started to turn away, then stopped. “I do not think Lady Anna would want you to blame yourself, Lark. You couldn’t have known it was her. We all thought she was a soldier from Nifolhad. Even I didn’t suspect otherwise, not until I heard Grainne.”

  “You didn’t see her eyes when she looked at me, Baldric,” Lark said, allowing some of his anguish free. “There was so much fear.”

  “I may not have seen her eyes at that moment, Lark, but I saw them as you strode away. Her sorrow then was from knowing that she had put you in an impossible situation. You may be unable to imagine it, but right now, she needs you to forgive her and yourself,” Baldric added. He turned, leaving Lark to his thoughts.

  • • •

  Anna’s door opened, and a brigade of bucket carriers entered. Grainne caught her wry expression and backed away. “You really do reek, m’lady.”

  When the bath was full, everyone but Grainne departed. She helped Anna to strip out of the spoiled uniform and then out of her own clothes. Anna stepped gingerly into the hot bath, then sat and submerged her head. She came up for air and noticed that Grainne seemed to have something on her mind.

  “Out with it, Grainne,” she ordered as she scrubbed her face and neck.

  “Well, m’lady, I don’t know what you had to do to accomplish your deed”—she paused to inspect the bloody uniform in a heap on the floor—“but I have an idea.”

  “Do you?” Anna asked, allowing her temper to flare as she finished washing away the muck and gore from her skin and hair.

  “Aye, m’lady,” Grainne countered with equal fire. “And don’t you worry, I’ll get over being mad at you for not trusting me. But I only want to say one thing. If no one else tells you but me, you have to know this: we thank you. You were reckless. And, with all due respect, foolish. But so very brave. You probably saved us all.”

  “Oh,” was all that Anna could think to say. She stepped from the tub, and Grainne wrapped a thick rug around her as they walked to the couch.

  “Here, m’lady,” Grainne offered, her tone conciliatory. “I’ve made you some tea.”

  Anna took the cup from her friend. “Perhaps we are destined to save each other, Grainne.”

  “That we are, m’lady,” she agreed. “That we are.”

  • • •

  Once all were assembled in the hall, Baldric wasted no time getting things started. Anna was asked to relate her story. She did so, sparing little detail.

  “So you were able to sabotage the machines without being noticed,” Baldric finished.

  “Not quite,” Anna admitted. “I was noticed.” Baldric’s men shifted uneasily in their seats. “They thought I was one of their own. A soldier named John.” Anna quickly walked them through what came next.
How the two soldiers thought she, or rather John, was sick from drinking. She was able to make it back to the crypt unimpeded.

  “What happens when this John informs the others that it was not he they saw?” Baldric asked.

  “He won’t,” she told him, looking him straight in the eye.

  “Lord Baldric,” Cellach interjected. “It has been a difficult night for Lady Aubrianne. I believe she has answered all of your questions. Perhaps tomorrow—”

  “How does the entrance to the passage open?” Lark interrupted, speaking to her for the first time, but focusing on a point just beyond her. “I returned to the chapel, and there is no sign that the entrance exists now that it is closed. The ability to cross the river unseen could serve us well in the coming days.”

  “There is a release on the first step behind the altar,” she answered as if by rote. “Hidden within the carvings on the riser, you’ll find a rosette different from the others. In its center is a rectangle with two wavy lines underneath: the river and the crypt. Press the rosette to open the panel.”

  Cellach was first to rise, and he pulled out her chair as she rose from her seat. Lark stood and bowed to Lord Baldric. He hastened from the room, not sparing so much as a glance her way. Baldric walked over to her. The worry in his eyes matched that which she felt in her heart. Anna had broken more than the mordemurs this night.

  • • •

  Atop the battlements, Lark waited. He was sure that Anna would meet him here. There was much he wanted to say to her, starting with the remorse he felt for his actions. But then fear had wormed its way into his heart. He felt crippled by it. And that made him angry all over again.

  When she had walked into the council room, he saw the bruises on her neck and wanted to howl. Well, Lark decided, he was through with waiting. He pulled open the door that would take him back into the castle.

  He might have missed her if not for turning one last time to see the night sky. She must have come from the opposite direction, for there she stood, in the center of the tower’s roof, searching for him. He went to her.

  • • •

  Though Anna stood next to the man to whom she had given her heart, she felt completely alone. They were more alike than he would ever guess. Both could be lethal if required. She gasped then, and felt Lark tense.

  Her darker side shocked her, and Anna discovered that rather than despising this newfound power, her mind embraced it for its strength. She was no longer just a predetermined ideal in someone else’s eyes—not in her mother’s, nor Roger’s, and no, not even in Lark’s eyes. She could no more apologize to Lark any more than she could rewrite the past three years.

  If they were to have any future together, Anna determined, he would have to be the one to come to terms with her actions. Because if given a second chance, even knowing that she could lose him, she would choose again to save her people.

  She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “It’s who I am, Lark,” she stated, her voice still hoarse from his choking hold. “There was no other way.” Then she repeated more to herself than to him, “It is who I am.”

  Lark continued to stare out at the enemy. She set his dagger on the battlement’s merlon and spoke. “In the chapel, I was not afraid of you, Lark. I was afraid of who I had become.”

  “And who is that?” he finally asked, and it seemed to Anna that this was the one question for which he truly wanted an answer.

  “I’m Anna. The woman who has always loved you. I am the people of Stolweg and Chevring—their protector, their guide, their friend. And, I am you: a person who is willing to do anything to protect those he or she loves, even if it means killing another without thought or hesitation. I am Anna, Lark. I am not ashamed of who I am, just as you are not ashamed of who you are.”

  She’d said her piece and turned to walk away. Reaching to open the door, she heard Lark’s voice, and she stopped.

  “You already said that you weren’t injured, but are you all right?” he asked.

  She pondered his question. She thought once more about the soldier she’d slain. “No, Lark,” she admitted. “But I will be.” Before anything else could be said, she left. She would put aside thinking about Lark until later.

  Later. Anna’s heart cramped remembering the word they had used in play so oft before. Tomorrow was going to be a grueling day, and she had much to accomplish before the morn. If she were lucky, she might find an hour’s sleep.

  Chapter Fifty-Six—Terms

  Grainne woke earlier than usual the next morning. Climbing the stairs from the kitchen, she passed one of the windows. The leaden sky of the night before had yet to release its hold over the countryside. No rain, she thought. The low clouds were perfect for mourning; she only hoped the coming losses would not include her friends.

  When she entered Lady Anna’s chamber, Grainne wasn’t surprised to find her mistress awake, dressed and meticulously coiffed. She must have taken great pains to secure every tress, Grainne mused; not a single strand dared escape its tight braid.

  There was a keenness in Lady Anna’s gaze, as if she possessed the same restless energy that Grainne had noticed in the guards. Grainne longed for the raucous noise of the children and the merry company of Baldric. And the chamber lacked one other important guest: Lark.

  “Grainne, I need your help.” Her mistress opened the largest of her trunks.

  “Surely it is too cool for your summer gowns, m’lady,” Grainne observed. “Do you wish to change?”

  “No, Grainne. I’ll wear this today. But I require some accessories.”

  “Then let’s get started,” Grainne advised. “The sun’s rising, and they’ll want you in the courtyard presently. What do you need me to do?”

  Her lady removed the contents of the trunk, handing over the folded gowns one at a time. Grainne peered into the empty chest. Then Lady Anna pulled on a small leather strap hidden in the trunk’s depths, and Grainne gasped when a false bottom lifted.

  Lady Anna gave her an engaging grin. “It’s time you learned a little more about me, Grainne, and the line of women from whom I come.” Grainne stared with unbridled interest over the edge of the trunk. With reverence, her lady carried the first bundle to her bed.

  • • •

  Anna stood back, allowing her friend to admire the array of weapons and armor spread before them, each piece precisely sized for a woman. She instructed Grainne on how to attach cuisse and greave, pauldron and vambrace, until all that was left was the breastplate.

  Grainne lifted the light piece, set with silver stars and lapis lazuli, to Anna’s chest. But her maid was at a loss as to how to attach the armor and fumbled with the ties and buckles. There was a light rap on the door, and Grainne bade whoever it was to enter. She pinched her finger and let out an oath just as Cellach walked in, already suited up.

  Anna expected to see surprise on his face. Instead, he regarded her proudly, as if he knew she possessed such treasure all along. She threw him a pleading look, and he quickly took over.

  “Look here,” he pointed out to Grainne. “You have the backplate upside down. No wonder you could not match the ties.” Cellach made quick work of the last few straps. He stood back so that Anna could secure her dagger and sword belt around her waist.

  Finally, she slung her bow and quiver over her shoulder and secured her shield over them. She picked up her helmet and held it under her arm. Cellach nodded his approval.

  “Shall we go, then?” Anna prompted when her friends could do naught but stare at her. Cellach led the procession, with Grainne bringing up the rear. As they walked through the keep, she kept thoughts of Lark at bay.

  “Baldric and the guards are mounted, Lady Anna, and are waiting near the fountain,” Cellach provided. “Gilles has Tullian ready for you.” They took the back route to the stable, avoiding the crowds of the courtyard.

  “Good morning, m’lady,” Will greeted, then whistled when saw her armor. “Let me get Tully.” When he returned, holding Tullia
n’s lead, he walked to the center of the stable. Anna’s eyes fell upon her steed. For a moment, she didn’t breathe. Tullian was completely barded, muzzle to tail, in the most beautiful equine plating she’d ever beheld.

  “Oh, Tullian, you look magnificent! Who did this?” she exclaimed to her friends. They nodded at Cellach. “Of course it was you,” she said, clasping his hand and holding it tightly in hers. “Thank you, my friend.”

  “Will, a hand up for your lady, please,” Cellach ordered. So she placed her foot in Will’s laced fingers and, with a bounce, was vaulted into the saddle. Grainne held up her helmet, and Anna waited while Cellach mounted. He led the way to the courtyard. Tullian, sensing her excitement, lifted his legs high and pranced his way behind.

  • • •

  The courtyard was crowded with worried onlookers. Their attention was focused on Baldric and his guards, each suited in armor, their deadly weapons glistening. Then Baldric spotted Cellach, noting how the crowd opened a lane for him. They bowed low in respect as if he were Lord of Stolweg. Why should the arms master garner such deference? From his vantage, he could not see Anna riding behind. But then Baldric saw Lark glower, and finally, his own gaze fell upon her.

  She had focused her eyes straight ahead and held her chin high, her shoulders back, and her chest thrown out. Cellach moved his horse to the left and stopped in front of Lark. Lady Anna’s Tullian was dancing now, flipping his head up and down, his hooves pounding the ground. She drew up to Cellach’s right. Lord Baldric studied her before offering a good morning. He’d expected that she would be outfitted in such armor. And he couldn’t help thinking she looked more like a queen than a lady. He tilted his head in salute.