Cassandra glanced beside him. Her gaze met Matthew's as he stared at her, his eyes filled with wonder as he studied her. She turned back to Thomas. “I do.”
Thomas hugged her close again, a pained look emerging across his face. He did not want to hurt this little girl, to end any dream she may have ever had for her future. However, it was, he reminded himself, for his own son's well-being.
“There,” Thomas announced, “They have taken their vows. Joseph, take the three of them to the kitchen and have Cook find them something sweet to eat.”
Cassandra returned to Victor's side, taking his hand. Surprised, she turned as she felt her other hand taken captive, finding Matthew there holding it tight. They both followed as Victor led them after Joseph.
Not long after the ceremony, Cassandra and Malicar left the palace for their journey home. The walk was a quiet one as was their supper and their evening together in Malicar’s castle. Cassandra loved her grandfather very much but enjoyed the noise and laughter of the palace more.
The next morning, Cassandra sat in the garden, gently rubbing her tired eyes. Malicar had rustled her out of bed before daybreak. She touched the gift hanging from her neck he had given her before they left for the palace. She examined her training stone—a blood red gem encased in a gold locket with mystical lettering that hung from a gold chain. She laughed excitedly. It’s going to help me learn sorcery.
Looking up to the gate, Cassandra found a giant gray wolfhound. His coal black eyes stared at her. She sat quietly as the dog slowly wandered over to her. As he approached, she giggled and threw her arms around his fuzzy neck. “Oh, Grandfather!” she laughed.
The wolfhound nuzzled his nose lovingly against her stomach, causing her to laugh harder. She clasped his hairy muzzle in her small hands. “Be careful. Please, Grandfather?”
The canine licked her face affectionately then nudged her to her feet. She walked next to him to the entrance door of the palace, finding Thomas and Edgar waiting in full combat armor. Matthew and Victor stood on the steps watching silently for the army to depart.
Cassandra kissed the hound once more then climbed the steps until she found her place beside the boys. Thomas gazed at the three of them. “Take care of each other. Matthew and Victor, look out for Cassandra. Behave and listen to Joseph and Cook. We will return soon. Malicar, are you ready?”
The dog cocked his head to the sky and followed next to Thomas's horse. The three children looked on as they disappeared behind the palace wall.
Cassandra and Matthew followed Victor as he ran through the garden to the gate at the opposite side. He struggled to get the rusted lock free before motioning them through as he ran across the field to a towering ancient oak tree on top of a hill. The army slowly wound around the palace wall and past the hill as they marched east into the forest. They remained under the tree until the last man disappeared.
Afterwards, Cassandra lay back in the lush green grass, sighing at the softness against her body. The boys sat in morose silence, each of them watching the now empty hill with expressions of dread and apprehension. After a while, Victor whispered, “Now what?”
There were several moments of further silence until Cassandra spoke. “That cloud. It looks like a pig.”
Victor scanned the sky in the direction she pointed. He grunted, “I don’t see anything.”
Cassandra turned her head as she heard Matthew laugh. “I do. I see him. And look, that one is a snake.”
She giggled, nodding at his discovery. Matthew settled down in the grass next to her as he found a cat, a mouse, and a large pot. He searched as she pointed to a bird, a dragon, and the face of a witch.
She watched Matthew’s brow furrow as he scanned the snow-white clouds, intently searching vainly to find more objects. He jumped, startled, as she nestled her head against his shoulder and met his awestruck stare. She returned his shy smile with one of her own before he turned his attention back to the sky.
Cassandra glanced back to Victor, cringing at the furious glare in the blond boy’s eyes. I have never seen Victor that angry. What could be bothering him? She looked back to Matthew, seeing his eyes locked with Victor’s. Victor hates being left out. He likes to be in control. He’s not jealous of us…is he?
Cassandra’s eyes followed Matthew’s gaze as he looked back to the vast blue expanse. He pointed. “Look, a fish!”
* * * *
Thomas quietly pushed open the palace door. It was well after midnight, and he knew everyone would be asleep. His heart warmed to be home. He had missed Matthew every minute. He thought it strange that he had also worried about Cassandra, concerned about her adjustment to her new life. Pausing in his stride, he looked at the wolfhound behind him. By the relief in the dog's black eyes, he knew Malicar had felt the same.
Thomas turned his back to the dog as he removed his gloves and then his sword. By the sudden glow in the room, the king could tell his friend had reverted to his human state. “Shall we find the children, Malicar?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
Just then, Cook rushed through the dining room door, wrapping her robe around herself as she scuttled across the floor. “Your majesty, you’re home.”
“Yes, Cook. Where are the children?”
Cook released a joyous chuckle from deep inside her large frame. “Follow me.” She led Thomas and Malicar to the library door, noiselessly pushing it open. Inside, a fire raged in the fireplace. In its golden glow, the silhouettes of Victor, Matthew, and Cassandra lay sleeping on the cushions thrown on the floor. They hugged each other tight as the echoes of their afternoon play whispered in the sighs of their sleep.
Thomas shared a look with Malicar. The older man smiled. “I think I will journey home. I will see her in the morning.” Closing the door quietly, they let the children sleep. Thomas followed his advisor to the front door. Bowing low, a flash of light suddenly consumed Malicar. In his place was a gray eagle. The bird spread its wings and took flight from the top step. Thomas watched silently as it flew away.
The next four months flew by quickly. Thomas felt as if he were never home. Being on the battlefield, struggling to keep his people safe, wore him down and made him despondent. He knew he wasn’t alone in the way he felt. There were several moments he noticed Malicar’s ancient mind wandering, most likely wondering about Cassandra. Although she was a new addition to his life, the quiet sorcerer cared deeply for his granddaughter.
Thomas sighed. The old man wasn’t alone. Thomas worried about her also, nearly as much as he worried about Matthew.
Both men were relieved when the blessed moment came that they returned to the palace well past midnight. However, being home did not change Thomas’s sullen heart. There was still a war to be won. There were vicious rebels still to conquer.
The next morning after breakfast in the Great Hall with the three very lively children, Thomas stormed to the throne room. The battle was still fresh in his mind, so he wasted no time to plot his next strategy. Striding into the small chamber beside the throne room, he glared sternly at the courtiers, “I want no interruptions. None.”
Thomas closed the door then unrolled a clean sheet of parchment and pinned it to the worn piece of plank that leaned against the wall where the men kept their war tactics. Edgar and Malicar stepped next to him, quietly joining in a discussion.
They turned in surprise as the door flew open. Cassandra scrambled past the furious courtiers into the dark room. She bowed awkwardly before gushing, “Your majesty, come see what I can do.”
Thomas laughed, motioning away the growing crowd and taking her hand. Edgar touched his arm in objection. “The battle plans, Thomas.”
“They are not going anywhere, Edgar, and I will only be a moment.”
He followed Cassandra to the garden and sat on one of the stone benches nestled among the flowers and trees. She stood before him and held her breath as she pressed her palms together. As she pulled them apart, a butterfly with pale pink iridescent wings flutter
ed against her fingers and flew away. Her magical pendant, softly swaying from her neck, burned as brightly as the glitter in her eyes.
Thomas smiled as she beamed in pride. “So is my garden going to be full of butterflies?”
Cassandra giggled as the king captured her hand. “Now I see you have been studying your grandfather's lesson,” he continued. “What of Tutor's lessons? Will you read me a story after my meeting?”
Following him into the palace, Cassandra nodded. She bowed meekly before running off, presumably to the library to find a book.
Thomas watched her go then turned to find Malicar waiting for him in the entrance hall. “A word, your majesty,” he requested.
Thomas sighed. “I know, Malicar. I understand your concern. But when Anna was pregnant, I wished for a daughter. I wanted a son, yes, to carry on the crown, but I thought someday I would have a daughter. Then I lost Anna, and my hope died with her.
Suddenly there is a little girl in my home and, although I need her to protect Matthew when he becomes king, my hope came alive again. I am sorry—she is your granddaughter. But the four months she has been here have been wonderful. I have a boy…and a girl. And I am beginning to love her as much as I love Matthew.”
Malicar stared at him emotionless for a moment before a sympathetic smile spread slowly across his face. “I understand, my lord. I am pleased she has so many that care for her.”
“Thank you, Malicar. Shall we get back to work?” Thomas opened the door to the throne room and held it as Malicar passed through. Then, he closed the door behind him as he followed.
* * * *
Cassandra sat cross-legged on a bench in the garden, clasping her hands closed before opening them again to release butterflies, one after the other—first blue, then pink, then lavender. She glanced up, watching as Victor and Matthew engaged in a mock swordfight with sticks.
“Who is Gorgon?” she asked. The boys stopped their play suddenly as they turned to stare at her.
“How do you know about Gorgon?” Victor asked quietly.
“He stole my parents' grain.” Her voice trailed off. It had been months since her parents' death. It all seemed like a dream, one fading away into her memory.
It had been like any other night. Papa had just come in from the field. He sat in his chair beside the fire, his eyes drifting closed in sleep. Mama laughed softly as she finished chopping the apples Cassandra had gathered from the tiny orchard behind their cottage. The apples would make a delicious treat with the stew Mama had prepared. Cassandra sat on the floor near Papa’s chair, stroking her rag doll’s hair with her fingers.
Papa started awake at the sounds of loud voices and screams echoing from the village. He glanced out the door then spun at Mama and Cassandra, ordering them upstairs as he grabbed the pitchfork leaning outside the door.
It was too late. A swarm of black invaded the tiny house, destroying everything in their path. Cassandra whimpered as a very large man, nearly twice the size of Papa, ran a sword through him. Another man grabbed Mama’s arm, leering at her. Mama fought back, overturning a pot of boiling water in his face.
Mama fell to the floor, dead. Cassandra scuttled into the corner, fighting her sobs as she stared at the bodies of her parents.
“It’s not a complete loss, men. Seems we have a little filly here for us to take,” the first man laughed.
She was pulled to her feet. Before the man could lift her into his arms, she caught the sight of Papa struggling to rise. He grabbed a plank of wood from next to the fireplace. She heard him breathe, “Forgive me, Cassa,” before he swung. She saw the plank sweep near her head. She didn’t remember anything else.
Cassandra shook the memories from her mind as she heard Victor speak.
“He was the commander of the army before Edgar,” Victor explained. “During a battle with Porvo, the kingdom to the south, he pulled out of the conflict with a portion of the troops, leaving King Thomas to lead the army alone. Then Gorgon began attacking the villages in Savon, stealing grain and beating villagers. That is why they go to battle.”
Cassandra took a deep breath. She felt her heart ache, suddenly missing her father and mother. She pressed her hands together and opened them, creating a bubble before absentmindedly blowing it away.
Chapter Two
Cassandra slipped into the entrance room of the palace, pushing the large oak doors shut behind her. She had flown there that morning, beating her dove wings on the currents of wind that whispered against the beams of sunrise. Upon landing in the garden, her soft feathers had melted into her ivory flesh.
Cassandra stared at her reflection in the mirror as a deep breath escaped her lips. She was no longer a child of eight, but a young woman of fourteen. She had come to the palace every day for six years, taking her lessons with Matthew and Victor in the morning then spending her afternoons learning spells, incantations, and transformations. The knowledge her grandfather urged her to learn overwhelmed her.
Cassandra studied her image, scrutinizing the changes in her body. She arched her spine, paying particular attention to her rose-tinted cheeks, her long, thin neck…her blossoming breasts. The tremor in her stomach distracted her, and she continued her way through the halls to the kitchen.
Cassandra scooped a bowl into her hands and shoveled fresh porridge into it. Sipping the gruel from a spoon, she reveled in the feeling of the warm food in her stomach. She sat gingerly next to the fireplace to eat her breakfast.
“My lady,” Cook addressed, as she rushed into the kitchen. Cassandra rose as if by command, smiling at the older woman. Although Cassandra was no more than a peasant, Cook insisted on calling her “my lady.”
“My lady,” Cook repeated as she pulled the apron over her gray hair and tied the strings behind her. “Would you please go to the village for me? The apothecary has herbs to soothe my nerves. I trust you will go and come right back, unlike the servant girls who are easily distracted by the favor of a young man.” She exhaled heavily. “This banquet is driving me insane.”
Cassandra took the coins offered to her as she laughed. “You know how much King Thomas loves the Spring Festival.”
Cook heaved another sigh. “Yes, I know. Please buy yourself something with whatever is left. And thank you.”
Bowing her head in reverent obedience, she clutched the silvers in her young hand. She set her empty bowl on the hearth of the fireplace and, as silently as a mouse, slipped out the wood door of the kitchen and into the courtyard.
Cassandra unobtrusively walked the dirt path from the palace to the small village of Sebrone. The trail weaved its light brown scales several hundred yards under the canopy of evergreen branches. There was a deep, lush carpet of ferns and wildflowers stretching from it on either side as far as the eye could see.
The melody of the doves nestling in the trees filled her senses as she surrendered to the perfume of nature all around her. She lost herself suddenly, a deep desire to join the birds overhead filling her heart. Stopping to shake the fog from her mind, she continued on her journey with a sigh.
Sebrone was a bustling hamlet resting against the bosom of the palace. The differences between the home of the king and the town just a matter of yards away from it stunned Cassandra as she paused to stare at the life around her.
Small children played in the dust and ran wild through the streets. Mothers swept their houses out with straw brooms, chiding their youngsters from the doorways. Young women gathered water in pitchers and strayed from their paths, enticed by the soft beckoning of vendors selling silk scarves, beads, and other beautiful trinkets. Men stood in the square, conversing in deep voices about the daily events.
Cassandra lowered her head to avoid the stares of the villagers as she passed. She looked away as three gangly youths laughed and pointed in her direction. She sidestepped a small throng of children, watching them with sorrowful eyes.
They, like many others she noticed, were merely skin and bones. Even with the palace only a couple of h
undred feet away, Gorgon's men stripped grain from Sebrone. These families were starving as she did as a child. Cassandra closed her eyes as she felt horrible pangs of guilt. She spent every day with a full stomach and every night in a soft bed while these people did without.
Pushing open the door to the apothecary's shop, she entered the dark, dry room. “Sir?” she asked timidly.
A tiny, elderly man hobbled from a shadowy corner. “May I help you?” he croaked.
“I am here to retrieve herbs for Cook at the palace.”
“Yes, yes of course. Do you have the coins?”
Cassandra opened her hand to reveal them, cupped in her palm. He scooped up all but two of them and dropped the burlap sachet into their place. She bowed her thanks and pushed her way through the door into the sunlight.
Cassandra clenched the remaining two coins in her hand, suddenly unsure of her plans. Cook told me to use them, but on what? She weaved her way through the dust of the village streets back toward the path to the palace. She studied the vendors, being incredibly careful to avoid their sly entices. Suddenly, she stopped at the door of the baker. She slipped inside, finding no wares except two loaves of bread.
“May I help you?” a remarkably plump woman demanded.
“How much for the bread?” Cassandra quietly inquired.
“More than you have. Be gone.”
Cassandra opened her fist. “I have two pieces of silver. Will that buy at least a slice?”
The woman stood and crossed the room. She analyzed Cassandra with a superior eye then snatched up the coins and handed Cassandra one of the loaves.
Bowing her thanks, Cassandra ran into the street with her new treasure. She searched the alleys, the well, and throughout the town, until she found the band of children she had seen earlier. Kneeling down among them, she broke off pieces of the loaf and placed the remnants in the tiny hands of those gathered around her.
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