I cringed, realizing some unassuming guard would bear the punishment for my thievery. It was an unintentional consequence, but there was nothing for it. Likely as not, it would not be a man loyal to the king that would find himself on the wrong end of the lash, but one under the queen’s service. The Captain of the Royal Guard never seemed to fall on one side or the other, as he was a good soldier that followed orders, regardless of who gave them. Unfortunately for the queen, he was not the most cunning of men.
When it was clear, I left my hiding place and returned to the stables, all the while considering the exchange I’d overheard. If the king only that morning reported the missing flower, and at such an early hour, what had him occupied previously and saw him out of bed before dawn? Given what he usually wore, and how long those items took to put on, I wondered how it was he was able to see the captain now. Either he was an incredibly early riser, or he wore the same clothing as the day before. I wished I’d thought to peek out the door to see for myself. If he wore the same clothes, he would likely have been awake all night. And what would keep a man such as him from sleep?
Given his conversation with the captain, the king was likely creating another Daymaiden lily to replace the one I’d stolen. Since he knew someone had taken it, and that they might suspect its purpose, the king would almost certainly turn his attention to uncovering his enemy.
While I understood the urgency, the timing for my need to dig deeper was dangerous. Any small slip and I’d be found out. Given my history with King Alder, I would undoubtedly lose my head if I were caught.
As the day passed, I turned my focus to the matter of where his secret lair might be located instead. The longer I thought on it, the less likely the dungeons seemed to me. Anyone that stepped within ten feet of the door would reek for the rest of the day, and the king never carried such a scent with him. There must be another place on the grounds where he worked his magic.
I mulled it over as I ate my watery stew for dinner. The tower rooms, one each at the top of the four spires, might be likely, but seemed far too obvious. King Alder worked in secret, and wouldn’t risk so blatant a location.
I needed to search deeper. How else might I uncover his elusive room? As I finished my food, I decided my first step would be to explore tunnels in the walls I’d not yet ventured into. As the sun went down and the castle fell into slumber, my night was only beginning.
Somewhere around the time the watch cried two, I decided to give up the search. I’d crawled through more passages and kicked more rats in one evening than I had the entire six months I’d been employed at the castle, which was saying a good deal, given that I worked in the stables for the most part. Emerging from a servants’ exit on the far western side of the palace, I took a deep gulp of the cold night air. With a yawn and a stretch, I resumed my travels, creeping through the bordering woods as cover.
I was about to cut back east, to return to the stables on the south end, when a strange sensation came over me. It oozed over my skin, raising every hair on my head and twisting a feeling of nausea in my stomach. Knowing it for what it was, I pushed past the manufactured fear and stepped closer to the source of the discomfort. Within five feet, I was certain of it. Someone had set a magical ward on the place. Hope sprang at last, giving me the courage to push through my body’s ever-growing certainty that I should not be there. Deeper into the woods I went, fighting my instincts with my rational mind. That was the spell’s function. If a person stumbled onto the place without familiarity with wards, they would flee the spot for certain, claiming spirits chased them away. I choked back the bile rising in my throat and forced my feet to run toward the source. The ward was a powerful one, but I’d been through far worse courtesy of my sister, Farah.
When I broke through the unseen barrier, all feelings of discomfort evaporated, and I found myself standing in front of a dense copse of trees, each trunk thicker than three men could encircle with joined arms. Magic oozed from every wrinkle in the bark and odd stillness of the leaves. There was a glamour in place, sure as the sky was blue, but how to get through it?
A grinding noise came from the tree nearest me, and I dashed around the far right side of the copse to avoid being seen. Peeking around, I looked in time to see a cloaked man emerge from the largest of the trees and turn back to the portal he’d come through.
“Blasted knot,” he mumbled to himself, and when he spoke, I recognized King Alder’s voice. “I can never find it the first try.”
His gloved hand slid down the bark of the tree, paused, then pressed on a spot in the wood. The grinding noise returned, followed by a heavy clunk as the door slid back into place.
“Aomara,” he whispered.
I smiled to myself. That one word gave away more about him than fifty of his speeches at court.
Slowly easing back from the edge of my hiding place, I listened for the sounds of his retreating footsteps as he hurried through the forest, returning to the castle. Once he’d gone, I checked again, grinning triumphantly when the area appeared clear. Still, I waited several minutes, lest he return to retrieve something he’d forgotten. When I felt relatively secure that he’d not be coming back, I crept towards the door.
Standing as he had, I leaned into the tree.
“Aomara,” I whispered to it. There was no sound, but a distinct wavering passed over the bark. Lifting my hand, I felt around in the location he’d searched for the knot, finding the telltale bump of stone within moments. I pressed it, and the door slid open before me, revealing a dark tunnel of steps spiraling away into the earth. With a shaky breath, I looked around, confirmed I was alone, and proceeded into the hidden chamber.
In the dark, I felt my way down thirty curving stairs before a dim light showed the end of the passage. It opened into a room, but I paused. Shadows of dark magic hung everywhere, nearly as suffocating as smoke in a burning building, but the greatest concentration of it lurked to the left of the doorway, marked by a distinct aura that raised the hairs on my scalp. Pressing myself to the wall, I eased my way down, only glancing around the edge to catch a glimpse of what awaited me. With a silent gasp, I pulled back. The largest scrying mirror I’d ever heard of hung there, inert until a living soul stepped within its sight. He was smart to hang it there, as the mirror would instantly see any who entered without giving away its presence until it was too late. Above it hung a velvet curtain, open, as it served as a passive guard. Reaching around the wall, I stretched until I could grasp the cord securing it and gave a tug. The curtain fell, leaving me free to explore.
The circular room was lined with shelves and workbenches, filled with books and bottles and tools and unidentifiable parts of things. Jarred animals floated in greenish and bluish liquids, and drying plants hung from the ceiling, lending the space the faint, musty scent of herbs and dust. The center table formed a horseshoe shape, and was as cluttered as the rest of the room. However, one item stood out from the rest.
Resting on a small podium was a large, leather-bound tome, cracked with age and well-worn by the look of the spine. Scanning for any further traps, but finding none, I emerged into the room to examine the book more closely. As I approached, I noted many Daymaiden lilies in various states of drying, decay, or dissection. Seeds sat beside a small pot that contained little shoots of green peeking up from the black soil. I cringed. He’d already made great strides towards replacing what I’d taken.
Stopping at the podium, I considered the book. My hand hovered over it, searching for any triggers or magical seals, but finding none. Hesitantly, I opened the cover. The magic coming from these pages was darker than any I’d ever encountered before, and my stomach churned at having to touch the thing.
My heart sank. The first page of the book was written in Dinnish, of which I knew but a few words. I thought it would be the case when he spoke the word “aomara” at the door, but to confirm that was a blow to my hope. The Dinnarian’s word denoting ownership marked him as a rare breed of men descended from the ancient
people. Few knew the language, and fewer still were acquainted with their methods of magic. Clarice and Delphine would relish the chance to examine a book such as this, but, for me, it was nothing more than an obstacle that might be impossible to overcome. Looking through a few more pages, I confirmed that the entire book was transcribed in Dinnish, and repressed my frustration. All might not be lost. I’d have to confer with my sisters.
The late hour and constant activity crashed over me then, and I realized there was little else I would be able to accomplish there tonight. I closed the book and crossed to the stairs, making sure to uncover the scrying mirror before taking my leave. If I was to return, all things must be as I found them, lest he learn I discovered this place. After closing the door and whispering the sealing word, I retreated back towards the castle. Another long day awaited me, and I would be lucky to sleep three hours.
Chapter 5
“Dinnish?” she said. “You’re certain?”
Rubbing my eyes, I fought to stay awake. “Positive. I only know a few words, but enough to recognize it when I see or hear it.”
“That presents a difficulty.” Her foggy face couldn’t mask her displeasure. Delphine had no love for Dinnarians or their language, despite her curiosity. “I might be able to translate from written text, but I’ll have to scour my memory to find words for you to look for. I’d know the pages when I saw them, but to have to guess at something like this…” She sighed. “I have to speak with the others. They may be able to help.”
“It’s just as well,” I said with a yawn. “I’ve not the energy or alertness to venture in there again tonight.”
“If it means anything, the ashes speak of good things for you. Take heart.”
I grimaced. “I asked you not to do that. I’ve no wish to know my future. It’s bad enough I have to hide from a giant scrying mirror now. Promise you won’t read the ashes for me again.”
“I only wanted to make sure you were safe, dearest one.”
“I understand, but please respect my wishes.”
“May I ask one question first?”
“If you must,” I grumbled.
“You’ve not been hiding something from us, have you?”
“What?” I said, confused. “No. Of course not.”
“But the ashes said there’s someone—”
“I don’t want to know about the ashes,” I interrupted. “Leave me with my illusions of free will. I make my own choices.”
“As you wish.”
Her remarks brought up another concern of mine, so I disregarded the ashes and pressed on through my exhaustion. “But this mirror of his, should I worry? The sheer size of it, and the power I sensed from it, could he use it to discover me?”
The smoke wavered as she thought on it. “Hmm, I think you’ll be fine. A mirror such as that can only show what can be reflected. With Lucinda’s gift as well as your own talents, I think he’ll not be able to weed you out. If he turned to the Royal Guard with the matter, that means he wasn’t able to acquire the knowledge on his own. Be careful, however. I know you’re tired. Keep a clear head if you can, and get some rest.”
I yawned. “Well, that’s some comfort, but I don’t think I’ll be well-rested until I’ve slept for a week.”
“In due time, dearest one. You’ll be with us again soon. For now, sleep well.”
“I shall try.”
I doused the fire, succumbing to slumber in moments.
Three nights passed before I returned to the secret room again. It took longer than my sisters thought to assemble words that might find the useful entry in the Dinnish book of the king’s. They sent a small bundle consisting of a tiny parchment and an impression crystal, which I stashed away with my bow and quiver. The parchment contained a list of ten things to search for, which I memorized and promptly burned.
Another impediment to my progress was in having to wait for the man to leave his evil workshop. To say “evil” was not an exaggeration. What little Dinnish I was able to translate in the book chilled my blood. As such, I couldn’t risk entry if there was a chance he was inside. For three more nights I waited, dozing in the cold December darkness, and he did not emerge.
Unable to trust my faculties from lack of sleep, I took a night for myself. Finally, the next night, I caught the king leaving and could put myself to work in earnest. It was a slow and painful search, and I was only able to read through a quarter of the tome that night.
Two more visits over the course of the next week, and I finally hit on a possibility. The words for “bloom,” “eternity,” and “death” appeared on the same page three-quarters of the way in. Of course, I couldn’t be sure this was the thing I sought with total surety, but it was the best I had. Taking the pink-hued crystal from my pocket, I set it against the page and whispered to it.
“Preserve what my memory will not.”
The crystal glowed from the inside, the illumination spreading out until it covered the page. The glow flared to full brightness, and I looked away until it was finished.
A sudden unease crept over me. In that instant, I knew I had to run. The wards were rigged to send the room’s occupants a warning in the form of fear.
Slamming the book closed, I rushed to the stairs and out the door, sealing it as quickly as I could before bolting further into the woods. I didn’t stop until I was well clear of the ward and concealed in the underbrush.
There, panting against the frosted ground, I realized I’d made a grave mistake.
The scrying mirror was still covered.
“Good morning, Highness,” I said as Prince Leopold found me amongst the saddles I was tasked with polishing that day. When his expression registered, I stood and brushed off my hands. “Are you unwell, Sire? You look in need of rest.”
With a tired sigh, he shook his head. “It’s not my health that concerns me, Rae. I thought I’d take a ride to clear my head a bit.”
“Certainly, Your Highness.” I stepped out from the piles of tack surrounding me, retrieving his saddle from its place on the wall.
We walked in silence back to the stalls. His brooding quiet worried me. A small part of me wished to tell him the truth, to give him hope that the situation might yet be rectified, but I knew I couldn’t risk as much in the light of day.
“Speak your mind, Sire. Perhaps it will help ease your burden. I see plainly that you’re troubled, and, though I might not have useful advice for you, I’ll listen if you’ve need of it.”
He greeted Remy with a soft pat on his nose, the horse nuzzling his palm. “While I thank you for the offer, Rae, I wouldn’t know where to begin.” He paused. “Though, I suppose you’re aware of the queen’s condition?”
“Aye, My Lord.”
“I imagine you don’t know the whole of it. The staff likely talks, but…” He took the saddle from me, slinging it across the horse’s back. “She’s very close to death. I fear she may not last the day, but I couldn’t bear another moment in that room. I’ve spent nearly every day by her side this past week, but my courage wavers. I…” The prince closed his eyes against a sheen of tears. “All the power of a kingdom behind me and I cannot save the only family I have left. It’s cowardly of me to not be with her in these moments, as each one might be her last, but I…”
Heart breaking for him, I set a hand against his arm, as inappropriate as it was for someone of my status. Still, I couldn’t bear to see him in so much pain and not reach out to him. His was a suffering I knew well.
“You’re only human, Your Highness. You mustn’t berate yourself for it. All life begins, and all life ends. It’s right that we mourn the passing of a great light, but take comfort when you can. She wouldn’t wish you to suffer. If a single ride in the open air will lift your spirits enough to carry on, she would want that for you.”
Taking the buckles from his hands, I continued to speak as I readied his horse. “I’ve never met the queen myself, as she took ill before my hiring, but I’ve heard many tales of her kindness
and compassion. Wherever I’ve traveled, there were stories in the towns and villages about her. Even the soldiers spoke well of her diplomacy when it came to avoiding war. As such, I can’t imagine a woman such as her would keep you from a small moment of peace in the storm.”
I tightened the last belt and straightened, standing beside him as he frowned to himself. “This heaviness suits you ill, Sire. Were there anything I could do for you, know I would help in any way at all.”
When he met my gaze, I willed myself to keep breathing. A deep, lonely sadness passed from his eyes into my heart. I couldn’t share my knowledge with him. He wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from King Alder. Even so, I wished it were different.
After a moment, he broke his hold over me, giving a sad smile and a nod. “And I thank you for it,” he said. “And for your words as well. I needed them dearly today, as I likely will in the future. Are you still set against the position I offered you? It would be nice to not need an excuse to see you.”
I balked. “His Highness is free to see me here whenever he likes. Are excuses necessary?”
He chuckled a little as he set a foot in a stirrup and mounted his horse. “I suppose not, though I might be thought odd were I to spend inordinate amounts of time in the stables for no apparent purpose.”
“And why should royalty have care what others think of him?”
At this, he frowned again. “It’s not for a ruler to place himself above others,” he said. “In truth, what more does a ruler have than how he’s seen by his people?”
Feeling reprimanded in the face of such wisdom, I shrunk back a bit. “Of course, Highness. I only meant to say, what good is the opinion of others when you don’t like yourself? A miserable ruler would be a poor ruler indeed, incapable of clear, level-headed leadership. Without peace of mind, what peace can you bring to others?”
Shadows on Snow: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales) Page 5
