The Reign of Trees

by Folkman, Lori

  And what of her? If Burchess conquered Deltegra, would she be forced to sit on the throne of Deltegra next to King Harrington? The thought of Leif taking seat in the throne room at Andoradda not only made her ill, but it made her blood boil with anger. But what could she do to stop it?

  Nothing.

  There was nothing that she could do once back within the borders of Burchess to keep Deltegra safe. There was nothing she could do to keep Donovan safe.

  And worse than that, there was nothing she could do that would ever enable her to be with Donovan.

  Unless.

  Unless she never made it to Lietstan to claim sanctuary.

  She now knew what she needed to do. Although she wanted nothing more than to lie down and fall asleep, she stood and grabbed Kasba’s reigns. She walked through the small cropping of trees and crested the final hill. From there, she could see the village. But it was not the village she was looking for. It was the highway.

  ***

  The capital of Vieve was less than a day’s ride from the border village of Lietstan. However, Illianah knew she could not ask Kasba to make the journey. Additionally, Illianah did not think it would be good to ride Kasba into the capital of Vieve. Kasba was from Burchess: it was possible someone would see the faded firebrand on her hide and therefore connect the horse’s rider with that kingdom as well.

  So with a heavy heart, Illianah slapped Kasba hard upon her rear and told her to find home. Illianah was then entirely alone in her journey.

  She walked into Lietstan just long enough to pay for a carriage and by nightfall, she found herself in the capital of Vieve. The driver of the carriage took her to an inn of good repute in a neighborhood near the palace. In fact, Illianah could see one of the narrow towers of the palace from her window. Somehow, it felt reassuring to be within sight of the palace and other royalty, although they could never know of Illianah’s presence.

  Illianah had paid for her room and board, but she did not dine in the inn that night. Her body was too heavy with fatigue. She collapsed on the bed, not knowing what tomorrow would bring and only thinking of yesterday. At this time yesterday, she had dined with the king and Donovan. And just a few hours later, she had said goodbye to her life as Princess of Burchess. It did not sadden her, as she once would have thought. Instead, she felt … free. Finally free.

  ***

  A good night’s rest and a hearty breakfast amplified Illianah’s euphoria. She took to the streets of the capital after breakfast, knowing that her gown was wrinkled and her hair looked like she did not know how to brush it. Which, in fact, she really did not. She had run her fingers through it this morning, but she did not know how to pin it or create any kind of fancy braid. She did not even have a proper brush, as the one in the room at the inn looked to be made with shark’s teeth. Even though she knew she looked as if she had just fallen from a farmer’s cart while heading toward market, she still smiled as if she were Queen of the City.

  She milled about the marketplace and bought a few essential items, like a brush and perfume, and a few unneeded items as well. She could not resist buying a stretch of beautiful lace which the citizens of Vieve were so famous for crafting.

  She then made her way from the marketplace to the permanent shops lining the main street of the capital. The shopping selection was akin to St. Moraine and her heart raced with delight at the thought of once again being in an urbane city.

  A gown in the window of one of the shops caught her eye. It was a deep shade of rust, signifying that fall fashions had arrived. The embroidery on the sleeves and neckline was stitched with an exquisite gold thread. Since the discovery of New Burchess, gold had been traded abundantly with Vieve for their array of spices grown near the southern sea. It was likely that the aristocracy of Vieve could afford gold thread, just as they could in Burchess; but in Deltegra, such elegance was nonexistent.

  She entered the shop and found many more dresses of equal beauty. The fabrics were thick, yet felt silky as she rubbed her hands along them. It made her gown feel like burlap against her skin. Obviously the gown Donovan had given her to wear as she fled Deltegra was chosen to keep her warm and hidden in the darkness, and not for finery, but Illianah felt it had served its purpose and it was time to trade it for something more respectable.

  “May I help you?” a woman carrying a stack of fabrics asked.

  “Yes, I would like to get fitted for the gown in the window.”

  The woman was plump and older, her graying hair pulled tight into a bun at the back of her head. The woman looked down, obviously needing the help of her glasses to get a closer look at Illianah, and then the woman smirked. “Would you now? You would be better off asking to sweep my floor than asking to wear one of my dresses.”

  Illianah’s mouth gaped, but she quickly recovered, realizing that the woman did not realize she was speaking to a princess. “I did not come for employment; I came to purchase a dress. Now do you wish to fit me or shall I go elsewhere?”

  The shop owner did not buy Illianah’s bluff. “You have money to purchase that dress?” she said with a cluck. “It is worth five hundred farlings.”

  Five hundred? Goodness. Illianah would have never guessed it would cost that much. Her room and board only cost her fifty for an entire week, and after she had paid the innkeeper, her coin bag felt much lighter. She suspected she did not have five hundred Vievian farlings in the pouch to begin with. Possibly only a hundred.

  “I am not from your kingdom,” Illianah said, holding her head high and speaking with as much poise as possible. “But I have traveled abundantly and I can tell you that your prices are outrageous. Perhaps you can trick Vievians into paying that much, but for this same dress, I would give you only a hundred; and I could buy it for less than that in St. Moraine.”

  “Then I suggest you go to St. Moraine to buy your next ‘fine’ dress,” the woman said haughtily, looking Illianah up and down as if she were a pauper asking for handouts.

  Illianah quickly left the shop, knowing her cheeks had flushed, making her appear even more unfit for finery. As she walked back down the main street—farther away from the palace—she reminded herself that she was no longer a princess and no respect was owed her; but it still stung to be looked down upon.

  At the edge of the shopping district, Illianah found another dress shop. The gown in the window of this store was brown and not nearly as fine, but it was still better than the one she was wearing. “How much for this dress?” Illianah asked upon entering the store.

  “One hundred farlings,” the shopkeeper answered.

  “Thank you,” Illianah said, already heading back out the door.

  She practically ran back to her room at the inn where she quickly emptied her coin purse and counted the contents. Forty-two farlings. Illianah closed her eyes and tried to breathe away the newfound stress. She had paid for a week’s stay and a carriage ride to the capital and had nearly wiped out all her resources. Obviously, Donovan had thought a hundred farlings to pay the rector of the chapel at Lietstan would be sufficient for Illianah’s travels. This money was not intended to sustain Illianah’s life.

  The euphoria which had lit upon her shoulders quickly flew away like flock of birds heading south for the winter. Freedom had no place in her life.

  ***

  Illianah spent the rest of the day in the inn, trying to formulate a plan. But she knew, deep down, that she was in trouble. She could not pay for another week at the inn. She was not skilled; therefore, she would not be able to find a job. Who would hire a former princess who did not even know how to braid her own hair?

  The next morning, she left the inn again, this time she avoided the finer shops and kept to the side streets. She needed to find some sort of employment—some sort of apprenticeship. She did know embroidery and thought it possible she could find a job with a tailor if he did not ask for qualifications. But before she made it into any of the shops, she became caught up in a crowd headed to the palace. “Very grave ne
ws, indeed,” one of the women standing nearby said.

  “What will this mean for Prince Harrington?” another woman asked.

  Illianah froze in her spot at the mention of her husband, but even though her feet wished to remain still, she was pushed on by a large drove of people intent on going to the palace.

  “Stop!” Illianah cried out. “I must … I must …” But no one listened to her pleas to get out from the throng. She felt helpless, as if she was being pushed underneath the wheels of a carriage. Once she stopped fighting the crowd and surrendered her body to move toward the palace, the panic passed, but still, the last place she wanted to be was in the courtyard of the palace of Vieve.

  It felt odd being among the commoners instead of looking out on them from the balcony above. It made her feel friendless and forsaken, especially when one of the lords of Vieve came to the edge of the balcony and said, “I have news of the war in Deltegra. It is not good news.” He stopped speaking and held his head down dramatically, as if he needed to gather courage to continue speaking. “Princess Illianah of Burchess has been murdered in the village Cordana.”

  All around her, Illianah could hear cries and gasping, and her own mouth loudly exclaimed, “What?”

  “It appears as if Princess Illianah was being held captive in a hut in Cordana, and when the soldiers of Deltegra saw that Prince Harrington’s army was about to breech the village walls, they set the hut on fire in one final act of spite against the kingdom of Burchess.”

  The people around Illianah were clearly astonished, but based on their tears and expressions of grief, they had accepted the news. The story of her death, obviously circulated by Leif himself, was not even questioned. It was exactly as Donovan had said it would be.

  “Burchess has declared it will avenge the death of the daughter of King Gregory, and Liksland has vowed to help in the effort. Deltegra will pay for their treachery.”

  Not thinking fast enough to catch her mouth, Illianah exclaimed, “But this is wrong!”

  Several people surrounding her looked at her, asking for an explanation. “The people of Deltegra are not the murderous type,” she explained.

  “Nor did we think they would be the type to attack Freidlenburg,” someone said.

  “But, they did not …” she began, but then her mind finally warned her mouth to be quiet. She could not divulge too much or people would want to know where her knowledge came from.

  Some of the crowd asked questions of the lord on the balcony, and then the crowd slowly began to diminish. Illianah stood frozen in her spot. “This is wrong,” she again mumbled.

  The lord and the military men who had been on the balcony left as well, going back into the palace with the notion that Deltegra had just committed a great injustice against Burchess. It was clear that the Vievian council had the ear of Burchess, just like every other country surrounding Deltegra. It was unfair. And more than just being unfair—it was a great evil. Something needed to be done.

  There really could be no escaping her life, as she had momentarily hoped for, especially not if her absence was going to help Burchess defeat Deltegra. Illianah knew she needed to step forward and reveal the lies Leif was spreading. She must go to the king and queen of Vieve.

  Illianah began to move toward the steps of the palace. It was heavily guarded, but all she needed to do was gain entrance to the throne room. The king and queen would recognize her. They had been to court in St. Moraine many times.

  “I wish to have and audience with the king,” she told the guard.

  “I am sorry ma’am, but audience was earlier this morning.”

  “But this is urgent: it is in regards to the war between Burchess and Deltegra.”

  “And that is precisely why audience has been cut short. Our Royal Highnesses have more important matters to tend to.”

  The guard lifted his head and looked past Illianah like she was no longer there. He had given the final word on the matter. She would not be let in to see the king and queen.

  “The next audience,” Illianah said. “When is it?”

  In Burchess, it was just once a week. Illianah hoped Vieve would hold audience more frequently, but the guard informed her that it would be the same time, one week from today. She could not wait that long.

  “I am Princess Illianah of Burchess,” she said, holding her head proudly.

  The guard laughed and elbowed the guard next to him. “She says she is the dead princess.”

  The second guard laughed as well. “And I am Prince Harrington of Liksland,” he said, causing the first guard to roar with laughter.

  “But I am Princess Illianah,” she again said.

  The second guard bowed deeply and said, “Then by all means, My Lady, you may enter the palace.”

  She paused, bewildered that they had relented so quickly, and then nodded at the men before she took a step toward the palace.

  “You are not going anywhere except home.” The guard held his spear at her chest and said, “Now get lost.

  Illianah knew the guards keeping the palace entrance safe would have been put there based on their size and their skills with a spear and not for the brilliance of their minds, therefore, she knew there was nothing she could say that would convince them to let her enter. However, if she was wearing that rust-colored gown and looked the part of a princess—or at the very least, a lady—she might be allowed to enter. She left the palace grounds and walked back to the inn, again passing the dress shop. She had to get that dress.

  Back at the inn, Illianah sat near the fire in the taproom and tried to formulate a plan, but there was nothing she could think of that would help her come up with nearly five hundred farlings overnight.

  At supper, a man came to sit across from Illianah. He was older than her by at least a decade and his tanned, weathered skin suggested he spent a great deal of time working in the sun. “I’ve been watching you,” he said. “You look as if you have the weight of the world upon your shoulders.”

  “Yes, it feels that way.” She looked back at her food, hoping he would recognize that she did not wish to divulge her inner thoughts to a complete stranger.

  He did not say anything else for a time and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him take a long swig of ale. She cringed, realizing that she was sharing her supper with a man who was about to be drunk. She longed to be out of this public inn, yet where else could she go? Her only other option was to pay for a carriage back to Lietstan where she could claim sanctuary at the chapel, just as Donovan had asked her to do. Or for that matter, could she not just head to the nearest chapel here at the capital and do the same thing?

  As Illianah pondered this option, the man again spoke. “I saw you at the palace steps earlier today.”

  She looked up and saw his eyes held fast on her, a conniving expression on his face. “You must be mistaken …” she began to say.

  “Oh, it was you all right. I saw you clearly as I was leaving the palace.”

  He said this as if he hoped to impress her, but nothing about this man would do anything but offend her. His clothing was fine, suggesting he had money; but his manners were uncouth, revealing he was not a gentleman. Something about him made her hair stand on end, and a quick judgment led her to surmise that there was something sinister about this man.

  “I heard you request an audience with the king,” the man said.

  Illianah realized she had been holding her breath and now felt as if she could breathe again. He had not heard her claim to be the princess. “Yes, any citizen can request an audience.”

  “But you are not a citizen of Vieve,” he said. “You do not speak like us.”

  She groaned silently within her heart. She had hoped no one would notice that she did not have the same accent. In Vieve, they spoke sharper, as if the rolling vowels spoken by Burchessians were too difficult to master. She did not answer the man, as doing so would only give him further proof that she did not speak crudely like his kind.

  “I had just
come from the throne room,” the man went on. “I was granted an audience with the king. My third audience, actually. I am highly favored in the court.”

  Her attempts at ignoring the man fell short; she felt the need to put an end to such arrogance. “If you were highly favored in the court, then why are you not sleeping in the palace tonight? Surely a king with over two hundred rooms in his palace would have space for you, His Favored One.”

  The man squinted at her with a look of vehemence, but then that expression gradually gave way to a look of discovery. “You know the ways of court,” he said. It was not a question. Illianah had revealed too much.

  “I know what is obvious,” she countered.

  “My name is Valencio,” he said, offering his hand across the table. “Captain Valencio.”

  He was not in uniform, so obviously he was not a military captain. He was a sailor, which explained his leathery skin. Illianah knew it was rude to not accept his hand, but she did not wish to encourage him.

  “And you are?” he asked, his hand still extended.

  “Katherine,” she said, giving him the same name she had given the innkeeper—and the name of Donovan’s sister. Illianah thought Katherine would not mind Illianah claiming that name as she created a new life, but now she worried that someone might make the connection with the house of Da Via—especially a man who knew she was not native to Vieve. But the man’s face did not dawn with recognition, likely not thinking of that particular Katherine amongst the thousand others he would have met in his travels.

  Once she had given him her name, it seemed as if he thought she needed to know every detail of his life. While she held no interest in his ship or the new estate he had just purchased in the port village of Bouron, it did keep him from asking questions about her past and her quest to speak with the king.