The Reign of Trees

by Folkman, Lori

  Three months of freedom. That was all that she could think about now. That would give her enough time to find direction for her life. It might even be enough time for the war to end. If it went well for Deltegra, it was possible she might get to be with Donovan again—as long as Leif either was killed or captured.

  Illianah closed her eyes and tilted back her head, enjoying what may be the last sunshine of the season upon her face. Freedom, her heart seemed to say with each beat. All these struggles would be well worth the pain once she had her own life—a life that no man would dictate to her what she could and could not say; what she could and could not do. A life where her heart was free to love by choice and not command.

  She left the quiet gardens and made her way back to the inn, smiling with thoughts of the future. Even though she had planned on telling Valencio yes, her heart still froze when she saw him at his typical place by the fire. “Monsieur Valencio,” she said walking confidently toward him, “the answer is yes. I will go to your estate tomorrow.”

  He smiled so large it looked as if his dry, chapped skin might crack, making her feel all the worse. Her news brought him delight, which meant it would grieve him when she left. “I am glad of it,” he replied. “See to it that you are ready to leave by seven. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

  Illianah tried to fake a smile, but her lips would not obey. “And do try to look happy about it,” he said.

  “I do not wear my emotions upon my sleeve,” she said as she turned to the stairwell.

  “On the contrary, my dear,” he called out behind her, “you do.”

  ***

  After spending a few hours in her bedchamber, a knock came at the door. It was the innkeeper’s wife and in her arms was a gift from Valencio. A gown. It was not the rust gown with gold trim, but Illianah was certain it came from the same shop. The embroidery—also gold—was immaculate, equally as fine as anything she had owned in Burchess. The gown was made of dark blue silk; the exposed underskirt was in a lighter shade of blue with gold flowers spun onto the fabric. The gown was truly magnificent—made for nobility. While Illianah’s first reaction at the gown was one of awe over seeing such finery once again in her possession, her second reaction was one of guilt. She should not be accepting such a gift from a man she had no intent on marrying.

  “He wishes you to look your finest when you arrive at Bouron tomorrow,” the innkeeper’s wife said. “And he has ordered a bath for you as well. What time would you like it?”

  A bath? Illianah felt like falling backwards onto the bed in delight. A bath sounded heavenly—and heaven knew she needed one. “Now is fine,” she said, trying not to sound too eager.

  “Right now?” the woman asked. “Then we will not be able to go out to see the prince.”

  “The prince?” The prince of Vieve was very young still—not much more than a toddler.

  “Yes, the Prince of Deltegra. Didn’t you hear?”

  Illianah’s ears began to ring so loudly she thought she must have been at the top of a bell tower on a Sunday morning.

  The innkeeper’s wife began to move about Illianah’s room, setting down the gown and tidying up. “He should be passing through any moment now,” she said, “On his way to see the king.”

  “Prince Henrick, of Deltegra?” Illianah asked, not believing what she had heard.

  “Yes. He’s come to ask for assistance from King Reginald. Don’t think he’ll get it though. King Reginald isn’t going to want his crown involved in that bloody brawl.”

  Illianah had turned to stone. She could not move—could not think. Her body may as well have been atop one of the fountains in the city’s garden.

  “Miss? Miss?” The innkeeper’s wife asked. She must have been speaking to Illianah for quite some time, as she looked genuinely worried. “Are you unwell?”

  “No, I am fine,” Illianah said, though her voice sounded anything but convincing.

  “Then shall we wait for your bath so we can go out to see the prince? He will come straight past the inn. I have heard he is very handsome. Can hardly wait to set my eyes upon him. All I gets to look at is my Helifax, day in and day out.”

  Illianah’s body thawed as rapidly as ice over a kitchen fire. Donovan. Passing by the inn. She could see him again. And he could see her. He would know where she was. He could rescue her from her deplorable treaty with Monsieur Valencio.

  Of course, having a bath before she was seen by Donovan would be ideal. “How much longer before he passes by?” she asked.

  “The herald came past about an hour ago, so it could be any moment. The streets were beginning to fill as I came upstairs. Shall we go now so we can get close enough to get a good view of him?” she asked.

  “Yes, certainly,” Illianah said.

  The innkeeper’s wife left the room and turned to Illianah, whose body was still stiff as stone. “Well aren’t you coming?”

  “Yes. I will be just behind you,” Illianah replied, forcing a smile onto her face.

  Illianah quickly shut the door and went to the mirror at the dressing table. “Good gracious,” she said aloud. She looked frightful. Her hair was oily and looked as if it was weighing her down, like fishnets cast over the side of a boat. Her black gown had been worn for nearly a week now, but it looked as if it had been worn for a month. It was no wonder she could not find employment. It was also a wonder that Monsieur Valencio found her attractive.

  As best she could, she fluffed her hair and smoothed her gown and then went to join the crowd in the streets of the capital. Everyone was straining their necks to the left, watching for the prince to come into sight.

  It was just moments until the caravan of soldiers from Deltegra came into sight. They were on horseback; the four front soldiers carried banners of Deltegra. She quickly recognized some of the soldiers as the ones who had accompanied her and Donovan on their ride into the forest. And for the first time in several days, Illianah wanted to be recognized. She stood on tippy-toes and craned her neck, hoping to be seen over the crowd.

  Donovan was not in a carriage as royalty typically traveled: he was on horseback. Obviously his visit to Vieve was a most urgent matter, as the only reason he would travel without a carriage was for speed. As he got closer, Illianah felt like she was somersaulting down a tall hill. He looked majestic atop his mammoth black horse. He wore a brown tunic, embroidered with green trimmings, and he wore the crest of Deltegra upon his chest. She had never seen him look more beautiful, nor had she ever seen him look so … weighted. He sat tall in his saddle, but the look upon his face was one of anguish, as the sunlight was his greatest foe. His eyes were sunken and dark, making him look aged ten years since she had last seen him.

  The citizens of the capital were waving flags and ribbons of green and cheering for the prince, even though he was coming to ask the impossible of a neutral kingdom.

  He kept his eyes fast on the road ahead of him: not on the crowd which lined the street. She had to get his attention. She had to make him look.

  If only she were closer to the front. She began to try and push through the crowd, but she was not progressing fast enough. His horse continued down the road, not pausing, not stopping, not seeing. “Dononvan!” she called out, not thinking of the ramifications. But he did not hear her voice above the crowd. She called his name over and over again within her mind, hoping that he would feel her presence and turn to her. He did not. She watched helplessly as his horse got father and father out of sight.

  The crowd soon cleared and Illianah found herself still standing at the edge of the street, staring off toward the palace and the procession following the prince from Deltegra.

  “He was handsome, wasn’t he?”

  Illianah did not need to turn her head to see it was the innkeeper’s wife speaking. In fact, Illianah did not want to turn her head away from Donovan. It was despairing to see him marching toward the palace—toward other royalty—without him acknowledging her presence amongst the crowd of commoners. This was c
ompletely backwards of what her life should be.

  “You certainly seem smitten by him,” the innkeeper’s wife said, her voice sounding on the edge of laughter. “Just think, had you been born on the other side of the palace wall, you could’ve had a chance with him.”

  Illianah began to turn back toward the inn where she could sulk in solitude within her room. “Yes,” she said, “I can only imagine.”

  ***

  The innkeeper’s wife and two other maids came into Illianah’s bedchamber a few hours later with a large barrel and several buckets of water.

  The water was not as warm as it should have been, but Illianah did not complain. It still felt wonderful to wash away the past week’s torment.

  One of the maids offered to braid Illianah’s hair even though Valencio had not paid for the service. Having someone’s fingers twisting through her hair felt as delightful as the bath, and Illianah ended up tipping the maid a farling for her services. Illianah did not mind parting with the money: not when the service provided felt so wonderful. And not when her money was no longer upon the threat of extinction.

  “Would you like to try on your dress?” the maid asked.

  Illianah had not wanted to think about that gown until morning, but then she realized something—that gown might be her salvation. “Yes, I think I would,” she responded.

  Once the maid had laced up the dress, she exclaimed, “Goodness Katherine, you look like a queen.”

  The mirror over the dressing table only offered a view of Illianah’s midsection, so she tried backing away from the mirror to see more of the dress. She still could not see the gown in its entirety, but she could see enough to agree with the maid. She looked like a princess again. Like the princess she was before she had married Leif nearly six months ago. But somehow, looking like royalty again made her sad. The gown did not seem a perfect reflection of the person she now was. However, she did not know that she would be able to select a gown that would mirror her soul, especially since her soul changed by the day.

  “Monsieur Valencio will be the proudest man in all of Vieve when he sees you in the morning. Shall I help you out of your gown before it gets spoiled?” the maid asked.

  “No, I think I shall like to stay in it a moment longer. Can I send you to purchase some ink and parchment?”

  The maid agreed and accepted money from Illianah, and said how kind she was to want to write Valencio to thank him for the dress. Yes, Illianah should do that. But she needed the parchment for another purpose.

  Chapter Sixteen

  She waited until the busy supper hour before she left her bedchamber, still wearing the dress. She had spent long enough in the inn to discover a back staircase, which lead to the alleyway behind the inn. It was no wonder that this staircase went largely unused, as it was rickety and looked like it could collapse at any moment. She hurried down the stairs and emerged into the streets of the capital, moving away from the inn as fast as she could without running.

  The palace was her destination, but she first stopped at the outer palace garden to let time pass. She knew the king and queen, as well as their visiting dignitary, would be in the middle of their supper. They would not want to be disturbed and her note to Donovan would be set aside until later. She could not jeopardize having her note become lost or forgotten.

  Just as the sun began to cast dark shadows across the city, Illianah left the sanctuary of the quiet garden and went to the gate of the palace. The guards stationed there were not the same ones she had confronted the other day, and for that she was grateful. “I need to get a message to His Highness, Prince Henrick of Deltegra.”

  “No visitors are allowed in the palace tonight, My Lady,” one guard said.

  Illianah wanted to smile for being called a lady again, but she remained calm and aloof. “That is quite all right. I do not wish to intrude. I only wish to get a letter to the prince. Can I count on you to deliver it into is hands?”

  “Yes My Lady, but it might be some time until …”

  She stepped forward and tilted her head to the left and smiled what she hoped was an enticing smile. In her hand she had ten gold farlings. She did not know if this was enough to entice the guard to do her bidding, but she prayed it was. “This letter needs to get to the prince: tonight. It is urgent. And he is expecting it. You do not want to keep him waiting, do you?”

  “No, My Lady.”

  “Very well,” she said handing the guard both the letter and the gold. “I am certain I can find good use for a guard who is dutiful. Great rewards lay ahead for you.” She held on to his hand a little longer than needed and blinked innocently at the soldier, who was looking more and more taken by her charm.

  “I thank you,” he said, sounding flattered, as well as appreciative of the gratuity she had given.

  She left the palace, walking with deliberate seduction as she had once done when she knew Donovan was watching her from his castle’s courtyard; but her heart felt as if it had been stung by a swarm of bees. She tried to take unnoticeable deep breaths as she left the palace courtyard, but by the time she passed the curtain wall, she felt so lightheaded she worried she might faint.

  Again, she used the old rickety staircase at the inn and locked herself in her bedchamber and waited. She kept a close eye on the cuckoo-clock on the wall and at a quarter to midnight, she put on her cloak and quietly crept out of her bedchamber, back down the staircase, into the alley, and into the streets. She kept her head down and pulled the hood over her head, hoping to go unnoticed as she made her way to the garden. Her letter to Donovan was simple, only saying:

  Meet me at midnight in the outer palace garden, to the left of the queen’s fountain.

  Her hand had been shaking so badly as she wrote the letter that she worried Donovan would not recognize it was penned by her, but she could not sign her name. What if the letter fell into someone else’s hand? She had taken the dagger he had given her for protection from the foes of the forest and plucked the diamond-shaped ruby from the handle; she enclosed the ruby in the letter, knowing Donovan would recognize a stone that came from his own dagger.

  Her feet were quiet as she stepped into the deserted garden. The garden was large and she did not know if it was entirely empty—she did not want to alert anyone to her presence.

  She could not have picked a better night to wander away from the inn all alone, as the moon was full and shinned brightly through the darkness. It was not hard to find her way to the Queen’s fountain, and once there, she turned to the right and took the path that led to the back hedge. Her meeting with Donovan would happen in this entirely isolated corner of the garden.

  But before she took the final step to sit on the bench near the hedge, she was grabbed from behind.

  A thick arm was across her chest and she felt something cold touch her throat. A dagger.

  ***

  “Where is she?”

  The voice at her ear was angry and gruff, but there was no doubt whom the voice belonged to. “Donovan! It is I!”

  He gasped and the dagger fell to the gravel at her feet. “Illianah!” He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. He looked as if he had just come face to face with her ghost. He swore and then stepped backwards, as if she had pushed him in the chest with all her force, and then he swore again. “How did you? … Where did you? … Holy Deity, Illianah! I thought you were dead!”

  His voice was much too loud for a hidden rendezvous in the middle of the night. When she shushed him, he brought his hand to his mouth, groaned and then shook his head. She had hoped he would embrace her, but instead, he took to pacing like a beast within a tiny cage. He took large steps, back and forth, but never traveled more than a few feet away from her. Once more, he swore, but this time it was quieter. “I did not recognize your hand, and then I saw the ruby and I thought … I thought the worst possible fate had befallen you.” He let out a mighty sigh and seemed to recover from the shock. “I thought you were dead—I thought I had sent you off to yo
ur death.”

  Donovan closed his eyes and let out another sigh. It was as if those added years of misery she had seen etched upon his face when he marched past the inn lit off him like a mighty eagle taking flight. He took a step closer and said, “Why did you not go to the church like I instructed? Why did you not go to any church and claim sanctuary? And why, on earth, are you in the capital of Vieve?”

  She wanted to laugh at his reaction, as he was clearly experiencing a thousand emotions at once, but instead, tears began to fill her eyes. Trying to keep the tears at bay made her feel as if she had been digging a large trench for an entire decade, but she could not keep the dirt from collapsing back into her efforts. She felt her insides cave, as if she could no longer hold up the sides of the trench. She felt weak and disabled; she took a step backwards into the trunk of a large oak tree, hoping to find the support she needed for what she was about to admit. “I could not go back, Donovan. I could not be a part of Burchess. I did not … trust that my father would believe me. He would send me back to Leif. And to be …” she took a deep breath and then said it in a rush, embarrassed to be saying such things to another man, “I would rather die than have to have to be claimed by that monster again.”

  When he exhaled, she could see him bend, as if he was relieved by such news. He stepped forward, coming to the trunk of the tree as well, and stood facing her, his legs touching hers. He reached out for her cheek and gently wiped a tear away. “Oh, Illianah,” he said. “You do not know what it does to my heart to hear you say that.” His eyes looked as bright as the full moon against the blackness of the night. She could see the happiness radiating from his face. His eyes held steadfast on hers and she was no longer ashamed to admit that she had just run away from her husband. From her kingdom. It felt as if Donovan had poured warm tea into her soul. The warmth of his gaze flowed out of her heart and went throughout her entire body, making her feel as if she could melt right into his arms.