The Reign of Trees

by Folkman, Lori

  But she would need food and money. It would be impossible to obtain either with him watching her so closely. Illianah did not feel guilty for betraying the cold and cruel Valencio, nor did she feel guilty for stealing from him as she was not just a common thief: she was stealing to save her soul.

  Her plan was to slip out of her room after Valencio went to bed, but when she retired to her bedchamber that evening, her entire body tensed like she had just been wound tightly in a spider’s web.

  “Monsieur Valencio,” she said, knowing he would be just two steps behind her, “where is my door?”

  “I had it removed,” he said, approaching her from behind, “for the renovation. It needed to be refinished.”

  “And it had to be done today?”

  “Yes. You can have it back after you marry me—that is if you continue to stay in this bedchamber while I am gone.”

  “How will I change into my nightgown?” she asked, hoping he would realize how unfeasible this was.

  “I will not look,” he said, his voice light as if this were a joke.

  “Then I will not change.”

  She went to the room and set her candle upon her nightstand, only to have him follow her into her room. “Why are you in my bedchamber?” she asked, instantly alarmed.

  “I am borrowing your cloak.”

  “My cloak?” Her heart began to beat so loudly she was certain he would hear it and know of her plans. How could she flee into the darkness of the night without her cloak? Just yesterday, Valencio had said that the top of the nearby Soder Pass had seen snow; that was the direction she would be heading.

  “Yes, I need something to keep me warm.”

  She did not understand his meaning until he took the cloak, went into the hallway, and proceeded to lie down on the cold marble floor. He took her cloak, covered his body, and tucked his arms under his head. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “What does it look like I am doing? I am sleeping.”

  Illianah retreated to her bedchamber so he could not see the emotion on her face. She was not certain what that emotion was, but she knew it would betray her plans. She felt crushed. Angry. Scared.

  After she blew out her candle, she fell onto her bed and kept her word about not changing her clothes, which actually did benefit her somewhat. It would be easier to slip out of the room if she did not have to change.

  She lay in her bed and waited. And waited. And waited.

  A few times, she caught herself nodding off. But she never did hear Valencio snore.

  She assumed it to be very late—well past midnight—when she finally crept out of her bed and into the hall. If Valencio awoke, she would make the excuse of being hungry and going for a piece of bread, at which he would follow her to the kitchen and her attempted escape would be thwarted. But she had to try.

  His feet were sprawled across her doorway, and as she stepped over him, she was grateful for many years of dancing lessons as she was able to move sinuously, not making a sound. Her slow, cautious movements took her down the hall and away from Valencio, to the kitchen. She grabbed a loaf of bread off the counter and then went to the dining room where she grabbed two silver candlesticks. They would not be worth much, but it was better than nothing.

  As she passed through the great hall, she took a blanket from the back of one of the old, worn-out chairs and wrapped it around her shoulders before she went to the door.

  She stopped dead with her hand on the doorknob. If she opened that door, it was likely that it would wake Valencio. She did not know if she could run fast enough to get to the stable before him. He would catch her. He would punish her with his firm hand, she was certain of that.

  No Illianah, a voice within her mind said. Not the door.

  She held still and listened for further instructions, but nothing came. She did not know whether she needed to go back to bed to save herself from Valencio’s wrath or if she just needed to find another way to leave.

  A window. Go out a window.

  Valencio’s study had the biggest windows, so she moved in the direction of that room, but she did not know if opening a window would be any quieter than opening the heavy front door. As soon as she stepped into the study, she was hit by a draft of cold air that brought a shiver down her back.

  The window!

  The fire in the study that evening had smoked excessively; Valencio had scolded the servant for bringing in wood covered with moss and demanded that the servant open the window to air the room out. Illianah was supposed to come back to close it, but Valencio had distracted her by following her every move. Since it was already open a few inches, it would be easy to push it open farther without it making too much noise, however this was an old house and everything within it seemed to either creak or groan.

  Ever so carefully, she pushed against the pane. It did creak, but not loudly and only for the first few inches. She held still and listened.

  Nothing.

  No steps in the hallway. No rustling of parchments in the study as the wind blew through. It was as if a magician had put a spell on the estate, forcing everything to remain sleepy and still.

  Illianah stepped through the window, the loaf of bread under one arm and the candlesticks under the other. She stood outside the window and again listened for any signs of arousal. She was safe. No one had heard.

  The window needed to be closed, at least partially, or the breeze would creep throughout the house and wake Valencio. It creaked even louder than it had when she pushed it opened, but she hoped it was because she was standing closer to the hinge outside the window. She did not wait this time to see if the noise had been heard; she ran across the lawn and headed south, toward the stable.

  Clouds covered the sky; Illianah’s heart fell, realizing she would not have the brightness of the moon to guide her as she fled. The moon had been her one comfort—her only beacon—the night she had fled from Deltegra. Tonight, she would have nothing but fear chasing at her back.

  The door to the stable also creaked, but she knew the stable hand slept in the house, as the stable house had been overrun by rats.

  It was black as mud inside the stable and she stood still, blinking, for at least a minute hoping her eyes would adjust. With her hand held out in front of her to make sure she did not bump into anything, she felt for the tack wall and found a saddle and a handbag. She also found a cloak. She did not know who it belonged to, but she suspected it was a man’s and likely threadbare and covered in hay, but it would work better than the blanket.

  She counted the stalls as she went through the stable, not being able to see the horses well enough to know which one was which. Valencio’s finest horses were kept along the back wall, nearest to the large door.

  As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, Illianah could see the rump of a white horse. It was probably the fastest, but it would stand out against the dark night, so she moved on and selected a chestnut mare in the next stall.

  It whinnied as she put the saddle upon its back. “Shhh,” Illianah whispered. “It is all right. We are leaving this wretched place.” She continued to speak softly to keep the animal calm, as Illianah knew nothing would make Valencio wake from sleep quicker than a disturbance in his stable.

  The massive stable door groaned loudly in complaint when she forced it open. She then let go of the door and turned her attention to the horse, which was unfortunate, because the door hit the outer wall of the stable with a loud thud, which then caused the horse to whinny.

  Illianah’s heart raced with such great speed that she was having a hard time catching her breath.

  She quickly shut the stable door and mounted the horse. “Yah!” she said, her voice cutting through the blackness of the night.

  Illianah did not look back—not even once.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was just after dawn when she arrived back in the nation’s capital. She knew she must look a fright—as did her horse—but she could not be concerned about appearances now.
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br />   There was a livery stable near the inn she had stayed at during her previous visit to the capital, but she knew Valencio would look for her there.

  As she walked her horse through the streets of the capital, she found that she was heading toward the palace, which was the last direction she should be going. “A livery?” she asked a passerby.

  “Two streets over,” he said, gesturing to his left, “but you must hurry or you will miss the announcement.”

  “The announcement?” she asked.

  “From the king. A general from Burchess arrived early this morning. They have news of the war.”

  She could not even offer a nod in reply to the man who had helped her. This cannot be good. It felt as if her horse had kicked her in the chest; Illianah wondered if she would survive the next hour.

  The stable boy at the livery scolded Illianah for running her horse too hard. “I had no choice,” she responded curtly. “I must get home. My father is on his death bed,” she lied. She wished that was the truth, because facing a dying father would be much easier than trying to get King Henrick and his son out of the castle of Andoradda before Burchess attacked.

  “You will not be going any farther on this horse; not today at least. You have to let him rest.”

  “I cannot,” she said, her voice sounding thick with tears. “I must leave, quickly. As soon as I hear the king’s announcement. Perhaps … perhaps you would be interested in a trade.”

  The stable boy looked as if he might laugh. “That is a fine horse you are riding. I do not think we have its equal. And I am certain your father will be furious with you when he finds out you have traded his best horse. He might even come off his death bed and beat you.”

  “My ‘father’ will not care,” she said, even though she could envision the rage that would billow from Valencio’s ears when he learns the fate of his horse. “I will take your two best horses for this one.”

  This time, the stable boy did laugh. “Your horse is worth more than one of mine, but it is not worth two.”

  She reached into the saddlebag and produced the two candlesticks. “Perhaps these will cover the difference.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, “but I will not be caught with stolen goods.”

  “They are not stolen.”

  “I have no way of knowing that; plus I am not a barterer. Take them to the market and see how much you can fetch for them, then we will talk.”

  Illianah heaved a mighty sigh, feeling so tired that she might collapse right there in the hay. But she knew she did not have a choice. This stable boy did not know that she was to be treated with respect, as she did look the part of a thief or a runaway. “Very well,” she said.

  Once back on the streets of the city, she got caught up in the crowd as they moved toward the palace. Whispers of speculation flowed through her ears as the citizens tried to guess why the general from Burchess had left the war to visit Vieve. “It must be over,” one woman said.

  “But they have not yet taken the capital,” another woman said.

  “Perhaps they have come to ask for assistance, like the prince did.”

  “They do not need assistance,” one man said, his voice rising above the crowd. “They have Deltegra cornered. My bet is that Deltegra has surrendered.”

  Even though the crowd slowed as they were funneled through the gate to the palace courtyard, Illianah did not stop. She pushed her way forward, knowing she could not miss this announcement.

  ***

  King Reginald stood on the balcony next to a man that Illianah recognized from the courts of Burchess. His name was Lord Lidwell, and he sat on King Gregory’s council. The fact that he was here in Vieve meant that he must have earthshattering news about the war. Illianah knew she was far enough back that he would not recognize her face out of the hundreds of other citizens, but she still stood directly behind the tallest man in her proximity to assure she was not seen.

  After an introduction from King Reginald, Lord Lidwell said, “The war with Deltegra has been intense, and sadly, many causalities have been sustained on both sides. While from the start, we thought Deltegra to be rash and foolish in initiating their attack on us, they did surprise us with the strength and ferocity with which they fought. We give them due credit for their courage and tenacity, however, they will now pay for their acts against the crown and people of Burchess.

  “King Henrick and his son, Prince Henrick, have wisely surrendered. The capital of Deltegra is now under the control of Prince Harrington, in behalf of King Gregory of Burchess.”

  Illianah could hear gasps all around her, but none of them were louder than the sound of her own heart. She cast her eyes to the ground, hoping no one would look in the direction of the painful sound of a dying heart. Surrendered? So soon? She had not expected this. She thought she would have had a few more days before Leif had the castle fully surrounded.

  “King Henrick did not want his people to continue to suffer, so he abdicated his throne to Burchess. For his crimes against Burchess, he has been sentenced to the dungeons of his own castle, where he will see his people prosper under the rule of King Gregory. King Henrick will be reminded daily of the inadequacy with which he ruled his kingdom.”

  It was as if Illianah’s heart had just taken another direct kick from her horse. King Henrick would not survive long in the dungeon; it was likely that her father knew this as well. King Henrick had been sentenced to a cruel, deliberate death.

  “As for Prince Henrick, the charges are quite different. Yes, he helped to instigate the plot against Burchess, and for that he should be sentenced to the dungeon as well. However, he has admitted to helping Princess Illianah of Burchess escape from his castle. He claims he feared for her safety and wanted her to return home to Burchess, yet we believe his acts to be malicious. He knowingly sent a woman—alone—into the forests of Deltegra in the black of night without food or protection. She has not been seen since, and is taken for dead.”

  Illianah could not hear anything over than the sound of her labored breathing. She felt faint. Burchess was blaming her death on Donovan. She closed her eyes and prayed that Lord Lidwell’s next words would not be what she dreaded the most.

  But her prayer was not answered.

  “Prince Henrick must be held responsible for the death of Princess Illianah and punished accordingly. He has been sentenced to death by beheading.”

  It was as if the entire city inhaled at once. Illianah began to tremble uncontrollably. “No,” she whispered.

  “I do understand your astonishment at the sentence, as beheading in Burchess is reserved for the vilest of criminals, but it is our belief that Prince Henrick intentionally preyed upon the trust of our fair princess to lead her away from safety and into the clutches of death. Knowing he could not win the war against King Gregory, Prince Henrick sought to inflict his enemy with the deepest possible pain.

  “Prince Henrick will pay for his crime—with his life—at this time tomorrow in the courtyard of the castle at St. Moraine. His death will be witnessed by the people he hurt the most: King Gregory, Prince Harrington, and the people of Princess Illianah’s beloved city. And, per the request of King Henrick, he will witness the death as well, and then be returned in shackles to Deltegra.”

  A look of smugness lit upon Lord Lidwell’s face, instantly bringing Illianah out of her shock and making her chest burn with rage. How dare they? How dare they do this to two men who committed no crime other than to try to preserve their people from the oppression of her father?

  She wanted to challenge Lord Lidwell. She could step forward and reveal her identity, and prove that the charges against Prince Henrick were without warrant. Lord Lidwell knew her and would not deny that she was the princess, but would he get news to St. Moraine in time to save Donovan from death?

  Illianah took a step forward, ready to call out to Lidwell, but then she turned and ran. It was without question: Burchess wanted Prince Henrick’s death. His father was unwell and would die soon, but
Donovan would live for several more decades and even while locked in a dungeon, he would still pose a threat to his enemies—especially to Prince Harrington, who knew the fondness Prince Henrick had for Illianah. She could not trust Lidwell to save Prince Henrick. She had to do it herself.

  She ran all the way back to the livery even though King Reginald had not yet dismissed the crowd. “I need to go now,” she said as she ran into the stable. The stable boy looked startled at her haste, but she did not care what he thought. “I need those two horses.”

  “How many farlings did the candlesticks fetch?”

  “I do not have time to go to market,” she replied.

  “Then I cannot …”

  “You must. Please, it is most urgent.” The stable hand turned away from her—away from her offer. She wanted to scream and yell and stomp to make him come back. How could he not see that she needed to get to Burchess at once?

  The ruby.

  She kept it in her pocket so she could touch her hand to that tiny piece of Donovan at any time, but now it was needed to keep Donovan alive more than it was needed to calm her troubled heart. “Wait!” she called out.

  The stable boy turned and she held the ruby out in the palm of her hand.

  “Is that stolen as well?”

  “No,” she said boldly. “It was a gift. From Prince Henrick of Deltegra, who was just sentenced to death.”

  The stable boy looked contemplative. “That could fetch you a very high price out in the market, but I have nothing to give you other than horses.”

  “That is all I want. I will give you everything I have so I can take your two horses and go … home.”

  He squinted at her for a moment and then nodded. “Very well. I will get your horses ready.”