by Meg Cowley
Edmund smiled. “Do not mistake me for chiding you. I wish to make certain in my own mind that you are resolute in yours. The monastery is not far. After tomorrows ride, which is as far as we have come today, you will be within an hour or two’s ride of the monastery. Tomorrow night I suggest you ride for the monastery after we part. Breaking on the cross roads is far too great a risk.”
“I would rather arrive at the monastery in daylight to avoid ambush.” Soren frowned.
“I agree,” Edmund acquiesced, “however it is more important to distance yourself from the crossroad. I would ride as close as you dare to the monastery and then camp off the road, as we are now, overnight. Then, come the following dawn, you can ride to the monastery openly. There should be no danger there.”
“You will not come with me?” Soren asked.
Edmund shook his head. “I must seek help from Arlyn. The swifter I depart, the sooner I return. I may yet outrun Zaki himself and rejoin you in any case. You will come to no harm at the monastery – I would trust the abbot and his brothers with my life.”
Demara
Silence blanketed the room, broken by the delicate clinking of silver cutlery upon the finest porcelain tableware. Save for her lady and his manservant waiting inconspicuously outside the dining room, they were alone, yet it was no intimate dinner at opposite ends of the large table. The gilded ceiling towered above them and tall windows let light stream in. It still felt dark, cold and unwelcoming compared to her homeland, Roher.
“How fares your business, husband?” Demara attempted to strike up a conversation. Confined to her quarters for safety, she had heard little news that week, nor seen much of her husband. Tonight was the first night he had dined with her in weeks and yet he remained as silent and closed towards her as ever.
Zaki looked up, surprised that she had spoken. “It goes well enough,” he replied, terse. Meeting her glance, he laughed – a short, sharp bark – at the uncertainty in her eyes. ”You are safe, fear not, and I shall be king.”
Demara quietened again although her mind buzzed with questions. Does that mean I am to be queen? Does that mean I can never return to my home…? “Have you found…?” She dared not name Soren in case she awakened Zaki’s short temper.
“No,” he replied, his attention returned to his food.
“What of the princess?” she dared to ask, laying her hands across her belly. The luxurious silk slid beneath her fingers over the bulge of her stomach. She knew what it was to be a pawn of men – bound to the fate of their choosing – and she pitied the girl. She prayed yet again that her unborn child would be a son free from the same shackles as she.
He dumped his cutlery on the plate with a crash. “Good God, still your tongue from all these questions!” She met his gaze, although she made sure not to appear too brazen. His glance softened as he saw her hands. “I forget; your condition makes you weaker. Do not concern yourself with the girl.”
“I only pity that she—”
“Demara,” Zaki addressed her with a warning tone, “the girl is a danger to you and our son. Feel no pity for her. Whilst she lives, I may not be secure upon the throne.”
“So you will kill her?” Demara asked, her voice quiet. Surely, he would not…
“I have not yet decided her fate,” Zaki admitted. “It is her brother who concerns me more.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed back his chair. “I am done. I bid you good night. I will sleep alone tonight.” With that, he called for his servant and left her alone in the gloom.
Demara lay her cutlery down on her plate with the quietest chink, her appetite lost.
Behan
Zaki’s mood was buoyant. A grin stretched his face as he stood in the company of law readers, the lord steward and other witnesses from the royal court upon the dais. Banners bearing his sister’s crest bedecked the hall. Behan suspected they would soon be removed. He replaced the quill in the ink well; the drying ink shone brightly against the parchment before the Lord Heligan blotted it with utmost care and handed the document to one of his peers in exchange for the next.
“Witness ye all, on this the nineteenth day of the fifth month of this year the formal appointment of His Royal Highness Prince Zaki of Caledan as Regent Royale and Legal Guardian of Her Royal Highness Princess Irumae of Caledan until the day she comes of age,” Heligan said as his partner held up the deed for all to see the fresh signatures of Zaki, himself and the Lord Steward upon it.
The next document lay stretched out upon the ornate table. Behan kept his expression clear, though he wished he could burn every document prepared for that day.
“This document relinquishes the place of Her Royal Highness Princess Irumae in the royal succession on the grounds of her ill health,” Heligan said. “I call upon her guardian to sign this document on her behalf in her absence.”
“I shall sign for her,” replied Zaki, stepping forward to take up the pen again.
“I call upon the Lord Steward of Pandora to bear witness to this,” Heligan called.
“I shall bear witness to this,” Behan said. He forced down his reluctance and stepped forward to take up the gilded quill. Smile. Keep smiling. This can be undone. This will be undone. Please God let it be undone.
“I sign myself to confirm this matter has been conducted in a legal manner.” Heligan took his turn, refusing to meet Behan’s eye. “Witness ye all, on this the nineteenth day of the fifth month this year the formal renouncement of any claim to the throne of Caledan by Her Royal Highness Princess Irumae, now to be known as the Lady Irumae of Pandora.”
The third and final document now lay upon the table.
“This document acknowledges His Royal Highness Prince Zaki of Caledan as the Heir Apparent to the throne of Caledan, in the absence of His Royal Highness Prince Soren of Caledan following the death of Her Majesty Queen Naisa, first of her name, may she be at peace and with God.” Heligan paused for breath. “I call upon the Regent Royale to sign this document in place of any monarch or heir.”
“I shall sign as Regent Royale,” said Zaki, signing swiftly.
“I call upon the nominated Heir Apparent to sign in acceptance of these terms,” Heligan said, before Zaki released the quill.
“I shall sign as Heir Apparent,” said Zaki, signing again.
“I call upon the Lord Steward of Pandora to bear witness to this.” Heligan called Behan forward.
“I shall bear witness to this.” Behan signed the document, his face impassive.
“I sign myself to confirm this matter has been conducted in a legal manner.” Heligan completed the formalities. “Witness ye all, on this the nineteenth day of the fifth month this year the formal appointment of His Royal Highness Prince Zaki of Caledan as Heir Apparent to the throne of Caledan.”
Behan stepped forward. “Please make your way to the great hall for drinks to toast His Royal Highness Prince Zaki, the good health of the Lady Irumae and the memory of Her Majesty Queen Naisa.”
The crowd moved along, murmuring and he made to follow, but a hand on his arm stopped him. Behan turned to find Zaki grasping his forearm painfully. “Your Royal Highness?” he questioned. Did I not sound cheerful enough about you stealing Caledan’s throne?
“Leave,” Zaki commanded the few stragglers, who hurried to obey. He released Behan’s arm and the steward stepped back slightly. “Why did you have a medical examination conducted upon the girl?” He glared at the older man.
Behan swallowed, trying to compose himself. “The law readers advised it a necessary precaution prior to the signing of the regency and changes in succession, sir,” he improvised. That scheming physician ran straight to Zaki.
“Do not interfere with my niece.” Zaki’s eyes narrowed.
“I would not dream of it, sir,” Behan stammered.
“She will be moved for her own safety and wellbeing today. If I hear you have attempted to see her again, you will be severely punished. Do I make myself clear?”
“Certainly, s
ir. I meant no offence.”
“I am sure.” Zaki scowled. “In any case, I am soon to be King of Caledan. I want the entire city to know that Soren and Irumae have been retired from the succession and that I will ascend the throne. You are to organise my coronation as swiftly as possible after mourning ends. It is your duty to ensure this runs smoothly and you I will hold personally accountable for any hitches. Go.”
Behan bowed and departed as swiftly as possible, his heart hammering.
Edmund
Hooves drummed upon the road. Disorientated and half asleep, Edmund and Soren shrank into the earth, before rising to settle the horses. Miri and Arkan stood with heads turned towards the road and ears pricked. The noise passed. The forest fell quiet again before the sounds of bird and insect life crescendoed. Soren’s eyes mirrored Edmund’s own apprehension.
“We had best keep moving,” said Edmund. “Damn the thickness of foliage here that we must use the road. We have been lucky so far. I hope our good fortune continues.”
All was silent upon the road as Soren scouted ahead. Without further delay they mounted and rode on. The road was too busy for comfort, setting their nerves on edge. As the main thoroughfare from Pandora to the north of Caledan, it was frequented by many.
Each time others approached in the distance, they made off the road, deep into the trees and led the horses on foot until the danger had passed. Progress was slow, but as Edmund put it to Soren after a branch had slapped him in the face for the fourth time that morning whilst charging off the road, some progress was better than none.
The horses were tired and their pace slower. Despite this, they reached the crossroad an hour before dusk. They had been travelling for an hour on foot through the woods, to avoid approaching it in the open. Sure enough, when Edmund scouted ahead, sentries loitered outside the crossroads inn, laughing and idling about. The road lay in plain sight and they were well placed to spot the comings and goings of anyone who passed whether or not they took the care to look.
After some deliberation, Edmund decided to continue with Soren some distance further. “We are on the north side of the road now, as is the monastery. We will bear north, until it is safe for me to cross the road and bear south again,” he told Soren.
“It is unfortunate, though expected that Zaki has so many sentries in full view,” Edmund said. “Although he may not leave the capital himself for another four days, the army will now have fallen under his control and he will be sure to have his web of men as spread as far and wide as possible. We must be careful.”
An hour later under the cover of dusk, they parted.
“Good fortune, Soren,” Edmund said. He stepped forward to embrace Soren. “You will be fine,” he continued, almost to reassure himself, but he could not see any trouble now they were so close to safety. “Just follow the road north and you will find the monastery. Wait for me there. I will come for you as soon as I may. It should be three days ride to Arlyn and three back so look for me in a week.
“If Zaki arrives, I am not sure what to advise you. The abbot is the wisest man I know and he shall guide and guard you – of that, I have no doubts. However, if the need arises, you must flee. This is no time for bravery and heroics; you must remain alive for the good of the realm. I know it may not be the easiest decision, but this is my advice. It will not happen – but just in case.” I leave him in safer hands than my own behind those walls.
The prince opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and shook his head. “You are by far wiser than me and so I must trust that you would know best in this,” Soren said. “I will try and follow your advice, though it goes against my heart.”
Edmund smiled with relief. “Well here we are at the parting of the ways, then. We should delay no longer. Good luck and God keep you safe, Soren.”
“And God keep you.”
They inclined their heads to each other and led their horses in opposite directions. Edmund watched the prince’s back fade into the gloom and silently blessed him, hoping above all else that they would meet again – that he would make it to Arlyn and back alive, unharmed and unhindered.
Eve
“Come on, keep up!” Eve laughed over her shoulder. She pressed her legs into the flanks of her horse, who lengthened her stride. The mare danced around tree trunks and leapt over exposed roots with uncanny agility as the two stallions tried to keep pace.
They burst through the edge of the forest, which thinned abruptly to become open moorland bathed in bright sun. Eve reined in her horse before she lost herself in the heather, long grass and maze of rabbit holes and hidden hazards that could easily lame the mare. She admired the view whilst waiting for her guards to catch up.
“Eve, you must stop doing that!” The older guard scolded her as they drew up beside her. His younger counterpart reined in his horse behind.
Eve grinned at him with no contrition. “Sorry, Nyle. You know how I like to give Alia a free head. She’s so quick!” She dismounted and gave the horse a treat and a pat.
“Who’s that?” the younger man said. They turned as one to follow his pointing hand. The moor rolled away from them down into the valley, so they could see the road winding its way to Arlyn, the town nestled in the mountain foothills next to the glinting Arrow Lake. Despite the distance, the day was crisp and clear and they could see a dark-cloaked figure rushing towards the town.
“I’m not sure, Luke. Perhaps it’s a dispatch rider,” said Eve. “How long will it take us to return?”
“Not long,” Luke replied. He shaded his eyes against the sun to see the figure better. “We should certainly reach Arlyn before him if that’s your intention.”
“Let’s return,” said Eve, unable to hide her interest. She mounted and Alia sprang into motion, wheeling around to ride home.
“Wait for us!” Nyle cried fruitlessly as he waited for Luke. “For God’s sake,” he grumbled and urged his horse to follow her without waiting for his counterpart to regain his saddle.
She did not return using the wandering path up into the hills and back down to Arlyn keep but instead followed the fringe of the forest west for the swiftest return. Ground nesting birds exploded out of the undergrowth, protesting as she crashed past them.
The dark rider was lost to sight now behind another rolling hill. As they both drew closer and their paths converged on Arlyn, he came into view again. Arlyn’s old walls loomed before her and she turned up the hill to race alongside them, away from the main gate and the road that would take the stranger through the winding, cobbled streets of the town.
Nyle hailed her from a distance, but Eve did not slow. The two stallions did not have the same sure footing as her mare and she knew her companions were forced to turn aside. They would have to make for the main gate, which would buy her time to reach home, change her clothing and spy on the stranger from the stables before they returned.
Alia danced up the embankment, somehow finding footing on the steep grounds, until they were on the outcrop far above the wall. For a moment, Eve paused to catch the beautiful view of Arlyn. The town sloped away towards the glittering water; it was a sight that never failed to lift her heart. After a moment, she moved on. From there, she could enter the keep gardens and ride unseen to the stables.
An alarmed stable hand dived out of her path as she rode into the stable without dismounting. She leapt from Alia and dashed upstairs to the loft. The stable-boy shook his head as he led the mare to her stall. Eve was already in the loft, batting straw hastily off the crumpled dress she had discarded there hours before. Not bothering to take off her riding pants and boots, she forced the dress over her head and shook herself into it and gave herself a cursory glance to check it was not back to front before she climbed down.
She had changed just in time for Nyle and Luke’s return. Nyle opened his mouth indignantly and paused, thrown off guard by her change of attire. Luke stifled a chuckle as he dismounted. He grinned at her behind Nyle’s back whilst she smoothed her dress.
Before Nyle could chastise her, the dark-cloaked figure rode into the courtyard, hood down. “Sir Edmund!” she cried with surprise as she beheld the familiar face.
Edmund
Her bright voice startled Edmund. He twisted in his saddle to see Eve running towards him. Soiled boots hid beneath the folds of her skirt – ordinarily, he would have chuckled. Edmund dismounted and turned to greet her as the gates thudded shut behind him.
“Lady Eve.” He inclined his head as he appraised her. She had grown much since their last meeting, now slim and tall, although she still fell short of his height. Her features had sharpened from a child’s to a young woman’s and she had tamed her once flyaway golden hair into a long plait. She held none of the decorum and reserve he would expect from the heir of such an old house, but he appreciated her open affection.
"It’s been so long! I didn’t know you were coming. How are our cousins keeping? I can’t wait to hear your news! Sir Edmund?" Her smile faltered at his frown.
"I would appreciate immediate audience with your father, Lady. I apologise for the rudeness of my unannounced visit, however it is a matter of the utmost importance, and I cannot tarry."
Eve’s smile faded and she gestured for him to follow her. She hurried through the keep, down long passageways and up narrow staircases. Her long dress snatched at her ankles as she strove to stay ahead of Edmund's long strides. They approached a metal-studded, heavy wooden door, guarded by two armoured men. Eve rapped on the door and then heaved it open before the men could step in to assist or announce her presence.
Luxurious rugs covered the wooden floor, high windows gave views of the town and lake below and tapestries depicting the changing seasons of Arlyn covered the walls. Near the empty stone hearth was a desk, covered in parchment sheets and a variety of paraphernalia. From behind it, Lord Karn of Arlyn stood, his eyes surprised as he moved to greet Edmund.
