by Wendy Wang
Sorrel’s throat bobbed and her dark eyes widened. There had been little time to discuss why Sorrel had come alone, even after offering to bring her…friend? Betrothed? Neala wasn’t sure what Jorgen meant to Sorrel.
“Hello Sorrel,” Cai said extending his hand. Sorrel placed her hand in his and he pumped it up and down gently a couple of times before letting go. “Very nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Sorrel whispered.
Cai smiled, but his eyes tightened and he gave Neala a quizzical glance.
“So, who else is starving? I know I am,” Neala said changing the subject. There would be plenty of time to argue with Cai later. And there would be arguments, of that she had no doubt.
******
Sorrel crept along the hallway. It surprised her when the queen had been so kind and assigned her to a room in the family’s apartment. The queen had shown her the breakfast room, where food was plentiful along with tea and water. She hadn't eaten much at dinner, but her stomach growled waking her and she remembered the bowl of fruit on the sideboard. The queen had told her she could have anything she liked at any time she wanted it.
“Well, just see that it gets done,” a man's voice rang out from the double doors leading to the lower part of the palace. Sorrel stopped, held her breath and listened.
“Yes sir,” another man said. The doors pushed open and Sorrel clung to the wall. A tall man, wearing a black warden’s uniform and a black metal chest plate, swaggered down the hall. His dark wavy hair was short and his blue eyes were sharp on her. He gave her a tight smile.
“Hello,” he said drawing closer. “You must be the guest I was told about. Sorrel is it?”
Breathe Sorrel. Just breathe. She nodded. His sharp chin jutted and his eyes narrowed, looking her over from head to toe.
“I’m Lieutenant Crane,” he said, sounding almost helpful. “There something I can help you find?”
Sorrel swallowed hard and shook her head no.
“Cat steal your tongue?” He chuckled. Her face filled with heat.
“N-n-no,” she said scowling.
“I see.” He smirked. What did he see? Was he a Wood Kael? Was he reading her? “Or maybe you see,” he said. “That's what you do isn't it? You’re a seer?”
Sorrel shrugged and nodded.
“A seer who cuh-cuh-cuh-can't tuh-talk,” he taunted her. “What will they think of next?”
The heat in her face burned hotter and stretched from high on her cheeks all the way to her chest.
“I'm hungry,” she whispered.
“I'll just bet you are,” he said under his breath. He smiled but it never touched his eyes. “There's food in the breakfast room. Third door on the left.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, still clinging to the wall as she moved past him. She picked up her pace and glanced over her shoulder to find him staring at her as she made her way down the hall.
******
Sorrel spread all of the drawings on the floor of the queen’s studio, taking care to put them in order.
“It looks like a big puzzle,” the queen said, crossing her arms.
“It s-sort of is,” Sorrel said and nodded her head, giving the queen a smile. She wished she had the words to explain how the visions worked for her, how they came in a white hot flash of sparks, and how she almost never had the whole picture. None of the seers did.
“Do we start at the beginning or at the end?” The queen asked kneeling down and pointing to the last drawing she received.
“End,” Sorrel said using her full voice. The queen stared up at her, surprise in her dark blue eyes, as if the sound of her voice had shaken her to her core.
“Go on,” the queen said, sitting on the floor, folding her legs beneath her.
“T-two girls,” Sorrel said drawing nearer. She knelt next to the queen and touched the drawing. “Of th-the s-s-same blood.”
“Sisters?” Neala asked.
Sorrel shook her head, shrugged one shoulder and whispered, “Same blood.”
“Family? Cousins?”
Sorrel shrugged again. “M-maybe. It's n-not clear.”
“All right,” the queen nodded. “They’re fighting. Over what? What is this?” Neala touched the broken pieces of lines falling between them.
“Crown,” Sorrel said.
“I see.” The queen’s face paled and became very serious. “Is this me?” She pointed to the figure of the girl with a ponytail.
Sorrel shook her head and swallowed. She leaned forward and pressed her hand against the queen's belly. “Your child.”
All the color drained from the queen's face, her lips turning a pale shade of purple. “So in the future my child will battle another child for the crown?”
Sorrel nodded. Neala gave her a tight smile, touched her arm giving it a slight squeeze. “Thank you Sorrel.” The queen got to her feet.
Sorrel craned her neck, unsure of what to do next. “Do you want to kn-know about th-the others?” Sorrel whispered.
“Not today,” Neala said shaking her head. “I have some things I need to attend to, but you're welcome to stay here to paint or draw. The chair over there against the window is very cozy and there's a pretty view of the courtyard.”
“Th-thank you,” Sorrel said. The queen turned and quickly disappeared through the heavy oak door. Sorrel loved the studio. The long table with all the art supplies she could ever dream of, the easel, the stacks of drawing paper and cupful of long sharpened charcoals just waiting to be used. The queen had promised to help her improve her drawing, but none of it called to her right now.
Sorrel stared at the dozen images laid out before her. One image stood out to her and she reached for it holding it in her hands stroking the dried ink. People building a structure meant for death. She wished the queen had let her start with this one. Of all the drawings this one seemed the most important to her. Sorrel rose to her feet took a drawing pad from the stack on the table, along with a couple of pieces of charcoal, and sat in the cozy chair to make a more detailed drawing. When she saw the queen again, she would make sure she understood, this was the most important vision of all of them.
******
Sorrel pushed open the window in her bedroom to let the raven inside. The bird flapped its wide strong wings circling the room before perching on top of the mirror stand on the desk. Sorrel’s lips curved and she gently stroked the glossy black feathers on its chest.
“Are you hungry?” she said softly, “I have s-something for you.” The bird tilted its head, its glassy black eyes focusing on her. Sorrel removed the fancy silver cover, revealing a plate with several pieces of raw meat. “I've m-missed you. Have you m-missed me?” Carefully she lifted a small hunk of meat up for the bird to take, keeping her fingers out of the reach of its sharp beak. The bird tore at the meat, swallowing it down. There were days this bird and Jorgen were her only friends. “Yes,” she smiled, “I believe you have.”
A sharp rap on the door startled her making the bird ruffle his feathers. He let out a caw. Sorrel put her finger to her lips shushing him. Another knock.
“Miss Sorrel? I know you're in there,” a voice said. “I heard that blasted bird.”
Gordon. He had told her just yesterday birds gave him the shivers and argued when she told him what good pets they made. Sorrel crossed the floor in small, quick steps and turned the lock with a click.
“Good morning Miss Sorrel,” Gordon said. “I trust you slept well. And hopefully not with that bird.” He glanced over her shoulder. The raven cawed again sounding angry. It slapped its wings against its sides before spreading them and flying out the open window.
“You'll n-never make friends with him th-that way,” Sorrel said softly.
“I like my friends human,” Gordon said giving her a smile.
“Is th-there something I can do for you captain?” she asked.
“The queen has requested your presence.”
Sorrel nodded. “Let m-me get m-my drawing pen
cils.”
“I don't think you'll need those where were going,” Gordon chuckled. “I would say that you might want to put on your most comfortable clothes though.”
“Why?” she asked, confused.
“Because we're going to the queen's training room.”
“What is th-that?” Sorrel asked.
“Oh it's a fun place. You'll see. Check your closet there should be something suitable to wear. I'd pick trousers and a light pair of boots if it were me.” He shrugged and winked.
Sorrel gave him a quizzical look but nodded.
“I'll just wait outside.” Gordon crooked his thumb towards the hallway. “Come out when you're ready.”
Sorrel closed the door behind him, went to the closet and pulled out a pair of black trousers and black work boots. She slipped on a simple linen tunic that hit just below her hips. What would the queen be showing her that required a dress code?
Five
Gordon liked to talk which worked out well since she liked to listen. He led her through a maze of hallways, pointing out artwork and architectural details that could only be found in the palace. As they crossed the great hall, their boots echoed off the tall frescoed ceiling. A group of wardens, talking amongst themselves emerged from one of the hallways. Her breath caught in her throat, when Lieutenant Crane locked his crystalline blue eyes on her. His lips curled into a smirk and he nodded at her. She moved closer to Gordon. That was the third time she had seen him in as many weeks and every time, he made her feel like he could see through her. Could he? A shiver crawled across her shoulders.
“Are you cold Miss Sorrel?” Gordon asked.
Sorrel shook her head and threw a glance back over her shoulder. Her stomach twisted into a knot when she found Crane still staring and she quickly forced her eyes forward.
Gordon guided her towards a new hallway and she let out a breath of relief. A climb to the third floor in the older part of the palace put them near one of the towers.
“Well here we are,” Gordon said. He stared up at four gargoyles perched in alcoves carved into the rounded tower. There was no door she could see. Gordon pressed his lips into a flat line and pulled his baton from its holster. “All right Miss Sorrel this is the tricky part.”
She tilted her head a little bemused by him.
“If I pick the wrong gargoyle you and I will end up losing our eyes or possibly being burned to death.”
Sorrel took a step backwards. “Th-then I'd rather n-not go in.”
“I’m just teasing you. I've chosen badly before and lived to tell the tale. If I scream loud enough the queen will come and call them off.”
“Call who off?” Sorrel asked.
“The gargoyles,” Gordon said matter-of-factly, pointing to the stone statues. “They are the guardians of this tower. Nasty little buggers. You see you have to choose the right one to pass into the tower. You wouldn't happen to be able to have a vision to tell me which one to choose would you?”
Sorrel scoffed and shook her head. “No. S-sorry.”
“All right then. You may want to step back for this and if I say run, you run. All right?” he said.
Sorrel moved back several feet, and crossed her arms. She glanced around looking for the closest escape route.
Gordon moved forward to study the gargoyles. He stepped in front of each one. Finally, after several minutes he raised the tip of his baton to the smug looking gargoyle perched on the edge of his alcove. Sorrel held her breath when he touched the baton to its stone claw. The gargoyle grinned down at them and the sound of stones scraping across the floor echoed around them. A door made from part of the stone wall, pushed into the tower and disappeared to the right. Gordon's shoulders drooped a little with relief and he glanced back at her giving her a wide smile.
“Easy peasy.” His dark green eyes glittered. “This way Miss Sorrel.”
She followed him into the corridor and they found a winding stone staircase. A trough of fire ran along the side of the staircase lighting it all the way to the top. “Watch yourself on the steps. They’re quite old and a little slick in the center.” He pointed to the treads. As they drew closer to the top Sorrel heard metal clinking, reminding her of the pretend sword fights the boys in her village used to have when she was a child. “It used to be only the royal family was allowed in here, but her Majesty has changed a few things. She likes company when she practices.”
“P-practices?” Sorrel started but her question was answered as they reached the landing and she looked into the open door. The queen and the chief had locked swords and he was pressing down on her which didn't seem fair because he was so much bigger.
“What are you going to do Majesty? Because if you don’t do something soon, I’m going to slice you into pieces,” the chief said sounding gruff and harsh, not at all like himself. Sweat trickled down the queen's face and she gritted her teeth.
“Probably something like this,” she said deftly balancing on one leg. He pressed harder until she dug her heel into the soft flesh of the side of his knee pushing him off balance. He groaned and dropped his sword. The queen spun out of his grip and pressed the tip of her sword beneath his chin lifting it.
“Now who’s getting cut to pieces?” The queen chuckled. “You just lost your head.”
The chief scowled at her but there was no real malice in it.
“You’re the only person I would ever lose my head to,” he said straightening up and placing his hand on the left side of his chest. “And my heart.”
She lowered her sword from his neck and laughed out loud throwing her head back. “That was awful,” she grinned down at him. “The worst yet.”
“Made you drop your blade though.” He grinned slyly, stepped forward and twisted the sword from her hand. It clattered to the floor and he wrapped his arm around his wife's waist pulling her close and pressing his lips to hers. Sorrel's cheeks heated and even though she wanted to look away she couldn't. Something inside her chest stirred as she watched them and her thoughts went to Jorgen. For all their declarations, he still hadn’t kissed her properly.
Gordon cleared his throat. “All right, all right. We know how in love you are. No need to rub it in.” His tall frame filled the door as he walked into the room and his boots scuffed against the rough stone floor.
“I could put you in the stocks for that sort of attitude captain,” the chief said giving Gordon a pointed look. Sorrel panicked for a moment, unsure if the chief meant what he said.
“Indeed you could Sir,” Gordon said. “But then who would look after you both?”
The queen stifled a laugh. “He's right you know. I'm too much of a pain for anyone else to take on my security duty. Unless you're volunteering chief.”
The chief shook his head and rolled his eyes. A slight smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Looks like you're getting off easy this time.”
“I'm afraid I'll have to be the judge of that,” Gordon quipped. “Miss Sorrel at your convenience, can you join us?”
Sorrel moved into the room and forced a toothless smile.
“How are you today Sorrel?” the queen asked.
“I am f-fine, th-thank you, Your Majesty,” Sorrel said.
“Well, I must go,” the chief said. He placed a heavy hand on his wife's shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. “I'll see you later?”
“Yes, later,” she said meeting his eyes. A sly smile played on her lips.
“All right Captain,” the chief said. He grabbed a white linen towel from a small table near the wall and wiped his face and neck with it. “We have work to do.”
“Yes sir,” Gordon said. He bowed his head to the queen and gave Sorrel a wink. “Don't let her be too hard on you.”
Sorrel smiled and nodded.
“Oh don't listen to him,” the queen said taking a towel from the stack. She wiped her face and neck and forearms. “Cai always gives me quite a workout.” She giggled under her breath and her cheeks grew bright red. She glanced up at Sorrel an
d her face sobered. “So Sorrel do you know why I brought you here?”
Sorrel shook her head.
“I thought since you’re staying here, it might be a good idea to learn a little self-defense,” the queen said. “If you’re open to it, of course and it’s all right if you're not.”
“I am,” Sorrel said surprised by the clarity of her voice as she said the words.
“Good,” the queen said giving her a wide smile. “You Metal Kael, right?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s start with transformation first. See what your skills look like.”
In her village only the boys and men had any weapons training. How surprised Jorgen would be when she wrote him.
“All right,” Sorrel said. “Where should we s-start?”
“At the beginning,” the queen quipped.
******
Neala guided Sorrel to the table against the wall and pulled off a piece of linen covering a tray with several different metal items.
“All right, tell me what you see,” Neala said.
Sorrel grazed her hand over the top of the items. Picking up things, holding them in her hands, feeling their weight. “A th-thimble. Coins. A s-statue. Everyday items. Not of much value.”
“You're right, none of these would make a good trade for bartering. But every single one of them is solid metal. Which means they could be easily transformed into a weapon. I don't want to make you feel like you're going to have to be some sort of warrior when this is over. That's not my intention. What I do want you to walk away with is the knowledge that if you have a coin in your pocket you have a weapon. Something you can strategically put into a leg or somewhere more vulnerable, to give you enough time to get away. Understand?” Neala asked. The girl’s dark brown eyes widened, and she nodded.
“I'm n-not very s-strong,” Sorrel said.
“If you have something sharp in your hand and you know where to put it, you don't have to be strong. You just have to be quick. And I know you're capable of that,” Neala said giving the girl a smile. Sorrel blinked and the shadow of a smile appeared.
