They both smile at her and nod. Neither speak. Halfreda is about to tell them off for their lack of care when she notices something strange about the pair of them. They are both sitting, legs tucked under the same way. They both have a drink in one hand, with the same amount of ale. They have a cake in their other hand and as she watches them they take a bite, at the same time. They are in synch but in a very odd way, as though they are under a curse or a spell.
“Girls!”
They both turn their heads and smile at her. Neither smile reaches their eyes.
Halfreda shakes her head and eats her cake. She is surely just shaken from her vison and her fall. Why would anyone curse her friends or want to put them under a spell?
“So tomorrow is my last day.”
She expects cries of dismay, real tears even, but both girls nod and smile as though it’s the most wonderful news they have ever heard. Frustrated, Halfreda stands up and rushes off – it’s a sign that something is remiss that neither makes a move to follow her.
She crashes through the trees taking her frustration out on the branches, leaves, trunks, and then stops. If she is to leave after just one more day, what does it matter how little her friends have to say or do with her. She is leaving for life in the castle. A life of importance and prestige. She will see neither of them again.
She leans on a tree, closing her eyes and trying to picture a life of relative comfort, magic and royal life. It is hard to do.
“Hello, Halfreda is it?”
Halfreda turns to see Abe smiling benignly at her. He has a strange look on his face too; the same as Nerida an Kinsey. Why would he be checking what her name is? Surely, he knows by now, after she almost threw herself at him.
“I’m sorry. I know that I know you, but I’m feeling a little foggy this afternoon. You really are the prettiest thing.”
Halfreda wrinkles her nose at him. She might be pretty, but so was Nerida and most definitely Ofia. He was – as the teacher warned her – a slimy toad, and she was glad she took the potion that made her see him for what he really was.
“Really. You are.”
Halfreda smiles thinly, a tear slipping down her face. She has no idea why she’s crying, not really. Not for anything she might have lost with Abe – there was nothing there to lose. He was handsome and compelling, but he didn’t like her the same way; he just liked the chase. The fun of it.
She shakes her head. “Thanks, Abe. I’m going now.”
She walks away from him, from Nerida, from Kinsey. She does not want a party. She does not want one more day. Her friends are behaving strangely as is Abe. Her head does hurt from her fall and now she knows she must go, she is ready for it.
She rushes back to the round house, tears blinding her slightly. She finds the teacher in the dining room, drinking ale and gazing at the flames in the fire. He does that a lot.
“I want to go!” She shouts it far louder than she intended.
“What? Why?”
“Nerida and Kinsey are acting strangely, and then I saw Abe in the woods and he couldn’t even remember my name. If I am to go to the castle, if the time for my new life has come, then I do not want to delay. I would go sooner rather than later. Please.”
The teacher nods, taking in what she has said. When a memory spell is performed, the initial side effect, is that all memories are taken. They eventually come back, quite quickly, but in reverse order. Abe and Halfreda’s friend will remember things from long ago, and then they will remember the previous years, then days and then hours. The memory of Halfreda’s prophecy will remain forever buried, but everything else will return. Just not quite yet.
Poor Halfreda, believing no one cares that she is to leave. And yet, what use is there in delaying it? She will never see Nerida or Kinsey again. She may see Abe on his travels – he does love a stay at the castle, in luxury, but it will not be for a long while.
He nods. “I fear that Ofia has been practising spells and maybe caught a few people by accident.”
“That makes sense,” Halfreda says. “But I would still go. Why wait?”
The teacher pauses and cannot think of a good reason to stay. In fact, he can think of good reasons to go. The sooner they go, the sooner they get there. There will be less drama, tears, worry if they head off tonight. “Go to pack. Whatever I decide. If we leave tonight or not, you will need to be packed.”
Halfreda nods and rushes to her room.
Sitting on the floor, with her trunk open in front of her, she closes her eyes. What will her new life be like. What will her new role demand of her. Is she ready? She breathes deeply, and calm washes over her. Calm, clear headed, focussed. She is ready. She can leave behind her childish things – friendships that are destined not to last; first loves, destined to break her heart; the memory of Zanna; the uncertainty about her future; the hatred she has had for her true self and magical abilities.
She is ready to be Halfreda: the wise woman of the castle, closest advisor to the King, killer of Kingmakers. She asks for help, patience, understanding, a long and happy life, a life of servitude, but joy. She is ready for this. She is willing to go.
It is time.
17
Convinced to leave, and packed up before her friends come back and regain their memories of her, Halfreda sits atop a horse, and wipes a tear from her cheek. No one is standing outside to watch her leave. No one is bidding her a fond farewell. Menna has gone to market with Mal. Abe is still wandering – as far as she knows – with little memory in the woods. Her friends have not returned, and Ofia is busy in the teacher’s work room.
Halfreda feels sad now that what she wanted has come to pass. A party would have been nice. Tearful hugs and promises to never forget each other would have been preferable to this miserable send off.
And yet...what will be, will be. This is it. She asked to go and go they will.
The teacher has no need of a guide or a guard. He has performed spells on himself and Halfreda, they will get to the castle without delay or issue. There will be no problems or setbacks, just a smooth and quick journey, with the wind at their backs.
“Ready?”
Halfreda nods. Has her time in the round house really come to an end like this? Sloping off as though she has something to hide.
The teacher senses her hesitance. “Halfreda, when you asked me earlier if you could leave straightaway, my instinct was to say no. I felt like you needed to stay, say goodbye properly, and yet that is the nature and the joy of this little house. There are visitors we have had since you have been here, and I would bet you cannot remember their names. Even my charges never stay long. It is not a place for long term residence; it is a place to pass through. Only Menna and Mal dwell here permanently, and I know they will be sad to have missed you. Mal has asked me to tell you that he blames you not for what happened with Zanna. Menna says the same.”
Halfreda takes a deep breath. That is good to hear.
“Really. All are welcome here. But most are just visiting. You will remember your friends and Abe – even Zanna. They might come into your mind, and then they will go again. They are not part of your future. I am. I will visit you even after I leave you. This is life, Halfreda. People come and go and only ourselves are constant. Love your own company, be happy in your own skin and you will do well. You are ready. Let’s go.”
Feeling infinitely better, Halfreda refuses to turn and look at the round house one last time. She has no need of it. Her childhood is over. Her time here is over. It is time for the next part of her life. And she is so excited by it. More than ready for it.
The horses canter happily away, fed and watered, fuelled ready for their journey. The teacher plans one stop and then a late arrival at the castle tomorrow. They will have a good trip and the King will be glad to see them.
They are silent as they travel, each lost in their own thoughts. The teacher feels anxious for his brightest charge. She will have to learn of the prophecy and her role in testing the Kingmaker
s. She will need to test Isla and if she is not the prophesised one, Halfreda will have to sacrifice her. He will stay with her for the first one. He will hold her hand and guide her through the celebrations and the sacrifice. He knows it is what she’s made for, but he worries for her none the less.
Halfreda thinks only of the journey. She doesn’t allow her mind to dwell over her past or panic about her future. She watches the trees, the road, the people. She enjoys the feel of the horse and the fresh air. She focusses only on what she is living through until the teacher tells her it is time to stop.
They eat and drink and head straight to their rooms. The stable boys who live at the inn will look after the horses and ensure they are ready for a long day of riding tomorrow. Halfreda just wants to sleep. The teacher bids her good night and gives her a sleeping draught. “Take it, you haven’t slept a night alone in a long time and even a warm room can feel cold when you are used to company.”
Halfreda does as she is bid and drinks it down, happy to listen to the teacher again. Will she regain her free will when he leaves her at the castle? Not really – her life will become the King’s to control. And yet there is a strange sort of peace in the kind of life she is heading to.
Always a clean bed, a warm bed. Always food to eat. Always something to do. No big decisions to make. She will fall in love, she can feel it, but she will never take a husband. The King – however many she puts upon the throne – will be her master. And she will happily serve each one to the best of her ability. And her abilities are phenomenal. She will do well at the castle and enjoy herself. She drifts off to sleep with these assurances in her head. All is well. All will be well.
After a good, deep, dreamless sleep, Halfreda dresses and meets the teacher for breakfast. He is in good spirits, laughing with the innkeeper and he greets her jovially when she sits down. “What would you like to eat?” Without waiting for her answer, he asks the innkeeper for a little bit of everything he has, with some wrapped up for the journey.
Halfreda smiles. “I will never take a husband.”
“No, you will not.”
“But I will love and be loved.”
“That’s right.”
“I am ready.”
The teacher smiles. “I know. I can see a difference in you this morning. I want you to step into this role with authority, Halfreda. Don’t second guess yourself. Don’t question if you are getting it right, making good choices – you will be. For everything you do is right, because you have done it. Trust. Everyone looks to the wise woman and although I have told the King how much faith I have in you, there will be some who question such a young wise woman. The King, the Queen, three princes and a Kingmaker – that is a lot to take on. They will need your guidance, and I will make sure you know exactly what is expected from you before I leave you. But I beg you, act with the absolute knowledge that you are where you should be and that you are doing what you should be.”
She nods. “I will. I can do it.”
They are silent as they eat – the innkeeper filling their table with a huge array of meats, breads, cakes, even some fish.
The teacher wipes his mouth and finishes his ale. “It is time.”
She takes her place atop her horse with confidence. By night fall she will be at her new home.
The teacher is next to her on his horse, a package in his hands. “This is for you.”
She unwraps a beautiful thick dark cloak, blacker than black, softer than soft. “It’s beautiful.”
“There is something about a wise woman. She is mysterious, all knowing, her ways are not always clear. A cloak...adds to that.”
Halfreda grins. “Like a costume.”
“Like a shield. When you put that on, you are more than just you, you are Halfreda. Wise woman of the castle.”
She puts it on, slipping the hood over her head, and she understands then that he has imbued the cloak with some magic. Something to help her. She can feel it. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome. Let’s go.”
They ride quickly, easily, stopping under the shade of a tree for two meals. When they arrive at the castle, it is dark and the sun is setting.
At first sight of it, ahead and up the hill, Halfreda feels like she might be sick; there are more than just butterflies in her tummy. The swooping, sick feeling of responsibility is back. She takes a deep breath.
It looks magnificent. Looming but elegant, sturdy but welcoming. She pulls her cloak tightly around her and nods at the teacher.
She may not be ready, she may want to turn her horse around and flee, but she has a strong feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she knows that she is home.
18
A stable boy greets them once the guards let them into the courtyard. Everyone recognises the teacher and Halfreda is glad to lurk behind him, watching and waiting, taking everything in. A servant in the finest livery steps out of the castle and together they follow him inside.
Halfreda cannot keep up with them because she wants to look at everything within the castle. There are beautiful tapestries adorning the walls, elegant ladies bustling around, wonderful smells coming from behind closed doors. There are so many people milling around and, as they turn into a great hall, Halfreda is suddenly overwhelmed. There are more than a hundred people, queuing up to petition the King, gathered in groups chatting and laughing. There is music playing, ale being passed around. She can see too many things, hear too many things, and she is also privy to too many people’s thoughts. There are spirits jostling for her attention as well and just as she feels her palms start to sweat, her vision clouds over. The teacher touches her back to propel her forward. He passes her a tiny vial of liquid. “Drink, before you pass out.”
She does as he says and instantly feels better. The rush of silence as her head clears is astounding. The hubbub quietens down to a dull roar instead of a deafening one. The brightness of the clothes, drapes and tapestries, and glare of jewels, dims and her eyes don’t hurt anymore. The spirits back off, just enough that she can breathe easily, and then she sees the King.
He is sitting on a throne, a splendid creation of gold set with precious stones. He is wearing a crown on his head and a cape of fur. He smiles at his people, watching his subjects with good humour on his face. He turns to speak to his Queen, making her laugh with whatever he sees and Halfreda smiles. They are happy and in love – she can tell. There are three princes sat beside him and a young girl on the other side, next to her mother the Queen.
The Kingmaker. Isla.
Halfreda shudders as a blur of red swims across her vision.
“Halfreda, meet your King.”
The King sees the teacher and leaves his throne. The great hall around them becomes quiet, as everyone turns to see why the King is on the move.
He greets the teacher warmly after the teacher bows to him. His gaze turns to Halfreda, and she curtsies as steadily as she is able. She can feel herself shaking. The King’s gaze isn’t friendly as he looks her over. He is assessing her, finding her wanting.
She tries to stand steady and tall, to remember that the teacher believes she should be here. This isn’t something she has decided herself that she might like to try. She has been brought here by the teacher. He is in awe of her magic. She might have to prove herself in this court, but she could do it.
“Hello, little witch.”
Halfreda bristles at his tone, definitely patronising and tinged with humour. He is making fun of her. “Welcome to your new home. Marby was a wonderful wise woman and she has kept me safe my whole reign – and my father before me. You have big shoes to fill.”
Halfreda nods her head, keeping her gaze low and her demeanour deferential. She is young, and he is the King. She can understand why he might question her taking this position. And yet he must trust the teacher, or she wouldn’t be here.
“I look forward to serving you, your majesty.”
The King nods and smiles at the teacher, an eyebrow raised. He beckons a lit
tle maid – too young to be a proper maid, a handmaiden or a lady in waiting, but old enough to do fetching and carrying throughout the castle. “Bring food and drink for our guests.”
He calls a guard and tells him to clear the room. He will see no more people today.
Halfreda watches the absolute authority with which he rules and smiles. To be so sure of yourself must be a wonderful thing – to never second guess yourself or doubt your abilities. Born to rule and filled with confidence from an early age, she can see the same easy assuredness when she watches the princes. Confident, handsome, with the easy life of royalty, they look good. The Kingmaker is different. She has an air of sadness around her, to Halfreda the very space next to her is a different colour to everything else. There is a bluey-pink haze around her, she cannot think of a way to describe it, but she sees it around some people. Not everybody, but around this girl, yes. This girl she will kill. She feels cold as she thinks it, but then she is ushered along by the teacher, following the King and his family to another room; a smaller room.
Food is set out on a table – gold plates, jewelled goblets and exquisite food. She sits and eats, still feeling she hasn’t met the mark, that she has failed before she has even begun. The princes and the Kingmaker sit with the Queen on plump chairs and settees across the room and Halfreda can hear them talking in quiet voices. Her ability allows her to amplify their voices and unbeknownst to them she can hear what they are saying, “Dowdy.” “Plain.” “Unremarkable.” “Nothing special.” She tunes out quickly, a hot blush covering her face and when the teacher turns a question gaze on her she looks down at her plate and doesn’t look up again.
They are all judging her and finding her wanting – not just the King. And yes, she might be dowdy and plain, in her plain clothes and black cloak, but who could compare to any courtier, let alone a member of the royal family. Even the little maids and the other servants are splendid in their livery. The colours are a little brighter, the fabrics richer – even the meat on her plate is the best thing she has ever tasted – extra special, like it has some magic in it. She is blinded by how wonderful all of it is.
The Kingmaker Prophecy Page 9
