Since that fateful trial, Caldwell assigned her to many of his special cases. Her current assignment involved a disease spreading among the impoverished citizens of Aldron. Caldwell nicknamed the disease "crow's blight". The illness affects a patient’s lungs and results in a miserable, hacking cough along with a fever that could bring on hallucinations. Many believed the sickness was supernatural. Stories of Draknoir acolytes hexing the city's poor with the disease spread fast. But Caldwell was not a superstitious man. He hypothesized that the growing plague had something to do with the poor sanitation in the peasant district of Aldron. Ever since the first attack from the dragons, the peasantry suffered incalculable losses. Many of the residences in the district were in a state of disrepair and many perished during the cold months from exposure and crow's blight. Violet had her own theories about the disease and she noted that it resembled a similar sickness which spread in Sylvania several years ago. She made a mental note to look further into the connection.
“But I do not wish to despair this evening by speaking of Memnon, Kraegyn, and their filth. Instead, let us celebrate our victories against those who have threatened our livelihoods.” Silas' words interrupted her thoughts. The king inhaled deeply and scanned the room. Violet could see he was gauging the mood of the crowd, finding the right words. “Tonight I also wish to make an announcement. In recent months, I have found the woman whom I wish to wed and bestow upon the mantle of queen.”
There was a collective gasp among the crowd. Hushed voices spread throughout the hall as each table burst with excitement at whom this lady might be. Silas lifted a hand to quiet them. At once everyone stopped speaking, and the hall fell deathly quiet. Violet believed everyone in the room could hear the drum drum drum of her heart pounding feverishly inside her chest.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Aldron, I introduce you to my betrothed Lady Violet Pulfer,” Silas said. He extended his left arm toward her and nodded in her direction. It was a signal for her to stand, take his hand, and enjoy this moment.
But as she stood, she sensed the confusion in the room as whispers spread throughout the tables. The words were easily decipherable to her.
“Isn’t she a peasant?”
“The herbalist?”
“She’s not a noble woman! How dare he sully the kingdom with a commoner?” Another woman whispered.
Violet took Silas' hand and cringed with each whisper and accusatory stare. Silas looked on at the crowd, his face remaining neutral and stoic despite the idle talk.
Beside them, Duke Weifar stood and raised a glass to toast the occasion. “Let us drink to our king’s lifelong marital bliss and to the lovely woman who has accepted his proposal,” he said. “To the king and queen of Aldron!”
Everyone seated at the royal table raised their glasses in unison and repeated the words before sipping their wine. But Violet noticed many seated in the hall did not raise their glasses and some even crossed their arms in defiance of the engagement. The awkward silence following the toast only added to her concerns about their decision. Feeling her eyes watering, Violet released Silas' hand then rushed out of the hall, taking the nearest exit by the dais. She reached the stairs down the hall before Silas’ voice echoed behind her.
“Violet, please stop,” he said.
When she stepped onto the first landing of the stairwell, his hand clutched her wrist. “Let me go, Silas. I can’t handle this — I’m not made for it.”
“Please just talk to me. We knew this would happen. The nobility hates anything that upsets their order.”
Violet turned to face him, tears streamed down her cheeks. “Knowing it and experiencing it are two different things. Did you see their faces? I saw hate and jealousy and...”
“I saw it too. But that comes with being royalty. People hate you, they question your authority, and your decisions. We must rise above it.”
She shook her head. “This isn’t a disagreement about matters of state, Silas. They genuinely loathe your choice of a mate. None of those nobles respect me nor will they ever see me as queen. And honestly, I don’t know if I can bear that crown. I’m just an apothecary from Sylvania.”
Silas smiled. “I know. That’s the woman I fell in love with. I don’t care that you’re not of noble blood or that you don't have experience in politics. I only wish you to be at my side. Being a king complicates that, I know. But if I must relinquish this crown to spend my days with you, I will do it. Without question.”
More tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. But were from the joy she felt at his words. No man had ever expressed such devotion to her. And as she looked into his deep blue eyes, she felt as though she could drown in them. But the matter of becoming queen still terrified her. The role could easily suffocate her with its demands. If only she could prove her worth to those nobles — to the people of Aldron. Then an idea formed in her mind. She shared it without regard to what Silas might think.
“I need to serve this kingdom before I can become its queen,” Violet said.
“I’m not sure I follow,” Silas replied.
“Before you were king, you were a warrior prince. You fought against the Draknoir and protected the province of Joppa from her enemies. I must do the same. But not with a sword. I can serve Aldron by saving the common folk of this city from the crow's blight.”
Silas frowned. “Crow's blight? The disease affecting the poor? Caldwell is already fighting that battle. You needn’t get involved.”
"Silas, if you love me as much as you say, you will let me use my talents to prevent a plague from hurting your people. The noblemen in that hall care little for the infirmities of the poor, but they will be also affected if this disease spreads to their districts."
The King sighed heavily, placing his hands on his hips. She had seen the gesture before. It was a sign that he felt conflicted on the matter.
“How exactly can you stop the illness from spreading when Caldwell has nearly exhausted his resources?” He asked.
“Crow's blight is very similar to an epidemic that hit Sylvania five years ago. I was at the forefront of that affliction. Many lives were lost, but I learned valuable lessons in my craft. I discovered an herb known as talo root that could alleviate the symptoms of the disease and eventually help those afflicted to fight it off. So I planted and cultivated dozens of that specific herb in the garden next to my cottage just in case the disease struck again. If crow's blight turns out to be the same illness, I could fetch the talo root and stop another epidemic.”
“And if it isn’t the same disease? How can you know?” Silas asked.
“Caldwell and I just need to visit the quarantined tenements to study those who are suffering from it. I’m confident that with enough study and diagnosis we can find a cure,” she explained. The proposal certainly had merit, but Violet could sense the trepidation in Silas.
“You would subject yourself to a disease that might infect you? I cannot condone this. How could I live with myself if you become infected and find no link between crow's blight and the disease you helped cure?”
Violet stepped closer to him and placed her hands in his own. “Silas, you place yourself in danger every time you wield your sword against those who threaten this kingdom. Doesn’t the queen who stands by your side need to do the same? Please. Let me do this.”
Silas looked into her eyes and let his shoulders slump in defeat. He knew she was right. “All right. You have my... permission to work further with Caldwell on this.”
Violet smiled. “I didn’t need your permission, King Dermont.”
Silas raised an eyebrow.
“You might be a king, but if our marriage is to last, you will accept a simple truth. A strong woman stands behind every man,” she said with a grin.
“Ah, I see. Somehow I recall my mother saying the same thing to my father when I was a boy. I suppose it’s a wise statement.”
“You’d do well to remember it, my dear husband-to-be.”
Silas nodded and offered
a bemused smile. He gestured behind him to the great hall. “Will the strong woman accompany her suitor to the banquet now?”
Violet shrugged. “I suppose. But once I’ve finished my meal, I’m leaving. I can only stand the snobbery of your guests for so long.”
“As you wish, my darling wife,” Silas said in a nasally voice reminiscent of the nobility. He bowed then offered his arm to escort her.
She hooked her arm with his then slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “Maybe I was too hasty to accept this engagement.”
Chapter 5
The bright light of the full moon shone through the thick canopy of trees within Ithileo forest giving an ethereal aura to the mist hovering above the woodland. A mother deer and her fawn settled along a brook and dipped their heads to take a drink. The serene animals suddenly cocked their heads up in unison at the sound of something approaching in their direction. Keenly aware of the threat to herself and her offspring, the mother deer bounded across the brook and the fawn followed dutifully. The deer disappeared into the mass of trees just as Siegfried and Ravenmane stumbled upon their watering spot. Ravenmane felt exhausted and nearly crashed onto the floor as Siegfried loosed his grip on her waist. For the past day, they had traversed the thick forest without stopping to gain a sufficient lead on their pursuers. The Draknoir were relentless in their hunt for them. They only stopped to camp once earlier in the day. Siegfried believed it would be their only opportunity to lose them, so they pressed onward to Ravenmane’s perpetual disdain. She never traveled to on such long journeys in the wilderness, especially not when wounded.
“Let’s make camp here tonight,” Siegfried said.
She managed a nod, but her neck muscles punished her with pain for the effort.
The elf helped her sit on the ground beside a tree. A deep sense of satisfaction rushed over her as she leaned her back against the tree and sighed. A twinge of pain ran up her leg, ruining the moment. For the majority of their flight, the wound hadn’t troubled her. The breakneck pace Siegfried insisted upon had pushed her adrenaline to the limit and numbed the pain in her body. Tearing the loose fabric around the burn, she examined it for the first time under the moonlight. The spot where the fireball struck had blackened her skin and left an open sore that oozed pus. Although she’d seen her share of wounds—many she'd inflicted on others—the sight of her own body in such a horrid state nauseated her.
“It looks infected. We need to clean it and dress it before you catch a terrible fever,” Siegfried said, crouching beside her. He inspected the damage thoroughly then turned to the brook. “We don’t have any salves available, but fresh water can perform miracles on burns.”
Siegfried walked over to a nearby bush that had long, slender leaves. He plucked several of the leaves and used them to create a crude cup by folding them over each other in a crisscross pattern. Then he walked over to the stream and dipped the cup, filling it to the brim. Ravenmane watched him absently, impressed by his nature craft. She knew very little about elves, but heard many stories about their penchant for using plants and the earth to sustain their needs. Rumor had it they could even bring settlements into existence by singing to trees. She wondered if Siegfried possessed such a skill or if it was all fiction. He walked over and gently poured a steady stream of water on the wound. She winced as the liquid made contact with the burned skin. For a moment, it was excruciating, but then she felt relief as the cool water assuaged the pain.
Siegfried refilled the cup and washed the leg once more. The second washing cleared away the pus and crusted blood seeping from the injury. The skin around the edges of the open sore was still black and burned, but it certainly looked better than before.
"Can I borrow your dagger?" Siegfried asked.
Ravenmane was taken aback by the request. She wasn't sure what the elf had in mind, so she hesitated to reply until he eased her trepidation.
"I need to cut a few strips of linen from my tunic. I'll use it to dress the wound," he explained.
She nodded and handed him the dagger. He cut off several thin strips from his tunic’s sleeve then wrapped them around her leg, covering the wound. The elf gently tightened the bandage then looked over his handiwork and nodded.
“How does that feel?”
“Feels fine,” she said with a sigh.
“We must change the dressing every few hours to avoid infection. Try to get some rest,” he said. He unslung the bow from his shoulder and strung it.
“What are you doing?”
“A doe and her fawn stopped to drink here just before we scared them off. I will hunt them so we have sufficient food for our journey back to Aldron,” he said, nocking an arrow to the bowstring.
Food. The mere mention of the word incited her stomach to growl loudly. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate. Perhaps breakfast? That was several hours ago. Her exhausted body felt as though it were on the edge of starvation.
“I’ll try to be quick. We won't have much time for a campfire. The light will be visible to the Draknoir as they gain ground on us, so it'll only serve us for cooking meat.”
He handed her the dagger and instructed her to stay out of sight. The instruction amused her since stealth and concealment were her stock and trade. But perhaps in her pathetic state, Siegfried didn’t see a trained assassin, but an injured woman who was quite vulnerable.
Siegfried crossed the stream and disappeared under the cover of the trees. She stretched back onto the tree trunk and allowed her eyes to close. Normally, she would be more alert in this kind of the situation, not trusting her safety to a stranger. But nothing in the elf’s manner betrayed that he intended to abandon or harm her. She put her mind at ease and drifted into a fitful sleep.
A few minutes later she woke with a start when she heard leaves crunching nearby. She gripped her dagger and turned toward the sound. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when Siegfried appeared in the moonlight, carrying a slain deer on his shoulder. An arrow shaft stuck out from the doe’s shoulder.
“I'll be needing your dagger again,” he said as he placed the deer on the ground.
Ravenmane tossed it to him and watched as he skinned and gutted the deer. He worked quickly and whispered elvish words to himself. The intonation of the phrases sounded sorrowful. Elves were not fond of killing woodland creatures, so she wondered if perhaps Siegfried was whispering a prayer or dirge for the animal. His low speech and graceful movements over the doe lulled her to sleep.
She awoke again when flames crackled nearby. Craning her neck to the right, she saw Siegfried huddled over a roaring fire. The venison meat cooked over a spit and dripped fat into the eager blaze. A pleasant aroma of cooked meat and spice filled her nostrils, setting her stomach on another round of growing.
“Hungry?” Siegfried asked, keeping his back to her.
“Famished,” she replied. “Is that...tarragon? Where did you find spices?”
He motioned with his hand to the left. “I found some herbs growing close to the stream. Come and eat. The meat is ready.”
Siegfried sliced several pieces of the meat with her dagger and impaled them on skewers he had fashioned out of sticks. The meat tasted delicious—it was juicy and succulent with just the right amount of spice. Ravenmane savored the meal and ate until her stomach pushed against her belt.
“One question keeps turning over and over in my mind,” Siegfried said. “Why did you save me?”
"I already told you. I needed help exacting revenge on Memnon. An elf with your archery skills was invaluable in that endeavor," Ravenmane replied. She tossed aside her last skewer and stared into the fire.
Siegfried shook his head. “I don’t believe you. There's another reason isn’t there?”
"Does it matter? Besides we're even now. I saved you from the Draknoir and you’ve done the same. No need to prattle on about it," she said coldly, though she suspected the elf was unlikely to let the matter rest.
In truth, she hadn’t just saved him for her own vendett
a. In a small way, saving Siegfried was a kind of atonement for her. The knowledge of her parentage and betrayal of her father had deeply saddened her. She would carry that sin for the rest of her life. Perhaps saving one soul could ease her conscience, or at least dull the pang of guilt she felt every waking moment.
“Everything we do matters, Ravenmane. You acted honorably in my favor, but not so regarding King Dermont. What caused such a dramatic shift?” Siegfried pressed.
She took a deep breath. That she still lived at all was thanks to the elf. But in her tired and wounded state, these questions were becoming tiresome. “Let’s just say I found the light and leave it at that.”
Siegfried nodded, finally sensing her unwillingness to talk. He quickly changed the subject. “I’ll take the first night's watch. You’ll need all the rest you can get to travel on that leg.” He stoked the fire with a long branch then stood up. “The Draknoir will be upon us in the next few hours. Once you're sleep, I’ll douse the fire to conceal our location.”
Ravenmane nodded then stretched out onto the grass beside the fire. The hard ground didn't provide much comfort, her aching leg and tired muscles didn't care. As she allowed herself to ease into sleep, she saw Siegfried cut more pieces of meat off the deer and wrapped them in leaves. Once again his furtive movements and calm demeanor comforted her.
“Siegfried,” she said softly.
He looked down at her, an expectant look on his face. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
The elf nodded and continued with his work. Ravenmane fell asleep and dreamed of running through a dark meadow with an unseen pursuer behind her. No matter how quickly she ran, the shadowy enemy continued to gain on her. She had no weapons, and the meadow stretched for miles ahead of her. Every second the pursuer drew closer, its hot breath steaming on her back. Inevitably, it reached out with sharp talons and pierced her shoulders. She let out an agonized scream then woke suddenly.
A hand clasped her mouth and she instinctively reached for her dagger. Another hand grabbed her wrist, preventing the move to unsheathe the blade. Her tired eyes adjusted in the darkness and she saw Siegfried standing over her. He let go of her mouth And put a finger to her lips. He inclined his head behind her and pointed.
Keep of Dragons (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 3) Page 5
