by Jocelyn Fox
“With that silver tongue of yours, it might be possible to coax one out,” replied Rye, grinning.
“I might have to do some research before our next excursion,” Ramel murmured thoughtfully.
Rye shook her head in amusement. Ramel felt slightly disappointed that she didn’t object to the idea of him seeking out a beautiful nymph. He added her blithe reaction to his ever-mounting store of evidence that she looked at him as no more than a friend. Such is the life of a squire, he reminded himself. Duty-bound to help untangle your master’s romances and forbidden to embark upon your own. But now he truly understood the purpose of the oath. He would have gladly skipped an afternoon of training or an evening of study to spend time with Rye, even if it was just sipping tea in her quarters with Mira pressing her head against his leg.
The conversation with Knight Finnead did not go as Ramel planned, but then again, his master was rarely predictable. He chose to broach the subject as he helped Knight Finnead prepare for the night’s patrol, laying out his gear, testing the sharpness of his blades and oiling the leather of his jerkin.
“Sir,” Ramel began, “I wonder if…it is perhaps impudent of me, but I wish to speak to you of a personal matter.”
Finnead glanced at him from where he sat cleaning his sword with a soft cloth. “I’m used to your impudence at this point, Ramel. Speak your mind.”
“Sir, Lady Rye…she mentioned that the Princess may be starting to think of you as more than a friend.”
“Of course, I am more than a friend.”
The Knight’s calm reply left Ramel at a loss. He paused in his work and searched for words, but could only come up with, “Sir?”
Knight Finnead focused on his blade. “Of course, I am more than a friend to her, Ramel. I am her personal guard and instructor. You and I both know that there is a bond between instructor and student.”
“Well, that is logical, sir,” conceded Ramel.
“You’ve exceeded your daily limit of calling me sir,” said Finnead.
“Yes, si – yes,” managed Ramel. “What I mean to say, though, and what I think Lady Rye meant, is that the Princess may be forming a, ah, a romantic attachment to you.”
Knight Finnead paused in cleaning his blade. Then he chuckled. “I would think it below you to gossip, Ramel.”
“It’s not meant to be gossip, sir,” said Ramel. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly when Finnead gave him a baleful look at the honorific. “If I wanted to bring gossip to you, I’d tell you about the talk of your relationship with a nymph.”
“Is that what they’re calling it? A relationship?” Finnead said musingly, but his squire could hear the tightness in the Knight’s voice.
“I am just trying to…not warn you, sir, but just…just tell you of things you may not see yourself.” Ramel felt the conversation spinning out of control, and he didn’t know what words would right its trajectory.
“What did I tell you about sir?” Finnead said, almost growling.
“It’s a habit!” retorted Ramel hotly.
The Knight looked at his squire in silent surprise, raising his eyebrows slightly at the outburst.
“I apologize,” said Ramel. “This conversation is just…not going as I’d thought it would.”
Finnead let a long moment pass in which Ramel miserably imagined the tasks he’d be assigned as punishment for his impudence. But when Finnead finally spoke, it was in a calm and measured voice.
“It must be difficult, lad, to try to speak to me about it. It takes a certain measure of courage,” he said. He smiled slightly. “I never had to talk to Knight Arian about dalliances or romance. He kept his private affairs well in order, and I had hoped to do the same.”
“I don’t think it’s your fault,” Ramel offered tentatively. Finnead gestured for him to continue. “You are certainly entitled to pursue your own…interests. And you have been nothing but honorable and proper in the company of the Princess. But I think perhaps that is part of why she is…might be…beginning to look at you differently.”
“My own interests,” repeated Finnead with a smile. “Now that is a tactful way to put it.” He shrugged. “I will continue to act honorably and properly in the company of the Princess, and that is all I think she or anyone can ask of me.”
“I think she would ask more,” Ramel said before he thought properly about the words. He froze, certain now that he’d be polishing every pair of Knight Finnead’s boots or sweeping the training yard dirt smooth after lessons adjourned.
Instead, Knight Finnead merely chuckled and said, “If she is asking, then I think I would be free to answer as I see fit.”
Ramel sighed inwardly. How could he help Rye protect the Princess and his Knight if he couldn’t even keep his balance in a simple conversation? Perhaps he didn’t understand all the subtleties of such feelings yet.
“That is true,” he agreed humbly, and turned the conversation to the night’s patrol. As he asked Knight Finnead if he should polish the armor for his charger, he thought that he had done what Rye had asked. He’d talked to Finnead; she couldn’t say he hadn’t done his part. Yet, somehow, he felt that he’d failed, the feeling nagging at him well after Finnead dismissed him and he struggled to study in the wavering light of a candle in his own room.
Chapter 20
“I have heard that the Princess may think of you as more than a friend now,” said Shaleh, sitting languorously on the curve of one of the roots of her tree.
Finn chuckled. “How is it that you still manage to know that?”
“Stuck as I am in my tree?” suggested Shaleh with a smile. “I heard it in the wind, whispered from the trees closer to Darkhill. You have been teaching her for nigh on a year now, and yet you barely speak of it.”
“What else does the wind say?” Finn leaned back against the tree, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight that striped his legs.
“Don’t try to change the subject,” Shaleh admonished. She climbed down from her perch and sinuously advanced on him. He smiled up at her as she stood over him and gave him a mockingly severe look.
Finn sighed. “First Ramel, now you. I appreciate the concern, but…” He shrugged. “The Princess is young, and she is far above my station. It wouldn’t end well.”
“And just because she is young, she cannot fall in love?” Shaleh tilted her head.
“Whatever she feels for me, it certainly isn’t love,” protested Finn, shifting uncomfortably. The idea of Andraste loving him made him feel a strange panic…laced somehow with excitement. He didn’t understand it.
Shaleh leaned down and kissed him, her hands brushing back his hair. “Sometimes you cannot see what is right in front of you.”
Finn traced the lines of her back lightly with his fingers. “I enjoy our time together. I wouldn’t want that to end.”
The nymph laughed and leapt back up onto the arched root. “You think of me like you think of the women of your Court, and you forget that I am entirely different.”
“I don’t forget. It’s because you’re different that I enjoy our time so much,” countered Finn. “I don’t have to worry about saying too much or saying too little. You let me simply be.”
“Because that is all I know how to do,” replied Shaleh with a smile. “I am part of a tree, after all.”
Finn laced his hands behind his head. His relationship with Shaleh was much less passionate than the rumors at Court suggested; rather, he’d fallen into an easy yet deep friendship with the nymph. That wasn’t to say they didn’t fulfill their physical desires with each other when the wish arose, but, for the greatest part when he visited her, they had long conversations that lasted hours. They talked about Kieran sometimes – Shaleh listened with quiet interest as Finn told stories of his best friend, and occasionally she would remember a new detail of the gauntlet to contribute. Other times, Shaleh told him tales of years past in the forest, stretching back hundreds of years to when she was a sapling. In those moments, Finn felt as though he talked t
o one of the oldest Scholars at the Court. He learned that centuries ago, the Northerners had even sent invitations to both Sidhe Courts to foster their young ones in an attempt to build good will and friendship between the nations. He wondered if any Unseelie had taken up the offer, and whether any young Unseelie had been offered the chance to be chosen by one of the famous Northern wolves.
Shaleh also told him about storms and snow, describing the terrible beauty of blizzards and tempests. He remembered one storm in particular, from his early years. They’d been able to hear the wind howling in the halls of Darkhill, and the young ones of the Court had been forbidden to venture outside even after the wind fell silent because the cold bit so fiercely and the snow blanketed the land so deeply that their nursemaids feared the young ones would be lost in the snow and freeze to death.
“What will you do about the Princess?” Shaleh asked, bringing Finn’s attention back to the subject even as he’d begun to ease into a pleasant doze in the warm sunlight.
He sighed. “There’s nothing to do, Shaleh. I think it’s just a passing phase.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Why does everyone insist on speaking about what could happen and what might happen?” he replied, frustration beginning to creep into his voice.
“Most likely because we care about you and want you to be able to see the possibilities,” the nymph replied calmly. “We have spent many hours together in the shadow of my tree, Finnead.” She smiled. “I cannot lie, so I cannot pretend that I am not fond of you.”
“So, what do you think I should do?” asked Finn. “My squire has already told me his opinion, so you might as well add to it.”
“Finnead,” sighed Shaleh, her voice the rushing of the wind through the treetops. “Do not be angry with me. You are my friend, and I have not had many friends.”
Finn sat up and reached toward her, delicately tucking a strand of her mossy hair behind her ear. He brushed her gleaming dark cheek with his thumb. “You are right. I apologize.”
She smiled, her leaf-green eyes watching him intently. “I think there will come a time when you will not come to me anymore.”
He frowned. “Why? As you said, we’re friends. I can be myself here.”
“Some might not understand,” she said.
“I don’t make decisions based on what others think.”
“You might, one day.” Shaleh put up a finger to his lips as he began to protest. “I am not accusing you of being fickle or dishonorable, my friend. I am merely saying that a time may come when you do not need my friendship quite so much.”
“Why do you place limitations on what you can be to someone else?” asked Finn, shaking his head.
The nymph smiled. “Because I have watched the world for centuries. I understand what I am, and I accept it. It does not make me sad, because it is simply what I am.” She shrugged one dark shoulder. “It is simpler for me than you, I think.”
“In some ways,” agreed Finn. He settled back into the crook of the tree root again.
“I think that it might be easier for you to dismiss the thought of the Princess loving you,” said the nymph quietly. “It is easy for you to guard someone with your life. That has been part of your training for years.” She paused. “It is harder for you to venture into the unknown and love someone, especially after losing someone you loved so dear.”
“Kieran was my brother,” said Finn. “This is different.”
“Different, but I think the same in some ways.”
“The Princess shouldn’t fall in love with a Knight,” he objected. “It would be more proper for her to be courted by one of the nobles that Queen Mab favors.”
“Love does not always neatly fall within the bounds of what is proper,” said Shaleh. “Remember your thoughts of what is proper are merely rules created by your Court. You cannot expect them to put chains around a woman’s heart.”
“Chains?” repeated Finn. “You make it sound cruel.”
“Perhaps it is,” replied the nymph calmly. “Why should there be rules dictating who to love? Why should there be edicts governing what someone can or cannot do to pursue their own happiness?”
Finn frowned. “Your words…they remind me of what the Northern delegation said before they left, years ago. I didn’t hear them myself, but Ramel told me. The chains of obedience may invoke obedience, but not loyalty. That’s what their sorceress said.”
“The people of the North have always spoken loudly in defense of freedom,” said Shaleh with a smile.
Finn shook his head. “I took my oath of obedience to the Queen willingly.”
“And that was your choice.” The nymph nodded. “But what of those who have no choice? Just as the heart chooses who to love, perhaps the heart also chooses what path to walk.”
“Is there still discontent among those who wanted to go to the North?” asked Finn, his skin prickling with a strange premonition of conflict. Rye was one of the Princess’s ladies, and Tyr was a favored bard. The others who had traveled with them drew no attention to themselves.
Shaleh didn’t answer him, but he inferred the truth from her silence. After a few moments, she said, “Be careful, Finnead. I feel darkness reaching down into the forest. Threads like roots beneath the ground. It is silent and it is grasping, growing more with the passing of every moon.” She shivered, trembling like the branches of her tree in a strong wind.
“We are sending patrols out nearly every night,” he said reassuringly. “We’ve killed three of those wolf-creatures.”
She looked at him in sad resignation. “If you think those creatures are all you must worry about, it is worse than I thought.”
“What else could we do?” Finn asked.
Shaleh crouched and hugged her knees to her chest. “I do not know. I am just the spirit of a tree. But I feel the foulness of the wind coming from the North. They are fighting and dying in their battle against this darkness.”
“We are doing our part,” Finn said, but even he didn’t quite believe his words.
“Perhaps to protect what the Queen believes are her lands,” replied Shaleh. “But if the North falls to darkness, these lands will soon feel the touch of evil.” She shuddered again.
“This isn’t like you, Shaleh,” Finn said. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
The nymph closed her eyes and then opened them again. “I am sorry. The water beneath the ground tastes strange. The rain is cold and stinging. The land is changing.”
“We will protect the forest.” Finn resolved to ask Lady Rye if there were any purifying runes that could defend a tree against contaminated water or other pestilences.
“You should go,” said Shaleh with uncharacteristic somberness.
“All right,” Finn agreed quietly, unwilling to upset the nymph any more by arguing. “I’ll be back within the week.”
She smiled. “Hopefully our conversation will not be such a portent of doom then, eh?”
He gave her a brief kiss and she laid her head on his shoulder for a moment; then she disentangled herself and melted back into her tree. He turned back to the path and began his trek out of the forest. He told himself that the mournful sighing of the wind was just his imagination.
As he neared the edge of the forest, a glow shot through the canopy of leaves above him. He paused and watched the little comet spin a few circles over his head and then zip down to hover in front of him. A Glasidhe messenger bowed courteously.
“Knight Finnead, I presume?” he piped, his clear, bright voice cutting through the sounds of the forest.
“Yes,” said Finn with a slight smile. The Glasidhe had their own Court at the Three Trees, but they often visited both the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, and a handful always worked as messengers at any given time.
“Messenger Calumny, sir,” said the Glasidhe. He wore a brightly embellished vest and a jaunty black feather in his cap.
“Calumny,” repeated Finn, raising his eyebrows.
“My mother n
amed me after defamation so that I may ever be mindful of the words spoken by my lips,” said the messenger earnestly. “But you can call me Cal, if it pleases you, sir.”
“Do you mind if we keep walking, Cal? I don’t want to be out in the forest after dusk.”
“Of course, sir, of course!” Calumny kept pace with Finn as the Knight began walking again, hovering just ahead of his left shoulder. “I was sent, sir, by the Princess, to inform you that a Seelie delegation is arriving unexpectedly at Court, and she wishes you to accompany her to the feast tonight.”
Finn looked at the messenger in alarm. “She wishes me to accompany her?” To be chosen as the Princess’s personal guard was one thing; to be her escort to a feast of such high visibility was another thing altogether.
“Yes, sir,” confirmed Calumny cheerily. “She also said that she has sent her Master of Wardrobe to ensure that you are properly dressed.”
Finn bit back a groan at the thought of being measured and fussed over by a tailor. He promised himself that he’d put the Princess through a particularly grueling set of drills during their next practice session as retribution. “Well, we’d better hurry then.” With one hand on his sword, he stretched his legs into a run.
“Best of luck, sir!” called Calumny as they emerged from the edge of the forest and the Glasidhe messenger zoomed away.
“I’ll need it,” grumbled Finn as he ran up the hill and waited for the watch to open the gate for him. He glanced up at the sun and cursed under his breath; he had little idea of what was expected of him and even less time to prepare.
When he arrived at his quarters, out of breath and sweating slightly, he found to his relief that only Ramel awaited him.
“I had the Master of Wardrobe take your measurements from the clothing you already had,” his squire said. “There’s water there to wash up, and they just dropped off your clothes for the night.”
