by LK Rigel
“I know for a fact you haven’t eaten today.” Meduyl’s maternal instincts had flourished under the new scheme—a nice way to put it.
“Your thoughtfulness is commendable, Meduyl.”
“It was Miss Lourdes thought of it. You can thank her—later, after you eat.”
It wasn’t like Lourdes to think of Elyse’s welfare, even when Mother was alive. Maybe she was calming down, or at least making an attempt to accept it that Elyse would be the next oracle.
“Come away out of the wind or you’ll catch your death.”
“It appears Aeolios has another headache today. A bad one.”
Meduyl ignored the comment and looked sideways at the pipa. “And put that thing down.”
Elyse sighed. There was no one now to share jokes about Aeolios with. She laid the instrument gently on the chair. “I promise you there’s no dark magic at work here. No wyrds of any kind.”
Meduyl grumbled and made a lot of noise setting out the soup and spoon she’d brought. “You can’t tell me something carrying strange signs from the edge of the world isn’t full of dark magic. I can tell by its sour notes all is not right in the thing.”
“It’s from a different place, that’s all. Those are decorations, not evil signs. It’s just different.”
Meduyl was typical among Tintagos villagers. She didn’t admit her contradictions, let alone try to understand them. She denounced magic, yet she worked at Glimmer Cottage. She was the first to claim wyrders were lazy (but not you, Miss!) and the first to line up for her own cauldron made of wyrded steel.
Elyse took a seat near the jasmine where Meduyl had dragged the small table away from the wind. It was impossible now to breathe in the fragrance without thinking of Mother. Meduyl clucked and puttered around the roof, pretending to straighten things up.
Mother, I miss you. Elyse again considered going to the woods to look for Aubrey, despite her mother’s palpable fear of the fae king. Since learning she was half fairy, Elyse had pondered all the accepted wisdom she knew about the fae. None of it was reliable. The fae lived forever. No, merely five thousand years. They hated iron. They loved it. They couldn’t abide salt or sour bread, but cakes were good. They loved music and dancing—everyone agreed on those two. They were as likely to steal a baby as to grant a favor—but if they granted a favor, they hated to be thanked.
Elyse smiled. She understood that about thank you. She used to hate it when someone thanked her mother for a wyrd. King Jowan had said thank you for the Great Wyrding. What was that worth? Mother would be alive today if she’d never done the deed.
Hector whinnied in the paddock, and another horse answered.
“Who’s there, Meduyl?” Elyse looked up from her meal. “Do you recognize that horse?”
“There’s nobody,” Meduyl said nervously.
“What do you mean? Of course there is.” Elyse crossed to the other side of the roof.
“It’s Miss Lourdes.” Meduyl backed away toward the door. “She said I was to make sure you stayed on the roof.”
“That’s Galados.” Elyse leaned over the rail. A page held King Jowan’s stallion, and two knights also waited in the courtyard. “Why would the king come to Glimmer Cottage?”
“She said you needn’t be distressed.” Meduyl stood before the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest, her brows knitted together and stolid determination in her eyes. What, she meant to bar the way?
“Stay.” Elyse flicked her wrist and set a boundary around Meduyl. Yes! A clean, strong wyrd, and so soon after playing music. It would fade in a few minutes, but Elyse counted it a victory. She walked past the stunned Meduyl without a glance and made herself feather light so she’d make no noise going down the stairs.
Elyse had hoped the underlying bond of sisterly love would prove stronger than petty jealousy, but it had turned out there was no bond between her and Lourdes. With Mother gone, Lourdes had lost all exterior restraint on her power. She’d clearly formed no self-restraint. There was but one explanation for King Jowan’s visit. Lourdes had put a fetching wyrd on him. Subjects went to the king; the king did not go to his subjects.
She’d used the magics on a royal.
“So you see, Elyse can never be the oracle, sire.” Lourdes was talking to the king in the parlor. “She’s not even talented. Her wyrds are only sporadically effective. She can work all the glimmer glasses, I’ll give her that. And once in a while a little spell executes perfectly—even beautifully. If only Mother hadn’t died. I’m sure, with her guidance, Elyse could one day have been very good. But you deserve better than could have been in your oracle.”
“But Frona did give Elyse the ring,” King Jowan said.
Elyse had no idea how to break the fetching wyrd. She pictured the king and thought free him and threw in a double flutter of both wrists for good measure.
“That’s true.” Lourdes sounded sad, as if she regretted the hard things that must be said. “And if Elyse were competent, I would support the idea that Mother meant her to be the oracle. Mother must have known she was dying. She had to transfer the ring, and I wasn’t here. Elyse was the only option.”
King Jowan didn’t answer. He must be considering Lourdes’s words.
“I can’t bear to consider the other possibility,” Lourdes added.
“What are you suggesting, Lourdes?” Elyse entered the parlor. “That I took the ring? That I killed Mother?”
“I don’t like to suggest it, Elyse. But what do we really know about you? What blood runs through your veins? We don’t know who your father was. He didn’t have the decency to stick around and marry Mother.”
Elyse said, “That was harsh.”
“Believe me,” Lourdes said. “It pains me to have to say it. But surely you agree, Elyse, the king’s oracle should not be a bastard.”
“Enough.” King Jowan rose to his feet, obviously irritated by the turn in the conversation. “Lourdes’s arguments are sound, but I’m loath to deny the oracle’s last wish.” He turned to Lourdes. “Elyse wears the ring. That is fact.”
“But sire—”
“I won’t be bothered about it now. A decision can wait until after the wedding.”
Deliberate or inadvertent, it was the cleverest move Jowan could have made, and Lourdes went pale. Elyse too understood the full meaning of a delay: Lourdes could maneuver her way to becoming the oracle or plot her way to having Galen, but not both. To become the oracle, she must behave until Galen and Diantha were married and the king was ready to decide between her and Elyse.
Elyse watched the emotions play over Lourdes’s face. What was truly her heart’s desire? Would she let Galen go?
“Of course, sire.” Lourdes gave the king her sweetest smile. Elyse remembered how much she admired her sister. Lourdes was so very beautiful!
“And until I decide,” King Jowan said, “Lourdes will take up the Friday pleas.”
The pleas had been a drain on Frona’s health, and both Elyse and Lourdes had begged her to stop them. She would visit the castle every Friday and grant wyrds for two hours. She insisted on the continuing the practice because King Jowan considered the Friday pleas an expression of his kingship, coming as they did from his oracle.
“I’ll be there this week,” Lourdes said.
“No need for that,” the king said. “You can take them here at Glimmer Cottage until your mourning ends.”
“Yes, sire.”
“I’ll be glad of that, I don’t mind telling you. Frona did praise your skills, Lourdes. The witch at the keep has done her best, and that’s the best I can say for her.”
The use of the word witch grated, but the king meant no disrespect by it.
“How fare the happy couple?” Lourdes said. “My sister and I hear the prince and princess are deeply in love.”
“Yes, well,” King Jowan said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly ready to leave. Either Elyse’s wyrd had worked or Lourdes’s had worn off.
Elyse said, “I
t was Mother’s fond wish that Galen and Diantha would be happy together.”
Lourdes’s eyes flashed with anger, but she quickly controlled herself. “Let me and my sister be first to offer the bride and groom a gift.” She turned to Elyse, glowing as if she’d had the loveliest thought ever. “Don’t you think Mother’s pipa would be just the thing?”
Elyse’s heart contracted. It felt like losing Mother a second time, and she was equally helpless to do anything about it.
11
A Leap of Faith
Tintagos Castle was ablaze with light. Every torch in the keep was lit, every stick of tallow but for the candle-clocks. Laughter spilled out of the great hall along with the song of a tenor. Accompanying the singer, one of Galen’s men played the pipa. Over the last few weeks Elyse had taught the retainer to play, and he had done quite well. She wouldn’t say the music made her cheerful, but it was soothing.
On the landing below, Galen waited for her and Lourdes to accompany Diantha down to him. They would all join the kings and Queen Elfryth in the antechamber and enter the great hall together. Galen was silly with love. His eyes didn’t leave the princess.
The tapestry commemorating the Great Wyrding hung on the wall above Galen. Elyse’s heart caught in her throat on seeing Mother in the picture, and she squeezed Lourdes’s hand.
“Oh!” Diantha tripped in front of them and fell.
Elyse started forward but Lourdes, fixed on the tapestry, held fast to her hand. “Oh, Elyse. I miss her so much.”
“Have a care.” Galen caught Diantha before she hit the landing and held her close to him like a treasure. He tweaked her chin. “You might break your lovely neck!”
“Never mind.” Lourdes smiled through her tears. She nodded toward the kissing couple. “At least that has worked out for the best. And we’ve set things right between us too.”
It was true. Lourdes had decided what she wanted—to be the king’s oracle—and she’d put her heart into making it so. She’d been more than sweet to everyone. She’d been cheerful, even kind. Mother must have made a mistake, Elyse told herself. It was better this way. Lourdes should be the oracle. Elyse certainly didn’t want it, and Lourdes did. Things had turned out for the best.
A page pulled aside a curtain to the antechamber where the two kings and Queen Elfryth had already gathered. Diantha went to her father, King Edgar, who kissed her forehead. She almost disappeared in his arms, safe and cherished. What would it be like to have such a father, loving and protective? Until Mother had told her about Aubrey, Elyse had never considered the subject.
“After tomorrow,” King Edgar said, “it will be for your husband to adorn you with jewels. So let me give this to you now.”
Diantha turned around, her back to her father. She was glowing with happiness. King Edgar draped a garnet necklace over her neck.
Elyse stood a little taller and touched her new scarf, a present from an anonymous person. She’d found it on her bed when she’d gotten out of her bath. It was made of something beautiful, shimmering and diaphanous, the color of flowers. Colors, rather—it changed from purple to green to blue to pink, depending on how the light struck.
It had to be from Galen. No one else would think of giving her presents. She’d expected Lourdes to be wearing one too—but Galen would probably think it too dangerous to give gifts to Lourdes.
Diantha broke away from King Edgar and nodded to the tall imperious queen. “Mother.”
“Very good,” Elfryth said without touching her daughter. Even the kings seemed in awe of Queen Elfryth, the favored daughter of a vastly wealthy family. Some said she’d arranged her first husband’s murder so that she could marry Edgar and be queen of Sarumos. “Shall we go in?”
With no oracle yet officially named, Elyse and Lourdes represented the wyrders of Dumnos at the head table. The queen sat in the center with King Jowan on her right side, then Galen, then Lourdes. King Edgar sat to the left of the queen, then Diantha, then Elyse.
The banquet tables were arranged in a rectangle around the hall’s perimeter with openings at the corner ends wide enough for the serving women to pass through. The center, where there would later be dancing, was occupied at the present by the tenor and the pipa player.
Elyse glanced sideways past Diantha at the queen. Elfryth was reputed to be a fervid champion of Rome and the Benedictines in Sarumos. She likely would prefer a chant to this rather common tune.
“She’s not displeased,” Diantha said. “About the music.”
The princess was really quite sweet. Fair and golden, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked. A kind heart. A perfect companion. Elyse was happy for Galen. Diantha leaned closer to Elyse. “I think it’s lovely, the pipa. It’s my favorite present. Galen said it belonged to your mother. We’re both honored to receive it.”
“It gladdens my heart to know that, my lady.”
The song ended, and before another could begin King Edgar rose to his feet and waved the musicians away. “My lords and ladies, tonight we celebrate the alliance of our two kingdoms in the joining of our beloved daughter Diantha with your Prince Galen.”
The guests drained their cups and tankards and pounded the heavy pewter on the tables with enthusiasm.
“My lady and I,” Edgar continued, “have an announcement. Although of course we hope and expect the couple will be often at court in Sarumos, we have given them Chester Castle and its estates for their official residence.”
More raucous pounding and huzzahs followed. Diantha beamed with pride and gratitude. “Of course, we’ll be most often at court here in Dumnos,” she told Elyse below the noise. “King Jowan will be lonely, especially now that your mother is gone.” She was so kind, Elyse thought her heart would break. “I know she and the king were great friends.”
“I never thought about it like that,” Elyse said. “But you’re right. They were good friends.” And she was my only friend.
“My fellow countrymen and welcome guests.” King Jowan rose to announce his gifts. No one expected Dumnos to match a castle, but all wondered what the king had come up with. “Dumnos is a land of mist and rain—and not much else.”
The guests chortled heartily, and someone at the end of a long table called out, “But we love it!”
“We do have one treasure. The magnificent iron ore that runs through Dumnos makes the finest broadswords ever seen. And superb cauldrons, I’m told. Our gift to the couple includes a Dumnos sword for each member of their guard and a full complement of pots and cauldrons for the Chester buttery.”
The revelers pounded out more approval. Lourdes sat still as stone, though Galen spoke into her ear. With a raised eyebrow, she stared hard at Jowan. Elyse knew what she wanted: a word about Mother’s sacrificed health in the Great Wyrding.
But that’s not what killed her, not really. Elyse was willing to make peace with Lourdes—eager to. But she hadn’t purged the memory of that night. If Lourdes hadn’t hidden the herbs, Mother would be here now and in her rightful place, the only wyrder at the head table. A nagging thought would not let Elyse go: Perhaps Lourdes had meant to kill Mother, not merely slow her down in order to get to Galen.
“One final gift.” King Jowan nodded to his head groomsman who barked something at his men. The pride on Jowan’s face—and the twinkle in his eye—made everyone the more curious, and the loud banter modulated down to speculative whispers.
Gasps and appreciative murmurs started at the far end of the long tables and moved in waves to the royal party. “Oh, no.” Diantha grasped Elyse’s arm. Two groomsmen walked to the center of the room where the musicians had been. They lead two magnificent horses. The hall erupted in applause and pounding.
“Odysseus and Penelope!” King Jowan said.
The jet black stallion had a white blaze on his forehead. The white-as-snow filly had a matching black blaze on hers. They were saddled and bridled in blood-red leather and polished brass ornaments with trim of blue velvet and white satin. They couldn’t settle in the closed hal
l and pawed at the floor.
“I don’t like horses,” Diantha whispered. Little beads of sweat broke out above her brow. “Penelope looks mean.”
“It’s not like that.” Elyse swirled her fingers in the air. “You’ll be great friends. Try again. Look at Penelope. Consider how you’ll always care for each other.”
Diantha relaxed. The filly met her gaze and calmed. A small smile turned up the corners of Diantha’s mouth.
The thrill of a spell well done bubbled in Elyse’s solar plexus. She’d wyrded the relationship between horse and rider. All would be well. Mother’s chant came back to her:
“Serve not desire, but enhance delight.
All will be well, all will be right.”
As the groomsmen led the horses away, Galen rose to express his and Diantha’s gratitude for the gifts, how he would miss Dumnos when he was away but wasn’t everyone overjoyed to meet their future queen—not that she would be queen anytime soon because King Jowan had a long life ahead of him. He sat down with a red face amid good-natured applause.
Lourdes’s place was empty.
Elyse looked all around the hall, but Lourdes was nowhere. “Diantha, I beg your leave.” Elyse left her chair. “I must speak with Galen.”
“She couldn’t stop thinking about Frona, so she excused herself,” Galen said. “She said she didn’t want to spoil the celebration.”
Elyse wanted to believe that was the problem, but a bad feeling churned in the pit of her stomach. She left the banquet to find her sister. She found Lourdes in her room leaning out of the window, her arms outstretched. “What are you doing?”
Lourdes whirled around, her face purple. “Can’t you ever leave me alone?”
“What are you doing?” Elyse asked again, but it was obvious. “It’s all been an act, hasn’t it? You’ve never stopped wanting Galen.”
