“I will be but a moment,” I said to him, hoping he would understand my not-so-subtle message.
“I think it best I stay and protect your honor, my lady.”
His insinuation colored my cheeks, and Adair’s chuckle did not help matters. I thought to scold Earvin, but I accepted my guilt and listened to reason. Had I lingered longer, I am certain I would have regretted what could have transpired.
“Very well,” I stood and shook out my skirt, deliberately crisp. “Your Highness, I bid you goodnight.”
I bowed and strode past Earvin, who did not reveal his feelings on the matter though I swore I could feel his stare at the back of my skull the entire walk back to the carriage.
Winter droned on, bleak and gray. Rain regularly pelted the palace, trapping its occupants indoors. The mood about the palace grew tense as council meetings continued to decide Sabine’s fate. My visits with her grew fewer as the weeks passed, and I watched in dismay as she lost more weight and the dark circles beneath her eyes grew.
By the time Maiden Dance arrived, it seemed hard to believe the winter had passed by in a gray blur. I followed the throng of courtiers out onto the lawns of the garden on one of the first sunny days in a long time. Earvin seemed at ease and trailed behind me while I wandered lost in my own thoughts. It seemed nothing had changed for me. I felt suspended. After my reading for the Order, my services were of no further use, and I spent many of my days worrying about Sabine and, more secretly, Johai, who I had not seen since early winter.
Unaware of my surroundings and lost in my thoughts, I ran astray into an ornamental bush, and my hair snagged in its branches. I cried out in alarm. The scuffle of boots told me Earvin rushed to my side to assist, though it did not make me feel like any less of a fool.
The tread of his feet stopped, and I twisted around in an attempt to both free myself and see what had stopped him. I winced as the caul in which I had bound my hair snagged further and pulled at my scalp.
“Earvin, I could use your assistance.”
He squeezed my shoulder. I twisted around as much as the tangle would allow and paled when I saw Adair smirking at me.
“Looks as if you’ve been caught.”
I ignored the flutter of my heart. We had only seen brief snatches of one another since the council. It was mostly my doing; I did not want to further complicate the situation, since he was destined for Sabine.
“Perhaps you could help?” I prompted.
“As you wish.” He leaned in close, and his breath fanned across my neck, sending a resulting chill down my spine. Thankfully, the moment was brief. With deft fingers, he managed to free me with little pain. My caul, unfortunately, did not fare as well.
He handed me the mangled hair ornament with a bow.
“Thank you,” I said as I placed the destroyed item in the handbag at my wrist.
I glanced over to Earvin, who stood off with a scowl on his face. Not for the first time, I wondered what his thoughts were. We had spoken little since the night I attacked him, and I still wondered at his loyalty. Though his words that night led me to believe he would not betray me, I could not say why he had yoked himself with me.
Other than Earvin, we were, thankfully, alone. I do not think my ego could handle the mortification of other courtiers seeing me tangled like a bug in a spider’s web. Adair stared at me in a bemused fashion, and I felt a blush creeping up my neck in response. What a sight I must have appeared, my surely knotted sable locks falling free over my shoulders.
“You look rather charming when you’re disheveled,” he teased.
My blush deepened, and I looked away. You cannot let this continue. We will never be, I scolded myself. I pulled my hair back away from my face self-consciously. A gentle tug upon them diverted my attention back to Adair’s face, something I was trying desperately to avoid. Adair had a section of my hair wound around his fingers, tethering me to him.
Forced to face him, I met his blue eyes. For a moment, I thought he would kiss me, but instead he said, “I have not seen Johai in some time, perhaps he has left court.”
The comment was unexpected, and I took a step back, in the process tugging my hair from Adair’s grip.
I winced, and he let go. “Mayhap he left for Neaux with Damara,” I said with what I hoped appeared to be a careless shrug. The truth of the matter was I did care, despite my wishes not to. I had not seen him since the day he had freed me. If he had left court, as I suspected, I wondered why he had not even said goodbye to me, as Damara had.
“Perhaps,” Adair said with a tilted smile. “Do tell me if he contacts you, won’t you, Maea.”
“Do you think he still poses a threat to the kingdom?” I asked.
Adair shrugged. “Unlikely, the Order has made the proper precautions to prevent anything he or Damara could do to stop us, but if he were located, it may help our cause.”
Despite my resolve to thwart Damara, I felt apprehensive at turning Johai and her over.
“If I hear of them, you will be the first person I notify,” I said with a smile, though I was curious as to why he was so concerned about Johai’s whereabouts. Did he fear their plotting, despite his reassurance otherwise?
“There will be dancing tonight, and I do believe I have yet to have the honor of sharing a dance with you,” Adair said in an apparent change of conversation.
“I will have to reserve one for you, then,” I replied, glad for the distraction.
“I’d prefer to be your first.”
“You do enjoy being the forerunner, don’t you?”
He laughed sharply, and it helped to put me at ease, some.
“You certainly have the measure of me, Maea. Now if I could only have the full measure of you.”
I thought it impossible to blush any further, but my entire body burned after his last comment. He bowed to me in his theatrical way and strode away in the direction of the gathering. I stared after him for a few moments to tame my wildly beating heart.
I tied my hair back with a bit of ribbon, and with a nod to Earvin, who seemed stonier than usual, we headed towards the gathering as well. I arrived late, and the king and queen already stood before the assembled group. A few courtiers eyed my disheveled appearance before muttering to their companions. I jutted out my chin and pretended not to notice.
The ceremony began. It tugged at my faded memories; the Maea before loved Maiden Dance because it celebrated the Goddess in her youth, as a personification of springtime.
In Danhad, we celebrated Maiden Dance in remembrance of the first queen. The first king was said to have plucked her from the sea. He thought her beautiful and made her his bride, or so the story goes.
As a child, I recalled thinking it romantic; now I had a more jaded view.
The king stood before the chattering crowd and held out his hand. “I call forth the harbinger of spring, the King Fisherman who fathers a nation.” His voice echoed across the lawn, punctuated by the crash of the ocean in the distance.
Silence followed his command, then surprised laughter emitted from a group of young women to the left side of the king. The group parted and out stepped a man bedecked in kidskin hose and a plain brown jerkin. He held his head high and strode playfully forward, blowing kisses to the women, who swooned and fought to catch the imaginary affections.
The intention of the white mask over his eyes was to conceal his identity, but I recognized his attire. Every stroke of his arm exaggerated his youthful vigor, marking him as Adair without question. His sapphire eyes blazed from behind the mask, and his smile split his features.
Courtiers called to him in playful jest, and he bowed deeply to them, near mockingly, before prancing around like a sprite, kicking his heels high in the air and even doing a summersault, earning appreciative gasps and a round of applause when he landed neatly on his feet. The king silenced the crowd with a stern sweep of his arm.
Turning towards the king, Adair fell to his knees before him and bowed low to the ground. His ant
ics had lightened my mood. The king acknowledged Adair with a nod and a wave of his hand.
Adair stood with another dramatic twirl and cupped a hand to his ear, listening for a sound none could hear. The laughter and chatter fell away, and the sound of a horn trumpeted.
My head throbbed, and the beating of drums picked up their staccato. Adair thrust his hand up in the air as he pranced about. He flitted from maiden to maiden, even pausing beside Odell, grabbing her hand, cradling it in his own, and causing her to flush to the roots of her blonde hair. I caught a flash of his mirthful expression as he raised his head, tilting it ever so slightly in my direction before whirling around as the trumpet sound increased along with the beating drum.
I knew what the sound betokened, but I fought it. No, not again, please. Those assembled looked around in confusion. Adair strode to the far end of the gathered crowd. With a sweep of his arms, he parted them like a tide. A woman stood among them. Her blue-green gown, fringed with white lace like foam upon the rocks and trimmed with pearls along the neckline, gave her an unearthly quality.
She, the Summer Maiden, wore a sea-green mask encrusted with pearls that covered half her face. Her olive skin and onyx hair, bound in a silver caul, revealed her to everyone there. The king had released Sabine from the tower.
Adair fell to one knee before extending his hand to her. Sabine curtsied, and her hands shook as she lifted her skirt to do so. Adair took her hand and kissed it. Torn between jealousy and joy, I remained frozen to my spot as the drumming overwhelmed my senses, and the world blurred beyond my tears.
The emotions of the crowd rolled with a mixture of affection and anger. It was not until later that I realized the gravity of the gesture, by making her the Summer Maiden, the king, and by extension Danhad as a whole, recognized her as a cherished member of the peerage and suitable to play the beloved Prince Adair’s lover.
Moreover, it marked her worthy as a future queen of Danhad.
At the time, however, I felt heartsick and weak. The vision had me in its grips, and it washed over me as the tide does the shore. I fell down from a cliff face, cascading endlessly towards craggy rocks. As the headless body of Count Braun had once done, I fell to my doom. No matter how long I fell, however, the ground never arrived. I screamed and thrashed, though I should have known better, I grasped for purchase on the slippery rocks that zoomed past me. A hand reached out for me, and I clung to it like a lifeline. I upturned my head, and a face obscured by an ebony mask, not much different than the ones Adair and Sabine had worn, stared down at me. The face of death smiled deviously, and I dropped its grip as if it burned.
I fell to the ground, and my breath escaped me in a whoosh. Water dripped nearby, and I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythmic sound.
“Get up, daughter of my blood.”
I opened my eyes, and the hooded face of the diviner hovered over me. I fumbled to my feet, and she fell back towards the basin.
“You have yet to awaken.” Her tone, though mild, was accusatory.
I followed her to the basin and kneeled beside it. For so long I had searched for her, and now that I knew who had taken the memories away, she summoned me, and yet I still remained as ignorant as before. “What do you mean ‘awaken’? You told me I must remember, and I have. Johai took away my memories of him and sought to use me in his plots for the throne!”
She swept her arm, and the water rippled. “The task is not complete. You have not awoken. Come, look.”
On the water’s surface, soldiers in the thousands faced each other in a line, faces grim, weapons at the ready. They were a mix of nationalities: Danhadine, Neaux, Jerauchian and a fourth were wild and fierce with feathers and beads in their hair. They I assumed to be the Biski. They faced one common enemy, silhouetted against the rising sun, a lone man. The man stood with his arms outstretched and head tilted back. I could not see his features though I felt as if I knew him.
He shouted a guttural sound, and soldiers crested the rise and roared a death cry. The four nations rose up, surged forward to meet the horde. They crashed against one another as the sea does upon the rocks. The clang of metal rang through my ears as the moans of the dying filled my head. I watched it all from a great distance, as if I were a casual observer. A hand touched my shoulder, and as I turned to face them, the vision ended.
I stared at the water’s surface, the same chaos of images overlapped and swirled, but that partial vision had ended for me. What did it mean, I wondered. Too many times I had dreamed and seen war. How could I prevent it?
“War is coming. If you do not stop it soon, all will perish, not only Danhad,” she said as if reading my thoughts.
“How can I stop this if I cannot even save myself?” I looked up at her shadowed face.
She hung back from me; her pale hands placed in her sleeves. “You have the tools. You must remember.”
She motioned again to the basin, and I looked unto the surface once more. Images flickered on its rippling surface. Sabine’s face rose to the surface, tears falling down her face as she strained. The scene expanded, and the great swell of a child within her revealed itself. A midwife stroked her brow and soothed her. Sabine cried out in pain once more, and the attendants rushed to her aid.
“Her child shall be the destruction of all,” the diviner said.
I did not take my eyes off the basin. The vision contorted and changed. Adair and Sabine’s child, a boy with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, sat upon a throne. A cruel smile twisted his lips as blood flowed like a river from the base of his throne. Flashes of the faces of everyone I knew accompanied the vision, dead and hollowed eyed, staring. I refused to believe it, not Sabine’s son. She would never raise such a monster. Tears streamed down my face.
“I show you to prevent these things. You can save them, but you must fight what binds you, blood of my blood.”
“I don’t understand.” Pain bloomed in my skull and blocked out everything else. “I thought I had broken the spell.” I thought of the priest’s veiled words. What was left? What had I missed?
“Remember your prophecy, and all will be understood, but you must hurry before it is too late.”
“Please help me! I cannot do this on my own.”
“Fulfill my promise and be safe, daughter of my line.” She leaned in and kissed my brow. I had so many questions for her, but I could already feel the vision slipping away.
“Why do you only speak in riddles? Why will you not help me!”
“Soon, daughter, I will give you the answers, I promise.”
For a moment, I saw her face beneath the hood, and I thought I glimpsed my mother.
“Wait!”
I opened my eyes. I was staring up at the brilliant blue sky, and there was the steady beating of a drum, but no… this was not a drum, it was a heart. This seems familiar, I thought. It is so comforting.
“You’re awake,” he said.
I looked up through bleary eyes. My head pounded painfully, and his face was out of focus, but his sapphire eyes were looking through me. At first, I thought it was Adair, but the voice did not match.
“Johai, I thought you had left,” I said. My eyes threatened to close on me. Had I not been drowsy from the vision, I might have questioned his presence, but instead I took comfort in his strength.
He tensed, and his fingers curled tighter around me. “I am not Johai.”
I squinted, and Earvin’s face came into focus. I frowned. “I swore I saw Johai…”
Oblivion pressed upon me, and I struggled to stay conscious. That’s not possible, Johai left court.
“You collapsed. You’re probably seeing things.”
My lucidity was returning, and I questioned myself. This was not the first time I had looked at Earvin and seen Johai. This could not be mere coincidence. I studied the profile of Earvin’s face. He was an average Danhadian man, brown hair, brown eyes, a square jaw and stubble on his chin. Nothing indicated or leant him to Johai’s more fair Jerauchian complexion o
r his piercing eyes.
“You’re probably right.” I said, but in my mind I had begun to doubt Earvin.
Chapter Twenty
A formal announcement of Adair and Sabine’s engagement quickly followed Maiden Dance. I missed the fete following the ceremony, but I did attend the announcement made by King Dallin in the throne room.
Speculations on the couple’s probable engagement had run rampant through court for the better part of a week. When King Dallin rose from his throne, a hush fell over the crowd. He stepped up to the edge of the dais on which his throne sat. He scanned the crowd before speaking. His eyes rested on me for a moment, and I fought the urge to look away. When he did, I let my eyes linger on Queen Idella. She appeared pensive, and her brows pulled together in thought.
“Good people of Danhad,” King Dallin began. “In the wake of the terrible tragedy that was Princess Sarelle’s sudden death, I am happy to be able announce a great blessing on our kingdom. The king of Neaux has agreed to the marriage of his daughter Princess Sabine to my nephew, Prince Adair. In joining our two countries in marriage, we have each sworn everlasting peace and the hope for mutual prosperity. In a fortnight, we shall hold the ceremony, and tomorrow we shall celebrate their engagement with a hunt. I hope for all of you to join me in this most joyous celebration week.”
He stepped back, and Adair, his arm linked with Sabine’s, stepped forward. The smile on his face appeared genuine, while Sabine’s pale smile made me worry. Her gown hung off her shoulders, and the sharp, jutting collarbone it exposed concerned me. The official ruling for Sarelle’s death was an accident, though the announcement given a few days prior left a bad taste in my mouth. It felt too tidy.
In the shadow of the dais, Sabine’s guard Beau watched them, and the hooded expression he wore put me ill at ease. Had Sarelle not died, would she have attempted to marry him, I wondered, or mayhap at least taken him as a lover? That seemed unlikely now, and I felt sorry for him. The crowd seemed genuinely happy, though a few displeased faces were among them. I genuinely hoped them happiness, or so I liked to tell myself.
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