Schemes

by Krista D. Ball

  “You’re not,” he said.

  “I’m not what?”

  “Apexia’s daughters.”

  And there it was. Bethany sucked in a ragged breath. They couldn’t move against her in Wyllow. She’d saved too many people and was respected—or feared—by too many clergy and knights for anyone to openly arrest or harm her. So they needled her. They took away her influence and access, in a brilliant move to discredit her and to isolate her.

  This had little to do with anyone believing who or what she was, Bethany was certain. Maybe some of those who’d been kept out of the inner circle of knowledge and secrets truly didn’t believe her identity. But she knew most of them believed it after the temple’s attack. This was political. Her most powerful supporters—Torius, Aneese, Allric—were dead. The wolves were circling now.

  But why? She had been a loyal soldier. How could they justify her saving the temple if they didn’t believe she was Apexia’s daughter? Of course, she was a Magic user. A Magi. They didn’t know Magic was destroyed. They didn’t know because she couldn’t tell them. And with no one to blame for the destruction of the Blessed Blades and the removal of Apexia’s grace, she was an easy scapegoat.

  A bitter sound escaped Bethany. Malachi tried to sit up, but Bethany kicked him in the ribs until he stayed down.

  “What should we do with him?” Myra asked finally.

  Bethany was aware of all the other apprentices staring at her, wide-eyed and very frightened.

  “Bind him good and bring him with us. The knights at the palace will know how best to handle a traitor,” Bethany said. She glanced at Lendra and Myra. Both were covered in soot and the lace on Lendra’s dress was mostly gone. “You two okay?”

  They both nodded, and Darien replied that he was recovering.

  Bethany looked around the room and was painfully aware she couldn’t trust any of them now. Malachi had given her no reason to mistrust him, and he’d tried to kill her. Darien had been ordered to spy on them. How many more were under secret orders? Or, perhaps her question was who wouldn’t have secret orders?

  “I can summon the local magistrate,” one of the servants suggested.

  “No, they’ll just end up selling him into hard labour slavery. I won’t do that.”

  “The knights will kill me anyway,” Malachi wheezed.

  “Then there’s a lesson to be learned in all of this. Don’t try to kill Lady Champion Bethany in her sleep.”

  “You’re not Lady Bethany,” Malachi sneered.

  “Oh, I think you’ll find there’s enough people who still think of me as Lady Bethany to make the next months of your life very perilous.” Bethany looked around the room. “It’s not safe here. The sooner I’m at the palace, the safer we’ll be. Let’s get moving.”

  “It’s the middle of the night,” one of the children protested.

  “You were given an order,” Darien said, coughing after each word. “Lady Bethany and Ambassador Lendra are no longer safe. We must get them to safety.”

  Myra stepped up next to Darien and put a hand on his shoulder. She said, “I was sent to Taftlin to protect Ambassador Lendra and assist Lady Bethany for the next five years. If you are here to do that, and only that, step forward.”

  Darien gripped Myra’s wrist and she helped him to his feet. He had to lean on her, coughing and wheezing as he was. Lanessa was likewise struggling, but she got to her feet and said, “I’m here to serve.”

  Many of them stepped over to Darien and Myra immediately, before all took the symbolic gesture. Bethany knew a well-trained spy would know how to follow the crowd in such a situation, but many of these were such young elves that she didn’t believe any of them were lying. Then again, she hadn’t suspected Malachi either.

  “All right, let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 4

  Bethany had underestimated how untrained the guards actually were. Most of their trip to Taftlin had been onboard a merchant ship, so there was significant leisure time. Likewise, Castle Gree had become an important port post-war, and what was once the hamlet of Gree had exploded in size, ballooning to almost a thousand residents staking claim to the pieces of property not owned by the Crown. There had been plenty of servants and assistance for every need and want, again allowing for significant leisure.

  Rushing through the night on little food and less sleep proved more of a challenge. Darien wanted to mount his horse and lead the caravan, but he had breathed in too much smoke. He couldn’t speak without coughing, and he eventually confessed that the back of his throat down to the bottom of his lungs felt raw. Lanessa stepped forward and said she was also struggling to breathe—one of her auburn eyebrows was missing and there were small blisters on one side of her face where the sparks and flying cinders had burned her.

  Bethany ordered Darien to sleep in the wagon carrying the gold. He protested, albeit weakly, and she put Lanessa in with Lendra. Darien approved of Myra being assigned Bethany’s second for the duration of the escape—only until he was feeling better, of course—and they headed out.

  Unfortunately, none of the apprentices had done any form of field training. They were dry heaving from exhaustion, falling off their horses, and some even broke into tears. Bethany wanted to scream at them, but she had been assigned nearly all inexperienced elves. She remembered how difficult it was for her when she was young, and she was Elorian. Elves had it worse.

  In the end, Bethany found some compassion and ordered a stop every hour, and allowed as many elves as possible to sleep in the carriages without compromising safety. She and Myra were the only ones still alert enough to take on an attack, in any case, so letting some of them sleep wasn’t hurting her.

  There should have been plenty of places to sleep along the road. But the civil war had been vicious, as had the war against Magic. So many buildings were nothing more than blackened wrecks of their former selves. So they traveled through the night, switching out exhausted elves whenever they could, and arrived mid-morning at a decent-sized village.

  Bethany didn’t seek out an inn. Instead, she asked for directions to the local magistrate. They were pointed to a side road and told Sir Colin Eagle lived down the lane on a small estate called Cedar’s Cache.

  “Why are we here?” Myra asked Bethany when they pulled up to the castle tucked away in a well-groomed miniature forest surrounded by fields. “I thought you weren’t handing over Malachi.”

  Bethany dismounted and handed her reins to one of the servants rushing out to help. The boy bowed and took the reins, presumably leading her horse off to the stables.

  “I’m not,” Bethany said, shaking the dust out of her hair. She beat her tunic a few times and adjusted her baldric sash.

  Myra eyed her baldric. “Tell me, Apprentice Knight Bethany, are you allowed to be wearing that with all of your battle honours and...is that the symbol for Lady Champion on there?”

  “This old thing?” Bethany smirked. She motioned for one of the servants to join her and she asked, “Is the magistrate home?”

  “Indeed, your ladyship. We have awakened his lordship.”

  Bethany cocked an eyebrow.

  “There was a ball last night,” the servant explained.

  “Ah,” Bethany said, smiling. She turned back to Myra and answered her question. “There have been two attempts on mine and Lendra’s lives since we left Castle Gree. We need help getting to the capital.”

  “You trust Taftlin troops over knights? You?”

  Bethany grimaced. “We have a lot of travel still ahead of us and I’m not taking any chances.”

  The main wooden doors of the stone castle flew open and a man of increasing years rushed out. He frantically looked about him, spotted Bethany, waved, and hurried down the stairs. He was running his hands through his silver-streaked hair and his bronze skin was flushed red from exertion.

  Bethany didn’t recognize the magistrate, but he remembered her. “Lady Bethany!” he exclaimed. “I don’t suppose you know me. Allow me
to introduce myself. I’m Colin Eagle, magistrate of Cedar’s Cache. I saw you frequently at Castle Gree, though we were never formally introduced.”

  “Lady Bethany,” Bethany said, conveniently forgetting her fall from grace. Her tale of woe would only make Taftlins like her more—not less. Elven politics wasn’t much respected in the north. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And Ambassador Lendra. It is an honour,” he said, bowing low to Lendra.

  Lendra smiled and said, “Magistrate Colin, it is a pleasure to meet you once again. I am in dire need of your assistance.”

  “Of course! Of course! What were these elves thinking, sending you here with mostly women to protect you?” At Bethany’s side-eyed glance, he said, “Excepting you, of course, Lady Bethany. I am well aware of your heroics.”

  “I’m sure the tales were exaggerated,” Bethany said, smiling.

  “Not at all! Not at all!”

  “By the time I left Castle Gree, I’d heard I’d singlehandedly defeated several mythological beasts.”

  Sir Colin slapped Bethany on the back as if she were one of the men. She let him. In Taftlin, that was the best treatment she could hope for, really. He grew serious when he spoke to Lendra. “Now, what can I do to help you? If it is in my power, I shall.”

  Northerners loved a lady in distress, and she was happy to let Lendra fill the role to get what they needed. Lendra excelled at the lady in distress role to a level that made Bethany uncomfortable. Lendra was powerful in her own right; she could turn memories and minds to scrambled eggs if she wanted. But as Lendra described their tale of woe to Sir Colin, Bethany also realized that her baby sister’s actual power might lie with her words and tongue, more than her thoughts.

  In less than a minute, Lendra had Sir Colin wrapped around her finger and moving to her will. He apologized profusely for his wife being out visiting and not having a suitable breakfast table for visitors, especially not elves.

  “Do you eat cheese and wine? I have a bottle of fine wine that my wife’s been saving for a special occasion.”

  “The cheese would be greatly appreciated, but please keep the wine. I wouldn’t want to risk your wife’s wrath,” Lendra said, smiling.

  “Of course! She has a temper on her, let me tell you,” he said, leaning into Lendra to whisper conspiratorially.

  Bethany dutifully followed Sir Colin inside. It was a small castle, if castles could ever be defined as small. He apologized excessively in between shouted orders to servants. He even sent a boy to fetch his wife from her sister’s. “I am so very sorry that my house is not grand enough for you.” Over and over he repeated this, with Lendra giving endless assurances that his house was perfectly acceptable and that they wanted nothing more than a respectable home to rest for a couple of hours before resuming their journey.

  A servant rushed into the room and whispered a question to Sir Colin. He frowned and turned to Lendra. “My lady, I apologize for the question, but are smoked oysters acceptable to your palate?”

  “The more conservative elves don’t eat seafood, but I personally love smoked oysters. I believe most of the escort will also find it acceptable, but perhaps if you could also provide some preserves or jams for those who can only eat the bread and butter. That would be most kind, but please, do not put yourselves out. I don’t wish to be a disruption for your servants.”

  Her politeness only made the magistrate more nervous to please, not less, and the servant left with a flurry of demands being shouted at her.

  He sat down and shook his head. “I’m so sorry for the state of my table today.”

  Bethany laughed. “We arrived at Castle Gree days ahead of schedule and they didn’t even have cheese. They were out of bread for two days! I thought I was going to starve.”

  “How could there be no bread?”

  Lendra chuckled. “One of the servants didn’t know any better and he unloaded all of their new grain into the basement and not the upper dry storage. The basement flooded that night in a flash storm.”

  “Of course it flooded. The castle is next to the gulf.” The magistrate shook his head. “My girls here aren’t the best, but it’s hard to find good help now with the king’s new laws.”

  Bethany accepted a steaming mug of tea from a very young girl, smiled her thanks, and asked, “What new laws?”

  “It’s no secret the King is an abolitionist. Not that I am opposed to the king’s law, let me be clear. His is our sovereign and even though some don’t like him, I personally would never speak out against him. He’s done a lot for Taftlin already.” Sir Colin motioned outside. “Take the road you used to reach us. That was his doing. Did you know that two years ago, it wasn’t possible to bring a proper post carriage down that road unless you brought a dozen slaves with you to clear the path? Now look at it! It’s flat enough to eat off!”

  “But what did he change?” Bethany asked.

  “Oh. He added several taxes on slaves. I sold mine off to the road builders and hired some local girls to work here for me.” Colin sighed. “I understand why he is doing it, but it’s made many people angry.”

  “Really? I’d think people would be happy to be freed,” Myra said.

  “Oh, yes. Those people are happy. I was referring to those who made their fortunes from the sale of bodies. They are...discontented, shall we say?” Colin shrugged. “But no matter what his majesty did, someone would be unhappy, wouldn’t they? And it’s about time Taftlin starting looking after its own. For too long, we’ve been lining the pockets of the rich.”

  Bethany smirked. She was sitting in a rather comfortable estate house in the country, near a major trade road. But the magistrate’s money came from his influence and power, so being good to the people and supporting the king was his balancing act.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t carry on to the Duke’s estate,” he said, snapping orders for the servants to hurry and bring out the cheese and bread into the dining hall for the “starving elves in there. And bring them some ale.”

  Bethany sipped at her tea. “Forgive me, Sir Colin, but I don’t remember whose estate is nearby.”

  “The Duke of Arsenia has his seat of power a two hour ride away, by horseback. His Grace is away, but I know Her Grace and her mother, the Dowager, are at home.”

  “I had no idea we were so close,” Lendra said. She accepted a plate of nibbles from a hovering servant. The plate was filled with candied dates, cheese, and several thin slices of cake. The servant leaned over and whispered, pointing at two specific pieces of cake. Lendra whispered back, the servant tried to take back the plate, but Lendra politely refused. “I’ll give those to my sister. She doesn’t mind lard in her cakes.”

  “Is there a problem?” Sir Colin asked.

  “No,” Lendra said in her sickly-sweet voice laced with enough steel to stop any conversation dead in its tracks.

  Bethany looked away so that no one would see her smirk.

  “Her Grace has kindly been allowing one of our dear friends to stay with her,” Lendra said for Sir Colin’s benefit. “Her name is Amber. She’s the widow of Lord Allric, the commander of the elven force during the war.”

  “Do you mean the Rygent girl with the half-breed—” Lendra winced, and Sir Colin stumbled to correct himself. “I mean, the half-blood child?”

  Bethany cleared her throat and said dryly, “Yes. She’s a good friend of ours. Could I trouble you to send a servant with a note?”

  Lendra frowned at Bethany for a moment, before understanding flashed across her face. “If we can trespass on your hospitality for the afternoon. We wouldn’t want to inconvenience you while we waited.”

  “Of course not! My house is open to you, of course it is.” The magistrate clapped his hands and shouted once more for servants. “Apexia’s mercy, my wife is going to murder me if Her Grace visits when she isn’t at home.”

  ****

  When Bethany had asked the magistrate for assistance contacting the duchess, she’d assumed a letter
of invitation would be extended. Or perhaps a handful of knights would be sent to assist her with the escort. Bethany wasn’t expecting an entourage bringing even more bad news, and this time about Arrago.

  Bethany reclined in the backseat of the carriage she’d shared with Lendra and dozed off and on in the midday heat. The magistrate’s wife had insisted upon giving Lendra a bedroom to freshen up in, and Lendra had been asleep for most of the day. They also offered Bethany a room and made a huge fuss over her, but Bethany used poor discipline as a crutch and said her people were too new to be left alone for hours at a time. In the end, they relented and Bethany was able to enjoy the sun on her face.

  “Lady Bethany!”

  Bethany struggled to open her eyes. She groaned and rubbed her eyes to find Myra staring at her. “What?”

  “There’s a servant here for you.”

  “Can’t you handle it?”

  “She insists upon seeing you, and only you. She says,” Myra lowered her voice, “she says you know her and she’s an apprentice knight.”

  “I know a lot of apprentice knights,” Bethany said, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “What does she want with me?”

  Myra let out a violent yawn in response to Bethany’s endless yawning. “She says she has news about the king, and to tell you her name is Rose.”

  It took Bethany’s sleep-addled brain a few moments to register the name. She sat up. “Oh, of course. Tell her to come join me.”

  Myra returned with Lendra and Rose, and the three women crammed into the carriage with Bethany. Bethany stared at the sight of the girl. Though, she wasn’t really a girl anymore. Rose was a human who had once fought alongside Bethany what seemed like a lifetime ago. She’d been tortured, violated, and mutilated during the attack upon the temple. Bethany had made her an apprentice knight, and Kiner had assigned her to King Arrago’s protection.

  The last time Bethany had seen Rose, she was slender and gawky with youth: all out-of-proportion limbs and feet. Her eyes were dead and haunted. Her brown hair was greasy and matted. She was gaunt, malnourished, and so full of justified anger.