The Remedy (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  Cazien fingered the silver charm at his neck. “They may have the same name, but they aren’t the same animal.”

  “Oh.” The animal beneath Meredith E’veri was bigger than Salvador, Julien’s gigantic horse. It did look a bit like a horse, but its face was bonier, its neck gilled, and its mane appeared more like kelp than hair. “Are they real?”

  “They’re real.”

  “Still?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you ever seen one? Up close?”

  “Aye.” Cazien nodded and I sensed a respectful affection in his voice.

  “It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.”

  “Aye.” He smiled. “But I don’t think it’s wise for either Meredith or her steed to be seen in Port Dyn. Once rumors of pirates being in port begin, it’s all ‘Hide the women!’ and ‘Alert the guard!’ and all that nuisance.”

  I laughed. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Cazien placed his hand back on the wood. It blurred for an instant before the rough-hewn carving was all I could see.

  “You’re not Veetrish, are you?” I asked, thinking his gift similar to that of the Storytellers.

  “No,” he chuckled. “Not even a bit.”

  “Thanks for showing me whatever it was you just did.”

  “My pleasure.” He leapt back over the railing and onto the upper deck beside me. His next words caught me by surprise. “I have something to tell you, Rynnaia. Might I be bold?”

  “Except for when you’re being cryptic, I daresay you have no other way of speaking.” I laughed.

  “You love Julien.” He didn’t give me time to respond. “I’d have to be the weakest of the Andoven not to see it. When you’re near him your very colors intensify. Ah! That color in your cheeks confirms it.”

  When I tried to swallow, my mouth was dry. “It’s that obvious?”

  He grinned. “As are his feelings for you.”

  “Is that why you vex him so by flirting with me?”

  “I’m a pirate.” He shrugged. “It’s our way. But you needn’t worry that I have designs on E’veria’s Ryn. Even though I believe you would make a fine pirate,” he said with a wink, “nothing could ever come of a romance between E’veria’s Ryn and a Seahorse heir.”

  I frowned. “Not that I think of you that way of course, but . . . why not?”

  “I belong to the sea. You belong to the land. And we’re both sole heirs,” he continued. “Even if you had not already given your heart away, it would be foolish for me to seek it for myself. Besides,” his tone darkened and his gaze became somehow separated from the moment, “my future has already been deter—”

  “Land, ho!” The cry came from somewhere in the rigging far above us. “Port Dyn, dead ahead!”

  “Rynnaia,” he said slowly, “might I ask you an odd question?”

  I couldn’t imagine an odder conversation than that in which we’d just engaged. “I can’t promise to have the answer, but you’re welcome to ask.”

  “Julien said it was his sister who found the scrolls.”

  I nodded. “Yes. She did.”

  “Erielle was just a little girl when I last saw her.” He leaned against the railing and flicked the patch of hair beneath his lip. “I wasn’t much more than a boy myself. Wasn’t even captain yet.” A smile teased the corner of his mouth. “Still, she managed to knock me down and put a dagger to my throat.”

  I laughed. “That sounds like Erielle.”

  “What about Erielle?” Julien asked as he came up behind Cazien.

  Cazien’s smile fell for a moment, but when he turned toward Julien his expression was welcoming. “I was just telling Rynnaia about the time your family sailed with us and your sister tried to kill me.”

  A slow smile spread across Julien’s face and a chuckle rose from somewhere deep within his chest. The sound warmed me and seemed to ease the tension still occasionally sparking between the two men.

  “I’d nearly forgotten about that,” Julien said and laughed again. “She’s always been a discerning one, Erielle. If I remember right, she called you a ‘worthless sea dog’, too.”

  “That she did.” Cazien smiled, but his wasn’t as wide as Julien’s.

  “Why?” I aimed my question at Julien.

  My knight’s brow furrowed. “I don’t actually recall.” He shrugged. “But I do know my father nearly thrashed her for it.”

  I turned to Cazien. “Do you remember what happened?”

  He nodded. “It was over a picture I drew. It came out badly and I wouldn’t let her see it.”

  “That’s right,” Julien said, squinting as if trying to recall what was so wrong with the portrait. “You drew her to look older than she was, didn’t you? Or was it something about the eyes?”

  “It was both.” Cazien’s jaw worked a minute, almost as if he didn’t want to admit the problem with his art.

  “Captain?” A dark-skinned youth approached. “Do you have orders?”

  “Aye.” He nodded at Julien and then me. “Excuse me.”

  He turned to walk away. “Cazien? Wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me?”

  He shook his head no, but even as he walked away the question found my mind.

  What color are Erielle’s eyes?

  I blinked. Well, he’d said the question was odd.

  I know it seems odd. Even though his back was turned he saw my thought. But it’s important. What color are her eyes?

  I thought about it. Blue.

  They’re not green yet? Like Julien’s? He sounded surprised. Shocked, even. And perhaps even a little . . . relieved?

  No. Maybe a greenish sort of blue, but they’re nothing like Julien’s.

  And what did he mean by yet?

  I asked, but he was already engaged in shouting orders as we breached the port. All I received back from him were a few brief waves of confusion and then . . . nothing. Not even a swirl of gray.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was early evening when we finally docked. The scene at Port Dyn was the exact opposite from the foggy, sleepy stillness of the morning we’d left for Tirandov Isle. Movement marked every inch of space on the docks and on the ships moored there. Meredith sailed in unnoticed amongst the other red-and-white striped merchant flags, no one on shore the wiser that pirates were in their midst.

  A gruff sort of order reigned beneath the outward chaos of bickering sailors and merchants on the docks and the creaks and groans that accompanied the loading and unloading of barrels, crates, and casks.

  The southernmost port in E’veria, Port Dyn was on the cusp of spring. The day was warm enough that I could have gone without my cloak, but even though the sun would soon set, my appearance might cause a stir.

  “You’ve been quiet this afternoon,” Julien said softly. “What’s on your mind?”

  “The scrolls.” The poetry that would decide the future of E’veria was never far from my mind.

  “Oh, is that all?”

  “Is that all?”

  When I turned, the quirk of his lips and the sparkle in his bright green eyes told me that he was teasing.

  “Well, no, actually,” I admitted. “I’m also thinking about what it will be like to finally meet my father, while wondering if I’ll be any good at being a princess, and questioning how we’ll be able to figure out the scrolls’ mind-bending riddles enough to find the Remedy.” I sighed. “Everything is all jumbled up inside me. All twisted like that rope.” I pointed to the coil near our feat, braided around a belaying pin. “Except not nearly so neat.”

  Julien nodded and rubbed his beard. “I’ve tried to imagine what it would be like to meet my father for the first time and I find that I can’t. He’s been a constant presence since I was born. Even when he was away, as he often was, he was a known factor.” He shook his head. “The thought of us being strangers is beyond the reach of my imagination.” He paused. “Are you nervous?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And . . . no,” I contradicted myself and laughed
. “It’s odd. I’m not really that worried about what he will think of me anymore. I know who I am and I accept who he is. But to meet a King in person, and to think of being introduced to his subjects as one requesting their fealty after having been part of an elaborate deception? That, my friend, is a bit intimidating.” I let out a heavy breath. “I hope the Kingdom will give me a little . . . leeway,” I stole a term I’d heard aboard ship, “in figuring out how to be a princess.”

  “They will. If the people share even a fraction of the excitement I felt in discovering who you are, you will have all the time you need.”

  Julien’s confidence buoyed my spirit. “Thank you.”

  “Rynnaia.” Cazien stepped up beside me and spoke in a low voice. “It would probably be best if you wait below until the escort arrives from your father.”

  I had my hood up, but the breeze was strong. One displaced breath of wind could reveal me. I nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I sent your trunk on to the palace. I also spoke to your father.” He tapped his head and grinned. “I imagine your escort will arrive before your things even make it up the hill.”

  I followed his gaze up toward the cliffs where the white stone palace glistened in the light of the lowering sun. Something caught my attention that was different from the last time I had taken in this view. “What is that flag? The big one?”

  “That is the King’s flag,” Julien said. “It is raised only when he is in residence.”

  The King.

  My father.

  Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath to still the fluttering fairies in my stomach. When I succeeded, I found they’d left a question in their wake. “Do I have my own flag, too?”

  “Uh, no,” Julien said. His lip twitched. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Ah, don’t be too disappointed, Princess,” Cazien laughed. “Look there,” he said, pointing to the winding road that led from Holiday Palace to Port Dyn. “He’s practically sent an army for you!”

  Indeed, it was a large guard. At least twenty-five horses surrounded a carriage as it made its slow descent.

  “Is that an unusual way for him to transport a guest to the palace?”

  Cazien tilted his head. “Do you consider yourself his guest?”

  “Uhhh . . .”

  The pirate laughed again. “To answer your question, yes. It is unusual. And I probably should be offended, considering how famous and royal I am myself. Indeed! I do hope you impress some manners upon the King for receiving foreign dignitaries. All I usually get when I come into port is a message to the effect of ‘Have a nice walk up the hill, Caz. See you at table.’ Or something like that.”

  My eyes widened. “Truly?”

  “No.” He shook his head and slapped me on the back, but not too hard. “I’m jesting. Now, weren’t you about to go below?”

  “Why bother?” I looked toward the carriage and horses snaking down the cliff. “They’ll be here soon.”

  “Ah, but there you’re wrong. It’s market day in Port Dyn. The hawkers will make your escort’s passage slow. It could be two hours or more until they arrive. And since I am currently in charge of your safety,” Cazien said, eliciting an annoyed frown from Julien, “I must insist you remain out of sight.”

  The sun had almost disappeared by the time Cazien came to tell me my escort had arrived. I pulled my hood back up over my hair and followed him up the steep stairs to the deck.

  I paused at the gangplank. “Will I see you again, Cazien?”

  “Oh, yes. Most definitely. Perhaps sooner than you think.” He angled a thumb toward Julien, whose hand rested at my elbow. “Certainly sooner than he wishes you would.”

  Julien moved his hand from my elbow to the small of my back. “Do what you wish, pirate. I’ve a difficult time perceiving you as a threat of import.”

  The hand on my back was softly laid, but proprietarily so. Heat rushed to my face.

  Cazien laughed at my discomfort with a tone that said, “I told you so!” But when he addressed Julien, his expression lacked gaiety. “I’m glad you’ve chosen to postpone your dislike of me for a later date, de Gladiel,” he said, his countenance darkening. “I’ve no doubt it will serve you well in days yet to come.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  Cazien turned a suddenly wistful gaze my way. “I do wish I could tell you,” he said. “But since I can’t, it might save a lot of time if your knight just killed me now.”

  “Julien is not going to kill you.”

  “Not at the moment, anyway,” Julien inserted. His tone was dark, but his eyes danced with humor. “But I am intrigued that you might allow me to consider it in the future.”

  A thought from our earlier, interrupted conversation occurred to me. “Cazien, does this have anything to do with—”

  “Perhaps.”

  I was about to say “Erielle” but he heard the direction of my thought before I spoke it. “Would you care to elaborate?”

  “Not today,” he said. But soon, he added silently. And I hope our friendship does not suffer when that day arrives.

  I stared at him long and hard, but he didn’t flinch.

  “You are an incorrigible menace, pirate,” I said finally. “Will you ever cease tormenting me with cryptic, leading statements that you have no intention of decoding?”

  “Hmm.” He angled his eyes toward the mainmast and flicked his patch of beard. “It’s highly doubtful.”

  When Cazien returned his gaze to me, his grin once again sparkled with mischief and I couldn’t help but return it.

  Cazien leaned over to kiss my cheek, and as he did, he whispered in my ear. “Take heart, Rynnaia. Trust that you are exactly where you are supposed to be and that all will be made known to you when the time is right.”

  “You’re not speaking of Erielle anymore. This is about the scrolls, isn’t it?” I whispered back.

  “Yes.” His nod brushed the whiskery scruff of his cheek against the smooth skin of mine, but his next words sent an even bigger chill down my spine than did the tickle of his breath in my ear.

  “Your success will help ensure the future of my legacy, as well as your own. Take heart, cousin. I believe you are up to the task.”

  I swallowed and tamped down the anxiety his remark spawned in my chest. “But if I fail, the Kingdom will fall to the Cobelds.”

  His whisper was like a shrug, assuming and nonchalant, “Then don’t fail.”

  Cazien gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, and when he straightened, his voice boomed. “Now get off my ship, the lot of you. I’ve work to do and I can’t stand around mollycoddling a bunch of Andoven all day.” He winked, and with a swish of his cloak that gave me just a glimpse of its blue lining, strode away.

  Julien offered his arm and a grin. “Are you ready to go meet your father?” He chuckled. “I imagine he’s more than ready to meet you.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The closed-carriage ride through Port Dyn and up the winding path to Holiday Palace seemed to take forever, but it wasn’t my father who greeted me when I arrived.

  “Eri-ullgh?”

  Her name came out as more of a grunt than a greeting when Erielle careened into me and nearly crushed my bones in a hug. The force of it knocked the hood from my head. I panicked for a minute, worried about being recognized, until I remembered where I was.

  “You’re taking me with you!” Erielle cried. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” With each enthusiastic expression of gratitude her arms squeezed more tightly around me. “I’d contemplated returning to Mynissbyr, but when King Jarryn told me of your request, oh! I’m so glad I didn’t go!” She squealed. “Thank you! Thank you!”

  “Erielle, the Princess won’t be able to take you anywhere,” Julien said drily, “if she can’t breathe.”

  “Oh!” She let go. “Indeed. I’m sorry.”

  A furious red stained Erielle’s cheeks, which was quite unusual considering how difficult it was to embarras
s Julien’s little sister. She had accompanied Julien and me from Mynissbyr in order to assist with my disguise as Julien’s squire. Erielle was quite experienced in traveling the countryside disguised as a boy, but I was not. I desperately needed her help and she most willingly gave it. Over the course of those weeks we became good friends.

  “I’m so glad the King agreed to my request,” I said, but curiosity begged me to check the color of her eyes.

  They were a greenish sort of blue, as I’d told Cazien earlier, but compared to Julien’s emerald eyes? Definitely blue.

  Erielle frowned. “Is something . . . wrong?”

  “No.” I smiled and shook my head, idly wondering if my piratical cousin wasn’t slightly daft. But I didn’t have time to linger on the thought because as soon as Erielle took another step back, I noticed the knights.

  A few paces away, two men knelt with their heads bowed and their swords offered across open palms. Just beyond them, at a landing on the stair, a large portrait of my mother, painted when she must not have been much older than I was now, smiled down on us.

  I wasn’t sure who to approach first, but at least I knew what to say. The words were somehow engrained in my heart—one of the gifts I had discovered since learning I was the Ryn. I decided to approach them as I would words on a page: left to right.

  I carefully placed my open palms under the flat of the first knight’s sword and lifted it into the air. “I accept your sword, your fealty, and your service on behalf of my father, King Jarryn, my mother, the Queen, and myself in the hope that I will honor your faith in me.”

  Hmm. That came out differently than the last time I was in this situation. But it felt no less right.

  The knight arose and after I placed his sword back into his hands I looked up . . . up . . . into a face that was entirely familiar to me, and yet . . . not.

  “Gerrias de Gladiel?”

  His eyes widened. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Other than his height, he looked very little like his brother and nothing at all like his sister. Gerrias was very tall and had the same green—yes green—eyes as Julien. But there the similarity ended. His hair was as black as their father’s surely had been at the same age. Were it not for his relative youth, I might have mistaken Gerrias for their father, Sir Gladiel de Vonsar.