The Remedy (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  “Princess Rynnaia.”

  I hadn’t even realized that Julien had risen from his chair until he stood beside mine. “Might I have the pleasure of your company for a stroll in the gardens?”

  I swallowed. “A stroll, Sir Julien?”

  Was he asking what I thought he was asking?

  “The paths are well lit,” he explained. “And the moon is full. But if you’re too tired, I understand.”

  “No, I’m not tired, but—” I bit my lip and looked at my father.

  A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth and he appeared as if he were trying to look stern as he gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

  I slipped my hand into Julien’s and rose from my chair. “It would be my pleasure, Sir Julien.”

  He tucked my hand in the crook of his arm, gave a short bow to my father, and led me from the dining hall. As we crossed to the opposite doors by which I had entered, I was conscious of many eyes boring into my back and not a few sharply colored pings of male jealousy directed toward Julien—and a few more vivid, of the feminine variety, toward me. But amidst the varying spectrum swirling about, I was able to isolate one that was particularly sweet with laughter.

  “Erielle . . .” I whispered, turning slightly back toward the room. I turned and the little imp gave me a slow, knowing wink.

  “I’d rather hoped we could have the gardens to ourselves,” Julien spoke in a low voice that none but I would hear. “But if you’d prefer to have my little sister accompany us, I will, of course, oblige.”

  “No, I just—” When I saw the sparkle in his eyes I knew he was joking.

  A tingle travelled from the crook of my arm, where it entwined with his, and through the rest of me, settling with a jumpy sort of rhythm in my belly. We exited the dining hall, walked through another unfamiliar set of corridors, and finally ended up at the landing of a stairwell. When I looked to my right, I noted that it spilled out near the entrance by which I had arrived at Holiday Palace. To my left, it descended toward another wide corridor. It was in that direction we turned and kept walking for some time.

  “Are the palace gardens in Salderyn, Julien?” I teased. “For I believe we shall be in the capital city shortly.”

  He chuckled. “We’re almost there.”

  And indeed, as soon as we turned another corner we met a wall of glass doors and windows that sparkled with the glow of countless high-hung lamps beyond.

  A man stepped out of the shadows as if he had been waiting there for the express purpose of opening the doors for us. Perhaps he had. A sea-born breeze touched my face with a tender chill that didn’t linger as we crossed the marble terrace and continued down the wide-carved steps to the gardens below.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A low green hedge bordered the garden path, carrying the scent of lavender, but a sweeter variety than that with which I was familiar. In the way of statuary, there was very little, unlike the gardens on Tirandov Isle, where glowing Tirandite stone was used as both light and art, but some of the plants themselves were carved into shapes of animals, people, and creatures caught somewhere in between. The light of the moon gave an extra measure of visibility, but in truth, the plentiful lamps were more than enough to ease our way. We turned a gentle corner and a mixture of deeply sweet and slightly spicy rose perfumes caressed my nose.

  “Ohhh.”

  Julien paused. “This is your mother’s rose garden.”

  We had stopped directly in front of an arching arbor which was covered in tiny blooms. It was too dark to discern their exact color, but I imagined them to be somewhere between white and pink.

  I inhaled the delicate perfume. “I could close my eyes and it would still be just as beautiful.”

  “To me, it appears as little more than bracken and thorn, when compared to you.”

  So this was courtship. I ducked my head. “You flatter me.”

  “Not a bit.” With one finger he lifted my chin. “I assume you know that I asked your father’s permission to court you.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t know for sure, but when he asked to speak to you privately, I wondered if it would come up.”

  “It was the oddest conversation,” Julien smiled. “One moment we were discussing the weather. The weather of all things!” He laughed. “And the next he was asking what my intentions were toward his daughter. I’d not seen that side of him before.”

  “He’s had no need to show it.”

  He nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Princess Rynnaia?” The tiniest hint of doubt colored his words. I wrinkled my nose at the formal address. “Would you be agreeable to accepting my courtship?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you certain? I don’t want you to feel obligated to accept my suit because of the time we’ve already spent together.”

  “I don’t.”

  He went on as if he hadn’t heard me. “You’ve not had the opportunities other young ladies have had to pick among suitors. I saw many of the knights at table glancing your way. Pedar, Owen, Kile . . . they’re all worthy knights. Men of whom your father would approve. Men who would be—”

  “Julien, stop.” I placed a finger on his lips. “I’m sure there are hundreds of good men in E’veria, but there is only one who could hold my heart the way you do. You have my heart, Julien. There’s no one else for me.”

  If possible, the color of his eyes seemed to deepen to a green in which I could nearly drown.

  I took a step back, crossed my arms at my chest, and gave him the smile few outside of Veetri had seen. “In fact, you’ve held my heart for quite some time, you thickheaded Bear-man. So you’d best accept it and commence with the courting, lest my dagger find a new mark upon your arm.”

  “I never thought I’d court a Veetrish girl,” he said. “Especially one with such violent leanings.”

  “And I never dreamed I’d desire the attention of a legendary brute,” I parried. “Especially one with such detestable taste in horses.”

  I winced, wondering if Salvador could hear me from the stables, and if so, I hoped the giant gray horse would know I spoke in jest.

  Julien, however he may have wondered about my desire to accept his courtship, had no doubts concerning my affection for his horse. A smile spread across his face and my own soon mirrored it. Any residual doubt melted away. The deeper our gazes connected, the tighter the coil with which our hearts wound round each other, and something familiar, yet not entirely discovered, simmered beneath the surface of my skin. It lingered just beyond my reach but was full of promise.

  Julien reached for my hand and brought it to his lips.

  Color exploded from my mind, down my arm, and through my fingers to his lips, a spinning whorl of green and gold and orange and blue. Julien’s colors and mine, dancing to the tune of his touch.

  “Oh, there you are, Julien.” Kinley’s voice stilled the orchestra in my mind. “I wondered where you’d—oh.”

  I froze, but didn’t turn around.

  “My apologies, Sir Julien,” Kinley said. “It would seem I’ve come upon you at a most inopportune time, my friend.”

  I waited, expecting to hear his retreating footsteps. When no sound came, I turned around, feeling a little like a child caught with my finger in the pudding before it made it to table.

  “Rose?” Kinley’s smile fell. I didn’t correct him. “Are you . . . ?” he began, but then thought better of it. “Does the King . . . ?”

  “Yes,” I nodded. “And yes.”

  His eyebrows lifted, and as they lowered the grin that took over his face was one I knew well.

  I narrowed my eyes. Oh, yes, I knew that look and of what it was a portent. And I wasn’t about to let my big brother spoil my introduction to the art of courtship. I turned the rest of the way around and put my hands on my hips. “I believe you were about to go, weren’t you, Kinley?”

  “Was I?”

  He stood only a few feet away, grinning as if he hadn’t anything better to do with his time t
han to make my skin catch on fire from embarrassment. Resting the elbow of his right arm in his left hand, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger over the beard encircling his mouth.

  “Yes,” Julien said. “You were.”

  “And yet,” Kinley countered, “I can’t quite bring myself to leave. I could have sworn I saw my best friend kissing my sister’s hand! But I suppose I could’ve been mistaken.”

  Julien’s voice was dry. “Your timing is rather rotten, de Whittier.”

  “My apologies.”

  “And yet,” my suitor copied my brother’s tone, “you don’t really seem all that apologetic.”

  Kinley just grinned, and when I looked at Julien, he was grinning back at his friend.

  “This has been fun, but I suppose we really should be going to the council soon,” Kinley said finally. “While you two have been meandering the gardens, the hour has nearly passed.”

  A moment of panic seized me. “I don’t know if I can find my chamber by myself.”

  “I’ll escort you back there after the council,” Julien said. “Or perhaps your father will. Don’t worry.”

  “Where should I go until then?”

  “You’re the Ryn,” Julien explained. “You’ll be expected at the council.”

  Ah. Of course.

  I am the Ryn.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Too busy trying to identify landmarks that might help me navigate the immense palace on my own, I spoke little on the long walk to the war room. If they noticed my preoccupation, neither Julien nor Kinley mentioned it.

  A sudden feeling of suffocation pressed down upon my chest and I paused mid-step. Apart from the hours spent in sleep, was a princess ever allowed to be alone?

  Julien rested his free hand upon mine, which was in the crook of his arm. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” I said. He nodded, but even though the look in his eyes was not convinced, he didn’t press.

  Eventually we came to the correct door. Made of dark wood, it bore a carving of two swords, crossed, and above them, as if nestled into the point at which the blades met, was the diamond-in-a-circle design known as the Emblem of the First. Above the Emblem appeared a series of words that, to one who couldn’t translate the Ancient Voice, appeared to be nonsense.

  “Wait.”

  Both Kinley and Julien paused. I stared at the words and they seemed to take on motion, though I knew the knights would see no change. Accessing another one of my Andoven gifts, the letters and symbols rearranged themselves until they became readable script.

  “Every choice a battle,” I read aloud. “Every battle a choice.”

  Julien nodded. “It’s the slogan of the King’s Army. It reminds us to be wise, purposed, honest, and discerning.”

  “Indeed,” I said. Kinley’s hand was already on the doorknob. I nodded and he opened the door.

  I recognized the War Room. Though I had never been here in person, the first time I’d successfully contacted my father from Tirandov Isle my mind had found him here.

  The room was long with an extended oval table at its center. At the far end, where I would have expected a window, open wooden compartments were built into the wall, each housing collections of scrolls.

  My father was the only person in the War Room when we entered. He stood at the end of the long table, bending over a scroll that was unrolled and weighted at each corner by a round black stone the size of my palm.

  “Rynnaia.” He looked up and smiled. “Did you enjoy the gardens?”

  “Very much. I can hardly wait to see them in the daylight.”

  “Ah, I see you’ve brought a pair of my knights with you. The rest of the council should be arriving shortly. If you’d like, I can brief you on the strategy of which they’re already aware.”

  I moved to join him. “I’m curious to know who you’ve picked to send with me to Mount Shireya.”

  He nodded, but looked troubled. “I wish it were all of them. But stealth will not allow it. I’ve asked Kinley to join you.”

  I shot a relieved glance at my “brother.”

  “Besides Kinley and Julien, I’m sending two additional knights. Gerrias de Gladiel and Risson de Sair.”

  Ah. Sir Risson, who had been seated next to me at dinner. He had a good ten to fifteen years on the other knights and I sensed a thoughtful patience about him that would likely temper the relative youth of the rest of us.

  “Although Erielle is to serve as your companion, she is not without skill and will also provide a reasonable defense should the need arise.” His sigh suggested he was still not convinced of the wisdom behind my request to include Julien’s sixteen-year-old sister on our quest, but he did not voice his concerns. “And with Dyfnel and Edru rounding out your number, I expect you still might gain a little more notice than I’m comfortable with on your travels.”

  “We could split up for the first part of the journey,” Kinley said. “Send half the team ahead into Shireya.”

  My father pursed his lips and nodded. “It would help. But I’m still concerned that Rynnaia should be guarded well enough. Especially since she will have been made known.”

  I tilted my head. “But that won’t really be a danger beyond Port Dyn for a while, will it? Even the fastest horses couldn’t spread the news through all nine provinces in the time it will take us to reach the mountain.”

  “Under normal circumstances, no. But I did not wish to seem to favor the southern provinces with the news and cause even more unrest. Therefore, before I left Castle Rynwyk I dispatched teams of messengers to all the Regents with instructions to decode and deliver their missives on the fifteenth day of this month,” he said. “My letter charges the Regents with spreading the news throughout their individual provinces that the Ryn and the Queen live.”

  My heart beat a little faster. In only three days I would be known not only here and on Tirandov Isle, but throughout all E’veria. To friend and foe alike. What would that mean? What would the people expect from me? How would they respond to finding out their King had lied to them for nearly twenty years?

  I gave a slight shake of my head to ward off my fear that I might better attune to my father’s voice.

  “At the same time I dispatched those messengers, I invited various nobles from all nine provinces to a ball at Holiday Palace.”

  Did he say a ball? Surely not. Not now. I must have misheard him. “You invited nobles to come here, but you didn’t invite the Regents?”

  “In these dark days, I believe it unwise for the Regents to stray too far from their homes. For most of our provinces,” he paused, and a sad smile rested on Julien, “the people need the sense of order a Regent’s presence can bring.”

  “Ah.” I nodded. Mynissbyr’s Regent, Sir Gladiel, could not bring that to his people. But then again, Mynissbyr was sparsely populated and protected as much by its legends as by the Regent’s men.

  “In any case,” my father continued, “the nobles were given express instructions to arrive at the palace no earlier than the morning of the sixteenth and told the ball would be held the following evening. It would appear that those messages, at least, made it through. Many are already in Port Dyn.”

  I thought I had misunderstood him earlier, but there it was again. “A ball?” I made a face and almost laughed. “You would throw a ball . . . now?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Absolutely, yes. The Ryn is alive. The Queen is alive. A celebration of some kind is both politically and emotionally necessary for the health and well-being of the Kingdom.” He paused. “Also, we need witnesses from noble families, people who have actually seen you, to take the truth of your survival back to their home provinces.”

  “I see.” A ball made sense, I supposed, when he put it that way.

  He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. “This ball will be a trifling event compared to what shall come, my dear girl. After you’ve returned from retrieving the Remedy and your mother’s health has been restored, we will celebrate
your official installment at Castle Rynwyk, a feast from which my personal coffers will not soon recover, so vast will the celebration be!”

  “At the Academy they taught us that, traditionally, the Ryn is officially installed on the first day of a new season,” Kinley said, his brow creasing as he traced a path from Holiday Palace to Mount Shireya and to Castle Rynwyk in the capital city of Salderyn.

  “Traditionally,” Julien said drily, “the Ryn is installed as an infant.”

  “True.” Kinley nodded. “But the first day of summer is an ambitious timeline. Unless you are looking toward autumn, of course, Your Majesty.”

  “I am not.”

  I blinked, my eyes following the path Kinley’s finger had just taken with disbelief. “So that means I have just two months and seven days to find the Remedy, ship it to Mother, defeat the Cobeld curse, and travel to Salderyn for my installation.”

  “If the installation has to be postponed, that is the least of my worries,” he said. “But I’ve never yet set an ambitious timeline that has not been met. The important thing is that the enemy believes you are traveling with me to Salderyn rather than seeking the Remedy. If we can convince them of that, it might afford you the time necessary to make it to Mount Shireya undetected.”

  And then the real danger begins, I thought.

  My father’s head jerked. I winced. I closed my eyes and mentally reached for the strands of gray that would protect my father from seeing my darker thoughts.

  “Would that it was anyone else going but you,” he whispered fiercely.

  The door opened then, but my father only tightened his tender grip on me.

  I was intensely curious to observe my father leading his knights. But if I was totally honest with myself, I had to admit that I was curious to watch my father do anything at all. For so many years I had wondered about him. What he looked like, the sound of his voice, his name . . . now I knew all those things, but I’d only scratched the surface of who he really was. King, knight, husband, father—I wanted to see him move through every bit of his identity and know him better for it.