by Jeanne Hardt
“No. I will sit over there.” She motioned to a small wood table next to a window, where abundant light shined through.
“I shall put it on the table for you.” His tiny steps made it appear as if his feet were not moving. He was an odd little man with a pointed bald head and bushy eyebrows. His back horribly curved from years of sitting on a wooden stool, leaning over his work.
He laid the book down, then placed a chair for her. “I shall leave you to study. Remember, I warned you of the contents. I do not care to have the king chastise me for exposing you to such horror.”
“Father trusts my judgement.” She happily sat. “Thank you again for your concern.”
Bartholomew wandered away, but warily looked over his shoulder before disappearing from view.
Why should Olivia be afraid? After all, a book could bring her no harm.
She opened the first pages and found the history began more than five hundred years ago. Much too far back for her needs.
She turned to the final pages and quickly scanned them. They told of the first crossing and the celebration that followed. Queen Madeline and King Jordan were still alive, and they had just had their son, Jamin. Olivia’s great-grandfather. Those were happy times. No doubt, the history after the crossing must have been recorded in a different volume. The one Bartholomew had wanted to give her.
She went backward through the pages until she came to the war. The very reason they had left their homeland. King Jordan had tired from the never-ending battles, and soon Madeline would give birth. Because he wanted a better life for his child, they fled in the night, taking all their remaining people with them. Only fifty in number.
She needed to go back even farther, so she flipped a few more pages and ran her finger along the words.
A single one caught her eye. She froze and stared at what had been written.
Basilia’s strength will soon conquer us. We are outmatched, bloodied, and beaten. The king is not certain how much longer we can hold on.
Basilia. Their greatest enemy. The kingdom that had driven them from their land. How could she have forgotten such an important detail?
A heavy pit formed in her stomach. If only she had never read the words.
She closed the book with a thump.
Bartholomew instantly came to her, frowning. “I warned you. Evil things are written there.”
Silently, she nodded. She rose from the table, squeaked out a meek thank you, and fled back to the safety of the castle.
Bartholomew did not understand what had truly upset her. She had been communicating with an enemy. The wisest thing she could do would be to burn the letters and stay away from the wall. If she did not return there, Sebastian might leave.
If anyone in Padrida knew they had been found by Basilians, fear would return to the people and bring about unrest.
She paced in her room, hoping to grasp the right solution.
Without a doubt, she believed Sebastian could answer all her questions. Though an enemy, he could tell her about the outside world.
She never imagined she would find herself in such a predicament.
Perhaps fate needed to lend a hand. She would shoot the arrow and let it fall. If it went into the canyon, she would see it as a sign it was never meant to be read. And if it fell at Sebastian’s feet, then she hoped he would no longer be an enemy.
* * *
Olivia stood from the supper table. She had an arrow to shoot. “Excuse me,” she said and nodded out of respect to her father.
He grabbed her hand. “Sit. You have scarcely touched your food.”
She stared at him. Why of all nights did he select this particular one to stop her from leaving?
She offered her politest smile. “I assure you, I have had plenty.”
He pointed a stiff finger at her chair, and she reluctantly sat.
“Livvy . . .” He leaned close. “This is the only time of day you can observe the men of the kingdom. Look about. Your mother and I have waited long enough. You must select a suitor. If you cannot decide, we shall choose for you.”
“Yes, Father.” Had the incident with Donovan made them impatient? Maybe she should take this as a sign. The letter was not meant to be delivered, and she needed to focus her attention inward.
“Just yesterday, your mother mentioned the woodworker, Avan. Do you find him appealing?”
Olivia followed her father’s gaze and was met with a grin from Avan. Could he be aware he was under consideration? Quite different from Donovan, Avan had straight blond hair that touched the tops of his shoulders, blue eyes, and no dimple. Most importantly, he was known to be chaste.
Yes, she found him attractive, but they had never even said one word to each other.
“He is handsome, Father. Am I to name him?”
“Now, you are eager?” He gestured to her rustling skirt.
She nervously bounced her leg. “Truthfully,” she whispered in his ear. “I need to relieve myself.”
Her father shook his head and chuckled. “Then go, my dear. Some matters are more urgent than others.”
She stood, curtsied, and flew out the back entrance. Soon, people would fill the courtyard, then she risked being seen going to the wall. It mattered not if they saw her return, but she could not risk being stopped or followed.
After a brief pause at the weapons storage, she left the castle, hurried through the courtyard, and fled down the overgrown path to the gate. Long ago, the path had been a road traveled daily and clear of grass and brush. Now it looked like part of the meadow.
She reached the wall, completely out of breath. With her back pressed to the cold stone, she deeply inhaled. Once composed, she dug for the spyglass, then lifted it to her eye.
Her heart continued to pound and she feared it might fail her at any moment. When she spotted Sebastian pacing, she grinned.
She quickly glanced around her, then bolstered her courage. “Stand back!”
Sebastian crouched low, seemingly startled. Perhaps he had not understood her words.
She kept watching him, then laughed when he jumped to his feet and peered at her through his spyglass.
She decided to try something else. “Move away!” She waved him back.
This time, he disappeared from sight.
Olivia took a large breath, placed the arrow against the string, and used all her strength to draw it back. She squinted at the bright-shining sun and said a silent prayer.
It is in your hands.
She scanned the canyon, aimed the bow a bit higher, blew out her breath, and let the arrow fly. Her heartbeat pulsed and throbbed in her neck. The arrow spun and whirled through the air, perfectly arched.
Never before had she shot so keenly.
“Ow!”
No . . .
Sebastian’s scream wrenched her heart.
She clutched her bosom. “I have killed him . . .”
Though she dreaded what she might see, she had to look. The spyglass trembled in her grasp. She could barely keep it secured to her face.
Sebastian walked out from the trees and waved the arrow in the air, seemingly unharmed. In addition, she swore he was laughing.
The sight both relieved and bothered her. Why had he screamed? “I thought I pierced you!”
“No! You grazed my companion!”
The pit in her stomach grew. He had not come alone. He could very well have an army of Basilians waiting to attack.
She should have had more sense and shown the letter to her father.
Heavy-hearted, she turned to leave.
“Wait!”
She pinched her eyes shut, stopped, and faced him.
Sebastian cupped his hands to the sides of his mouth. “I will read your letter, then come again tomorrow!”
“No! You must read it and leave!”
“Why?” His pained yell tugged at her heart.
She chose not to answer and fled from the wall to the safety of her room. Once he read the letter, he would run fro
m the forest and never look back.
Chapter 12
“Oh, God, it hurts!” Jonah cringed as Sebastian bound the bleeding wound. Olivia’s arrow had passed through the skin of his upper thigh and created a long, narrow gash.
He had wailed all the way back to the campsite, and Sebastian feared they would be discovered. “Stop acting like child. You have a mere flesh wound. The arrow barely touched your skin.” Sebastian tied off the end of the torn cloth. “Catrice is only seven and she yowled less than you when she broke her arm.”
Jonah pinched his lips together and scowled. “I tell you, it hurts!” He tried to sit upright, but grimaced and flopped back on his bedding.
“For heaven’s sake, be a man. Even men in battle with limbs dangling at their sides are able to keep their minds on the task at hand.”
“You have never been in battle. How do you know?”
“Stories.” Sebastian gave him a stern eye, then stepped away. “Since I have tended your leg and you will certainly not die, please allow me to read her letter.”
“I hope she writes better than she shoots,” Jonah mumbled.
“We shall see. Shall I read it aloud?”
“Please do. I need something to take my mind off my misery.”
Before settling down to open the parchment, Sebastian placed a few more logs on the fire. Darkness set in by the moment, and he needed more light to read by.
A letter in return was an unexpected, but pleasant surprise. Her parchment was not as fine as his, but good quality nonetheless.
Nervous anticipation flooded over him. Sweat dampened his hands, so he wiped them on his tunic and began to read.
Prince Sebastian,
There is much to say. I fear I cannot tell all in one letter. A book would be necessary to share the tale of my kingdom. Therefore, I will relate what is most crucial.
First, you are in grave danger. The Black Wood, as you call it, holds an evil that killed many people of our realm. Do not stay in the forest.
“Stop.” Jonah held up his hand. “I knew we were in danger.”
“I shall not stop. Nothing has threatened us here.”
“Yet.” Grumbling, Jonah crossed his arms.
Sebastian feared nothing. He assumed Olivia had been told the same stories he had. After more than one night in Black Wood, he felt confident it held no evil.
He cleared his throat and ignored Jonah’s peevishness.
Our kingdom is ruled by King Boden. His great grandfather, King Roland, fled an unwinnable war and found the land we now call Padrida. Weary of the deaths of his people, he yearned to give them a better life.
In the beginning, people traveled freely from Padrida into the forest, until a huntsman brought death from the woods. It killed him and eventually more than twenty of our people, including the king and queen. Before he died, King Roland issued a decree that forbid anyone to leave. He had the words carved on the gate, then sealed it forever, never to be reopened.
Our dead were burned and the evil left us. However, before they died, they suffered. They writhed in pain and screamed. Their mouths emitted foaming saliva as the evil spewed forth. When their bodies could take no more, they succumbed to death.
No evil has come to us since that horrible time. As long as we remain within these walls, we are safe, and by our law, no one can leave.
You have no place here and no hope for a bride. There is but one princess, yet her blood is not pure. Four generations of breeding with commoners has weakened the royal bloodline. Our kings had no other option, and our people have always given respect to the king’s selection and honored her as queen.
You saw me by the wall because unlike others, I am not content. I have longed to see what is beyond the forest. There are stories of bodies of water so vast the edge cannot be seen and kingdoms larger than a range of mountains. I have had dreams of traveling far, but only dreams.
Are such things real?
I would give anything to sit with you, even if only for a day, so I might hear true tales of what I cannot see. That, too, shall be a dream. You must go and never return. I fear evil may already reside within you. It takes time to manifest itself. I shall pray I am mistaken.
I beg of you, keep Padrida in your heart and mind, but do not speak of it. We must remain safely hidden.
Olivia, servant to the queen.
Jonah jerked upright and patted his chest. “Within us?” His fear-filled eyes widened. “Good, God! Of what does she speak? What could be within us?”
Sebastian kept calm and stared at the flickering firelight. She had to be mistaken. “The evil she speaks of must be superstition. Nothing real.”
“Superstition?” Jonah’s timid voice squeaked. “How does superstition cause a man to rave in agony and spew from the mouth?” He tried to stand. “We must leave now.”
“No.” Sebastian stood firm. “Nothing resides within us. The symptoms she describes are something I have heard of before. Madness brought on by illness.”
Jonah pushed himself off the ground. “I do not intend to stay and find out.” He winced, grabbed his wound, and plopped down onto the forest floor.
The fire danced before Sebastian’s eyes. Mesmerized by the flames and Olivia’s words, he paid little attention to Jonah. “She writes like a poet.” His words came out in a whisper, caught up in her dreams.
“Excuse me!”
Sebastian waved him away and read the letter again.
“Sebastian!” Jonah grunted. “Your Highness!”
Sebastian whipped around. “What?”
“We. Need. To. Leave.” Each word grew in intensity.
“No. She deserves to know about our world. How would you like to be locked in a cage, unable to go about as you please?”
“I am currently locked in the middle of a wretched forest with God-only-knows-what living within me. I know her pain.”
Sebastian stomped across the dirt and knelt beside Jonah. “I will answer her, and tomorrow we will go back and deliver the letter. We shall leave when I say. Do you understand?”
Jonah shifted his body, then lowered his eyes. “Yes.” He sat tall, breathing hard, then stared straight at Sebastian. “I understand you are crazed and at any moment I expect to see bubbling drool coming from your lips. I may not be possessed, but you certainly are.”
Sebastian scuffed the top of Jonah’s head, then returned to his place at the fire. “Not only are you being unreasonable, it seems you have forgotten you are speaking to a prince.”
“You bring that up at the most opportune moments.” He grunted. “Can you please come help me to my feet? I would like to be near the flames.”
It was not an unreasonable request. Darkness brought cold air with it, and a slight breeze made it even colder.
He extended his hand to Jonah and lifted him from the ground. Then, he circled Jonah’s waist with one arm and helped him hobble to the fire. Why such a small cut on his leg caused so much pain puzzled Sebastian.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you.” Jonah leaned close and peered deeply into Sebastian’s eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for signs.”
“Of what?”
Jonah squinted. “Evil.”
Sebastian threw his hands in the air. “I am not possessed!”
“How do you know? Have you ever been possessed before?”
Sebastian refused to lower himself to answer such a ridiculous question. Instead, he pulled up a log and sat down, putting his back to Jonah. He then read Olivia’s letter one more time.
She spoke of war. The wars of old were long ago, led by his great, great, grandfather.
Something wrenched Sebastian’s gut. The story of a king—defeated in battle—who disappeared along with all his people. They left their homes in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. Their departure was the high king’s greatest conquest. He gained more land than held by any other kingdom. More than that, he was seen as the mi
ghtiest warrior in all the realms. He attained peace through fear, and thus became high king, placing Basilian authority above all others, no matter the kingdom.
“Sebastian?” Jonah whispered.
“Not now. I tire of your constant complaints.”
“But . . . there is . . .”
“What?” Sebastian huffed.
“An enormous spider is creeping up your back.”
Sebastian turned his head. “Stop playing games. Honestly, I prefer listening to you go on about women.”
“But . . .” Jonah pointed.
Sebastian twisted his head enough to see it. A spider the size of his fist. Never before had he seen anything like it, and it was likely poisonous. It had climbed so high, its hairy legs tickled his neck.
Quick as a flash, he swiped the insect away and sent it flying into the flames.
Grimacing, Jonah bent over the fire, then grabbed a stick and poked at the dying spider. “Can we go now?”
“No. However, I promise you, we will go soon. Just give me tomorrow. And then . . .”
“Yes?”
“We may be on our way to Oros.”
In the firelight, Jonah’s smile appeared crooked and deranged, but Sebastian knew it to be genuine. He had been begging to leave. Spiders, snakes, a mysterious evil—Black Wood lacked pleasantry.
Yet, the poetic words of Olivia made up for all of it. And though Jonah might be pleased at the prospect of leaving, Sebastian wanted to stay.
* * *
Olivia held Sebastian’s letter before her. Candlelight fluttered on the parchment, hypnotically making her weary.
Ready to dream, she lay back and pressed her head deep into the softness of her pillow.
She longed to see him close enough to look into his eyes. Not only to see their color, but to gaze even deeper into his soul.
Her fingers glided over the letter and a tingle crept down her spine. His hand had touched this very spot. She pulled it to her nose and inhaled the scent of wood smoke.
She giggled. Perhaps she should have dusted his letter with bath powder. Something pleasant.
No. That would be unwise and much too forward. She could never have him, so it was imperative to dismiss thoughts of him.
Still, his letter was too pure and fine to cast aside. Looking at it brought about thoughts she had not had since . . .
