“Destaurians?”
“It was a group of four, maybe five in all. My men tracked their footprints to a cache of civilian clothing and shoes in the forest. It’s possible the strangers had been posing as townspeople, and they were on their way out.”
“They were spies,” Alessa said.
“Perhaps so. At least two were young women. The prince suspects he may have killed one of them, but we didn’t find a body. The group fled over the southern border. I have scouts searching everywhere just to make sure there are no others. Your property is safe; we cleared it last night. I have men stationed throughout the southern forest, but you’ll never see them.”
Alessa was hardly comfortable with the idea of soldiers lurking in her forest while she and Elaina bathed naked. “They were spies for sure,” she said. “And I don’t think their attack was planned. I bet they just came across the hunters by chance.”
“Possibly.” Valeriy leaned forward in his chair. “If you don’t mind, if my messenger never delivered the message, how did you find out about the attack? We’re trying to keep this quiet, you know.”
“You shouldn’t have to ask.”
“Yes,” he said, nervously cracking his knuckles as he sat back. “Yes, forgive me. By the way, how is Elaina?”
“She’s well. You’d be amazed at how she’s grown. And your daughter will be eighteen soon, won’t she?”
“Yes, yes. Nastasha is an exceptional young lady. Refined, full of love for life, and just as brilliant as her mother. I’m so proud of her. But I worry, too. Maybe I worry too much.”
“So how do we proceed?”
“Honestly, Alessa, it would be best for you and Elaina to go about your usual business for now. I don’t know what happened with my envoy this morning; but I assure you, if there is any news, you’ll know.”
“She rides every afternoon. Sometimes a good distance.”
“I know. And she can continue to do so safely.”
“Our lives are in your hands,” said Alessa, getting up. “Don’t forget that.”
“I haven’t.”
“Regards to Her Majesty,” Alessa raised her hood back over her head.
“Of course.”
She raced back home on Tyrant. The young man she had passed earlier was now crouched beneath a wagon. Alessa rode by.
By the time she finished milking the cows that night, Elaina was exhausted. Her eyes were sore from squinting to see in the poorly-lit barn; her cheeks were flushed from fatigue. With one last bucket of milk left to pour into the warming machine, she was hoping to finally be able to quiet her mind from all of the day’s excitement, when something stirred just outside the barn’s back door. Tran had already dropped off his ice, so it couldn’t have been him.
“Fabian, is that you?” she called. That cat was always startling her.
Elaina raised her lamp toward the doorway, and there was Jaimin. “Oh,” she gasped, nearly dropping the lamp. Jaimin took off his hood, confident that she wouldn’t recognize him, but she welcomed him with a warm smile, and said, “Hello again.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I’m Elaina,” said Elaina, holding out her hand.
Jaimin had never shaken hands with a girl; the girls in the castle invariably greeted him with a curtsey. He cautiously shook her hand without removing his glove.
“Elaina,” he said. “You remember me.”
“Of course,” she said. “It was only last night that we met.”
They took a moment to look each other over. Jaimin thought her face was rounder than he remembered. The lines of her brows, cheeks, and nose were soft and appealing; her lips were the perfect fullness. The very slight narrowing of her eyes and deep brown of her irises lent her an exotic air—a hint, perhaps, of another race not too far back in her ancestry. Her thick hair had a gloss to it, and her skin shone smooth and clear, with a subtle blush from the evening’s work. Her feminine curves were evident beneath the young man’s work clothes she wore. All in all, she was every bit as enchanting as he remembered.
Elaina noticed Jaimin was slightly shorter than she was. He also looked younger than she remembered: perhaps the pain had made him look older the night before. He definitely had very curly hair as she had presumed. She’d also been right about his blackish, glossy eyes.
“May I offer you something to drink?” she asked, holding up the bucket. “Some milk, perhaps?”
He smiled and they both felt more at ease. “I’d like that.”
“Please, have a seat,” she motioned toward a bale of hay just behind him. She retrieved a wooden cup from the tool rack, filled it halfway with milk from her bucket, and presented it to her guest. Jaimin had left space for her to sit beside him, but she didn’t want to get that close.
“Thank you,” he said.
She crouched to examine his feet. “Which one was it again?”
“My right foot. It turned out to be broken.”
“Goodness!” She tipped her head to see around his right boot. “I don’t see a cast.”
“There’s no cast,” he said. “It’s healed.”
She set down her lamp nearby and sat on the ground, cross legged, facing him. He was fascinated. He had never seen a girl sit that way. “So you saw a mender?”
Jaimin took a moment to consider whether there was any reason not to tell Elaina how he had recovered. If there was a reason, it eluded him. “I am a mender.”
She laughed.
“Is that so funny?”
“I broke my wrist just last month and the doctor tried to talk me into seeing a mender. ‘No way,’ I said. ‘That’s just too strange.’”
“I understand your reluctance. But it’s really quite safe. The last thing I want to do is hurt someone I care about.”
“And have you ever hurt anyone?” she asked.
“Not once. The patient’s body guides you to mend correctly. You might not do enough, but the body won’t let you put things worse than they were before.” He knew this wasn’t entirely true—a mender with bad intent could overpower the body’s will.
“Scary.”
“Would you like me to look at your wrist, then?”
She held her wrist, guarding it. “Oh, I wouldn’t ask you to. I mean, I don’t doubt you know what you’re doing…”
“Just a look,” he said. “I can let you know if it’s healing properly.”
“How exactly does it work?” she asked.
“It starts with intent. A desire to see, to know, the area you are working on, and to help. When I touch the person, everything around me fades and I begin to visualize the injured area, the whole structure at once, from all sides at the same time and through each layer of flesh and bone, in a million colors, down to the tiniest molecule. I get an idea of what it should look like whole, and move the bits to where they belong! Actually, it’s almost as if they move themselves.”
She unwrapped a fabric brace from her left wrist and offered him her arm.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded. “I don’t even know you. I probably will regret this, but somehow I trust you,” she said. “But just a look.”
He removed his gloves and she scooted closer to him. He took gentle hold of her wrist, his eyes closed, and right away she felt his consciousness enter her arm. At first she was petrified, afraid to move to the right or left, afraid she might die if she pulled away, but she soon began to enjoy the sensation of him working inside of her.
Before long, Jaimin’s presence slithered out of her and his eyes flickered open. “It’s still messed up,” he said. “It’s not going to heal right. What did you do to it?”
“I’m embarrassed to say.”
“No matter,” he said, his eyelids already feeling heavy. “I can fix it, with your permission.”
“Yes,” she said. “Please.” She cared more about feeling his spirit inside her again than about her wrist. She liked how he felt: the attention, so intimate.
He smiled. “There’s one
problem though: sometimes after mending I fall asleep, so you may have to wake me.”
“I will. But… if I move while you’re… you know… will it hurt you?”
“No chance. Don’t worry about me. And don’t panic if your hand goes numb. Just relax—it helps the process along. Are you ready?”
She nodded, and he closed his eyes and entered her arm once more, this time for several minutes. Her wrist began to radiate a blue glow. She felt movement in there, thought it wasn’t painful. It felt comforting, like he knew exactly what he was doing; moreover, she sensed he cared for her, and genuinely wanted to help, as he had said. She sat amazed, her heart pounding. When he was finished, she felt him slip out. He opened his eyes only fleetingly, and his head flopped back against the barn’s metal wall. She hopped up on the hay beside him, and he slumped against her, asleep, his head cocked on her shoulder.
Her wrist still glowed blue, but when she flexed it the usual discomfort was gone.
Her guest breathed heavily. She sat for many minutes, not daring to move, lest she rouse him. She was terribly excited that a boy’s spirit had just been inside her. Fabian, a fat white cat with large black spots, came in and curled up beside her on the other side.
Finally, she decided to keep her promise and wake him. “Hey you,” she whispered, “wake up.” She lifted his head with two hands. He snapped to.
“How... how long was I out?”
“Not long at all,” she fibbed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. Thank you. I think it helped.” She pivoted her wrist.
“It’s going to be fine.”
“It’s a very intimate procedure—mending,” she said.
No one had ever described it that way to him, but he concurred. “Yes,” he said, “menders see others in a different way…”
“I like how it feels.”
He smiled, shyly.
“How is your horse doing?”
“He’s better. I had to leave him home tonight.” She was about to ask where “home” was, when he produced the grey wool cloak from under his arm. The whole time, she hadn’t noticed it. “I wanted to return this to you,” he said, “and to thank you for your compassion last night.”
“It was your friend who was the real rescuer,” she said. “All I did was pull you off the road.” She took back her cloak. “Not even the best idea, dragging an injured person like that. I hope I didn’t make it worse.”
“You didn’t.”
“It was a friend who came for you, wasn’t it? I must admit I was worried when I saw you’d gone.”
“It was,” he said. “My friend found me and brought me home. I’m sorry I worried you.”
She wasn’t going to let on that she’d chased after him. “Well, I’m no longer worried,” she said. “Thanks for coming back. That cloak is the only one I have.”
“You’re welcome.”
“If you please,” she said, “what’s your name?”
Jaimin didn’t want to reveal he was the prince, but he didn’t want to lie. “My friends call me Jem,” he said—which was true, some of his closest friends in the academy did.
“May I call you that too?”
“Please.”
Elaina stood. “Well, Jem, thanks for your visit.”
Jaimin followed her cue and got up. He flipped his cloak’s hood back up over his head. “I enjoyed properly meeting you,” he said.
“Will I see you again?” she said. “I mean, perhaps we can meet another time?”
Wow! He was going to ask her for another meeting, but she’d beat him to it. Nastasha would expect him to respond vaguely, or to decline outright. Instead, his response was all his own: “I’d like that.”
“Tomorrow?”
“What time?”
“When the moon clears the ridge. Can you meet me at the overlook?”
“I’ll be there.”
Elaina didn’t even try to conceal how excited she was about the arrangement. Her broad smile said it all. “Good night,” she said.
“Good night.” His true task complete now, Jaimin slipped into the darkness of the farmyard, his pulse quick, his body quaking. On his way home, he hid under a wagon to avoid being trod on by a reckless rider in a billowing black cloak.
Elaina sat down on the warm spot on the hay bale, refilled her guest’s cup with milk, and drank from it.
Nastasha knew Jaimin had returned safely, for when she returned to check the sand she had spread on the passage floor, it had been disturbed.
CHAPTER NINE
In the morning, Elaina decided to put off her plans to make cheese. She just had too much to do. She whipped up a pan of scrambled eggs for Lairen and Tran to eat when they awoke, and then got dressed and set off for Alessa’s house on Nightmare.
Elaina loved cool, dewy mornings. Her favorite time of day was early morning, when the call of the first bird pierced the night’s silence. Alessa had once said that the hour just before dawn was when the world of the spirit drew closest to the world of the living, and the birds, who could see both worlds, called out with joy at seeing the two realms side by side.
The magical hour had already passed, and the birds were busy scouring their favorite haunts for breakfast. Arrans living on the eastern slopes were waking to a glimmering crimson, blue and gold sunrise. All Elaina could perceive from this side of the mountains was a tinge of red in the upper atmosphere.
Roused from a dream by a familiar knock, Alessa shuffled downstairs in her green silk nightdress. She opened the door to see Elaina on her toes and beaming.
“Good heavens, is it morning already?” With a yawn, Alessa ushered her in, lit the stove, and boiled some water for tea.
Elaina lay on the couch. “Guess what? You were wrong. He came back!”
“I must say I’m surprised,” Alessa said. She dispensed tea into two porcelain cups. “Come have some apples.” They sat down at the table.
“His name is Jem. And he’s absolutely wonderful. We’re going to meet at the overlook tonight after sunset. May I please have the night off?”
“But we were going to work on history.”
“I’ll make it up! I promise. I’ll study double on my own.”
Alessa nodded, but didn’t comment on Elaina’s plans. Instead, she changed the subject. “I thought more about your description of the man who attacked you at the bridge, and I know who he is.”
“You do? Who is he?”
“His name is Devon, and he’s a real scoundrel. As I said last night, not many people have that dreadful ability. But the king has decided to trust Devon, and has hired him into the royal guard.”
“He wasn’t dressed like a royal guard.”
“Devon’s an investigator. He doesn’t wear a uniform.”
“Why would the king employ someone so awful?”
“Well, His Majesty is taking a huge risk, but do you see how those ‘awful’ skills might be useful if something needed to be covered up?”
Elaina never gave much thought to what the royal family did. She didn’t even know what they looked like, except for King Julian, whom she had seen making a speech at a cenotaph unveiling. She just tried not to break any laws, decrees, or ordinances, and had done a good job so far. “Why would Devon want to cover up an attack on Jem?” asked Elaina. “Do you think the royal guard is after Jem?”
“I certainly hope not!” Alessa leaned in close to Elaina. “No, I think your friend was attacked by outsiders. Devon’s covering it up so people don’t become alarmed.”
“Outsiders?” Elaina was rattled by the thought. She found it hard to believe foreigners had been in Arra committing violent acts against handsome young subjects, but Alessa’s theories were usually dead-on. “Should we worry?”
“I’m concerned, but we have to go on with our lives. I feel at least for now we’re safe, and so is Jem.”
Usually, at this point in the conversation, Elaina would accept what Alessa had said and would mull it over for
a while. Whenever Alessa had news or a theory, no matter how important, she would never divulge everything up front; she fed important details to Elaina a little at a time. Alessa was immune to pleading, nagging, bargaining, and—most of the time—even logic. As a result, Elaina had turned out to be one of the most patient young ladies in all of Arra. Alessa was in a particularly mischievous mood that morning, so she threw Elaina an extra tidbit: “I think I know who Jem is too…”
“And I suppose you’re not going to tell me.”
“You’re right, I’m not. I’m going to let you two get to know each other on your own. I don’t want to throw you off course.”
“Tell me this much: is he wrong for me?”
Alessa laughed. “No, my dear. He’s perfect for you. And don’t hold yourself back. But let me warn you. Your world is becoming more exciting, but also more dangerous. I trust you’ll keep that in mind.”
Elaina said, “You’ll help me?”
“Naturally.”
“Will you go shopping with me this afternoon? I need some clothes.”
“Just for you, I’ll brave the city. You’ll have to finish your chores early or the best shops will be closed. Meet me here when you’re finished.”
Elaina gave Alessa a kiss on the forehead and raced home to make breakfast.
Nastasha saw Jaimin in the hall mid-morning. He had just been released from the funeral planning discussion, and she was heading from her economics class to her chemistry class. “Can you meet me after my last class?” she asked. “In the library? Same corner?”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll see you there.”
Nastasha was a full-time student in Arra’s Royal Academy. The academy, open to court officials and their families, was celebrating its eight hundred and seventy-fifth year. Its mission was to groom leaders to nurture, inspire, and defend Arra’s people.
Students attended six classes a day, six days a week. Nastasha’s core subjects that year were management theory, applied mathematics, economics of trade, organic chemistry, vulcanology, and foreign literature. A few times a week, she called on mentors to evaluate her progress in hematology and seismology—her independent study electives. Intent on mastering her academic subjects, she rarely found time during the week for anything extra-curricular.
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