Heidel (The Nine Princesses Novellas Book 3)

by Anita Valle

Maelyn shook her head, fingers pressed to her lips. “It’s unbelievable. Never would I have suspected....”

  Silence reigned. The princesses gazed at their laps or swapped solemn looks. Fear harbored on every face.

  “A firm response is essential,” said Briette. “He must know that his actions are intolerable and have consequences.”

  “There has to be a mistake,” said Maelyn. “Uncle Jarrod would not try to kill one of us!”

  “He’s a king, Maelyn,” said Briette. “It’s what they do. It’s how they keep their crowns on their heads.”

  “But why did he target me?” Heidel asked. “I never tried to kill him!”

  Maelyn sighed. “Retaliation. Uncle Jarrod thinks I tried to infect him with Red Fever. Perhaps he thinks it was you, Heidel, who ‘poisoned’ his wine with it. He knows you work in the kitchen. Killing you would very effectively punish us both.”

  “Or maybe he didn’t care.” Ivy curled tightly in her chair, crutch held close to her chest like a weapon. “It was reckless, don’t you think? Sending those lumens with King Erlamon? Anyone might’ve eaten them. I don’t think he cared who died, so long as it upset Maelyn.”

  “But Prince Eravis was the one poisoned!” said Briette. “I very much doubt he intended that. Isn’t King Erlamon furious?”

  Maelyn held up her hands. “He’s denying it! Eravis didn’t die, he said, therefore it couldn’t have been poison. Poison kills, he said. He thinks Eravis had an upset stomach.”

  “What!” Heidel leaned forward and clenched the arms of her chair. “Does Crazy King Erl think I don’t know what an upset stomach looks like? I’d love to give him one right now, with my foot!”

  “We’re not contending with a sound mind,” said Briette. “Holy Thumbs, while you searched for Eravis, he continued with his silly contest!”

  Heidel had forgotten all about that. “Did somebody win?”

  Maelyn waved dismissively. “A short man, not of this realm. He walked with quite a slouch.”

  Despite everything, Heidel grinned. “He won! Well, I’m glad, he’s been trying for fourteen years. Although... it wasn’t his cake.” She hadn’t notice whose cake the slouchy fellow had chosen. Something to look up later.

  “The king did admire your cake, Heidel,” said Maelyn. “After the contest, he told me he was impressed by its ‘elegant simplicity’. He said the only reason you didn’t win was because the lumen fruit you used had gone slightly sour.”

  “It wasn’t sour, it was poisoned,” Heidel growled. She no longer cared about the contest, the prize recipe book she had coveted, or the king’s good opinion. She despised him, especially for his indifference toward his son.

  “Which brings us back to Uncle Jarrod,” said Maelyn. “I must go to him in Grunwold, I see no other way. A long talk, hopefully, will settle the matter.”

  “He’ll kill you,” said Heidel.

  “Then it’s a risk I have to take. I’ll bring the knights of Lumen Fortress, and maybe Gord the carpenter. He’s intimidating.”

  “May I come?” said Coralina.

  “Of course not.”

  “I am Uncle Jarrod’s favorite.”

  Maelyn hesitated. “Well, maybe.”

  “Don’t go. Send Willow with a message,” said Briette. “Try to assess Uncle Jarrod’s anger before throwing yourself upon his mercy.”

  “I don’t want to send Willow,” said Maelyn.

  “He’ll be safe,” said Briette. “No one knows about the two of you.”

  Maelyn’s color rose but she shook her head. “Sometimes I think Uncle Jarrod knows everything. He’s High King of twelve realms at least and manages to control them all. I think he has spies. Everywhere.”

  “We should have spies,” said Heidel.

  Maelyn exhaled. “Oh yes, spies. And servants. And soldiers. Go on, Heidel, tell me how everyone thinks I don’t what I’m doing.”

  “Don’t get angry-” said Heidel.

  “I am angry!” Maelyn shouted, startling the princesses into a collective jump. “One of my sisters was nearly killed, I think I have a right! This is my kingdom! My family! Who does he think he is?”

  “He thinks he’s the master of life and death, as all monarchs do,” said Briette. “What you need is some kind of power, something with which to threaten him.”

  Maelyn slid a hand down her face as if trying to rub out the strain. “But I have nothing. Nothing to scare him,” she said. Arialain, seated beside Maelyn, looked up sharply, then dropped her eyes.

  “Nothing yet perhaps,” said Briette. “But we’ll find it.”

  Chapter 41

  Eravis spent the following day sleeping off his weakness. Heidel had imposed three days’ rest before he could travel but it wasn’t strictly necessary. She just didn’t want him to go.

  It was odd, though. One would think their harrowing experience would bring them closer. But it didn’t. As Eravis resumed daily activities, talking and eating and playing cards with her sisters, Heidel felt the wedge between them widen, like waves pushing two boats apart. He had thanked her for saving his life, embraced her as he did. But the embrace was cautious. They smiled as they passed one another in the corridor, exchanged a few polite words at meals. No more taunts, no more challenges, no more arguments, no more insults.

  It was awful.

  She loved him. He loved her. They both knew this... or rather she knew it. Heidel shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Squire sat with her on the bed, happily dozing in her lap. Lucky dog who wasn’t troubled by love. The night was too humid to keep him with her, but she wanted his shaggy comfort.

  It was her turn to speak. Eravis had revealed his love when they sat beneath the lumen tree, with the heart-shaped cake, and – when she thought about it – in countless other small ways. She had given no reply and now he was waiting for it.

  But she couldn’t tell him.

  Why?

  She had tried, late last night, when he came in to help her knead bread dough. Well no, she hadn’t tried. The moment the notion took her, her tongue dried up like a dead leaf and stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  Was it because she couldn’t see what lay beyond? Eravis, I love you. Then what? How would he change? She had known Eravis the sneering boy. Eravis the arrogant youth. Eravis the insufferable man. But Eravis the lover was more than she could handle.

  “You’re scared, you goose,” she moaned to herself. “Scared of how he’ll change. But if you don’t speak now, he never will again. He’s tired of trying.”

  She sank into her pillows though she doubted sleep would come. Eravis intended to leave for home tomorrow after breakfast. She could certainly speak to him before he left....

  Twisting, Heidel flung an arm over Squire and pushed her face into his tickly coat. No, she couldn’t. She wanted to, but she just couldn’t.

  I’m sorry, Eravis.

  Chapter 42

  The growl snapped her awake. Heidel lay startled and disoriented, her heart jumping at the sudden sound.

  Another growl. It was Squire. Not a blink of moonlight touched her windows, the chamber was black as iron. By the sound of his growls and scuffling nails, he seemed to be pacing at the door.

  “Need to... go out?” Heidel mumbled. That couldn’t be it. Squire only whimpered when he wanted to go out. These growls were harsh, menacing.

  “I’m coming.” Heidel elbowed herself up. Probably nothing, perhaps a rat in the corridor. Though Shulay kept so many cats they rarely saw one.

  The stone floor cooled the bottoms of her feet. Heidel fumbled blindly until she found and pressed the door handle. Warmer air wafted in from the hallway, heavily scented with smoke....

  Smoke?

  SMOKE!

  Heidel gasped and dashed out. At the far end of the corridor a door hung open, churning out clouds of dark, sooty ash. The chamber within flashed red and gold, glowing like the throat of a dragon, and with it came the crunching sound of flames.

  “FIRE! FIRE!” Heidel shrieke
d, barreling down the hallway. It was Ivy’s chamber. Holy teeth, holy teeth, how could it be Ivy’s chamber?

  Squire ran behind her, barking up a storm, followed by the snaps of other chamber doors opening. Heidel grinded to a stop at Ivy’s doorway, her mind laying out a spread of gruesome scenarios. Even so, she wasn’t prepared for what she saw.

  As in most every chamber, the canopied, four poster bed was centered against one wall. The heavy bed curtains, unwanted during summer months, were gathered and tethered to each of the four posts. All of these curtains were now on fire, each corner of the bed a column of flame that twisted and clawed upward to the canopy. To Heidel’s amazement, Ivy stood by the nearest curtain, trying to tug it down from its hooks. She stood crookedly, barefooted below her nightdress, exposing the misshapen right foot which folded beneath her, making her walk on its side.

  “Ivy! Get out of here!” Heidel rushed in and grabbed Ivy’s arm. Her white nightdress, her long, loose hair could easily catch and burn, to say nothing of the noxious smoke that would suffocate her.

  “Let go of me!” Ivy screamed, pulling free of Heidel. “Get me some water - the pitchers from your washstands! Quickly!” She looked past Heidel to the doorway where Lace, Shulay and Briette now stood, eyes and mouths wide open.

  Ivy jerked the curtain free of its hooks and it fell to a burning heap at her feet. She kicked it out to a bare space of stone floor.

  “Come out of here, we’ll take care of this!” Heidel shouted, pulling Ivy’s sleeve.

  “No! Nobody’s helping me! Leave the pitchers at the door, I’m doing this myself!” Ivy hobbled to the next corner and grabbed the curtains. She shrieked as the flames brushed her hands and seized a spot higher on the fabric.

  “Stop!” Heidel circled her arms around Ivy’s slim waist and dragged her back. “We will do this, just stand back! Go in the corridor!”

  “Get OFF me!” Ivy shoved her sharp little elbow into Heidel’s ribs and faced her, teeth bared, skin bright with sweat. “You stand back! This is my fire!”

  She was crazy. Just for the moment, Heidel decided to humor her. She raced back to her chamber, groping through darkness, and found the pitcher on her washstand, half full of water. When she returned, her sisters had already brought their pitchers and plunked them down on the threshold.

  “She won’t let us in!” Jaedis cried. “She screeches when we try to help!”

  Heidel joined her sisters bunched in the doorway. They had all come, except for Maelyn who slept a floor above. The second curtain had been thrown on the burning pile and Ivy wrestled with the third one, back by the wall. But as she struggled, the hem of her nightdress flickered and lit. Ivy squealed and crunched to the floor, smacking the flames with her hands.

  Heidel lunged forward but someone held her back. “Let her be. Let her be.” Briette’s voice. “She wants to do it herself. If it gets out of hand, we’ll go in.”

  “What!” Heidel hissed. “She’ll burn! Or choke to death, listen to her!”

  Ivy coughed savagely as she fought with the curtain. When it broke free, she dragged and flung it on the pile, nearly tripping on her lopsided run. The chamber had become a cloud of smoke, smudging everything fuzzy and gray.

  Thankfully, the last curtain gave way without trouble. Ivy tossed it on the bonfire of burning cloth, sounding as if she were coughing up a lung. One by one, she scooped up the pitchers of water and dumped them on the curtains. White steam billowed upward as the fabric hissed and shriveled. After pouring the last pitcher, she tugged the coverlet off her bed, hurled it over the blackened lump, grabbed a poker from her fireplace, and beat it frantically. Steam sprayed out from beneath the coverlet but soon it melted away. Ivy stooped, poker in hand, and peaked beneath the coverlet. The charred curtains gave off tendrils of smoke but otherwise, the fire was out.

  The princesses poured into the chamber. “Come with me. Now. And don’t argue.” Heidel took hold of Ivy’s elbow and pulled her to the door. She led her through the corridor, up a staircase, to a door that led out onto the terrace. The midnight air felt fresh and warm, though the moon was lost behind cloud cover. Heidel could barely see.

  Ivy slumped on the battlements, hacking and wheezing, then retching up her supper over the castle wall. Heidel patted Ivy’s trembling shoulder. “Get your breath. And then I’ll make you something to drink and check you for burns.”

  “Ivy?” Maelyn stepped out on the terrace. She carried a lantern, illuminating the shock on her face. Eravis trailed behind, his expression matching Maelyn’s. He wore a long, white nightshirt over loose trousers and bare feet, though his bed-rumpled hair looked much the same as always.

  Maelyn plunked the lantern on the flagstones and crouched beside her sister. “Ivy! I’m so sorry! Briette just told me!”

  Ivy nodded, still gagging odd sounds. The lantern cast her in yellow, huddled against the terrace wall with a hand pressed to her chest. She shook visibly and her hair stuck to her face. “I – I....”

  “Don’t talk,” said Heidel. “Breathe.”

  But Ivy looked determined. She straightened her posture, drawing long breaths of air. “I... I did it, Mae!” She wobbled a smile. “I-” (cough, cough) “-I beat the fire!”

  “What started the fire?” Maelyn asked as she held Ivy’s hand. “All four bed curtains at once?”

  Ivy coughed, gasped, cleared her throat. “It was King Erlamon. He-” The cough consumed her again.

  “What did you say?” said Eravis. He stood nearby with folded arms, watching Ivy with quiet concern. Now he looked alarmed.

  “I saw him. The fire – the brightness – woke me up. I sat up in my bed-” (cough, cough, cough) “-And I saw King Erlamon with a torch – leaving my chamber.”

  “It was a dream,” Maelyn said quickly. “King Erlamon... he wouldn’t!”

  “Was the fire a dream?” Heidel challenged.

  Eravis exhaled. His features sagged, aging his appearance. “I bet it was him. He knew she was afraid of fire and he said....” Eravis pushed his fingers through his hair. “He said she needed to face ‘a real fire’ to overcome her fear. Said it more than once.”

  They all kept silent. Then Maelyn released Ivy’s hand, rose to her full height and said, “Excuse me, please.” She marched inside the castle.

  “I’m sorry, Ivy.” Eravis stepped toward her, his voice a note higher than usual. “I am so very sorry.”

  “It’s – it’s fine.” Ivy picked herself up, favoring her good foot. “I burnt my hands, but otherwise-”

  “No!” Eravis growled. “It’s not fine!” Reaching out, he scooped Ivy into his arms, pressing her head to his chest. “I’m so, so sorry!” His face crumpled as he kissed the top of Ivy’s head. For several seconds he wept silently into her hair.

  Heidel encountered a new sensation.

  Never, in her life, had she felt anything ill towards Ivy, certainly nothing violent. But now she wanted to grab her, rip her away from Eravis, knock her down and scream horrible things. The flood of hate and fury scared her; she had to get away.

  Heidel didn’t stop running until she reached her chamber. Once inside, she gave way to a tantrum the likes of which she hadn’t known since she was ten, beating the pillows, throwing books across the room, stripping the bed, kicking chairs over, shoving ornaments off the shelves, smashing or hurling anything her hands could find.

  “Heidel?” came the voice of a startled sister behind the door.

  “LEAVE ME!” Heidel shrieked. She fell back onto the bare mattress, panting, sweating, smacking hot tears from her eyes. An hour later she fell asleep, unaware that she’d torn her fingernails and they bled dark spots into the bed.

  Chapter 43

  The cobalt carriage stood outside the castle’s main door, flashing its golden wheels and embellishments. King Erlamon climbed inside, having received a frosty farewell from Maelyn.

  “It was the only way,” he had explained at breakfast. “She needed to conquer the enemy of fear. I knew s
he’d wake and vanquish the fire.”

  The princesses had stared in disbelief. But how could they argue with a crazy king? Maelyn had tried during the night, her outrage giving way to sharp words. He had recklessly endangered the life of her sister. He would not be welcome in her kingdom for the foreseeable future.

  Unperturbed, King Erlamon insisted that Ivy was never imperiled, though her chamber did seem overly drafty. He looked forward to next year’s Festival of Fenwick.

  The sky, peppered with tiny clouds, promised them a sultry day. Eravis, dressed in emerald green with a delicate circlet of gold in his hair, wished a friendly goodbye to each princess, though his eyes wore signs of strain. He touched Heidel’s hand as he had with the others and said, “Thank you for all you’ve done. You’re a fine healer and I wish you well.” He smiled without meeting her eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” Heidel said stiffly. It was the first exchange they’d had all morning. Frustration churned her insides, curdling her stomach. She hated Erlamon, Eravis, everyone. The world was a hateful, horrible place.

  “Well, blessings to all of you.” Eravis bowed graciously and turned his back.

  “A safe journey, Prince Eravis.” Maelyn smiled. “Please return to us soon.” If she expected a reply, he didn’t give one. He wasn’t coming back.

  Heidel watched the back of him, arms swaying with his stride, leather boots leaving soft prints in the earth, dark hair crossed by the curve of gold. A ball of pain rose in her chest, swelling until it stung. She clenched her teeth to keep it down, breathing through her nose.

  He had hugged Ivy in sympathy and shame. She knew that. But the sight had awakened an unpleasant truth: if she didn’t speak, Eravis would find someone else. A lady to love that wasn’t Heidel. Receiving his smile, his embrace, his ardent gaze. The thought was intolerable as fingernails on slate.

  It was time.

  The driver opened the carriage door and Eravis lifted a foot. Heidel clenched her fists until her knuckles popped. Then the pain broke free and she heard herself shouting. “Eravis! Just where do you fancy you’re going?”