by K. A. Linde
Jardana’s eyes narrowed to slits at the words. Until that moment, Cyrene hadn’t been certain that Jardana knew that she would be on the King’s ship. Jardana’s sneer only made Cyrene smile wider.
But when she turned toward the Queen’s doors, her elation at besting Jardana slipped away. She couldn’t just barge in on the Queen, especially if Jardana had in fact told the truth.
Something banged loudly against the wooden door in the Queen’s study, and Cyrene jumped back a pace in shock. The walls were half a foot thick of solid wood, yet she could hear the Queen shrieking. She was trying to make out the words when the door sprang open in front of her.
Affiliate Catalin scrambled out of the room. Her fiery-red hair was even messier than normal with chunks of it pulled out of her braid, giving her a manic appearance.
“Affiliate Catalin,” Cyrene chirped.
“Cyrene,” she said, barely looking at her.
“You promised me an audience with the Queen,” she said loud enough for her voice to carry into the chamber. She knew it was a bad day to address the Queen, but she couldn’t go back now.
“I…what? No. No audiences today.” Catalin shook her head.
“You promised an audience, Catalin?” Queen Kaliana shrieked, hurling what looked like a small glass orb at Catalin’s head.
Catalin ducked as the glass flew through the space where her head had been and exploded against the far wall.
“I wouldn’t, Majesty,” she whimpered. She rose infinitesimally from her crouched position.
“Oh, let her in, you cow,” Queen Kaliana cried. “Get out! Get out of my sight!”
Catalin hurried to obey orders and murmured softly to Cyrene, “You want her. You can have her. May the Creator be with you.”
Creator, give me strength.
Cyrene entered. The Queen’s face was paler than normal, and her eyes were rimmed with red, as if she had been crying. Her perfect blonde hair fell loose from her bun, and a few strands framed her face. She looked younger and more vulnerable. However, the set of her ice-blue eyes revealed the Queen was otherwise unchanged.
Cyrene stopped before Queen Kaliana’s desk and curtsied. The four servant girls, who had been standing away from the cross fire, followed after Cyrene. The first girl walked forward, and without hesitation, she placed a rather large stack of papers near the front of Queen Kaliana’s desk.
“What is this about?” Queen Kaliana asked as the woman turned and went back to stand by the other girls.
The next three girls placed an equally large pile of paperwork on the Queen’s desk. When they were finished, the women curtsied deeply for the Queen and whispered their formalities before disappearing behind the wooden door.
“What in the name of the Creator is all of this?” Queen Kaliana glowered openly at Cyrene.
“My report, Your Majesty.” Cyrene sauntered forward and placed the stuffed leather folder on top of the wall of paperwork.
“Your report on what?”
“On Affiliate Lorne’s life’s work regarding foreign crop development. You will find a full detailed list of everything that she studied that could be of use to Byern. Also, in advance, I constructed a plan of implementation for several of the more important foreign agricultural developments.”
“You’ve only been here a couple of weeks,” the Queen said.
“Six weeks,” Cyrene informed her. “And I’ve completed everything you requested of me with satisfaction.”
“Mmm,” Queen Kaliana said noncommittally.
Cyrene took a deep breath. “I would like to request a leave of absence.”
Queen Kaliana’s mouth was agape, and her blue eyes stared uncomprehendingly. As quickly as the surprise registered, it passed, and she once again resumed her regal authority.
“You wish to be granted a leave of absence?” the Queen asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“What exactly do you need this leave for?”
“I need to travel to further the interests of Affiliate Lorne.” She kept her voice level and controlled.
“The interests of a dead woman?” the Queen asked incredulously.
“She was unable to travel to the distant lands she researched to study the crops in their natural habitat, and if I am to become an expert on foreign crop development, I need leave to visit these locales,” she told the Queen as passively as she could muster. Her palms sweated as the lie slipped from her mouth, but she refrained from wiping them against her dress.
“Affiliate Lorne did quite well without ever leaving Byern, did she not?”
“She succeeded beyond measure,” Cyrene began.
Queen Kaliana smiled.
Cyrene continued, “For someone who was not afforded the opportunity to fully study the subject she was enthralled with.”
“No.” Queen Kaliana leaned back into her enormous rosewood chair.
“What?” Cyrene asked, losing all sense of formality.
“You have my answer, Cyrene. You may not have a leave of absence. You will journey on the procession bound for Albion tomorrow, and I will continue with your training and education henceforth.” She crossed her hands over her stomach.
“But, Your Majesty, I must leave Byern to study—”
“Cyrene! Have we not discussed your back talking previously? You will do what I say as I am your Queen and your Receiver.”
Cyrene’s stomach turned as she remembered her Ring of Gardens ceremony when Edric had moved her to Third Class based on such a statement.
“Of course, Your Majesty, but may I ask why you will not let me leave?” She knew the Queen begrudged her because of the King’s affection, but it could only benefit the Queen to send her away.
Queen Kaliana shakily rose to her feet, pressing her hands on the edge of her desk. Streaks of blonde flew before her eyes as she leaned forward and pursed her lips. “I need no reason,” she said cold and steady. “I am your Receiver, your Queen. You do as I say. When I command you to remain in Byern and never leave the city, you curtsy and smile like the good little girl you are. When I demand you study foreign crop development, you study the material until I tell you that you are finished.” Queen Kaliana shoved the paperwork off the desk, letting it scatter aimlessly across the open floor around Cyrene’s feet. “Do I make myself clear?”
Cyrene’s eyes never wavered from the surge of hate radiating from the Queen. She kept her head level and her chin slightly raised, as if she would not succumb to the Queen’s torments. She had been through worse, lost in a nightmare while trapped in the recesses of the castle’s underworld. They had thought they would break her, but she had survived and come out stronger than ever.
“Very,” Cyrene said.
“You’re dismissed.” Queen Kaliana collapsed back into her chair. “Send in that vapid woman, Catalin, on your way out.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” She gritted her teeth as she curtsied, walked across the paperwork she had slaved over for hours, and left the Queen’s quarters.
Cyrene was seething.
The thought of being alone in her room debilitated her, and she made her way toward an open window to gaze out across the garden grounds. She tried to find composure from the Queen’s outburst, but none came to her.
Knowing that Maelia typically studied medicinal herbs this time of day, Cyrene skipped down the stairs in search of her friend. It was about time to clue her in on Cyrene’s plans.
After striding down a row of twelve-foot bushes, Cyrene came to a stop at the rustic metal gate blocking the entrance to the medicinal gardens. Her hands trembled as she unlatched the gate. She sighed before pulling it open, and she peered inside the garden looking for Maelia.
Her heart stopped when she saw the Prince first. What is he doing here?
She eased back out. The last person she wanted to run into when her temper was high was Prince Kael.
Narrowing her eyes, she looked past him and saw Maelia’s pale face staring up at him. Her face was a mask, but th
en again, it always was. A lump formed in Cyrene’s throat at the thought of the Prince trying any of his antics on her friend. Cyrene was a tempest ready to unleash at the drop of a hat, but Maelia was so timid. She obeyed authority like any militaristic Second. Cyrene would throw a fit if he used that to his advantage, and the man used everything to his advantage.
Whatever they were discussing had clearly come to a close, and before Cyrene knew it, Prince Kael was advancing directly toward her at the exit.
Taking the handle in his hand, the Prince wrenched the gate open. “Affiliate,” he said with a smile as he angled around her.
“Prince,” she murmured, holding back her rage.
He hadn’t done anything yet. She could handle this.
“Are you ready for the procession? On the King’s ship, no less.” A muscle twitched in his jaw.
He was jealous. She would have laughed at him if she wasn’t in such a wretched mood.
“I’m so fortunate.”
“I’d say my brother is the fortunate one.”
“He is the King.”
“I was right.” He took another step around her.
“About what?” She edged out of his way.
“That I wouldn’t be the only one courting you,” he responded with a smirk.
Her mind flashed back to her first night in the castle, and she shuddered. She couldn’t believe he was even bringing it up again.
“No one is courting me,” she responded through gritted teeth. “Least of all your brother.”
Prince Kael chuckled. He bridged the distance between them. Cyrene stood stiff, wanting nothing more than to wipe the smirk clear off his face.
“My brother was raised alongside me. He is a courtier through and through.” He softly ran his hand across her cheek. “You’ll do well to remember that.”
Cyrene turned her face away from him. “Good day, Prince Kael.”
“It always is when I see you,” he said as he strode away.
Cyrene forced herself to take a deep breath before entering the garden.
Maelia quickly turned around and broke into a smile. “Good to see you, Cyrene.”
“Did you see the Prince?”
“Yes, he was just in here,” Maelia said.
“What did he want?”
“He was discussing the procession with me,” she said.
“Why? I’ve never seen you two speak before.”
“Cyrene,” Maelia whined, turning back down to the garden, “please don’t make me say.”
“Oh, come on, Maelia.” Cyrene managed a smile. “You can tell me!”
Maelia shook her head from side to side, clearly debating with herself. “You cannot let him know.”
“I’ll never breathe a word of it,” she vowed.
“He was questioning how we got onto the King’s ship for the procession, but he told me not to tell you about it. He…he fancies you, Cyrene.”
Cyrene sighed. She had been more afraid that the Prince was going to press his luck with Maelia.
“I’m sorry he’s asking you questions. Did he pressure you in any way?” She hated asking, but she had to know.
“He…well, you know how he is. He puts me on edge, Cyrene. I don’t know why it upset me so.”
“I do,” Cyrene said. This was the moment. “The first night I was here, before you and I met, Prince Kael held me down against the wall and tried to take advantage of me in my chambers.”
Maelia gasped, staring up at Cyrene in horror.
“And when I forced him to stop, he didn’t back down, and he has been pursuing me ever since. I’ve told no one but you.”
Maelia reached out and grasped Cyrene’s hand. “He didn’t!”
Cyrene bit her lip and nodded.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. How…how vile!”
“I know. He’s never going to stop, and the Queen is worse.”
“The Queen?”
“She hates me, Maelia. She thinks I want to take over.”
“But you’ve never done anything to make her think that!” Maelia cried.
Cyrene glanced around the garden, making certain that no one else was listening. “Nothing, Maelia? With King Edric asking me for walks through the garden and Prince Kael chasing after me like a hound?”
“What are you going to do? You have something in mind. I can see it.”
And that was when Cyrene knew the Queen’s resolution about her performance, about her behavior, about her very existence in the castle didn’t matter. Nothing would stop her now.
“Yes, I have a plan.”
“Could we get in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“Is it worth it?”
Goose bumps broke out across her skin, and she swallowed. Is it worth it to leave everything on the whim of a peddler? Yet it felt like more than that. The book called to her. She needed to find out what it meant. She needed to know why she could see the words when no one else could. She needed to find out why he had gotten hysterical when she told him about it. It terrified her, but she couldn’t ignore it…even if a killer was on the loose.
“Yes,” Cyrene finally answered. “I need to leave the castle.”
“What?” Maelia asked. “There have been two deaths, and you want to leave the grounds?”
“Not the grounds. The country,” she whispered.
“Is this about Zorian and Leslin?”
“Partly. It’s complicated.” Cyrene sighed. “I just…do you trust me, Maelia?”
Maelia paused and then nodded. “Yes.”
“Then, know that I have to do this, and I’ll tell you everything as soon as I can,” Cyrene finally said.
“All right. I trust you,” Maelia said. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”
Cyrene heavily breathed out in relief and then began to fill Maelia in on her plan. With Maelia on board, this might actually work.
She left Maelia to finish packing and entered her rooms to make sure all preparations for the procession were close to completion. Her clothes had been properly folded and placed into traveling bags. Someone would come to take them to the boats soon enough.
A new package sat on her dresser. She cautiously took it in her hands. A note fell to the floor. She hastily retrieved it and saw the scrawled handwriting of her seamstress, Lady Cauthorn.
A smile broke out on her face. She tore into the brown paper and let the gold gown fall elegantly to her feet. It was exquisite in the same fashion as her Presenting ball gown but in a color fit for a Dremylon. Her fingers ran over the silky material. She didn’t imagine she would have anywhere to wear it on the procession and lamented leaving it behind.
After hanging up the dress, she retreated from her rooms and went in search of Reeve to ask about Aralyn. After she had first found out about Leslin, Aralyn hadn’t wanted any more visitors. The funeral for Leslin was tomorrow afternoon, and Cyrene hoped to speak with her after that.
Cyrene rushed to the High Order common rooms, anxious to see Reeve. A few minutes later, she found him in his room. The door was cracked open, and she raised her hand and knocked.
“Come on in,” Reeve called.
She peeked inside. “Hey.”
“Hey, Cyrene. What are you doing here?”
She bit her lip. “Just dropping by to ask about Aralyn.”
“You just missed her,” Reeve said. He shook his head. “She left for Kell this morning.”
Cyrene’s mouth dropped open. “She left already? She isn’t even staying for the funeral?”
“Yes, well, it’s Aralyn,” Reeve said.
Sometimes, she couldn’t understand her sister. She had thought that Aralyn would want closure on the loss of her friend, but instead, she’d just left as soon as she could. Then again isn’t that what I’m planning to do as well?
“I heard you’re on the procession.”
“I am,” Cyrene said, still surprised about Aralyn’s departure.
“And on the King’s ship.”
“Indeed.”
<
br /> “What did you do to get there, Cyrene?” He took her elbow and drew her closer.
“Nothing.” She wrenched herself away from him.
He sighed. “Did you sleep with him?”
Cyrene sputtered, absolutely floored by the turn of the conversation. She had always been close to her brother. He had doted on her when she was younger. Not in a million years had she thought he would suspect her of such a thing.
“That is none of your business!”
“Cyrene, this is serious. I know how things are around here, but I can’t help you without answers.”
“I don’t need your help! I can’t believe you would think so lowly of me.”
“Everyone has seen you with him, and now, this. What do you expect?”
“I expected better from you,” she said before she turned and fled the room.
Cyrene left the High Order’s corridors at a jog, desperate to escape the pressing prison cell in which she found herself trapped. She broke through the nearest doors, heading out into an open courtyard. She stopped to catch her breath and ran a hand back through her tangled dark hair. The pathway reflected back at her in a glittering cracked glass prism, darting from white to yellow to orange and then red, purple, blue, and green.
The trail led to the stables. She walked down the pathway and through the stable doors. The motto carved into the entrance reminded her all too well of her warrior ceremony.
BELIEVE IN THOSE WHOSE HONOR DOTH SHINE.
Cyrene wandered over to her dapple, Ceffy, who whinnied at her approach. She stroked her nose and tried to forget everything that had happened recently.
“Come here often?” a voice sounded behind her, breaking her from her solitude.
She turned and saw Ahlvie walking toward her. He was unsteady on his feet, but his eyes were still alert.
“A little too often. I keep running into you, don’t I?”
Ahlvie smiled, holding out a brown leather wineskin. “You look like you might need this more than I do.”
She eyed it. “I’m guessing that’s not water.”
“What’s the fun in that?” He took a swig himself.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“Your loss.”
“I heard that they called you in for more questioning.” She returned her attention to Ceffy. “So, you might need it.”
