Iron Garland (Harbinger Book 3)

by Jeff Wheeler

  “But how did you cross back to Kingfountain? You said that couldn’t take you.”

  He shrugged. “Mirror gates are not the only way to cross between the worlds.”

  “Will you tell me?” she asked, keenly interested.

  “It depends on how forthcoming you are with your secrets. Shall we lunch in Marq, then? If you hold my hand, then the ring will also affect what you wear. It would look suspicious if you showed up there wearing an Occitanian gown, but I respect your sensibilities. I understand that there is a lot of formality between the sexes in your world.”

  “I would rather not stand out,” she answered. And though she didn’t wish to say so, she also liked the idea of holding his hand again.

  “Thank you,” he said, offering it to her. She took it, savoring the warmth, and in another blink they were in Marq.

  They spent the afternoon together, visiting a few of the places she had previously only heard about. Each invocation from the cylinder took them to another wondrous place, and each place required new disguises. The sun kept shifting position in the sky as they traveled, indicating they were indeed traveling vast distances instantaneously. The magic of Kingfountain was shockingly powerful.

  No one recognized them or gave them any notice at all. Sera had never felt so free, so unbound by rules or traditions. The several places they visited were all different, but they had one thing in common—Trevon’s people remembered the past and honored it. The beautiful architecture from the past had been preserved and maintained. There were parks to walk in, bridges to cross, and markets to wander in. Her favorite place of all was probably the berry market in Ploemeur where they got in a laughing fit and tossed berries at each other. The tastes and smells were as delicious as the fun they had.

  Their final destination was a sanctuary in a burg near the huge city of Pree. Now she was back in her Occitanian dress, the illusion gone. The sanctuary was much smaller than the one in Kingfountain, but it, too, felt ancient. There was a bronze statue of a knight there, the metal dimmed by time. As they drew near it, Sera asked who it represented.

  “The Maid of Donremy,” Trevon said, looking up at it in admiration. “The sword belted on her armor is the sword Firebos. It’s real, Sera,” he said softly. “It’s been in my family for generations.”

  “Why did you bring me here last of all?” she asked.

  The sun was sinking low, and the stained-glass windows were in shadow now. The chapel was nearly empty, save for a few local patrons speaking in a pretty language she didn’t understand. She had not been able to understand the languages used in the places they’d visited that day, yet there was something in the people’s tones and mannerisms that connected them, even if they didn’t share a common tongue.

  “She was one of the most famous Fountain-blessed of all,” he said. “Though she came from nothing, she helped crown a prince a king. He betrayed her in the end, but her story is a symbol that sometimes the Fountain chooses the most unexpected people to be agents for uncommon good. I’ve read her story. I’ve read the transcripts of the trial.” He sighed. “It was wrong of them to put her to death. Now, all these years later, we can see that. But at the time, they thought she was a heretic.” He glanced at Sera. “I don’t want to make the same mistake they did.”

  Sera smiled impishly at him. “I hope you don’t feel tempted to chain me to an icy rock.” She knew how the Maid’s story ended, something she’d learned in her own reading.

  Trevon grinned at her humor. He was not a traditionally handsome man, but she liked his face, the sound of his voice. His quiet, deliberate ways.

  “Not yet,” he teased back. Then he looked at the statue and became subdued again. “There are many secrets between our worlds. How could it be otherwise? General Montpensier is convinced he can defeat your empire. He doesn’t want an armistice. He certainly doesn’t want peace. It is easier to take something than to buy it,” he added with a grim voice. “Or trade for it. Our people see yours as an enemy.”

  “But what do you see, Trevon?”

  His mouth firmed. “I see a faint possibility that we might join forces someday to create something grander than either of us could build separately. But there is so much river to bridge, as we like to say. So many past conflicts.” He turned and looked at her. “When you came here, I thought I would court a wife. Maybe that cannot happen. Maybe it shouldn’t. But I respect you, and if you ruled the empire in your father’s stead, I suspect things would be different.”

  Sera’s excitement was growing at his words, but she also felt a pang of loss. She admired him too. Indeed, she wished their separate worlds did not stand between them. If only everything could be so easy as traveling with that brass cylinder.

  “I don’t know what will happen, Trevon,” she said. “I don’t think either of our sides wishes to admit defeat.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I asked you a question earlier that you didn’t answer. What about my beliefs troubles you the most?”

  He looked back at the statue. “I didn’t forget . . . it’s the reason I saved this chapel for last. We were wrong to persecute the Maid as we did. Our history is full of mistakes.” He then gave her a probing look. “I think what disturbs me most about the history of your world is how it has persecuted women. You yourself have felt the sting of such persecution. For one thing, your women are subjected to strict fashions that I frankly find appalling.”

  Sera smiled at that. “Most uncomfortable, yes.”

  Trevon shrugged. “But in all seriousness, what I’m about to tell you is a matter of grave concern.”

  “Please go on,” Sera said, anxious to know what he would say.

  “I told you that Myrddin was real. There is another Wizr from our history, one whose power rivaled even his. Her name was Sinia Montfort, the Duchess of Brythonica. She was a special lady for many reasons.”

  “Didn’t she marry Owen Kiskaddon?” Sera asked. If the Maid of Donremy was the most famous Fountain-blessed in the history of Kingfountain, Kiskaddon was a close second.

  “Indeed. There are many legends about their daughter as well. But what I have to say concerns Sinia.”

  “How so?” Sera had read about Sinia Montfort, but most of the stories focused on her life with Owen, during the reign of the last King Andrew.

  “Later in her life, she went to your world to try and make peace between us.”

  Sera looked at him in shock. “Really?”

  “It doesn’t surprise me that you don’t know. I imagine it is a state secret. She never returned, Sera. We believe she was imprisoned in your world. Wizrs have unnaturally long lives, so it’s possible she may still be living there, trapped. Why this was done, or how this was done, I don’t understand. But considering your world’s treatment of women . . . well, it would not surprise me to learn she was executed long ago.” He glanced back at the statue of the Maid. “Sinia Montfort was a peaceful and caring ruler, who kept her principles despite difficult circumstances. She was quick to respond to pleas for aid, and she was powerful in the Fountain magic. Very powerful. I don’t think I could live in the kind of place that would knowingly destroy her. There is much about your own world you do not know.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY−NINE

  WARNING

  They returned to the sanctuary of Our Lady in Kingfountain and were immediately accosted by members of the king’s Espion, who had been alarmed by their sudden and prolonged disappearance. Prince Trevon refused to answer them on their way to the docks behind the building. The crowds of onlookers that had gathered to see Sera had long since dispersed. There was a strange boat in the docks, made of what looked like stone. And there was an unmanned door that opened as they approached it. They climbed down the ladder down from the docks, and servants then helped them into the vessel.

  “This will take us back to the palace,” Trevon told her. He gazed up at the setting sun and sighed. “My parents may not be pleased with our jaunt. But I don’t regret it.”

  “Thank
you for taking me.”

  The hatch was closed behind them, and Sera examined the cockpit before seating herself on a comfortable chair in the interior. Trevon sat down beside her. The outside could be seen in a mirror mounted across from their seats, and she gazed in wonder as the craft began to enter the strong surge of the river. They were so near the falls that she squeezed the armrests, but the vessel glided effortlessly upstream. She could feel a tingle in the air, a bit of magic that sent a thrill down her spine.

  Soon they reached the palace docks and disembarked. The family was already seated at dinner when they arrived, and it was plain to see the king and queen were angry with their eldest son. Some sharp looks were exchanged, and the king motioned one of his attendants over and whispered something into his ear. The man nodded and left.

  General Montpensier, on the other hand, looked smug. He raised a goblet. “To the errant prince!” he called with a grand voice. “The prodigals return.”

  Trevon escorted Sera to her seat before taking the one next to her. She glanced around the room for Fitzroy but didn’t see him.

  “We toured the realm,” he said with composure. He offered no excuses, admitted to no wrongdoing.

  “And you exposed her to more of our secrets, no doubt,” the general said in an almost gloating way. “How daring.”

  “General,” the king said, displeased.

  “Did I offend?” replied Montpensier. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.”

  Everyone ignored him. Trevon was facing his parents’ silent rebukes bravely, but she didn’t want him to bear the burden of it alone. She looked across the table at the queen. “I was especially taken by Marq. That is where you are from, is it not?”

  The queen had a sour look. “Indeed, Miss Fitzempress. It was the home of my childhood.”

  “There is much to admire about it. I was curious about the history here. One can only learn so much through a book.”

  Montpensier grinned. “So true.” He took another slow drink from his goblet, his eyes piercing hers.

  The tension in the room ebbed, and at the end of the dinner, Sera went back to her room and related her adventures to Becka, who listened eagerly and with interest.

  “I wish I could have seen it too,” the young girl said. “Everyone speaks so highly of the prince. He’s not as hard as his father. All the servants are afraid of his mother, though. She can be very strict.”

  “I can see that,” Sera replied with a knowing smile. Becka helped her remove the silk gown she’d worn that day. Such a gown would not be considered fashionable—or even suitable—in her world, but the feel and comfort of it pleased her. Becka fetched Sera’s nightdress and a shawl, and the two stayed awake talking about what they had seen and heard. Sera asked if she could find out where Lord Fitzroy was being kept. Sera wanted to speak to him privately about Lady Corinne. She intended to ask for a confidential meeting with him the next day, but there was a chance she’d be denied.

  After quenching the lights, Sera lay down on the immaculate and comfortable bed, although her mind was too preoccupied to sleep. She thought about her discussions with Trevon. Would he truly be willing to accept an armistice without a marriage? His parents would not support that, she was certain. But they had given him autonomy to make the decision. Would they honor it?

  And what about his revelation about the missing duchess of Brythonica? Sera had never heard about such a thing, not even in rumor. If Trevon was to be believed, and she did believe him, it was yet another reason the court of Kingfountain regarded them so poorly. What other obstacles remained between them? How could she learn more about the concerns he had shared about the duchess? Well, she could try to speak to the Aldermaston of Muirwood upon returning home. He was an honest man, one who had been a help to her while she had studied there. If she could find out the truth, might there be a way to appease the court of Kingfountain and achieve a longer-lasting peace?

  She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until something startled her awake.

  Sera sat up in bed, her heart pounding in her chest. An oppressive feeling of danger filled her soul. She stared at the dark room, unable to remember what had triggered the feelings. Again she felt a premonition that she should leave immediately. Something was coming.

  She blinked quickly, trying to understand the source of her feelings. It was the Mysteries, she realized. It was warning her to escape.

  Sera swung her bare legs off the bed and hurried over to the small couch where Becka slept.

  “Becka! Becka!” she whispered, shaking the girl’s shoulder.

  The girl lifted up, looking confused and worried. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Come with me.”

  Becka rubbed sleep from her eyes. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I know. Come with me.”

  The feelings grew even more emphatic. Sera clutched Becka’s hand and half dragged her off the couch. Becka obeyed, following her to the door. Sera paused, listening at the crack, and then opened it. The corridor outside was dark except for some moonlight coming in from the upper windows.

  The tile was cold against her bare feet. Sera had no idea where to go, but she started down the corridor, walking as quietly and stealthily as she could.

  “Where are we going?” Becka whispered fearfully.

  “I have no idea,” Sera said. They reached the end of the corridor. There were stairs going up and down and then the corridor turned sharply to the right. Where should she go next? The feeling of danger hadn’t abated yet, and she knew she had to heed it.

  The impression to go down whispered to her.

  Pulling Becka after her, she started down the steps, holding the railing with her free hand. The glimmer of torches could be seen on the lower floor, and Sera knew that hiding would soon become difficult. The oppressive feelings urged her onward nonetheless.

  There was no one in the corridor when they reached the bottom of the stairs. There were two possible directions. She stopped again and tried to understand what she was supposed to do. The need to do something, anything, pressed on her, but she remembered how impatient she used to get at Muirwood when the Leerings didn’t obey her. Slowing her breath, she opened herself to the Mysteries’ will. Becka looked at her in confusion and worry.

  “This way,” Sera said.

  They walked down the middle of the corridor, feet padding on the lush carpet cutting through the center. Sera looked at the paintings on the walls. Though she’d seen them previously, even admired them, they looked dark and frightening now. As if hundreds of eyes were silently scolding her.

  The end of the corridor showed a massive set of doors. It looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t be sure.

  As they neared it, Becka gasped in surprise.

  “What?” Sera asked.

  “Someone’s following us,” the girl whispered.

  Sera glanced back and saw a man striding down the corridor behind them, his boots not making a sound as he walked. The shadows of the corridor concealed his face. How had he gotten there?

  “What do we do?” Becka whimpered.

  Sera increased her pace, sensing the man quickening his as well. She reached the heavy doors and pulled on one of the handles. It was huge and massive and did not yield easily, but Becka helped her, and their combined effort opened the door. Light and voices emanated through the opening. Sera saw the man was almost upon them, looking determined to catch them both before they entered.

  Sera pushed Becka in first and came in after her. Only then did she realize they’d entered the throne room. She’d heard legends of the Ring Table, and now the massive round table stood before her. There were carved wooden thrones around the table, each one decorated differently. They had stood through the ages.

  “What are you doing here?” demanded a voice, which Sera recognized instantly as the king’s. The king sat at the opposite end of the table, along with Trevon and one of his other brothers. Another man stood by him, one she recognized
from earlier. An advisor perhaps?

  Sera, anxious to be away from her pursuer, marched into the room, feeling very vulnerable in front of these men in her nightdress. She stepped in front of Becka to shield her.

  “Sera?” Trevon asked in surprise, coming around the table and approaching her with obvious concern.

  “Someone was chasing us,” Sera told him when he neared. “In the corridor.”

  Trevon scowled and then marched to the door and flung it open. He stood there a moment, gazing outside, and then turned back. “There’s no one there now.”

  “Answer my question,” said the king angrily. “What are you doing up at this time of night?”

  Sera wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing, but there was no going back. “Why are you here meeting without the rest of your council? You seem angry, Your Majesty.”

  The king’s nostrils flared with anger. “We are dealing with a crisis, Miss Fitzempress. One you brought upon us.”

  “Father,” Trevon said defensively.

  “Perhaps she didn’t know,” conceded the king. “But that doesn’t hold her guiltless.”

  “What is happening?” Sera demanded, coming forward until she reached the table. The Ring Table was made from the trunk of a massive tree—undoubtedly a Shui-sa tree like the fallen one at the beach beneath Pavenham Sky. It would have taken twenty grown men linking arms to encompass it. This tree was indeed the stuff of fables.

  “You have no right to demand answers of a king,” said the king gruffly.

  “Father, please. How could she have known? We aren’t even sure.”

  “Please,” Sera implored. “Tell me.”

  The king threw up his hands in disgust, no doubt seeing the determination in Trevon’s eyes.