Shattered Lives

by H. R. Rekow

  "Nan, only the lords can’t see me like this!” Olivia smiled as she looked over her shoulder. “Commoners won’t be bothered, the servants and the like. They see this all the time. Besides! It’s just for this morning, honest by the Silver Eye."

  “Ah . . . and what of Countess Primis?” Nan lifted her chin. “If she lays eyes on you—”

  “She is gathering herbs in the gardens. Stop worrying, Nan!” Olivia smiled as she continued to walk away.

  “My lady!”

  Krea and Cedany followed their mistress with grins and playful whispers against Nan. “We won’t be terribly long, Nanny dear!” Krea called over her shoulder.

  Nan opened her mouth to speak, but shut it. She glared at the young ladies and walked back into the chamber; the door slammed behind her.

  It was early morning and the servants, who had been up long before the sun, raced here and there to prepare the household for the day. Women bustled in from the wells with buckets filled to the brim that splashed onto the floor with each step. Men carried in the day’s kill of deer, hare, and pig for that night’s meal. The candlestick maker’s daughters rushed throughout the castle and put out last night’s torches. Boys busied themselves with the livestock, mucking out the stables, feeding the chickens and goats, and making sure the horses were well. The distant smell of oily fires hovered about the kitchen as the cook finished preparing breakfast. Bit by bit, the castle rumbled with life as the household awoke.

  Olivia led her women to her favorite place in the castle, a tower which was built into the eastern wall. The women carried woven baskets filled with cloth and sewing tools, and they clung to their wool cloaks and each other as the morning’s chill seeped through the stone walls.

  Krea giggled as they walked, arm-in-arm, and shook her head. “Nan said you’re acting like a child. Just you wait, she’ll mock us and imitate how we speak too. I hate when she does that! She’s too good at it!”

  Olivia grinned. “Let her. She’s the one who misses all the excitement!”

  They squeezed past bowed men who carried baskets of fresh bread made the night before in order to be served that morning. Cedany shook her head and gave her lady a wary look. “What if we wander into a room we’re not allowed to—?”

  “Oh!” Krea shot her a glance. “No words like that. This is an adventure!”

  “Well,” Olivia whispered, “we cannot jeopardize Duke Aldret’s hospitality.”

  “Right.” Cedany nodded. “We just don’t want—”

  “To have fun?” Krea smirked. “This is silly talk, both of you! Silly, silly!”

  Olivia sighed and breathed in the morning air; it was sharp and fresh. She smiled. “Yes, I guess we will be fine. We will! Ah . . . this is what I need . . . to laugh and be with my ladies!”

  Cedany muttered under her breath, and glowered at the servants who passed.

  “Where did this happiness come from, my lady?” Krea asked and poked Olivia’s arm. “By the One in Red, a cloud followed you everywhere just yesterday.”

  “Oh . . .” Olivia looked away and grinned as color seeped through her complexion. “I spoke with a fair gentlemen—”

  Krea gasped and giggled, though Cedany’s eyes narrowed.

  “He was a messenger from the prince. . . . He soothed my worries.”

  “My Lady,” Cedany whispered and leaned forward. “You are to be wed. Shouldn’t toy with a—”

  “Ah! I said he was the prince’s messenger!” Olivia shot her a cold look.

  “Then why talk with—”

  “He was a knight; now enough of this, Cedany! I want to be at peace!”

  Cedany looked away, and Krea glanced between the two.

  “Did he have a fine face?” Krea whispered.

  “Krea!” Cedany snapped.

  Olivia’s grin widened. “Yes.” She looked away. “Very fine, indeed.”

  Cedany frowned and Krea giggled with closed eyes and a wide smile. Their voices hushed as four women passed by, their hands full of clothes and blankets to be taken and washed. They bowed until Olivia’s shadow moved beyond them, and pressed on.

  They rounded a corner, and Olivia smiled as she lengthened her strides. “Here we are!” Her vividly green eyes sparkled and she hurried to a closed door at the top of the stairs and threw it open with one forceful heave. Crisp morning air brushed across their faces as the sun lit the darkened stairway. A smile spread across Olivia’s rosy lips, and she heard Krea and Cedany gasp behind her. The tower gave way to a balcony which overlooked the wild land beyond Crown Haven’s walls. The women stepped to its railing and took in the breathtaking view.

  The colors and freshness of the day caused Olivia to forget the prince for a brief moment. She looked out and saw the Hilled Country rolling to the east as one grassy hill rose up onto another. Mist linked the hills together and lazily moved between them. To the west, the Flat Plains stretched on like a green-and-gray cloth, and Olivia knew her home was beyond that horizon.

  A thick line of black ripped through the eastern skyline. Olivia’s smile faltered as she stared at Wraith’s Hollow. The sun did not shine on the distant forest, and she wondered what horrors lay within its shadows. They were to travel through that Wizard-forsaken place. She would discover, all too soon, what the forest hid from the light. She looked away with a shiver.

  The three women drank in the fresh air until their lungs were full and content. “The Wizard made another beautiful day,” Olivia whispered. Krea and Cedany nodded as the women sat on wooden benches across from one another, Olivia on one and Krea and Cedany sharing the other. Stitch-work and tools were taken from the baskets and the women chatted as they sewed patterns of forests and men-at-arms into the fabric. A morning breeze grabbed at their hair and clothes with gentle fingers.

  As Krea and Cedany talked of the cook’s foul mood the night before, Olivia’s eyes turned across the land once again. What a beautiful morning The Wizard painted. She liked it, very much. There was a long moment of silence, and Olivia listened to the distant birds as they sang to the sun. She knew it was doubtful The Wizard would speak to her, but she still sent her thoughts his way. Well, the birds sing to you.

  She watched the birds flutter among the fruit trees in the courtyard below and sighed, her shoulders and chest loosening. She felt peaceful at the moment, the eye of a storm. She thanked the One in Red for the gift, and enjoyed it for the time being.

  The Wizard was not with her. Perhaps he was across the Ardi’on Sea to speak with the sons of the wind, or at the highest point along Blue Ridge to mediate a dispute between the stars. He might have been among the unending forests of Han Ci to teach them the heart of a Treeling, or walking upon the most distant sands to ensure the sun did not singe the earth. He could have been anywhere, and yet, he heard Olivia’s thoughts.

  Falling in love would be nice, but . . . Olivia’s lips became a tight line as she looked down at her hands. She glanced at her ladies-in-waiting and watched their whispers and laughs; she knew they would not understand. I don’t think affection will take shape in either of us. If only you could be here. If only you’d tell me what to do.

  The Wizard stopped what he was doing. He looked at Olivia.

  The light breeze grew and struck the three women. Each held their stitch-work in firm hands as Cedany and Krea’s conversation hushed. Cedany’s eyes narrowed as the wind seized their hair and cloaks. It was not a natural wind, so sudden and sharp. No, this wind had been sent.

  Olivia looked straight into the abrupt gust as her stray hair waved about her, deep in thought. If only The Wizard was a shadow, constant and beside her. If only she knew what to do. If only she knew how to be a queen.

  Krea’s brows rose and she looked at Olivia. “Are you speaking to The Wizard?”

  Olivia turned to her and opened her mouth to speak, yet froze. Her green eyes widened as a cardinal soared through the air. Its vivid Red wings carried the bird through the wind and it landed on the balcony. Cedany gasped as Krea smiled i
n wide-eyed amazement. “A Sacred Creature,” Krea breathed and reached forward, her fingers outstretched.

  “No!” Cedany wrenched her hand away from the bird, her eyes wide and her face pale.

  Olivia stared at the bird and eyed its Red features. The bird’s beady eyes looked up at her, its head cocked at an angle. It held her gaze and stared deep into her; Olivia felt its eyes pierce to her heart and command complete respect. She swallowed hard. She let out a quivered breath, slow and controlled. Cedany looked between the Sacred Creature and her mistress. She lifted her chin. “What did you say to him, my lady? What did you tell The Wizard?”

  Olivia did not look away from the cardinal as it stared at her, stared at her soul. Her mouth was dry. Her heart beat against her. Her hand tightly held the other. Forgive me. Indeed, you are here, Olivia thought with a gulp. Forgive me. The bird blinked and chirped a song-like tune. It leapt off the balcony and flew into the courtyard, out of sight.

  Lady Olivia shivered and looked down, her brow furrowed, as she shook her head. Forgive my doubt. . . .

  The Wizard smiled and he looked to her with his silver eyes flecked in a fiery glow. His blood Red robe trailed behind him and his hair, long and whiter than white, lay about his shoulders. Both robe and hair constantly moved as though brushed by a silent breeze. He saw her delicate form, though she sat leagues away. Olivia looked to the horizon and knew he was watching her, ever protective and vigilant. A fragile smile curved her lips.

  “My lady?” Krea leaned forward, brows drawn together and eyes narrowed.

  Olivia looked to her companions and shook her head. She took up her needle and began to stitch a pattern. “We are not out of his sight. Isn’t he faithful?” She smiled at them, but they stared at their lady in silence. “Faithful as the sun . . . Hmmm, as the sun . . .”

  Cedany and Krea glanced at one another. “Yes, my lady.” Krea nodded and she took up her needle.

  Cedany eyed Olivia, but shook her head and leaned close to Krea. “Don’t ever touch Sacred Creatures.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “T’wer! I saw! Your hand would have fallen off or burst into flames if you had!”

  Krea’s eyes widened. “Stones on bones! Really?”

  Cedany lifted her chin with a nod.

  Olivia looked back to the sun’s rays and thought of The Wizard. He watched them, though they could not see him. She looked for the cardinal, but could not find the Sacred Creature. She sighed and ran red string through her fingers. She eyed the scarlet cord and was grateful the One in Red knew her distress and did not chide her for it.

  As the sun lifted higher into the pale blue, a smudge-faced child raced to the tower’s steps and told the three women, with a bow and a small voice, that breakfast was ready. Krea braided Olivia’s hair as Cedany gathered up their things.

  Once the lady’s hair was appropriately in place, the trio walked to the Great Hall. As they entered the large room, a wave of several conversations flooded over the women. The shouts of servants, orders of masters, the occasional bark of dogs, clangs of wooden and metal utensils, and the crackle of the wall-long fireplace mingled together until it was one large, rolled-up sound.

  The baron, friends, the chamberlain, and the commander-of-the-guard sat along the table’s benches as they ate their morning meal. At the head of the table, in the only chair available, sat Duke Aldret. On his left was the Seer and to the right was the baron, who was deep in conversation with his lord. Young servants lined the walls, their hands stiff at their sides and eyes directed to the seated men and women. Dogs pitter-pattered between the people with constant eyes on the table for the food that was to come.

  Thick warmth spread throughout the room as the fire and body heat grew. The wall-length fireplace’s fumes rose above the gathering and curled in the rafters high overhead. It slowly found the opened windows and ventured outside, but not without leaving the sharp smell of smoke behind. The servants, who had slept in the Great Hall the night before, had rolled up their mats and stacked them in the corners. On the floor lay bits of hay and tracked-in mud, small puddles from the water girls’ spills, and dried food which had fallen from the table the day before that the dogs had missed.

  As Olivia moved across the room, several conversations fell to a whisper, and many looked to their queen-to-be. Olivia’s cheeks flushed red and she took a step back with a sudden lurch. Krea and Cedany glanced at their lady and looked back at those seated. A few hushed words whipped through the room. Olivia took in a deep breath, lifted her chin, and focused on her bench beside the Seer. Her steps flowed from one to the other as she swallowed hard and pressed on.

  The watchful eyes burnt into her flesh and made her skin tingle. A steward stood and pushed out the bench for her. Olivia sat, glanced at those around her, and looked away. Countess Primis sat beside Quinn; her eyes bore through Olivia and into the wall behind her. The young woman turned away from her aunt, and a lump formed in her throat.

  The Seer grinned at Olivia and stood. A perfect stillness fell across those gathered and each looked up to the ceiling and held out their hands. Olivia whispered a sigh of relief as everyone turned away from her. The Seer closed his eyes and spread his arms wide. “You sang all that there is into existence, Great Wizard. Therefore, sing into our lives to create the beauty only you can see. Let it be so!”

  Everyone cupped their hands together, with a thunderous clap, and drew their hands close to their chests. The Seer sat down, and conversation rolled in again. Duke Aldret nodded to Olivia in greeting. She returned the welcome and placed her hands in her lap, her laced fingers white.

  Nan, who sat beside her, eyed Olivia’s hair and grunted. “Glad to see you’re right and proper again.” Olivia did not respond as she grabbed a piece of bread from a wooden platter. She dipped it into a cup of goat’s milk and took a bite. “Thank The Wizard Countess Primis didn’t see those wild locks this morn!”

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Nan. “Well, she didn’t. . . .”

  Nan grunted. “Just like a half-naked Wilder heathen! She’d be rightly short with you for sitting out, too. That cold morning chill. ” She shook her head.

  Olivia opened her mouth, but shut it, looking away with a shake of her head. Nan drank her own milk and continued, “She would be saying, ‘My dearest girl! Do not destroy this nation by becoming an unsuitable queen!’ ” Olivia grimaced at Nan’s perfect imitation of Countess Primis’s voice. “Would give her a heart attack—”

  “Enough, Nan!” Olivia hissed and shot her a hot look. “Aunt Primis didn’t see, and she doesn’t know! Shall we keep it that way?”

  Nan leaned back in her bench. “Meant nothing—”

  “She’s always like that! Unreasonably concerned of others’ opinions of her.” Olivia’s eyes darkened as they flicked to her aunt. “I still should have ridden that griffin!”

  She thought back to the day a messenger had arrived at Earl Quinn’s castle; he had traveled on a griffin. She had never seen such a beast before and her excitement to ride such a grand animal, half lion and half eagle, had overtaken her. But no, Countess Primis had forbidden it. “You could slip and fall.” Olivia’s smile had faded at her aunt’s words. “You would die. Besides, it is ghastly cold up there in the heavens; your young health would render no resistance against the chilled air. If the flight wouldn’t kill you, your weakened body would.”

  Olivia shook her head and wished there was a griffin to soar among the clouds with. She longed to see what it was like to be above the world. It sounded so peaceful, so free.

  “Could we not talk about my aunt.” She was not asking.

  Nan stared at Olivia for a long moment, and her brow softened. The two women looked away from one another and continued to eat. “Don’t you be too hard on her,” Nan whispered. Olivia’s lips tightened to a pale line. “She raised you all in all.”

  “What do you know?” Olivia snapped. “You have served me no more than a handful of months!” Nan gasped
and stared at Olivia with a blank expression. She opened her mouth to explain herself, but Olivia turned to the Seer beside her.

  “Honored Seer?” Olivia asked and forced a smile. Nan’s eyes narrowed as the young lady turned her back on her. “How can one be chosen as a Seer?”

  The man grinned as he set down his wooden cup and turned her way. Beside him, his Song Bearer peeked beyond his Red Master to the young beauty. Their eyes met and the Seer’s apprentice ducked and turned away. “The heart.” The Seer pointed at his chest with a nod. “’Tis where all begins with The Wizard. He looks deep within one’s own soul, past the innards, the marrow and hardened muscle, to the glass heart. The Wizard doesn’t see nation or bloodline or past. A heart can be cracked; it can be marred by past harms, or harms by the keeper’s own nature. However, The Wizard may see deeper, and still consider such brokenness as beauty. He finds the best hearts—the broken ones mostly, for broken ones can be molded more easily than perfect ones. You see?”

  Olivia nodded and moved closer. “And what of the Crimson Rings, honored Seer? How do they come about?”

  “Well . . .” The Seer rolled up his long sleeves and revealed the thick red loops wound around each wrist, discoloring his skin. Lines curled and flowed with one another throughout the rings and patterned his flesh. “Long ago, during the end of my apprenticeship as Song Bearer, I knelt and asked The Wizard for them. Then, I felt someone else was in the room, something else. An overpowering presence that no mortal or Wraith could stop. And that was when I noticed the Crimson Rings. They just appeared. Out of nowhere.” He chuckled and stroked one ring, then the other, and felt the texture of each curling line. “Such are the ways of The Wizard. Um . . . might I ask, my lady, how is it you do not know such common things?”

  Olivia glanced away and cleared her throat. “My uncle had a Seer, yet he was old. He had no strength for children, for such was my age when he was alive. He passed to The Land of Eternal Day before I had grown in curiosity.”