Ilythra closed her eyes. I’m a warrior. But she didn’t feel like a warrior; in fact, she felt vulnerable, unsure of herself. Apprehension coursed through her veins.
“If anything were to happen to you...” Erhard trailed off, a catch in his voice.
Ilythra met his gaze. His pale eyes were glazed with imagined pain.
“If it means that much to you, I’ll take a guard.”
Erhard smiled and kissed softly on the lips. “You see, our first argument solved.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“And Lady Lucin arrived late last night after you retired.” Cassia bustled around the room, gathering Ilythra’s clothes. “She will expect you in her drawing room before dinner.”
The morning sun spilled into the room, touching upon a fresh bouquet of early spring flowers sitting on Ilythra’s dressing table. She stared at the golden hues.
She’d dreamed of Zeynel again. He’d held the zoari, the stick he’d used to find water on the Faisach, and was waving it around. The dream had been eerily silent. This time he hadn’t tried to speak, but she had the feeling he was trying to tell her something just the same. And then she’d been falling, reaching out but Zeynel was gone. Still she reached, falling into endless darkness.
She shuddered and tore her gaze away from the flowers. What was Cassia saying about dinner? There was something else she had to do. Her spirits fell. “I can’t. I need to go into town and talk to one of the women.”
“Couldn’t that wait, milady?”
“No, Cassia. Though I’m not looking forward to it. I’m sure Nenya didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m not going keep her waiting another night. Besides, I have a feeling now that Lucin is here, I’ll be busy.”
“As you wish.”
Ilythra sat and let Cassia coil her dark hair onto her head, her thoughts of Zeynel fading away.
* * *
Erhard watched Ilythra ride out of the castle gates, satisfied that she’d taken the guards. He chuckled. How could she not? He’d stationed them at the stables with orders to follow her or face his wrath. He imagined for a moment their conversation as they informed Ilythra of their intent. She was an independent little thing. A trait he was certain, after she gave him a child, would diminish.
“One more thing I’m indebted to you for, my old friend.” It had been Bredych who’d seen that Ilythra would make a fine wife and queen. He’d insisted the marriage would not only enrich Erhard but his kingdom, and Bredych was seldom, if ever, wrong. “What was so important that you couldn’t winter here with us?” Erhard considered that since Ilythra arrived, Bredych had been absent more often than not. He’d seen no animosity between them. In fact, they were similar in many ways. Bredych had always been a bit distant, a little mysterious. Erhard shrugged; the thought brought on one of his headaches. He’d learned long ago it was better to avoid those subjects that brought on headaches. The pain could incapacitate him for the better part of the day.
Dark heavy clouds lumbered across the sky. Snow, probably this evening. Damn, he’d hoped to go hunting today. Erhard’s breath fogged the glass pane as he closed and latched it. One of his men had found a half-starved wildcat and caged it. Now healthy and angry as the north wind, it attempted to attack anyone who dared near it. As soon as the weather permitted, he’d order its release, give it a head start, then find and kill it. By his calculation, the animal would have died without interference, so its life was his.
He glanced back toward the window. He hoped Ilythra didn’t dally too long with the peasants. He didn’t feel like explaining her affinity for them to Lucin.
* * *
“Baby, my baby mine,
I will love you for all of time
Go to sleep, do not cry
I will sing you a lullaby
Close your eyes and don’t you fear
Go to sleep—your mommy is near.”
Ilythra motioned the guards to stay by the barn, waited until the melody died away then rapped on the door. A soft movement sounded in the small house, then the door opened a fraction. Nenya peered out of the narrow opening, her features lit by a vertical shaft of light. When she saw Ilythra, she opened the door and stepped outside.
“How is Res? Please tell me.” She looked past Ilythra and her eyes widened.
“No. It’s okay, they’re with me.” Ilythra caught the door before it shut. “The king is afraid someone might try to hurt me. He insisted.”
Nenya looked to the guards then back to Ilythra. Shock clear on her features. “Who would try to hurt you? You’ve always been kind to us.”
Ilythra shrugged, led Nenya to an overturned log near the door and sat beside her. She closed her eyes. Her heart felt like it was twice its size, heavy and filling her chest in a way that wasn’t pleasant. “Res has already been sent to the mines.”
Nenya’s face collapsed as though the life had been squeezed out.
She grasped the woman’s hand. “But Erhard has promised to review his case. He’ll be called back for a new trial, but it will take a while.”
Nenya’s warm tears fell on Ilythra’s hands as she kissed them over and over. “Thank you, milady. Thank you for hope.”
“I am sorry I couldn’t do more.” Defeat weighed heavy on her. What would this woman do alone with a small baby? How would she survive?
“Hope is a powerful thing.” Nenya raised bright eyes to Ilythra. “I don’t know what the likes of me could do for a lady like you, but I’m in your debt—not once, but twice. I owe you the life of my child and my husband.”
Ilythra rose. The skin at the back of her neck itched. Someone was watching her. But who? Maybe Erhard was right. “I’ll do everything I can to see him returned. I know he’s innocent. But I must be getting back.” With a final wave, she mounted Melior and headed back toward the castle, aware the guards scrambled toward their horses, trying to catch up.
* * *
Mohan almost couldn’t believe it was her, yet there had been something familiar in the way she held herself and handled the horse. Even so, it wasn’t until she’d ridden past him that he was sure. A long cloak had covered most of her body and a hood shaded her face from the cold wind, but he’d recognized the arch of her back. He hadn’t ridden behind her for days without memorizing her shape.
He stayed in the shadows until the two guards accompanying her passed his position. Guards? They didn’t seem to be chasing her. Was she a prisoner? No, that didn’t feel right either. He inhaled deeply and pulled at the waist of his leggings. He’d found them outside of the village hanging on a line, along with a tunic and vest. He’d warmed them by a fire before exchanging his colorful garments for the drab clothing. They were a little big but would have to do. After seeing how the villagers lived, he felt a little bad that he’d taken someone’s clothes. He was sure there was a slightly plump man walking around naked somewhere.
Now that he knew she was here, he had to figure out how to get her alone. Mohan glanced up toward the castle. It looked formidable against the stark mountains. He’d need stealth and a good plan; too bad he had neither. He made his way along the river back to his camp and fed sticks to the coals until they released a flame.
Before he’d left, he’d spoken with Taliba. He would tell Ilythra everything. Fear for his friend quickened his breath.
“Wisdom does not exclude fear. It only teaches you the right time for such a thing. Follow your instinct, Mohan.” Taliba’s words echoed in his head.
Mohan added a few more sticks to the fire. He’d had plenty of time to contemplate his situation. He’d crossed the pass in a snowstorm and found shelter in a cave, only to have the snow seal him in. After digging his way out, he’d tramped down into the valley until he collapsed. If a farmer had not have found him, spring would have. He’d given the farmer almost all the money he had; a small price for his life
, and it had looked like the farmer needed it. Never had he seen such ragged children. He’d wanted to take them all home with him. He’d settled for telling endless stories while storms raged across the land. As soon as the weather permitted, he’d set out again for Greton.
“And here I am.” He rose in frustration. “And no closer to you. What has happened to you, my friend?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Is this really important?”
“Of course it is, my dear. You don’t want to offend anyone with your first act as queen.” Lucin stared down her nose.
“All right, let’s try again.” Ilythra examined the diagram with the little pieces of wood, representing the guests at her wedding dinner. Apparently, it was the social event of a lifetime to be invited, and position at the table indicated their status in the kingdom. Ilythra shifted the tiles.
“No, no, remember I said Lord Keril has not spoken to Lord Tais since their children were babes. Even though they are of equal standing at court, they can’t be placed together.”
Ilythra grew restless. “Lucin, you know all these people, their quirks, their standings, enemies and friends. I completely trust your expertise. Please, arrange the tiles and I’ll stamp it with my approval.”
Lucin looked down her long nose. “Then you’ll never learn.”
Ilythra closed her eyes, listening to the wind pound the castle. When she opened them, Lucin hadn’t averted her gaze.
“My dear, this must be done.”
She breathed deeply, letting the scent pervading her room fill her senses. Shouldn’t a bride be happy? She felt defeated, trapped. She didn’t have the energy to fight Lucin. “You’re right, of course. Let’s try again.”
* * *
Mohan leaned against an abandoned barn, watching the road between the castle and the village and trying to stay out of the wind. With no real plan, he could only wait and see if Ilythra would make another appearance. Instead, a group of villagers emerged from their houses in silence; icy mud splattered their legs and sucked at their feet, slowing their step. When they started to walk toward the castle, Mohan joined them. The group was mostly women. Some pushed carts covered in greased cloth. He caught the distinct smell of fresh bread, and his stomach rumbled. There wasn’t even enough food in the village for him to feel comfortable helping himself to a meal. The women looked him up and down but didn’t say anything. One smiled.
Mohan smiled back. “Would you like me to push your cart?”
A moment of confusion crossed the girl’s features. She couldn’t be more than fourteen summers. The girl glanced around then stepped aside, offering the handles to Mohan. “Thank you. My grandmother usually helps me, but she’s sick.”
“Is there a healer in your village?”
“No, but there is a great lady in the castle who comes and treats her.”
That had to be Ilythra. As they neared the gates, sweat dewed Mohan’s upper lip, despite the cold morning air. I have become a beast of burden. The sun crested the hill as the townspeople waited for the gates to open. “A great lady and a healer?”
“Yes.”
“You!”
Mohan stiffened and looked up to see a large guard approach, his finger pointing in his direction. If he ran, the girl would surely be punished. Fight, and he’d lose. Before he could make up his mind, the guard stood before him.
“I’m talking to you, boy.”
Mohan looked up at a bulbous nose in a fleshy face with dark porcine eyes, thin-lipped mouth and no chin to speak of. All in all, one of the ugliest faces he’d ever seen.
The guard ripped the cover off the cart, grabbed two loaves of fresh-smelling bread and chewed noisily. “Entrance tax.” The man spewed spittle and half-chewed pieces of bread as he spoke.
Mohan bowed his head, spread the cloth back over the loaves and continued on his way, the girl at his side.
“Thanks. My grandmother usually deals with them. I was a little afraid of what they’d say to me.”
“No problem. Big, ugly guards are my specialty.”
The girl smiled and tucked a few strands of hair under the cloth covering her head.
It was time to take a gamble. “If I wanted to get into the castle to see an old friend, how could I do that?”
She hesitated for a moment and then peered around. “The kitchen. I’ll show you the door. There are no guards, and the cooks are so busy they don’t notice who comes in or out as long as you leave their food alone.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’ve never seen you before.”
“Nor I you.” Mohan smiled.
Wonderful smells greeted Mohan as he entered the warm kitchen. He heeded the girl’s advice and let his empty stomach rumble and the food alone. Mohan passed through the kitchen into an open dirt courtyard surrounded by towering stone walls. A rickety fence ran down the middle of the space. On one side, chicken pens leaned against the wall, the occupants out pecking at the dusty ground. A very small herb garden lay on the other side. He wondered how the short brush fence kept the chickens out. He crossed the small yard and, on impulse, grabbed a broom leaning against the wall.
The castle was dark, but empty brackets lined the walls. He followed a low murmur of voices, pausing when he recognized a man and a woman speaking. From what he could hear, the man instructed the woman which chambers to clean and air. It seemed the castle was full and expecting more guests. He waited until he was sure they’d gone then turned the corner into a wider hallway lit with torches that didn’t quite vanquish the shadow. At the end of the hall, a staircase rose into the gloom.
What had the wise woman said? Follow his instincts. He headed up the stairs.
At the head of the corridor, Mohan paused to pull at the worn leather leggings, which insisted on slipping past his waist, and then continued on his way. Laughter drifted down the hall, followed by the sound of footsteps. He kept his head low and began to sweep the stone floor. The swish of fabric neared then stopped.
“Do I know you?”
Mohan glanced up into pale blue eyes in a pretty face. “No, ma’am. Just...um. The, um, steward said to sweep the corridors until he found something better for me to do.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “A man sweeping? Are you lame?”
For a moment, pride flared in Mohan’s breast, but he lowered his gaze. “Yes, ma’am. Wounded, but recovering.”
“Are you related to Konrad?”
Mohan hedged his bets. “Well, yes, ma’am, but that’s not public knowledge, if you know what I mean.”
The woman’s expression softened. “Very well.” She made to move off.
“Beg your pardon, but can I have the privilege of knowing the name of one so lovely as yourself?”
“My name is Cassia. I’m Lady Ilythra’s lady-in-waiting.”
“Lady Ilythra? The name sounds familiar.”
“It should. She’s going to be your queen. Now excuse me, I have duties.”
“Of course.” Mohan watched her disappear from view.
Ilythra, marrying the king? Could it be a different Ilythra? Mohan swept his way closer to the laughter. It wasn’t a common name. The door was open to the corridor. Light spilled from windows high on the wall. He blinked. Several women sat on couches, needlework on their laps. Laughter punctuated their murmured conversation. Mohan peered between the crack of the door and wall. A woman with dark hair piled on her head smiled and bent to her task. Mohan rubbed his eyes and looked again. It was Ilythra. He leaned against the wall, trying to assimilate what his eyes saw with the memory of his friend. She hated to sew. She didn’t wear dresses. He snuck another glance. The woman grimaced and brought a finger to her mouth. It was definitely her.
A cold shudder ran up his spine. His brother’s face, mutilated and bloody,
flashed across his mind. Tarak hadn’t acted like himself either. What manner of witchery was this? He needed to think. Slowly, he swept his way down the corridor toward the staircase, noticing there was another level above.
“Instinct,” he muttered and walked up the second set of stairs. All the doors on the next level were closed, save one. Mohan ducked into an alcove behind a statue and waited.
The blue-eyed woman he’d spoken with earlier walked out of the room. As she neared the stairs, she opened her hand. The light reflected off something in her palm.
“They are really very pretty,” she said quietly and then walked past him without a glance in his direction.
Mohan attempted to see what was in her hand. It looked like tiny balls of colored glass. When he was sure she was gone, he extricated himself from behind the statue. “If you were alive, an angry father would be insisting I marry you about now for the liberties I’ve just taken.” Mohan walked over to the door the woman had just vacated and held his breath. It was open. He stepped inside, prepared for a quick, “sorry, wrong room,” but no one challenged him.
The room was large, with a fireplace at one end. A strange fragrance permeated the air, making him a little sick to his stomach. Ribbons and powders littered a small table by the bed. Definitely a female’s room. He opened the wardrobe and stopped cold. Only one person in all of Anatar had a sword like that. This was Ilythra’s room. He searched further. Behind all the lacy dresses, he found Ilythra’s tunic and leggings; in one corner sat her medicine bag.
His heart dropped into his stomach. “What have they done to you?”
He staggered out of the room, feeling light-headed, and made his way down the hall to the stairs, trying desperately to formulate a plan to get Ilythra alone.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ilythra stood on a short wooden stool, fabric draping from her frame to pool on the floor in rippling shades of blue. The seamstresses darted here and there, mumbling to herself and pulling at the dress, a frown set on her wrinkled face.
Shawna Thomas Page 31
