by Jeanne Hardt
Roderick appeared from the long corridor and stood beside him. They glared at her and kept their hands on the hilts of their swords. Would they run her through to keep her from becoming ill? She appreciated loyalty, but this was ridiculous.
She returned their glower, then whipped around and strode away. Why had everything she attempted to do become so difficult?
In times past, her father had come down with bouts of congestion, but had never had any sort of illness that kept him quarantined. Perhaps the evil had returned to the kingdom.
She gasped. What if it had somehow attached itself to Sebastian’s arrow?
The kingdom could very well fall apart, and she would have no one to blame except herself.
The bell rang for the evening meal. On most occasions she welcomed the sound, and as a child enjoyed ringing the large metal bell that hung in a wooden frame at the center of the courtyard. And even though Olivia had no inclination to eat, the sound drew her in. Her mother might be able to tell her more about the king.
She took her seat at the head table and watched as the people came in and took their places. As each minute passed, the room grew louder fueled by multiple conversations.
The queen’s ladies passed by her; blonde and fair Lady Eloise, Lady Margaret, and Lady Rosalie. They took their seats to the left of the royal table. Without speaking, they sat perfectly upright and waited to be served.
Before, Olivia thought of them merely as servants. A necessary commodity for the queen, and an honor for any woman chosen to hold the position. Now, she saw beyond the façade. She knew little about Lady Eloise—only that she was once a sheep herder. Lady Margaret, however, had been hurt by Donovan. He had likely wooed her into his bed, then tossed her away like an aged pastry.
When Olivia looked at Rosalie, her eyes were met with hope. How would she ever tell her she had been unable to share her news with Dane? Olivia tried to smile, but the ache in her heart would not permit it. Rosalie’s shoulders lowered, and her eyes shifted to the table. Their silent interchange had said much.
With her father abed, and her mother oddly absent, Olivia felt small and alone at the huge oak table. When she gazed about the room, it seemed all eyes rested on her. Were they whispering about her as well?
From a table at the back of the room, two women looked her way and giggled. As Donovan had said, they were laughing at her. How could she ever again gain their respect?
The room stifled her, and she could not leave fast enough. She fled to the only place that gave her comfort.
The wall.
She held no hope that Sebastian would return, but it mattered not. It was for the best. She had enough to overcome without worrying about him. And if her father died . . .
She burst into tears, rested her arms on the wall, then lay her head down seeking comfort on the cool stone. Pain squeezed her already aching heart.
“Olivia!”
She lifted her head and blinked away tears.
No! He was supposed to leave.
“Olivia! Take cover!”
Did he intend to launch another arrow? She had to stop him.
Frantically, she waved her arms. “No! Do not send it!”
Without her spyglass, she could not see his expression. But, she had no need. He was obviously confused. After all, she had written him asking questions he was no doubt answering, yet her warnings should have sent him fleeing back to Basilia.
He moved slightly to the right, then drew his bow. The arrow flew through the air and plunged into the ground ten feet away from her.
“Why?” she screamed.
“Please! Tell me what is wrong!”
She jerked the arrow from the earth, sprinted back to the castle, then down the hall to her room and slammed the door shut.
* * *
Sebastian clutched his chest. A pit formed in his stomach, but not from hunger. The moment he saw her at the wall with tears streaming down her face, his heart ached. The woman he viewed through his spyglass did not simply weep, she displayed gut-wrenching anguish. Had he been close enough, he would have held her. Anything to lessen her pain.
Heavy-hearted, he returned to camp.
“Did you wound her?” Jonah asked. “You look as if she died.”
Sebastian took a seat by the fire and set aside his bow. “Something was terribly wrong.”
“But . . . you saw her, did you not?”
“Yes. I have never beheld anyone who sobbed with such intensity.”
“And when she saw you?”
Frowning, Sebastian held his cold hands to the flames. “She begged me not to send the arrow.”
“And you did regardless.”
Sebastian nodded. “I poured my heart into that letter—told her things I knew she needed to hear. Why did she not want it?”
“Did she take it?”
“After screaming why, she yanked it from the ground and ran off.” He stood and began to pace. “Damn the distance between us!”
He rubbed his thick beard. How many days had it been? He had never worn it this long.
“Sebastian? Are we going on to Oros?”
Though Sebastian sensed Jonah’s urgency, he could not bring himself to leave. Especially now. His letter asked even more of her, so perhaps she would answer. He had to stay longer.
“One more day, Jonah. Something keeps me here, and I have to understand what it is.”
Jonah grunted. “I know.”
Sebastian crossed to his friend, who poked at the fire with a stick. At least he had stopped complaining about his leg. “What do you know?”
“You show every sign of a man smitten with love. I have seen it before.”
“Love?” Sebastian feigned a chuckle. “Love? She is a commoner. You do believe I am crazed.”
“How many times did you read her letter?”
Sebastian attempted to calculate, but gave up. “I know not. I have memorized almost every word.”
Jonah shook a finger at him. “Exactly. I assure you, love pounds harder than any fist.”
“I have seen her merely three times. And the distance between us . . .” Sebastian shook his fists in the air. “Why do you do this to me? You speak of love with a maid I cannot have? Jonah. You have a way . . .You provoke me! I often wonder why we are friends.”
Jonah stood erect, bearing a cocky grin. “I happen to be one of the few people who tell you what you need to hear rather than cower before you. Though you are a prince, you are a man first. You came on a quest to find a bride, and it seems you have found one.”
Sebastian gaped at him. “I came on a quest to find a princess bride. Not a commoner. By law, I can only marry royalty. A fact of which you are well aware.”
“And . . . Your Highness . . . who makes the law?”
Sebastian froze. He understood Jonah’s insinuation—something utterly impossible. No king had ever wed a commoner. That is, no king but the one on the other side of the gorge, and it had been done out of necessity. His father would never agree to such an arrangement.
“It would never work,” Sebastian said.
“I suppose you are right.” Jonah sighed, stone-faced. “After all, from a distance she may look fair, but seeing her face to face might be another matter. She could have foul breath and horrendous bodily odor. Nothing like a true princess. One who bathes.”
“You are relentless.”
Jonah splayed his arms and bowed his head. “Only to you, Your Highness.”
Sebastian laughed, and strangely, it felt good. The stress of his situation had worn him down. Adding to his discomfort, rain began to fall.
Jonah hurried to the shelter, and Sebastian followed him. Just in time. Tiny droplets became a downpour. Thunder rumbled.
The horses were tethered to a line of rope behind the shelter, receiving cover under the trees. Fortunately, Sebastian and Jonah had taken them out of the woods and into the meadow for a good run earlier in the day. They seemed to be calm and unbothered by the storm.
�
��All we need now is lightning,” Jonah muttered. “Stuck in a forest in a storm. Thank you, Your Highness.”
They sat upright, back-to-back, with their knees drawn in, and stayed in the center of the canvas shelter. Jonah dug into his pack and handed Sebastian a bit of bread.
“Thank you,” Sebastian said. “And—you are welcome.” He grinned. If Jonah went for any great length of time without complaining, Sebastian would know something was seriously wrong. But no matter how much Jonah fussed, Sebastian could count on him in any difficult situation.
Jonah was the protector the queen expected him to be. Brilliant with a sword and the best archer in Basilia. She wisely entrusted him with Sebastian’s safety. He and Jonah had been inseparable for the last ten years. And though Jonah occasionally annoyed him, Sebastian could not ask for a better friend.
They munched on the dry bread and Sebastian scolded himself for not taking the time to hunt. His mind had been on Olivia.
He prayed she would not destroy his letter before reading it.
Jonah’s body stiffened. He grabbed Sebastian’s arm. “Did you hear that?”
“I hear only rain.”
“Shh!”
The unmistakable fear in Jonah’s voice proved this was no game.
The horses must have heard it, too. Whatever it was. They snorted and rustled the trees around them, pulling on their line as they tried to flee.
Jonah slowly inched upward to his feet and motioned for Sebastian to remain.
No. That was not about to happen. They would act on this together.
Sebastian started to stand when a low, rumbling growl froze him in place. He held his breath and continued upright, then grabbed his sword and removed it from its sheath. The sound grew louder, as did the pounding of his heart.
Never before had he heard an animal make such a horrific sound. Its growl sounded more like an agonizing moan. Whatever it was, it intended harm.
Jonah opted for his bow and readied an arrow. The trees on the far side of the camp rustled. The creature drew closer.
The fire barely burned. Rain would eventually extinguish it fully and put them in utter darkness. They needed the flames to ward off the beast.
“I will stoke the fire,” Sebastian whispered and moved from the shelter.
“No.” Jonah attempted to grab him, but Sebastian avoided his reach.
They needed the light of the flames. As capable as they were with their weapons, it would be nearly impossible to fight in the dark.
At least the rain eased. Sebastian had set aside some dried limbs from a fallen tree, long dead. He had placed them behind the shelter near the horses. He crept as quietly as he could to retrieve them.
Another growl.
Much too close.
Sebastian rested a hand on Ebony and tried to calm her with soothing whispers. He then grabbed a handful of branches and moved toward the fire. He thrust them into the still-hot embers. Flames crackled and popped.
He sensed Jonah’s presence behind him, then loud breaths hissed from Jonah’s nostrils. His friend was unhappy with him, but Sebastian had acted out of necessity.
They stayed close to the fire. Sebastian gazed across the flames and into the trees beyond. The sound had come from that direction. Sebastian barely took in breath, waiting.
Within moments, another mortifying growl rose from the same place. The beast displayed no fear of the fire. It stepped into the light.
Dear God!
Its red eyes glistened. The creature grunted. Long, pike-like tusks stuck out from both sides of its mouth. Its eyes locked onto Sebastian. Fearless and hungry.
Another intense growl curled the creature’s lips and exposed razor-sharp teeth. Large fangs readily able to kill. It took slow, deliberate steps. At any instant, it could charge.
Sebastian gripped his sword. It would not be an easy kill. The creature’s thick skin would require more than one blow.
As it moved closer, and the fire’s flames radiated more light, Sebastian stepped back. He had never seen a boar so large. Yet it was not the beast’s size that troubled him. When it grunted, bubbling saliva dripped from its mouth.
The creature shook its head, tossing it about as if in pain. The boar lifted his nose high into the air, sniffing.
Sampling me already?
Jonah inched closer. “Look at his mouth, Sebastian,” he whispered. “The illness you spoke of.”
There had been no need to say it. Sebastian had already made the same assumption. And now, it all made sense. The creatures of Black Wood carried the illness. The evil of which Olivia had written.
Squealing, the boar charged.
Sebastian raised his sword, but as he did, an arrow whizzed by his head and plunged deep into the creature’s eye. It squealed louder, ran in a circle, then fell to the ground, staining the already wet earth with dark, red blood.
“Do not touch it!” Sebastian yelled. “We must burn it.”
The healers in Basilia had learned long ago that a simple scratch or bite from an infected animal would pass the illness. Even the creature’s dripping saliva could prove deadly in an open wound. This was undoubtedly the same illness. The beast had acted crazed.
Sebastian held his stance. “There could be more.”
“And I will be ready.” Jonah pulled another arrow from his quiver. “I heard grunting days ago, some distance away. What do you suppose brought it in?”
“The animal’s keen intelligence. Our fire was low.”
They approached the dead boar, but stopped before they got too close. Even from afar, its foul stench burned the inside of Sebastian’s nostrils.
He shook his head. “Huge. Jonah, have you ever seen anything like this before?”
“I have seen boars, but not this size. He cannot have been ill long. The sickness would have diminished him.”
Olivia had been right. The forest was not safe. Sebastian would wait until their usual meeting time, but if she failed to return, they would leave. He would do as she asked and forget Padrida.
Regardless, he could never forget her.
Chapter 15
Why did he return?
Olivia took refuge in the comfort of her bed. She should have gone to her mother’s chamber, but she did not care to see anyone. Especially Rosalie. Looking into her sad eyes would make Olivia even more miserable. How would she tell her she had failed, and that Dane conspired with Donovan?
If she could have talked to him alone, she would have assured him that he and Rosalie would be together. She would allow them to marry once she became queen. If it ever happened. If Donovan had his way, it would be short-lived.
Once her father was well, she would tell him everything, and then . . .
Olivia shut her eyes and let out a long, frustrated breath.
What would her father do? Kill Donovan? How else could any king punish someone who had concocted such sinister plans? Another punch to the nose would not resolve something so serious. At the least, Donovan would be imprisoned, but what about Dane? His silence could cost him his freedom and therefore give Rosalie’s child no father.
“Ugh!” Olivia rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers. Once she said her peace, things could go horribly for Rosalie.
She glanced over the side of her bed. The arrow lay there with its letter still attached. More than once, she had contemplated reading it, but that would mean touching it. Yet she had already touched the silly thing when yanking it from the ground.
Sometimes, she despised herself for being so foolish.
She bent down and picked it up, then untied the string.
If reading it killed her, at least she would die with Sebastian’s words in her mind. Her heart fluttered at the simple thought. No man had ever had such an effect on her.
Once again illuminated by candlelight, his writing flowed across the parchment. Perfectly formed letters. Not only had it been written by a prince, but a scholar as well.
She smiled and sighed, then gave the letter
her full attention.
Lady Olivia,
It sounded odd, yet she could not tell him the truth of her identity. After writing that she served the queen, he assumed her to be a lady. Likely because she could write.
Your wonderment is justifiable. If I found myself in your situation, I, too, would long to be free.
In answer to your question, yes, there is such a body of water, vast beyond comprehension. It is called the ocean and lies east of my kingdom. It can be reached in a half-day’s ride. At times, massive waves of water rise higher than a man and lap against the sandy shore. However, unlike a lake, pond, or river, the water of the ocean is filled with salt and is undrinkable.
Olivia rested the letter on her lap. Her heart beat faster than ever, surging with every word. She tried to picture it in her mind, but doing so brought on tears. It was wrong to feel sorry for herself when she had so much. Still . . .
Using the back of her hand, she quickly swiped away the moisture, not wanting even one tear to fall on the parchment.
In the evening, when the sun sets, it casts its waning light over my shoulders. The rays dance across the water and glisten against the sparkling waves. The colors in the sky are indescribable. Shades of orange, red, and purple, with wisps of blue and yellow. As though God took His hand and painted the most beautiful piece of art you could ever imagine. The day ends in brilliance.
I have often slept close to the shore. The sound of the waves lulls me to sleep. And though the sunsets have no comparison in beauty, when the sun rises and wakes me from my dreams, I am renewed and ready to start another day. I know when it ends, I shall have the pleasure of another masterpiece. I go there when I feel uneasy. Like you, I am restless.
I initially journeyed to Black Wood because of my discontent. I enjoy adventure and wanted to disprove the many childhood stories told to me for as long as I can remember. It pains me to know your king of old felt the need to sever your accessibility to the outside world.
I believe the evil you mentioned does not exist in the form you were told. It is not a ‘thing’ or entity, but rather an invisible source that causes illness. Those who died were not possessed. Rather, I feel they suffered from an ailment which can be passed on from a sick animal or from one person to another. The huntsman you wrote of must have come in contact with an infected beast.
