Singer's Sword

by Cassandra Boyson

“That is all.” She had no intention of relaying her business to anyone, let alone this girl. “Here you are.” She handed the stitching back to Stacia.

  Stacia laughed, turning to Hazel with new eyes. “Lady Hazel, you are a wonder. I don’t think another woman in this castle could have brought order to my chaos in twice the time.”

  “Oh, well, I’ve performed my share of needlepoint.”

  “Don’t I know it. Lady Nora is always showing it off to my mother, who, in turn, shoves it in my face in hopes I will improve myself. But it hasn’t any effect, I’m afraid, for I couldn’t care any less.”

  “My… cousin shows off my work?”

  “She simply dotes over it.”

  Huh… Hazel fell back into her chair with folded arms. Something near a smile was attempting to cross her face. So, she wasn’t completely lacking in virtue, after all. She could sew.

  “Do you actually like this… stuff.” Stacia held up her current project.

  “Not at all.”

  “Then why do you do it all the time?”

  “Lady Nora.”

  “Ah. I can imagine your guardian seeks perfection in all you do, since she is so flawless herself.”

  Hazel raised her brows, intrigued by the girl’s intuition. “You are correct,” she replied, working to conceal her astonishment.

  “Of course I am. I do not speak unless I feel quite certain I will be.”

  “Because you wouldn’t wish your reputation as a brain to go amiss.” The words were out of Hazel’s mouth before she realized.

  Stacia chuckled. “It seems we have been skimming through one another’s mail.”

  Hazel could only gaze off with a concealed smirk. Stacia was being pleasant. If she’d have known her gift for fixing needlepoint fiascos could earn her an element of respect, she’d have raced about the castle doing just that a long time ago.

  “I’m beginning to think it’s rather a pity Dianna hates you so much,” Stacia began. “You’re really not as senseless as I had you pegged for.”

  Hazel couldn’t begin to think how to respond, but her heart began to race as a question occurred to her. Dare she ask it? “Why does she hate me so?”

  “Mm, that’s never really been clear to me,” Stacia said offhandedly, as if she had no idea what her answer might mean to Hazel. “But I do know Armond was to blame for the whole Affrontery vengeance.”

  “Armond?”

  “Dianna was speaking ill of you one day, mocking something or other she’d seen you do—don’t recall what. Anyway, Armond stepped in, much like he did last night. Said we ought to make a friend of you or something… Oh, yes, I remember. We’d been making fun of your… well, I’m afraid we’d been going on about how little effort you put into your appearance. But I suppose you couldn’t care less…”

  Hazel did care, somewhat. Lady Nora simply did not provide very attractive attire for her, nor did Hazel possess her own maid for beautifying. Most often, she attempted something fashionable herself, but it was a gift she did not possess.

  “Anyway, he said he thought you a pretty little thing and we ought to be making an effort to include you in our circle. And, well, I suppose Dianna took that notion into her head the wrong way and invited you to that game of Affrontery to make you look a fool before Armond. Didn’t work out well for her, as I recollect.”

  Hazel couldn’t reply. Her heart was racing… in the happiest way possible. Armond had not only stood up for her, he’d said he thought her pretty… had actually attempted to get the girls to befriend her.

  “You bear feelings for him,” Stacia said with a grin, now utterly abandoning her needlework.

  “Oh, no, er, I, of course not.”

  “Of course you do. Everyone does. But you, my lady… well, funnily enough, I’d say you might actually have a chance. After all, I’ve never heard him call a girl pretty before.”

  “I-I don’t know…” The familiar blush flooded her face.

  “You should tell him!” Stacia said with real interest now. It seemed if one wished to bond with a Dianna-follower, one must possess skill with a needle and speak of potential admirers.

  “I couldn’t.”

  Stacia took up her needlepoint again. “Suit yourself… but I’d tell him if I thought I had a chance.”

  * * *

  Days later, Hazel yet contemplated her conversation with Stacia—the rarest and most unexpected one they’d shared. Since then, whenever they came across one another, Stacia raised a daring brow at her, pressing her to speak to Armond. Why Stacia cared, Hazel could not fathom… except that the girl must be weary of her own love life. Then again, there was always the chance she meant to press Hazel into humiliating herself before Armond. But even as this was the likeliest possibility, she did not believe it so. Unexpectedly, she and Stacia had become… friendly. To further the notion, she was certain she’d witnessed Dianna about to come after her for the usual round of insults, but Stacia rerouted her elsewhere. It was impossible, of course, but Hazel’s intuition informed her it was the case.

  On the other hand, every time she saw Armond, she ran for the hills. Though she’d always been timid with him, the idea of facing him, knowing he saw her as more than the pitiful girl with the shameful background, terrified her. He thought she was pretty. And she had no idea how to respond to that. After all, he’d defended her three times now, that she knew of. To her, that looked like he took special interest. Then again, he was thoughtful without even trying. It was his nature.

  How she wished she had some trusted friend she could discuss the dilemma with. If the prophet were at court, she might venture enough courage to speak to him, but he was off nobody knew where, as usual. Customarily, she would speak her mind to Dorian, tell him all about her latest Armond news. And he would have advised her. He offered surprisingly sound advice. But now…

  She froze. Her feet had escorted her to the passage that led to the dungeons. This had not been done of her conscious volition and by no means would she follow where her feet itched to go. Turning away, she froze again.

  He had told her not to come. She had meant to listen, to take this last piece of the soundest advice he’d ever given her. Even so, it was curiosity and (if she admitted to herself) her heart which made her start down the dark stairwell. Once again, the guard did not stop her from making her way down the maze of delirious prisoners.

  At last, she came to his cell where he lay asleep on the stone floor.

  She cleared her throat.

  “As if I wish to be awoken for more of that gruel.”

  “It’s me.”

  Instantly, he sat up. “What are you doing here?” he accused.

  “Appeasing my curiosity. You look horrible.” Indeed, there were deep shadows beneath his gray, dreary eyes. His hair was a mess of dust and oil and his clothes were caked in dirt. “Don’t they feed you, clothe you?”

  “Who cares?” he said, falling back against the wall to cross his arms in a cheerless motion.

  “I don’t know…” she replied, turning her gaze from him. “I guess I had always heard the king treated his prisoners with… well, unmerited leniency.”

  He shrugged.

  “What’s wrong, Dorian?”

  “I’m in prison.”

  “There’s something more…”

  He shook his head.

  “Dor—”

  “I killed a guard.”

  “What?!”

  “I tried to escape… Turns out I hurt someone, shoved them too hard. Their head smacked the stone floor.”

  “Oh…” she gasped dizzily. “H-how did you find this out?”

  “The guards pay me regular visits now.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t help wondering which guardsman it had been, if she’d known him.

  “I didn’t mean to,” he admitted, emotion creeping into his voice. “I never intended—it was an accident, I swear… not that you have any reason to believe me.”

  She stepped forward
, grasping the bars.

  He was crying.

  “I know you didn’t mean to…” And she did. She had no doubt.

  “You were right, Hazel. And I was wrong. I should never have got caught up with the underground… They’re a bunch of greedy thugs grasping at clouds in a senseless attempt to find… I don’t know what.”

  Not wishing to rub it in, she carefully searched for how to respond. “How did you get caught that day you were found robbing the king?”

  “Some of the men and I were in the treasury. When we heard a guardsman sound the alarm, it was chaos. We’d been getting away with it for so long. Everyone else had escaped through the hidden tunnel but me. When they heard the guardsmen shouting, they closed it off.”

  “So, they just left you behind to be captured…? You could have been hanged.”

  “I deserve no less.”

  “Dorian—”

  “You know it’s true.”

  “I-I don’t… I wouldn’t want you to be hanged.”

  “Of course not.” He turned away from her. “You’re soft.” He looked to her face again, his eyes clearer than she’d seen them since before his capture. “Don’t be soft, Hazel. Don’t come to see me anymore.”

  She gripped the bars. “Armond said I was pretty.”

  “Wh-at?”

  “And Stacia thinks I should tell him how I feel.”

  “Stacia?”

  “I don’t know what to do. I want to tell him. I want him to know. I want to know if there’s a chance…”

  “With pretty boy?”

  “I have to know in case I find a way to get back to the southern region… in case I have to escape the Galfreen duke.”

  “Why would you have to escape a duke?”

  “He’s looking to purchase a bride. Lady Nora is looking to sell.”

  He stood then, striding to the bars. “You’re not going to be sold to some duke from godforsaken Galfree. You love Kierelia.”

  “I do… It’s why I’m looking for a reason to stay.”

  He gazed at her a long while, thinking what, she had no idea. At last, he pulled away. “Tell pretty boy how you feel. He’d be a chump not to care for you.”

  11

  Armond was in the garden. This was her moment. She would tell him all. But his dark hair shining in the sunlight made it difficult to move forward.

  “Hazel,” he said when he found her in her hiding place. He looked pleased to see her.

  She offered a weak smile. “How are you this evening?”

  “I’m well enough. Just been to see my uncle, the king. He isn’t in one of his pleasanter moods.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry…” She wondered if it had something to do with the fact that she hadn’t been to see him with the answer he’d asked for.

  “It is quite all right. He is often in a temper of late.”

  It surprised her to hear he’d been upset with someone other than herself, even his beloved nephew, whom he loved as a son. It made her position in the king’s eyes seem much less disastrous.

  He smiled at her then. “But how have you been faring since last we met? I do hope that duke ceased hounding you.”

  “Thus far, he has.”

  “Good. I believe he took his leave of our kingdom yesterday. You ought to be quite safe now.” He eyed her a moment. “I am surprised Lady Nora would even consider you for such a match.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Things get around… not to mention you were sat with him at banquet that evening.”

  “You noticed?”

  “Everyone did. He was the talk of the evening. Anyway, I do hope my aunt will find someone better for you than that mercenary.”

  “I… hope so too.” Silence commenced as Hazel’s heart and mind raced. “Armond… I must admit I came looking for you for a purpose.”

  His brows rose. “Is there something I may aid you with?”

  “Not necessarily, I—” Her stomach leaped into her throat. She gulped it down. “I came with a confession.”

  “That sounds serious,” he said with concern. “Shall we sit?” He gestured to the stone bench behind her.

  “That may help.”

  The sun cast a hazy glow over the flowers and shrubs surrounding. The perfection of the moment made her all the more anxious. Suppose Dorian and Stacia were wrong? She couldn’t do this. There would be no going back. But if she left for the tribes without knowing… well, she simply wouldn’t be able to leave.

  He took her hand, his eyes urging. “Hazel, unburden yourself.”

  She plunged. “Armond, since I could remember… I’ve cared a great deal for you. I’ve admired and esteemed you. You’ve been… a kind of role model. But of later years… my-my feelings have changed—deepened, I suppose. You see, you’re rather wonderful. Your consideration for others, your feeling heart. I suppose… what I mean to confess is… I have feelings for you.” It wasn’t quite what she’d meant to say. She’d held back.

  Searching her face, he gave her hand a squeeze… then released it.

  It dropped into her lap.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he began tiredly. “I really hadn’t expected this of you.”

  “Why-why not?”

  “I didn’t think you were like the rest.”

  Her eyes shone. Why did she always have to be so different?

  “Aw, don’t look that way. I just… think you’re so much cleverer than them.”

  She stood, working to cover her trembling hands behind her back. “You think… it wisdom that I not recognize your admirable qualities?”

  He rubbed at the back of his neck, more perplexed than she’d seen him. “I thought you were something above the girls who’re always pining after me.”

  She froze, the most surprising irritation settling in. “And now I’m not because… I think you’re wonderful?”

  He shook his head. “I am sorry, Hazel. It isn’t personal. I harbor feelings for no one just now. I suppose I just thought I was safe with you.”

  She stood and nearly dropped but caught herself against the bench. “Well... I apologize for being such a disappointment to you.” Unable to take a breath, she stood again and turned on her heels, fleeing the accursed golden garden. Stacia must have known this was how it would turn out, that she would humiliate herself and somehow fall even lower in his estimation. Something above the other girls? Was she only worth something to him if she did not love him? It was the most bewildering statement she’d ever heard.

  Shame for having confessed her feelings—for having felt them all those years—coursed like hot fury in her blood. Her hands shook as she made her way through the corridors. Eyes blurry with tears nearly shed, she could not seem to remember the castle’s order for that day and kept bumping into walls. Angrily, she tore down the tapestry before her and used it to wipe the wet from her eyes. At last, she found where her tower door stood and raced up the stairs.

  Upon reaching the landing, she froze.

  The door had opened again.

  “What on the planet Kaern are you doing up there, girl?” Lady Nora called up after her.

  Hazel remained where she was, hands shaking.

  Lady Nora drew beside her to survey the room. “What is this place?” As if as a villain in a nightmare, her gaze fell upon the bookshelf. She strode over to it, proceeding to pull a volume from the shelf. “I gave you this last year…” She thumbed through it. “Seems you bothered to give it a read.” She replaced it and met her ward’s eye. “This is the hiding place, is it not?” She glanced around again. “Really made it your own, I see… How long have you been coming up here then? How often have you heard me call below and ignored my plea?”

  “Never, Lady Nora,” Hazel replied numbly. “I always come when you call.”

  “Yet, you never bother to remain in a place where I might find you should I require your aid. Did it ever occur to you to desire to be of service to those who sacrifice for you? To those to whom you owe so great a debt?�
��

  “I believe I have done enough to earn what you’ve given me, Lady Nora.”

  The woman’s flawless brows rose into her hairline. “I see. So, you think nothing of living in this castle, allowed to dwell among the gentry, fed from the king’s table, clothed by my pocket.”

  The fire raged hotter in Hazel’s veins. “The king’s pocket. You live by the mercies of your brother, as do I.”

  It was a single, silent moment before Lady Nora grasped a book and hurled it across the room. She marched up to her ward, pointing a finger in her face. “You,” she breathed, “have no right to speak to me that way.”

  “I have only spoken the truth, something that ought to be done more often… something I should have done long ago.”

  A hand smacked across Hazel’s face, sending her vision into starry night skies. Before long, her guardian had slammed the tower door shut following her exit. She proceeded to call after one of the guardsmen. Hazel couldn’t begin to guess at her aim until she heard a key turn in the lock.

  She turned from the stairwell and sat in her window nook, resting her arms upon the sill. Kierelia’s landscape rolled out before her in all its sunset glory. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t bear the sight. Should her guardian ever release her from this tower (difficult to believe at the moment), she would flee the kingdom without another thought. With nothing more than the clothes on her back and her caged galmoira, she would walk out the front gates and not stop until her feet hit the southern forest.

  * * *

  Her ears were ringing. No, someone was singing, far away. She sat up, shaking her head after the deepest sleep she’d ever experienced, likely due to the disappointments of the day before. No, someone was shrieking at her. She’d heard it before: the ruby bedposts in her bedroom. Though her bedroom would be on the other side of the castle, they managed to reach her ears.

  “I’ve heard you,” she murmured, rubbing at her ears.

  They ceased.

  But there were still shrieks below and… there was a haze in the room.

  She stood to observe outside but saw little through the haze. Taking a chair to the window, she smashed it through to have her deepest fears confirmed. Smoke billowed from castle windows and turrets, from the trees of the forest surrounding. Castlehaven was aflame. Ducking back inside, she searched for a cloth to hold to her face, regretting her decision to burst open the window as smoke flooded the room. Soon, the atmosphere was so thick, she could not see where she went. She nearly toppled down the stairs when a bright light pierced the smog. Still in its sheath beneath her stuffed chair, the ruby blade lit the room.