Fear of Fire and Shadow

by S. Young

  “Miss Rogan, are you all right?” Lieutenant Chaeron asked.

  I threw him a brittle smile. I liked Chaeron. A few years ago, I had asked him to stop calling me my lady like everyone else did. He began addressing me as Miss Rogan instead and for that, he held my affection.

  I was about to reassure him when the door to Wolfe’s home opened and he appeared there with a short woman at his side. He turned and kissed her cheek. She smiled warmly up at him before she waved to the Guard.

  “Safe trip, good men!” she called softly.

  “Thank you, my lady!” some of the men returned. She smiled prettily, still very attractive, not even a hint of gray in her chestnut tresses. Her eyes traveled over our entourage and finally found me. Vikomtesa Stovia stiffened and paled at the sight of me. She turned to Wolfe to whisper at him and he shook his head, muttering a reply. She nodded, but when she looked at me again, I could have sworn there was fear in her eyes.

  Seeming to shake herself, she dragged her gaze from me to Chaeron. “Lieutenant Chaeron, take care of my Wolfe, won’t you?”

  Lieutenant Chaeron grinned. “Of course, my lady!”

  Wolfe grimaced before he patted his mother’s hand in reassurance and bounced down the stone steps to mount his horse with an ease and agility that made me envious.

  I looked away sharply, shaken by Vikomtesa Stovia, even more so by her reaction to me … as if I were the one to be feared, not them.

  As soon as we were out of the city, Wolfe pushed us at a fast pace. When we could, we skirted villages; when we couldn’t, we slowed so as not to cause suspicion. I hated those moments, having to wave to the villagers like I was royalty, when in truth I was a farm girl just like many of the Sabithians. Once we were out of the village and onto the main trade roads, Wolfe hurried on and we followed suit. My body ached three hours in, my bottom numb in the saddle. I tried not to show my discomfort. We wouldn’t stop today as we had a late start. We would be riding on until nightfall.

  Lieutenant Chaeron seemed to sense my ever-growing discomfort and talked to me about his family. We shared stories of farm life and I realized how similar the people in Vasterya seemed to those in Sabithia. But not once did I ever mention my family by name, and Chaeron didn’t pry. Everyone knew my sad tale. Everyone knew I didn’t talk about my sad tale. Instead, the lieutenant made me laugh as he spoke of his younger sister and her comical attempts to catch the man of her dreams.

  “Donal is from coal mining country in the northeast of Sabithia,” the lieutenant said. “Quiet, reserved people. He moved to Laerth to live with cousins, start a new life in farming. He wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming attention of my sister.”

  I laughed as he described her outrageous tactics to win Donal.

  “She succeeded, though?” I asked.

  Lieutenant Chaeron snorted. “Kirsta had him wed in under two months. They’ve been married three years now and have two children, more to come, I suspect.”

  From his stories I gathered his entire family was close. It was what I’d always imagined my own would have been like had we been given the chance to grow with one another. I swallowed my grief and encouraged him to tell me more about his own wife and children.

  As night fell, we crossed the River Silvera, and a while later, the River Sabith, and as we passed through a small patch of woodland, we saw lights twinkling in the distance between the trees. Coming out of the woods, I swatted at another insect that had decided my skin was a tasty treat. Not even twenty-four hours in and already I was irritated by the realities of travel.

  “Sabith Town.” Wolfe halted his horse, turning to us as he pointed at the large town in the distance. “We’ll rest here for the night.”

  I swear I almost swooned in relief. And I was not a swooner. I grinned at the lieutenant, and with renewed energy, the Guard loped into a gallop, the men and the cart trailing behind us.

  Seemingly familiar with the town, Wolfe took us straight to a large inn on the outskirts. I was thankful we wouldn’t be trotting through the quiet cobbled streets at this time, waking everyone from their beds.

  The innkeeper, a tall, stout woman with arms like rolling pins, came swaggering out to us, undaunted by our appearance. I smiled. Her robust confidence reminded me of Cook.

  “Well, what a fine sight!” she called heartily as Wolfe dismounted. They shook hands, and it became clear that she and Wolfe were already acquainted.

  “You bring me much business, Captain Wolfe.” She nodded to us all, her eyes landing on me. She dipped me a graceful curtsy at complete odds with her ambling gait. “My lady!” she called up to me. I was beginning to realize that this woman never spoke—she barked. “Well.” She turned to Wolfe. “You’ll be needing a room for that fine lass. As for you and your men, I have five rooms free that I’m sure a good few can share. The rest will need to bunk in the stables.”

  “That’s fine,” Wolfe assured her. He spun around to address Lieutenant Chaeron who dismounted. “Lieutenant, you’ll take the room in the inn nearest to Lady Rogan’s. Assess the size of the other rooms and calculate how many of our men can comfortably share them. I’ll bunk in the stables with the rest.”

  Taken aback by Wolfe’s decision to sleep in the stables, I forgot myself and began to dismount. I was almost to the ground when I felt a hand on my lower back. I knew his scent before I even turned. “I can manage.”

  “I know,” Wolfe replied flatly. “But appearances, my lady, appearances.”

  I huffed in indignation.

  “Child,” he muttered and then took my arm like a gentleman. I tried to escape but he held me fast. “Can you behave for one night, Lady Rogan?” he hissed. “I have to show you to your room.”

  “You’re such a fusspot.” Yet I allowed him to escort me. I gaped in wonder at the openness of the inn. To our left was an arched doorway that led into a spacious eating area and bar. A fire crackled in a large hearth at one end and I shivered at the thought of its delicious heat. To our right was a narrow hallway I surmised led to guest rooms, and before us an open stairway led to the rooms upstairs.

  “Room 11, Captain.” The innkeeper approached, grinning broadly. She thrust the key toward us and Wolfe took it before I could.

  “Thank you, Mags, you’re the best.”

  She blushed at his smile and I groaned inwardly. Dear haven, if a woman like Mags fell for Wolfe’s charm, no woman alive, except me, was safe.

  “I’m sure I can find the room all by myself. I’m a big girl, you know.”

  He grunted and led me upstairs.

  The room was surprisingly nice. A four-poster bed with clean cotton sheets and woven quilts sat at one end, and lo and behold, a lovely fire flickered brilliantly at the other. Very nice.

  “I’ll have Mags bring you up a meal.” Wolfe strode around the room, peering here and there. What in haven was he looking for? “Everything seems in order.” He marched stiffly to the doorway.

  “What? No rookery thieves hiding behind the changing screen?” I asked sarcastically.

  I was rewarded with a disdainful look. “Just lock the door behind me.”

  I shrugged in answer just to annoy him. As the door was closing in his wake, he said, “And stop flirting with my men, my lady. Some of them are married.”

  My cheeks flamed in outrage and the door took the brunt of my thrown traveling bag.

  Chapter 7

  Although Wolfe had promised to take it a little easier after having hurried us through the first day, he kept up what I considered a grueling pace. He only gave us a fifteen-minute respite, and although I understood (more than anyone) the importance of retrieving the plant in good time, I didn’t think we’d get there any faster if we all died from exhaustion. Moreover, the men were befuddled by how quickly we journeyed on, considering this was supposed to be a casual diplomatic trip.

  I managed to antagonize Wolfe into giving us a half-hour respite instead.

  By the third day of our journey, we were close to reaching the
northern border of Sabithia. The previous night we were provided shelter by one of the wealthiest farmers I had ever met. Chaeron told me the breeding of their sheep and the working of their wool were kept a strict secret and their staff were paid well to keep it for them. Whatever their method, Farmer Soel and his family produced the finest wool in all of Phaedra, wool only the wealthy could afford. And as Farmer Soel had welcomed me into his home, his face seemed familiar. Clearly, I had seen him at the marketplace in Silvera.

  Lieutenant Chaeron led me into the house while the rest of the men camped outside or in the stables. Wolfe had insisted I needed a chaperone, and I insisted that chaperone be Lieutenant Chaeron.

  After a wonderful sleep, it was jarring to get back on the horse, but as the hours wore on, I realized my aching muscles were growing used to the saddle.

  Thank haven for small mercies.

  The light faded as we cantered into what Chaeron called Lumberland. Most of northern Sabithia was covered in forestation, and the province purchased much of its wood for housing and furniture from the numerous forestry establishments.

  Wolfe followed signs posted along a route that allowed travelers to pass safely. By the time we drew clear of the forest, the day had grown dark as it gave way to night. We trotted toward the small village on the forest’s edge. A lumber factory on its outskirts marred its quaint beauty.

  Despite the lateness of the hour, people milled about and noise levels rose at our appearance. Wolfe raised his hand and the lieutenant halted. I pulled on Midnight’s reins to draw her to a stop. We watched as Wolfe approached a tall man who wore his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The stranger’s face glistened with sweat and was dirty with grime. Wolfe spoke, and the man nodded before he strode toward the factory and disappeared inside.

  Only minutes later, he returned outside accompanied by another tall, strapping man, perhaps in his late fifties. He spoke to Wolfe and then the captain led him over to us.

  “My lady. Lieutenant,” Wolfe addressed us. I saw weariness in the back of his eyes. We were all a little tired today. It had been especially hot. “This is Jac Dena. And this is the village of Woodmill. Jac owns the largest lumber establishment in northern Sabithia.”

  Jac grinned proudly and nodded his head at me. “Nice to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

  I nodded, too tired to find an appropriate response.

  “Jac has graciously invited Lady Rogan and Lieutenant Chaeron to stay with him and his family. He will prevail upon the rest of the village to give the Guard shelter for the night.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dena,” I said gratefully. I was desperate for food and sleep. “That’s extremely kind of you.”

  “Oh, not at all, not at all, my lady.” He gave me a slight bow. “We are honored to offer hospitality to the Royal Guard and the Handmaiden of Phaedra.”

  I glared at Wolfe. Damn him repeating that stupid nickname.

  He smirked unrepentantly back at me.

  I found myself seated at a sturdy table, in a cozy kitchen, with wonderful aromas that made my stomach clench in anticipation. Lieutenant Chaeron sat beside me, looking as weary as I felt.

  Jac’s home wasn’t overly large, but it was comfortably furnished, and it appeared as though his family had everything they needed. His wife, a pretty, petite woman, stammered in my presence (bloody Wolfe) and flittered around us like a wee butterfly. Jac sat at the head of the table, and after arguing quite profusely, I settled across from his two sons instead of at the other end of the table where Mrs. Dena normally sat and where they’d insisted I sit in her stead. However, I would never dream of entering someone else’s home only to act like an overbearing, superior kralovna.

  Mrs. Dena finally took a seat and we served ourselves. I became uncomfortably aware of the Denas’ two sons staring at me. My cheeks flushed under their scrutiny. The eldest, Jac Junior, was around my age, the youngest, Leon, perhaps Haydyn’s. I had never before been the target of such open attention, and I squirmed in my seat. From the corner of my eye, I saw Chaeron grip his knife a little too tightly.

  Thankfully, Jac cut through the tension by asking questions about Silvera. I tried my best to answer them graciously. After all, they had opened their home to strangers, and I was more than thankful to be off my horse for a while. I’m sure Midnight was equally thankful.

  I told them of the palace and when Mrs. Dena grew excited at the mention of the royal marketplace, I described the different items that could be found there.

  Mrs. Dena opened her mouth to respond to my descriptions, but her son spoke first.

  “By gee …” Leon’s dark eyes fixated on me.

  My fork hovered halfway to my mouth, my eyes wide with surprise at the insolent expression of desire on his face. The boy looked as if he was picturing me naked. I flushed harder.

  “You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. And that’s including Shera. Shera’s the fairest girl in Woodmill, but she isn’t as pretty as you.”

  Jac Senior began to reprimand, “Leon, don’t—”

  Jac Junior’s slap across Leon’s head cut him off. “Don’t be speaking to royalty like that, Leon. And don’t be speaking about Shera at all. I told you to stay away from my girl.”

  “She’s not your girl,” Leon hissed, purpling with anger.

  I unconsciously slid toward the lieutenant as the boys’ argument grew more heated. Neither listened to their parents’ demands to cease embarrassing them. I flinched as the discussion became aggressive in light of some personal revelations.

  “What do you mean you kissed her?” Jac Junior dove at his brother, and the two crashed to the floor, chairs and all.

  As fists met flesh, images of Kir on the muddy ground, a giant soldier towering over him in the dark, pierced my mind. I stumbled from the table and the fight, my skin prickling unpleasantly. Lieutenant Chaeron strode across the room, pushed Jac Senior out of his way, and hauled Leon off Jac Junior. He shoved the boy aside and stood between them as the eldest son jumped to his feet. He moved to lunge at his brother and Chaeron pushed him back.

  “Enough!” The lieutenant bellowed before he turned to glare at Jac Dena. “What manner of behavior is this in front of Lady Rogan? If these boys ever hope to become men, I suggest you teach them some discipline.”

  Jac’s face was bloodred with humiliation. “I apologize, Lieutenant. I’ve never been so ashamed in my life.” He grabbed his sons, growling as he pushed them out of the room and into the back of the home. I looked at Mrs. Dena who looked so confused and alarmed by her sons’ behavior that realization hit me with sudden dread.

  Silent communication passed between me and Chaeron.

  This was it.

  The Dyzvati magic was failing in Sabithia.

  People who were inclined toward temper would no longer be affected and soothed by Haydyn’s evocation. They would react as they would do naturally, the heat of anger no longer tamed by my friend and her magic. It never even crossed my mind that it might be natural for brothers, close in age, to fight so. To Phaedrians under the Dyzvati spell for so long, natural was to curb any instincts that may disrupt the peace, despite any inward feelings of anger, passion, or violence.

  That night, Chaeron insisted upon sleeping on a pallet in the room the Denas offered me.

  I didn’t question it.

  His presence was reassuring.

  Chapter 8

  Wolfe was visibly concerned when Chaeron told him what happened as we readied to leave the next morning. He glanced around to make sure none of the men were listening and then looked at me. “Are you all right?” he asked, brows furrowed with anger.

  I retreated from his penetrating stare, perturbed by what I sensed was worry.

  For me.

  Yet that couldn’t be.

  Wolfe stared at me a moment too long, and I realized his concern was not for me but for the kingdom. For a brief second, I wanted to reassure him.

  But then I remembered who he was and turned from him to mo
unt Midnight.

  It rained in Raphizya.

  Not light, showery rain to ease our hot skin but hard, pelting rain that pummeled in large drops as if punishing us with its fury at having been dominated by the sun for too long. My cloak stuck to my dress like a second skin, making movement on the horse difficult. Not to mention I had to keep pulling my cloak closed because my muslin dress left little to the imagination, plastered as it was to my body.

  We stopped at an inn that night and I stood naked by the fire for so long, the backs of my legs turned blotchy and red. I didn’t care. I was blissfully warm.

  The next day the sun returned, not so hot as before, and we gathered together for a milder, more comfortable journey. I winced as a chorus of sneezing sounded from the men behind me and prayed that none of them were very ill.

  When Wolfe stopped for lunch, it was in a massive, open field. In the distance we saw cows and sheep in neighboring farmlands. The grass was as green as green could be, as green as a master painter’s imagination, and a single, beautiful willow tree attracted the men as they dismounted. Some gathered around it, talking and laughing as they sipped thirstily from their canteens and munched on bread we had bought from the people of Woodmill.

  I fed Midnight an apple and then left her to graze with the men. I required a moment of peace. Alone. I didn’t wander far. They were still in sight, but now their voices were mere murmurs on the wind.

  I noted Wolfe sitting with Chaeron and a few others as they ate oatcakes and laughed together. I shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling that perhaps I’d misjudged Wolfe and had unjustifiably blamed him for his father’s deeds. So far he had proven himself to be strong and fair. His men loved him, obeyed and trusted him, despite his young age.