A Bird of Sorrow

by Shea Godfrey

  “All the best girls do.”

  “I’ll leave a trail for you.”

  Bentley stepped away. “I’d slap your horse’s ass, but I imagine she’d pound me into the ground before I could appreciate the foolishness of this entire endeavor.”

  Jessa pulled the reins and Vhaelin Star backed away until they turned, and Jessa tapped her heels to the filly’s ribs. Vhaelin Star high-stepped once more into the brush beyond the clearing and the trees closed in as they moved along the trail, their path darker than Jessa had expected. The wilds of the Yellandale swallowed them up rather easily, and Jessa clicked her tongue for a bit more speed despite the unknown terrain.

  The forest was filled with life and more obscure than she had imagined. Small animals moved among the growth that covered the forest floor and high up in the trees, as well, and Jessa recognized only a half of what she had encountered thus far. The forest had become Hinsa’s home since they had left the Green Hills behind, and it was a heady, magnificent place.

  Jessa knew she had been a fool not to pursue Radha’s scrolls with more vigor, as well as the many scrolls she had hastily taken from Sebastian’s Tower. She had neglected her studies when her knowledge had been needed the most. The fear that Darry might not wish to come back after living in the depths of her majik was like a fresh wound, and it was a harsh one.

  Their present life was an intoxicating thing for both of them, to be in a place of freedom where their responsibilities were only what they needed to be. For Darry especially, Jessa had realized early on. Not only had Darry needed time to heal, but to see Darry at her leisure with her friends and comrades was a joyful thing. Jessa had been easily lulled into the harmony their often aimless pursuits provided. They worked hard, for the estate was large, but for the first time in perhaps all of their lives, Darry’s Boys’ included, they were beholden to no one and duty bound only to each other and the well-being of their company. Darry had been most adamant that they rest while they had the chance.

  Darry had released her majik in full during the attack by the Sahwello, after a lifetime of hiding and repressing her connection to Hinsa. The boundaries of her majik had expanded and changed in a drastic manner, and untapped depths of power had risen up to fill the void. That Darry’s body might not be strong enough to contain and control her new power had never occurred to her. Jessa had spent very little time considering how those changes might affect Darry’s abilities where her Cha-Diah powers were concerned, and the omission had been a dangerous one.

  As Jessa traveled farther into the heart of the Yellandale and night fell, even her witchlight was not enough. She could see very little after the sun went down, and it was not a comfortable feeling. She was not an experienced tracker, nor a hunter, and she was bitterly amused by her lack of experience altogether. A lifetime of being a Princess of the Blood and sequestered behind the walls of the Jade Palace had yet to reveal any skill that would come in truly useful in the wild. She was learning though, and she had spent a great portion of her time since leaving Lyoness on the road and amongst those who would impart their knowledge when asked. When they happened upon a new game trail miles beyond the clearing, they followed it.

  Radha’s words continued to haunt her. You must mind the strength and the nature of the animal that is within her, and have a care when her power is high. The panther is a wild creature, always remember that. Do not ever forget that, Jessa, or you might both regret it.

  Her throat was tight and she wiped at her tears with an angry hand as they dampened her cheeks. The realization that her knowledge did not match her power was a bitter taste upon her tongue that she could not wash away. She did not like regret in the least, and being lost within a strange forest in the dead of night did nothing to ease her remorse.

  Vhaelin Star huffed and lifted her head, Jessa’s dark thoughts pushed to the side as she pulled the reins back. She could hear a new and welcome sound in the darkness, and much to her relief, she recognized the flow of running water. Jessa clicked her tongue and gave the filly her freedom along the narrow trail.

  Chapter Five

  High King Owen Durand walked through the front room of his private chambers in Blackstone Keep and pushed the hood back from his cloak.

  Autumn was upon them, and though it was not yet too cold, the dark cloak was long and light and it would provide him with the secrecy he desired. The guards that stood watch at the entrance to their private wing did so now with dogs, as well, and they did so in two-hour shifts. After the Sahwello attack, he refused to take any chances with Cecelia’s life.

  The Palace Guard had been decimated that night, but their numbers had come back strong, with an entire platoon of veteran soldiers from Alistair Lewellyn’s command signing on. Cecelia’s family was a force to be reckoned with, and in this instance, the Lewellyn crest with its motto of family and loyalty could not have been more accurate. It pleased him, as well, that men whose families Cecelia had known since she was a child were now a part of her daily life. It should not have taken an assassination attempt to provide such a simple comfort for his wife.

  Blackstone Keep was filled to the rafters with guests, and he could not remember the last time so many relatives, both his own and Cecelia’s, had been under his roof. They had planned on a huge celebration for Jacob and Alisha’s Solstice wedding, but that had not come to pass as they had once imagined it. A quiet ceremony in the Queen’s Garden had been held instead, and considering the circumstances, he had been most pleased with the outcome. The celebrations for Solstice had taken place as he promised they would, and the fortnight of festivities had included a special fete for Jacob and his new bride, which had sufficed.

  The autumn moon celebration just the night before had been the liveliest in years, and though he had other things on his mind, he was relieved that Cecelia had seemed to enjoy the revels. No doubt the arrival of Wyatt and the Seventh, as well as the Fourth from Kastamon City but a week later, had played a part in that.

  Malcolm had tended his flock of powerful young lords with skill and charm, and he had added to the list of names that might support his hopes and plans for the future. With those young men, however, the older generations had appeared, and Owen knew every rotting one of them. They had fought battles and waged war together, and they had wooed women looking for the one that might love them for the fools they were. Together they had shaped Arravan, and not a single one of them had forgotten it. Malcolm might be feeling his power at the moment, but there were twenty doting grandfathers he himself had added to his council, and every one of them could still pull a young man’s heart out with their bare hands if they had to. Although the most relevant power they held was over the family purse strings.

  The game was in play, and while he was close to completing his plans for the assault on the Fakir in their Kistanbal stronghold, his priorities had been drastically shifted by the death of Bharjah. His assassination had caused a wave of chaos in Lyoness as Jessa’s brothers vied for the throne, despite Sylban-Tenna’s declaration. Owen had not forgotten what Jessa had said, and he suspected that the real fighting would begin before Winter Solstice. The dance for allies and resources had gone on for months, and while there had been several minor battles, the true war for power was about to begin.

  Darry and Jessa’s disappearance had caused utter chaos, and Owen had known at once that it was the most dangerous situation of all.

  Something dark and foul had happened that night, aside from the murder of Marteen Salish, and he was determined he would learn the fate of his youngest child. As a tactician he was well aware that Darry and Jessa’s flight from Blackstone had not been an action born out of guilt or vengeance, but a retreat instead, and a rather magnificent one at that. It had been a defensive maneuver meant to ensure survival, and for Darry to take such a drastic measure instead of burying her dagger at Malcolm’s feet, she must have been left with no other choice. If that had been his daughter’s last, best hope, he would find out why, no matter what it might c
ost him.

  If he was lucky, more than a few questions would be answered this night, and he wanted Cecelia to be there for whatever those answers might be. Darry’s sudden disappearance was too much like a fatal loss, and the grief it was causing was a terribly familiar weight. And he could not deny that Jessa’s absence from their lives had caused an additional sorrow that he could not seem to shake. He had let her down, his young queen, and it was a bitter failure.

  He stepped through the archway into the bedroom and his eyes were drawn to the hearth.

  Cecelia sat in her favorite chair and at her leisure, her dark gray dress one of her favorites when the weather was cool and her duties were light. Her eyes were closed, and there was a small book on her lap, the fingers of her left hand tucked between the pages.

  He approached the chair beside hers.

  “You’re out and about very late, my love,” Cecelia said before he could sit.

  Owen smiled as he flipped the back of his cloak out and sat down, claiming the edge of the cushion.

  “Should I be worried?”

  Owen took note of the tease in her eyes, though it was not as filled with fire as it once was. “Only that I might get a cramp in my hip, and tumble down the back stairs into the kitchen.”

  Cecelia chuckled happily. “That’s why I had the rail put there.”

  He blinked at her, surprised. “That was you?”

  “Of course it was,” she said with a sly grin. “The last thing you need with so many guests in attendance is to be carried from the kitchen in your nightclothes for trying to steal a pastry in the dead of night.”

  Owen’s expression tightened. “If the pastry is in my own kitchen, I cannot be stealing it.”

  “Just so, then.”

  She looked at him with love and he felt their old life brush past him in the warmth of the flames from the hearth. He leaned his right elbow on his knee as he sat forward. “I swear upon my mother’s bones, Cecelia Lewellyn, you are more beautiful to me at this moment than when I first saw you in your father’s hall…” She was startled by his words. “There is no majik more powerful to me than your face beneath the light of an autumn fire. You make me as weak as a spindly legged lad.”

  She smiled and leaned her temple against the wing of her chair. “Keep talking like that, rich boy, and you won’t need the fire to keep you warm tonight.”

  He felt the push of blood through his veins at her words.

  She lifted her head away from the chair, a new spark in her eyes. “What have you been playing at, Owen?”

  “I would like you to come with me. Are you up for a late-night walk?”

  “And where would you take me?”

  Owen considered avoiding the truth, but he had learned long ago that such diversions never worked as planned where Cecelia was concerned. “With all good luck, to Sebastian’s Tower.”

  His answer took her completely by surprise.

  He gathered his words and let them fall into place. “Jessa’s majik is a thing to be wary of, to be sure. There are two men still in the infirmary, two men left out of fifty who’ve been injured trying to enter that bloody maze. Her spells are not unknown to the priests of Gamar, as you know, but there are significant differences—”

  “In the runes,” Cecelia agreed. He had her full attention and he was glad of it. “The shamans of the plains let their spells gather from the elements, and from the earth itself. It is a blending of wills, not an intrusion of one upon the other.”

  Owen nodded. “Precisely…and this has had me thinking, then, of a majik that at its roots may have a more familiar flavor to those damn weeds and—”

  “Jezara!” Cecelia interrupted again as she sat forward.

  Owen smiled. “Right again.”

  “Owen.”

  “Do not run ahead, Cece,” he warned her with some compassion. The emotion held by but a single word from her was overwhelming. It was the first he had seen of her true spirit since Darry and Jessa had disappeared. “Jezara’s influence is not the same, and I have been warned of such. But I do think that I have found something no one else could have.”

  She waited.

  “A year or two before my brother was to marry Luce Malakee, he fell in love with a young woman from Artanis. They had a secret affair, and from time to time, I helped them in keeping their love hidden, so they might meet undetected.”

  Cecelia seemed thrown by his words and the direction in which they had gone. “Luce Malakee,” she said softly. “Blessed Gamar, I haven’t thought of her in many years. We were good friends, once upon an age.”

  “Malcolm and this young woman had an affair for almost a year, and all things considered, it was a somewhat forbidden relationship on several levels.”

  “You never told me this,” she replied, and he could hear the disbelief.

  “Luce was your good friend, remember?” He leaned against the arm of his chair. “And that Malcolm would ask for my help with something so important to him…” Owen felt in that moment like the young man he had once been, always one stride behind his hero, and yet another behind the brother he loved. “He never needed me for too much.”

  Cecelia’s eyes filled with feeling while the fire shifted and the night moved beyond the locked balcony doors. “Why was it forbidden?” she asked softly.

  “Because she was to be a priestess of Jezara’s temple.” He made a face of disagreement. “And while Jezara most certainly does not forbid the pleasures of the flesh, she does forbid liaisons that might deter a rising acolyte from her devotions.” He sat back a bit. “And this affair was most certainly that. When she was discovered by the High Priestess at the time, the Mistress Antonia, it was a great scandal in the ranks of Jezara’s followers. She was made to choose between her devotion to Jezara and her love for my brother. It was a horrible situation and Malcolm pleaded with the Mistress on their behalf. But it did no good, and the girl was forced to choose which love she would follow.

  “She was the daughter of a fisherman, one of the skiff trawlers of Artanis. In the end, she chose for herself what she thought to be best. She and Malcolm were allowed to meet one last time beneath the blessings of the goddess, and then their affair was over. He was to marry Luce the following year, but the Lowland War broke out. He did not live to see his heart full once more.”

  Cecelia’s eyes were rich with emotion. “Owen.”

  “I know, I see it…At least Jezara offered freedom and power, and a multitude of pleasures that might fulfill a woman’s desires. I offered but gold, and the weight of a shame Aiden was never meant to bear.”

  Cecelia sat forward and reached out to him. “That’s not what I was going to say, my love.” Her eyes were tender as he took her hand. “I’m sorry that you’ve carried this sadness alone, all of these years. Poor Malcolm.”

  Owen gave her fingers a squeeze before letting go. “He did not speak of what might have been said on their last night, but he seemed at peace with it, in all honesty. The point of their story, however, is how what happened then affects our story now.”

  “Which is what? How?”

  “They would meet in Sebastian’s Tower.”

  Cecelia stared at him.

  Owen couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit roguish. “And when they were there, the maze itself would answer to her spells, at least somewhat, and protect them from any who might try to enter, even the gardeners.”

  Cecelia’s eyes widened. “Who was she?”

  “A better question would be, who she is now.”

  Cecelia’s eyes were intense as she waited and her patience at his silence came to an end rather quickly. “Owen?”

  “She is the Mistress Clare Bellaq,” he answered, satisfied as he watched her reaction. “The High Priestess of Jezara’s holy temple in Artanis.”

  Cecelia’s expression turned to shock. “Gamar’s rotting hounds!”

  Owen laughed. “Indeed.”

  “But how does that help us?” Cecelia demanded as she sat forward i
n her chair. “I don’t see how she—”

  Owen held up his hand and she was instantly silent. “If I had remembered these things earlier today, while Grissom and I discussed promotions for the officers, it wouldn’t help us in the least. But I did not. I thought of it when Jacob kissed Alisha in the wild heart of your garden, and sealed their pledge of marriage on Solstice Eve.” Owen pushed up from his chair and looked down at his wife. He held out his hand. “Would you care to attend the midnight service with me at Gamar’s Temple?”

  Cecelia slipped her hand in his but did not stand.

  He pulled her to her feet and she stepped readily into his arms, still holding her book and somewhat amazed as she looked up at him. “I hear that sometimes, you might run into an old friend.”

  Chapter Six

  The trees began to thin out and Jessa smiled as they moved into the long, heavy grass that lined the banks of a reasonably sized stream. She turned Vhaelin Star and they stopped in an easy manner. Jessa dismounted and gathered the reins, her legs stiff as she took the first few steps. Jessa patted Star in appreciation, and the filly snorted and gave a playful step as they walked to the stream. Jessa laughed quietly as her boots crunched upon the pebbles and grit near the edge, and Vhaelin Star stepped in the water and lowered her head.

  Jessa listened to the night around them and her blood gave a small push of excitement. She could feel the majik around them, its low hum drifting beneath the spill of the stream and the calls of the night birds. It flowed within the cool breeze and wove through the sway of the grass. It was unwavering in its presence, and as she looked upstream and considered the movement of the water, she knew what must be done.

  When Vhaelin Star had drunk her fill, she walked to the grass to eat, and Jessa let her. She went about setting their camp, finding a spot upon the edge of the grass and gathering rocks for the fire. She found wood and spoke the spell, a small flame smoldering in the dry leaves she had layered beneath her branches. She unsaddled Vhaelin Star and wiped her down, the soft rope she had serving as a halter with a few turns and a simple knot, the filly more than satisfied as she grazed. Jessa added more wood to the fire, shrugged into one of Darry’s cropped jackets, and then sat down upon a blanket where she ate bread with honey and drank cool water from one of her skins.