Forgotten Embers Read online

  “I thought it best not to move her,” said the deep voice.

  Koen had let go of my arm and was hastening down the remaining steps. “Very wise, Sire,” he said.

  I had only ever seen King Ghalad from afar, caught glimpses of his lithe form traversing a castle balcony or riding a horse across the bridge to the west gate. Those fleeting impressions gave me an inkling of him that didn’t prepare me for the full onslaught of this man.

  Black hair swept around a strong face with a firm chin and flashing dark eyes. His bronze skin stretched over hardened cords of muscle in his neck and contrasted with the white cotton shirt he wore under an intricately woven vest. He was large and imposing, like a mountain cat watching me from the entrance to its lair.

  A woman who was sprawled awkwardly on the cobblestones rested her head in his lap. Her blonde hair spilled across his baggy trousers and blended with the gold thread sparkling on his sandals.

  I’d met Lady Serrin only once, during a visit to the southern valleys with my father when I was twelve and Serrin was thirteen. She was as small and delicate now as she was then, her dress just as fine, an elegant lavender gown whose full skirts now spilled around her like beans from a broken vase. I remembered scoffing at the prissy needlework she’d tried to teach me back then, and my shock that she lacked combat training. Now her pale skin was chalky and peaked, and tears streamed from her pinched eyes.

  I realized the crowd was still hovering around, closing back in. I waved my crutch threateningly at them. “What are you all standing there gawking for?” I roared in my best parade voice. “You heard the man. Away with you! The proper healers are here now!”

  I caught a glimpse of Koen, briefly closing his eyes in that long-suffering look of his.

  But my methods worked. The crowd began to leave in earnest, for all they glared and furrowed their brows at me. Zolin remained to flutter his hands and dance around us with worry.

  “That wasn’t very nice, Alswyn,” Koen said without looking up.

  I used my crutch to squat awkwardly beside him. “Nice won’t get things done.”

  “Your mother used to say that.” Serrin’s voice was high and thin, breathless with pain. I gave her a sharp look, but she had her eyes closed and didn’t notice.

  “May I ask where you are hurt, my lady?” Koen asked.

  “My arm.” She winced.

  Koen began gently probing her wrist. “You’ve been seeing Mistress Izel since your arrival in Eagle Canyon, am I right, my lady?”

  “Yes.” Her voice came in breathless spurts. “Three months ago.”

  Koen frowned. “Alswyn, could you find the lady something for her pain?”

  I felt like a simpleton. I should have been doing that already. My cheeks colored as King Ghalad’s eyes moved to me. I scrambled to unfold Koen’s satchel.

  “She’s been having—” the king hesitated. “Dizziness. It often comes on suddenly, catching her unawares.”

  I spread the satchel out flat again, releasing the smell of dried herbs and earthy leather. I began searching through the multitude of pockets, pulling out vial after vial, unstopping the lid to sniff the contents, then putting it back again. I couldn’t find the pain remedy, and my hands were trembling worse than before.

  “Forgive me, my liege,” Koen said, “but it could simply be nerves over the wedding, making it difficult for her to sleep.”

  King Ghalad frowned, revealing a dimple on one cheek. “Mistress Izel has ruled out that possibility, along with many others. In spite of her efforts, the dizziness simply gets worse.”

  “Well, you were lucky this time, my lady,” Koen said. “Nothing is broken, though that wrist has a nasty sprain I’ll need to wrap.”

  “Thank the skies,” King Ghalad mumbled.

  As Koen reached for a roll of bandaging, he noticed I was still rummaging through the medicine kit. He gave me a look that clearly communicated, What is wrong with you? and said, “Left side, upper right pocket.”

  I bent my head lower to hide my red face and grabbed the vial of liquid from the indicated pocket. It smelled of boswellia resin and chile. Soon, I wouldn’t be the only one with a red face.

  “One swallow,” I said as I handed the vial to King Ghalad.

  He hesitated, studying me with an intensity that made me squirm, then tipped the vial to Serrin’s lips. She swallowed with a grimace and started coughing.

  “What’s in that?” King Ghalad asked, eyeing the vial suspiciously.

  I took it back and pressed the cork in. “Herbs to ease her pain,” I said as matter-of-factly as I could.

  Koen finished wrapping the wrist. “The chile burns at first. It will pass, and then she should feel better.”

  “Can we move her now?” King Ghalad asked.

  “Yes. You can call some guards to carry her.”

  “I’ll do it.” King Ghalad gently moved Serrin’s head onto the cobblestones, then stood in a single fluid motion and gathered her in his arms as if she weighed no more than a piece of dried wood. “We’ll take her to her room. What do you need, Journeymaster?

  “Hot water and a brewing pot.”

  “Certainly. Zolin, see to it.”

  “Yes, my liege.” The steward took off up the steps before the king as though glad to be given a task.

  I gathered up Koen’s medicine satchel, and he helped me stand. We followed King Ghalad up the stone steps to the balcony and a door that led past the dining hall to the main hall. Servants stopped and stared when they thought King Ghalad wasn’t looking.

  My hopes that the Lady Serrin’s quarters were on this level were dashed when King Ghalad led us to a wide staircase with ornately carved stone banisters flanked by eagle’s heads. It seemed to curve up forever to the very top of the castle, five tall stories above.

  Mounting the stairs, King Ghalad’s steps remained sure and steady, a slight breathlessness the only indication that his exertions were taking their toll. “Her room is on the top floor.”

  Of course it was.

  “I can walk,” Serrin protested weakly.

  “I think not, my lady,” he replied firmly. “I won’t risk another fall.”

  Koen noticed my hesitation at the bottom of the steps. “Come on,” he said with an encouraging smile. “I’ll help you.”

  THREE

  The climb to the third floor was only slightly less difficult with Koen’s support on my right side. I felt envious of Serrin taking her ease in the king’s arms, but I couldn’t imagine Koen trying to carry me, nor did I want him to try.

  As we reached Serrin’s chambers, several women crested the servant’s stairs with a copper kettle, small clay pots, armfuls of towels, and a pitcher. They gave curtsies to the king, then followed us past the sitting room and into Serrin’s bedchamber.

  Bright tapestries hung on the brick walls. The furniture exhibited delicate curves and rich fabrics. Tall doors opened out onto a balcony overlooking the south end of Eagle Canyon, where the setting sun spread pink and orange across the sky. A small fire burned in the grate of the fireplace, keeping the room unduly warm and setting the white rock around the fireplace sparkling. A mirror above the mantle reflected an oblong shape I knew all too well. A T’yathan wedding box squatted in the center of the mantle.

  When the wedding was announced—and with it the promise of peace between T’yatha and Quahtl—Master Oran asked me to make a T’yathan wedding box that the sanctuary could present to the bride. Although I lacked the wood magic of Ragnell, my father had taught me well, and Master Oran knew my skill. He wanted me to present the box to Lady Serrin in person, but I refused. It was weeks before Koen could even convince me to set foot outside the sanctuary in daylight. Now here I was, helping to heal one of the very people I had tried so hard to avoid.

  Koen noticed me looking at the box. He gave me a wan smile. “Your finest work,” he whispered. “I wish you’d seen Lady Serrin’s face when she opened it!” Koen had been with the delegation delivering the box, and he�
��d already described her reaction to me several times. His praise only embarrassed me.

  Turning away from the box, I watched King Ghalad lay Serrin gently on her bed. Its four posts supported a frilly canopy that rustled in the breeze from the open balcony. Serrin’s face had grown paler, and I immediately repented of my envy for the manner in which she’d arrived in her room.

  Koen unrolled his medicine satchel on the end of the bed, plucked out a packet of dried valerian root, and handed it to me. I took one of the clay pots the serving women had left on the table next to the bed and crushed some of the valerian root with a pestle from Koen’s satchel.

  “Are you still feeling dizzy, my lady?” Koen asked.

  Serrin’s eyes were shut tight. “It’s always worse when I lay down, but it will soon pass.”

  Koen placed a hand on her forehead and felt the pulse on her good wrist. “I want you to keep to your bed until we discover the cause of these dizzy spells.”

  King Ghalad paced to the balcony doors and back. Every time he looked in my direction, I quickly averted my eyes before he caught me watching him. He put on a good act, but I knew there was no way he could actually love Serrin, a T’yatha and his sworn enemy.

  His father had been a tyrant, conquering first Koen’s people in the west, then muscling his way toward the T’yathan mines in the north. My people proved a match for his army, however, and stopped his advance for nearly a decade.

  When the old Eagle King died, Ghalad took over the throne. Things changed immediately. He was young, only a few years older than me, but he seemed more cunning than his father, proposing a T’yathan marriage and a peace treaty that I was convinced would end in betrayal. Surely King Ghalad had only proposed peace as a way to slip under T’yatha’s guard. I still couldn’t believe my people had fallen for it.

  The servants had stoked the fire and hung the kettle over it. As I finished grinding the valerian, I grabbed a cloth to protect my hands and hobbled to the fireplace, reaching for the kettle’s handle. My eyes fell on the wedding box. I froze.

  It had taken me nearly a month to carve the intricate decorations on all four sides and another two weeks to complete the lid. The box was about half a foot long and a hand span tall. I had chosen to carve the traditional blessing tree in the old style—leaves sprinkling the topmost branches, with some branches that spread out to the side, twisting and weaving together like a tapestry. The tree’s roots curved deep into the soil as if clutching it in a tight fist.

  I didn’t know why I worked so hard on a gift to a virtual stranger. Maybe it was because Serrin was a connection to my homeland, however tenuous. Or maybe it was because I wanted to prove to my people that they were wrong to thrust me away, that I was not as worthless as they thought.

  For whatever reason, I was in agreement with Koen that the box was the finest thing I had ever carved. It was familiar, like a lost friend, but there was one thing about it that I didn’t recognize. Per tradition, once I completed the box, I’d wrapped it in cloth so that no one would see it until the bride herself opened the wrapping. The last time I had seen the box, the wood was a natural color. It glowed under a simple varnish my father taught me to make. But now gaudy paint turned the leaves on the tree a sickly green, the trunk a deep midnight blue that was almost black. My insides went cold.

  Hesitantly, I touched the dark paint on the lid. It was warm. I flaked off a tiny bit and brought it to my lips. A metallic taste. I spat it out.

  “Alswyn?” Koen was looking at me with a puzzled expression. He was close enough to see the paint on the box, yet he didn’t seem surprised by it. The paint must have been there when Serrin opened the gift.

  I quickly grabbed the kettle and nearly spilled its contents. “Sorry!” I whispered as I limped back to the clay pot beside Serrin’s bed.

  His expression melted into a contrite smile. “I should be the one apologizing for dragging you up here,” he whispered back. “I know this is hard for you. Would you ... after you give Lady Serrin the valerian, could you examine her? Look for anything unusual.”

  “What do you mean, unusual?”

  Koen squirmed uncomfortably. He lowered his voice to the barest thread of sound. I had to strain to make out his words. “Len said he saw a demon in the kitchens. What if there is a follower of Dera here, making trouble? If so, he must be discovered and put to death before the peace treaty is ruined.”

  It took all my will power not to glance back at the wedding box. I’d already found something unusual.

  “I’m going to speak with the king for a moment in private,” Koen continued, “try to ease his mind a little.”

  I nodded. Koen motioned for the king to follow him into the sitting room. King Ghalad’s eyes found Serrin, then shifted to me. Embarrassed that he had caught me watching, I quickly turned away and poured water from the kettle into the clay pot to steep the valerian root. The door closed behind them with a soft snick.

  I tried not to look at the wedding box as I hung the kettle back over the fire.

  “Thank you.” Serrin’s voice was soft. “The Elarans said you made that for me.”

  I checked on the potency of the tea without looking at her. “They thought it would help to have something familiar in a strange land.”

  “It was very thoughtful.”

  “Master Oran, the Abbot of the sanctuary, is a thoughtful man. He asked me to do it.”

  I strained the tea into a clean pot. Serrin eyed it doubtfully. “Will this be as awful as that first medicine?”

  “Medicine is supposed to be awful. Otherwise, it doesn’t do any good.” I could almost hear Koen chiding me as Serrin’s eyes widened. I sighed deeply. “I could add some agave to sweeten it, if you’d like.”

  She smiled and nestled into the pillows behind her head. “How very kind.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes as I searched in Koen’s bag for the bottle of agave. “Take the lumps with the leaven,” my mother used to say. “That’s what makes you stronger.” But I didn’t quote my mother’s mottos at Serrin; I just added the agave and helped her into a sitting position so she could drink.

  The valerian was quick to take effect, and soon Serrin breathed deeply, her eyes closed peacefully this time. Koen wanted an examination, but I was certain I’d already discovered the source of her dizzy spells.

  I limped back to the fireplace and took down the wedding box with trembling hands. It was light. Hesitantly, I opened the lid. The compartments inside were empty. Glancing at Serrin sleeping quietly on the bed, I wondered why she hadn’t yet filled it with trinkets like a lock of hair, a ring, or maybe one of her needlepoints. Traditionally, the bride should present her husband with the box on their wedding night as a representation of giving herself to him. But I was glad the box was empty. This way, I wouldn’t feel so guilty about destroying it.

  I tried to stuff the box inside my robes, but it was too big; its angular shape gave away its hiding place. If Koen found me with the box, there would be questions—questions I would rather avoid. None of the Elarans had seen the finished wedding box before Serrin opened it. Once Koen knew the paint had magical ashes in it, he and everyone else would assume that I put them there. I would be denounced, turned out of the sanctuary, and perhaps even put on trial again—maybe with a death sentence this time. But all these thoughts paled next to the image of Koen’s face full of horror and disappointment.

  King Ghalad’s voice seemed to get louder in the sitting room, and my heart raced. I couldn’t leave the box to further poison Serrin, and I couldn’t smuggle it out of the castle without somebody seeing it. I noticed the balcony doors, still open to admit the breezes from outside. It was getting darker now, the twilight fading into night.

  Placing my crutch and wooden leg carefully to keep silent, I moved across the room to the balcony and got ready to throw the box. My heart jumped into my throat when I heard the handle of the door to the sitting room turn. Bunching my muscles and leaning into my crutch, I threw the wedding box i
n a high arc up and over the banister and jerked around to face the door, nearly losing my balance.

  But Koen hadn’t seen. His head was turned as he whispered to someone, probably King Ghalad, in the sitting room. He finished and came into the room. His eyes took in Serrin sleeping peacefully, then swept the room until he found me standing awkwardly by the balcony doors. He beckoned, and I hobbled closer.

  “I told the king that the lady’s illness is probably due to malnutrition, but I’m not sure he believed me. Did you find anything?”

  I swallowed hard and hoped my voice wouldn’t come out as wobbly as I felt. “No. I ... didn’t notice anything unusual.” The lie felt bitter on my tongue. I hadn’t lied a single time since my exile, not even when Master Oran had directly asked me why I was banished. I almost winced as I expected Koen to catch me in the fib, but if he sensed that I was lying, he didn’t show it.

  He pursed his lips and stared at Serrin, as though trying to pluck the truth from her mind with sheer willpower. Finally, he turned to his satchel.

  “I’ll make a vertigo tonic for her to drink when she wakes,” he whispered. “Then we’ll come back in the morning to check on her.”

  I concentrated on stilling the frantic beating of my heart as I watched him go through the pockets of the medicine satchel. His face grew more and more puzzled.

  “I must have forgotten to refill my coriander packet. The gooseberry’s empty too. But I’m sure they’ll have both in the kitchen storerooms.”

  “Can’t you just grow them with Elara’s magic?”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Nobody can conjure plants out of thin air. Even if they could, I’m not very good at magic yet.” He hesitated, eyeing my crutch. “I’ll run and fetch the herbs. Can you stay here until I get back?”

  “Of course.”

  As soon as he was gone, I limped out onto the balcony and peered over the edge. I couldn’t see the wedding box. It was too dark. One of the city streets curved past the pinnacle only half a furlong from where the box might have landed. I needed to get down there and retrieve it before some unsuspecting fool discovered it.