Silent Kingdom (9 page)

One evening, as I sat beside the fire, struggling to knit as Lyanna had taught me, Rev pulled up a chair and said, “Kyrin’s behavior sure has been starting a lot of rumors lately.”

Lyanna, knitting in the armchair by the fire, frowned at him. “I don’t think we should partake in the town gossip.”

Rev shrugged, straightening his glasses. “No, you are right. I can’t deny it’s fascinating though, the things people dream up. Poor man, I think he only wants to be left alone. You can tell Avrik would like to socialize more. I’m glad you and he are such good friends.” He smiled at me.

I poked myself with one of the knitting needles and started in surprise.
Oh. Knitting
. I dropped my head back down to focus on the task.

Lyanna glanced over at me. “Tired, Elena? You can set that aside and we’ll work on it some more tomorrow.”

Gratefully, I set my unfinished blanket and needles in Lyanna’s basket by the fire. Suppressing a yawn, I strolled back toward my bedroom.

Lyanna lowered her voice as I shut my door, but I left it ajar so I could catch her words. “I can’t believe no one ever taught her… thirteen years old and no clue how to knit or cook… What kind of mother did she have?”

I almost smiled.
A noble lady for a mother, who had servants do the cooking and cleaning and knitting while a private tutor taught me how to sing and ride and dance and play music…
But memories flashed through my head, and with a jolt of pain I saw my mother again in my mind’s eye, watching me as she had on that horrifying night I had accused my father.

Her face was white; her eyes wide with shock. But she did not run to me. She didn’t save me.

She let the king sentence me to death.

~ ~ ~

Once I closed my eyes, I was at home again, the walls on either side of me covered in old paintings of Misroth’s history. Racing down the hallway, I tried not to laugh or tread too loudly. My cousin Gillen was at my side, stifling his own laughter. Ahead was the familiar staircase we sought so often in the summertime: twisting and narrow, it wound a path up one of the old towers to an open rooftop. My foot landed wrong and I nearly tripped, but Gillen caught my arm.

“Wait,” he whispered, and we both hesitated, waiting for the sound of our tutors’ footsteps behind us. When nothing but our own ragged breathing filled our ears, he burst into a chuckle. “They’ll be discussing and arguing that old philosophical stuff for hours. Let’s go!”

Dashing forward once more, we scaled the steps and reached the tower door. Gillen shoved it open and let me pass through first. The warm night air greeted me with its gentle embrace, full of the sound of a tame sea, its waves lapping gently on the shore far below. I gasped when I saw the sky: a rich, silky black spotted with millions of gems that traced patterns in the heavens. The moon hung soft and low in the sky, a sliver almost outshone by all of the stars’ combined light. I couldn’t remember ever seeing the stars look this vivid, not any of the times Gillen and I had snuck away to stay awake long into the night.

“Gillen, look!” I whispered, pointing to one of the constellations. “Vehgar: the Dragon.” We both stared in awe at the cluster of stars that also adorned our kingdom’s flag, a symbol that reminded us of what the constellation represented: strength, beauty, and light.

He beamed. “I told you tonight would be perfect. Eryk and Meeryn should let us out to appreciate nature more.” Puffing out his chest proudly and trying to deepen his fourteen-year-old’s voice, he said, “When I am king, that will change immediately. Every student will be free to study the stars.” His voice cracked on
stars,
and I dissolved into giggles.

Gillen glared at me as I snorted, making him burst into laughter with me. Catching our breath and wiping the tears from our eyes, we lay back on the cool stone roof to better view the sky.

“Do you think they will be mad at us?” I asked after several silent minutes. “For encouraging their debate on theology and stealing off to do what they asked us not to do?”

Gillen smirked. “That’s the joy of being royalty: they can be frustrated, but they can hardly be angry at their future sovereign or his favorite cousin, can they?”

I laughed and shook my head, feeling that Gillen was possibly taking the privileges of his status a bit far and most definitely exaggerating his power. We both knew that as soon as we were caught, we would be reprimanded, but the reward of a late night under the constellations was worth any potential punishment.

“It’s strange to think you will someday be ruling Misroth,” I said.

Gillen grew solemn. Storm clouds seemed to pass over his blue eyes and his mouth tilted in the half-frown he made whenever he was meditative or troubled. “You know I do not like to think of it seriously. I wish I could remain a prince forever. I would rather not bear that responsibility, and I certainly don’t want to think of my father…” He didn’t finish the thought.

Uncle Reylon was strong and healthy, so I knew it would be a long time before we needed to worry about losing him. Still, I imagined myself in Gillen’s place for an instant and felt the anxiety that likely weighed him down every day. The older he became, the more Reylon included him in meetings with the royal councilmen, proceedings before the throne, and dinners with the Leaders of Misroth’s cities that the rest of the royal family did not always attend. Every day Eryk seemed to add more books to the unending pile Gillen had to read and more lessons in conduct and law. It was overwhelming even for me to watch, especially when I was compelled to wait hours each day before Gillen finished his lessons and we could enjoy free time together horseback riding, exploring, swimming, or pretending to be adventurers roaming throughout the palace gardens and grounds.

Footsteps creaked on the stairs and Gillen and I sat up quickly, expecting our tutors. The door swung open and a tall, slender form stepped onto the rooftop. I didn’t immediately recognize the face beneath the hood.

“Mother?” I asked in surprise.

“Eryk and Meeryn said you both were missing, but I knew where to look.” Her voice sounded soft when I expected it to be stern. “You should both be in bed.”

“Yes, Mother,” I said, bowing my head. It was a small inconvenience for me to disappoint and frustrate Meeryn, but now my father would be firm with me tomorrow and that was far more difficult to abide. His disapproving gaze always pierced me to my soul until I was fiercely disappointed I had let him down. He and Mother expected perfect obedience from me as they and Meeryn worked to mold me into a perfect lady. They were proud of their royal heritage and wanted me to honor it in all of my actions. I groaned inwardly. “I’m s—” I began.

“It is quite beautiful out here tonight, isn’t it?” As she lifted her face to the sky, her hood fell back. The starlight sparkled in her deep brown hair as if hundreds of tiny gems had been set in her tresses. Her face relaxed into a smile and she closed her eyes, like she could soak up the beauty of the night and keep it forever. As breathtakingly lovely as she was standing there, wrapped up in her brief moment of joy, I half-believed that she really was absorbing it into herself. It was in that moment that I realized how little I ever saw her smile or lose herself in simple pleasures.

Then the moment was gone and she opened her eyes. Turning to Gillen and me, she drew a deep breath and settled her face back into a regal, impassive gaze. “Goodnight,” she said, bestowing this one word upon us less like a blessing and more like a command.

Wordlessly, we crept back down the steps and toward our bedrooms. But that vision of my mother played in my head long afterward, making me wonder which royal responsibilities had weighed her down and stolen that enraptured look from her face.

With a deep breath, I sat up in my bed in Evren, suddenly awake, and the palace faded away from me. It had all been so vivid, another memory I had revisited in my dreams. Moonlight spilled through my window and onto my bed covers. Everything was quiet and dark, and the house was still.

How is Gillen now? Is he safe, or is my father going to attempt to kill him too?
I’d left him and my aunt Velaire to an uncertain fate. What if they were already dead? I shivered, although it wasn’t cold beneath my blankets.

How could I have left them?
I closed my eyes, as if I could block out the anxiety and guilt washing over me.
But how could I save them? My father would have me killed as soon as he saw me. I can’t ever go back. I’m powerless against him and his guards.

But these thoughts didn’t change how I felt, or how much the aching longing for my cousin and aunt gnawed at my heart. It didn’t change how much my parents’ betrayal filled me with sorrow and anger. And it didn’t change the fact that I was still terrified of being hunted down by my father’s men, even here in Evren.

Catching my breath, I lay back down on my pillow and realized my cheeks were wet. Lifting a hand to my face, I brushed away the tears.

~ ~ ~

The next day after school, I accompanied Avrik back to his and Kyrin’s cabin. When we arrived, he gathered some wood from the chopped pile in his yard, and before I could reach his front door to open it for him, he elbowed the knob and kicked the door open.

“Father won’t be back for a few days,” he panted as he deposited the wood on the hearth. Kneeling down, he piled the logs into the fireplace and set to work starting a fire. “In the past, I’ve stayed with Lyanna and Rev when he was gone on long trips, but I’m old enough now to care for myself.” He paused, pressing his lips into a firm line. “Ever since my mother died, my father has spent more time away hunting and traveling.” He glanced up and noticed my raised eyebrow. “I’ll be fine, Elena.”

Sitting down in the worn armchair near the fireplace, I pulled my journal and pencil from my backpack and scratched out a message. I knelt beside Avrik and held the paper out in front of him.
You can come over for dinner tonight, at least.

He smiled at me in response, lifting his face so that the firelight sparkled in his warm brown eyes. I dropped my gaze back down to my paper and fiddled with its edges.

“I’m glad you are my friend,” he said softly. A frown crept over his face. “I have friends, but sometimes I think that their parents limit the amount of time they can spend with me.” He shrugged. “No one likes to keep company with sorrow. I feel like you are the only person who truly understands, somehow. You don’t shrink away like some others do, and you don’t pity me.”

I bit my lip, studying his face while he stared into the fire. In the six months I’d known him, Avrik had not often talked about the deeper feelings brewing beneath his cheerful exterior, and I was glad he trusted me, even if his words made me ache with sympathy. I reached for my journal, grasping for words to share with him, but stopped myself. No words would ever be more powerful than the presence of a friend. I lay my hand over his and watched the fire with him as dusk fell and the shadows in the house lengthened.

At last, I nudged his arm and he stirred suddenly, like he had been dozing. I glanced at him and he offered me a sheepish smile. “I was thinking,” he said. I wanted to smirk, because I’d never heard Avrik stay silent that long, but I caught myself when I noticed the serious expression still on his countenance. I had learned to recognize that look, even if it rarely flitted across his face. He’d been thinking of his mother all this time.

Avrik pushed to his feet and helped pull me to mine. Shrugging my backpack over his shoulders, he doused the fire and headed for the door. The icy wind felt as sharp as a cold knife cutting into my cheeks when we stepped outside.

Avrik stared at his feet for a minute before he spoke. “Mother was a good listener, like you.” He paused and laughed, looking self-conscious. “I mean, I know you sort of have to listen since you can’t speak. But you don’t have to keep my company, or give me attention when I talk endlessly…” He cleared his throat and stared off over the hills, toward the Vorvinian Mountains. “I think everyone in Evren loved her,” he said softly. “I wish Father were around more.”

You will always have Rev and Lyanna and m
e, I wanted to say, but even if I could have spoken, I was not sure if I would have said the words. Who could tell what the future would bring?

CHAPTER 6

T
he first snowflakes of the season were beginning to fall as Avrik, Bren, and I trudged down the main street of Evren one evening. Most of the citizens were indoors where it was warm, tucked away in one of the houses with windows flickering from firelight and smoke curling from their chimneys. A few businessmen and farmers strode briskly along the street, huffing great steaming breaths in the winter air and rubbing their arms as they went.

Despite my cloak, hood, and mittens, the frigid air made me shiver as well. I tucked my hands inside my pockets and glanced at my friends. Bren was heavily bundled too, but Avrik had his hood pushed back and only his fingerless shooting gloves on his hands. As usual, his bow and quiver were strapped to his back, as if he were preparing to go on the hunt for his dinner, not order a meal at the local inn.

The old inn, constructed from dark, weatherworn logs with a sign reading
Wanderer’s Rest
, waited for us across the street. In the dim evening light, it looked ominous—or perhaps I only found it that way because of what Lyanna had said. I glanced at the swirling, snowy sky and wondered how late it was and if she was expecting me home for dinner yet.

Avrik noted my restless mood and shot me a carefree grin. “It’ll be fun, Elena. Lyanna worries about travelers because she thinks the outsiders are gruff, but she knows nothing about them. Father and I have made plenty of trips; there is nothing to worry about. Besides, we rarely have any visitors anyway. To most, we are not worth the journey, and as close to the border as we are, there are few travelers ever passing through.”

“Come on,” Bren urged, pushing past us to cross the street.

I glanced at Avrik, who smiled reassuringly at me and took my arm. My mouth opened with the thought:
I don't need to be escorted!
But when I tried to speak, no words came out. Frowning, I pried my arm from his grip. He shrugged and scuffed his foot in the dirt before dashing ahead to catch up with Bren, and I followed.

Bren yanked open the heavy inn door and light spilled out from inside. The scents of the fire and hot food—especially baking bread—mingled together in the air and tempted our noses. My stomach growled.

Avrik leaned in to whisper to me. “Like I said, they have some amazing food.” His warm breath tickled my ear.

We sat at a small round table near the corner closest to the door and waited for Selna, the innkeeper, to take our orders. I glanced around at the warm, busy atmosphere of the inn. The main dining area in which we sat had a low ceiling of rough-hewn wood beams. A few support columns were spaced out across the creaking, mud-stained floor. To our right, in the center of the room, a roaring fire blazed in a huge fireplace. Nearly every wall was lined with shelves stocked with canned goods, dried herbs, sacks of flour, and other baking ingredients, as if Selna felt the best way to create a homey feel was to surround her patrons with components of the food they were about to eat.

The room was flooded mostly with local farmers, dressed in faded shirts, patched trousers, and mud-crusted boots. One group was seated in armchairs near the hearth, smoking pipes and chatting about crops. Here and there, at the various round tables scattered across the floor, businessmen ate and talked both business and leisure. One or two families were seated in corners of the room, but for the most part, all of the inn’s customers were men at this time of day. The majority of Evren’s women were at home preparing dinner, and most children went home after school to eat. This place was radically different from the royal dining hall of my upbringing, or even Lyanna and Rev’s cozy kitchen table, and I loved it.

I pulled my journal, pencil, and the little pouch of spending money Rev had given me from my cloak pocket and jiggled it, listening to the coins inside. The concept of paying for anything was foreign to me; the castle had provided me with everything I could have imagined, and servants had attended my every need or desire often before I even realized the needs and wants were there.

Scrawling “tea” across one of my journal pages, I pushed it toward Avrik.

“Not going to try the food?” he said.

Lyanna will want me to eat dinner with them
, I wrote. I gave him a pointed look.

He nodded. When Selna bustled over to our table, he and Bren put in our orders. It only took her a few moments to return, plopping a large mug of steaming tea in front of me.

As the chatter of the crowd enveloped us, Bren and Avrik pointed out various Evren men and women, telling me who they were and what they did. For the most part, I tried to listen, but my mind was restless. I tapped my boot softly on the floor and doodled on my slip of paper.
It’s getting late, and Lyanna expects me home soon,
I thought.

Finally, Selna arrived with two heaping bowls of venison stew and a plate full of fresh bread coated in butter for the boys. For a few minutes, they were too consumed in their food to pay much attention to anyone else in the inn. I inhaled the aroma of mint tea rising from my mug and tried to relax.

Then something caught Bren’s attention. He paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth and nudged Avrik. “Over there,” I heard Bren whisper. He nodded his sandy blond head toward the opposite end of the room, where a staircase led to the second floor and most of the inn’s guestrooms.

Descending the steps were two men in travel-stained scarlet and blue cloaks: the colors of the King’s Royal Guard. One of the men was unfamiliar, but the other I recognized, though I did not know his name. He was one of the men from the dining hall, one who had helped drag me away from my parents when my father accused me of treason. I was sure he would know me immediately.

My mouth ran dry. A jangling noise jolted me back to my table, where Bren and Avrik were studying me curiously. I glanced down and realized I’d dropped my coin pouch on the floor. With a trembling hand, I reached down and clutched it tightly.

The guards must not have seen me yet. Do I leave now? What will Avrik and Bren think? How can I tell them I need to leave? They’ll ask questions, want answers…

I swallowed and stared at the table, determined not to meet the boys’ gazes and give away my fear.

Why would royal guards travel to Evren? Are they looking for me? Have they asked around—will they talk to Lyanna and Rev?
Panic screamed in my head; the questions were coming so quickly they were tumbling over each other, swirling in a confused mass in my brain.

Avrik’s voice pierced through my thoughts. “Are you all right?” His dark eyes glinted in the firelight.

If Avrik and Bren realized the reason why I was upset…well, I didn’t want to think about the trouble it could cause.

Grabbing my pencil, I scribbled frantically.
I don’t feel well.

Avrik’s brow knotted. “Bren, we have to take Elena home.”

Bren’s face fell, but he forced a smile and nodded. He dropped a few coins on the table to pay for his meal, and Avrik did the same.

Without a word, the boys stood and yanked on their cloaks. I fumbled with mine, realizing my fingers were quivering too violently to fasten it under my chin properly. The world seemed to be pulling away from me and swaying like a ship’s deck all at once. Inwardly hating myself for my fear, I grasped for the table to catch my balance, but my hand landed clumsily in my mug of tea instead. Recoiling, I knocked the mug over, splashing its contents across the table. The mug rolled over the edge of the table and shattered on the floor, its broken shards mixing with the widening puddle of tea.

I was sure every eye on the inn was on me.

Wide-eyed, Avrik was at my side in an instant, trying to steady my trembling body with a reassuring hand on my back. I thanked the Life-Giver that the guards were behind me and could not see my face.

“What is this?” Selna strode to our table and studied our faces. “Is something wrong?”

“She’s ill,” Bren said, nodding to me.

“Oh, Elena, your face is as pale as the snow outside,” Selna gasped. “Boys, go fetch Lyanna and Rev and I’ll set her up in a cozy room where she can relax.”

No, don’t leave me here!
I wanted to cry out, to beg them not to leave me, but Avrik and Bren bolted out the door instantly and Selna tugged gently on my arm.

“Come, I’ll make you comfortable and send for the Healer.”

Shaking my head, I tried to fight against her grip, tried to pull away and chase after the boys before the guards saw me, tried to—

It was too late.

The guard’s boots thudded dully on the floorboards as he approached. I recognized the shock of brown, curly hair and the deep blue eyes: it was the guard from the palace. “What seems to be the problem?” he inquired. He glanced at Selna before dropping his gaze to my face. I refused to meet his look, staring hard at the fireplace on the far wall, as if I could find sanctuary somewhere amidst the flames.

I tensed, waiting for the inevitable. Would he reveal my identity to Selna and pretend the king and queen missed my presence, or would he accuse me like a wanted criminal and drag me away?

“The girl is ill, sir,” Selna said, bowing her head in respect. “I appreciate your concern, but there is no danger in my humble inn.”

She pulled me away, leading me past the second guard, who gave me an uninterested glance. There was no glint of recognition in his expression, but that wasn’t comforting to me, not when I knew his companion remembered me.

At the top of the stairs was a hallway lined with flickering candles set in sconces and several closed doors leading to guest rooms. Selna opened one of the doors on the right and ushered me into a small bedroom. There was a small window set in the far wall, its pale green curtains tightly drawn against the night. On the left was a small bed and nightstand, and on the right was a fireplace.

Selna removed my boots and cloak and ensured I was settled in the bed before she turned to start a fire in the hearth. “We’ll find the Healer for you, as soon as possible,” she murmured as she exited the room. She closed the door softly behind her.

I sat up in bed, throwing the covers off and springing onto the floor. The floorboards were cold under my bare feet as I fumbled for my stockings and boots. Pulling them on, I snatched my cloak from where Selna had tossed it over the foot of the bed and wrapped it around my shoulders. My fingers still trembled slightly as I tied it around my neck, but this time determination fired through my veins and helped keep my hands steady.

Stumbling toward the window, I tore open the curtains. The view from the second story offered a glimpse of a dark alleyway behind the inn. Moonlight glistened off the dusting of snow coating the earth while more snowflakes drifted down from the fluffy grey clouds concealing the stars. I shoved open the window and leaned out, watching my breath being carried away on the cold breeze.

Don’t hesitate out of fear now,
I prodded myself.
There’s no time to waste. The palace guard recognized you. This room is your prison cell; he will find you here.

Memories of climbing down the palace’s stone walls flitted through my mind as I swung my leg over the windowsill, and I prayed this venture would not end as badly as my last. I peered down to search the bricks for hand and footholds. The air nipped at my fingers and made them numb, but I didn’t dare fish the mittens from my pockets and try to climb in those. I grasped at a chipped brick with my left hand and shoved my boot into a gap in the wall before drawing a deep breath and swinging out the window. My arms shook and I nearly slipped as I struggled to grasp the wall with my right hand and plant my right foot. Once I was safely out, I scrambled wildly down the wall, sliding on patches of ice and missing most of my intended holds until I fell the last several feet and landed on my back in the snow.

My breath knocked from my lungs, I lay staring up at the sky for several moments while my heart throbbed in my ears. The world spun and flecks of snow pelted my face and melted in my eyes, blurring my vision.
Get up, get up. Run.
With a shuddering gasp, I finally inhaled some air and leapt to my feet.

“So it is you, Princess Halia.” The grating voice slammed into my ears and made me spin on my heel. The king’s guard, the one who had recognized me, was standing behind me in the alleyway, his cloak rustling around his heavy boots. Snowflakes melted on the scarlet and blue hood pulled so low that only his dark beard and sneering lips were visible. “At first I thought you must be a ghost, to be alive after my captain executed you. And yet…here you are, trapped again. Did you truly think you could evade His Majesty this easily?” Silver light glinted off the sword hilt at his side.

I turned and bolted, my boots slipping on ice and my heart feeling like it was ten feet ahead of the rest of my body. But I was no match for the speed and strength of a seasoned guard. In a few swift strides he was upon me, grasping my arm and wrenching me back. He slammed me down to the earth, pinning me with his arms and knees as I flailed and pulled against him.

When I stared up at him, his piercing blue eyes met mine. “Who have you told about the king?” he snarled.

Gasping, I shook my head, my hair tumbling about my face. Cold snow bit into my back and melted against my neck until it slithered beneath my cloak.

He slammed me back down into the snow and dug his knee into my chest. “
Who?
”

I ground my teeth together and struggled for air. Moving my lips, I mouthed the words “no one.”

In one smooth motion, the guard pressed a dagger against my throat. “I’ll give you a final chance to speak, you vile traitor,” he hissed. “Child or not, you are old enough to face the consequences of your treasonous actions.”

The dagger’s edge nicked my skin and warm blood trickled from the wound, but I couldn’t fight back, couldn’t flee, and couldn’t speak.

No one, no one, no one! I cannot speak!
I wanted to scream, but I knew the words wouldn’t change my fate. He would kill me anyway, regardless of what I said. He might kill me faster if I had a confession for him, rather than drawing out the kill in a painful interrogation process.