Chapter Eight
Before dawn broke the next day, we gathered. The moon sunk below the horizon, and the sky remained grey. I huddled in my shawl as we waited along a barren cliff top. The ocean thundered far below, and the wind howled a lament. Beside me, Sabine stood still, her gaze focused on the dais at the cliff’s edge, where two blocks sat, a half circle carved out of each of them. I tried not to think what would rest in those blocks.
We did not speak, words seemed inappropriate. A streak of orange lit the sky as guards led the prisoners out. A massive man, the top portion of his face covered in a mask, mounted the dais. He hefted an axe larger than my head, and I shivered at the sight.
Count Braun and Lady Braun parted the crowd, heads held high, as if they went to take their thrones and not to lose their heads. Those gathered were silent as death, no shouts for blood, no one cried out in despair. I learned later that Count Braun’s wife had passed and his sons had all died in the war. Lady Braun was all he had left, and she would follow him into the afterlife.
They took the dais, and guards forced them to their knees. Count Braun looked across the crowd, and our eyes met. Hate and vengeance spilled out from his glare. I wept.
I am sorry.
I never wanted their blood on my hands. I wanted to save the princess from a cruel fate.
If I had thought through the repercussions, perhaps I could have spared all their lives, but it was too late now.
Guards locked shackles on their wrists to iron rings at the base of the blocks, keeping them bent over. The executioner stepped up to Count Braun. The count closed his hands into fists and closed his eyes. He would not beg; he would die with dignity. The executioner pulled back the axe, his muscles straining. I closed my eyes, unable to watch it. The axe fell with a thud, and then another and another. I wept all the harder. I would have thought it would be a clean cut, but it was not so. Count Braun had been a large man, and it took several swings of the axe before the executioner finished.
Lady Braun held decorum nearly until the end. She closed her eyes, stoic. The executioner walked towards her, leaving the decapitated body of her father behind. She trembled as he neared, and though I wished I could do something to save her, I knew I could not. The executioner stopped behind her, stance set, and then she cried out.
“Have mercy! I was only being a dutiful daughter!” She searched the crowd and found Sabine and I. “Princess, we were friends, confidantes. Believe me when I say I never meant to hurt you.”
Sabine did not turn away; she watched without a word. The executioner swung backwards, and I closed my eyes.
“Plea—” Her pleas were cut off by the thud of the axe. Her death came swiftly, just two strikes of the axe.
I watched them gather the headless bodies, forcing myself to face what my meddling had done. They tossed them over the cliff, into the sea’s embrace. I said a prayer to the Goddess and hoped she would take mercy on them.
Who will have mercy on me?
I joined Sabine back in chambers afterwards for a breakfast neither of us had a stomach for. Sabine set down her untouched cup of tea and said, “Lady Maea, there’s an opening in my attendants. Lady Braun—” Her voice caught. “Lady Braun was one of my ladies-in-waiting. I was wondering if you’d be willing to take the position.”
The proposition caught me off guard. Why me? I am of no consequence. I am not certain I am of any noble lineage. I did not feel I should; the reason there was a position available was because I had caused her death.
“Why me?” I asked instead.
Princess Sabine really smiled then. “You saved my life. I cannot think of anyone better to serve me.”
My thoughts were still full of blood and betrayal; it warmed me little to the posting. However, I did feel a kinship to Sabine, one I could not deny. We were two of a kind, and perhaps together we could improve our lot.
“Then I will agree, on one condition.”
Princess Sabine’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“You must call me Maea.”
She relaxed her shoulders, and another smile hovered on her lips. “Then you must call me Sabine.”
“We have reached an agreement, and it would be my honor to attend upon you.”
Thus started my career as Sabine’s lady-in-waiting.
My appointment with Adair arrived. Johai had shared only a handful of words with me over the preceding week. Damara assured me he would come around, but I was certain I had crossed an invisible line. I thought his actions towards me were frigid before, but they were nothing compared to now. I felt no more certain than before as to the nature of Johai’s feelings for me. Further contemplation on the matter proved to increase the throbbing pain in my head. More than ever, I was desperate for answers. I feared if I waited much longer, I would never be whole again.
Damara joined me because Johai refused, and I was glad to be free of his stony presence. Hilliard also accompanied us; he was never far away, for which I was grateful. A servant in royal livery greeted us at the door to Adair’s suite before we had even the chance to knock. He showed us to a generously sized salon covered in the blue and silver of House Raleban, the longtime ruling House. Adair awaited us, and as we entered, he lounged on a couch, wearing a loose white shirt and black jerkin.
He jumped to his feet to greet us. “Your grace, Lady Maea, welcome, welcome.” He swept his arm as he bowed to us. “Thank you for coming.”
We both bowed, and he laughed. “No need for such formality; you are in my home. Come, sit, relax; no need to get down to business immediately.”
We spread about the salon, and a servant showed Hilliard to the servants’ chambers to wait. Adair engaged Damara in conversation.
She laughed and flirted while I prepared my mind, clearing it of all thoughts and concerns, a difficult task when a million questions buzzed through my brain. I managed to push them back. These thoughts would only cloud my reading. I took deep even breaths, and I let Adair and Damara’s conversation wash over me. This might be my only chance, not only to prove myself, but also to get the answers I desperately craved.
“Now to the purpose of our visit, Lady Maea, how does one receive a reading?” Adair said, interrupting my thoughts.
My words dried up in my throat. I cleared my throat into a handkerchief whilst turning my head. “First, I need to know what it is that troubles you, or if there is anything you wish to know.”
“See what you will, diviner,” he said.
My hand found my necklace. I let its pressure and heat take my anxiety away. Though I suspected its true intent, it did work to ease my nervousness.
“Very well, have your servants build a large fire in a place you can recline on the floor.” I paused, considering my next instruction, under normal circumstances the patron and I would be alone as to keep distraction at bay, but I was not certain I trusted Adair alone. However, my desire to prove my abilities to him and the need to be free to talk overrode my concerns. “And we will need to be isolated,” I added.
His mouth turned up at the corner. He turned to a servant whom I had not seen materialize beside him. “Do as the lady requests in my chamber.”
The servant bowed and went to do his master’s bidding without so much as a tilt of his eyebrow. I wondered if he often made such preparations for him and other women. My nerves threatened to overwhelm me. Do not think of it as such, I scolded myself. You are a diviner, not some cheap harlot. Damara touched my arm, and I glanced up at her.
“Are you well?” she asked.
I nodded, swallowing a lump in my throat.
“It is not proper decorum to let you be alone in his chamber, unmarried…”
An image of Adair and the woman from the concert flashed through my mind. I blushed. Did Damara also know of Adair’s wanton ways?
“I am a diviner, and he is my patron, nothing unseemly will pass between us.” It insulted me that she could insinuate such a thing of me, even though I had suspected the same things. I needed her
cooperation, so I added, “Besides, you will be on the other side of the door.” I forced a smile to reassure her, and she seemed eased.
“Everything has been readied to your specifications,” the servant said, emerging from the hall I assumed led to Adair’s bedchamber.
Adair stood and offered his arm for me to link arms with him. I declined with a slight nod of my head. It would not be a good start to let him lead me into his bedchamber with our bodies pressed close together.
He led the way and opened the door for me to enter. I distracted myself by admiring his bedding, a deep royal blue like his house colors.
Silver tassels pulled back large velvet curtains, and across from the bed, a large stone fireplace had been built up to warm the large room.
I walked over to the fire and removed a satchel at my wrist. I sprinkled a mixture of calming herbs, lavender, chamomile, and a powder made from a certain mushroom onto the flames. Johai had given them to me that morning. He had said nothing as he handed them to me. How he came to possess this special combination of herbs, I was not sure, but I was certain it had something to do with his unfinished training with the Magiker. I hope Adair can clarify everything for me. My hands shook. What if I had misjudged Adair and he did do what I feared?
I took a deep breath, remembering long hours of practice, perfecting the craft of dream-reading. I had never been so nervous performing one before. It may have been the threat of the prince’s intentions for me. A mat lay upon the ground before the fire.
“Are you going to look at me during this process?” he teased.
I hunched my shoulders together. “You should lie down.” I stoked the ashes, filling the room with a pungent smoke.
“It would be easy for you to slip me poison or slit my throat when I am so vulnerable,” he said.
I turned to him, my back facing the fire, my shadow cast over him, and his smirk turned down. “I would not betray the sacred trust between diviner and patron. What I see, I repeat for your ears only, and I keep secrets unto the grave.” I hoped it would be enough to squelch any thoughts he had otherwise about our rendezvous.
“A worthy oath,” he remarked as he lay with his head propped on his bent elbow.
The smoke filled the room, his eyes grew heavy, his head bobbed, and his movements were languid. I did not reply. The herbs were taking effect. I knelt beside him on the stone floor.
“Lie down flat on your back, and close your eyes.”
He did as I directed, hands folded over his chest. His breathing came shallow and even, and my hands hovered above his head, where I would rest my palms and begin the reading. My hands quivered, and I could not bridge the distance. What if I collapse? What if I only see the same images?
He opened his eyes, and the sapphire depths trapped me. He wrapped his hands around mine. “You have my permission to touch me, Maea.”
I smiled at the jest and placed one hand to each of his temples. Let me see true. He closed his heavy-lidded eyes, and his mouth slackened in a trance sleep. In this state, I could resonate with him, share his dreams, and interpret them. I closed my eyes, and I focused on my hands’ pressure along his hairline, the soft even breaths that caressed the skin of my inner wrist.
Adair’s heart hammered, and I steadied my breathing and matched his pace. The trance connected us, in sync in time.
A white and gray gull swooped through the air, keening as it cut through the blue sky. The scene expanded: a boy with blue eyes like gleaming sapphires and chestnut hair ran along the sandy shore after it.
A second boy, no more than a year or two his senior, auburn locks pulled back and away from his face, raced him and reached towards the endless blue sky with a look of unadulterated joy on his young features. Waves lapped at their feet, cresting cool and clear on the summer day. A third boy, hair yellow as ripe wheat, walked behind them, trailing a stick in the sand. He, too, shared the sapphire eyes of the first boy.
The first two boys abandoned their chase of the gull and stopped to examine a crab scuttling along the rocks jutting into the waves. They poked at it, grinning with satisfaction as it skittered to escape them. It disappeared into a crevice within the rocks, and the boys chased after it, probing the crevice.
Unseen to them, a behemoth ship, crimson sails unfurled in the sun, drew ever closer. Soldiers bearing the royal crest stormed the beach. They grabbed the chestnut-haired boy and fled with him as the ships drew upon the shore. The remaining boys chased after them, but the soldiers ignored them and left them behind. The auburn-haired boy managed to escape before the ships landed, but the blond fell, and the enemy swarmed the beach and overtook him.
I wanted to go back and try to save the boy, but the vision continued to flow like a river, and I could not change its course.
A young Adair, perhaps twelve years old, paced a palace corridor. The boy on the beach had grown, and the sharpness of adolescence gave a hard edge to his expression.
King Dallin, less grey and his face less careworn, stepped out from a chamber flanking the hall. Men spilled out after him. I recognized Duke Magdale and several other influential men at court. I realized there had been a meeting, an important one judging from the king’s frown. Adair jumped to attention. King Dallin excused his advisors and attempted to stroll away; Adair chased after his uncle.
“Uncle!” he cried.
The king turned and glowered at him. “Adair, what are you doing here?”
“What have you decided, Uncle?” He nodded towards the departing men.
“We have chosen peace for the realm; we are agreeing to the Neaux peace treaty. Sarelle will be going to Neaux, and the third princess of Neaux will be coming to Danhad.”
“Uncle, you can’t!”
“Boy, you forget your place!”
Adair shrank back as if struck, but a fire lit his eyes, hatred.
“You’re sending your only daughter to the same people who murdered my father and raped my mother!”
“They knew what sacrifices were necessary to keep you safe. They knew their place, and you’d best learn it as well.”
He hung his head low, but none of the fire was diminished as he murmured, “Yes, Uncle.”
The scene faded, and I ascended a curving flight of stairs. Narrow windows revealed strips of light. My footsteps reverberated off the curving stone walls.
My heart pounded in my chest; I should not be here. It is forbidden.
I glanced over my shoulder and continued. At the top of the stairs, a long hall ended at a wooden door. A barred window cut into the door revealed a glimpse of the room beyond. I swallowed hard and took a few steps. A pale hand reached out between the bars, and I turned and ran.
Adair’s finger brushed my hair from my face. I blinked at him, losing the fog around my mind. The connection we shared had been undone. I sat back on my haunches and regarded him while he regained a cross-legged position on the floor.
“You saw as I did. Didn’t you?”
I nodded. It was improper to ask him about what I had seen, they were his memories, but I could not deny my curiosity.
His eyes appeared pinched as he rested his elbows on his knees and his head in upturned hands. “Those are memories I choose not to dwell on. How is it that you extracted them from me?” He looked up at me, and I saw a myriad of emotions—foremost fear. He feared me, he feared what I had seen, and I suspected he feared what I could see.
“I saw what I could see,” I replied.
He chuckled without humor. “Indeed… I would ask that you do not misjudge my uncle after seeing that… It was a difficult decision he made back then.”
“What happens here stays between us.”
“I am glad for it.” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. His hands lurched forward and gathered mine in his own. “You are truly a diviner. I thought it another of Damara’s ploys, but you really are.”
There is a special bond between diviner and patron. That I could remember of my training; I often felt a closeness to t
hose on whom I performed readings. I peered into their souls, and they revealed their true hearts to me. In reading Adair’s dreams, I realized there was more to him than a womanizer, much more. I had seen deep pain there, old scars that perhaps he tried to hang up, and in pitying him, I was willing to trust him.
“Yes, I am. And now that I have proven myself, I would ask of you a boon.”
“Oh?”
“I believe I have been led to you for a purpose. There are few I can trust, and I hope I may number you among those few.”
“Maea, what are you talking about?”
Tears stung my eyes, and I felt a fool. “Someone has taken away my memories, and that same person made sure I could not remember him when he did so.”
“Johai…”
My heart thudded in my chest. My guesses had been correct. “You knew about it?”
He shook his head. “I know he is thick with Damara, and she’s been quiet for the past few years. I knew she was up to something. As for Johai, he is the only one I know who could wield magic to take away a person’s past.”
“Can you help me? I must find out what they are plotting.”
“It will be difficult. Damara has many spies and ears everywhere. Nowhere is safe from her plotting.” He stood and paced the room. “Come with me tomorrow for a ride outside the palace. Away from prying eyes and ears, we can make a plan.”
Remembering the woman from the queen’s concert, I paused. What if he seeks to use me as he did her? Then, why would the diviner lead me to him if I could not trust him? He regarded me, and for the first time I did not feel as if he looked upon me as a conquest. He saw me with fresh eyes, as I saw him, and I think he saw something more, perhaps an ally? “That would never work. They suspect you, I think.”
“You’re right. Then I will ask Sabine to join me, and you as her lady-in-waiting must join us; it is only appropriate.”
Perhaps he does have good intentions. I smiled at our plot. It had to work. The diviner said once I discovered who took my memories, everything would be revealed. If it were not Johai and Damara, perhaps together, with Adair, I could find out who.