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“So you see, ladies and gentlemen, until the ownership of this knife is confirmed...” The overseer of Cold Pass Castle pauses mid-sentence as a knock is heard on the chamber door. “Come in.” He calls.
The solid, wooden door opens just wide enough to admit a bland, rail thin aide, who bows deeply, clearly nervous. “Honored Chancellor, your majesties, Mr. President, sir, if you will excuse my intrusion...” “Get on with it.” The overseer interrupts impatiently. “Sir, there’s a woman here demanding to speak on behalf of the guard.” Surprise crosses the faces of the six world leaders seated at the round conference table. “Who is she?” The aide swallows; “She says her name is Mrs. William Hawklan, sir.” The red haired chancellor of the Pleasure Society glances across the table at the young monarch of Midkingsen. Both women nod briefly, then Chancellor Amanda Burren speaks. “I motion we hear what Mrs. Hawklan has to say.” “I second the motion.” Her majesty, Kallia, of Midkingsen quickly adds. “Any objections, your majesties, Mr. President?” The overseer addresses the other four seated at the table. Each shakes his head in turn. “Show Mrs. Hawklan in.” He commands the aide. A couple minutes later, an elderly woman enters, assisted by a cane. The castle overseer steps away from the table, allowing her to take his place. She rests one hand on the edge of the table as she inclines her head to those watching her. “My greetings and thanks to your majesties, Honored Chancellor, Mr. President,” Her words are pronounced in an unmistakable west continent accent, “I request you hear me out before rendering your judgement in this case.” “A few questions first.” West Continent President Evans requests, “Were you acquainted with the guard or the prisoner?” “The prisoner, sir.” “For how long?” His majesty, Robero, of Ouestlun asks. “Eighty-six years.” The strong clear voice does not hesitate. “Then you are aware that the prisoner was an old woman?” His majesty, Darius, of Norsecount queries. “Old in that she was passed her century birthday,” The woman pauses a moment, “The guard was young then?” “Between twenty-five and thirty.” The overseer offers. Mrs. Hawklan nods to herself. “Whose weapon was that?” She indicates a knife covered in dried blood on the table. “That has not yet been determined,” President Evans states, “There is insufficient evidence...” “What Mr. President means is...” Monarch Kallia cuts in. “What that means is clear enough,” The elderly woman looks around the table at the six world leaders seated there, “That is why I came. I believe that what I have to tell you will clear up a great many aspects of this case.” “Then you believe,” Begins his majesty, Ferdinand, of Estorika, “That the prisoner, whom you claim to have known, may be the guilty party?” “I do,” Mrs. Hawklan raises her hand to quell murmurs, “I do believe so in the light of what she has previously proven herself capable of.” “What exactly do you know of the prisoner then?” Monarch Robero inquires. “Her life story: From the circumstances surrounding her birth to the reasons for her imprisonment in Cold Pass Castle.” “Perhaps you might simply give us the conclusion to that story.” President Evans requests. “If you wish,” The woman inclines her head to the west continent president, “Whatever your verdict, justice has already been served.” “Perhaps,” Chancellor Burren observes, “We should allow the lady to tell her story from the beginning.” “Indeed,” Monarch Ferdinand agrees, “Such a conclusion requires the most complete explanation possible.” “A seat for the lady then,” Monarch Darius commands, “One hundred years makes for a long tale.” “More than that.” Mrs. Hawklan corrects gently as the overseer positions a chair for her, “My history begins with four people whose paths crossed time and time again.”
There's a kingdom many days travel from here which is constantly warring with all three of its neighbours. The fighting stops for snow season, with promises and rumours of peace negotiations come blossom season, but the fighting always resumes instead. This constant state of war leads the nobility to keep their women and children confined to estates well away from the borders. It's these estates, with their carefully managed farmlands which keep the kingdom self-sufficient and without need of trade partners instead of enemies. But to be born a child of the nobility there is to be sentenced to life in a gilded cage. Perhaps the cage extends to the next nearest estates, but it's still a cage. There is no travel beyond these central estates. There is no word of life beyond them either. The whole world is the estates which keep the kingdom running well enough to perpetuate the war.
Curiosity is a curse in a child so born. The curious are silenced and punished until they fall into line with the demands of their elders. Well, in most cases. The few who persist in their curiosity eventually find some means of escape and the tales told of their fates, true or not, provide material for crushing the spirits of the next generation. I was a curious child, but in the care of a wise woman who recognized it early and took care to channel my energy into seemingly appropriate pastimes. To all others, I appeared to be a complacent, dutiful young girl. The means by which my curiosity was kept hidden were as secret as the trait itself. I didn't know then, who the allies of my nurse were. Who kept her supplied with the books which introduced me to a world beyond both the estates and the eternal fighting on the borders. I was taught, in secret, real world history and geography, natural sciences, self defence and wildland survival skills. I learned to recognize accents, weapons, and plants. To properly identify animals and their tracks. To count and name all the kingdoms of the known world. It seems it very suddenly occurred to my father that his daughter had grown into a woman. For one day I was treated as a child and the very next my marriage to the son of the nearest neighbour was announced. I knew the young man in question well enough to know marriage to him would be torture of the highest order. He was as ignorant as a pupil of his tutors could remain and viciously cruel to every living being around him. These traits were concealed, if poorly, from his elders, but all too obvious to those his own age. Our wedding was to be held early in the next blossom season, although arrangements began the day of the announcement, which was made in the midst of the elder season. Before the first elder moon phase had passed, my nurse procured for me the clothes of a common boy. My woman's shape was concealed by means of tight, body altering garments which could be concealed beneath the shirt and trousers. There was an old all-purpose knife such as a common boy would own and a pack which held a second set of clothes and some food and water. My hair was cut after the fashion of a common boy and I was instructed in the proper accent of the local common folk. In this disguise, I was smuggled from the estate in the back of a cooper's wagon. I was aware both my parents and my intended would seek me out. The cooper's cart carried me across three estates, but nowhere near far enough from my home. I had to walk cross country, across freshly harvested fields to reach the outer edge of those central estates. Even then, my parents had guards who were capable of seeking me out so long as I remained inside the kingdom's borders. My nurse suggested I seek employment at an inn for a time until I could find a traveller I could convince to smuggle me out of the country. Being less convinced of my own powers of persuasion, I changed my disguise for the garments of a poor county undertaker's daughter and enlisted in the army in a shield maid corps.
“Mama!” Kianna slips from the housekeeper's grasp and flies across the foyer. Her mother catches the child up in her arms and buries her face in the long, baby fine, silvery and pale green hair. After a long moment, the woman takes a deep breath and looks up.
“What has been done?” She queries of the housekeeper. “The stable hands went after them,” The servant sighs, “They have not returned, your grace.” “How long has it been?” “Nearly a full bell, your grace.” Hooves can be heard outside, then a scuffling, and finally two men enter the house. Both bow deeply on seeing their mistress. “We're sorry, your grace,” One begins, “We followed them east on the old trade road until they vanished. They have most likely crossed into Tulia by now.” “Thank you.” The duchess tells them as the telephone rings. Still carrying Kianna, she goes into the library to answer it.
“Nerita,” Laine scowls in exasperation, “If you can't sit still, get the f*** out of here.”
“Okay, okay.” I haul myself off the bed and head for the door, “C'mon, Sefu.” On the floor below, I encounter Duke Malin entering his suite. He looks over the battered running shoes, old jeans, even older shirt of Laine's with the sleeves cut off, and loose hair and sighs. “Lady Nerita,” He emphasizes my title, “You cannot go around dressed like that anymore.” “No one's gonna see me,” I respond, “Prob'ly wouldn't recognize me if they did. 'Sides, Laine kicked me out of our rooms.” “Be careful.” Duke Malin orders sternly as I slip past him. Leaving the old south tower, I head out to the mostly deserted gardens. The mid October evening is chilly, but I don't really notice. Maybe it's the nervous energy buzzing through me. Sefu and I wander the garden paths until the twilight turns to real dark. Even then, I'm not quite ready to go inside. There are a number of bright, ornamental lamps on posts throughout the gardens and I take a seat on a bench beneath one. Sefu stretches out between the bench and the bush behind it, out of sight of the patrolling guards who occasionally pass. I'm finally able to sit still, but the events of the past few days keep chasing each other through my head. “I hardly thought anyone else would be out so late,” The deep, male voice is vaguely familiar, “You must be cold.” Looking up, I recognize Prince Derian and flush. I don't embarrass easily, but for his highness to catch me out so late, dressed like I am... if anyone ever hears about this, I'm in serious trouble. “No... not really,” I notice Sefu hasn't even opened his eyes, “Your highness.” A pained expression flickers over Prince Derian's face, “If you're certain. You're new to the court, aren't you?” I nod, “New to Norsecount, actually.” “What do you think?” He waves an arm at the gardens. “It's very different from where I grew up,” I don't want to lie. I just wish I could escape. Sefu's no help, that's for sure. Obviously he doesn't consider Prince Derian a threat. But then, he doesn't care about my reputation. Prince Derian studies me with open curiosity, “Mind if I sit?” “If you want.” I'm sitting sideways, with my feet on the bench and my knees against my chest, but there's lots of room. Prince Derian doesn't seem to see Sefu at all. “What brings you out so late?” “I was too restless to sleep.” He nods knowingly, “I find the palace gets stuffy, even in the winter... especially in the winter. It does get quite cold out here,” He glances over me and shakes his head, “You're shivering.” I know I am, but it's nerves, not cold. There's just no point trying to tell him that. “Here,” Prince Derian slips off his jacket to reveal the sweater underneath, “Wrap up in this.” “Thanks.” I accept the jacket and drape it over my shoulders. It's warm from him wearing it, which doesn't help me feel an better. He studies me again, a little more critically, “Have we met?” “No.” “You must've been at court this afternoon then,” He nods to himself, “How I wish Father would mind his own business!” “They say he's concerned...” “I know,” Derian scowls, “Believe me, I've heard all his concerns a thousand times over. I still have a sister.” I can't help frowning, “I thought I'd heard the princesses aren't really his majesty's daughters.” “Most of them aren't. It's just I'd wager everything I own that Nerissa is,” Prince Derian grimaces, “Even she thinks I should marry this Lady Nerita.” “Oh?” “Last time I was here, Nerissa couldn't say enough about the woman. She hasn't this time, but I know she wants to.” At least Princess Nerissa's keeping her word. Now to see how long it lasts. Prince Derian abruptly changes the subject, “Did you attend the Harvest Masquerade?” I nod. “Will you be at the ball tomorrow?” “I've been invited.” “Letitia's twenty-first birthday,” He shakes his head, “I don't know why Father keeps the older four here. No one would miss them. Not that Kamilla's any better... she's just still underage.” While I have to agree, the whole mess is really none of my business and I'm safer not saying anything. “And then the ambassador from Arawn arriving later this month,” Prince Derian sighs, “Even Father doesn't know who President Gayre is sending yet.” I shrug, “Last I heard, politics in Arawn were still pretty crazy.” “You know something of Arawn?” Prince Derian frowns curiously. “As much as I care to.” He glances up at the darkening palace, “Will you be remaining at court long?” “Permanently, as far as I know.” This surprises him. Then a chill breeze comes along and blows my loose hair over my face. Before I can push it away, Prince Derian reaches out and gently brushes it aside. “Few ladies would leave their hair unbraided,” He observes softly, “Although few would be seen on palace grounds dressed as common citizens either.” I know my face is bright red. I can feel the blood, “I didn't think anyone would be out.” Prince Derian chuckles gently, “Most nights you'd be right. Your hair is beautiful.” I have to fight to breathe normally, “It's also really thick and heavy.” “Hmm,” He reaches out again to brush away a stray strand. This time his fingertips brush my skin. I have to get out of here before I get myself in trouble. “I... I'm sorry. I need to go.” My feet hit the ground and I stand quickly... too quickly. “Careful.” Prince Derian is on his feet as well, his hands catching my shoulders to steady me. Standing close like this, I find he's tall enough I have to look up to see his face. “Th... thanks.” I can barely swallow. “Who are you?” The words are very soft yet full of wonder. I don't have a chance to answer because his lips brush against mine. I've never let any guy this close to me in my life. But then, I can usually keep my head better than this too. Right now I'm so completely lost... I don't know how I ended up with his arms around me... or mine around his neck. All I know is the kiss leaves both of us breathless and it's easier to bury my face in his chest than look at him. His jacket has fallen to the ground and one of his hands is stroking my hair... just like my mother used to... The memory snaps me back to the reality of the situation and I go cold all over. “I really do have to go.” I push away from him and flee to the palace, not caring if Sefu follows or not. The guard at the door has to let me in, but with my hair over my face, I doubt he would recognize me later. Sefu isn't with me, but catches up before I reach the tower. The only light in the whole three floors is the bedroom where Laine is reading in bed. She drops the book on seeing me. “Nerita? What happened?” “Don't ask,” I'm closer to crying than I've been in years, “Just don't ask.” I drop onto the edge of the bed and Sefu tries to crawl into my lap. Laine studies me carefully, “You didn't do anything...?” “Nothing that stupid... bad enough though.” She groans, “Nerita, you can't afford to've met Prince Dashing... or whatever the fuck that faerie tale prince's called... not when...” “How 'bout Prince Derian?” That makes Laine pause. Then she laughs, “You didn't tell him who you are, did you?” “Of course not. Not out in the garden at this time of night. Not dressed like this,” I groan, “What a f*** up!” Laine keeps laughing, “Sefu was with you, right?” “Sefu was asleep under a bush,” I glower at my tiger, “Some chaperone you are.” I can see laughter in his eyes too, “Laine... if you ever tell anyone about this... and I mean anyone... ever... I will kick your a**.” “Yeah, whatever,” She's still laughing, “Nerita, come to bed. You're wasted.” |
AuthorAlexandra A. 'Lexa' Cheshire is the author of numerous novels and short stories published through Howling Wolf Books. Lexa is a wife, mother, cat owner, and music lover. Archives
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