Ginny Hartman Read online

  Several servants scurried past him, their curious gazes intent as he entered the keep, though not a one of them stopped to inquire as to his needs. He finally stepped forth and stopped a young lad. “Please direct me to King Cedric.”

  The boy nodded. “Wait here,” he said, as his eyes flashed to Terric's shoulder. “I will see to his whereabouts.”

  Terric nodded his head and stood, taking in his surroundings. The walls were draped in dark tapestries, adding to the already somber feel of the keep. He wondered briefly why they didn't decorate with brighter colors to cheer the place up a bit before deciding he must really not feel like himself if he was critiquing the castle's decor. Agitatedly, he reached up and combed the wayward locks of dark hair from his forehead. The first thing he planned on doing, once he spoke to King Cedric, was taking a long bath to clean the journey's grime from his person. The second thing he was going to do was sleep.

  “Terric,” King Cedric's voice interrupted his planning. Turning, he saw the king walking towards him, with King Hadrian, the king of Peltis at his side. “I can't tell you how good it is to see you.”

  “Likewise,” Terric answered honestly. He was even more relieved than he had anticipated being at the sight of King Cedric alive.

  “Welcome to the Kingdom of Peltis,” King Hadrian offered solemnly.

  “Thank you. Your protection is greatly appreciated.” Terric said sincerely. Then turning back to King Cedric he asked, “Can we speak somewhere in private?”

  King Cedric turned questioning eyes on King Hadrian. “Aye,” he said, “I will excuse myself to allow you some privacy.”

  Both men were silent until King Hadrian had left. Terric was the first to speak, turning to King Cedric he said, “I refuse to say anything until we are behind closed doors. You never know who is listening.”

  “Wise counsel. Follow me to my chambers.” Terric nodded and followed him to the second floor of the castle and down a long, dreary corridor. The King's chambers were dark just like the rest of the castle. The only light in the room came from the glowing embers in the fire. As soon as the door was shut, Terric took the extra precaution of barring the door.

  Turning back to King Cedric he said, “Rosalind is safe. She is at my childhood home with my mother and sister. They have promised to keep her protected and safe until she can return to Herfordshire Castle.”

  The king exhaled a relieved breath, “To simply tell you thank you sounds trite. You have gone above and beyond your duty in helping with her.”

  Terric shrugged, “My duty is to you. If helping her is what you needed, then so be it.”

  The King's eyes narrowed into slits, “Did you have to tell her about her parents?”

  Terric nodded, “Aye. She did not take the news well.”

  King Cedric began pacing, his hands wringing the entire time. “I suppose she didn't. Colin is not taking the news well either. That, combined with the attack on him right before we left for Peltis, has left him truly upset. I have assigned a defender to remain at his side day and night, and he does not seem to appreciate the supervision, though I only do it to keep him safe. He has become withdrawn and sullen, completely contrary to his usual carefree nature.”

  “A wee lad never likes to feel suppressed, though it must be done for his safety.”

  The king nodded in agreement but otherwise remained silent. Just when Terric was about to ask to be excused, he spoke. “Aeden brought word back from Darth after he delivered his message to you.”

  “And what did he have to say?”

  “People are already beginning to talk. They are curiously speculating why the entire royal family has left Herfordshire Castle.”

  “Tis not such a rare event,” Terric said defensively. “Tis not the first time they have been absent from their territory. Tis absurd that anyone would start worrying so soon.”

  “Servants talk; word gets around. I've been thinking that the southwestern territory must be protected immediately.”

  “I agree.”

  “So I've sent for Asher to come to Peltis. He should arrive any day.”

  “Asher, the lead trajector?” Terric asked, confused.

  “Yes. I think we need to let the Kingdom know the truth. They will never trust me if I keep this from them.”

  “You are keeping it from them for their own safety,” Terric growled, unsure if it was a wise idea to announce the deaths of King Eustace and Queen Constance before he'd had the chance to avenge their deaths. His thoughts instantly went to Rosalind and how the news being broadcast throughout the entire Kingdom of Darth would affect her. She was still trying to process and grieve the loss as it was.

  “I have decided that they should know. Asher is already on his way, so there is nothing we can do about that. I will give him an account to deliver to the other trajectors to spread throughout the kingdom. I will not have fear and speculation engulfing my people when I can easily thwart that.”

  “The speculation you can thwart, but the announcement will only increase their fear. I do not think it wise to tell them what has happened until we can reassure them that we have caught whoever is responsible and punished them accordingly.”

  The king's shoulders slumped, his face falling dejectedly. “Aye, you are right. It seems I cannot think properly since that awful night.” He walked over to his bed and sat on the mattress, his eyes refusing to meet Terric's. Terric had never seen him so unsure. He was used to the king commanding with ease. The broken man before him was a stranger.

  Terric walked over and stood before him, placing one hand on his shoulder in an awkward attempt at comfort. “The damage hasn't been done; there is no need to punish yourself.”

  The king looked up at him hopefully, “Aye, you are right once more. Asher is already on his way, but I will refuse to send the announcement with him once he comes. In hindsight I wish I hadn't been so brash in sending for him, but I guess I panicked. I'm grateful that you are finally back to see things clearly, since apparently I cannot. I do not know what I would do without you.”

  “Thank you,” Terric replied humbly. “Now if I may be so bold, I suggest I get some sleep or I will no longer be of value to you or to anyone else.”

  King Cedric rose from the bed. He walked over to the far side of the room and indicated a door partially hidden in the wall that led into a smaller chamber designed for the king's personal defender. “I will send the servants up with a bath and some supper. I trust that I will not see you until the morning.”

  “Thank you,” Terric said before slipping into the room.

  It didn't take long for the servants to arrive with a wooden tub, buckets of water, and a plate of super. Terric graciously allowed them into his room and waited while they filled the tub. As soon as they had left, he sat and inhaled the food, not paying much attention to what it was he was consuming. He was anxious to soak his weary body in the tub before the water turned cold.

  After a quick and thorough cleaning of his person, he laid his head back and tried to relax, but his mind instantly went to Rosalind. He thought of the way she looked at him with her luminous violet eyes, and he berated himself once more for not being able to promise her what she wanted. Feeling restless, he stood and grabbed a linen sheet and furiously rubbed the droplets of water from his body, patting his dripping hair off last, before wrapping the sheet around his waist. He felt an inexpressible desire to tell Rosalind how he felt, to let her know that he did care for her, that he wasn't heartless when he had chosen to ride off instead of giving her a proper goodbye.

  Eying a small desk, he sat down and anxiously began pulling open the drawers, hoping to find a writing utensil and some parchment. He was in luck, he thought, as he pulled a few loose papers from the drawer along with a quill and dipping ink. A wet lock of hair fell across his forehead as he began to write:

  My sweet Rosalind,

  Forgive my lack of skill in writing; I am by no means an expert. My heart yearns to speak with you and to convey the feelings
I hold deeply in my heart. I want nothing more than to hold you in my arms and to promise you the world, but I cannot, so I must satisfy myself with merely words on parchment.

  Knowing you may never see this prompts me to be more bold in my admissions; I will start with the beginning. I can never forget the first day I laid eyes on you. Stephen nearly ran over you as you lay in the meadow. The first thing I noticed about you was your hair, the splendid waves surrounded you in all their glory, and I wanted nothing more than to touch the silky locks. When I soon had the chance to behold your face, I knew I had never seen a lovelier sight. I wondered what sort of angel had fallen from heaven that day, and what sort of noble act I had performed to qualify me to behold such a vision.

  Looking back on that day, I see how you had already captured my heart, even then. Tis true that your beauty exceeds that of any earthly creature, but your heart is beautiful as well, and tis my own heart that yearns to be with you once more. Dare I hope that you feel the same?

  Terric replaced the quill in the ink pot and sat back in the chair, crossing his arms across his naked chest as he thought. There was so much more he longed to say, but his hand was aching and his eyes were beginning to droop. Alas, it would have to wait till the morrow, he thought, as he rose from the chair and discarded the linen sheet on the floor before crawling into bed and quickly falling to sleep.

  Chapter 16

  Horehound Tonic

  Rosalind had lost track of how many days had passed since she had come to Emerson Castle. She had grown so comfortable with Millicent and Gwendolyn that she oftentimes felt guilty for feeling contentment when she knew she should still feel intense sorrow. Cloistered away in a castle she wasn't familiar with, with people who only a short time ago had been strangers, made it easy for her to forget about the tragedy she had only so recently endured. In the rare moments of quiet she had, she sometimes allowed herself to ponder her loss, but the ache that would fill her breast was too much to bear so she would tamper it down until she felt it no more.

  Gwendolyn proved to be a most excellent distraction. The girl was vivacious and talkative and had quickly become a dear friend. Rosalind shared many interests with the girl, and had even encouraged her to share her healing knowledge, which she readily obliged. The garden at Emerson Castle was meticulously manicured and expertly kept. The symmetrical design was pleasing to the eye. There were four squares made up of four separate triangular parterres, each one partitioned off by box hedges with a smallish bay tree in the center. Each parterre held various herbs for the use in tonics and poultices, each mirroring the plot directly opposite it.

  One of the first things that Gwendolyn had taught Rosalind was the properties of thyme in helping to dispel melancholy. She had insisted that a small pillow be made stuffed with thyme for Rosalind to sleep on to aide her with her sadness. Rosalind fully believed that it was working. Today Gwendolyn was showing her how to make a tonic with horehound that could be used in healing a variety of illnesses in the chest.

  Rosalind held a small basket in her hand as Gwendolyn bent to snip off some of the wooly leaves. It didn't take her long to cut off all they would need to make the tonic, and soon they were on their way back inside, hoping to avoid the rain that promised to fall from the gray sky above. Rosalind lifted the hem of her new yellow dress and picked up her pace to keep up with Gwendolyn. Though the girl was smaller than she, she seemed to rush wherever she was going, causing Rosalind to have to take bigger strides to keep up.

  As soon as they entered the house, Millicent looked up from where she sat sewing yet another dress for Rosalind. “Dare I ask what the two of you are up to this day?”

  “Gwendolyn is teaching me to make a horehound tonic,” Rosalind quipped excitedly.

  Millicent smiled serenely. “I'm so glad that she is sharing her knowledge with you.”

  “Aye, as am I.”

  Gwendolyn rushed to the kitchen to retrieve some supplies. As soon as she was back she set a pot of water to boil above the fire. Gwendolyn and Rosalind sat on a fur before the fire as they both began tearing the horehound leaves into smaller pieces. It was a rare moment of quiet between the women, but Rosalind didn't mind. Her thoughts, as they often did, turned to Terric. She wondered if he was safe, if he had made any headway in finding the person behind her parents’ deaths and the attacks on King Cedric. She wondered if he would come to her when it was safe for her to return to Herfordshire Castle or if she would ever even see him again.

  As soon as Gwendolyn had placed the shredded leaves into the water to simmer, she sat back on the fur and pulled her legs up beneath her. “Mother, tell Rosalind about the time that Terric consumed an entire bottle of horehound tonic.”

  Millicent laid her sewing down in her lap and looked at Gwendolyn with squinted eyes. “Tis not the most flattering of tales. I'm not sure that we should taint Rosalind's opinion of Terric by sharing such a story.”

  “Oh please mother, tis truly worth repeating. Consider it as educating her on the overuse of the herb.”

  There was mirth in Millicent's eyes and she had Rosalind's full attention, as she always did when speaking of Terric. “Promise you won't tell him that I uttered this tale. I'm sure he would not be amused.”

  “Aye, I promise,” Rosalind agreed.

  “Very well. Terric was but a wee lad when he got into my herb chest.”

  “Mother, he was ten and two years old, hardly a wee little lad.” Gwendolyn interjected.

  “Gwendolyn there is no need for you to add details to the story. I'm the one telling the tale after all. Suffice it to say that he was young, too young to understand the ramifications of his actions. Apparently, he thought that my bottle of horehound tonic would make a tasty treat, and he decided to consume the entire thing.” Rosalind's eyes widened. “He replaced the empty bottle in the chest and never told anyone what he had done. To this day I'm still not quite sure what he was thinking. It wasn't until half a day later that he went missing. We searched all over the castle grounds, and finally Aeden found a letter he had left behind.”

  “A letter?” Rosalind questioned.

  “Aye,” Millicent continued. “It was a farewell letter addressed to us, proclaiming his love and bidding us goodbye.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “He thought he was going to die,” Gwendolyn blurted out, laughing at the memory.

  “Consuming too much horehound can cause quite the...discomfort. When the cramps started, he was sure he was dying. We found him locked up in the garderobe, wailing in despair. Needless to say, he spent the remainder of the day in there exhausting the effects of the horehound tonic.”

  Rosalind grabbed her side as she doubled over in laughter at the image. She could hardly mesh the strong, brave image of Terric in her mind with the image of him as a young boy seriously thinking his actions were the cause of his early death. Oh how she wished that he was there now, that she could see the look on his face as his family teased him about a memory in his past she was sure he didn't want repeated. In the midst of peals of laughter, she glanced up as tears clouded her vision and saw purple and blue wisps of color dancing in front of her face. Without thinking, she reached up to brush them away, completely disregarding Terric's admonition to never touch them again.

  Her laughter instantly ceased as she felt herself being jolted from within, and before she knew what was happening, her eyes had cleared and she was standing in front of the door, her back turned towards Gwendolyn and Millicent as if she was about to leave. The room had gone silent and Rosalind held eerily still, apprehensive to turn around and face the onslaught of questions that was sure to come. She closed her eyes and cringed. Why had she been foolish enough to touch the wisps again? She dearly hoped that they wouldn't think her a witch.

  As she was trying to muster up the courage to turn and face them, Millicent called out softly, “Rosalind, child, come here.”

  Rosalind tried to decipher if there was any censure in her voice and, finding none, f
ound the strength to turn and look at them. Millicent's face no longer held mirth but neither did it look alarmed. She kept her eyes trained on her as she walked sheepishly back to where she had just been sitting. She was more afraid to look at Gwendolyn, not sure she could handle seeing a look of disdain or repulsion on her new friends face.

  “Rosalind, this is very important. I need you to tell me what just happened.”

  Rosalind inhaled shakily. “I'm not exactly sure. It's only happened three times now and—“

  Millicent cut her off, “This has happened more than once?”

  “Aye,” Rosalind hung her head in embarrassment, no longer willing to look at Millicent either.

  “Tell me about the other times,” Millicent urged.

  “The first time was after Terric had informed me of my parent's deaths. I had collapsed on the ground, overcome with grief, when I saw translucent, flame-like wisps swirling before me. I had seen them before but that was the first time I had touched them. Before I knew it, I was kneeling at Terric's feet who had stood a ways off from where I was.” After a brief pause, she continued. “The second time I had been dreaming, and I saw the shimmering wisps again. I reached for them in my dream, and as soon as I touched them, I was once more transported, this time to Terric's side where he was sleeping on the floor of the inn we had stopped at. I wasn't sure how I got there. Maybe I went to him in my sleep.” She made herself stop talking, as her mind wandered back to what had happened directly after that event—the kiss she had shared with Terric. She kept her head downcast in hopes that his mother and sister wouldn't be able to read her thoughts.

  “Mother, do you think...”

  “Oh yes,” Millicent interrupted, “though I find it quite curious.”