The woman in Rendicryss’s memory I called Mother was evil. She beat me. She tried to kill Rendicryss. She said she was going to kill me, and when I ran, she cursed me. She took my power from me. I hated her. She was nothing like Jori’s. If anything, she was like his father. Waiting to take away what I had and give it to that tormenting Armel. Perhaps I should feel grateful my memories of them were wiped clean. “I don’t remember her.”
“Xavier told me she died when you were born.”
I nodded. “Yes. That is what he told me too.”
He blinked repeatedly at my answer. “I suppose we have that in common, then.”
“I think a life of knowing a mother and having her taken away would be harder than never knowing one at all. I have nothing to miss. No shared laughs. No warm hugs. You, on the other hand . . .” My finger lifted to the smooth sapphire. “. . . lost something special.”
If he wished me to see him as the sad broken prince, it worked. His loneliness was palpable, but his desperation was too.
He broke a piece of bread off and fed it to me like I was a child.
“I can feed myself.”
“I’ve seen. But I like taking care of you, Maggie. Is it so hard to let down your formidable guard and accept my hand as genuine? Let me take care of you a little? You don’t have to go it alone.”
It wasn’t an order, and I supposed I could let him—a little. But I wasn’t altogether confident there wasn’t hidden meaning in what he was asking. I clarified. “It isn’t so hard, sire.” I half smiled. “But it would be helpful if you would allow me to ask for things, rather than have them foisted upon me. My formidable guard typically acts on instinct. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt—by accident.”
He laughed heartily.
After breakfast, it was time to go to the arena. The prince strapped on my cloak, and I let him, only rolling my eyes after he turned to open the door. The wool was a welcome layer against the cold in the hallway. As the corridor sloped and we started down the stairs, I asked about which draignoch would be fighting today.
“Will it be the one you caught when we met?”
“A magnificent monster. So much larger than the others. I know you have a strange affinity for it. Don’t worry. Although that kind of power must never go free, it hasn’t been harmed, if that’s why you frown. It will be able to defend itself.”
“Will it fight today?”
“Against Oak?” He shook his head. “No. That would be a waste. That creature is being saved for a particular challenger, but I can say no more.” He winked.
In the pit of my stomach, I knew he spoke of Griffin.
Sybil and Esmera waited outside the Great Hall at the top of the large stone steps. Both in brown dresses collared with chestnut-colored fur. The lapels were embroidered with flowers made of silver thread. Teardrop-shaped milky-white stones dangled from the center of Esmera’s flowers.
Clouds hung low in the skies. The air was chilled and thick, hinting at rain.
“Brisk today,” Esmera said as we approached.
“It is,” I said, trying for politeness.
“Is that my cloak?” Sybil scowled. “I was missing that.”
I thought Griffin had borrowed it, not stolen it. Mortified, I started to unclip it, but she stopped me. “It’s fine. Don’t freeze today on my account. It looks good on you.”
“That’s a beautiful necklace,” Esmera chimed. “Did you steal that too?”
“No. A gift from my father to hers.” Jori’s lie was spoken sternly, closing the line of questioning. He extended an arm to Esmera, which she took as they started down the stairs.
“I am not looking forward to another day of this.” Sybil groaned, attempting to take my arm, but that would have made my fall impossible. With her strength, she would’ve caught me, and I had no intentions of going to the tournament today. Xavier would have to wait. I let my heel catch on the first step, purposely tripping, and fell, rolling down the rest of the stairs, crashing into the courtyard.
“Oh!”
“Maggie!” Sybil and Jori yelled.
“Ow!” My dress wet, I felt a fine layer of dirt on my backside as I shifted. I fell back down, grabbing my ankle.
“Are you all right?” Jori asked.
He and Sybil helped me stand.
I limped, cringing, shaking my head. “My ankle feels turned. It needs tending. I think I should return to my room.”
Jori looked put out. He sighed but nodded. “Yes. We cannot be late.” He waved a guard over. “Can you please escort Maggie to her room?” He looked at me. “Do you need the physician?”
“Yes, sire. Would be good to have him check it.”
“Then get the physician. Sander may be at the arena by now,” he told the guard.
“Of course, sire.”
They left, Sybil smirking over her shoulder at me, probably wondering why she hadn’t done the same thing.
As the guard set me down outside my room, I made light of the physician.
“On second thought, Petal is here. She can wrap my ankle. No need to rush the physician over. If it’s worse by afternoon, I’ll send her to get him.”
I waited until he was gone to wind my way to the kitchens, hoping to find Bradyn. A place that never seemed to rest, it smelled heavenly, of baking bread, but was so hot I sweated beneath my cloak. The fires burned, gaunt men turning mutton spits. Others chopped fruits and vegetables on the butcher’s block, everyone dressed in the same gray smocks. None spoke to me or to each other. There was a strange melancholy over the palace, a curse of its own. Perhaps the happiness died with Jori’s mother, or perhaps it was never within the walls at all.
I rounded the corner, padding toward the pantry, running into Bradyn’s mother, Molly, covered in flour, kneading dough.
“Bradyn is at the arena. Did you need something?”
“A horse. I’d like to go to the market in the Middle.”
Her frown dipped contemplatively. “Buffont!”
The heavyset cooker poked his head out of the back pantry. He wore a floor-length red wool vest in a failed attempt to hide his greasy linens. He was going out. “Stop your fussing. I’m leaving already!”
Light flooded the room he was in. He was leaving by way of another door.
Molly whacked the rolling pin on the block, calling him back. “Lady Maggie will ride with you in the wagon to the market is what I was going to say.” She shook her head.
“Will she now?” He chuckled. “Anything Lady Maggie wishes is granted! Let’s go, lass!”
A small wagon hitched to two sturdy horses sat waiting in the alley outside the kitchen door. The rear was filled with oversized baskets brimming with grains, potatoes, and apples. Part of the king’s loot from the soldier’s raids on the South. The king wasn’t a king at all. He was an artful fence, filling his coffers selling his pillaged bounty.
Worried the guard in the courtyard would stop me, I asked Buffont if he minded very much if I rode inside one of the baskets.
He understood without explanation, squeezing another in the middle. He covered the top with a burlap cloth. As the wagon jockeyed out the gates, I held my breath. The guards stopped another wagon on the way in, but paid Buffont no notice.