The following morning, I ate a hasty breakfast in the hall and then followed the trail of Valenians out to the courtyard as they waited for their horses. The mist was just beginning to burn away, and I stood off to the side and watched as Damhan’s sprawling lands woke with sun and gleaming dew.
There was the alehouse, the servants’ quarters, the stables, the sparring turf where Tristan and Oran had once practiced. And just on the rim of the pasture, there sat the Mairenna Forest, swathed in dark green pines and yellow aspens, crowned with fog. Not much had changed over the past one hundred and sixty years. It was a gentle reminder that this land, this people, was built in fortitude and tradition, that change happened slowly, gradually.
My plans were to get near the forest by requesting a tour, a tour I expected would be deterred since all of the men were going to be hunting. But I needed to show my curiosity in the land so it would not appear strange to see me walking about on my own.
I felt the weight of the spade in my dress pocket; I felt the weight of the rebellion in my heart.
I shivered against the uncertain chill and told myself that if these plans failed, I would revert back to exploring the secret passages that night, even though I had no knowledge on how to navigate them and there was a greater risk of me opening the wrong door than the right one. . . .
I was imagining the horror of getting lost within those dark passages when I heard the lilt of a beloved voice behind me.
“I hear that you are a passion of knowledge.”
I turned to look at Merei, fiercely suppressing the urge to throw my arms about her. I think we had the same expression on our faces, for her dimples set little valleys in her cheeks as she tried to restrain herself.
“I am. And you are a mistress of music?”
“Yes. Merei Labelle.” She swept me a little curtsy.
“Amadine Jourdain,” I returned, just as graceful. I felt Allenach’s eyes on me from the other side of the courtyard. Good, I thought. Let him see me introduce myself.
“Well, Amadine, it seems that we are vastly outnumbered by men. Perhaps you and I might spend the day together?” Merei asked, her eyes bright with questions.
I held my breath, my mind rushing through the sudden possibilities. I had not planned on Merei’s involvement—the last thing I wanted was to risk her safety—but I suddenly realized how much I could use her assistance.
“Yes, I would love to. But I planned to ride the land today,” I said as we meandered back into the crowd of men, toward Allenach. From the corner of my eye, I saw Cartier standing in a loose circle of Valenians. My heart quickened as I asked Merei, “Perhaps you could ride with me?”
“Of course!” Merei agreed as we came to stand before Allenach.
“My lord,” I greeted him, dropping a dutiful curtsy. “I was hoping for that promised tour of the land today.”
“I fear that I must ride with the men and lead the hunt,” he replied.
“Would one of your sons be willing to escort me?” I inquired, praying that he would give me gentle, polite Sean, not Rian, who I had sensed was suspicious of me last night.
As if he felt the tugging of my hopes, Sean appeared in the courtyard with sleep still in his eyes, his short hair ruffled. He was wearing his father’s colors, a maroon shirt beneath a leather jerkin, and black breeches tucked into knee-high boots. A quiver of arrows was slung over his shoulders, as was a long yew bow. When he felt my stare, he glanced to me, and I smiled at him. Just like that, he approached us.
“Good morning,” he greeted. “I did not think you were a hunter, Amadine.”
“I am not,” I concurred. “But I was hoping to tour the property today, to see more of your father’s lands.”
Allenach was very quiet, watching this interaction between me and his youngest son. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but my stomach clenched as I realized that the lord scarcely let me drift from his sight. I yearned for a shield, a flicker of magic, a way to hide myself from him and his keen observations.
“Your father is unable to escort me, though,” I said. “So I guess I shall have to wait for tomorrow?”
Sean shifted his weight. “I could take you,” he said, looking to his father. “Couldn’t I, Father?”
And here came Rian. He moved like a snake in the grass, as if he could smell my secret intentions from across the courtyard.
“What is this about?” the oldest brother inquired, his eyes remaining on me, hard and dark and suspicious.
“Sean is going to take Amadine on a tour,” Allenach stated, and again, I could not decipher if he was annoyed or bored. His words were carefully articulated.
“What?” Rian objected. “No, not Sean. Let me take her.”
My palms began to sweat, but I held my ground, praying, waiting. . . .
“You are supposed to lead the hunt with Father,” Sean objected.
“And you are supposed to bring up the rear.”
“Enough,” the lord said, a quiet but sharp word. His sons instantly obeyed. “Rian, you will come with me. Sean, you will take Amadine.”
I scarcely could believe it, that the lord of the House of Allenach was playing directly into my hands, directly into my wishes.
Sean nodded, evidently pleased, but Rian scowled, his face darkening as he finally removed his gaze from me. But I heard what he said to Allenach, his words striking me as pebbles as he muttered, “You are treating MacQuinn’s wench like a princess.”
I didn’t hear Allenach’s response, but my throat tightened.
“Come, mademoiselles,” Sean said, holding out an arm for each of us. I took his left, Merei his right. “And you would be?”
“Merei Labelle,” she said. “I just met Amadine a few moments ago.”
He guided us to the open gates of the courtyard, where Allenach’s servants were starting to bring the horses up to the Valenians.
“Give me just a few moments, to go fetch two palfreys for you,” Sean said. “Wait here. I shall return.”
We moved out of the way, watching Sean jog down the path to where the stables lay in the palm of the valley. I took this moment—the courtyard was humming with activity and movement as the men mounted their horses to leave—to ease Merei to a quiet pool of morning light.
“Act as if I am telling you something pleasant,” I whispered to her. Her face was exposed to the men, while my back was turned, so someone like Rian couldn’t read my lips.
“Very well,” Merei said, giving me that I just met you smile. “Tell me what is going on.”
“Shh. Just listen,” I murmured. “At some point in this ride, I am going to give you a hand signal. When you see me lay my hand over my collar, I need you to pretend that your horse has spooked. Ride as far away from the forest as you can. You must distract Sean for as long as you are able.”
Merei was still smiling at me, tilting her head as if I had just told her something wonderful. But her eyes widened, fixated on mine.
“I cannot tell you the details,” I whispered. “It’s best that you do not know.”
She wanted to say my name. I saw her lips, wanting to form Bri. But she laughed instead, remembering my coaching. And it was good she did, because I felt the grease of Rian’s stare again as he rode out of the courtyard.
“Be careful of the dark-haired brother. He looks at you in a way that angers me,” she whispered, hardly moving her lips so they could not be read as the last of the men departed.
“Don’t let him anger you.” I linked my arm with hers, the courtyard feeling vast and lonely now that it was empty. We walked back to the gates, watching the groups of men ride across the lush meadows, toward the forest. “I promise you when all this is over, I will tell you everything.”
Merei glanced to me, just as Sean emerged from the stables with three horses in tow.
“You had better,” she playfully admonished. “Since you-know-who is also here.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the reference to Cartier. “Ah yes. That was a surprise.”
The curiosities crowded her eyes, desperate to spill as tears, but I didn’t dare say anything more about him. All I said was, “Continue to play along with me.”
She nodded, and we greeted Sean with excited smiles. He gave Merei a bay mare while I took a roan gelding. And then we were mounted, following Sean as he led the way on his black stallion.
“Now, what should I show you first?” he asked, turning in the saddle to regard us riding side by side.
He had definitely chosen palfreys for us. These horses were extremely mellow, clopping along at a disinterested speed. Merei’s mare looked half-asleep, and my gelding was determined to taste every blade of grass we plodded by.
“Perhaps we could start with the alehouse?” I offered.
“Excellent choice,” Sean declared, and as soon as he turned back around in the saddle, I gave Merei a knowing look. She was going to have to switch the mare to get her to “spook.”
We rode the short distance down the hill, leaving our horses tethered outside the alehouse. It was evident Sean was thrilled to show us around; he told us every bit of the history of the stone-and-timber building, which I half listened to. I was more worried about making sure Merei found an appropriate switch, so when I saw her discreetly slip a slender branch into her skirt pocket, my heart finally settled back into my chest.
Now. I needed to go now, while I was still near the portion of forest that Tristan had once darted into, while the men were still pressing deep into the woods for the hunt, before they started to trickle back to the castle.
We mounted our horses, and Sean began to trot us along the wood line, chattering about the mill, which he was taking us to next. We were nearly upon the portion of forest that I needed to enter. I looked at Merei, laid my right hand over my left collar. She nodded and brought forth her switch. She gave her mare a hearty tap on the rump, and blessed saints, that horse bolted, just as I’d hoped.
We had all been taught how to ride at Magnalia. Even so, Merei almost lost her seat as the mare pulled back in a rear and then lurched into a furious gallop. I screamed after her, which startled Sean and sent him in hasty pursuit after her, across the wide pasture.
My gelding, old stalwart, watched with a little nicker. I nudged him into the woods, which he opposed until I kicked him harder. We trotted among the trees, the branches clawing us, my eyes hungrily taking it in. Faster, faster, I coaxed the horse, and he shifted into a rolling canter.
The branches swatted my face, yanked through my hair, kissed me with sap. But I continued to weave through them, my heart pounding as we drew near. I was letting the memory guide me, Tristan’s ten-year-old memory, and I felt the oak’s presence. Its roots were groaning beneath the ground, recognizing me, drawing me in as if I were on a tether.
The gelding jumped the little creek, and then we came to the clearing.
The years had shifted the forest, widening the arc about the oak. It stood alone, defiant, its long branches rustling in the gentle breeze. But it also meant I would be clearly exposed as I dug.
I dismounted on tingling legs and hurried to the tree. I knew this was the one, yet I couldn’t help but run my hands over the massive, furrowed trunk. And there, nearly worn away by years and seasons, was the carving of T.A.
I fell to my knees, searching my pockets for the little spade. I began to dig, settling into an urgent rhythm, feeling the muscles burn between my shoulder blades. The earth was soft; it spilled around my skirts as chocolate cake, stained my fingers as I continued to seek the locket and the stone.
My ears suddenly popped, and there was the sound of thunder, although it had been a perfectly clear morning. I felt the shift starting to happen, Tristan taking over. I couldn’t allow him to overcome me, and I dug faster, harder, and bit down on my lip until it bled, the pain and the metallic flow over my tongue keeping me anchored to my time and place.
Again, it took all of my focus to fend him off, to resist surrendering to him. It was like swimming against a strong current; I felt ragged, exhausted, when I finally tamped his urging by addressing him.
“What you have done, I will undo,” I whispered to him, my ancestor who had started the decline of Maevana.
I almost felt his surprise, as if he were standing behind me. And then he faded, giving way to my persistence.
There was a hollow thud at the tip of my spade.
And deep within the hole lay the wooden locket.
I had been prepared for it to have rotted away, but it was whole and well; the years of burial had not affected it, as if it had charmed itself to survive. Carefully, reverently, I reached down and took the chain, bringing the locket into my palm. My fingers were shaking as I worked the latch open.
The stone was just as I remembered, even though the memory had not been mine. It was smooth, luminescent, like a moonstone. Until it sensed my presence, and a blue light cascaded through it, like sun shining through rain. The awe poured over me like honey, thick and sweet. I wanted to sit and watch the magic dance through the stone. And I might have done so, fallen shamelessly captive to the quiet beauty of it. But the colors melted away, leaving the stone pearly white again, dim and mournful.
I was no Kavanagh. There was no trace of magic in my blood, and the stone had gone dormant after sensing me. It wanted Yseult, I thought, and thinking of her brought me back to the urgency, the danger I was flirting with.
As I latched the locket, I heard voices, the crunching of horses trotting through the woods. I was trembling as I shoved the wooden locket down the front of my dress, into the cage of my corset. Then I sent the spade tumbling down the hole and furiously refilled it, patting the earth firmly, scattering leaves and acorns and twigs over it. Just as Tristan had done one hundred and thirty-six years ago.
I heard the breaking of a stick, the swishing of feet in grass, just behind me.
Frantic, I tried to form a response for why I was kneeling here, beneath a tree, my fingers lined with dirt. I waited for a hand to fall on my shoulder and spin me about, to demand to know what I was doing. But it was a wet nose instead, nudging beneath my elbow. I sat down, the relief hot and prickly beneath my skin, as the wolfhound Nessie nudged me again, as if she wanted to play.
“Amadine!”
Now it was Sean, nearly upon me.
With what little time I had left, I ripped the hem of my dress, wiped the dirt from my hands onto the skirts, and tucked a twig into my hair. Nessie watched me with solemn eyes, as if she sensed my distress. Then I stumbled to retrieve the gelding, who was munching on the thin grass that flourished here. The locket pressed against my stomach, uncomfortable, but it would hold steady.
“Sean!” I called out to him, leading the horse back into the woods, Nessie on my heels.
“Amadine?”
We continued to call to each other until we met in the woods. His face went pale at the sight of me; he dismounted in a rush.
“What happened? Are you all right?”
“My horse spooked, right after Merei’s,” I said, making my voice waver. “He went for the woods.”
“Gods above, did you break anything?” He was looking at my lip, which I had forgotten about. A little trickle of blood had dribbled down my chin.
“No, it just rattled me a bit,” I said. “How is Merei?”
“She’s well.”
I glanced over his shoulder to see her and the mare approach us. Her gaze took me in, my dirt and my torn dress and my blood. Her fear finally roused, crossing the space between us as a shadow.
Bri, Bri, what are you doing?
“I swear that I chose the steadiest of horses for this tour,” Sean said with a shake of his head. “I cannot believe they both spooked. I apologize.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, laying my hand on his arm. “All the same, do you mind taking me back to the castle?”
“Of course,” Sean said, offering his knee to help me mount.
We rode back to the courtyard, where Merei’s consort was about to go on a walk. They eagerly invited me to join them, but I declined. All I could think of was two things: I needed to change my dress and scrub the dirt from my nails before Allenach returned. And I needed the privacy to cry in relief that I had the Stone of Eventide.
I did both, and then made myself scarce until dinner, giving my heart and mind plenty of time to settle and realign to what now was to come. Not until after dinner, when I was back in my chamber pacing, trying to give Cartier enough time to leave the hall before I met him in his room, did a knock sound on my door.
Cautiously, I went to answer it, finding my chambermaid standing at the threshold with an envelope.
“One of the mistresses of music has invited you to join her in the library this evening,” the girl said, dutifully handing me the letter.
I took it, fully aware that the guard beside me was watching. “Thank you.”
The chambermaid was off before I could shut my door. I knew Merei wanted to discuss what had happened this morning, that this was her attempt to let me explain myself.
I eased the envelope open; a square of parchment slipped out.
My heart swelled when I recognized her handwriting:
Meet with me?
I hesitated, wanting nothing more than to go to her. But before I could make up my mind, I watched as Merei’s elegant penmanship began to slide around on the paper. My breath caught as it slithered about like a black snake, eventually resting on the paper in slanted Dairine.
Meet with me.
Tristan’s memory unexpectedly captured me. I was too late to save myself from succumbing this time, and I sighed, watching as his hand crumpled the message, as he strode to the fire blazing in his hearth and tossed the parchment to the flames.
He had been waiting two days for her to finally send him this message.
Tristan had invited Princess Norah Kavanagh to Damhan under the pretense of loyal hospitality. She had agreed to stay at his castle, and both of them knew it was only to make plans about stealing the Stone of Eventide from her mother, the queen, before war was unleashed on western Maevana.
Tristan slipped from the chamber. The corridor was quiet, dark. Only a few sconces continued to burn, casting monstrous light on the walls as he began to walk.
He had wondered how the queen’s magic would corrupt in battle. He had read only one story about it, a story Liadan had ensured was passed down as it described what battle magic had done. Uncontrollable storms, unearthly creatures that rose up from the shadows, swords that stole sight when they pierced flesh, arrows that multiplied and returned to their archers . . .
He shuddered, hoping that Norah was ready to do what he suggested, that she would obtain the Stone of Eventide before the war came.
Tristan ascended the stairs to the third floor, silently padded down a narrow hallway to the door that led out to the northern parapet.
He stepped outside on the parapet walk, easing into the cold night.
His lands were drowning in moonlight. Everything looked so small, a quilt of dark greens and umbers and steel blues knit together with celestial light. The moon was swollen with gold, full and generous, the stars scattered about her as sugar spilled over black velvet.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow shift, and he knew it was her.
“Shouldn’t we find a better place to meet?” he asked.
“And why would I meet with you?” A man’s voice.
Tristan’s heart plummeted; he turned to look closer at the moving shadow. It was Norah’s face, her dark hair streaming loose around her shoulders. And her mouth was moving—she was saying something—and he couldn’t hear her. . . .
“Answer me,” Norah snapped, but it was a masculine, suspicious voice that was shaped by her lips. And that was when the princess’s face split down the middle, leaving Rian Allenach behind in her dust.