Firebrand

The castle appeared nearly empty. Most inhabitants would be at supper at this hour. The deserted corridors echoed the hollowness she felt within.

She shook her head thinking that only she could feel lonely when her father and aunts had come all the way from Corsa to visit her, and her best friend was also here.

She turned down the dim main corridor of the Rider wing, suddenly exhausted by it all. She would take advantage of the quiet, and sit and rest in the Rider common room. It was usually too noisy with boisterous young Riders made restive by being stuck indoors for so long, but with them all at supper, the common room beckoned.

Yes, she would sit for a while and think of Cade. She would try to remember.

Anna the ash girl was just exiting the Rider wing with full buckets when she espied Rider Sir Karigan’s approach, her head bowed in a thoughtful manner. Possessed by some unknown urge, and before she could be seen, Anna scurried away and hid behind a bulky suit of armor standing at attention in the main corridor.

She watched Sir Karigan enter the Rider wing, continuing at her deliberate pace. Anna carefully set her buckets and brooms down, trusting they would remain unnoticed behind the armor, and crept back to the entrance of the Rider wing. The area had been abandoned by its occupants, who were off to supper. She’d been on her own there while cleaning the fireplaces and stoves that kept it warm, but she hadn’t felt entirely alone. Certain sections of the castle, the really old parts like the Rider wing, often left her feeling spooked, like she was being watched by someone who was not there. She hated when she had to work in such places by herself, but was now inexorably drawn back by the presence of Sir Karigan.

She slipped into the dim, rough-hewn corridor of the Rider wing, making sure to keep her distance, clinging to the wall thinking she could dart into one of the arched doorways that led into the bed chambers, if need be.

What am I doing? Anna wondered. Her fellow servants often called her “Mousie” for being so timid and quiet, but for some reason, she could not help herself. She had always been intrigued by the Green Riders, their easygoing manner, the confidence with which they carried themselves. They rode into danger willingly, knowing they might never come back. Most of them were commoners like her.

Among them, Sir Karigan stood out.

They had said she was dead, but she had returned, and if rumor held truth, she had returned in a most unusual manner.

Spat right outta thin air, as Wallf the footman would say, reverting to his common burr, rather than the more refined speech he used when on duty in the presence of the highborn. He had been working in the king’s great hall during the feasting on Night of Aeryc. Spat right outta thin air and landed on the table of the nobles. What a mess! And Lord Mirwell howling like a cat in heat when the soup spilled and scorched his itty bits.

Up ahead, Sir Karigan turned into the common room. After cleaning the spent ashes in the fireplace there, Anna had banked the coals. The chamber would still be warm. She increased her stride, hoping Sir Karigan didn’t suddenly decide to turn around and discover she was being followed.

Anna slowed as she neared the common room, tiptoed to the doorway, and peered in. Sir Karigan left the lamp on the big table at low glow, but threw a log onto the coals. She stood there staring into the hearth.

Anna had heard, of course, about some of Sir Karigan’s deeds, how she had helped save the king’s throne from his usurper brother, and how she had helped rescue the queen from Mirwellian thugs, before the queen was the queen, that was. Then she’d been brave enough to go into Blackveil Forest. But Anna also heard rumors of magic and even greater deeds that were not openly discussed. Just whispered nuances she caught as she went about her duties sweeping away ashes. The Riders were careful not to speak of magic—she’d never overheard anything, anyway, but she believed there was a lot more going on than was apparent on the surface, and that Sir Karigan was involved in much of it. It was a shame the Rider could not receive proper acclaim for her accomplishments, but she guessed that was why the king had made her a knight when there had been none for a very long time. For Anna, it just made the Rider more of a mystery.

The log ignited, the hearth flaring with firelight. With a heartfelt sigh, Sir Karigan sank into a rocking chair. Slowly, the chair creaked back and forth. The Rider appeared to have a lot on her mind. If Anna were more brave, she’d ask what troubled her.

I shouldn’t be spying, Anna chided herself. She was about to hurry back to work when the Rider spoke. Anna froze, fearing she’d been discovered. How would she explain? But she then saw the Rider had not shifted her attention and seemed to speak to the fire. She crossed her arms as if to hold herself.

“I miss you,” Sir Karigan was saying. “I would give anything to have you here, or me to be there. To be with you.”

Anna had no idea of whom Sir Karigan spoke. It was odd, she thought. Sir Karigan was regarded with admiration by important people, not least of all the king, and she was often surrounded by her friends and fellow Riders. She had to be strong to survive her many adventures. She’d accomplished heroic deeds. And so Anna thought she would be invulnerable to the difficulties more common folk suffered.

But now she saw how wrong she was. As Sir Karigan murmured the name “Cade,” she thought she had never heard such pain, seen so lonely a soul.

Anna hurried away, cheeks warm at having witnessed so raw a moment that was not meant to be seen. Even heroes, she learned, bore more sorrows, worse than any bodily wound, than she could have guessed.

THE WINTER WOOD