The White Forest (Mages and Kingdoms Book 2) (4 page)

Amelie

The voices were the
first sensations to cut through the darkness. Henna's was recognizable even though it was clipped and hushed. The other, a male's, tried to match Henna's volume but surprise and curiosity kept elevating it.

"But who is she? I've never seen a healing power as strong as hers. Surely, she's from the castle."

"She is not," Henna's hiss brought the man's voice down.

"Well, then from where? The queen does not ignore power like that."

Amelie's eyes fluttered open. She blinked against the blurriness. Her skin was on fire and sweat pooled beneath her, making the bedding damp. She rolled her head to the side to get a better look at the pair. The man was leaning one hand on a fireplace with an intent expression aimed at Henna. Henna was packing their sack on a small table in the middle of the room. From the sour taste in her mouth, Amelie guessed she'd poured some sort of healing liquid into her while she was half lucid.

Henna ceased her packing and squared her shoulders at the man.

"She saved your life today, nearly at the cost of her own. When she wakes, she will ask you for nothing. I will ask for something on her behalf. Spare hers. Tell no one of her actions and brush off the questions from those who witnessed it. Make it appear that the injury wasn't as bad as it was. If the queen gets to her, her life will be forfeit. I cannot tell you more. What you decide to do will have to rest on that information alone."

Amelie tried to sit up and the effort caused her to groan in exhaustion. Henna and the man's attention snapped to her.

"Not too soon, dearest," Henna said, coming to her and placing a concerned hand on Amelie's shoulder. She allowed herself to be pushed gently back onto the bed.

"Where are we?" Amelie whispered hoarsely. Her mouth was cotton.

"The home of a friend. We will be on our way soon. You need a few more hours of rest before my tonic restores some of your strength and takes the fever."

The man approached and loomed over her bed with his height. His eyes were alight with relief. He bent to one knee to bring his face closer to hers.

"You are all right?" Amelie asked with effort. "I got all of it?"

The man shook his head in amazement. "You are the one bedridden and you are asking after my injuries? I am in perfect health, thanks to you."

Amelie closed her eyes briefly and nodded. A small smile covered her mouth. The moonstone worked. "I'm glad."

"I shall not give you my name or ask for yours," the man continued. His eyes flicked to Henna before resting on Amelie again. "Your companion has warned me that the less we know of each other, the better it is for you. But know this - if you are ever in need, I am in your debt and will repay the favor."

"No," Amelie insisted. "I did not save you to curry favors. I meant only to help."

"She said you would not take payment. That is why I'm not granting a favor now. You save it when you find you need a friend. Come to the estate of Silver Ridge and ask for Bean. Everyone there knows me by that name and I am easily found. I will not turn you away, no matter the request."

“My thanks,” Amelie finally said, for it was clear this gentleman would not relent until she agreed. She sighed deeply and the man rose, satisfied.

“You are sure she will be well?” he asked. Henna muttered in annoyed tones which Amelie understood to mean that the question had already been asked. Perhaps repeatedly. Henna was not fond of repetition. The only time Amelie witnessed Henna’s patience thinning when dealing with the orphans was when she answered time and time again the same question.

“Quite well. If you please, sir.” Henna gestured towards the door.

With one last look in Amelie’s direction, the gentleman restored his hat to his head and exited.

Seth

Seth had sat in
on one of Candor's cabinet meetings before. Before King Byron met with his unnatural fate, he'd invited Seth to a meeting in good faith of the treaty and to make the introductions to the royal advisors. The meeting had been a boring affair with talk of the mundane that required little more than mindless signatures. In fact, his presence was the most debate the cabinet had seen in months.

"You enact a treaty without convening the cabinet?" one elder member questioned angrily at the news. Bastair, they'd called him. Remembering his place, he added a strained, "I think it unwise to make such a bold move without discussion, your Majesty."

King Byron didn't flinch. "The situation called for bold moves. The cabinet comes to many conclusions based on Amelie's intelligence. A delay could have meant her detainment or worse, her death." He leaned forward to look at Bastair with emphasis. "Despite her role, she is still a member of the royal family and you will do well to keep that in mind before you speak on it again."

Today, Seth sat in the space he'd occupied previously all those months ago when he’d witnessed King Byron’s revelation to the cabinet of the treaty. Two nights had passed since he emerged from his quarters to rejoin the living and his body punished him with stiff aches in his every movement. He smiled briefly at Claudia as she entered and stood in her father's place.

"This meeting is so called forth. Please be seated."

The eleven standing cabinet members took to their chairs and Seth eyed Claudia's hands as she set them on top of the table. Still nervous.

Sir Duncan sat to her right. He spoke up first. "The doctors have no news. Our king still sleeps, neither improving nor worsening."

Another elder, one whose name Seth couldn't remember jumped in. "We can't keep waiting. It's been nine months. Reports are coming in that Grantham is stirring. That kingdom is power hungry and word of this treaty has given them cause to act on it." Other members murmured their agreement, their voices creating a hum of worry.

"Which is why we shall speed up the union," Claudia said, raising her voice above the hum. "We need Draeden's full support, the sooner the better."

"Perhaps your Highness, we could move in a different direction," Bastair disagreed. "Let's go back to the way things were, preserve the separation."

Claudia stood, the action flexing her authority. Her statements were now were spoken down to the sitting, delivering a finality that reminded Seth of King Byron.

"My father has already caused ripples among the kingdoms with this treaty. King Armiss has agreed to proceed even with..." a steady breath. "Even with Amelie's demise. To lose Draeden's support at this critical time would not be ideal. Both kingdoms are at risk for breaking the treaty but Candor sits between Draeden and the rest of the kingdoms. It is our people that will be attacked."

"Well, if we're to enter a time of war, then the kingdom may feel much better prepared if a general sat on the throne," Bastair countered. "General Asher is only twice removed from King Byron, a cousin in the hillside with war training."

Claudia turned sharply to him, rage in her eyes. Sir Duncan spoke her thoughts.

"You speak treason, Bastair," he cautioned. "And so boldly, in front of the ruling royal."

Bastair snapped back. "What are we if not problem solvers to examine every angle? We are a cabinet of truths. I won't see this kingdom go down on ceremony. We must prepare for the king's death. We must install a ruler who can see us through this difficult time."

"I intend to do so," Claudia insisted firmly.

"You are but eighteen and recently so."

"The age of ascension." Claudia stood tall and the two challenged each other in their stares. Sir Duncan laid an easy hand on the slab of table, half rising. He looked around at the cabinet.

"Let's not make hasty judgments," he implored. "We trusted in our king and this is the path he set forth. He intended Princess Claudia to rule and while it may have come sooner than expected, we must have faith in his decisions and allow her to fulfill what was asked of her."

The members of the cabinet glanced at each other with doubtful eyes. Seth felt his muscles tighten. He didn't like the look of this.

"This meeting is concluded," Claudia announced. "We will convene in one week's time to begin wedding preparations. Grievances will be allowed in an individual audience at my discretion. Dismissed."

The cabinet members filed out one after the other and as soon as Sir Duncan shut the door behind him, Claudia collapsed in her chair as if the effort to stand was too heavy a load to bear. Her tired eyes met Seth's and he took the seat next to her, the one Sir Duncan vacated, and clasped her hand in his own. He brought it to his mouth for a kiss and while she looked as though she needed more, he hoped she was content enough with that.

But she was beautiful. Even with her tired eyes, she had a gentle calm about her that firmed impressively while addressing the wolves draped in the royal cabinet robes. Her long dark hair was swept away from her face and fell in ringlets down her back out of a tied ribbon. She squeezed his hand and smiled.

"I imagine your cabinet is not so fierce," she wagered.

"All cabinets are fierce in a time of uncertainty," Seth agreed. "It's what makes them valuable but equally dangerous."

"Your brother was most helpful on coaching me for this meeting. We’ve spent months waiting for my father to recover. I've never had to stand before them. I was terrified."

"You were brilliant. It looked as though you've stared them down a thousand times."

Claudia smiled wearily, but there was pride in it. "Prince Kernan's suggestion. Look each of them in the eye as I spoke, skipping none. He said it would make them more hesitant to speak against me because acknowledging their presence in such a way sheds any invisibility they may have felt sitting amongst a group."

"My brother is the expert on politics. Much more than I."

Claudia nodded. "I am glad he came. But you have many strengths to offer as well, Seth. This alliance is most helpful."

“I will do all I can,” Seth promised. “Their concerns are great. Treachery will feed on them. Gain support.” Seth didn’t speak Bastair’s name, though his mind filled with thoughts of the man. The greed was in his eyes. He’d wanted the throne for some time and this was the perfect time to strike. Claudia nodded knowingly. She was very aware.

“They honed in on my greatest weakness. I’m very inexperienced. If your brother hadn’t helped me, I would have crumbled at their arguments. I confess I barely know what I’m doing.”

Seth grinned. “You could have fooled me. You were wonderful.”

Claudia’s eyes grew distant. Wistful. “This wasn’t meant for me. It was Phillip who should be here.”

Phillip. Seth rarely heard that name spoken. He couldn’t help being drawn to memories of holding Amelie as she cried out for her older brother in her sleep. He tried to remain present in the moment.

“It seems wrong to speak ill of the dead, but sometimes I think it’s fitting she died. Everything she touched fell to ruin. I have no family now. And then I realize how evil it is to think that way of my sister and I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. The ache I have for her collapses my lungs.” Claudia’s eyes came back into focus and watered as she looked at Seth, her expression wide open with shock. “I can’t believe I just spoke this aloud.”

Seth squeezed her hand. “It’s grief that speaks, Claudia. You’re angry and you can’t satisfy it. It’s all right.”

“I think I just need to lie down for a bit. I exhaust easily these days.”

“Of course.”

Seth stood as she rose from the table and watched her leave the room.

Amelie

The garden at the
cottage was Amelie's favorite spot. It reminded her so much of the convent. Amelie always suspected it was Sister Patrice's dreaded chore. The woman never had a hair out of place on her righteous head and Amelie was sure the thought of dirt on her robes is what drove her to saddling the task to someone else.

Amelie hardly minded. She liked the sun on her face, the cool dirt on her fingers, tasting the berries fresh off the vines. She and Millie could stall out there, gossiping like regular palace girls as if they didn't have the threat of assassins hanging off them. They could pretend for a while to be normal. That the spade in their hands was simply a tool to break up hard patches of dirt and not something to be driven into the throat of a sudden adversary as an impromptu weapon.

She pulled several carrots that were ready for washing. With Serena in charge of making dinner at the hearth, Amelie was sure some scrutiny would pass from her lips before they were chopped and dropped in the stew. Missed specks of dirt or lack of growth or some fabricated observation was guaranteed to be voiced. The woman still disliked her and could hardly dismiss Amelie's worth to their efforts so she instead harped on everything else Amelie had a hand in.

"What are you doing?" a tiny voice asked.

Amelie turned and saw Crispin standing at the edge of the garden. She rocked back on her heels and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

"I'm pulling carrots, Crispin," she answered. "They're to be used for dinner tonight."

"May I have one?" he asked.

This child was eternally hungry. Amelie gestured to a water pail at the end of the row she was working on. "Bring that over here to clean it. But those who eat must also work," she added with a grin.

Crispin brought the pail and settled himself beside her, making quick work of pulling the carrots. "How many?" he asked, glancing to her small pile.

"For nine people, I'd say nine but since you are one of those nine, we'll say thirty," she teased, nudging him with her shoulder. Her jest was rewarded with the slightest of smiles before his face fell flat again.

They worked silently side by side for a time before a sudden exclamation interrupted their peace.

“Where is she?” she heard a frantic Henna ask.

“In the garden,” Simon answered from inside.

Amelie rose as Henna came down the back steps, arms swinging at her side with Simon close on her heels. Her eyes were bright with worry.

“How was the market?” Amelie asked, knowing whatever was troubling Henna was connected to that errand. Serena had accompanied Henna today. Amelie had not left Simon's realm since her healing escapade.

“They seek you,” Henna answered.

Simon's face hardened as he stood amongst the rows of carrots. Serena was content to watch from the back doorway. Her face was unreadable.

“Who seeks me?”

“The White Guard. Try as he might, the gentleman you rescued could not deflect attention from what happened. It was a very important lord you saved and you did so in the most curious of manners. My work before your birth already ensured your powers would be strong. The moonstone enhanced an already incredible power. No one has ever witnessed a scene like that at the fountain.”

Simon cursed under his breath.

“I couldn’t let him die,” Amelie said quietly.

“Of course not. I should have taken into account your nature before exposing you to the village. I just never thought something like that would happen.”

“Well, I’ll just stay here. I’ll stay hidden in the realm.”

Henna shook her head sadly. “The White Guard does not use their eyes to hunt, dear. They will no doubt seek you out with a feeler. He will be looking for healing powers specifically. He will sense you in this realm and wonder why he can’t find you. It will be only a matter of time before Simon is discovered.”

Simon sighed. “I will have to take her to the White Palace. I can’t let them nose around this place.”

Amelie looked at him in alarm. “The White Palace?”

“They will not stop hunting you," he replied in serious tones. "Best to go to them.”

Amelie raised her chin confidently. “I will go on my own. Simon is needed here. I do not fear the White Queen.”

“You should, stupid girl.” Serena’s voice was laced with exasperation and she came slowly down the back steps. “The queen rules all and eliminates those she cannot rule. You are half human. That alone is cause enough for your death. Simon is the one who let you in. His life may be in danger for it now.” Her eyes moved to her twin and lingered on him sadly. “I knew this was the risk you took. But it hurts that my warnings have come to pass, brother.”

"Simon, she doesn't have to know. I'll lie to her," Amelie pleaded desperately. The thought of harm coming to her friend at her expense frightened her.

Simon turned to face her.

"You will have to lie to her. She cannot discover this place or the orphans will surely die. But the only way into the White Forest is through a gatekeeper and I'm it. There’s only four of us and Arcos, Matthew, and Ulysses will not be able to claim you so. There's no point in hiding the fact that I'm the reason you're here."

Amelie pressed the thick of her palm to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. The lord she saved. She essentially traded one life for another. The lord's life for Simon's. Her stomach felt sick.

Simon reached up and pulled her hand away from her face. He lifted her chin to look at him, the most intimate touch he'd ever shared with her. "You don't need a Duncan to know what you're thinking." Amelie attempted a small smile. Duncan, the mind reading mage of the orphans. "We will come up with a story," Simon promised. "A reason I hid you. Don't worry about me."

Amelie drew away but gave him an encouraging nod. "Whatever I need to do to save you all, I will. I never meant to hurt anyone."

"We know, Amelie," Henna soothed. Serena harrumphed.

Amelie narrowed her eyes at the unfriendly mage. "If it comes down to me or your brother, know I will make sure it's me instead of him."

Serena narrowed her eyes back. "When you go before the White Queen, it won't be a matter of one or the other. She'll kill you both."