Allegra's Dream (Avador Book 4, a Books We Love Fantasy Romance) (7 page)

A slow darkness descended on Fomoria, and once again, he sought a tavern where he and his horse could rest and find sustenance. As he searched among the isolated villages for a reputable place, another fit of coughing overcame him, a weakness that consumed his body.

A long time passed before he found rest for himself and the mare. Leaving his horse at the stable, he tossed a coin to the stableboy and headed for the inn, a short walk away. When he reached the dining room, he sank into a chair, feeling as if he had aged twenty years. After a meal of mutton stew and rye bread, he plodded up the stairs. Upon reaching his room, he flopped onto the bed, reluctant to rise again and remove his boots. Countless minutes passed before he could summon the energy to sit up and pull his boots off. Falling back on the bed, he fell asleep immediately.

Coughing during the night, he suffered a restless sleep. In the morning, he forced himself to rise, too well aware he still had several letters to deliver. He felt a bit warm but disregarded that infirmity; best he get going.

At the end of the day, he found another tavern, all letters delivered, his task completed. He sighed with a chore well done, wishing only that he felt better. He left his horse at the stable and headed for his room, his appetite gone. His teeth chattered, his skin burning. A terrible fit of coughing seized him; his chest hurt like fury. Every breath became an effort.

The following morning, he heard a knock on the door. Too sick to answer, he turned over and drew his covers around him. The knock sounded again. Wanting to blot out the sound, he hoped the person would go away.

“Sir?”

If only he could talk, tell her to go away! Leave me alone, he wanted to tell her. Just let me sleep.

The door opened and a young woman stepped inside. “Sir, I came to make your bed and leave you a fresh pitcher of water.”

He turned over and stared at her, his skin on fire, the room spinning.

“Sir, are you sick?”

Unable to speak, he waved his hand dismissively. Silent moments passed before she left the fresh pitcher of water and exited the room.

Days passed, days in which one of the maids brought him thick, creamy chicken soup and ale, keeping her distance from him, setting his meal on a table beside his bed.

Aware he needed to eat, he forced himself to sit up and take a few bites. Then he sank back down, exhausted. He lost track of the time, noting only the sun rising in the morning, the sky darkening at night.

One day, a doctor came to his room and gave him willow bark tea for his fever, a so-called remedy that had no effect. His illness worsened. The doctor came in succeeding days, strengthening his dosage of willow bark tea. Talmora’s tits, he wished he were back in Avador, with its skilled doctors who combined medicine with magic.

On the fifth day, or was it the sixth? the doctor helped him sit up in bed, a movement so agonizingly painful he gritted his teeth. Why hadn’t he done that the first day? Rowan agonized. Wearing an expression of concern, the doctor tapped his back several times, then his chest. “Sir, you have an illness of the lungs. Rest is most important, but time will tell when you recover.” Or if you will recover, Rowan silently added. “There’s no more I can do,” the doctor said as he left the room.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, while ephemeral dreams floated through his head.

He held his arms out to Allegra. As she ran to him, he enfolded her in his arms, delighting in her womanly curves. Traveling to the Otherworld, he saw his wife. “Fenella!” But as he approached her, she held him off. “Rowan, it is not your time. Go to Allegra!’

For days without count, he lay in bed, lingering between life and death.

Chapter Nine

“He’s not coming back.” Allegra stood by the window, looking in the direction from which Rowan always rode to the palace. She twisted her hands together and prayed to Arridano, the god of travelers, as she had never prayed before. She tapped the windowsill, as if she could hasten Rowan’s return. Please, please bring him back to me.

Elsa set her book on a table and looked in the princess’s direction. “My lady, any number of things could have detained him. Possibly his horse had an accident.” The maid, unaware of Rowan’s purpose in riding to Fomoria, knew only that he had traveled on a mission.

Allegra turned back to her maid, her eyes filling with tears. She pressed her hand to her heart. “No, I feel it here. Something tells me–I know!–he won’t return.” She scrubbed at her face as the tears fell. Only now did she realize how much she loved him. Of course, there could never be any lasting happiness between them, but she couldn’t deny the ache in her heart. She looked out the window again, as if she expected Rowan to come riding to the palace any minute. She blamed herself for entrusting him with all her missives. What if someone had caught him and discovered the letters? His life would be forfeit, her plan exposed. She pictured a member of the war party capturing him and reading the letters. Torturing him to force him to betray her whereabouts! She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. He must not suffer harm!

No, her imagination was running away from her. This kind of thinking won’t get you anywhere.

An idea came to her, and her mood brightened. “I’m going to ride to Moytura, see if the Minister of State has any information.”

“My lady! You can’t just ride off to the capital! What if someone recognizes you?”

She faced her maid. “Who in the world would recognize me? Very few people know who I am or why I’m here.” She nodded with assurance. “This is what I intend to do. Even the Minister of State has never seen me, doesn’t know what I look like.”

“Then why would he tell you anything?” she countered. “This trip that may well endanger you, no matter what you say, will surely be a waste of time.”

Allegra stamped her foot. “Anything is better than waiting around, not knowing what has happened to Rowan,” she said, heading for her bedroom. And if the footman tried to stop her this time, she’d push him out of the way.

Elsa followed her. “My lady, what are you doing?”

She turned around. “I’m going to change into a more suitable dress, then go to the stable and have the boy saddle a horse for me. It’s not far to the capital.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Elsa said, apparently giving up.

“Elsa! You can barely stay in the saddle. Remember when we had to leave Elegia.”

“We were galloping then. Let’s hope we ride at a more leisurely pace this time.”

“And we’ll ride side saddle this time,” Allegra added. She raised her hands, then dropped them in surrender. “Very well, then. We’ll ride together.”

Shortly after, they set out on the road to Moytura, the day warm with a slight breeze. Allegra smiled at her good fortune, for the footman had been nowhere in sight as they left the palace. They kept the horses at a canter past farm fields, the rich soil burgeoning with late spring growth. A few wispy clouds drifted by on a day bright with sunshine. Allegra continually looked from one side of the road to the other, taking in all the sights. She’d never seen so much farmland, acres and acres full of crops, so different from her own country, with all its forests.

When they reached Moytura, she gazed about in surprise. Just look at all the people! She hadn’t expected such a large city with its many shops and other buildings, so full of men, women, and children, going here, going there, on what business she had no idea. Sounds and aromas filled the air, vendors hawking meat patties, sweet cakes, and fruits. Wide-eyed, she watched a pet monkey perform tricks, but her fascination soon turned to pity for the helpless animal.

She didn’t know where the Ministry of State was located, but Elsa’s inquiry of a bystander sent them in the right direction, and it took but a few minutes to reach the Hall of State. The building was truly impressive, its sarsen stone gleaming in the bright sunshine. Other buildings that looked just as important flanked the Hall of State in this part of the city, profuse with trees, bushes, and spacious lawns. They dismounted and tied the horses’ reins to the low branch of an oak, then followed the stone walkway to the building’s entrance. 

Once inside, Allegra realized she was just as lost as when she’d entered the city. Several doors led off from a wide marble floor, with officious looking people entering or leaving the rooms. As a man left a room and walked across the hall, Allegra approached him. “Sir, tell me where to find the Minister of State.”

He frowned. “Madam, do you have an appointment?”

Her heart sank, but she rallied. “No, but it’s very important that I talk to him.”

A cynical look captured his face. “That’s what they all say.” He sighed. “Very well. Wait and I’ll check with him.”

Chairs lined the hall, and Allegra and Elsa sat, Allegra’s gaze covering the vast hall.  Bright sunlight poured in through the tall wide windows. But for overcast days, she noted the many iron sconces along the wall, the candles appearing to be finely made, and no doubt, sweet smelling.

To her surprise, the man returned shortly. “Madam, Donat Fand will see you in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

Fearing a long wait, despite his encouraging words, Allegra was gratefully surprised to see a man approach them soon after. “Come this way, madam.”

“You wait here,” she said to Elsa, then followed the man down a side hallway. He opened a door for her, and she stepped inside.

The Minister stood at her entrance and indicated a chair, then sat back down. “Madam, how can I help you?” Tall and thin, with graying hair, he looked to be in his fifties. Clad in a green tunic and brown trousers, he wore a gold pendant, similar to Rowan’s. Ah, Rowan, I miss you so very much.

Allegra sat, mentally forming her question and deciding that the direct approach was best.

She fought for composure, an agony of worry about Rowan. Would the minister believe her? “Sir, what can you tell me about Rowan Leinster? When will he return?”

He gasped and drew back. “Madam, what do you know about Rowan Leinster? And what do you mean in reference to his returning?”

She leaned closer and spoke to him in low tones, even though she and the minister were the only ones present. “Sir, I am Princess Allegra of Fomoria and–“

”Madam! What are you talking about? You mustn’t jest.” He stood. “I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

She remained in her chair. “Sir, I assure you I am the princess. Quite some time ago, I gave Rowan Leinster letters to deliver to certain people in my country.” She gave him a sharp look. “You know this, and I know that you know. Rowan . . , Leinster told me he had to check with you first about the mission.” She sat back, hands folded in her lap. “Please don’t tell me you don’t know about this.”

Looking worried, the minister returned to his seat. “Madam, if what you tell me is true–and I have no reason to doubt you–then surely you know you have put your life in danger by coming here.”

“Sir, who knows my identity?” She indicated her clothes. “You see how plainly I’m dressed, no silks, no jewels. But please answer my question, my very purpose for coming here. What have you heard from Rowan Leinster? If he has returned, he hasn’t contacted me.” She held her breath, clenching her hands in her lap. Rowan, please come back to me.

A look of sadness crossed his face. “My lady, I haven’t heard a thing since he left, many days ago.  I fear . . .” He bit his lip.

She sat forward in her chair. Her heart thudded against her ribs. “Yes, what?”

“I pray to the Goddess that nothing has harmed him. But I expected him back days ago.” He shook his head. “Obviously something has detained him. I only wish I knew what.”

* * *

First knocking on the door but receiving no answer, Doreen turned the knob and entered the widow’s quarters. A pile of freshly-laundered clothes in her hands, she walked from room to room, surprised no one was about. Truly odd, she thought; she couldn’t recall a time when neither the lady nor her maid was here.

In the lady’s bedroom, she pulled out a drawer of the clothes chest. The aroma of lavender floated her way as she set the underclothes in the drawer. Pushing clothes aside, she found a bottle of perfume and dabbed a bit behind her ears and on her wrists. She smoothed her hand over a linen shift edged with lace, wishing she had such lovely things. Lifting a silk stocking, she let it slide from one hand to another. With no one else here, curiosity tempted her. She eased out a drawer at the top, finding a small silver box inside. She raised the lid and gasped–jewels! More jewels than she had ever imagined–rings, bracelets, necklaces. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to own all these gems! Tempted to grab a ring, she resisted the urge. Her mother had always taught her honesty. Besides, if a ring went missing, suspicion would fall on all the servants.

She closed the box and then the drawer, continually listening for any sound. The lady and her maid might return at any moment. She opened another top drawer and found something that looked like a crown. She searched her mind for the word–tiara! Why would a widow own a tiara? She didn’t know a thing about rich people except that they had lots of money, she thought with an attempt at humor.

Her eyes caught something she’d missed–an envelope that lay under the tiara. She picked up the envelope and withdrew the letter, the parchment crackling. The letter was addressed in her own language, to Princess Allegra. Princess! How could that be? No one had told any of the servants that this lady was a princess. And a princess from where?