Blooms of Consequence (Dusk Gate Chronicles Book 4) (24 page)

He swallowed hard; he could have left that last sentence out for the time being. “Not all by yourself. You’re supposed to have help. That’s
why
Marcus is here.”

She looked at him, raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah, Quinn. That is kind of what you’re supposed to be doing. Judging from the look on Charles’ face a minute ago, I have a feeling that this might be at least part of his problem.”

The tent flap shook again, and then opened. First Ben, and then Marcus appeared in the opening, toting the saddlebags from Skittles and Dusk. They stacked them neatly close to the wall of the tent, making sure to not lean them against the material.

“Do you need help setting anything up, Princess?” Ben asked, and William couldn’t tell from his expression what kind of answer he was hoping for.

“No, we can handle it from here, but thank you,” Quinn said. “Are the tents set up for everyone now?”

“Yes.”

“Well done. It looks like our best bet is to stay under shelter until this passes. Can we make sure there is food in all the tents, in case this keeps us here overnight?”

“There are provisions in every bag,” Marcus said.

“Good. The two of you should take shelter now. We can talk more when this lets up.”

“Very well, milady. Thank you.”

William could hear them closing the entrance tightly after they exited, and he felt the tent move again as someone pulled hard on the lines securing it to the ground.

“Was that better?” Quinn asked, her voice small and wary.

“Hey,” he said softly, crawling over to her. “You’re learning on the job here. Nobody expects you to be perfect at it already.”

“Charles does.”

“I don’t know what he expects, Quinn, but he’s going to have to have some patience.”

“He’s not going to be the only one who expects the leader of a kingdom to know what she’s doing.” She buried her face in her hands.

“And you will. You’re going to be good at this, love. Just take the lessons as they come. Today’s lesson was to listen when your guards ask you to get inside.”

“Point taken.” She reached for the buttons on her soaking-wet shirt. William crawled over to the bag where their clothing was packed, grateful once again for the meticulous Mia who had tied everything neatly into bundles and covered them with waterproofed cloth. He dug out the small bundle of towels, and then searched until he found dry clothes for both of them. He carried them back to her. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said, tugging on her sleeve.

She was quiet as they worked together to get them both out of their wet clothes and into dry ones, and once he crawled just a few feet away again, he wouldn’t have been able to hear her over the pounding rain if she had spoken. He took out a length of thin rope and tried to rig a makeshift clothesline while she laid out the bedrolls. Both pairs of riding boots were hopelessly soaked, but he dried the outsides the best he could before stuffing some washcloths inside, hoping they’d absorb at least most of the moisture.

When they finally had everything arranged as best they could, he joined her over on the blankets, sitting down next to her, and wrapping one arm around her waist.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she said.

“What?” he asked, jerking his arm back.

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean
that.
” She took his arm and put it back where it had been, though this time she kept her hand over his.

Relieved, he smiled and kissed her forehead. “What, then?”

“Grab me like you did outside the tent. Order me around in front of them. Obviously, they’re already having enough trouble taking me seriously. I can’t... You can’t undermine me like that.” 

He couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped.

“You think that’s funny?”

“No, I don’t actually. I just... It’s good to hear you like this. You amaze me sometimes, Quinn – most of the time. I know you think you’re not doing a good job at this, but you are getting it so fast. You’re a true royal firstborn – it pours out of you all by itself sometimes. And you’re right. I can’t do anything like that in front of people ever again. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “You were only trying to help. I’m going to need your help learning this stuff. The customs, the etiquette, what I should let other people do, and what I should do myself.”

“I’ll help with what I can. I’m afraid you married the wrong one for some of it. They should have worked harder to set you up with Thomas – or at least one of my brothers who actually grew up in the castle. I’ve always been exempt from half the rules myself.”

“You think Thomas would have actually been able to get me into the tent and listening to him a few minutes ago?”

He frowned.

“First of all, Will, you’re the one that I want.” She turned and put her hand on his cheek. “I love Thomas – I love all of your brothers – but you’re the only one I would have ever considered marrying.”

He smiled, and brought her hand to his lips. “I know. I was just teasing you.”

“Good. Second of all, you underestimate yourself. Thomas can talk to anyone – he charms everyone, gets them to talk to him, they’ll share their secrets while he listens. But you... People
listen
to you. You don’t speak as often, but if you suggest something, people do it, including me, usually. I know you’re taking on a lot and that you would do it all just for me ... but I don’t think it’s just because of me. I think that in the end, you’re going to find that you’re in your right place, too.”

He smiled. “I wish I was as sure about me as I am about you… but I kind of like the place I’m in right now.”

She followed his gaze around the small tent, this little world with just the two of them, the rain pounding down so hard that nobody could possibly hear anything outside the tent, and she smiled back.

IT WAS THE SILENCE that woke her. That and the soft yellow light that was starting to color the eastern wall of the tent. She opened her eyes without moving; William’s arm was across her chest, heavy and warm. For several minutes she watched him sleep. He looked so relaxed, peaceful – she wondered if she ever looked like that, even when she was asleep. She was sure she hadn’t lately.

His eyes were still closed when she felt his thumb slowly stroking her shoulder. After several minutes, he opened them and smiled. “Morning.”

“Hey.”

He kissed her gently, before pulling them both up and out of the blankets. “When did the rain stop?”

“It couldn’t have been very long ago,” she said, stretching and shaking her head. “Every time I woke up during the night it was still pouring.”

He frowned, probably at her admission that she hadn’t slept well, but then he nodded, already crawling across the tent for their clothes. There wasn’t going to be time to dawdle, whether she’d slept or not. She dressed quickly in the heavy brown pants and tan shirt he handed her.

“Don’t forget this,” he said, pointing to the leather sheath that concealed a small dagger.

“We’re in the middle of the woods. I’m just going to talk to Marcus.”

“Exactly. We’re in the middle of the woods, in an area that is unfamiliar to us, and you’re going to talk to Marcus – who would be upset if you didn’t have it. This is where you practice being the leader and listening to your guards.”

“Right.” She stretched out her leg so he could lift the bottom of her pants and secure the leather straps to her calf.

“I’ll get everything in here packed and ready while you go talk to him,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Hey,” he called, as she started unfastening the bindings of the door.

She turned to look at him.

“You can do this.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

He stopped what he was doing and came over to her. “You can, Quinn. But I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

He took her hand and pulled it up to his lips. “I love you.”

She leaned in close and kissed him. “Can’t I just stay in here and snuggle with you?”

“I would like nothing better, but...”

She sighed. “I know. I love you, too.”

Outside, she was relieved to find that only Marcus was up, stoking a small fire. He looked up as she approached him. “Would you like some tea, Princess?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He nodded, and set about pulling the small kettle from the coals while she sat down on a tarp-covered log that he’d pulled close to the fire circle.

Just as she was sitting down, she thought she heard a sound – maybe a twig snapping or something a few yards away from them. At first, she thought she might have imagined it, but Marcus stood and looked around, scanning the whole area for several seconds before he went back to his task.

Quinn listened again for a minute before she decided to speak. “Marcus?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Is there a title I should be calling you, other than just Marcus?”

His smile was warm, almost fatherly, and she immediately felt more comfortable.

“No, milady, just Marcus.”

“I know the titles and formalities are important to you, and I’m doing my best to try and get used to it, but this is a learning process for me.”

“You’re doing just fine.”

“Thank you. I know there are a lot of things I’m getting wrong.” She paused, debating whether to bring up something that had occurred to her during the night – not knowing if the mere question would upset him.
No,
she told herself ...
you have to learn to be in charge
.
That means you deal with your concerns.
“But I’ve actually been wondering a bit about everyone calling me ‘Princess’.”

“What about it?” Ben’s voice startled her – she hadn’t even heard him coming up behind her. He must have been what had made the noise earlier.

“
That,
” she said. “The fact that we don’t know who might be out here, who might overhear us at any time. Is it really safe to be calling me anything that might give away information we don’t really want to be sharing?”

“She’s right, Father,” Ben said, coming to kneel beside the fire. When Marcus finished pouring water from the kettle into two metal mugs, Ben reached for a nearby water container to refill it.

“Yes. It’s a very good point, milady,” Marcus said. “Be careful with this now; it’s hot.” He stretched across the circle to set a steaming metal mug on the ground in front of her. Carrying a cup of his own, he retreated to a large rock. “What are you suggesting we call you, then?”

“Just Quinn would be fine with me, at least while we’re traveling.”

Both men looked uncomfortable. “How about Lady Quinn?” Ben asked. “It’s an appropriate title for a guest of the castle or even a lesser princess, which you would be anyway by virtue of your marriage to Prince William.”

“I can live with that.”

“Fair enough, Lady Quinn,” Ben said, the edges of his mouth almost quirking up into a smile.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of William exiting their tent. He smiled, but walked in the opposite direction from them, into the thick trees. Very soon, she was going to have to take a similar trip, but she could wait a bit longer. “What is the status of everything after last night’s storm?” she asked. “Was anything damaged?”

“No, there’s been no damage, milady. At least not to anything other than our progress at traveling.”

She nodded. “We should get back on the trail as soon as possible this morning. How far are we from Cloud Valley now?”

“Not far enough.” This time the voice that was much too close to her ear was unfamiliar. Her blood ran cold as Marcus and Ben rose instantly, both pulling swords from the sheaths that hung on their belts.

 A scream caught in her throat as a hand wrapped around her upper arm, but Ben was fast. She wasn’t sure how he got around the fire so quickly – he might have stepped over it – but an instant later she was behind him, away from the man who had grabbed her. She backed up quickly until she was sandwiched between Ben and Marcus.

The fair-haired man on the other side of the fire circle was well-built and imposing; the sharply shaved edges of his close-cropped beard somehow made him even more intimidating. But although the firm lines of his muscles were visible through his linen shirt, his stance and the inelegant hold he had on the hilt of his sword betrayed his lack of training and skill. He was no match for either Marcus or Ben.

Or he wouldn’t have been, by himself. A movement in the trees behind the man alerted her to the fact that he wasn’t alone. She surreptitiously nudged Ben with her elbow. His head didn’t move, but she saw his eyes sweep the perimeter of their campsite.

“Five,” he breathed.

How Marcus could communicate without moving or changing his expression at all, she would never know, but she saw him acknowledge the information.

 Suddenly the weight of the leather sheath on her leg was comforting, as was the knowledge that she’d have no problem hitting her mark at this distance if she needed to – not that she wanted to. She couldn’t stop staring at the man; something about him was familiar, although she had no idea why. She was almost certain she didn’t know him.

“What are you doing here?” the man asked, at the same time she heard one of the tents rustling and someone stepping out. She didn’t look to see who it was.

“We’re just passing through,” Marcus said, his voice completely level. “Who are you?”

The man shook his head. “You first.”

“Weston Cook.” Everyone turned at the sound of Nathaniel’s voice. Two of the men in the trees moved forward, drawing knives; she noted with relief that the man who’d tried to grab her was the only one who had a sword.

Nathaniel stepped away from his tent and walked down toward the fire. He moved casually, seeming relaxed, but she saw the wariness in his eyes. He nodded at Marcus and Ben, and then stepped toward the man.

“Doctor Rose?” The man frowned, looking carefully at all of them.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“What are you doing out here? What is all of this?”

“These are my friends; we were on our way to Eli’s clinic in Cloud Valley last night when we got caught in a rainstorm. We don’t mean harm to you. Could you and your friends put away your weapons?”

The man – Weston Cook – relaxed his hold on the hilt of his sword, but didn’t let go. Now that she had a name, she realized that the man was, indeed, familiar to her. His daughter –
Katie,
she thought her name was, had been treated in the Cloud Valley clinic for shadeweed poisoning the last time Quinn had visited there.

William must have been waiting in the trees for an opportunity to move in safely, because he came running into the clearing just then, coming to stand right next to her. “Mister Cook?”

Weston turned to look at him. “Prince William?”

“Yes, it’s me. How is your little girl – Katie, right?”

The man relaxed a little more, taking a step closer. None of the others came out of the trees, though. “Yes, that’s right. She is doing well – no thanks to whoever is planting shadeweed around these parts and trying to poison our children.”

“Well, it isn’t us, Weston, if that’s what you’re thinking, though I don’t blame all of you for being concerned when you find intruders out here. We want nothing more than to put a stop to it ourselves.” Nathaniel said.

“But that’s not why you’re here, is it? You didn’t come out here to put a stop to it.”

“Directly? No. We have reason to believe that the source of the poisoning is coming from Philotheum.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “We know it is, or at least some of us do. Though there are some who believe someone in the kingdom is doing it to our own citizens.”

“I think that’s what Hector and Tolliver want us to believe.”

“What we don’t understand is why Stephen isn’t doing anything about this situation in Philotheum.”

“He is, Weston. He’s closed the borders.”

“And what is that accomplishing, except preventing some of us from traveling and being with our families? And escalating a battle between our kingdoms? He could end this and restore peace.”

“What do you want to see happen, Weston? The king hand off his daughter to Tolliver – give in to Hector’s demands?”

“It would solve the problem.”

“Would it?” Quinn asked, fighting back her anger at his callous statement. “Do you really think that would be the end of Tolliver, if he thought Stephen was so weak?”

“Who are you?” Weston asked.

“Lady Quinn,” she said. “We met once before, when I visited the clinic in Cloud Valley with Prince William and Nathaniel.”

The sound of a snapping twig distracted her, and she looked over in time to see two more people stepping out of the trees, a man and a woman.

“Lady Quinn?” the woman said.

Quinn looked at her. She was a young woman, maybe a few years older than Quinn herself. She had light brown hair and brown eyes. Her clothes and demeanor suggested that being in the woods and carrying a weapon like the knife at her belt wasn’t new to her. The way the man’s body moved with hers told her that they were a couple.

The man, actually, was much more muscular, and moved with more skill than Weston. She wondered why Weston was the spokesman for their group, when there were clearly members who were more qualified.

“Do I know you?” Quinn asked.

“We’ve never met,” the woman answered. “But I know who you are. My name is Eloise Bennett, and this is my husband, Gene. We have a son, Elliott. He is being cared for right now by Gene’s brother. I believe you met him.”

Quinn sucked in a breath. “About seven cycles old?”

“Yes. My sister-in-law tells me you saved his life, pulling him out of that tree house – that you even injured yourself in the process.”

“I don’t know if it was that big of a deal, Mrs. Bennett…”

“Eloise, please. I’ve been hoping ever since I heard that I would have the chance to meet you. I don’t have the words to tell you how grateful I am – we both are,” she said, looking at her husband, who nodded.

“We think it’s a big deal,” Gene said.

She looked at him. “Your sister-in-law told me that you two were in Philotheum…”

“We were. We’ve only recently returned.”

“Why?” she asked, more than a little suspicious. “What were you doing there? Are you
from
Philotheum?”

Eloise glanced at her husband, and then over at Weston. He shook his head, but the woman shrugged, almost defiantly before reaching up to the collar of her shirt and drawing it back.

She heard Marcus’ sharp intake of breath when the tattoo came into view. “You’re taking a very big risk showing us that.”

Weston’s hand was on his sword again.