Heart of Stone (19 page)

31.

Henri

En Route to find Sophie, Gemmes

Henri had never ridden in a gypsy wagon. Obviously. He was a baker’s apprentice and had never wandered farther than his own little valley. No reason had ever presented itself.

Until now.

              His love for Sophie pushed him beyond his comfort zone, pushed him to ask Emel for a ride in her new wagon, and forced him to take the literal reigns of his life. It was harder than he thought it would be.

              “So,” Emel began, “we seem to be a bit off track….” She smiled at him nervously.

She smiled a lot, Henri realized, smiling back at her. Emel’s smile made him think of Sophie’s scowl. Fearing Emel might get the wrong idea, Henri stopped looking at her smile altogether. Looking ahead, he tried to remember when exactly they lost their way.

              “I’m not trying to be rude,” Henri began.

“Which is what people say before they say the rude thing,” Emel pointed out.

              “Right, but I mean, aren’t you a
diseuse de bonne aventure
, someone able to see the future, a fortune teller? I thought you could take us where we need to go?”

              “Ughh.” Emel whined. She was like Sophie in that regard, at least. “I’m still an apprentice. Miora wasn’t supposed to die so soon. It would be like the Head Baker requesting you to make, ummmm … what’s a fancy baking thing?”

              “Macaroons.”

              “Right. Me knowing everything about stone reading and
divination
would be like you making macaroons. It doesn’t work that way. I’m learning, but I have a lot more to discover.” Emel frowned, and then rubbed her eyes. “You must think I am absolutely ridiculous.”

              “Not ridiculous, perhaps a tad misleading. When we left in the wagon, you seemed quite sure of where we were headed. Perhaps we should have asked Beznik to come along.”

              Henri would never forget the giant fight between Emel and her parents when she told them her plans to give Henri a ride in her wagon. They reacted as if she suggested going off with a marauder, carrying a miner’s pickaxe. Brutal. Henri tried to stay in the fray, not get in their argument, but Emel dragged him in it.

Awkward to say the least.

Henri convinced them that he wasn’t a
corsier
or a fiend or even a madman by giving them the croissants he had in his bag. Croissants. Once fed, Emel told them the stones told her
she had to
take him. They didn’t argue with that. Although, for the record, her parents and Beznik didn’t actually know that part was a lie.

Now the pair found themselves lost in the King’s Montagne.

“Why don’t we take a break? I’m tired. Let’s have some food, and maybe some notion will come to you,” Henri said tightly. He wasn’t angry, exactly. Henri never was downright angry. But irritated? Yes. He was definitely irritated.

Henri jumped off the wagon, to cool off, petting the horse that had done the hard work. He kind of wanted to yell at Emel. She practically told him she was a psychic, now she couldn’t get them out of the woods.

“Could you start a fire? I’ll go in the wagon and get the food for us.” Clearly she felt the tension between them. Before she turned to the wagon she continued. “And, Henri? I’m sorry for getting us lost. I didn’t mean to get huffy with you and the macaroons. I feel quite stupid, really. I wanted to impress you. I know how silly that was.”

Henri couldn’t believe it. Emel apologized, he couldn’t remember Sophie ever owning anything she did or said. Henri grinned in relief; it felt good knowing exactly how someone felt. He hated to compare, but Sophie would never tell him how she felt– she was the epitome of ice queen.

“It’s alright, Emel. Maybe you’ll have inspiration when you go inside. I’ll look for some wood, okay?”

Emel nodded at him, her shoulders relaxed, and a sigh of happiness audibly escaped from her lips.

“Alright, I will go look in my crystal ball, deal?”

Henri knew she liked him, and though he had eyes for another girl, he saw in her a tenderness. He wanted to keep her safe.

Henri walked into the forest as the day turned to night and his stomach rumbled. They needed to scrounge together the makings of a meal. Tall trees fifty feet high loomed above him, needles and dead leaves littered the floor of the woodlands. Leaves rustled as little critters skittered.

He bent over to get some kindling from broken branches in the quiet, save for the brittle wood snapping in two with his hands.

The summer sun shone across the dirt road where they rode all day, but a few yards off the beaten path, he found shade from the heat. He breathed in deeply, wondering why he had never left the Valley before. Sophie always asked him to, but he always shook his head, said no to her request, determined that there was enough adventure in their village.

Now, seeing trees stretching past forever and the enormous breadth of the Montagne … he changed his mind. If he spent all the days of his life trying there would still never be enough time to soak this all in. The idea of returning to the bakery Sophie-less made him shake his head. Sophie wanted to go, and rightly so. He wished he’d gone with her and avoided all this mess.

Holding an armful of sticks, plenty for a campfire, Henri turned to go. In the corner of his eye he saw a thin trail of smoke from between the trees. Squinting he tried to see through the branches, and it was as he thought, a small cottage nestled in the middle of the deep forest.

He walked toward it, his shirt catching on branches as he moved, but he didn’t notice. He felt pulled toward this little home. Perhaps the owners could help them find the path toward the North Montagne, where Beznik took Sophie.

After making his way to the wooden door, he lifted his hand to knock. As his hand connected to the grain, a scream came from the wagon.

Emel.

He turned, confused to see her running toward him, shouting at him to stop, just as the door swung open wide.

A harmless looking woman, with long braided hair and a wiry frame, spoke gently, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Henri motioned toward Emel to come forward, but the fortuneteller drew back, shaking her head no.

32.

Tamsin

Provence de Frontiere, Gemmes

She had told Rémy that someone would be coming.

She felt it in her bones, in the air. The shift she felt when she gave Tristan another clue closer to his
Trésor de L’espoir
, was the same feeling she had now.

              So when she opened the door to this gentle looking young man, she wasn’t surprised, thought she never had a clue show up on her doorstep like this before. Tristan always came searching for the next direction. This was different, this boy, a boy who must be connected to the girl she was after, came directly to her.

              She jerked her head out of the house upon hearing a cry from the woods. She didn’t expect the Hedge Riders to return, ever. Her deepest fear at the moment was that she hadn’t properly protected her cottage with incantations. The King’s Légion was after her.

She had murdered the king, after all.

She wasn’t safe now, and wouldn’t be safe again. She forfeited her dream of living her days in the Hedge the moment she showered the king with her potion, rendering him void of a soul. Void of life.

Rendering him dead.

              The boy called back toward the scream, “Emel! What is it? I’m getting us help!”

              Tamsin swallowed, it was a girl. Not the king’s men. She was safe. For now.

              “Come in child. Come in and have supper.” Tamsin spoke gently, longing to understand the connection between the boy and the Princess.

              “Henri, it’s not safe here. We must go. Now!” The girl was now on the path to Tamsin’s cottage, and she grabbed the boy’s hand trying to drag him away with her.

              Tamsin eyed her quickly, and realized she was a
Bohème
girl. Instantly she felt a heat pass between them. This girl was divine. A
devins-guérisseur
much like her, but so different.

She was of the old world. From pure magic. Magic not able to conjure other realms. Invoking darkness was beyond her abilities.

Tamsin knew this girl sensed the dark magic. Which is why she cried, warning the boy. Warning the boy against her. Tamsin was now firmly planted on the dark side, even if all she wanted was to be pure. She shriveled inside at the realization that she had become the enemy. She was the threat.

“It’s alright, I swear unto you. We want the same thing.”

The girl tugged at the boy’s arm, who stood motionless, confused at her cries.

“What is it, Emel? She offered us dinner and we need directions. Are you wary of people unlike you?” He spoke softly, with care.

“No. I’m not wary of people who are different than me. I am wary of her. She’s bad. She’s a dark magic-maker. We shouldn’t be here.”

“Are you sure?” He didn’t appear to take the girls claim seriously. He cocked his head to the side with a raised brow, giving Tamsin the opening she was looking for.

“It’s true; I make magic. I’m a healer, but I’m good soul. Many bad forces lurk in the woods, but not I, surely you know that, my dear.” Tamsin tried to dismiss Emel’s claims.

She wouldn’t take the bait.

“No. Henri, I saw it in my crystal ball.” The girl urged her friend in a near whisper. Tamsin leaned forward to catch each word. “I swear it.”

Henri looked at Emel, clearly not taking heed to her warnings.

“Emel, now is not the time to try and impress me. I didn’t mean to mock your abilities earlier. I believe you will be greater than Miora one day, but for now, let us allow this woman to help us.” Henri beamed sweetly, albeit a tad condescending for Tamsin’s taste.

“You don’t understand,” Emel’s eyes filled with watery tears and Tamsin watched nervously as the two strangers stood debating her merits on her own front porch.

“Just allow me one meal here, then we can go on our merry way,” Henri said with a satisfying smile.

“I feel like I don’t know you at all, Henri,” the girl said.

“You don’t.”

He didn’t say it rudely, but it felt, to Tamsin, that a thread they didn’t entirely understand connected these two. That perhaps neither was as the other imagined.

The girl nodded, not begrudging the boy for disagreeing.

“So you will stay for dinner, then?” Tamsin asked, opening the door wide for them to both enter.

Rémy snored loudly on the couch, a result of Tamsin’s strong antidote for his cough. She’d perfected it and he no longer coughed blood or shards of stone. He was improving.

Of course, their screaming argument after the king’s death helped wear him out as well.

All the windows were swung open to let the summer air in the house. Tamsin summoned the good ambiances at her fingertips. Tension in the house rose high enough to fill the king’s vault.

“Supper, then? I have a beet salad, roasted chicken….” Tamsin ticked off the list as the two guests walked nervously into the house, absorbing the newness of the space.

“Sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Tamsin and that gentleman, over there snoring, is Rémy. This is my tiny cottage in the woods. I rarely get any visitors so this is quite a surprise.” Tamsin wiped her hands anxiously on her apron.

“I’m Henri,” the boy moved toward her, extending his hand to shake hers. “And this is Emel.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Henri said, looking at Emel, who bit her lip with darting eyes, clearly uncomfortable in this space she deemed unsanctioned by her crystal ball. “We’re lost. We were in the
Vallee
, trying to make it to the North Montagne … but we became a bit turned upside down. It would be grand if you helped us right ourselves up a bit.”

He had bright eyes, clearly an easygoing fellow. Tamsin thought he’d drive Tristan crazy with his optimism.

“Of course I will help you.” Tamsin began dishing plates of food for her guests and set them on her small table, “Sit, and eat, please, and tell me what two young folk like yourself are doing so far from home?”

Rémy stirred from the couch and Tamsin turned from the table to put on the teakettle to make him another elixir. She tried not to appear desperate to understand the connection with Henri and busied herself instead.

“Oh, well we have a friend in the North. We wanted to go visit her,” Henri said. Tamsin saw Emel kick him from under the table. A grimace shot across his face as he scowled at the girl.

“Well, that’s lovely. It is a good time of year to travel. The roads are good. Clear at least. The winters can be so dreadful up this high.” She poured the tea for Rémy. “I’m giving this tea to my friend, but keep eating, I‘ll be back.”

Tamsin carried the mug to Remy, leaving the children to eat. The girl bent over the table quickly and began whispering to the boy. Shaking her worries off, Tamsin leaned over Rémy, propping his back with a pillow. “Here’s another tea for you.”

With Remy propped up on the couch, and Tamsin’s back turned from the table, there was a brief moment where they spoke without listening ears.

Rémy looked wearily at the guests. “Tamsin, what are you doing now? What if they’re spies?”

             
“I don’t know what they are, but I know they aren’t spies. I have a feeling, Remy. They’re connected to the girl. The one who was with Tristan.”

Rémy closed his eyes, her words obviously made him unhappy.

“Tamsin, I can’t get into this with you again. I’m here because I can’t leave. I am an accomplice to the king’s murder.” His voice was quiet, but the anger still pierced through. “And whatever
magie noire
you’ve done, you must stop meddling. You think you made a mistake by following the king’s orders seventeen years ago? What else could you have done that night? Stop punishing yourself. Let the idea of saving the girl go.”

It was the same fight they’d had earlier, after the Hedge Riders left to lay to rest the man and beast slayed by the king’s orders. Rémy wanted to understand, and Tamsin had to give him credit for trying.

The part that destroyed her was knowing the reason he stayed was because he couldn’t leave. If he tried to go, the King’s Légion would find him and charge him with treason. Order him to die. Tamsin blamed herself that he was mixed up with this at all. It hadn’t been his choice yet he was forced to remain a prisoner in the cottage.

“Tristan will come back here; I know he will.” Tamsin tried to convince them both. Things would be different if I hadn’t ruined everything with the Hedge.”

She should have sacrificed her life years ago, avoided all of this. Refused to help the king. If only everything had been different.

They heard the chairs screech against the hardwood floor, and Tamsin stood with a fake smile plastered on her face. She looked at Rémy as the two children walked in the room.

“I will stay with you, Tamsin, do not worry about that.” Rémy took her hand in his. She shook her head, not able to believe his tender words. Words that changed everything for her.

Her secrets were laid out for him, the reason she had spent so many years in this forest alone.

Still, he stayed.

They shook themselves out of their momentary reverie, as the chairs in the kitchen scratched against the hard wood floor.

“’Scuse us, the meal was wonderful,” Henri interrupted, but Tamsin could hardly focus. Her eyes filled with tears as she gripped Rémy’s hand tighter. “It was hearty … and unique….” Henri continued, awkward in the silence. “Also, the night is falling fast, perhaps….”

Rémy pushed himself up from the couch, the elixir apparently having worked as Tamsin hoped.

He spoke, “Alright, boy, we have some talking to do. It’s no coincidence you are here. We were brought together, all of us. It’s time we talked truthfully.”

Tamsin sat in her chair, relieved at Rémy’s ability to take control of the situation. She didn’t know where to begin with this boy. Didn’t know how to begin wading from the murk that swallowed her.

Rémy did.

“Who is this friend in the North you are looking for?” Rémy asked.

Tamsin smiled, he had heard more than he let on when he slept on the couch. He heard her worry, her unspoken fears. He heard her trepidation when she skirted out of the kitchen.

He heard her.

“Uhh, we were looking for a friend….” Henri stammered and shot daggers at Emel who stood there clearly unhappy with this situation, and had probably made him promise to not speak to her.

“Emel, can I ask you something?” Tamsin began. The girl nodded her head yes. “Is your crystal ball in the wagon?”

Emel nodded her head again.

“Can you bring it in here?”

Emel took a deep breath, “My people are not like you. The woman who taught me the divination I know, taught me that those who deal with other realms are not to be trusted. That is you.” She swallowed. “I’m not trying to be mean, or rude, or anything, and your home doesn’t look like the scary
sorcière
grottos I heard as a little girl. Still, it feels like a betrayal of Miora to help you.”

Tamsin nodded, understanding what Emel spoke. Still, she knew they could find the Princess if Emel helped search the country with her crystal ball if their cunning eyes worked together.

“Look,” Rémy began again. “We can’t skirt the issue any longer. Tamsin’s being too gentle. We’re looking for the same girl. Your girl is also our girl; at least we are pretty sure.”

“That’s impossible,” Henri began. “Sophie has never come to this part of the country before. She’s in the North and you don’t know her!”

“It is possible though. I sensed you coming before you arrived. Her name is Sophie?” Tamsin asked, wringing her hands together. She had to find her.

“Do you know her mother?” Tamsin asked him.

“Of course,” he guffawed, taking it as insult. “I was with her mother Francesca this morning.”

“You’re sure it is her true mother?” Tamsin pressed.

Henri’s eyes darted to hers the moment the question was in the air. Tamsin saw it written on his face … Sophie didn’t know her biological parents.

“How do you…? Are you her…?” His voice cracked.

“No, I’m not her mother, but I know who is. Her mother is the Queen of Gemmes.”

The words were bold, but they were also true. Henri’s eyes widened and he sat on the settee next to Rémy, speechless.

Emel stiffened and set her lips together, firmly.

“I think it’s time I go and get my crystal ball,” she announced.