Silent Kingdom (5 page)

CHAPTER 3

T
he boy shouted words I couldn’t hear past the ringing in my ears. Coming to the front door, a man paused on the porch and stared me up and down. I lay in the grass trembling, my cloak and gown in a heap around me. The whole world blurred and teetered, and black dots obstructed my vision.

“She needs help, Father,” the boy begged. He kneeled at my side and peered down at me, his deep brown eyes filled with concern. He felt my forehead with trembling fingers. “I think she came from the woods; she must be hungry.”

Another friend? Shelter? Food?
I hoped.

Without a word, the boy’s father turned and slammed the front door. After several minutes he appeared again in front of me, shoving a slice of bread and a cup of water in my face. Somehow my senses sharpened at the sight of food and I found strength to snatch at them. I devoured the bread, not caring as crumbs spilled down my front, then gulped down the water, savoring every drop. My empty stomach growled for more; the water seemed to slosh in the vast empty space left inside me. The man lifted me into his arms and carried me, the boy trotting along behind him.

Hating that I was not strong enough to walk myself, I blinked in the sunlight and clung to the stranger’s shoulders. My head lolled back against his chest and I closed my eyes. Too tired, too tired.

Eventually I was aware of slightly less movement—the world still spun but the man had stopped walking. I cracked open my eyes and saw we were standing before another cabin, this one surrounded by a homey garden. Though it was dead now, I could tell it had been well-tended before the frosts came.

The man pounded on the door. After a moment, it opened inward to reveal a middle-aged man with short, ruffled hair and brown eyes almost lost behind his spectacles. His skin was a softer tone than that of the others, the color of someone who spent most of his days indoors. He blinked in surprise and raised a hand to run through his locks. “Kyrin, what brings you here?” he inquired. He glanced down at me, then at the boy behind me. “Ah, Avrik. Good day. Who…who is this?”

“I found her; I think she was in the forest, but—” Avrik offered, but his words were cut short by his father’s.

“She’s ill, Rev,” Kyrin said gruffly. “As you know, I’m in no position to nurse a girl back to health. But perhaps you and Lyanna…”

A round-faced woman popped her head over her husband’s shoulder at the mention of her name. Her pale face was dusted with flour that matched the white streaks adorning her ash-colored hair. “Oh!” she exclaimed, throwing a hand over her mouth. “The poor girl. Of course we’ll take her in, Kyrin.” She pushed her way past Rev and clasped me by both hands. “You’ll be fine, dear; we’ll get you plenty of food and rest.” She nodded to Kyrin to bring me in.

Rev blinked and ran his hand through his hair again, though he made no protest. Kyrin carried me through the doorway into a warm living room with a large fire burning in the hearth.

“Take her to the guest room; she looks exhausted,” Lyanna urged, and Kyrin followed her to the back of the cabin into a small room containing no more than a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. He laid me down, and I promptly fell asleep.

Hours passed before I awoke to the tantalizing scent of venison. My head felt better, but I was faint with hunger. Turning my head, I stared out of the sole window in the bedroom, watching the dying sunlight through the bare branches of a tree outside. I glanced around, taking in the blue and white quilt draped over me and the bedframe, hand carved with a simple floral design. The room’s walls were bare; the wood floor uncovered. It was strange to see such simple living arrangements compared to the luxury I had grown up in, but the atmosphere felt comfortable and inviting, a welcome change from the great expanses of the palace.

Sitting up, I slipped out of bed and relished the feel of the floorboards, cool and smooth under my bare feet after days of trekking through the woods. Somewhere in the kitchen, Lyanna was humming while she worked. I took a few steps toward the bedroom door and the floor creaked beneath me.

Hearing me stir, Lyanna poked her head in the doorway and gave me a soft smile. “Awake? Dinner is almost ready; I’ll have Rev heat some bathwater for you so you can wash beforehand. I found some of my old clothes that should do for you to wear for now…” She helped me to my feet and led me out by the fireplace to sit and wait.

Lyanna called to me a short while later. As she returned to the kitchen, I shut my bedroom door and stared at the copper tub, full to the brim with steaming water. A towel, bar of soap, comb, and change of clothes rested on my bedcovers.

I wasted no time in stripping the dirty nightgown from my body and easing into the bathwater. The water relaxed my sore muscles until I leaned back and closed my eyes in bliss. I snatched at the bar of soap and began to work it into a lather, scrubbing at the layers of grime coating every inch of my skin and hair. When the water turned lukewarm, I stood resignedly and stepped from the tub.

After I’d dried myself, I turned to the undergarments and dress Lyanna had laid out. I could tell from a glance the dress was too large, but it was clean and warm. The plain brown fabric was faded from use, yet when I slipped it over my head, I found that it was still soft. Once dressed, I combed the knots from my hair before the small looking glass set over the dresser. Though my reflection was pale and dark circles shadowed my eyes, there was a flush to my cheeks and light sparkling in my green eyes. Already I felt infinitely better than I had only hours ago.

When I was finished, I joined Lyanna and Rev at the kitchen table for dinner. Neither pressed me to speak as I consumed a heaping serving of venison stew, potatoes, and bread. Dinner was far simpler than the extravagant palace meals I was accustomed to, but it was delicious, a hearty meal that warmed and reinvigorated me. When I gratefully allowed Lyanna to fill my plate and bowl with second portions, she began to ask questions.

“Where did you come from, my dear?”

I lifted my head from my plate and gulped down another mouthful of stew. Fear knotted in my stomach when I imagined trying to explain what had happened—no, revealing my identity was too dangerous. I shook my head, remembering how I couldn’t speak earlier. Maybe I could now, but I didn’t want to try yet. It was easier to remain silent and hold my secrets close.

Lyanna pursed her lips and glanced at her husband. Silence settled over the table, and I shoveled another forkful of potatoes into my mouth. Lyanna shrugged, took a sip of water, and started to chat about her plans for her garden.

Thank you,
I thought in relief. My appetite returned in full force, and I cleaned my plate for the second time with embarrassing speed. My mother would have been aghast at my horrible manners and lack of etiquette, but Lyanna didn’t comment.

Once she and Rev cleared the table, the two of them settled in the living room. Lyanna motioned to invite me over. “Come join us,” she offered.

In the corner near a set of bookshelves and a desk, Rev paused while selecting a book to look over his shoulder and nod. “Yes, you should warm yourself by the fire for a bit.”

I eased awkwardly into a wooden armchair by the fire and waited for them to ask for more information. It was only natural.

Picking up a piece of knitting, Lyanna studied me. “Do you like to knit?” She gestured to the basket beside her, full of yarn and various sizes of knitting needles.

Knit? I don’t know if I like to knit. I like to ride, to shoot, to read, and to pretend I’m on grand adventures with my cousin. Once I liked to swim and listen to my uncle tell stories by the fire. But knitting…that is something I wasn’t taught, not as royalty.

Uncomfortable, I glanced down at my hands, folded tightly in my lap.

“It’s all right.” Lyanna smiled. “I just want you to feel welcome.” She hesitated. “What…what can we call you?”

I stared into the fire. Was it safe to speak?
Could
I speak? I cleared my throat, trying to find words to say.
I don’t know
… My lips formed the words, but no sound came.
I can’t say
…

Wide-eyed, I turned to Lyanna and shook my head.

Maybe this muteness was a mercy. Maybe whatever had cursed me with my visions was gone with my voice. If I never spoke, then my uncontrollable need to tell the truth could never endanger me again.

But Lyanna wasn’t finished trying to discover more about me. “Do you have family looking for you? You can stay here as long as you need to, of course, but I really would hate for your loved ones to be worried while you stay here, and we have no idea…”

Again, I shook my head. This time I touched my throat, and Lyanna nodded in understanding.

Rev looked up from the book he’d been engrossed in. “Lyanna, don’t pester her. Clearly she has been through a lot. She might be ready to talk in a few days.”

Lyanna nodded. “No more questions,” she told me. “When you’ve had time to rest, you can share your story, if you want. I only want to ensure you can return home.”

~~~

I was standing beside my uncle’s bedside as, pale and shaking, he stared up at me. My eyes were full of tears, so I couldn’t see him clearly at first and didn’t realize he was trying to speak to me. When I blinked, I saw his lips opening, but only a moan escaped him.

“I’m here, Uncle Reylon,” I whispered, stretching out my fingers to grasp his hand. His skin was cold and clammy. “You’ll be fine; you just need to rest…” But even as I said the words, I knew he wouldn’t be fine. He was slipping away. If only he could say the words he was trying to speak…

I leaned in toward him, heard the breath leave his mouth. It brushed my cheek, warm and moist in the cold, dark room. He groaned again, but then it became a new sound—a word.

“Pleaaasse…”
His voice was barely above a whisper. It cracked as the plea died on his lips.

Pulling back, I searched his face frantically. “Please, what? What is wrong? Uncle? Uncle!”

He collapsed onto the pillow, eyes closed, and the servants around him went wild, rushing forward and pushing me out of the way. One shouted at another to fetch the healer. My aunt, on the other side of his bed, was crying hysterically.

“Give him his medicine! His medicine!” she cried.

I groped for the glass on his nightstand and charged back to the bed. “Help me,” I begged of the nearest servant, who helped me lift my uncle. I touched the glass to his lips…

His eyes sprang open and his hand jerked upward, knocking the glass from my fingers. It flew across the room and struck the floor, where it shattered into a thousand shimmering pieces. Deep purple liquid splattered across the floor, onto the rug, and up the wall. The servants were still calling out to one another in worry, but my eyes were locked on my uncle.

His eyes were burning with fury as he grasped my wrist in a steely clutch. But his eyes were all wrong—they were no longer sky blue, but grey. As grey as his brother’s. “How dare you!” he shouted, his voice strong, angry. “How can you let me die? Why are you poisoning me? Why are you killing me?”

“No, no!” I screamed, fighting to escape his grip, but he only strengthened the hold. “I didn’t do it! I didn’t know!” His grasp was becoming unbearable; his eyes alight with the same cruel fire that had burned behind my father’s gaze as he’d sentenced me to death.

And then I was in the Alrenian again, plunging down, down… suffocating…my lungs filling with burning liquid…

My rolling and thrashing woke me, and I lurched forward in my bed. The sheets lay in a tangled mass at my feet and I was soaked in sweat. Cries of alarm erupted from the other room, followed by racing footsteps as Lyanna and Rev rushed into the room. The light from the candle Rev clutched reflected in their pale, worried faces.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Lyanna gasped. “A nightmare?” When her gaze fell on me, her soft blue eyes widened even further and she snapped a hand to her mouth.

With a start I realized the taste of blood was thick in my mouth. I raised my fingers to my lips and brought them away red. Trembling, I focused on catching my breath and reminding myself that I’d only had a nightmare.

A nightmare about real life.

“Are you all right?” Rev demanded, his forehead crinkled with concern. Without his glasses, he squinted at me as if he were looking across a great distance.

I nodded.

Tears sprang into Lyanna’s eyes. “Oh, honey. Who are you? What has happened to you? Can’t you find a way to tell us? Isn’t there something we could do to help?” She knelt at my bedside, reaching out a hand to pat mine.

I glanced down at her hand over mine and realized my knuckles were bleeding. Apparently I’d also been punching the headboard in my sleep. No wonder Lyanna and Rev were so concerned.

Drawing a deep breath, I tried to slow my pounding heart. I was half-convinced that if I blinked, I would open my eyes to the chill darkness of the sea pressing in on me once more.

“You’re safe here,” Rev told me, reading the fear that must have been shimmering in my eyes. “I promise it’s safe.”

There had to be a way to communicate with these people who had so kindly offered help. But what was safe to share? Slipping out of bed, I dashed to the front room. In the darkness I almost stumbled into one of the chairs until Rev’s pool of candlelight enveloped me. I glanced back and smiled at him and Lyanna, who stood watching me curiously. I threaded my way around the furniture toward the corner of the room, where Rev’s desk sat. It was strewn with empty paper that might give me a way to communicate, even when I didn’t know what to say. Picking up one of his pens, I dipped it in ink and scribbled down a message.

I don’t have a home.

Rev and Lyanna crept up behind me and stared down at the words.

Lie…make up a name
, I told myself.
Give them something more. They’re going to ask
. My hand trembled over the paper, letting ink drip off the pen’s tip and blot over my words.
Think of a name
. I concentrated, but my head ached. Only one word forced itself into my brain, repeating over and over as if it were echoing the heartbeat throbbing in my skull.
Halia. Halia. Halia.