The Shrinemaiden (The Maidens) (36 page)

“Welcome back, Adelai,” Shannika said, her voice soft the way people talked when an invalid was present, “You had us very worried, for awhile there.”

“What happened?” Adelai asked, unable to speak above a whisper. Her voice sounded raspy, and it only increased the odd friction in her throat, like she was having trouble pronouncing her words.

Shannika lifted a hand, signaling for her to stop. “Don’t speak. The king hurt you badly. A little deeper, and he would have….” She broke off with a loud sob, clapping a palm to her mouth to stifle the sound.

“You’re very brave, Adelai,” The Wolf said, his voice just as quiet as the Silvermaiden’s. “It was thanks to you that we were able to find the documents in the first place.”

“I was so glad it worked,” Shannika sniffed, “I was so worried. I’ve never started a fire before, and I didn’t know how fast it might spread. I didn’t want to leave you, Adelai. I’m so sorry. I wanted to wait until they could find you - ”

“It was my decision,” the general interrupted, “If you must blame anyone, then it should be me. If you’d been rescued as well, Garrant may have become suspicious, and might have moved the documents to another hiding place.”

Adelai asked a question with her eyes. Shannika nodded.

“Yes, Sana found them exactly where you said they were going to be. There’s a false wall at the back of the king’s personal dresser, a padlocked safe. We’d had people look through his rooms before, but they’d never found this. Sana was able to pick the lock and retrieve the documents while the king was planning the attack on the Watch with Thornton. We better give Sana a hero’s medal, by the way. She was able to get in and out of the palace grounds and found the note you tied to your window. Your room was the first place we looked into, but by the time we got there the guards had already taken you away to the king’s chambers.”

“I think Adelai deserves a medal, too,” Kinlee said, entering the room. The redhaired girl was dressed in a simple dress, and her hair was pinned up in a becoming style on her head, framing her pretty face - a sign that the Wolf had freed her from her bond as a slave. “We found all the incriminating documents we needed in the king’s dresser - his personal seal granting both Sevrigne and Kazer safe passage into other kingdoms, documents of sale from noblewomen who’d already been sold off to the slavers, another giving him generous percentages on every slave they sell - he even owned the ship they used. All with his royal seal, to assure the slavers it was a genuine royal decree, and to avoid paying his own taxes for the ship and the men they hired. There’s also an order to kill Belair, and a diary where he confessed everything in his own writing.”

Lady Wilchestrom sniffled, and shook her head. “Greedy bastard. If he’d survived, there would have been enough to convict him.”

Adelai’s eyes widened.

“Yes,” Kinlee smiled sadly, correctly interpreting her next question. “King Garrant didn’t leave his room alive. It might be for the better.”

“I think we’ve tired Adelai enough,” Shannika said firmly. “We can explain everything else later. You need to sleep.”

Adelai nodded, still too weak to argue further. She looked around the room again.

“He’ll be there when you wake up, Adelai,” Shannika said soothingly, patting her hand. “For now, rest.”

But the captain of the guard did not visit her in the two days that followed, though Lady Wilchestrom painted her a different picture during the days before she woke. “He never left your side,” she told Adelai. “I’ve seen that man weather through storms and battlefields, my dear, and never lose his composure. He looked so broken, even after knowing you were safe. And when you finally stirred, just when I thought he would be relieved - he left the room, just like that. I haven’t seen him since.” She squeezed her arm. “It doesn’t take a fool to know he is quite terribly in love with you, my dear, and I wish he’d get himself together so you can see it for yourself.”

“I already know, milady,” Adelai said, with a sad smile.

King Belair made an official visit to Sarcopia, to forge a stronger alliance, or so he claimed. “My main goal was to see you, my dear,” the king said with a smile. “I asked you to spy for me, to see what advantages I could use over Garrant. Not to throw yourself headfirst into the rebellion and nearly get yourself killed.” His eyes grew misty. “If I’d known how close you came to being hurt because of my own selfishness, your high priestess would have never forgiven me for it. I would have never forgiven myself.”

“It’s not your fault, your Majesty.” Adelai still sounded hoarse, but it no longer hurt as much to talk. Her neck was still swathed in bandages, as were her palms, but other than occasional flickers of pain whenever she moved too quickly, she was feeling much better, was looking forward to the day she could be let out of bed.

“Nevertheless, it I who am still responsible. I told you before that there were risks, yes - but I never expected it to go this far.” The king squeezed her wrist. “And I am grateful for everything you have done for me. I have talked with Sarcopian’s new ruler - who is of a much more reasonable breed than Garrant - and we have both agreed to bestow upon you the title of duchess. In Sarcopia you will be the Duchess of Holmgren; in Atalantea, the Duchess of Isles. You will find yourself a very rich woman upon leaving this room, your Grace - rich enough that you’ll be the first shrinemaiden in history to have been able to buy yourself out of the trade in less than a year - which you will do no such thing, because Saleia and I agreed you are to be released from your bond without paying her a cent.”

“Your Majesty….”

“And I won’t take no for an answer, Adelai.” The king grinned at her. I suggest that you take us up on our offer, while you still have some peace and quiet. I do not think this will be the case once Saleia herself comes to visit.”

The king of Atalantea was correct in that assumption. A day later, High Priestess Saleia came marching into Sarcopia, striding into the castle and demanding to see her ward.

“Whatever possessed you to do this?” She shrieked upon entering the room. Shannika, who was sitting with Adelai when the old woman came stomping in, could not hold back her wince. “Do you not understand what the word ‘spy’ means, Adelai? It means to look for information in potentially hostile territory
without letting yourself be known
. While you have done admirably in that first part, you have been horribly negligent in the latter.”

“Is she trying to praise you, or lecture you?” Shannika asked Adelai.

“You get used to her ways after awhile,” Adelai whispered.

“I think I’m going to leave so you two can catch up,” Shannika decided.

“Coward,” Adelai mumbled, but the woman pretended not to hear. She curtsied to Saleia, who barely paid her any attention, and glided out of the room.

Once the door closed behind her, the high priestess strode over to where she was propped up against the pillows. To Adelai’s astonishment, the temple matron leaned over and hugged her tightly, careful not to put too much pressure on her neck and hands as she did. “You sweet, insufferable child,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “You nearly stopped my heart, marching in and helping the general retake Sarcopia the way you did! When I heard you’d been gravely injured I feared the worst. Never, ever do this again to me, Adelai. I might not survive another attempt.”

“Priestess,” Saleia’s arms around her were what triggered her own tears. She had not cried since waking up, and now all the tears that had been building up inside her all this time, began to flow. She clung to the woman’s bony arms and sobbed her heart out, letting go, and the priestess held on to her, anchoring her against the tide threatening to sweep her out to sea.

Some time later, when her weeping had tapered off and she could think coherently again, Saleia spoke. “I have a confession to make, my dear. I told Thornton that you would be at the gardens that day, after your first run-in with him. Yes,” she smiled, at the startled look she gave her, “I did my best to push the two of you together, and I had hoped that you would be attracted to him, and that his own attraction would run deeper than his first impression of you.”

“But why…?”

“I did not want you to spend the rest of your life as a shrinemaiden. I did not want you to look back on your life and regret wasting the better part of your years entertaining other men, when you should have been falling in love and forging your own path on your own terms. I did not want you to turn out to be another me, Adelai.”

“But… there were other girls in the temple. Why would you single me out for…?”

“Adelai,” the high priestess said, and took a deep breath, “Adelai, I’m your mother.”

It was difficult at first. Adelai was shocked, and then disbelieving, and then even a little angry. Why hadn’t Saleia told her? Why let her believe that she was an orphan, all alone in the world?

Later on she, like she always did, tried to rationalize everything her mother did. Children had no place in a shrinemaiden’s life. Shrinemaidens would have to divide their time between raising them and attending to their clients, something most of the latter didn’t want. If Adopting Adelai out to another couple would have been the most obvious choice.

And then what about afterward, when her adoptive parents died and she was given over to the temple? Children were grounds for a temple high priestesses’ removal. Saleia must have realized that, and so could not claim her as her own. But she had looked out for her over the years, without giving her preference over her other sisters.

When it came down to it, Adelai conceded, it was deciding whether knowing a mother’s love was worth all the other hardships that would have come her way, and Saleia had made that decision for her.

Following the announcement, the high priestess deliberately stayed away for the next couple of days, giving her time to let everything sink in. When she returned, she was surprised to find the shrinemaiden calm and accepting. “I have one question,” Adelai began, “I want to know more about my father. Is he…?”

Saleia shook her head. “He passed away a long time ago. He was a young blacksmith just starting up his trade, and we fell hopelessly in love. I was very young then, just starting out my first assignment to an older client who kept me as a sign of his prestige more than for anything else. We kept our affair a secret for the years I was there, but in the end I was careless, and fell pregnant. I thought about running away with him then, of shirking my duties and starting somewhere new, where no one knew who we were.”

“But he refused?”

She sighed. “He didn’t want to leave his hometown - his family, everyone he knew lived there. He didn’t want a baby at this point in his life, either. I met King Andrys, Belair’s father, around that time, and he expressed interest in purchasing my next contract. My patron agreed, but I realized I would not be able to keep this a secret from the king for much longer. I confessed all to him, threw myself at his mercy. He did everything he could to protect me, to let me deliver you in secret and arrange to have you adopted. Unfortunately, the couple we gave you to died in a plague a few years later, as did your father. When you were brought to me that first time, and I saw your lavender eyes, I knew it was fate.”

“It’s why I have always been grateful to Atalantea, and I was willing to do all I can to help him and his son. When Belair asked me for help against Sarcopia, and asked me which of my novices I would willingly put my trust in, I felt like Andrys was here again, helping me find a way out - this time for you.”

“Did you know about the earl?”

Her mother shook her head. “There were enough rumors about him, and his slavery business to make me think he was not as aboveboard as he claims to be. I thought he would be the best place to start for you, but I decided not to tell you of my own suspicions. I wanted you to assess for yourself the earl’s character without any biases. And you proved to be just as astute as I knew you were.” She smiled, almost impishly.

“I understand,” Adelai said softly. She could only imagine how much the high priestess had done over the years, doing everything she could to see that she was raised properly despite the circumstances - and the pain she must have felt, never being able to tell her she was her daughter. She understood now why, although the temple was supposed to remain neutral at all times, Saleia had been willing to risk that reputation to see to her happiness.

“I think I would have liked it better if I had known, if I had the choice, but I also don’t know how that might have worked out, whether for the better, or for worse. But I know that you tried to do what was best for me. Even if I hadn’t known until now, I’m grateful for the years you were there, knowing you were watching over me.”

The high priestess was smiling when she was finished, her own wrinkled face wet with tears. “There was one other thing,” she said softly, “Perhaps I was biased, being your mother, but I had always known that you were special, that you were going to take a much different path than the one I had taken. I am proud of you, Adelai. I always have, and I always will be.”

It was her mother who informed her that the captain of the guard had left Arbentide earlier that week, without saying goodbye. “All these people have been tiptoeing around you for the last few days, trying to figure out the best way to break it to you,” she informed her, in her familiar, no-nonsense manner. “Your General Falen is hoping to talk him back into returning, so he would not have to tell you at all! Men,” she scoffed, and Adelai had to smile in spite of her growing worry, “I told them that the best way to tell her would be to
tell her
, and since they are too chicken-hearted to take me up on my suggestion I have elected to do so myself.”

Why he left was something the priestess could not tell her, though Adelai suspected she knew why. It took her another week to get out of bed and walk without aid - or rather, walk without being constantly offered assistance from others, much to her annoyance. Her wounds no longer hurt as much, and those on her hands have healed to an extent, though the scars are still visible. The one on her neck, she was told, may never completely go away, but this she took calmly, knowing that it was a good price to pay for keeping her life. Sarcopia was quickly recovering following the royal upheaval, and Adelai felt that her role in all of this was finished, that she should play no further part. She had a new goal in mind.