The Underground Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) (26 page)

Emmeline smiled.
“Of course. I still believe you could live in Dolmerti. You would love it there.”

“I don’t want to talk about impossible things.”

“It wouldn’t be impossible.”

“You know
, I could dump a bucket of water on you.”

“What purp
ose would that serve? I would just drink it all up and thank you for it.”

“
If it would get you to quit your useless jabbering then it would be worth the trouble. And it might help with the smell too. You need a bath.” Once again, his laughter filled the air.

“Aren’t you concerned someone may hear that boisterous laugh of yours and wonder what is going on in here?”

“You don’t like it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Just what
are
you saying?” His eyes twinkled.

“Aren’t you concerned someone may hear you?
Couldn’t you get in trouble for speaking to me?”

“That was two questions.
Have you changed your rules again?”

“We aren’t playing a game.
”

“Why
are you the one to decide when we are playing a game and when we are not?”

“Burungi!
I take back everything I said about Dolmerti ever protecting you!”

She knew she didn’t mean it and by the
wide smile on Burungi’s face, she knew he didn’t believe her either.

Burungi sat back down.
“Why don’t you tell me about your beloved Dolmerti? I’ll be good, I promise.”

Emmeline raised an eyebrow, still unsure if Burungi could be serious for any frame of time.
Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she sat to get comfortable. Her mouth opened and Dolmerti seemed to flow from her lips like honey. Landscapes, customs, weather patterns, celebrations, histories. She shared it all. And then she spoke of the people – those she loved and those she would have loved if she’d become their princess. She laughed and cried and relived memories that both warmed her soul and tore it apart. Nothing could compare to Dolmerti.

When she finished
, Burungi shared stories from his own homeland and they spent the sweltering hours of the day in comfortable conversation. Whether or not he had any interest in going to Dolmerti, she did not know. He asked questions now and then, but never about how to get there. The sun set and still they talked.

“It’s nearing midnight
so my twelve hours are almost up,” Burungi said after a break in their conversation. “Thank you for such an invigorating discussion.”

“I could say the same
for you.”

“Tomorrow then, Princess.”
He bowed.

His reference to her formal title
surprised her. “Tomorrow,” she whispered. She didn’t feel like a princess, covered in muck and living in Cantil’s Pit. She didn’t feel much like anything at all, in fact.

Exhausted,
Emmeline considered the moldy straw. How much more harm could one more layer of muck do? She kicked the edge of the pile and an odor drifted up. Emmeline scrunched her nose and settled herself on the dirt for another long night.

As her mind faded into a hazy sle
ep, she thought of the girl in the vision she had near the waterfall. Was she real? Was she herself in another time and place? Something seemed off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She pictured the details of the girl’s dress, the colors of the room. Nothing looked familiar.

A flash of heat pulsed
behind her eyes and the stink of the pit dissolved into and aroma of ginger and orange. Emmeline realized she was no longer lying down, but rather standing on soft, blue carpet. She looked down at her dirty feet and cringed. Lifting them one at a time, she examined the bottoms. Black grime clung to every bend and crease. She looked at the carpet again, surprised to find it still as clean as the rest. Her toes curled into the soft fibers. When was the last time she’d felt anything so soft, so luxurious?

A clock chimed in the corner and Emmeline frowned.
She felt the room, smelled it, and heard every little sound, and yet she knew she wasn’t really there. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been there before. It was the same room as the one in her vision – the same furniture, the same bedding, even the same writing tools on the desk. But her familiarity went deeper. Or rather, if felt deeper. She recognized nothing, and yet it felt like home.

She glanced around f
or clues, searching for something she recognized, something that would tell her where she stood. It looked nothing like Dolmerti’s palace, and even less like Griet’s.

A
wet nurse entered the room holding a baby to her chest. Making no indication that she heard Emmeline, or saw her, the nurse rushed to the desk and opened the top drawer. After rifling through its contents, she slammed it shut. She opened the second drawer, the third, and so on, until she had searched every drawer.

“It has to be here,” the nurse
said to no one.

Setting the baby down, she turned to the armoire and
, just like the girl in Emmeline’s vision before, she tore through the contents of the armoire only to come up empty. She knelt down and scooped the baby into her arms.

“It’s lost, little one. W
hat are we going to do? Without it you have no hope.” She buried her face into the baby’s blanket and wept.

Emmeline took a step forward and held out
a hand. She wanted to comfort the woman, but what could she do? She could be neither seen nor heard. The woman was alone in her grief. Emmeline dropped her hand to her side and glanced around the room. What was the nurse looking for? Was it the same thing the other girl had been looking for before she plunged the dagger into her stomach?

The baby whimpered and the wet nurse lifted her
against her shoulder and rocked back and forth, shushing into the baby’s ear. The baby squirmed a little and then took her thumb into her mouth and settled on the nurse’s shoulder. Emmeline stepped forward and the baby lifted her head. She gazed into Emmeline’s eyes and Emmeline caught her breath, frozen. Could the baby see her? As if in answer, the baby smiled, and then her blue eyes flashed silver.

She was an Incenaga
and night had descended.

Suddenly, everything made sense. The girl, the dagger, the baby.
The room seemed to tilt sideways and Emmeline swayed. The girl in her earlier vision had been her mother. She knew that now, without a doubt. And Emmeline was the baby.

Somehow, she had
witnessed her mother’s death, the horrendous moment when she believed all was lost. Emmeline’s chest constricted. If she’d known it was her mother, she would have tried harder to reach her. But even as she wished it, Emmeline knew it would have been impossible. It was a glimpse of the past, nothing more.

The wet nurse pushed to her feet and Emmeline refocused her attention. Her eyes traveled around the room, thirsting for anything that would tell her more about her mother.
Purple vases held wilted lilacs. A plum robe rested on a nearby chair.

The nurse look
ed up at the sound of someone approaching and panic flashed across her face. She held the baby closer to her until the steps fell into a rhythm even Emmeline recognized.

“The King
is on his way,” she said to the baby.

Emmeline turned around
and noticed the battered door for the first time. A very young version of her father stepped over the rumble and paced over to the nurse.

“Did you find it
?” he asked, his voice hitching up at the end.

The nurse shook her head.

The King let his chin fall to his chest. He took a deep breath and looked up. “Then I have no choice. Give Emmeline to me.”

Tears sprung into the nurse’s eyes. “We’ll find it, Your Highness. Just wait
awhile longer. Please, don’t take her away just yet.”

“I can’t wait. Harskell may find out Gwynn had a daughter. I’m not taking any chances.”

The nurse handed the baby to her father and then covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

Her father placed one hand on
the nurse’s shoulder before dashing out of the room with baby Emmeline in his arms.

The sound of a fingers snapping cracked
behind Emmeline and she whirled around to see Orinda standing behind her. She wore a gown of ebony, different than the one Emmeline had seen before, but no less beautiful.

“I think you’ve seen enough,”
Orinda said with a glint in her eye.

Orinda
vanished from the room and Emmeline found herself back in the pit.

Although Mishel was a province under his kingdom, it was one Erick had yet to visit. Since his father had turned ill, and relinquished his control over the kingdom, Erick had done all he could to fulfill his responsibilities. But, obviously, he had fallen short of his duties. Emmeline was right, he couldn’t shoulder it all on his own.

Quaint
buildings lined the seashore with homes dotting the hillside as far as his sight could stretch. It carried considerable charm, as most seaports did, but Erick couldn’t relax enough to enjoy the atmosphere. Not even the pure sound of ocean waves or the caressing touch of the sea breeze could calm him. Until he had Emmeline safe in his arms, he would not rest.

He
had pushed himself and his men to the limit, reaching Mishel much faster than the average traveler. However, it hadn’t seemed fast enough. Emmeline was in pain. He could feel it. Every night her cries echoed in his sleep and woke him. Nightmares of her bruised face, swollen lips and black eyes, haunted his nights. If it weren’t for the fierce determination lighting her eyes, he would have gone insane weeks before. She hadn’t lost her fight. And neither would he.

Penne Cardoon
, as it turned out, had left Mishel several days before. No one knew where he went, or when he would return.

“You won’t find Cardoon
until he is sitting right next to you,” a townsman said, the end of his thick beard disappearing behind the boy standing in front of him. “He comes and goes as he pleases without tellin’ a soul where he’s going or when he’s going. He just disappears and reappears out of nowhere.”

“Is he a shady fellow?” Erick inquired.

The townsman laughed and patted the boy’s shoulders absentmindedly. “Oh, heavens no, Your Highness. He’s as good as they come. Could do no wrong, that boy. He keeps to himself, that’s all.” He laughed again.

“Have you had any strange activity in Mishel? Anyone traveling to and from Dolmerti?”

The townsman stiffened. “Nothing that I’ve seen.”

Erick straightened. The townsman knew something.

“I’m looking for Princess Emmeline.”

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I was not present when you presented her. I am not familiar with her likeness.”

“She is about this tall.” Erick held his hand to just above his shoulder. “She has long black hair and blue eyes.” Unless it was night. “Or silver,” Erick added. He didn’t like tipping people off about Emmeline being an Incenaga, but given that all his soldiers already knew, he figured he could take the risk. The longer she remained in captivity the greater chance she’d be broken and controlled.

The townsman
locked gazes with the boy and then looked toward the sea. “We’ve seen nothing, Your Highness.”

“Are you sure? She could be in danger.”

The townsman’s brows pulled up in the middle and his eyes turned sad. Taking the boy’s hand, he bowed low and turned away from Erick. “Forgive me, Highness, but I can’t help you.”

Erick lunged forward and took hold of the townsman’s shoulder. “Tell me what you know. I can make it worth your while.”
He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a heavy bag of coins.

The townsman
eyed the purse and then jerked his shoulder from Erick’s grasp. “Leave me be! I know nothing!” He pulled the boy into a jog and retreated down the lane.

Stunned by the townsman’s odd behavior,
Erick ran a hand through his hair. He wouldn’t force the man to talk, at least not yet. If a random townsman knew something of Emmeline’s disappearance than there was a good chance someone else would have information. And would be more willing to talk.

Erick
turned a full circle and took in the size of the city. It would take him a year to question every establishment. He and his men would have to split up. They’d start in the middle and work their way out. Erick would knock on every door and question every person if he had to. Someone had to know something and for the right price, they had to be willing to share it.

After dividing his men into small teams, Erick turned to the shop owners and townspeople mulling about the main street. Most of them
were surprised to find the future King of Dolmerti in their shop, some even becoming too tongue-tied to speak, but none of them provided any helpful information. No matter his efforts, or his bribes, he couldn’t get a word from them.