Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1) (54 page)

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Nairnah, it’s going to take more than a
whole moon to get there.”

She put a hand to her head. “Oh my.”

He chuckled. “Never mind. What’s done is
done.”

Having her little body next to him was so
warm and so thrilling. He pulled her in tighter, wanting more.

“Brayden?” she asked. “When will I see you
again?”

He thought for a moment. “Maybe not for a
long time. Khalous is taking us to Thalmia, the capital of Advala.
It’s in the southernmost area of the region. He says he has a
friend there who knows the Kriegellians.”

“The who?”

“The Kriegellians. They’re Fellian
outcasts,” he explained.

“What’s a Fellian?”

Brayden was surprised she didn’t know, but
reminded himself that she was the daughter of a humble wagon
builder and seamstress. Few people outside the royal family and of
non-noble birth had any knowledge of the worlds beyond Edhen.

“A Fellian is a person from Krebberfall,”
Brayden said. “You’ll also hear them called Krebbers, but that’s
not a respectful term. Don’t say it. In fact, I probably shouldn’t
have even told you.”

“So why were the Kraig… the Kraig–lians…
What are they called again?”

“The Kriegellians.”

“Why were they outcast from
Krebberfall?”

“They started mixing magic into their
combat, and magic is strictly forbidden on Krebberfall.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really know, but they say
Kriegellians are unmatched. Their magic, their swords, the way they
fight, is unstoppable. If they’ll train us we’ll have abilities
beyond anything in the Black King’s army. We’ll be able to go back
to Edhen and take back our home.”

“What do you mean if they’ll train you?”

“That’s the problem. They don’t always
accept outsiders, and, admittedly, there’s a chance they’re not
even real. Until Khalous told us about them, I had always thought
they were just a legend in a tale I once heard.” He looked over his
shoulder toward the road where, somewhere, the giant corpse of a
freshly killed mountain troll lay facedown in the dirt. “Then
again, legends seem to be coming true lately.”

“I like to think there’s always some truth
in a legend,” Nairnah said. “My mother believed in the guardian
spirit of the Allgod. She even believed, like the legend says, that
he once took the body of an enorbear and walked the land to commune
with the people. My father never believed in such things, and I
didn’t either until on the day we buried my mother I saw an
enorbear standing on the hill looking down on her grave. Not a tame
one, but a wild one. A real one.”

“I’m sorry,” Brayden said. “I thought your
mother died with your father during the siege.”

Nairnah shook her head. “When my baby
brother died after he was born, mother slowly went mad with grief
until she… Well, father said the grief just killed her.” She looked
up at him, her eyes moist and flickering with the distant light of
the campfire. “Please come back. You’re all I have left,
Brayden.”

“Don’t say that,” he said. “You have Ariella
back at the monastery, and—”

“No, I mean from before.” She sniffled,
taking a moment to compose herself. “I lost everyone when we left
Aberdour. There was nobody I knew, except you. You were the only
person I recognized. I don’t want you to go away.”

“A part of me wishes I didn’t have to,” he
said.

“Only a part of you?”

“If there’s a chance that we can return to
Aberdour and rescue our friends, my sisters, I have to take
it.”

She nodded and said she understood, but it
was clear her grief was unassuaged.

Brayden slid off the rock and knelt in front
of her so he could look her square in the face. “Nairnah, I want
you to do something. When you get back to the monastery, help them.
I’ve seen you with the children there. I’ve seen you working in the
garden. You have a compassionate heart. Take that gift and use it
while you can. I will come back for you, but don’t sit idly by
waiting for me. Use your gifts. All right?”

“I will, my lord.”

Brayden noticed that the conversations
around the campfire had all but ceased and many of the boys were
now snoring away on their mats.

He led Nairnah back to the fire where he
added a few more logs to brighten the blaze. He stretched out a
blanket for her and bundled her in several others. He lay down
behind her on his good side and wrapped his injured arm around her.
It was intoxicating to hold her so close.

“Get some sleep, Nairnah,” he whispered. “We
both have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”

He wanted to kiss her, but he was too
afraid. Even the following morning when he saw her with Pick
getting ready to set out, he imagined walking over to her and
kissing her on the lips. But, again, his fears inhibited him.

Khalous stomped past him on his way toward
Pick. The captain still looked grumpy. His face was pale with dark
bags under his eyes.

Nairnah dipped her head toward him as he
neared. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she said. “I didn’t mean to cause so
much trouble.”

“Well you did,” Khalous replied. “When you
get back to Halus Gis, I want you to stay there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Khalous looked at Pick. “I want you to stay
there as well.”

Pick’s brows flattened. “Sir?”

“Look after Ariella, Dana and the others. I
aim to be back in two moons. I’ll see you then.”

Brayden could tell that Pick thought the
command was an odd one. The young soldier eyed his captain for a
moment or two and then gave an accepting nod of his head. “Until we
meet again then.”

Their arms clasped and they cuffed each
other on opposite shoulders.

Brayden went to Nairnah, his heart burdened
with the uncertainty of when they would see each other next.

“At least you’ll eat good tonight,” he said,
trying to make light of the situation.

“I’ll miss you,” Nairnah said.

“And I you.”

Watching from the dying ashes of the
campfire were Nash and Broderick who sniggered until Stoneman shut
them up.

“I believe in what you’re doing,” Nairnah
said. “I will pray to the Allgod for your safety.”

Her words touched his heart more than he
expected.

And then, to his surprise, she stepped
forward and kissed him. Not a peck on the cheek, or a blessing on
the forehead like the nuns of Halus Gis would’ve done, but a kiss
on his lips, sweet and moist. He didn’t think to kiss her back
until she had already pulled away, and by that time it was too
late.

Scarlett scribbled a single word on her
chalkboard. Feeling as though it wasn’t strong enough on it’s own
she added an exclamation mark, and then drew a circle around it,
and then several more for good measure. She flipped the board
around for Aamor to see.

No!

The young woman glanced at it, frowned, and
shook her head. “I’m afraid you don’t have much choice in the
matter, love.”

She bunched up the bedding from Scarlett’s
mattress and tossed it into a large straw basket. Scarlett had
never before seen the young maid act so irritated and
distraught.

She scribbled another phrase on her
blackboard.
I want to stay here!

“The queen wants you in your own room, so
that’s what I have to do,” Aamor said. “You’re getting older, love.
You’ll be nine soon. It’s not appropriate for you to share
Tristian’s room anymore. When he’s married he’s not going to want
you in here with him and… and… that woman.” She snapped a
pillowcase and began folding it.

Scarlett wrote another word on her
board.

“Why?” Aamor said. “Because there are things
that a husband and wife need to do on their wedding night, and, um,
Tristian and Lady Arrahbella…” Her folding slowed to a stop. She
stood there for a moment staring at the bare mattress, the half
folded pillowcase limp in her hands. Scarlett watched as Aamor sat
down on the bed and brought the pillowcase up to hide her eyes. Her
tears were masked, but Scarlett could still see her sobs.

Aamor’s feelings for the crippled prince had
gone unnoticed by everyone, including Tristian, but not Scarlett.
It was no secret to her that Aamor was in love with him, and
Scarlett had inklings that Tristian loved her in return. But the
relationship wasn’t appropriate. Even Aamor knew that. Servants did
not become involved with members of the royal family.

Scarlett walked over to the bed and wrapped
her arms around Aamor’s waist. The young woman offered an
appreciative moan, and stroked Scarlett’s hair as she wiped away
her tears.

“I’m a silly girl, aren’t I?” she said.
“What chance did I ever have with a prince of Tay? Lady Arrahbella
is an honorable woman. I should be happy for him.”

Scarlett offered Aamor a comforting smile,
hoping it would make up for her bad attitude that had permeated the
morning. It wasn’t the maidservant’s fault that she was being
forced out of Tristian’s bedchambers. Neither of them had much say
in the matter.

Scarlett hated the idea of leaving Tristian
alone, especially with his new bride. Princess Arrahbella fi Cipio
was indeed a fine young lady, but she was almost too fine. Scarlett
didn’t like the way she always appeared so flawless.

Scarlett scribbled on her chalkboard,
I
don’t trust her
.

“Lady Arrahbella? Why not?”

She thought for a moment, and then wrote,
She’s a Buttonhead.

Aamor wrinkled her face. “Buttonhead? The
jester? He’s just an actor.”

Precisely.

“I didn’t even know you could spell that
word.”

A female servant from the kitchen staff
hurried into the room. “Aamor, Lady Catherina is asking for you.
She wants you downstairs at the party.”

“But she sent me up here to finish moving
Red’s things.”

“I guess she changed her mind.” The young
woman left the room.

“Very well.” Aamor got up, her reddish brown
ponytail swishing against her neck. She clicked her tongue,
thinking. “Curse that bloody woman. What does she think she’s—”
Aamor suddenly covered her mouth. “Oh! I shouldn’t say such things
about the queen.”

Scarlett grinned and shrugged. She didn’t
care. If she had a voice she’d be saying such things all day.

“If you ask me, and I’m sure you would, I
think she changes her mind just to make us angry,” Aamor
whispered.

Scarlett couldn’t agree more. Lady Catherina
was known for her dramatic mood swings. Many assumed it was the
result of her fraying mental health, but others, like Scarlett,
supposed she did it for fun. The queen was like a cat in that
regard that viewed those under her as mice to be played with.

“Let’s get down to the Hall,” Aamor said.
She gestured toward Scarlett’s beautiful purple gown. “You didn’t
get all dressed up just to hang around with me, did you? You should
go be with the people. I hear there will be dancing.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened and she nodded with
excitement. She, of course, knew about the dancing already. She had
been looking forward to it for weeks.

Scarlett tucked her small blackboard into a
pouch in the front of her gown. The pocket had been sown into the
pleats at Tristian’s request to make it easier for Scarlett to
carry her board with her. She had more than a dozen dresses with
such pockets, as well as many with white cuffs or tippets for dry
erasing.

“Tristian said you’ve been enjoying your
dance lessons,” Aamor said as they left the room. “You’re very
lucky you know. Not many girls get such opportunities.” Scarlett
thought she detected a hint of sadness in Aamor’s tone.

She skipped alongside the young maidservant
as they made their way downstairs to the State Hall. The cavernous
room sat under a resplendent white dome in the very center of the
castle. As they neared, Scarlett could smell the aroma of flowers,
ladies’ perfume, and seasoned meats. The sounds of music and
frivolity from within made her spirits bubble.

“Have you seen the high king’s emissary
yet?” Aamor asked in a hushed voice as they approached the entrance
to the Hall.

Scarlett shook her head that she had
not.

“I do not look forward to meeting him. I
hear he’s rather… strange.”

Orange torchlight bathed the State Hall.
Long green palm branches and massive clusters of cut flowers hung
from leafy vines all around the room. Hundreds of people had filled
the Hall. Most sat at one of the many long banquet tables indulging
in the royal smorgasbord of choice foods and wine. Others had
formed a circle around a large dance floor that was occupied with
dozens of people. Feet tapped and dresses swayed to the
hand-clapping beat of a fast tune played by a flutist and a man
with a tambourine.

The king and queen had spared no expense in
their preparations to entertain the high king’s emissary. Scarlett
had yet to hear his name, but his reputation was one that generated
either respect or fear depending on who she asked.

“Over there,” Aamor said. She gestured with
her chin toward the dais against the south wall upon which sat King
Dagart’s throne. His seat had been pushed back to make room for a
long rectangular feasting table, which was draped with a white
cloth and covered with a variety of warm and glistening
foods—chicken and rabbit meat in an almond gravy, glazed white
bread, garlic and egg pottages, citrus fruits imported from Perth,
and a variety of expensive figs, raisins, dates and prunes.

King Dagart Elle sat at the middle of the
table facing the room, his gold crown topping off a ceremonial
outfit of green and black. His queen, Catherina, was on his right.
The orange glow of the firelight made her pale skin look warm and
robust. She wore an ivory gown with a raised pattern of curly
designs and flowers that accentuated her trim neck and shoulders.
Next to the queen were empty chairs for the princes, Taggart and
Tristian.