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  “ My name is Cerid Wren, child, seems you ought to know it now.”

  “Pleased to meet you Mistress Wren. My name is Meredith.”

  “I know tha, child. I’ll be leaving ye here. Meet me again in t’ rowan copse when t’ first frost do be arriving, I have business to be about till then. You are too keep this t’ yeself, mind. It’s best for now if its just you and I. And call me Cerid, child, ‘Mistress Wren’ makes me feel old.”

  “But….”

  The crones laughter barked once more, and with that she turned and headed towards the Townsway. The darkness swallowed her hunched form, the thump, thump of her stick growing fainter.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Knight of Swords

  For awhile Mera stood, staring at the place the crone, Cerid, had been, running through what had just happened in her mind. It suddenly didn’t seem real, how could a dare end so strangely? Through her puzzlement crept a slow joy; this would be her secret. Llew could have his swords, she would have her healing. She would learn something useful!

  Her fierce grin quickly faded when she realized it was full dark and growing later, how long had she been standing there?! She was late, late again, and going to be in trouble. With a sigh she hiked up her skirts and ran down a different turning in the thorns, the one that led to the northern most gate of the palace, the one that led to the kitchens. It meant she’d have to walk right across the gardens, but at least they’d think she had just got sidetracked in the palace. Just lately she had overheard a few conversations in which her mama thought she was spending too much time with the children of the keep, that she was picking up bad habits. She didn’t want her to think she was late because she’d been running ‘round town with them. They were the only friends she had. Only a few of the noble houses had been in residence lately, the rest having been away through harvest, but they would be back now and her mama would expect her to ‘make an effort‘. But the noble kids were all brats anyway. The boys, well were boys. Being silly or trying to copy their fathers and knights, which Mera thought was much the same thing. The girls, primping idiots, always talking about dresses and who they were going to marry, always talking about prettiness like it was everything. Oh, and always following Llew around, laughing when he teased her, then teasing her more to try and impress him. Or trying to be her friend thinking that would get them near him. She just didn’t understand, he might be the Prince but he really was incomparably annoying. Mera scowled behind her masque.

  The path curved around the curtain wall, one of five near half circles that formed the defences, build of red sandstone, old and worn smooth. The walls rose high, obscuring the view of the palace beyond. Their tops were terraces overflowing with plant life. In the dark they hung like shadowy impressions; long, dangling Sleeping Ivy lay like splashes of black, the Honeysnares’ large white flowers glowed, their beguiling scent mingling with that of the Itch in the Mist to coat the night air with delicate perfumery. Although beautiful, she knew, as all were informed, that their beauty hid a deadly nature.

  The Sleeping Ivy would bind anything large that touched it, the Honeysnare’s perfume sought to draw in prey, which it then stupefied before piercing flesh with tendrils seeking nutrients. If disturbed the Itch in the Mist released spoors that clung to anything that touched it. Spores that at first would merely itch, but would rapidly burrow into the skin, the sensation so unbearable that the victim would often tear through their own skin and flesh. A deadly beauty indeed. It was this knowledge that first led to her fascination with plants, and with their possibilities.

  Within the vast central oculus, poised like a bud on the brink of unfurling, light blazed. She wondered if the Royal house took the name Rosalind, and the sigil of the Rose, because of the palace, or it was merely coincidence… obviously they had nurtured the idea when they built the outer walls, seeking to echo the original style, as much as humanly possible. But right now she didn’t need to worry about the decisions of the kings of old but of those of the present one. If he noticed how tardy she was then he and her mama would both be breathing down her neck. She chewed on her lower lip. That would be bad.

  There were not many either coming or going from the Kitchen gate now, either hard at work in the palace, preparing for the evening to come, or already at the bonfires, to laugh and drink with family and friends. Some few hurried past, eager expressions clear to see even in the dark. A few straggling companions chatting about which part of town they were going to, who had the biggest bonfire, whom they would be dancing with. As one particularly arduous couple passed her she heard a gasp, followed by a giggle. She turned to see the man clutching his backside with a scandalised smile as the woman ran teasingly out of reach. Their hair streamed behind them they pelted down the path. Neither chasing the other but rather the possibility that lay between them. She wished she was as free as them. She turned to face the gate, much smaller in comparison than the others, the heavy, spiked portcullis raised, the carved wooden doors thrown open. To either side stood an armoured guard, spears erect by their sides, their helms brightly reflecting the light from within the guard’s room that spilled the harsh sound of men’s voices, raucous laughter and the rattle of dice.

  Mera took a deep breath of the clean night air, and straightened her spine. The guard on the right was older, grizzled. Hazel eyes peered at her from head to toe and back again, and before he reached the top he was fighting to keep his face neutral. His name was Melilot and was often on this gates duty, and he was used to her comings and goings. The guard on the left was much younger than Melilot, wisps of golden hair sticking out from under his helm, and from his chin though no where near enough to be called a beard. “Good even to you, Princess Meredith” Melilot put a hint of smile into the greeting, bending his head in a bow.

  The younger guards eyes went wide, his mouth dropping open as he stared at her, doing the same look up and down that Melilot had. What were they staring at? “ Has the ceremony started yet? Are they in the gardens?”

  “I don’t think so, though last the priest and priestess had arrived and were receiving refreshments” He cracked a quick grin. “You best hurry if you’re gonna get there first.”

  “Thanks!”

  The wind blew an errant waft of steam from the laundry, her skin suddenly misted in the scent of lavender. She hurried down the central pathway, past the kitchen gardens, herbal scents drifting, past the vegetable patches, large pumpkins lying bloated on the earth. She barely noticed her surroundings, though it did strike her how quiet it was. Usually this area was always bustling with people coming and going, to work, to eat, or to idle away a quick break in gossip. Now there were only a few, scurrying like her along the walkway, intent on their tasks. She avoided the ramp that led to the doorway of the oculus, she also avoided the stairs that led down to the kitchen. Usually they were quite tolerant of her, but she knew tonight they would be busy, very busy, trying to get everything ready for the feast later. The whole household would be strained preparing suites for the sudden influx of residents and guests. She knew she would just get scolded and dragged to the throne room. Mera headed toward a small door in the eastern wing, she knew that it was rarely busy and she intended to slip through, cut across the training yard, through the Guest wing and into the Court Gardens, where tonight’s ceremony, and festivities, would be taking place.

  Her hand was resting on the iron handle when a sharp voice cut through the night, freezing her in place. “Princess Meredith! There you are, where have you been?! I have been searching the entire grounds, what have you been doing? Do you want me to get in trouble? Do you enjoy seeing me punished when I fail to present you on time?”

  It was Tansy, the servant girl often assigned to serve her, to see her dressed properly, to make sure she had everything she needed and was where she was supposed to be. The latter she often failed at. Mera hated having to always let others do everything for her, while she was supposed to be ‘quiet, good, well mannered and punctual’.

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sp; Tansy’s hair was escaping its loose coil, falling in waves about her face, her intentionally presented generous bosom strained against her bodice as she panted for breath. Her skirts wrinkled and dusty, sleeves rolled up, and her arms swung vigorously by her sides as she bore down. She had obviously not taken the time to get ready for tonight, even though Mera knew she had been looking forward to it, had brought new ribbons for her hair, and was meeting a certain stable hand later, once Meredith was safely ensconced at the Royal celebration. Tansy insisted on prattling on about it. She felt a flash of guilt and began chewing her lower lip, her feet scuffing the paving stones.

  “Well? Nothing to say? Stop that, how many times to I need to tell you it’s unlady like? The ceremony’s about to start, Queen Jessamine has already enquired as to where you are, their highness’ are now preparing to leave the throne room! We have minutes!”

  During this tirade she had swept Mera up, leading her by her arm, back towards the kitchens, down the steps, into the thick heat and noise. Unbelievable noise; hissing, clanging of pots, splashes of liquids, thumps and bangs. A wall of voices, shouting, calling to one another, the steady chant of the spit boys, and over it all the bellow of Mistress Senna. The head chef and master of the kitchen, orchestrating the chaos.

  “And look at the state of you! Covered in mud, wrinkles it your skirt! Just once, just once, couldn’t you please, be on time, be presentable! Tonight of all nights! You know that the palace is full to overflowing, and the ambassador from the Empire!”

  Tansy dragged Mera to a store cupboard, small and dusty, and cramped with vegetables. She stood there holding the door open, other hand resting on her hip. “Well? Don’t just stand there! Go in! I’ve already told you we have no time!”

  Meredith hurried inside, back pressed against a high stack of shelves, packed with the winter stores. Tansy unhooked a large velvet sack from her waist, one which usually lay at the bottom of Mera’s wardrobe, and started removing neatly folded clothes.

  “ Don’t just watch! Start stripping, we can’t do much abut the boots, but you’ll be out side. Look at these clothes, wrinkled! I wont be surprised if I get demoted to a chary after this! Do you dislike me so much? Step into the dress, turn around. Well it’s nice to see you at least got a masque…I, oh. It really is quite beautiful.”

  Tansy tied the laces on her dress, a deep maroon, dark pink petticoats, creamy lace at neck, cuffs and hem. It tickled her hands and chin. She sighed, formal wear was always uncomfortable, and now she would have to be careful all night. She knew the dress was expensive, and she had a habit of staining or tearing them. Tansy had finished her ties, her hand briefly lingering on the soft velvet, and Mera knew that she would do much to own such a fine dress. She moved to the front of her, using her other dress, already dirty, to buff up her boots. She stood. “Stay here.”

  She disappeared through the door, taking the dirty things with her returning moments later, her cheeks rosy from the heat of the kitchen. The clothes were gone and she had a damp hanky in her hand, using it to wipe Mera’s face, hands, and finally calves.

  “Tansy! Stop it, I’m not a baby, I can wash my own face, wh-”

  “ We don’t have time! You’ll only dither or question why first, their Highness’ are leaving the throne room now! We have moments to present you to them, before they meet with the main party, unless you want us both disgraced in front of as many people as possible. Please, Princess.”

  “No! You can’t take me to them! I’ll hurry, please. I was going to sneak round to the Gardens, go through the training yard. Please, they don’t have to know I’m late again, I don’t want to get in trouble! You don’t want to get in trouble either! Please, Tansy, I’m sorry.”

  Tansy frowned down at her, wringing the cloth. Obviously considering the suggestion. “Alright, alright. No lying though, we’ll make it seem as if you were waiting in the Gardens. But no lying, if their Highness ask you tell the truth.” she sighed “ We’ll both have to accept the consequences. I’ll take you through the servants quarters, it’ll be much quicker, now let’s run.”

  She grabbed Meredith’s hand, and they didn’t run, but she led a fast pace. There was a fine tremble to Tansy’s hand, a gleam in her eye. She was actually not that much older than Meredith, a woman grown, but perhaps only five years older. Meredith suspected, now that she had said sorry and they had a plan, that Tansy was a little excited. She had helped cover for her in the past. She led them through the main corridors, into the narrower, winding ones. In all was a steady stream of Palace servants, dressed in the household colours of cream and maroon, hurrying as they were. Many cast knowing glances their way, but Meredith knew word of their passing would not reach her mother. The job of the servants, after all, was to make everything run smoothly. The corridors occasionally gave way to stairs, they took those leading down. They took a more direct root under the palace, rather that traverse it. Tansy increased their pace, suddenly turning to one side, leading them up a long spiral staircase. At the top she paused, gently opening the door, and peeked through.

  “ Come on, I can’t see anyone…”

  The door led into the guest wing, overlooking the Gardens. They hall they entered was a small one, at the end of which was an elegant door, thrown open to the night. It opened onto a shallow balcony, the well tended expanses of the Gardens awaiting beyond. She could already hear the skirling music of reed instruments, and a low murmur of voices. If it was low then the main party had not arrived yet. She shared a relieved grin with Tansy, whilst she made some final adjustments to her clothing, smiling back. They had made it in time. Tansy opened her mouth to say something, when a polite cough forestalled her.

  They turned in unison, eyes wide, Mera’s lower lip already firmly between her teeth. Tansy’s hand came to rest on her arm, a warning made out of habit. At the other end of the hall an older gentleman stood waiting and when Mera realized he wasn’t someone she knew, she let out her breath and took a closer look. He was old, grey streaking the hair that brushed his shoulders, blending with the warm tones of brown, copper, and chestnut. Hazel eyes squinted them into focus from beneath a brooding brow. His lean frame stooped in travel worn clothes that looked like they may have once been fine, but now a good wash wouldn’t even save them. His clean but crumpled white shirt seemed bright in comparison, even with the large ink stains decorating the sleeves.

  Tansy dropped into a curtsy, her face lowered respectfully. She always behaved proper in front of others, specially if they were nobles, or guests. She only harangued her in private. Tansy’s curtsy reminded her that she was in the palace proper now and had to be a princess. She tried not to sigh, stopped chewing her lip and gave a gracious bob. “Greetings, sir. I hope we did not startle you, my maid had something to tell me. I am Princess Mera, will you be joining the festivities?” That was proper, she glanced at Tansy.

  The gentleman bowed to her. “ It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Meredith. I am Tomas. Yes, indeed I am going to the festivities. Well, trying to. It’s been awhile since I’ve been to this fair city, and I got lost trying to find the throne room. How, I don’t know, it’s not as if the oculus isn’t big enough. Amazing design…Er, I managed to find a servant who kindly gave me directions…only to end up, well, here. Where I started.” He looked puzzled at the end of his greeting, his deep voice rumbling to a close. His accent strange. Mera instantly him. She smiled.

  “ That’s not a problem, we can just go to the Gardens from here, their Highness’ are now on their way there anyway. That will be all, Tansy. You may find your own fire.” She hoped Tansy could see the gratitude in her eyes, and that the stable hand would be waiting for her.

  Tansy gave one last, deep curtsy. “As the Princess bids.” She murmured, and left the way they had come.

  Tomas offered his arm, as if she were already a lady of court rather than a child. She lightly laid down her palm, trying to imitate what she had seen those ladies do. The top of her head barely reached his chest. “I
t would be an honour to escort you, Princess. It seems you are my saviour. I find it impossible to be anywhere on time, and now to find that anywhere at all!”

  He benignly patted her hand, and she led them through the door, and out into the night. Towards the flickering glow of bonfires, and tumult of excited voices.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Death

  Llew tried to exude a calm exterior, tried to wear the polite mask that all nobles wore, but it was a struggle. His body trembled with excitement, this was what he loved. His countrymen out in fine array, expensive clothes, perfumes fogging the night air, witty repertoire thrown like steel daggers. All basking in his father’s wealth, his father’s palace, his father’s power. King Gaillardia of Danua. And they loved him. He looked around at the smiling peerage, and as they looked upon his father their haunty expressions slipped, revealing true warmth. Of course they looked upon Llew like that, he knew he was the darling of the court, but they even looked upon Queen Jessamine with fondness. They watched his father and bond mother together and smiled. Smiled! He didn’t understand. He didn’t see what was so special about her, what made his father so infatuated, what made the nobles like her so much. Yes she was a noble in her own right, a lineage as old as his he could perhaps begrudge, but before his father married her all the court ladies vied for his attentions. Some beautiful, powerful and not much older than Llew himself. He didn’t understand why his father chose her, and he didn’t understand why there seemed to be absolutely no resentment amongst those he refused. They just whispered sadly of a chance at happiness.

  Carved wooden chairs had been set upon a raised greensward for the royal family, and there they sat now whilst servants busied about them, setting cosies beneath their feet, offering warmed wine. He impatiently waved them all away from him, staring at his parents as they waited for Mera. His farther was a magnificent man, tall in stature, wide shoulders and a barrel chest. Llew knew from some of the few training bouts he had shared with his father that he was very muscled, his arms as big around as Llew’s waist. It made him long to be a man.