Dagger's Sleep, page 4
part #1 of Beyond the Tales Series
Her Fae-enhanced beauty would help. Rosanna studied Mother’s line-free face, black hair trailing gracefully around her face. How many of the Tuckawassee knew what Rosanna looked like, besides the small raiding party she’d met that morning? Had they ever paid attention to her?
Probably not. Without a gift or a curse, there wasn’t much to her. Not until this, anyway.
Father’s eyes crinkled, as if he wanted to say something romantic but didn’t in front of all of them. His expression sobered back into tight lines seconds later. “I don’t like the thought of you going into danger.”
“A hundred years ago, our ancestors pledged that they, their children, and descendants would remain loyal to the high king. That vow applies just as much to me as it does to Rosanna and you. Besides,” Mother squeezed Father’s arm, “with the army marching on Castle Eyota, this castle might not be much safer than traveling with the army.”
Father rested his other hand over Mother’s. “Very well. You’ll travel with me and the army.”
Willem stared at the tabletop, hand flexing, perhaps thinking about the pen he would soon wield. “I’ll stay here and look after the castle. Tonight, I’ll work on missives we can send to the other kingdoms.”
At the wistful sound in his voice, Rosanna tried to meet his gaze, but he wouldn’t look at her. Was he too thinking about lack of choices? Thanks to his curse that he couldn’t leave Neskahana’s borders, Willem had no choice but to stay behind, even if, as crown prince, it was the wisest decision anyway.
Perhaps that was why he’d been given the gift of charismatic writing. With a pen, he could convince just about anyone over to his way of thinking if he had a mind to.
“I can go with Rosanna.” Berend leaned his chair back onto two legs once again. “With me around, she’ll be beary protected.”
“With all due respect, Your Highness,” Captain Degotaga shook his head, his mouth twitching as if he was trying not to smile, “while I would appreciate the gift you would bring, I don’t think your sleep schedule is compatible with the sort of traveling hours we will need to keep. We might travel during the night occasionally, but not the whole way due to the unpredictable terrain and unfamiliar rivers.”
“Oh.” Berend frowned, but the frown only lasted a second. “Then can I go with the army? You’ll be moving a lot slower and will have supply boats and wagons I can curl up in if I need to during the day. I can help scout ahead during the night and stuff like that.”
Father heaved a sigh but nodded. “You’ll have to obey Colonel Hassun’s orders. No going off by yourself.”
Colonel Hassun cleared his throat, stood, and pulled one of the rolled maps from the trunk along the wall behind the dais. “We should discuss the routes we’ll take, so we can see to properly outfitting both the army and Captain Degotaga’s men for the journey.”
He unrolled the map on the table, and Captain Degotaga set river pebbles at the four corners to hold it flat.
Daemyn stepped closer and pointed. “I think you should take the army on the northerly route up the Onohio River to the Cheyandoah Trace and from there down the Gaulee River to Castle Eyota. It’s the route the Tuckawassee would expect you to take, and it’s the best suited for moving large numbers of men. You should have the support of Buckhannock, and possibly Monongadotte as well.”
Rosanna leaned forward in her seat to see the map, trying to picture Tallahatchia spread out in waves of green-covered mountains. How much of it would she be able to see on this journey?
“Yes.” Father stood as well. “And it’ll force the Tuckawassee to travel long distances to attack us. But where will you lead Rosanna? You’ll have to stay far away from my army if you want the distraction to work.”
Daemyn paused, glanced at Father, then back down at the map. “I’d like to travel by river, taking mostly the small streams. We’ll take the Neskahana River to Grassy Lick Creek, portage across the mountains, and from there work our way on a southern loop until we reach Castle Eyota from the south.”
Father stiffened. “That will take you through Tuckawassee.”
“Exactly. They wouldn’t expect the promised princess to walk right through their kingdom. And most of their men will be fighting you to the north.” Daemyn tapped the map. “No route is safe. No matter what way we go, Major Beshko is here. She’ll do her best to track us on whatever route we take. If we can lose her by going south, it’ll be worth the risk.”
Rosanna rubbed the callouses on her palms, gained from years of paddling her canoe on both the Neskahana and Onohio Rivers. She’d wanted an adventure, but was she ready for an adventure like this? Cutting right through the heart of Tuckawassee?
If she was the princess promised a hundred years ago, what choice did she have? Maybe this was the reason she wasn’t given a curse. She had been cursed, or perhaps honored, long before she’d been born.
Yet why hadn’t she been given a Fae gift to help her on this journey?
She would have to handle this just as she was now. She was strong. She could paddle her own canoe. That had to count for something. “How soon do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning, if His Majesty believes that will be enough time to gather the supplies we’ll need?” Daemyn gave a half bow to Father. “I will also need access to the highest tower and a torch to send my message signal tonight.”
The lines on Father’s face deepened. “Of course. I’ll begin preparations for the army at once to cover the packing for your journey.”
Tomorrow morning. Rosanna sucked in a breath. So little time to get used to the idea of leaving her family. Of this quest and danger.
And adventure.
Father stood. “This meeting is adjourned. We have a lot to do before tomorrow morning.”
As the others stood, Willem grabbed Rosanna’s arm. “Wait up a moment.”
Rosanna crossed her arms and waited. Berend grinned and sauntered from the room. Father, Mother, Colonel Hassun, and Captain Degotaga strode past deep in conversation. Daemyn slipped out after them. As he shut the door, he glanced at her before the oak closed between them.
When Rosanna faced Willem, he remained frowning at the door where Daemyn had disappeared. “You had something to say?”
Willem sighed, his shoulders hunched. “Just . . . be careful, all right?”
“I know. I’m going to have all of Tuckawassee, Pohatomie, and anyone else who doesn’t want to see the high king return after me.” Rosanna rubbed her arms. Even saying it out loud didn’t make it real. How could she be such a threat?
He shook his head. “No. Well, yes. But be careful of Daemyn Rand too.”
“Why? He’s loyal to the high king, isn’t he?” Rosanna glanced at the door to the great hall, but it remained closed. The only ones in the room were the guards by each of the door and, along the far wall, Isi talking with Willem’s bodyguard.
“Yes. That’s not a question. His family has been instrumental in stopping or warning about every Tuckawassee raid and attack for the past hundred years.” Willem met Rosanna’s gaze. “You wouldn’t remember. You were too young. And Father and Mother won’t talk about it. But I was seven when Grandfather died. Grandfather and his men were led into a trap. Arlen Rand learned it was a trap and went after them, but he was too late. When Father and the reinforcements arrived, Arlen Rand was the only survivor.”
“What does that have to do with Daemyn Rand?” Rosanna crossed her arms tighter. Dribbles of the stories about the Rand family trickled through her mind. Something about the Rands knowing more than they should, and the Tuckawassee hunting them because of it.
“Nothing, maybe. I don’t know.” Willem shook his head again. “But it isn’t the first time a Rand was the only survivor. Daemyn is the only survivor of the attack that killed his father, according to the story. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t want you to be another casualty.”
“I won’t be.” Rosanna clenched her fists against her biceps, feeling the strength she’d built up over years of canoeing on the rivers. “Captain Degotaga, Isi, and my guards will make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Did she believe that? It was hard enough to believe the danger was real, much less know how she would respond. Was this really happening? Danger? Adventure? Hopefully by tomorrow when she climbed into her canoe, it would feel like more than a legend.
CHAPTER FOUR
Alexander
One Hundred Years Ago
The seventh king, realizing what they had done and what it would cost, fell on his knees and begged forgiveness before the Highest King. For this reason, this seventh king was made high king over the others.
ALEXANDER, HIGH PRINCE of Tallahatchia, strode into his bedchamber and tugged off his boots, muddy from the hours spent outdoors training with his dagger. His shirt, soaked with sweat, landed on the floor a moment later. “Jadon! Baron Galilahi is here. I need a clean shirt—the black one should do—and my crown. You have it polished, right? And my black boots. You polished those too, I trust.”
“Yes, sir.” Jadon Rand, Alexander’s manservant, set the pitcher of water he carried on the washstand next to the basin. “I also fetched warm water.”
Good. That was one thing he appreciated about Jadon. Sometimes he managed to anticipate an order before Alex gave it.
Alex used the towel to wash the sweat and dirt from his chest, arms, and neck. Not necessarily for Baron Galilahi’s benefit. The baron, whose estate of Fishrock Cove rested in the mountains at the border of Kanawhee and Tuckawassee, was a good ally and deserved the respect of decent clothing, but he was also a warrior who understood the sweat and grime that came with training with the spear, dagger, and war ax.
No, the change of clothes and washing up had more to do with Mirabelle, Baron Galilahi’s daughter.
Mirabelle. With snapping eyes and curving mouth. Alex smiled as he pulled on the black shirt with gold embroidery, gold circlet, and signet ring with its sapphire stone that Jadon handed him. Hopefully Alex would be able to get her alone for a kiss or two or six before Baron Galilahi had to leave.
“Do you require anything else, sir?” Jadon stood back, head bowed, and shoulders hunched, as if to disguise the fact that he stood a few inches taller than Alex. Rather annoying, that, having his manservant taller than him. But, it couldn’t be helped. He should’ve guessed, when he picked a mountain boy as his manservant ten years ago, that Jadon would outgrow him.
“No, I believe that’s all. Please have my ax, spear, and dagger polished before I return.” Alex didn’t wait for Jadon to answer. His order would be done. Jadon was efficient like that.
Alex strolled from his chambers, down several hallways, and up a curved staircase inside one of the towers until he reached his father’s study.
When he stepped inside, his father, High King Atohi, already leaned against his desk. His crown held back his black hair, several eagle feathers dangling from the section of hair along the right side of his face. “Alexander. Good. You’re just in time.”
Alex joined Father, Baron Galilahi, and Colonel Micco, the commander of the castle guards, and peered at the map laid out on the desk.
Lord Galilahi pointed at the border between Kanawhee and Tuckawassee. “My scouts spotted King Hakan drilling warriors through these mountains here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s working on the best strategy to move large numbers of men from Tuckawassee to Kanawhee as quickly as possible.”
Alexander gritted his teeth. Seven kingdoms ruled by seven kings. They would dissolve into chaos if not for the high king uniting them into one country. For Tallahatchia to survive, the high king had to be strong.
Father was strong. But his enemies knew the exact day when he would become his weakest. Alexander’s twenty-first birthday. The day when, according to the curse placed upon him by a Fallen Fae, he would prick his finger with his own dagger and fall into a sleep like unto death, never to wake, along with everyone within Castle Eyota’s outer walls.
Apparently Tuckawassee was already planning to pounce, claiming the power of the high king. The other kingdoms would follow, along with all their barons. Tallahatchia would erupt into war as each of the kings fought to be the new high king.
Colonel Micco studied the map from the short side of the desk, a frown crossing his weathered face. At one time, Colonel Micco had been Father’s manservant, much as Jadon was Alex’s, but Father had released him to join the castle guards many years ago. “We should order the barons to call up the militias in Kanawhee. They should, at the very least, be prepared in case they are needed.”
Father’s shoulders were straight, but the muscles strained as if it took all his willpower to keep from slumping. “If Kanawhee calls up its militias, the other kingdoms will follow. War will be only one wrong word away.”
“War is already one word away, if Tuckawassee’s actions can be confirmed. Better we are ready than taken unawares.”
Baron Galilahi crossed his arms. “You doubt my report?”
“I’m sure Colonel Micco didn’t mean anything by it.” Father shook his head. “We don’t doubt your report, but it’s good to question the interpretation to make sure we do nothing in haste.”
Alex closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. What did they know? Tuckawassee appeared to be arming, preparing for a strike once Kanawhee was vulnerable. Did that mean they wanted war? Or perhaps they merely prepared in case one of the other nations intended to attack?
How many other of the kingdoms were already planning the same? Might they all be planning, in some way, to step in and seize the power of high king once Alex fell into his cursed sleep?
There would be a power void. The Seven Kingdoms would lose their high king, one of the few things that bound them together as a nation. And Kanawhee, one of the seven, would be kingless.
Baron Galilahi cleared his throat. “I know you don’t wish it, but please, Your Majesty, at least consider staying outside the castle on the high prince’s birthday so that if the worst happens, Tallahatchia won’t be without her high king.”
“No.” Father’s face hardened until the angles in his face cast shadows across his cheeks. “If Mirabelle was the one with this curse, would you leave her side? Would you let her sleep, never to wake, on her own? No. Whatever Alexander’s end, High Queen Verena and I will share it.”
Alex shifted. He didn’t like to contemplate what the curse would mean. Sleep without end. Never to live or move or wake until death or time ended, he didn’t know which. For that was the curse the Fallen Fae had spoken over him eight days after he was born.
Baron Galilahi drew in another breath, but Alex spoke first. “Besides, whether my parents fall asleep now or die years later, it doesn’t make a difference in the larger scheme of things. I am their only heir. If the curse happens, the line of the high kings dies with me no matter what happens to my parents.”
Baron Galilahi’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded. Of course, he did. Alex was the intelligent one. He could see all the obvious answers everyone else wasn’t gifted enough to notice.
Alex didn’t voice the other solution he could pursue—perhaps should’ve pursued a year ago. He should’ve gotten married, even if it meant marrying young, and had a child by now to leave behind an heir when he fell asleep.
Yet what good would that have done, to leave a young wife and child behind? If the Tuckawassee king or any of the other kings of Tallahatchia were desperate enough for power, they could take it just as easily from a young queen and her babe as they could with no heir at all.
“You haven’t found another who you can name as heir?” Colonel Micco waved a hand toward the stacks of genealogy records filling one of the corners behind Father’s desk.
“None close enough to be considered an heir in the direct line. Almost all the other six kingdoms have some ancestor related to the high kings, giving all of them a nearly equal claim to the high king’s crown, should they pursue it.” Father rubbed at his face, as if he was weary enough to need never-ending sleep after all the late nights he’d spent lately.
Who could sleep well with Alex’s curse hanging over them, inevitably drawing closer with each day?
Alex traced a hand over the jewel-studded end of the high king’s scepter where it lay across its stand at the corner of Father’s desk. It was an ugly scepter, a misshapen log some long ago king had deemed important enough to dress up with a few jewels. Father’s crown, a far nicer and elegant sculpture of gold and silver, rested a few inches from the scepter’s end.
Who would wear the crown and carry this scepter if Alex couldn’t?
He curled his fingers. That crown and scepter were his birthright. He was the high prince. By right of his birth, he deserved to one day wield all the power signified in those objects. What a high king he would be, with his superior intelligence. He would create a Tallahatchia like no one had seen before.
Why did all of that have to be snatched away by some Fallen Fae’s petty curse?
Alex stepped away from the desk and paced. Did he have to fall to the curse? That was a question he’d asked himself ever since his seventh birthday when he’d learned about the curse.
On that day, he’d come up with a plan. He’d convinced Father to allow daggers back into the castle, on the condition they would be banished again on Alex’s twenty-first birthday since the curse wouldn’t strike until then. He himself had trained with a dagger so pricking himself wouldn’t happen due to clumsiness or unfamiliarity with the weapon. He would give his dagger away the night before his birthday, since the wording of the curse specifically said he would prick his finger on his own dagger.
What else could he do to avoid it? Surely he hadn’t been gifted with intelligence without a purpose. There had to be a way for him to think his way out of this in the three months before his birthday.
Perhaps he didn’t have to avoid it. Or end it. No, he had to get it removed. Take away any possibility the curse could happen at all.
A Fae had cursed him. Only a Fae could undo it.
