CHAPTER NINE #3
“No!” Phinara shouted suddenly, both hands rising to cover her mouth.
“You mean to say, he sought you out?” I could not disguise the surprised pitch of my voice as I turned away, fingers drawing to the dip of my neck.
I tapped there, gently, to steady myself.
It seemed outside the realm of reason; each and every Lunamorian knew the dangers that awaited us beyond the wall, and it was almost never sanctioned.
Sentinels were the only branch of our kingdom who could leave safely, though even they only went out for short periods of time for training, and stayed very near.
The puckered flesh on my back began to itch before I dared to voice the question. My words came out low and uneven, as if I worried that even from here, Father might hear me.
“Does the king know?”
I couldn’t identify the emotion that crossed Phinara’s face. A mixture of the most palpable fear, and something deeper, more guarded. But Phinara’s jaw was set, and I had my answer in the terror that widened her tearful eyes.
If Bjorn facilitated Vicar’s crossing without consulting Father or the Council, he risked life and limb.
Why would he do that for the baker’s child?
I’d witnessed my father’s version of justice firsthand, and I imagined so too had Bjorn.
Very little would be worth invoking the king’s ire.
I could barely comprehend the implications of her words, yet Bjorn’s complicity was the only conclusion that explained delivering the medicine himself.
But why keep the medicine secret if it had the power to help the girl?
The answer burned brightly before me. A possibility scarcely comprehendible.
No. There were limits to what I would believe. Vicar crossing the Threshold with the King’s Scholar assistance had already stretched my mind. But to think the medicine itself might be forbidden…
I stepped towards Phinara, a cautious gaze spared for the still-sleeping child as I reduced my tone to a barely-there whisper. The question was dangerous for us both, but my desire for truth outweighed all else.
“Is it… sorcery?”
Phinara studied me, the faint quiver of her lip indicating her ripened fear.
I, too, was frightened by the very prospect.
It may have only been half, but Lunamorian blood coursed through my veins.
We were only safe from magic within the kingdom.
We all knew not one spark of sorcery was possible here, and that fact was the only reason Lunamorians had been able to thrive.
Before the Council found a way to repel the magic, we’d been little more than meals for beasts and fiends, our blood a sacrifice for their spells.
We didn’t know how it worked, but we did know we were now protected from the early grave sorcery promised Lunamorians.
Stars above. If the King’s Scholar could smuggle potions within our walls, were any of us truly safe?
“I shouldn’t have come,” I said quickly. My pulse was audible now, an inescapable thrumming souring my stomach. “I must leave.”
“Wait!” Phinara cried out. It was only her desperation that kept me rooted to the spot. “Please, if you were to speak a word of what’s happened…”
“I won’t tell anyone,” I promised, though I avoided her eyes. “I only wanted to learn the truth.”
Phinara joined her daughter once more on the bench. She reached for the girl, the backs of her fingers ghosting that flushed cheek.
“We believe in the horrors of the Threshold, Princess. We knew what would happen,” Phinara said softly. “But there was no choice in the matter. Not for any of us.”
I couldn’t imagine the position they’d found themselves in.
I didn’t have a daughter, or anyone who relied on me in that way.
Nor did I have a living mother, or a father willing to court disaster on my behalf.
I watched the two in their quiet moment, Phinara’s thumb drawing over the girl’s forehead to remove the auburn strands pasted to her skin.
There was a tenderness there I could not relate to. An affection.
Perhaps love was stronger than fear.
I steeled myself against the frightening prospect of existing in the same space as sorcery. I had laid eyes on the Threshold and survived, hadn’t I? I’d managed then, and I would manage now, if only to learn something real.
“What did Bjorn say?” I asked, tone reverting to the expectant royal so that I might dissuade my discomfort. “How did he convince you that crossing would lead to anything but ruin?”
“Your Highness, please understand. I don’t know that I should reveal any more than I already have.”
Where distress dissipated, irritation took its place.
I didn’t need to threaten her, I reminded myself, because we both knew her choice was an illusion.
If she didn’t relinquish the information I sought, I could inform upon her and Bjorn both, and their futures would be in the hands of the King of Lunamor—a fate I would not wish on my worst enemy.
Then again, I would also be offering myself for his judgment.
“I said I won’t tell anyone, and I meant it.” I took an imploring step in her direction. “I only… I must know the truth.”
A floorboard creaked behind me, the sound causing my heart to stumble over itself. There was no time to conceal my identity, so instead I turned with my head held high, only to be met with wide-set, hooded eyes whose icy blue color mirrored my own.
Bjorn lowered his hood, releasing a mane of muted blonde hair, but left his beard tucked into his cloak. He wielded his Soran identity unashamedly, and I envied him for that.
“Your Highness,” Bjorn said, his deep voice filling the emptiness of the room.
It was impossible not to notice how painfully handsome he was despite his age.
Unlike mine and Linus’ comparatively delicate features, his were striking and distinguished.
A strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, and wide nose were all perfectly proportional to his face.
Even the wear of time on his faintly golden skin only served to enhance his appearance.
“The stars must have aligned for us both to be visiting Mistress Umfrey on this day, the Feast of Comets.”
“Perhaps,” I managed, straightening my posture. “If I am not mistaken, this is your second visit since dawn. How did you enter? I latched the door.”
Phinara adjusted her positioning as if she were going to stand, but Bjorn raised a hand and her movement ceased.
“As I’m sure Miss Umfrey has informed you, I delivered medicine on her late husband’s behalf.” Bjorn leaned against the doorframe, his sheer mass, clad in royal purple, blocking the exit. His demeanor was absent of shock—if anything, he appeared expectant.
“Ah, yes, the medicine. Tell me, where did it come from?” I allowed my head to tilt, curiosity evident.
“She saw Vicar cross,” Phinara blurted out.
My gaze slithered in her direction, but the squeak she emitted was pathetic enough that I couldn’t hold my attention there for long.
Bjorn nodded slowly, the corners of his eyes indenting with understanding. “I didn’t know you were assigned that far east,” he mused.
I locked eyes with him once more, perhaps too impressed with myself as I replied, “I wasn’t.”
Time seemed to slow as the smallest voice I’d ever heard sounded from the bench, dousing the fire in my chest at once.
“I’m hungry, Mama.”
My head whipped in Astrid’s direction only to see the girl with groggy eyes reaching for her mother. Her flush had vanished, and although the sleep had yet to leave her face, she appeared well.
Phinara’s cries erupted through the dwelling as she pulled Astrid into a crushing embrace.
Her relief was overflowing as she squeezed her daughter, rocking back and forth.
“Oh, praise the stars! And praise you, Scholar Bjorn!” She held the back of her daughter’s head, my presence forgotten entirely.
It was Bjorn’s deep voice that pulled me from my shock, beckoning my attention his way.
“Well then,” he said, his cold blue eyes sparkling against the firelight. “I suppose it is time, Princess, that we become better acquainted.”