Chapter 16
I tightened the wool cloak around my shoulders to warm myself against the autumnal damp and crisp air.
Grey clouds covered the sky beyond, but the rain had finally stopped, and the day-to-day life of the castle and city resumed as normal.
My new leather boots squished the damp ground beneath my wool dress as I shifted my weight from leg to leg, trying to stay warm while we waited for Celeste and Astorath to be readied to leave for Lord and Lady Toolock’s farm.
After dropping off Cora with the governess and enduring a breakfast with a few nobles and the queen, Darragh informed me quietly in the stables that he had secured a meeting with a couple of staff members of the farm who could speak to us about Psilas, but we were going there in secret.
Lord Toolock refused me a meeting, so Darragh decided to circumvent him entirely and reached out to a staff member he knew who used to be in the guard.
Lord and Lady Toolock were rarely seen at the farm, as nobles didn't dirty their hands or lower themselves to such peasantry. They just profited off it.
“There ye be, miss,” Ketlus said as his knotted fingers finished tying off the last of the saddle straps. “She’s all ready for yer ride ‘round the city.”
“You’re an absolute gem, Ketlus. Thank you,” I beamed.
His gummy smile widened.
“And yer horse, Cap’m,” he gestured to Astorath.
Darragh gave the old daemonite an appreciative nod and mounted his horse with ease.
I watched him settle in the saddle. He would look terrifying in battle atop his ebony horse.
His large form was dressed mostly in black leather and a woolen cloak, a sword strapped to his back, and two silver daggers at each hip.
A sliver of his arm tattoo peeked out of the sleeve.
He would certainly scare the shit out of me if I had to go up against him.
Darragh turned to me and cocked his one eyebrow up. “Ready, my lady?”
I looked around and realized I was still standing in the middle of the stable, staring at him.
My word, Rory. Stop being awkward!
“Yes. Sorry.” I mounted Celeste and positioned my skirts over the saddle.
We rode side by side at a canter out of the castle gates, into the city, and across the cobblestone streets.
Lingering puddles splashed as we rode through.
The city grew smaller in the distance as we rode over a dirt road into the countryside dotted with thatched-roof homes, pastures of cattle, empty fields of long-since-harvested crops, and patches of forest. The distant snowcapped mountains towered over the landscape.
As we approached the edge of a forest, Darragh slowed Astorath to a walk, and Celeste followed suit. I pulled my wool cloak tighter around my shoulders and turned toward him. “Thank you for putting this together. I know it's at great risk to you and everyone else at this farm.”
“You’re welcome, my lady,” his trebled voice replied, and he kept his eyes forward, scanning the horizon.
“Rory,” I pushed. “Any leads on who destroyed part of the city yesterday? That must have been terrifying for everyone.”
“They are currently being hunted, but nothing yet.”
Even with reins in my hand, I fidgeted with my fingers. “Should I be worried?”
“No. You are safe. The castle is protected with enchants and you are always with an escort.
An easy silence extended between us as our horses found a rhythm in their gait. An hour of quiet contemplation ended as we entered the property of a large farm estate. Countless pastures of horses, cattle, and fluffy sheep stretched into the countryside, leading to a barn and large stables.
Darragh turned to me in the saddle. “We are to meet with Lyrik, a fifth-generation blacksmith to the estate. He said he knows someone we can talk to who has been around for a long time and knows of Psilas.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I wonder how many generations removed he is from when Psilas lived here.”
“From what I understand, he was born not long after Psilas died.”
I tilted my head and stared at him. “That would mean this seraph is…”
“One hundred and thirty-six years old,” he stated.
I blinked repeatedly, not comprehending. Surely, he jested. The corner of his mouth turned up as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
“How long do seraphs live?” I asked.
“We can live to around one hundred and fifty on the older end. Do humans have such short life spans?”
“You have a good fifty to seventy years on us. Strength, enchants, and longer lives. Seraphs really are the Divine’s favorite.”
His previous smirk fell. “Don’t be so sure of that.”
Before I could ask what he meant, a man with salt-and-pepper hair strolled down the path leading to the barn and met us as we pulled our horses to a stop and dismounted.
He wore a stained apron, and his skin was tan and leathery from days in the sun.
“Well, Darragh, I haven’t seen you in quite some time.
Still pissing off the royals?” He grinned.
“Just by existing,” Darragh said dryly. “Lyrik, this is Lady Aurora.”
Lyrik stepped around Darragh and approached with a bow. “My lady. A pleasure to have you at Toolock Farm. Do you need anything?”
I smiled warmly. “Please, call me Rory, and I am perfectly fine. Thank you for meeting with me.”
Lyrik’s posture relaxed. “Please, please, come in.” He placed my arm in his and swept me by Darragh.
“I will take you to meet Frabo, who is most excited to tell you some stories. He has bored us for years with ramblings, so just signal when you feel like you may fall asleep, and I will gladly step in and rescue you.”
“I am sure I will manage, but thank you.” I swallowed a laugh.
Lyrik led us to a large building that housed the estate servants.
A farm this size would require a hefty staff on hand.
At a table in the main room, a seraph sat, hunched over, slicing up an apple with shaky hands.
His upper back was kyphotic from years of laboring on the farm, and every inch of his skin wrinkled and puckered.
Lyrik yelled at an alarming volume, “Frabo! You have a lovely young lady here to visit with you!”
Frabo abandoned his apple and looked up with a smile. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed with a wobbly voice. “And I may be somewhat hard of hearing, but there's no need to scream, Lyrik. You’re being an asshole.”
Lyrik snickered. Darragh groaned.
“Come sit, my lady.” Frabo patted the seat next to him.
I sat down in the rickety wooden chair. “It is nice to meet you, Frabo. I’m Rory, and I am from Edenalee. I was told you may have some information about another human who came here before me.”
“So polite and pretty!” Frabo noted. “Yes, I can try and answer whatever questions you have about ‘ole Psilas.”
I patted his hand. “Thank you. First, how do you know so much about him?”
“My deceased brother worked with Psilas on this farm when he was barely more than sixteen. He told me stories about working with a human.”
“Did Psilas tell your brother how he got from Edenalee to this side of the wall?” I asked a little too quickly.
Frabo shook his head. “Psilas maintained he never understood how he ended up in a forest of Tironaill. It was a mystery to everyone back then, as it is now.”
My shoulders slumped, defeated, but I had come this far, and I needed to keep asking questions.
I steadied my tone. “What was Psilas like here? What did he do for fun?”
Frabo looked to the ceiling, searching for the information.
“Well, my brother said he liked to dance and drink. Sometimes he would drink too much for his own good, and the rest of the farmhands would egg him on to see what foolish things they could get him to do while drunk. He taught a good number of them how to make mead, too. Good mead. He used plants like honeysuckle, mushrooms, blackcurrant, dandelions, and berries he would find around the farm or in the forest. We still use his recipes here at the farm to this day! It’s a big hit at the market from what I am told. ”
Psilas was a drunk. Lovely.
“I see,” I said with a phony smile.
“Oh, and my brother did say that Psilas was testing out a new mead recipe before waking up on this side of the wall. He tried to recreate it here but couldn’t get the ingredients right. I’d wager it was because he was drunk when he was creating it and sampled it too often.”
I blinked, and my eyes widened for a moment. I looked over to Lyrik. “Do you have his failed recipe by chance?”
Lyrik nodded. “Possibly. It wasn’t his best concoction, so we don’t make it, but I will see if I can find the book that he wrote all his recipes in.
It’s likely in the staff kitchen, collecting dust. We know our favorite meads by heart, so we haven’t touched that book in a long time. Let me see if I can find it.”
Lyrik ambled toward the kitchen, and Darragh pulled up a chair next to me and turned it around, straddling it. He relaxed his posture. “What are your thoughts?”
I met his chestnut eyes. “I want to see what he put in that mead. Maybe it was something specific he used that helped him travel through the wall unharmed. I am well-schooled in herbalism, so I might be able to figure out what each plant can do.”
Darragh’s eyes moved back and forth, and he ran the tip of his tongue between his teeth. “Then how would you and Cora have moved through the threshing wall? You don’t seem the type of parent to give her child mead.”
I huffed a laugh. “You’re right. We certainly weren’t making mead and dri…” I gasped. “We drank tinctures right before falling through the barrier,” I whispered to myself.
“What?” Darragh leaned into me.
“Greta, my mentor. She gave us tinctures to drink before we moved through the barrier and wound up here! I don’t know what was in them, but it was a tincture for anxiety during our travel. I couldn’t place all the herbs she used.”
“You think you drank an herb or plant that caused you to pass through the wall unharmed?”