28. Chapter 28
The next day we led the horses on foot to Loamil.
It was a hub of sorts that was known to be bustling with the trade of many sought-after foods and goods, as they could only be grown in these lands.
All thanks to Ednos, giant of the earth’s blessings.
Instead of wheat and crops, gray dust now coated our boots as we trampled through the dying fields, covering us and our horses in grime.
Despite the blight, it seemed Aksyn had blessed us with an overcast sky to protect us from the grueling sun.
I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Ora about the events at Fernwick.
I could tell she was trying to grant me space but remained present in the moment for when I was ready.
Peiro stayed silent by my side, providing small moments of comfort with the occasional hand hold or by tucking a stray hair behind my ear.
His reassuring smile made my heart flutter, even when it threatened to break at the thought of what my hands had so easily done and tried to do.
As we walked, I thought back to Fernwick. Ora had made a small round through the town, talking to the people about restoration and freedom from Dokvalon, spurring unity and their promise to help her seek vengeance when she called for it.
I promise you this, we will bring you justice.
We will rebuild! I may not know of Dokvalon’s schemes, but if you rally with me, we will take on their king with the might only true Grians know!
Will you answer my call? Will you take back what is rightfully yours?
Will you right the wrongs done to your people and kingdom?
Ora’s eyes shone bright as her voice boomed loudly.
I could have sworn the volume of the townspeople’s cheers threatened to rock the foundation of what buildings remained.
Even though Ora and Sury’s commitment to one another and Gria wasn’t defined on paper, you could still sense their loyalty to their kingdom.
Many women ogled Ora and her natural way of shining, while many men were happy to discuss hunting and trade with Sury.
A few women casually sauntered up to Sury and complimented him on his…
bow. The compliments sounded strange and ignited an hilarious sense of jealousy in Ora, who figuratively puffed her feathers to shoo the women away.
The same women could be found casually propped against Fyom, who looked simultaneously lost and flattered. He mouthed help once but Peiro merely chuckled, knowing Fyom did not in fact need any sort of saving. I think that was the first time I’d ever witnessed Fyom shy and blushing.
Peiro and I stood close to Ora and Sury, taking note of the people’s cries and what they most desperately needed, despite the obvious need of rebuilding the life they once knew. As we left, children threw small flowers at Ora’s feet—sun lilies.
My toe hit a hardened stalk of a dead plant, pulling me back into our walk.
Most of the way was flat, but the small hill we crested revealed something ironic.
Loamil and its manor was just how it had been the last time I visited, years ago—still covered in green.
The township was off to the west but appeared as a ghost town.
To the east, the gray fields stopped in their tracks about half a league away from Loamil Manor.
My heart sank at the thought there was no longer any food for people to trade with.
There was no wall or barrier that protected Loamil Manor from the residents, and only a vast forest lined its back.
This place was known for peace and civility and held a special pride.
Many from Fernwick remarked how the ladyship provided to all with fairness—even if she seemed unapproachable.
I thought about how Lady Simret was typically severe during court, but she had fought hard for her people, showing love and dignity.
As it turned out, her people loved her every bit as fiercely in return.
The crunch of dead grass and crops turned back into a lush and soft earth.
Small bits of dew washed away the grime that had clung to us as we marched forward.
Remnants of a gravel pathway began to take shape and grow together toward a wide garden that radiated with color.
Raised planters and pots were spread throughout an array of ferns and palms and fruit trees.
Trimmed shrubs lined parts of the pathway that led up to a sweeping set of grand stairs, which led to another level before reaching the front doors.
We handed the horses off to a stable hand as I took in the estate and its washed stones.
Grand glass doors matched the series of arched windows, patterned along the front and with a shrubbery container under each one.
The gravel pathway snaked behind the manor to other paths, all lined with bright plants.
Fyom stopped for a moment, a mere foot from the stone steps that led to the front door, and looked up at the bricks and stone designs set in the face of the manor.
“What is it?” I craned my head up to Fyom. It was almost amusing how, even at my average height for Grian women, I felt so small next to him.
He smiled warmly as he looked down at me and placed his hand in mine.
“Regardless of what we feel, we must find the courage to face what approaches us.” His eyes held an encouragement about them.
I sensed he had a double meaning but was too afraid to ask.
Fyom looked back up at the manor, almost in awe.
“History has a way of resurfacing, regardless of whether we feel ready or not.” He released a shaky breath before taking the steps by two.
“Wait! Would it be wise for the sisters to stay behind? Until we know more of her stance?” Sury caught up to Fyom’s side. “Or until we know for certain this isn’t a ploy by Beralt? She never returned to Grianmore after the attack.”
“I have this handled,” Fyom said as he banged his fist against the iron frame of the door.
Almost instantly an older, pudgy man with thinning gray hair and a bulbous nose could be seen as he hurried to the doors.
His stress was evident as he worked the locks to swing the door in his direction.
He looked at us all from our boots to our clothes and made a bitter face.
It was almost astonishing how much one person could frown.
“Can I help you?” Even the man’s voice was full of scorn.
“Yes, good sir. We’re here to seek an audience with the ladyship of this estate,” Fyom said with perfect propriety. I laughed under my breath at how seriously he took his role on my sister’s council.
“If you’re here for your rations, might I remind you they were given five suns ago and there won’t be another set of rations for another three suns’ time. Her Ladyship is doing what she can for the people so, like everyone else, you will simply have to wait.”
Her Ladyship. Hope was reignited that Lady Simret was still alive. If it was indeed Lady Simret and not a gambit set by an opposing force, then I knew Ora had an ally in this fight. Or at least we could pray for sympathy from one woman to another.
Fyom nodded his head as he spoke. “May I ask you your name, sir?”
The man huffed. “John-Carl, if you must know.”
“John-Carl, thank you so kindly for giving us the humbling news. However, we are here for another matter. Grian business.”
“Grian business.” The man huffed again before he made another perturbed face at Fyom. “Her Ladyship is currently indisposed—“
“Tell her,” Fyom interrupted, the propriety vanishing, “that Fyom Tresdore is at her door. She’ll answer.”
Fyom spoke very little of his past and family, yet the surname sounded wholly familiar.
I just couldn’t place my finger on it. The steward mumbled under his breath and closed the door, turning on his heel in the direction he’d come from.
Moments later, John-Carl returned with a frail-looking woman in a deep crimson colored dress and reopened the door.
His eyes held a small sparkle when he gazed upon the maid as he gave orders for her to direct us to the drawing room, while he called another servant to take our travel bags.
“Did you see that?” Ora whispered beside me.
“What? The grumpy-ass?”
“Yes, but the way he and the maid looked at one another. Wasn’t it cute?”
I rolled my eyes as we followed the maid.
Inside, the manor practically mimicked a glass house.
Iron-rimmed windows lined the wall to allow the sun’s rays to peek through, adding to the faint humidity of the entryway.
Columns were spaced evenly in beautiful arches and green ferns lined the floor for an added touch.
Finally, we were led to a large door on the right before the woman vanished from sight.
The room was bright and much too clean for any of us to stand in, let alone sit.
White couches and patterned rugs adorned the room and were illuminated by the floor-to-ceiling windows, all encased in a deep cherry wood.
One of the walls housed a large enough fireplace that I was certain a small horse could fit into it.
The older maid returned with a large wooden tray holding a silver decanter of mugs and plates for small jelly-filled biscuits, and set it down in the middle of a large wooden tea table between the couches.
Sury locked eyes on the tray and naturally rounded right for the treats.
As if sensing that he was about to sit his dusty body on the pristine furniture, the woman produced a gray sheet at lightning speed and set it on the couch right as Sury sat.
She quickly produced more sheets to cover the remaining furniture before taking her leave.
I sat opposite Sury, too tense to eat. Ora followed suit right beside me, almost trying to sit on her hands to seemingly control her nerves.
Peiro took his usual stance and found a wooden desk to lean on while Fyom rested his shoulder near the windows and interlocked his fingers behind his back.
He turned to look out the freshly cleaned glass and stared at the forest. He was strangely silent and more tense than normal.
A thunderous exchange could be heard outside the door, with the distinct voice of the old steward getting scolded by another woman.
Soon, the door to the drawing room burst open.
The loud bang made me jump as I watched a petite woman with rich brown skin wearing a dress in a lovely shade of plum stomp across the room toward Fyom.
Her graying dark hair was pulled into a chignon bun with a gold embellishment sticking out from the base, and a golden necklace lay perfectly on her delicate clavicle, warming her skin.
But I knew this woman was not delicate at all.
Lady Simret.