Chapter Three What An Absolutely Stupid Idea
The queen’s voice rang clear through the village square of Sage Ravine.
Half-timber houses and shops surrounded us on all sides, the dusk graying them.
The cobblestone gathering area and connected alleyways were packed with citizens foregoing supper to see their queen.
Young children had climbed the sculpture of the fountain to see better.
The village’s signature sage seal was engraved on pillars and carved into window shutters and doorway lintels.
It was like a Ren Faire without the strollers and Porta Potties.
I was standing in the mouth of one alley gripping my satchel tightly, trying to resist the crowd’s push for fear of making contact with the stocky man in a floured apron next to me.
He smelled of nutty yeast and I couldn’t risk a smear of white powder across my maroon dress.
Children’s voices peppered the crowd, high from an unexpected vacation from the end-of-day routine.
I had expected Sage Ravine to be centered around a castle in which we would speak to a small group of leaders.
..not the entire village. A trio of women in front of me shifted their stance and I caught a better glimpse of the queen on the block stage.
Queen Elthra wore her hair knotted tightly to the back of her head and had donned her golden armor for the first time since Castle Creneda.
The only jewel she wore was the mood ring I’d given her.
I wondered if her unusual simplicity was brought out for wartime PR purposes or if it was her standard rule to dress down when among the commoners.
At her side stood Lord Parable and Lady Ariana, and a set of soldiers holding torches to give light to the stage as a purple dusk fell.
Her captain of the guard, Sir Aaron Key, stood well behind her.
He was taller than the queen and used his height to scan the crowd continuously over her shoulder.
The long scar ending at his chin seemed to only enhance his good looks.
To the front, just a step below Queen Elthra, was Ironclaw.
Draw wasn’t on the plaza stage, which didn’t surprise me, but neither could I spot him in the crowd. I had wanted to stand with him for the queen’s speech, but I was shunted to the shadow of the bakery walls as soon as the queen arrived and dismounted from her horse.
Queen Elthra’s voice pitched. “Which is why folk from across the realm have flocked to my cause.” She paused dramatically. “To take down the Dark Mage, we need magic might of our own!”
A cheer went up. That was my cue. Approximately fifteen minutes ago, Ariana had come to tell me that the queen expected me to impress the crowd.
“What? I can’t speak in front of all these people.
” As the body of our host (wagons, marching units of soldiers, noble men and women on horseback) had entered Sage Ravine, townspeople emerged from houses and shops to gawk at us.
Everyone who lived in the village had gathered to hear the words of their ruler, perhaps the only time in their lives they would. I had nothing to offer them.
Ariana frowned. I hadn’t spoken to her since she’d ridden away from me on the road earlier that day, and it seemed she wasn’t endeared to me now either. “You serve at the pleasure of the queen, and the queen needs to convince these good people to send their youth north to battle.”
“Someone else should speak,” I insisted. I spun Grandma’s silver ring on my finger, nervous.
“The queen doesn’t want you to give a speech.” Ariana looked at me suspiciously, the corners of her eyes crinkling, her lips slightly pursed. “She wants you to do magic.”
One of the stable hands took Peanut Butter’s reins then and I dismounted, shakily. My mind raced so that I didn’t even see him led off, only blindly followed the funnel of people to the square.
As soon as I was out of the footpath, I wrenched my satchel open.
Lip gloss, snacks, lacy things Sorrel was probably dismayed I hadn’t made use of yet.
Wild ideas spun through my head. I could use the paper and ink to make a fortune teller.
No, damn it, I was supposed to be the fortune teller.
Would they be impressed by the gummy bears I’d been saving? Not likely.
The first thing to do was to look presentable.
I ducked inside a shop, barely noting the commodities on display as I beseeched a startled woman to please, for the love of the queen, let me change in her storeroom.
The shopkeeper took pity on me, and I threw on my maroon dress and smoothed my long brown hair.
A plan just barely struck me. I seized it before it could spiral away.
It didn’t matter so much what it was as long as I had something to do in front of the crowd.
The very worst thing would be getting up there and doing nothing.
Everyone knew me as a witch’s apprentice, the woman who traveled across the seas to support the queen.
I didn’t like to think what Queen Elthra would do if she discovered I was a nobody in front of the women and men she was trying to impress.
The villagers cheered as I scaled the stone steps and approached the queen.
Without the usual generous amount of fabric trailing after her, she looked almost small in her armor.
The metal didn’t gleam the way I had seen it in the sun, but there was a certain romantic quality to the gold under the light of the torches.
Queen Elthra didn’t turn to face me but held her hand out in my direction. I supposed I should bow over it—I didn’t think women usually kissed a female monarch’s ring—but I didn’t know for sure.
Noticing my hesitation, Queen Elthra flapped her hand at me and shot me a look out of the corner of her eye. “What does pink mean?” she hissed low enough that only I heard.
I should have expected that. I darted a panicked look at her face. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her eyes shining at her adorers despite my delay. Anyone could have heard the genuine charisma in her voice as she incited the crowd. It hardly mattered what color the mood ring was.
“Excitement, Your Grace.”
She nodded once, satisfied, and gestured me to center stage.
I stepped forward, my stomach roiling. There was nothing between me and the crowd.
Shopkeepers, village officials, farmers, and children looked back, expectantly.
From his spot on the lower front step, Ironclaw turned from the crowd to survey me.
He wore the new sword on his back, the one with the black-wrapped handle.
His customary daggers sat on his hips. His shirtsleeves were rolled down over his forearms for once and he wore a dark jerkin over his torso.
He was ready for a fight in the event the evening turned.
His eyes on me were assessing—I hadn’t worn the maroon dress since we’d left Castle Creneda and the neckline was lower than anything I would have chosen for myself. I couldn’t bear to put the leather corset back on over the dress. The cut of the bust was structured enough.
For once, it seemed Ironclaw’s stern expression softened.
Oh hell. He was going to arrive at my bedroll with...expectation. It was a situation of my own doing yet with that look on his face and the sun descending, it finally felt real. I fought back a shudder. No, I couldn’t mentally deal with that right now.
I forced myself to look away. The crowd stared back.
“Greetings, Sage Ravine!” I croaked.
The crowd cheered, giving me a moment to calm my breath. Their enthusiasm was encouraging. Then it struck me. They weren’t happy to see me. They thought I knew magic. I would probably settle in for a show too if I lived in a remote medieval village with no television.
I was acutely aware of Queen Elthra’s gaze on my back as I forced myself to speak.
“Your queen is not my own, yet I came across the Seas of Melancholy to serve your worthy leader in the fight against the Dark Mage Amédée.”
There was an impressed murmur. The Seas of Melancholy were on the edge of the map in my special edition books. To these landlocked folk, the seas might as well be on another planet.
“We need your support in our campaign”—I hoped I was using the right terminology—“and to show you why, I need a volunteer from the crowd.”
I scanned the gathering for a raised hand, squinting to see among the glowing lanterns, and found none. Not one person had put their hand up.
The air crackled as an entire village square of medieval folk gawked at me. No one moved.
Shit, they had never seen a magic show.
“A volunteer to come onstage with me,” I restated. “A brave young person to which no harm will come—ah! You there!”
A girl had tentatively lifted her hand. It wasn’t even a proper raise. She was middle school-aged, her sandy hair cut to her chin, and looked a little shocked to find her hand in the air.
I beckoned her forward.
“Yes, come forward, Brave One,” I said in some semblance of a stage voice.
As she navigated the press of people, I had a moment to search the crowd again.
I spotted dark, longish hair and a serious expression.
A man was talking to Draw but Draw’s attention was on me, his ear merely cocked in the man’s direction.
Draw was back in his gray robes with the black sash. He smiled.
A small smile escaped me.
It was silly because I didn’t know magic and was moments away from disappointing a livid queen and crowd of villagers desperate for entertainment, but still, his eyes were on me, and I felt a thrill go through me.
The girl arrived at the stage steps. I watched her climb but caught Ironclaw’s eye. My silly smile suddenly felt blasphemous. My face froze, the smile melted, and I saw Ironclaw’s eyes narrow in speculation.
My volunteer curtsied awkwardly to the queen despite being in loose trousers, then turned to me expectantly, her expression hesitant but bright.
I took a tan candle from the pocket of my dress and handed it to her.