Chapter 6 #2
“I want you to get the ingredients and begin the process immediately.” His voice was firm and I knew he’d made up his mind.
Though I loathed our current conversation, I knew a chance when I saw one. “But what if I need ingredients unavailable in the keep?”
“I’ll assign you an escort.”
I nodded, choosing the path of least resistance. “I’ll go tomorrow,” I said, picking up the book and crawling into bed. I didn’t want to look too excited by the prospect of leaving the keep, otherwise he would know something was amiss. “Are you ready for me to read to you?”
“Yes.” His face was expressionless as he turned his back toward me, his gaze focusing on the fire as I opened the cover and began to read.
The next morning, I stood outside of our door, wearing a floor length blue dress, waiting for the escort. Although I wasn’t a fan of dresses, as they limited my movement, at least the Malheim fashion was loose and airy, meaning I wouldn’t grow too hot under the midday sun.
Under normal circumstances, I would hope Friar would come as my escort. But she was the only one who might recognize the ingredients I planned to collect, meaning I hoped for it to be anyone but her.
To my surprise, it was a male guard who showed up. He was tall, which was saying something because I was considered tall for a woman. He had dark hair and wore a frown like it was part of his armor. Not even cracking a grin in greeting.
“Derek,” he stated, not even waiting for me to mention my name before motioning for me to lead.
I took a step in front of him, my basket gripped tightly in my hands, “Runa,” I tossed over my shoulder.
“We aren’t to speak. I am here only to escort.”
That had my eyebrows rising. I’d come to discover Leif was a jealous man, but I hadn’t expected he’d take it that far.
“Okay,” I affirmed. I’d long known that choosing my battles was essential, and I wasn’t going to bother with this one. As long as Derek didn’t recognize plants, this arrangement would suit me fine.
I guided him out into the field outside the palace that was still situated within the walls of the keep, and proceeded to scour the ground for the light purple moonflowers which bloomed under the light of the two moons.
I beamed when I spotted them, bending down to delicately pry them from the ground, roots and all. The soil released them with little resistance, and I took that as a good omen from the absent gods.
“What are those?” He scoffed, but his eyes told a different story.
He was interested.
I couldn’t keep my lips from turning up at the corner. The “no talking” rule hadn’t lasted long. “Moonflower,” I replied. Though my bonded might want me to be rude, I’d long ago learned allies were better than enemies—something Leif couldn’t understand.
Would never understand.
I’d gathered more than a handful, my gaze catching on the acid violets that also grew alongside the small lake. But I turned away, making my way back to the keep.
“That was it?” Derek’s tone was laced with annoyance.
I smiled sweetly. “Yes, sir. I do need to stop by the healer’s quarters as well, but I’m not certain if you’re to escort me there?”
“No, ma’am,” he replied quickly as we stepped back through the door that led into the interior courtyard.
“Then I shall see you later, Derek.” I dipped my chin before walking to the healing quarters on my own.
Friar’s door was open a crack, and I pushed it open without knocking.
Her back was to me as she stirred a large pot over the flames. The scent of cinnamon flooded my nose as I surveyed the room. “Is my love potion ready yet?”
Friar jerked and spun, her breathing labored. “Runa, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry,” I replied, my gaze catching on one of the jars on the shelf to my left. “I was passing by and thought I would see if you had enough moonflower?” I lifted the basket in my hands.
Friar turned back to the pot. “Yes, I have plenty. This should be done at sunset tonight.”
“Excellent,” I said, my foot stepping slowly to the left.
“Runa?”
“Hm?” I stopped my movement.
“You were right.”
Now I was confused. “About?”
She sighed. “I should have told you my plan sooner. If you have a moment . . .” Her eyes moved to the door, which was still ajar. “I’d like to discuss it with you now.”
I nodded, moving further to the left as she crossed the room to close the door, her long black braid swinging behind her. The moment her hand touched the door, I reached for the jar I’d been eyeing, sliding it into my sleeve as the door clicked.
Friar faced me, her blue eyes lacking their usual sparkle as she took in my appearance. “Here. Come sit.” I could feel her stress like it was my own and realized this was equally as hard on her as it was me.
I moved to where she motioned—the wooden bench along the wall by the pot—struggling to keep my prized jar in my sleeve.
“I plan to take over Malheim.”
My jaw dropped, and my neck swiveled automatically. “Friar . . . what?” I gave her a once over, unable to impose the image of a viscount over the demure healer I’d come to know.
“You heard me. I’m going to kill Leif—make myself the new viscount.”
My throat was dry. I despised Leif, I really did, but something about Friar being the one responsible for his death and taking over Malheim didn’t sit right in my stomach. But I couldn’t put my finger on why.
“With Otho Viscount of Ralheim, and Cal the leader of Salheim, this is the final stronghold.”
I struggled to swallow. These didn’t sound like the words of a healer. “But—”
She turned to me suddenly, her finger pointing at me. “Don’t make me regret telling you.”
I shook my head, finally forcing the lump down my throat. “I won’t. I’m just . . . surprised is all.” Surprised she could speak so freely of murder and assuming the role that was responsible for my oppression.
“Surprised about what?” she asked, stirring the pot once more.
“Just . . . that this is your plan. I thought maybe we would run, or—”
“This is better, is it not?” She arched one of her dark eyebrows. “This way we don’t have to worry about saving those who are loyal. All who help will be rewarded . . . in a way. I plan to create a distraction in the middle of the night—when he won’t be expecting it.”
My hand was shaking, and I set the basket in my lap down, hoping Friar didn’t notice. “And Otho . . . this is what he wants?”
“Yes—oh, that’s what else I’ve been wanting to tell you.” She jumped up then, crossing the room to a pile of parchments. “Otho’s been writing me.”
A rock settled in my stomach at her words. “Just you?” I tried not to make my voice sound desperate, but it didn’t work as I’d hoped.
She smiled sadly, holding up the letters. “Sorry, Runa, but they’re in a secret script. You wouldn’t be able to read them anyway.”
I nodded, trying to deal with the emotions rolling beneath my skin. It made sense that Otho would write his sister, and that they would have a secret way to communicate. But something still felt off about the situation, and it was making a cold sweat bead down my back.
“I-I’ll help. Whatever you need.” The words were shaky and lacked the confidence I knew I would need to actually do as I was promising, but I needed to get out of here, and fast.
“I’m counting on it, Runa.” Friar didn’t seem to notice my plight as she returned to her pot, and I made my way to the door. “I’ll send word as soon as we settle on more of the details.”
I nodded, pulling the door closed behind me.
Out in the hall, I leaned my forehead against the stone wall, trying to catch my breath.
It was then that it hit me.
Stronghold.
It was such a military word. One I hadn’t heard used even during my time under Otho in the military.
When had Friar started using words like stronghold?