Forest Born

  “I not noticing her at first. I was seeing of her heat before seeing of her, Your Majesty.”

  Then, a second voice—Selia’s. “What an enchanting mystery! Do you think we should keep her alive to figure it out? Or shall we kill her now?”

  “She could be dangerous.”

  “Mmm.”

  The candlelight grew brighter, then in the circle of light Selia emerged from the stairs, flanked by the woman and two other men, also dressed in gray tunics with orange markings. Over her white nightgown, Selia wore a red velvet robe, the color of a very ripe berry, and her dark yellow hair was long and loose. Selia stepped daintily off the last stair, took in Rin with the soldiers, and smiled. Rin could not help thinking her lovely.

  “My wonderful guards!” Selia extended her arms, as if embracing the soldiers from a distance. “Flann, Imchad, Conall—you are so fine, so strong. What good work you do keeping my little home safe. How I adore you!”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” each one mumbled in voices that sounded sheepish bordering on lovesick. The other soldiers who remained at the gate watched intensely. A few shuffled closer, their faces eager, as if hoping Selia might notice them next. But her generous smile had turned to the woman beside her.

  “And beautiful Nuala. Ever watchful, always brilliant. Your days of going unnoticed are long forgotten. You shine like a full moon.”

  Nuala bowed her head, red flush smeared over her broad cheeks.

  Now Selia’s eyes turned to Rin. Her gaze was uncomfortable, probing, and Rin flinched under it.

  “Nuala, why are her ears smeared with dirt?”

  “She had putting mud in her ears, Your Majesty. I cannot know why.”

  Rin thought Selia’s followers must not realize the power of their mistress’s voice.

  Selia’s eyebrows rose. “She did? Well, maybe she’s a clever thing. Are you clever?”

  Rin summoned all her strength and sent it into words. “Let me go.”

  Selia’s eyes opened wide in pure surprise. “Pardon me?”

  “You want something from Isi, from the Crown Princess.”

  Rin fought to speak with confidence, to shine up her words and offer them like coins. But her chin trembled, and she was so aware of her own worthlessness she could barely squeak. “I can’t give you what you want. You should let me go. I have nowhere to run. There’s no point in keeping me around, just another mouth to feed. You’d feel so much better if you let me go.”

  Selia stared, then she leaned her head back and laughed. “Wonderful! So charming. It appears I have a little sister in talent. But is that your best effort, truly? How sad. Let me guess—you were afraid of yourself all your life, so you did not practice your skills; you shut them away. And now you are useless. Yes, Nuala, this one is terribly dangerous—if you are a beetle underfoot.” Selia’s smile was barely a twitch, yet it seemed the cruelest smile Rin had ever seen.

  “She is not a threat?” Nuala asked, watching Rin with wary eyes.

  “No, she is weak.”

  Rin shuddered. Never had any words seemed more true.

  Then Selia’s eyes softened, the cold smile melted from her lips. Her face was all benevolence. Even as Rin guessed that it was just another mask, a new tactic, the effect was profound, and she found herself thinking, I wish I’d had a chance to wash before meeting her. I wish I looked a bit nicer. What can I say to make her like me?

  “I know who you are, Rin. Cilie has told me many charming stories. Eager to know you better, I was thrilled to learn you had escorted my old mistress to my home. So you may imagine my worry when I realized you were not among the girls. But all is as it should be again. You were so clever! We looked and looked for the longest time but could not find any trace of you and dear sweet Tusken. Truly ingenious. How did you elude my searchers?”

  Rin blinked long and hard. She wanted to tell Selia. She should just tell her. Did it really matter if Selia knew about sleeping in the oak tree, or even about the tree-speaking? Surely she was about to kill Rin anyway. But there remained a thin, tough core in Rin’s middle, pulled securely up toward the sky, down toward earth, and there within that single fiber, she could still think a little. Keep silent, Rin. At least she had some practice at that.

  “Come now,” said Selia. “None of it matters anymore. I just admire your competence.” She studied Rin’s face, lifting a finger to stroke her cheek. “No one appreciates you properly, do they? Your family? Yes, they do not see the true Rin, the clever Rin, the powerful Rin. Overlooked your entire life, tossed aside as if you were no more than any scrap of a girl. They don’t know what secrets you hold, how you have fought to keep those secrets, all you have sacrificed to keep your family safe. And for what? For negligence? For dismissal? The way you have been treated is shocking.”

  Rin felt as if she could curl up at Selia’s feet and fall asleep. Her thoughts relaxed too, drifting away from her control. Selia would understand me. She and I have grown up with the same plague inside. She could teach me, and in turn I could help her change her ways. Only she could really understand . . .

  “I bet there are stories you could tell! I am near breathless in anticipation. Tell me. Tell me all of it, all the clever things you can do. How did you get them away without drawing notice? What did you do next?”

  Selia put a finger under Rin’s jaw and gazed lovingly into her eyes. Rin’s legs trembled with eagerness to speak, her stomach tossed with joy. How wonderful it would feel to tell Selia about her sneaking, half in the green world, and her idea to hide in the very tree that held the cage. Selia would be delighted! Rin could see the path they had taken in her mind, their flight north, then east, and north again. Silence, Rin. Keep silent. The room seemed to tilt to one side; her head hurt. Maybe she could draw Selia a map . . . No! Why was everything so confusing? She tried to think like a tree, hide herself inside that wonderful bark of thought, sink deep in a sturdy trunk, close herself to all this confusion.

  “You are fighting so hard!” Selia said. “That is sweet. You must think you have someone to protect, but there is no need. You should protect yourself now, and the way to do that is to speak. You are so good at speaking, better than you can even guess. No need to close yourself up any longer, little flower. Open yourself, claim yourself. Speak.”

  Rin wanted to, she really wanted to. But a tickly bug of an idea was irritating her, distracting her—Selia understood her. That meant that Rin’s ability to read people was part of the people-speaking. When she guessed Ma’s thoughts before Ma spoke them, that was people-speaking. When she detected the lie in Cilie’s face, that too. And finding just the right thing to say to Wilem to keep him from running off with the boys. The ability to read people, know what they needed to hear, convince them to do as she wished. All of that. People-speaking.

  Selia could see thoughts in people’s faces, could read in their expressions what they wanted to hear, and told it to them. But the way Selia spoke was beyond finding the words to convince Nordra to give up the stick—Selia’s words were webbing, thick and sticky, that clung and enshrined. Selia’s words were weapons. Beside her, Rin felt weak as pudding.

  “I have nothing worth saying,” Rin muttered, and felt it was true.

  Selia sighed. “Oh well, I was just curious. It does not matter now that I have the boy prince safely home with me.”

  Rin heard the gasp before realizing that it had escaped from her own throat.

  Selia tilted her head, studying Rin’s face, her expression amused surprise. “Oh my, you did not know that, did you? You thought Tusken and his little soldier friend were still out there somewhere? Look at her, Nuala, she is utterly shocked. She’s trying to hide it, poor dear. And here we all assumed she broke into the castle in some fanciful attempt to rescue him!”

  She smiled again at Rin. “Forgive me. I should show more compassion. If you did not know, then . . . Well, I hope it won’t come as a dreadful blow when I tell you that when my guards found the boy prince and his companion,
they tried to flee, the poor dears, as if they had anything to fear from me! In the tussle, the dark-haired boy died. He tried to fight, but what good is a sling against a sword, especially with his boots on fire?”

  Rin was on the floor. She did not think she had sat down, but suddenly the ground was there under her hand and backside, her body jarred as if she’d hit it hard.

  “Did you know that boy?” Selia’s voice dripped with concern. “I had no idea or I would have taken more care. My condolences, truly. I have lost loved ones too, and I know the pain. The deep, deep pain. But in good news”—her tone brightened—“the little one lives in excellent health! He is back in his aunt Selia’s adoring arms. I have dressed him in silks and he sleeps upon feather pillows, his chubby little face still smeared with the honey sweets I fed him for dinner. Cilie is with him, my faithful lady-in-waiting, but he is most fond of me.”

  Razo is dead, Rin was thinking. It was all she could think. The thought crowded her head, her body, filled the room like smoke from a clogged chimney, and Rin could not breathe through it. Razo is dead, and it’s my fault. I failed him, I killed him. I fell asleep and lost all that time. The searchers found them, killed my brother, carried Tusken back to Selia. All while I slept. He’s dead, it’s my fault. I insisted on going myself, and now he’s dead.

  Selia crouched beside her and placed something small and cold in Rin’s hands. Her face was close to Rin’s, so close she found herself watching Selia’s pale eyelashes as she blinked.

  “Tell the Crown Princess to name me the ruler of Bayern’s eastern provinces. It is delightful to be a queen by marriage, but I’d so much rather have some land in my name. My provinces will still be part of Bayern. I’m not asking for the crown, after all. The eastern provinces aren’t too much to exchange for the life of her child, are they? No, you agree. That would be greedy of her. And I will be a good ruler, and tie the kingdom of Bayern even more snugly to Kel. It will be a marvelous political alliance with both sides benefiting richly. I do not ask for something impossible, just a little piece of land, won fairly in this war game. All I require is her signature on a letter to Geric. He will honor what his wife signs, as long as I send it back with his son intact. If she refuses, I will keep Tusken as my own. I have always wanted a son. I do not think that will transpire—I believe the Crown Princess will sign, and then she will remain my guest until the king follows through on the transfer of land. Once that happens, everyone goes home hale and healthy! You see how reasonable I am.”

  Rin was nodding. She did not care about any of it—eastern provinces, political alliances. Trying to take it in felt like drinking dust. Razo should have come, not her. All along, she’d known she would fail, and sure enough, here she sat on a stone floor drowning under the news of her brother’s death. But she nodded.

  “Good. Very good. My hearth-watchers,” Selia said, gesturing to the men and women in gray tunics, “will escort you downstairs to your companions. I apologize for the rough quarters, but alas, Castle Daire is not so grand as to boast of large guest chambers! Still, the sooner the Crown Princess signs her agreement, the sooner I can send that sweet little baby back to his father. Off you go, and tell the Crown Princess I will call on her tomorrow.”

  “She’s a queen,” Rin whispered.

  Selia had begun to walk away, but she stopped where she stood, her smile rigid. “What did you say?”

  Rin could not believe she had spoken at all. The words had slipped out; she had barely noticed them. Now she had to gather any energy left in her body to speak again, forcing the words out in a croak. “Isi. You call her Crown Princess. But she’s a queen.”

  The change in Selia’s face was astonishing. Her composure, her beauty disappeared as her face stiffened and turned red, her eyes glaring, her mouth quivering. Rin recoiled, sure the woman would strike. But just as suddenly, Selia’s face calmed again, though now no smile graced her lips.

  “All of this can end very well for you. How would you like to be the one to accompany the child back to his father? Yes, I can see that you genuinely care for him. You would love to be so honored, to have his well-being in your hands. You could keep him safe. If the Crown Princess signs that document, you will be taking the little prince home tomorrow. And then I will not have a reason to cut your throat and toss you over the wall. Think on that. Come, Nuala.”

  Selia climbed the winding stairs, Nuala following. Selia’s remaining hearth-watchers, those in the gray tunics embroidered with orange flames, took Rin by the elbows and walked her swiftly down steps so steep Rin feared she would drop to the bottom if she leaned forward just a bit. That was where she’d been trying to go all along, and now they took her willingly. Because it did not matter anymore. Rin had no good news to shout, and the fire sisters would not break free.

  For some reason she was having trouble seeing. The torches on the walls swam with indistinct light, the steps beneath her feet seemed to curve and bulge. Only when she blinked and felt coolness streak down her cheeks did she understand that she’d been seeing through tears.

  From the hiccups in her chest and the shake of her shoulders, Rin guessed she was crying hard, though a numbness consumed her so she was scarcely aware of her sobs. By the time the hearth-watchers unlocked a heavy metal door and pushed her through, she was nearly blind with tears. The room was completely black and stank like a privy hole.

  She stumbled forward, and hands were on her at once, comforting hands. Rin kneeled, then crumpled, stone beneath her arms and head.

  “What’s happened, Rinna?” It was Dasha’s voice. She was stroking Rin’s hair back from her forehead, and Enna and Isi were rubbing her back, grasping her hands, their touch desperate to ease whatever might be her pain. Rin covered her face with her hands. She had no right to their comfort when it was her fault.

  “Razo’s dead,” she said through the sobs. The hands touching her stopped, frozen by her words. She forced herself to keep talking. “I got Razo and Tusken out of the cage. I . . . I left them in the wood. To come tell you that Selia didn’t have Tusken so you could break out. But Selia’s searchers found them. They . . . they killed Razo and took Tusken again.”

  That was all Rin could say for some time, but she did not need to talk. The three girls were sitting and lying beside her, holding one another, weeping, their arms and legs and hair tangled like the roots of close trees, sobs shaking them like leaves in a high wind.

  For hours perhaps they lay there crying. Sometimes Rin noticed that her knees hurt on the stone floor or that her throat ached with thirst, but otherwise she felt a catastrophic numbness. She was aware of herself as if from a distance, watching and wondering how that girl Rin could cry so hard and not break apart.

  “Rin,” Isi said when she could speak again. “How was Tusken?”

  Rin nodded, swallowing until she could find her voice. “He was happy. Playing with Razo.”

  “Good.” Isi exhaled the word. “All right. That’s . . .” Her voice caught and she stopped talking.

  Rin was still clutching something in her fist, and she rubbed it between her fingers to see what Selia had placed there—a bead. Tusken used to wear it around his neck on a leather band. That proof of the boy’s capture cut through the numbness and jabbed at Rin’s heart, and she grimaced with the pain, an audible moan escaping her throat.

  “She says she wants to send Tusken home.” Rin told them of Selia’s offer to let Rin take Tusken back to his father as soon as Isi signed her document.

  “Was she sincere, Rin?” Isi asked. “Will she let Tusken go if I sign?”

  Rin blinked, realizing that Isi wanted to know if she had detected truth or lie in Selia’s face. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t watching her clearly. I’m sorry.”

  “Why the eastern provinces?” asked Dasha. Rin could not see her expression in the darkness, but there was a dry rasp to her throat.

  Isi could only whisper. “If the king of Bayern were to die without a direct heir, the rulers of
each province would vote to select a new monarch for the kingdom. The eastern provinces combined into one body would be the largest. If she convinced two other rulers to stand with her, then her vote would become the majority, and I can guess who she would select for the post. So. She plans to kill me. She most likely would return Tusken to Geric, but I can’t imagine she’d leave them alone. Somehow, she’d find a way to kill them as well—but not through war, I think. Kel is not strong enough to invade Bayern.”

  “I don’t understand that woman,” said Dasha. “She had Tusken. Why lure you here as well? Why not just send you word of Tusken’s kidnapping along with her demands?”

  “She’s crazy.” Enna’s voice was so full of sorrow, Rin scarcely recognized it.

  Yes, Selia might be crazy, but Rin remembered her face and words the night before as she gloated, Razo and Tusken in the cage. Had it only been one day? To Rin it felt like weeks. “More than anything, she wants Isi to see her victory. Last night she was so happy Isi was there, she couldn’t stop talking. I don’t think she meant to talk that much. She couldn’t help herself. Winning isn’t enough—she wants to win in front of Isi.”

  Isi moaned. “I think you’re right, Rin. Save us all, I think that’s it.”

  “Cilie is here,” Rin said. “Watching Tusken. She’s Selia’s lady-in-waiting.”

  Isi nodded. “Of course, and what a lovely irony—betrayed by another lady-in-waiting. Selia knew if some poor girl came to me with a story of abuse and abandonment, I’d take her in. Fool that I am. That will be how she gets to Geric and Tusken after my death—she’ll get her followers into the palace. Geric and Tusken will be under constant threat of poisoning or accidents.”

  “And if they die,” said Dasha, “Selia will become queen of Bayern.”

  Rin remembered the coldness in Selia’s eyes when she spoke of taking Tusken as her own son, the delight she took in imagining Isi’s pain. That little boy who loved to discover fat snails stuck to the undersides of leaves and holes in the shrubs perfect for climbing through—he was in that woman’s clutches. He saw Razo die, and now he was alone and terrified. Rin’s chest clenched.