The Quill and the Quest Read online

  “I’m sorry, friend,” was all I could think of to say.

  I said my goodbyes to Philip outside the pub, where I’d had just enough ale to forget—briefly—what had happened in the woods earlier. As I headed for home, the evening air felt cool and cleansing on my flushed cheeks. I decided to stop by my parents’ house on the way and ask my ma about the storybook again. Maybe she’d remembered something since the last time I’d—

  My foot ran into an upturned rock and I flailed my arms, for one, long second, fearing I was going to land face-first in the dirt. But I regained my balance at the last moment, and managed to save myself the trouble of scrubbing mud stains out of my new shirt. I was just thinking maybe I wasn’t sober enough for a visit, and redirected my steps past the back of their house so I could escape to my own, undetected.

  “I saw that,” Sarah’s familiar voice wafted over to me on the breeze. For a moment I thought I’d imagined it, then I looked over and saw she was out in the back garden, a small army of chickens fanned out in front of her, waiting for food. “Just throwing out a guess here, but were you at the pub?”

  I laughed, despite myself. I knew I probably looked a mess and I wished she hadn’t just watched me make a fool of myself. But all that was outweighed by how damn good it felt to see her. She’d been beautiful the other day at the spring festival. She must have had maids at the castle who pinned her hair up in that fancy style she’d worn and rouged her cheeks.

  But I preferred this Sarah. Today her face was scrubbed clean of any make up and her hair was pulled back in a simple bun, with wisps standing out this way and that as she spread feed across the grass. Her dress was simple, though finely stitched. A gift from the king, no doubt.

  “He let you out of the castle, I see,” I said, scooping a handful of feed out of the barrel next to the house and spreading it near the back row of chickens to make sure our more timid girls got enough to eat.

  “Yep. I’m still living there for now, since the king insists it’s safer with everything that’s been going on.” She looked up at me and I nodded. “But I can come and go as I please. As of this morning, I’m a free woman,” she said, beaming.

  “And, as a free woman,” I said, dusting my hands off on my thighs and moving closer to her. “Your first order of business was to come to my parents’ house and feed their chickens?”

  “Mmhmm,” she hummed, nodding her head as she took a step toward me. “Well, actually, that was my second order of business. My first was to go to your house to see you, but you weren’t home yet.”

  I grinned, my cock jumping slightly at the thought of her standing there, waiting at my doorstep. She’d come to see me first, had she? Then I mustn’t disappoint her.

  “I’m home now,” I said, reaching for her waist and pulling her toward me.

  “I can see that,” she laughed, then pulled her head farther away. “Or, rather, I can smell that. How much ale did you drink?”

  “Only three cups,” I said, trying to remember how many empties were scattered across the table when I’d left. “Or maybe it was four….”

  “Did you have a good time at least?” she asked, twining her hands together behind my neck and gazing up at me in the most delicious manner.

  “Aye,” I said, hardly registering her words at first because I was concentrating so hard on her lips. “Oh, right. I have something to tell you. I finally met up with—”

  “Who is that handsome man in my garden?”

  I cursed silently and lowered my hands. “’Evening Ma.”

  As I turned to face her, I saw her rest her hands on her hips and screw up her face in a look of mock confusion.

  “Ma? The handsome fella is calling me ‘ma’ now? And here I can’t remember the last time I saw his face. Surely, he can’t be one of mine. Why my boy lives right next door to me and I see him most—”

  I walked closer and wrapped my arms around her, picking her up and swinging her in a circle.

  “Put me down this instant,” she demanded, though she couldn’t hide her smile when I set her back upon the earth, then dipped down and kissed her on her cheek.

  “I’ve missed you,” I said. “Sorry I haven’t been home as much. You know I’ve been busy with the festival and all.”

  “I know, son,” she said, looking up at me with such a genuine look of love I had to glance sideways while I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. The king wanted me to learn about my true mother and I’d agreed to do it. But who else could there ever be for me besides this woman?

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, knowing, as always, when something was off.

  I considered telling her “nothing” and trying to shake it off. But it was too late. She was already worried.

  So I glanced at Sarah, then back to my ma. “Maybe we should make some tea.”

  “So, uh….” Sarah said, glancing around the table. The three of us sat, steaming cups of hot, dark, tea in front of us. And I had no idea how to start or what to say. “You said you met up with someone, at the pub?”

  Bless her. “Aye,” I said, picking up my cup, deciding it was too hot and setting it down again. “I met up with Philip.”

  “The blacksmith?” Ma asked, looking from me to Sarah, her expression wary. “You weren’t asking him about that, well, you know. His girl?” she all but whispered. “Gwinn?”

  “Gwinn?” I asked, wondering what she had to do with anything. “I was asking him about the gates.”

  Ma’s eyes widened and she lowered her voice, “You mean the black gates? The ones the king was asking about? The ones….” she trailed off, casting a glance at Sarah. “Did he make them?”

  “No Ma,” I said. “I just wanted to know if he…you know what? Doesn’t matter right now.” I sent Sarah a sidelong look, hoping we could save this conversation for later. “What I want to talk to you about is that old storybook you read me as a child.”

  Her eyes widened momentarily, and then she became suddenly very interested in her tea. “It’s just an old story, Oren. A children’s tale.”

  I nodded. “I was just talking to the king about it, after the festival the other day.”

  “You were?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch.

  “Aye. He told me something interesting about it, too. Said there was only ever one copy of those books made.”

  “Is that right?” Ma asked, sipping her tea and pretending like it didn’t burn her tongue.

  “Aye. The rest of the series is in the castle library, only, they’re missing the one volume, you see. The one we had.”

  “How curious,” Ma mumbled, still not meeting my eyes.

  “Indeed,” I said.

  Sarah glanced excitedly between my ma and me, but kept whatever questions she had to herself.

  “And the king wanted to know how I—how we—came into possession of it,” I said, eyeing her closely for any changes in her expression.

  My ma sniffed and raised her head. “I can’t even remember. It was near twenty years ago.”

  I hated to push her, hated the look of anxiety in my ma’s eyes. But I knew she knew something, and I had every right to learn of it. Didn’t I?

  “Ma, you didn’t get that book from someone at the castle, did you? From King Nedwin perhaps?”

  Ma’s face, along with Sarah’s, looked utterly shocked and appalled.

  “I dare say not,” she said, picking up her cup, then setting it down again. Then she picked up a biscuit from the plate in the center of the table, brought it to her lips, then thought better of it and rested it on the saucer of her tea cup. Finally, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me. “Can you really picture me and the old king? Having tea and chatting about children’s books? Really Oren. What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “What I’m suggesting is that you know something about that book, and about my parents, that you aren’t saying.”

  “I’m your parent,” she all but yelled as she pushed her chair back and stood. “Me and your d
a, we’ve always been your parents. And you don’t need any others.”

  Her voice broke on those last words and I had to blink quickly to hide the tears stinging at the corners of my eyes.

  “Ma, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  But she waved her hand and ran from the room, a loud sob escaping her just as the front door opened and my da walked in. He watched her run down the hallway into her bedroom, then looked over to where Sarah and I sat at the table.

  “Good evening, dear,” he said to Sarah, who dipped her head in greeting. Then he turned to me. “What’s all this about?”

  “I was just asking her about that old storybook she used to read to me,” I said. Then mumbled, “And about my original parents.”

  “Oren.” My da always knew how to chide me with just the tone of his voice.

  “I know,” I said, hanging my head and scooting my chair out from the table. “I’ll go talk to her. Apologize.”

  “No, son. I’ll talk to her.”

  I looked up at him. “I didn’t mean to upset her. You know that. It’s just—”

  My dad waved his hands toward the floor, telling me to lower my voice. “I know. Best let her cool off a bit first though, don’t you think? Maybe stop by in the morning, mend things then.”

  I nodded reluctantly, then motioned for Sarah to follow me out of the house, saying goodbye to my da on the way.

  “Wow, that was heavy,” Sarah said once we’d walked the short distance to my house.

  “You must think me a terrible ingrate,” I said, opening the door for her.

  She shook her head. “It’s a really tough situation. You need to know about your birth parents. I mean, it could have something to do with your ability to shift, right? But your mom clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Aye,” I said.

  “But I don’t think it’s because she wants to keep it a secret from you. There must be something more to the story. Maybe she thinks she’s protecting you somehow.”

  I nodded as we sank into a set of chairs by the bookcase. If felt good to be here with her again, to have her voice fill my home.

  Then I thought about how I only had the one bookcase and the king had hundreds. But no, Sarah was, willingly, here with me, next to my paltry set of shelves instead of with him.

  “I think she was a….” I hesitated, searching out a gentler word but finding none. “Well, a whore.”

  Sarah flinched, looking surprised.

  “My birth mother, I mean,” I hastened to clarify. “I’ve thought about it a lot over the years and it’s the only thing that makes sense. Only, now….”

  “What?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I never thought about my father much, my true father, that is. I always assumed he was a one-time customer, maybe even a man visiting from another town. But now, well, with King Ash and Queen Maeri having the same ability and all….”

  Sarah sucked in a breath, her eyes dancing with understanding. “You think your birth mother could have slept with the old king?”

  I shrugged. “Everyone always described him as a loyal husband, but I was too young to form an opinion of my own about it. And he was a king, after all. Some say they have stronger…appetites, than most.”

  “Are all kings unfaithful?” she asked. I glanced over at her, wondering if she was thinking about King Ash.

  “I don’t know, my lady.” I could have told her about the rumors in the years following King Ash’s parents’ deaths. There were those who claimed he’d bedded half the women in the kingdom before his sixteenth birthday. But I had no way of knowing if the rumors were true. And I didn’t want to appear petty. Better to let her reach her own conclusions.

  “So you think you’re…what? A royal, um….”

  “Bastard?” I said for her. “Aye. That’s as much a possibility as any, I suppose. Then again, maybe I’m not royal at all. Maybe the book is just a book, a tale to entertain young children.”

  She screwed up her mouth. “Could be. But then why would your mom get so squirrely when you asked her about it? And where would she have gotten that book? Your birth parents must have some kind of connection to the old king, even if it’s not the obvious one.”

  I nodded, impressed by her ability to talk all this through rationally. People in Verdinia, and women especially, never talked about such delicate matters outright. And yet, here we were, chatting about it as though it were the plan for the new garden beds.

  That made me smile. “Sarah, I’m glad—”

  I was interrupted by a knock at the front door. We exchanged curious looks, then I stood to answer it. Outside was a page I recognized from the castle, wearing a doublet in the king’s colors of purple and black.

  “Good evening, sir,” he said, quickly bowing his head, but staring straight ahead, not meeting my eyes. “I’m looking for Lady Sarah, of the Lindens. The king wishes to speak with her at the castle.”

  I heard Sarah let out a frustrated sigh behind me as she made her way to the door.

  “I’ll be back tonight. Can’t it wait until then?”

  “I’m afraid not, my lady,” the page answered. “Please, follow me.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” she asked, crossing her arms. “He told me I’m free to go wherever I wish.”

  “He’s requested your presence immediately, my lady. I’m told he has something important to give you.” He stared ahead still, but I heard a nervous quiver in his voice. The young man was terrified of failing in his duty. “Please allow me to accompany you to the castle.”

  I looked behind him, at the royal carriage waiting by the road. Sarah’s presence must have distracted me, for it was unusual that I hadn’t heard the horses clomping up the dirt path. Ever since I’d begun shifting, I’d been more attuned to their sounds, their vibrations.

  I flashed back to the previous day in the western forest when I’d shifted back unintentionally. Was that why I hadn’t heard them? I needed to test myself again, as soon as possible.

  “Oh, very well,” Sarah said, sounding disappointed but resigned. “I’m sorry to bail on this conversation again, Oren.”

  I shook my head, still half lost in my own thoughts. “It’s okay. There’s something I need to check on anyway.”

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed and I thought she was going to question me about it. But instead she nodded. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Aye,” I said, attempting a smile.

  Then she leaned in, in front of the page and everything, and planted a sweet and extremely welcome kiss right on my lips.

  That night as I undressed, I tried to shift again. Tried to clear my mind and reenact those early days when I’d automatically shifted at sunset. When nothing happened, I banged my fist against my dresser, knocking down the pants I’d laid across it.

  For a moment, my frustration was forgotten as something slipped from my pocket and floated to the floor. When I bent to pick it up, I groaned with regret. Sarah’s mysterious note. I’d completely forgotten to give it to her. I set it on my night table, still tempted to read it, but trying desperately to quell the urge.

  There was something strange about it. The paper was very thin compared to anything I’d ever seen. And it had perfectly straight, pale blue lines printed across it. I wondered briefly if it could be a love note, maybe even from the king. Who else in Verdinia would have paper to spare? The thought made me want to open it at once.

  But then I thought better of it. King Ash would surely use something finer, something more regal, more…purple to scribble his missives upon. In fact, this paper didn’t look like it was from Verdinia at all. And if I was right about that, I needed to get it to Sarah right away.

  The next afternoon, after an early morning spent working in the gardens, I found myself following the king’s steward through the castle so I could update His Royal Majesty on my conversation with Philip. But instead of leading me to the throne room, as I’d expected, we stopped in front of the royal library. Insid
e I found the king, draped over his favorite chair by the windows, looking casual as ever.

  “I thought we’d meet in here,” he said, not bothering to straighten himself. “The throne room can be so formal and stuffy.”

  I grinned. “Hiding out from the masses, Your Majesty?”

  He sighed, looking weary beyond his years. “Someone might have told me what I was getting myself into, inviting all the villagers to come to me directly with information about the gate.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Would you have listened?”

  “No,” he sighed again. “I suppose I would not have.”

  “Have you learned anything of value?” I asked.

  I’d been standing a few feet in front of him, my shoulders straight, one hand clasping my opposite forearm behind my back in an attempt at formality. But he waved a hand at the seat nearest to him, inviting me to sit.

  “Relax,” the king said, having sensed my discomfort. “It’s just you and I here, and you know I’ve never stood on ceremony.”

  I sat, glancing around the room. Of course, the king was never fully alone. There were two maids by the door and one male servant, presumably waiting to fetch the king anything he might desire. But his steward had waited outside, and his usual milieu of advisors and noblemen were, noticeably, absent.

  “To answer your question,” he went on. “No, I haven’t learned much of value at all. My military reports all confirm that we are in no immediate danger, but….” He waved a hand. We both knew that the military reports of a week ago hadn’t seen the attack on the village square coming, so how could we rely on them now?

  “I talked to Philip of the Dornes.” I’d hoped to go over our conversation with Sarah first, but I hadn’t been able to find her since the king had interrupted us the night before.

  “The blacksmith, yes. His work is finer than any smithy in the thirteen kingdoms. Far better than that lout my father employed at the castle all those years ago. He’s made swords for every member of my personal guard. But tell me, Oren. What does he have to do with the black gates? Is he the one who forged them?”