Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (15 page)

Looking around for a way to relieve her queasiness, Zora stalked off of the dance floor and outside to the wrap around balcony that extended off of the Great Hall.  Once outside, she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths to settle her nerves.

              The balcony was decently sized, and numerous bronze fire bowls decorated the wall every few paces in order to bring light to the outside.  Sofas with thick cushions sat tucked away in the corners providing partygoers with a place to sit and relax in the cool mountain air. 

              Zora leaned her elbows on the railing and put her head in her hands.  Close behind her, she could hear the gentle mumbling of a couple as they cuddled closely together on one of the sofas.  The music from the hall, mixed with the merry chatter of those occupying the dinner tables, floated smoothly outside.

              “Would you care for some apple cider, lovely dear?” 

Zora raised her head from her hands and turned towards the familiar voice.  She was pleased to see Milo standing next to her, with a chalice of cider held between his old hands.  He was finely dressed in a dark green velvet tunic with puffed out shoulders and a tailored waist and arms.  The sleeves and collar were lined with fur, and he wore a matching cap that hid his snow-white hair. 

              “You look right fine, Milo.  I hardly recognized you,” Zora said semi-jokingly as she took the cup of cider gratefully from his hands.  She sipped the tart drink and looked at him over the goblet’s rim.

              “I wasn’t sure if you would come,” she added as Milo moved closer to her and also leaned his elbows on the balcony railing.

              “I wasn’t going to,” he replied, thinking of the arrogant DeVore family with loathing.  “But I assumed you’d want to have a friend nearby for support.”

Zora nodded as she examined his old face.  Milo seemed to be standing up straighter, as if a nice change of cloths, good food, and sprightly music brought out a livelier side to the sophisticated teacher.

              “Did you talk to the Queen today?” Zora asked, recalling the promise he’d made to her in the garden.  “About relieving you of your duties here in at Mizra.”

              “Aye, Lady Zora.”

              “And she granted your request?”

              “She hasn’t much need of a tutor for her daughter if her daughter is no longer present,” Milo replied soundly.

              “I’m genuinely grateful for what you are doing,” Zora replied.  “But I feel bad about you uprooting yourself from Samaria to come to Montanisto with me.  It can’t be easy for you to travel such a long distance, with your age and everything I mean.”  He gave her a half serious stare that caused her to laugh out loud.

              “I always thought I was rather spry for my age,” he replied facetiously. 

              “Indeed,” Zora said with a giggle.

              “But it’s really my pleasure, dear.  Plus, I’ve spent a lot of time down south, and I have a lot of friends that I’m in need of catching up with.”  Milo shrugged indifferently.  “I would have had to make my way back down there eventually.  I guess now is as good a time as ever.”  Zora nodded then turned to face the valley again.

              “How are you doing?  With everything?” Milo asked.  “Answer me honestly.”

  Zora hesitated then said, “I’m just trying to take it all in, Milo.  The smell of the Sugarpine trees, the feel of cool mountain air on my face, the flickering lights of Alumhy in my sights.  Who knows when I’ll see them again.” 

She felt Milo grab her hand consolingly.  “I’ll imprint them in my memory, but it doesn’t even matter.  I don’t care what I have to do, I will return back home.  Samaria is the only place my heart belongs.”  Zora looked down at Milo’s knobby hand rubbing hers and noticed it was stained red with dried blood.

“Milo, are you injured?” she asked worriedly.  The old man followed her gaze and jerked his hand away when he realized what she was looking at.  He quickly licked his thumb and began cleaning the dried blood off his skin.

“Don’t worry about it, my dear,” he said quickly, now running the back of his hand on his pants.  Zora frowned at him, but the old man just shrugged it away.

  “In fact, I’d really be honored if you accompanied me for a dance.  Perhaps it will take your mind off of everything.”

              “Are you able to do so?”

              “Didn’t I just tell you what a spry old man I was?” Milo countered.  He pulled her to the middle of the balcony, in front of a couple of Samarians sitting on the sofas, and began moving her around in pathetic, limping circles.  Zora just laughed, his playful actions truly uplifting her mood.  In fact, it was the best dance of the evening.  The young noble wasn’t sure how long she swayed with Milo to the music coming from inside, but suddenly she felt Milo’s pathetic movements halt and a shadow move over the light coming from the hall.

              Zora turned around to see what Milo was looking at.  Queen Evangeline had appeared and was standing in the doorway to the balcony.  Rays of light surrounded her curvaceous frame, and her doll-like face was twisted in anger.  She glared at Milo like an insect that needed to be squashed under her foot.

              “What are you doing out here?” she asked frostily.  Zora looked to Milo, fearful that the Queen would take her anger out on the elderly teacher, but he had already released his hold of her and stepped several paces away from the princess.

              “Nothing, mother.  I’m just getting some fresh air.”

              “Well, you need to be inside!  With your betrothed!  Not prancing about with some senile old man!” 

She marched forward and grabbed Zora by the upper arm, jerking her towards the inside of the hall.  Zora stumbled a little bit as her mother shoved her back towards the table where Spencer was still seated.  Zora looked desperately over her shoulder to see if Milo was okay, but he’d already disappeared into the shadow of the night.

***

Well after midnight, following the celebration of her engagement, Zora returned back to her bedchamber mentally and physically exhausted.  When she entered her chamber, she was surprised to see that Arianna had already packed up most of her things so they’d be ready for her departure in the morning.  Zora went over to her wardrobe and removed a medium sized puzzle chest from inside.  She manipulated the many compartments until it opened in the middle, and several of her most prized possessions lay inside.  There were rare and potent herbs and spices, several gems and crystals she’d collected from the many years of traveling the mines, loose parchment with runes copied onto them, and other knick-knacks.  Zora removed the vile of truth telling potion she’d made earlier and added it to the collection. 

Finally, she picked up the azurite brooch Loral had given her and brought it up to her chest, imagining how it would look pinned to her cloak.  Its royal blue color was so deep that it looked black at certain angles, and it glimmered from the inside out.  Zora frowned as she handled the gem piece gently.  It was beautiful, and its intricate designs were simply cut, but it was just too large for her tiny upper body.  Disappointed, the young woman wrapped the broach in a felt cloth and placed it in an outer component of the box.  Zora looked around the emptiness of her bedchamber for the last time.  She had failed to notice a kettle of fresh coffee that sat steaming on the nightstand. The woman gave a slight smile.  Arianna truly was a good friend.

              Sipping on the coffee, Zora replayed over and over the brief but enlightening conversation she’d exchanged with Spencer.  The comforting aroma of the drink did nothing to remove the disgust that was now hovering in the pit of her stomach.  The truth potion Spencer had involuntarily ingested gave Zora a glimpse into her future, and it looked bleak. 

Anger for her mother swelled in her heart.  Weren’t parents supposed to guard and protect their children, to offer them the best life possible?  That didn’t seem to be the case with Evangeline, not after having met Spencer DeVore.  All Zora wanted was to have the feelings and memories of this night erased from her memory forever.

              Reaching underneath her bed pillow, she pulled out a pouch and squeezed the jimson weed seedpod that was inside it.  Zora casually dumped the seeds into her cup of coffee and refilled the cup from the kettle.  Steam swirled around her face.  The seeds bobbed in the brown liquid for a moment before she downed the contents.  Afterwards, with the bitter taste of coffee on her lips, she lay facedown on the bed and drifted off into a restless sleep.

***

Following Zora’s marriage celebration, Ambrose Cornwell, advisor to the Queen, retreated back to his small study.  He began pacing nervously across the floor as he awaited the arrival of his colleagues.  He’d subtly handed Arvil Pennington and Brutus Bludworth a note while exiting the Great Hall that requested they meet him in his study right after the feast.  He had to send word via messenger to reach Talan Leatherby, since he was working in the mines and absent from the celebration.  Ambrose’s motives for initiating this meeting without the Queen’s knowledge was for her advisors to come to some sort of solution as to how they might survive Samaria’s economic collapse without having to give up precious land to the tyrant of Nomanestan.

              The advisor was overwhelmingly suspicious of the Queen’s recent activities.  She was away from her Queendom far more than usual, with no communication to her advisors about what she was doing.  A couple of days ago, he’d even caught a glimpse of her sneaking off before sunrise into the eastern mountains towards Sugarpine Pass.  He couldn’t imagine why she needed to go there. 

              Finally, Ambrose took a seat at his desk and chewed his fingernails nervously.  He was considering reaching out to his cousin, Leonardo Santini, the Chancellor of Rienne, for advice on how to handle Samaria’s current state of affairs.  After debating it over and over in his mind, he broke down and quickly wrote a letter to Leonardo in long, fluid strokes.  Before long, four pieces of parchment were filled out front to back and contained all his concerns over the Queen’s immoral dealings lately.  He sealed it with his own personal seal and then the official Samarian seal so Leonardo would know whom was addressing him with such urgency from Samaria.  He called in the messenger boy and gave him specific instructions on how to get this letter to Leonardo without being noticed while sneaking through Mizra’s corridors. 

A faint knock at the door startled him as Arvil and Brutus entered his study quietly.  Ambrose peeped his head out into the hallway to ensure no one had followed the other two men before shutting the door behind him.

“Has anyone been able to get in contact with Talan?” he asked as the men took a seat in front of his desk and helped themselves to the decanter of liquor sitting on the edge.

              “Unfortunately, no,” Brutus said gravely.  “No one seems to know where he is.”

              “I’ll tell you where he is,” Arvil sniped, “doing the Queen’s sleazy business, that’s where.”  Arvil took a sip of the liquor and winced.  “I’ve even heard talk that she has him working on some ‘special project’ down in the mines worth limitless amounts of money.  Something so extravagant that our debt to Olger Guttensen would be paid in full.  Why she didn’t let her advisors in on her secretive plans infuriates me.  I think she wants to keep it all to herself, the selfish wench, whatever it may be.”

              “Thousands of men work in the mines,” Brutus said.  “If there was something else valuable down there, surely we would have heard about it by now.  That many people can’t keep a secret.”

              “Unless she’s paying them off somehow to keep them quiet,” Arvil grunted spitefully.

              “With what money?” Brutus exclaimed.  “Samaria sure doesn’t have any extra lying around.”

              “Gentlemen, I think we are focusing on the wrong issue at hand,” Ambrose interrupted, “and overlooking a very simple solution to all of our dilemmas.”  He’d filled his wooden pipe with a bushel of leaf and lit the top of it. 

              “We…” he pointed at the two of them, “are the Advisors of Samaria.  Therefore, we have the authority to change the law as deemed necessary for the welfare of our country.  For the past sixteen years, the true heir to the throne has been denied her right to ascension by a simple, out dated law.  I believe we have the power to update such a law and create a new one that will allow Zora to ascend to the throne that is rightfully hers.”  He stopped to make sure he had Brutus and Arvil’s attention.

“She loves her country and the people of Samaria love her.  There would be no objections from our citizens if we did this.  In fact, I believe that a change in power would only give the Samarian people renewed hope that we can mend the mess Queen Evangeline has gotten us into.  While they may not know that our lands are soon to be occupied by an age-old foe, they do know something is wrong.  Over the next couple of months, they will need a new figure of hope, and I believe Zora can provide that for us.”  He inhaled on his pipe and blew out the wisps of smoke.

              “But how can we be sure that Zora would be any better to rule Samaria than her mother?” Arvil interjected.  “She’s never been trained or educated in how to lead a country.  The Queen has done everything possible to keep her in the dark.  Do you think it’s wise to throw someone so inexperienced into a role that’s so demanding?  She’d be ruling the wealthiest country in the Realm.  There is no room or option for mistakes.”