Heart of Stone (12 page)

17.

Marcus

Palace Royale, Gemmes

Drake sent him a missive early in the morning, saying they needed to meet, now. Marcus grunted as he read the parchment, and handed it back to his butler. He hadn’t intended to begin his day this way. Not with yesterday being so unexpected. So surprising.

Cozette had kissed him under the pavilion, and remembering the moment caused his chest to swell.
Happiness
, he thought with surprise, not knowing the last time he felt this way. Maybe the woman he longed for was still buried somewhere, wanting to be found. Perhaps he hadn’t known where to look.

He hoped to start the day with Cozette, perhaps inviting her to join him for breakfast with a chance to discuss the various Royal families who already had written back with keen responses for their ball. Drake suggested declaring the day of the ball a national holiday, a way to garner support from the miners. They were the ones who would be required to work harder and more often if a treaty passed between the countries. Garnering the miner’s compliance was essential.

That breakfast conversation would have to wait. Drake didn’t send messages like this if it wasn’t of vital importance. He trusted Drake not to waste his time. Besides, Drake would enjoy hearing of Cozette and his rekindling. Old friends were good for things like that.

He walked to his quarters, trying to think what could possibly be on Drake’s mind. His fleet had begun refurbishments in preparation, albeit prematurely, for the new trade routes. The King’s Légion consisted of soldiers who patrolled the borders, to insure nothing breached the kingdom. This wasn’t the time for problems to arise. The time to gain more power for Gemmes beckoned the king, not fight for the power already secured!

“Your Majesty, so sorry to start your day in this manner, but it is of utmost importance,” Drake began.

“What is it that can’t wait until breakfast is served?” he grumbled, taking a
pain au chocolat
from the tray a servant placed on a wooden table, carved intricately with the crest of Gemmes.

A legendary gem, found by the first man who declared this country the land of Gemmes, formed the crest. A diamond that, although for centuries resided on the reigning queen’s hand, had been missing for over a hundred years. The crest remained the same; only the stone had become lost in the ruble of an evolving country. A country now thriving from the work of the miner’s hand. The miners were paid jaspers for their grueling days’ work, while they found for the king all his onyx and emerald, and more precious stones than that. Yet they reaped none of the rewards.

Before, in the country of Gemmes, if someone found a jewel, it was theirs for the taking. The kings in Marcus’s family line had changed all of that. They created a commerce based on cravings for more, supported by glorified servants … miners.

The two men sat on deep leather chairs in the sitting area. They had spent many evenings in this room, smoking fine cigars, drinking deep red
vin
from carafes. Their conversation ran deep; these men avoided few topics. Marcus held but one secret from this man. One secret from everyone.

“I received word from the Commander of the Légion,” Drake began. Only then did Marcus realize that his Advisor lost his semblance of cool as a nervous tap of his foot and incessant popping of his knuckles gained ground. “The boy, the Gem Tracker, they think he found the sixth stone. The eight-sided diamond.”

Drake pointed at the carved table before them, where steaming pastries were piled high a silver platter, much too full for these two men. The diamond seemed three dimensional, engraved so finely. They stared at the eight-sided silhouette.

“And this has been confirmed? Seen with the commander’s own eyes?”

“Not exactly, My Lord. An informant saw the boy, Tristan, leave the Montagne after one day. The informant, Damian wasn’t able to follow him because he had an … injury, from the Tracker apparently, that left him unable to travel by foot.”

“The commander? Where? Why didn’t he go to the Montagne?”

“He wasn’t in the North. No one has quite taken this whole legend seriously. You included, if I might add, but once he received word from Damien, a rider came here straightaway. He travelled through the night.”

“Where’s the Tracker now?” Marcus questioned, his voice rising.

              “We aren’t quite clear on his whereabouts.”

Drake cleared his throat and didn’t meet the king’s eyes. Marcus wouldn’t take too kindly to the
trésor
hunter having gone missing. Marcus remained quiet, brows furrowed, listening intently to Drake.

“We know he’s travelling on foot. Some people mentioned a girl with him at the
Aubérge
he had stayed, but apparently the rumor is he’s always with one young thing or another.”

Marcus stuffed the rest of the croissant in his mouth, thinking, focused. Intent.

“What does this mean for us?” Marcus asked coolly. “We have enough to deal with! The ball, the trade routes, are all more pressing than some insipid boy!”

“Actually, it means that if the
Trésor de L’espoir
is real, and Tristan finds it, life as we know it is over. The ball, the trade routes. It will no longer be
you
who other countries will be interested in; all focus will be on this boy.”

Drake spoke with precision, as if he practiced this speech for hours before meeting with the king, likely he had. He had as much at stake as anyone if the king lost his grip on the throne.

The king was not as poised.

He stood, animatedly, and began shouting his opinion, “That is preposterous. If the
trésor
is found within Gemmes, the bounty is mine! Anything in the mountains belongs to me. Me! I own the King’s Montagne! I am the king for Hedge’s sake!”

“Legend has it this
trésor
is more than gems. It is power. It is strength. It holds the hope of a future and will belong to the person who finds it, not the one who claims it.”

“So what do you propose, since you clearly know all about this legend?” He voice cut with an edge, and in that moment he hoped to hurt Drake. The bearer of bad news was an understatement. This was life altering news.

“I propose, Your Highness, that you find the
trésor
first. You don’t give this child a chance. If you find it first, it is yours.”

“But you said there are seven stones. He already has the other six. Can I go take them from him and claim them as mine? Will it work then?”

“I think so. See, you need to gather all seven stones and place them in the mountain’s foot, on an altar of some sort. Once they are together in the right place – then you can open the mountain. Then the real
trésor
is yours. It’s not about finding the stone, per se. The important part is placing them.”

The room fell silent. Marcus shook his head slowly at first, then faster, as if a child preparing for a tantrum.

“But the ball, the dignitaries. The Royalty from four nations have already responded that they will attend. What do I tell them? That the king is now traipsing the country looking for a stone?”

“No. You tell them nothing. You tell no one anything. Not a soul. If word gets out, chaos will break lose. Can you imagine, an entire country fighting for the chance to find this particular garnet!” Drake sounded adamant in his approach.

“A garnet? One single measly garnet? A garnet is not precious, not rare. Thousands sit in my vault this moment. Why is that the final stone?   Isn’t the diamond of Gemmes much more valuable than that?” The king sat back down, wanting to understand what he dealt with.

“I don’t know the reason. I only know what the palace historian told me. He filled me in late last night when I had gotten word. We were up most of the night pondering the ins and outs of the legend.”

“Does he know, that there is only one gem left to find?”

“No. I kept the reason a secret, not wanting to throw the palace into pandemonium. As long as everyone else continues on as planned, with Cozette preparing for the ball … we will deal with this all quickly. Tristan is on a roll, he will want to find this stone before the month’s out.”

“Then we should go look in my vault. Look for the stone. Send your scouts to locate Tristan. I want to be steps behind him. Or better, make him a prisoner. Torture him for the facts.”

“As you wish, My Lord. I will send word immediately to the King’s Legion to search the country.” Drake stood to go, “One other thing I thought I should mention.” He wouldn’t meet the King’s eyes.

“What’s that?” Marcus shouted.

“The Hedge Riders. They were seen where the boy last traipsed. The Hedge is after him, too.”

Anger shook through Marcus as he slammed his fist on the table. No one had seen The Hedge Riders for generations. He knew the
trésor
must be real if they were willing to come and fight for it.

“I will find this boy. I will not lose everything for some stupid child who can find buried
trésor
!” His voice bellowed across the room, causing Drake to wince.

The trade routes were the least of his worries if the Riders had appeared. He knew the darkness required to summon them.

18.

Sophie

King’s Montagne North, Gemmes

Walking back to Madame Josephine’s boarding house, Sophie pretended not to notice the people who passed them and the whispers creeping in her ears. Townspeople literally pointed at them. Though Tristan walked with the ease only a handsome man can get away with, and she grew up with her not-mother commenting on her beauty … she wasn’t used to people giving her so much positive attention.

Worse, Tristan soaked it up. He smiled and tilted his head toward them, as if they shared a secret.

Tristan leaned over and whispered, “The villagers know I’m the Gem Tracker, they think I am the future of Gemmes. They’re sick of the king’s tyranny … and believe I am the change.”

With arms linked, Sophie wouldn’t dare leave his side, not now that she wholly invested herself in the
trésor
. When they returned to the
Aubérge
and placed the diamond in its hiding place, with the four other stones, she would be secured to him until the last gem found itself in their hands. He promised her as much, and she’d hold him to his love-struck words. Her future life in
Éclat
hinged on it.

She liked Tristan’s bold bravado, his strong wit and adventurousness. He wasn’t anything like Henri. Henri was so … so … safe. He wore an apron and happily made croissants. Regular and ordinary and only interested in her in a puppy love sort of way.

This is what turned Sophie’s stomach to knots.

How much easier his life would have been if he’d chosen to be friends with the silly boys in town instead of her. But no. He always chose to stay by her side.

Which is why her stomach ached as Tristan whispered in her ear again, asking if they should stay in the same room when they returned to the
Aubérge
. “We can save a few jaspers,” he said with a laugh. Both knowing jasper was the last thing on his mind.

Henri would hate her if he knew she gave the ring away. Returning to the village empty handed was out of the question; she could never face him again. It would be unbearable to see the look on his face if she showed up to the
Vallee
with the Gem Tracker. No. That would be too terrible. She didn’t want to crush him. Just not marry him.

She stared straight ahead, trying to push away thoughts of Henri, and focus instead on the person absolutely focused on her.

“So, what is the next stone on the list?” she asked genuinely interested in finding out where the next leg of this quest would lead them.

“Let’s wait until we get somewhere more discreet to talk.”

Sophie nodded, growing aware that people actually followed them, watching their every move. It unnerved her.

Tristan stopped to purchase the makings of a meal from a vendor at a market stall. Sophie watched the stones exchange hands, realizing for the first time how truly poor she had grown up.

A single mother raised her for years, and Sophie never actually considered contributing financially. Not like Henri had done for his family for years. Her life had never afforded the luxury to purchase a jug of
vin
, hearty loaves and rich meat and cheeses on a whim.

As they kept walking, Sophie realized she liked having someone with money, who chose to take care of her. She liked the envy of the people they passed. Her not-mother always hounded her on the characteristics of a good partner, honesty, integrity, and morality. Sophie had always found herself more interested in the rough and tumble. The ones who drank more than they ought, and who said things they shouldn’t in the company of women.

“We can go to your room when we get there. I don’t want to be alone,” she said. Her mind floated back to Miora and the stone reading. Miora had warned her against a grim future. She didn’t want to face that alone in an unfamiliar room. She tugged on the moonstone necklace. It had grown warm, and Sophie couldn’t help but wonder what that might mean.

They walked briskly to the
Aubérge
and quickly climbed the flight of stairs, anxious to rest after a long morning. Packing up and heading back down the mountain had taken hours. As Tristan swung open the door, Sophie couldn’t help but eye the single bed with confidence. Surely a night in this bed with the Tracker would make up for the exhausting twenty-four hours she’d had.

They set down their bags with a huff, travelling proved exciting, but quite exhausting.

“First things first,” Tristan said the moment the door closed. He pushed a chair under the doorknob, jamming it in tight. He went to the same place she had watched him go the day before, when he first showed her his gemstones.

She helped him push the bureau out of the way and then they rolled back the rug. She sorted through his bag, handing him the wide bolstered chisel per his request.

He pulled her closer to him and stole a kiss, full on the lips. Then another, exploring her mouth, as she dropped in his lap. The hiding of the jewels no longer the first thing on either of their minds.

She sighed, breathlessly, reminded of the kisses the night before at the fire. Her desire grew and it wasn’t until a knock came on the door that they remembered the urgency of hiding the diamond.

“Tristan?” Madame Josephine called, rapping on the door once more.

“Yes, what is it?” he called back, clearly taken off guard. He whispered to Sophie, “Into the bathroom, there through the door.”

“The dresser?” she asked, pointing to the bureau they just moved.

“I’ll open the door a crack.”

“Alright,” Sophie said raising her eyebrows at him. She stood, leaning over further than necessary, revealing what hid under her blouse to him. She picked up the hem of her skirt, holding it higher than necessary, and smiled deliciously at him before tiptoeing to the bathroom. She pulled the door shut as Tristan moved the jammed-at-the-doorknob chair.

She heard the old-fashioned woman address him as the room’s door creaked open slightly. She leaned against the bathroom door to hear more closely.

“I wanted to be sure you had enough linens. I was down at the miner’s hospital the other day when you arrived. They’ve set up a make-shift area where we can try to nurse the men to health.”

“Oh that’s good of you. I know everyone is pitching in to help the effort. Remy sends his love, of course. You know, he isn’t well, either. That’s why he didn’t come with me.”

“Oh dear, Tristan. I always worry about you boys traipsing in the mines. Poor Remy. I’ll be saying my prayers to the Hedge.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I need to clean myself up. Thank you again for keeping the rooms for us.”

“Oh sweetie, you and Remy are what keep this old place of mine from ruin.”

Sophie heard the door click shut and she smiled wide as Tristan swung opened the bathroom.

“Well, look at you, providing for the old hag out of the generosity of your heart,” Sophie teased.

“Hardly. She was Remy’s
au pair
as a boy. That woman would do anything for him. Why do you suppose we hide our
trésor
in the floor of her
Aubérge
?”

“I hadn’t supposed.”

“You need to start supposing a lot more if you’re to be a Gem Tracker. This is serious. The king will be after me as soon once he realizes I have another stone. You saw the townspeople. They know who I am. It’s a dangerous job.”

“How dangerous?” Sophie provoked, handing him the chisel once more, raising her eyebrows seductively.

“Very.” He didn’t take her bait. “Truly. We were only in the Montagne a day; people will realize I’m moving on to the next stone. The king has informants everywhere. You know that. And they’re not only reporting on me, but on all the movement in Gemmes.”

Tristan began prying up the single floorboard. So clever, Sophie realized, thinking how much Tristan cared for the
trésor
, more than anything else. This became obvious to her as he cautiously took the black box from her outstretched hand. She watched as he gingerly opened the box, revealing the brilliant stone, his face alight as he peered at it from different angles.

Once he set the stone gently next to the others, they made quick work of replacing the board, laying the carpet and scooting back the bureau.

“
Voila
!” Sophie said, clapping her hands toward him. “
Magnifique
!”

He returned her grin as he took a seat in a chair, sighing and stretching out his body.

“You look beat up,” he said, as he began unlacing his leather boots.

“That bad, huh?” she asked.

“A bath’s through there and I can bring you some warm water if you’d like to wash up.”

“Yes. Do that,” she answered quickly. Then she paused, biting her lip, “And then what, Tristan? What do you want to do next?”

Sophie watched Tristan turn red, and Sophie laughed out loud. She made him nervous she realized, with a little more satisfaction than appropriate.

“You aren’t answering me, Tristan. That’s not nice.” She pouted her red lips at him, crossing her arms, pushing up everything she had under the blouse. “I’ll forgive you just this once. I’m not made of stone.” She walked through the door leading to the bathroom and heard him moan as she clicked the door shut. Looking in the mirror, she smiled.

This whole game of cat and mouse was actually quite fun.

She slipped off her filthy skirt and top, dirt caked her hem and a coat of grime covered her skin from all the mountain hiking. Though she’d be a lot dirtier if she’d gone ahead and left for the mines. She didn’t like to admit that maybe she didn’t have what it took to be a miner.

She pretended to be much stronger than she felt.

Her clothing fell to the floor and Sophie stood in her chemise and underclothes. She re-tied her hair on her head, an absolute mess from the mountain humidity. Her narrow shoulders ached from the pack and Sophie inspected her skin, realizing a bruise had formed above her hips where the pack dug at her waist.

A small knock on the door caused Sophie to jump in surprise, but she stood straight, her slender frame facing the door. Only a slice of wood separated her nearly-naked body from Tristan’s strong and striking one.

“I have the water, Bijou,” he called, pushing the door open. “Do you want --?"

She cut him off. “You can bring it in.”

A long pause hung in the air and Sophie wondered if she’d been too bold. She looked at herself in the mirror again, and realized though sweaty, no man would refuse what she offered.

“You don’t mind? I can set it down … or….” He walked in the small bathroom, holding a large pitcher of water. He looked at her standing before him, and tensed. “I think I’ll need more gallons to fill this.” He laughed looking at the size of the tub and the size of the jug. He would need to do this trip a dozen times to fill it.

“It’s fine; pour it into the basin there. I don’t need the luxury of an entire bath. Honestly.”

He nodded, and began pouring, his hands shaking slightly.

“You seem nervous or something,” Sophie stated.

“You make me….” He exhaled slowly as if trying to gain control of himself.

“What?” She seemed entirely aware of what being nearly naked meant. She enjoyed it.

“I think if I gave into what I want to do with you, I couldn’t stop myself.” He stared at her, but she realized he looked intent at her chest. She smiled at his humanity.

“I don’t care.”

She didn’t.

She knew what she wanted. She wanted to feel dangerous and in control and consumed. She wanted him to keep looking at her like she was irresistible.

“All girls care. Virtue, and all that.”

“I’m not most girls. Besides, I think the whole concept of virtue is rather archaic. I mean, I want you. You want me. We are both consenting partners, what are you so worried about?”

“How modern of you,
Mon Petit Bijou
.”

He pulled her close and pressed his lips against her neck. He kissed her skin and he kissed her shoulders. She didn’t ask him to stop.

“I want you,” he whispered.

“I know,” she replied, breathlessly, pressing her body against his.

They pushed out of the bathroom and onto the bed. Sophie unabashedly straddled him, pulling at the buttons on his shirt, completely in control of what she desired.

“You are recklessly perfect, Sophie.” Tristan pushed his hands under her chemise, and Sophie shivered at his touch against her back.

“That’s about right,” she said, laughing as she tugged at the leather belt on his pants. An intoxicating grin spread over his eyes and Sophie flushed, knowing how completely she craved his chiseled face and lips to be against hers.

A loud noise from outside the window distracted her, “What’s that?” she asked.

“Uhh, no clue.” He winked at her. “What does it matter. This is my whole world, right here.”

“You’re saying that because I gave you the diamond,” she flirted.

“Hardly. I don’t know what it is, but I know I’m supposed to have you.”