Heart of Stone (9 page)

12.

King Marcus

Palace Royale, Éclat

He sat at his desk, pondering Cozette’s willingness to play the part of happy bride. The Royalty that would be coming in a few weeks’ time for the ball were not to know that they were putting on a front. He thought she would be displeased by the proposition; her response surprised him to say the least. It shouldn’t have, it had been a long time since he understood her. He could pinpoint the exact moment, if he was honest with himself.

Marcus had lost much sleep lamenting the loss of the woman he loved; but he never dared utter the truth of what happened that long ago night. The night he sent his princess away, the night he lost the wife he knew.

When they first met her ruthless vengeance enamored him. She entered his life as an unexpected breath of fresh air in a stale and regimented world. One led by stoic men and docile women. Not Cozette. From the moment they spoke, he knew, they were the same.

The parties that used to be an utter bore, were suddenly intoxicating, as she would twitter cruelties behind the veil of a fan. They would naïvely plot the ways they would conquer the world. It had all seemed possible. Because they were in it together.

No one liked the match. They thought a queen needed to be meek, and Marcus changed when they were together. He wanted her opinion on everything, he valued her so. She became the shining star in Marcus’s world, and he did anything to please her, and they were so young. Foolish and in love, a real tangible love.

They were wed, and a few years later, at the tender age of seventeen, Cozette was with child. She carried in her belly the heir to the throne, and on her shoulders, the increasingly wealthy country of Gemmes. Although the people of Gemmes didn’t support them, she came up with strategies to optimize the miner’s output. She created a system for accounting every gem in their vault. She helped make Gemmes a country with a name, a legacy, and a fortune.

Marcus watched as the life he envisioned slip away the night Cozette gained the heart of her child. He remembered his cry, that night in her bedchamber; he remembered the
devins-guérisseur’s
callous eyes when he made his choice.

“What is happening? Help her!” he bellowed at Aimée, who held the small, bloodied child in her hands.

“She isn’t breathing,” Aimée spoke with fear in her voice.

“I know that; help her!” he shouted, pointing to his queen.

“No, my Lord, the babe. She isn’t breathing either.”

“A girl you say?” The king shook his head betraying his dismay at her words. No boy was borne to carry his name.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Aimée answered, her eyes were full of worry.

The devins-guérisseur’s eyes darted between the two listless creatures, beings much like her. Tethered to neither this world nor the next, instead floating in the in-between.

“Help us, Tamsin, I know you can,” Aimée pleaded. Aimée’s life was on the line if the king’s family died on her watch this night.

The king looked at Tamsin, for the first time letting his eyes leave his queen. If she didn’t help, all four would die. The babe, the queen, Aimée, and herself. There was no choice.

“All of the attendants, out. You must leave. Leave us to do the magic alone,” Tamsin directed.

The attendants moved from the room quickly, but he heard the whispered words as they left, “She looks too young to be a sorcière.” Marcus feared the truth in the words, that perhaps she was not capable, but it didn’t matter, not in a time like this, when Cozette’s life was on the line.

“Can you save her?” the king asked.

“Yes, give the child to me,” Tamsin told Aimée with authority.

“Not the child, sorcière. Save my queen.” Marcus begged as he dropped to the queen’s side, taking her small hands in his, kissing them tenderly. “She is my everything. My life. My true trésor.”

“As you wish.” Tamsin spit, her clear disgust for his choice rippling out of her. “I must see what I have to work with first, Your Highness.”

That night the callous parts of Cozette’s interior faded, and she became pure and beloved by all. The hardened parts of her slipped into the night the way the child did. She awoke a different woman. A woman Marcus didn’t know. A woman he couldn’t understand. The change in her made the choice regrettable on good days, deplorable on the bad.

Marcus grew old alone, and lonely people are rarely happy. Solitude, when forced, is a wild beast. It can make monsters of the gentlest men, and Marcus was never gentle. Now the slivers of camaraderie within him vanished, resigned to rule and conquer the world alone.

Upon hearing his plan of the ball the day before, Cozette had bowed her head and spoke, “I would do anything you ask of me, Your Grace. I promised to do so the day we married.”

Even though she had entered the dining hall looking the part of the girl he once knew, she couldn’t betray the woman she’d become. She acquiesced immediately.

He took a deep breath, remembering the girl her fell in love with once more. The girl who stood at the altar, letting him slide a ring on her slender finger. The girl who knelt low to the ground, as Marcus’s father placed the
Royal Crown of Gemmes
upon her head. The entire city of Éclat came to watch, but he only had eyes for her.

He remembered and it hurt him more than he expected. It hurt to look back at his life with the ability to identify the moment he lost everything he loved. Knowing the reason for the lifetime of regret made the truth inexplicably worse.

Cozette didn’t know that. She didn’t know the burden he carried. The burden of watching the woman you love transform into a creature that didn’t fit in the world built for her. She became too gentle, too kind, and too lovely. As if the hearts that had joined on their wedding day severed and the heart that he had fallen in love with died.

In losing that heart, he lost himself.

Drake walked into Marcus’s private study with a scroll in his hand. Dressed in a dark grey suit, the collar lined with glossy, black melanite jewels; he looked the part of the king’s most trusted advisor. A tall man with a sharp nose matching the king’s.

Drake shook his head and handed the parchment to the king speaking directly to him, “You need to read this. From our informant in the North.”

“What is it now? We’re already trying to solve the country’s trade problems, something more pressing than that?” the king muttered in annoyance, standing next to his oldest friend.

“Yes, but this needs to be dealt with, swiftly.” Drake pointed to the message,
GEMS TRACKED: URGENT
.

Marcus read it quickly, tightening his lips as he did. This informant’s note helped nothing.

“Send more men to shut this boy down. I thought we had dealt with rounding up these reckless trackers already? How do their numbers climb? They are thieves! I won’t have it!” Marcus shouted as he slammed his fist on the desk, spilling the tea on the table. “Treason! Treason calls for death!”

“But, Your Majesty, if I may add in a simple word here….” Drake paused.

“Most important, I don’t want any other country getting word. It would undermine my power.” Marcus held up the scroll as he declared his plan of action, and then crumbled it, throwing it across the room.

“Marcus, listen for a moment,” Drake pressed. No other man in the kingdom could get away with talking to him like this, but Marcus allowed it. Drake was his most loyal friend.

“Out with it, then,” Marcus declared. He was a bitter and angry man, but not a stupid one. Drake was his Head Advisor for a reason.

“What if this Gem Tracker is right? What if there really is the
Trésor de L’espoir
?”

“If this mythical legend held even a nugget of truth … I’d send my men to find it myself, but there isn’t. It’s a story as old as time.” Marcus laughed at Drake’s question. No doubt this Tracker was a foolish young man drumming attention. It worked.

“But what if?”

“If what? If I am wrong? Then I will bow to whoever finds the missing jewel and pledge my allegiance.” He guffawed at the words he spoke.

Drake didn’t share in the laughter. He took this seriously, and his focus caused Marcus to pick up the paper once more, studying the words. Drake spoke, “If it’s real, and we don’t find it first, then the Gem Tracker will have all the power. Power over the land, power over you.”

The air in the room shifted, as Marcus realized the gamble he’d make if he let the cards fall as they willed. It was too great a risk, ridiculous myth or not.

“I will send some men, Your Majesty.”

“I suppose you should.”

Marcus sat at his ornate desk, edged in crystals; trying not to think about the foolish story Drake had brought to his attention. A ridiculous boy, vying for the throne. He curled his lips at the absurdity that a simple boy from a village presumed to gain his own power.

Marcus focused on King Francis instead, calculating ways to force his hand, gripping tightly to his power gave him much more pleasure than a petty thief.

He had reviewed the preposterous items Cozette had agreed to provide for the people of Gemmes yesterday when listening to the representatives. It would cost a sizable fortune he wasn’t keen on parting with. School funds, medicine, eradicating the food shortages. The list went on and on. The people loved Cozette because of her bleeding heart, but love only takes one so far.

He wasn’t interested in love, anyway.

He lusted.

Power and control were yours if you held wealth. He wouldn’t lose all of that to some petty thief known as a Gem Tracker.

13.

Sophie

Montagne North, Gemmes

Sophie couldn’t believe her luck. An hour in this dingy town, and already she had a
partenaire dans le crime
. She watched Tristan meticulously pack his bag, filling the extra crevices with the food he had purchased. Sophie insisted he buy plenty of hard candies if he wanted to keep her in his employ. He obliged.

His wavy blond hair hung over his face, covering the profile she couldn’t help but admit she enjoyed. More than nice, actually. She bit her lip as she watched him, oddly tempted to fling herself at him. He didn’t notice; he focused on the bags sitting on his bed in the
Aubérge.
She reached toward him, wanting to touch him. He didn’t notice, so consumed with the packing ritual he apparently had.

“Just two nights in the mountain, then we’ll be back here, right?” Sophie asked. Her priority remained to find her parents. Still, when he asked her to be his porter, she hadn’t said no. Clearly he offered the job as an excuse to keep her here, and Sophie didn’t mind one bit. Sophie had hardly any money to finance the finding of the parents, and zero clues on which to go.

In the pit of her stomach she knew leaving the
Vallee
so hastily was a tad bit foolish.

“Yes, if we don’t find the diamond by then, we‘ll need to reassess. I need to go, with that informant blabbing, I don’t want to get any obnoxious trackers on my tail, or worse, the King’s Légion. I’d prefer they stay seaside, arresting other Trackers.”

Sophie nodded, absorbing his words. He had divulged so much information since meeting her, she couldn’t help but wonder why he felt so comfortable telling her.

“Why do you trust me? Perhaps I’m a spy in disguise. Or I could work for the king himself!” Sophie dared.

“Something about you. It’s like I don’t….”

“Don’t what?” she insisted.

“I don’t want you to go. I am drawn to you, does that sound strange?”

“Yes, but also a bit desperate. I don’t do clingy, you should know that.” Sophie twirled her hair in her hand thinking on what he’d said.

Sure, it sounded thrilling, now that she believed him to be a legitimate hunter of jewels. One peek in Tristan’s hiding place confirmed his story. A Gem Tracker indeed, with five rare and precious stones to his name. Well, one was missing, a sapphire. With his friend, he’d explained.

After showing her the gems, he explained how his Uncle Rémy had believed in it enough to spend his life in pursuit of the
Trésor de L'espoir
. Tristan believed, too.

Sophie now firmly planted herself on the believing side. She couldn’t help but be. She had seen the jewels. Why Tristan trusted her with seeing them didn’t seem so clear to her, but he kept looking at her in a way that made her believe he did.

An awful lot.

Each of the four jewels was magnificent in their own right. Tristan said they each held a special purpose for being included in the collection. It seemed hard to believe these precious gems came from the mountains. They made the simple jasper in her pouch seem insignificant. They made everything seem insignificant.

They drew her in the moment she set her eyes on their glistening surfaces. They caused her to think of Miora. Thoughts of the five stones she had drawn. Stones Miora claimed propelled her fate. She didn’t want to think about any of that; it overwhelmed and devastated Sophie at the same time. Being here now, a day away from home, she felt a lifetime away. She had nothing to go off of to find her true mother, besides a story of a woman at the side of a road.

She needed this distraction.

Besides, it was easy to lust after the
trésor
needing to be found. Tristan had promised her a share in the fortune. Finding the
trésor
would seal the fate Sophie dreamed of: living in the royal city of Éclat in a decadent apartment, and a lifetime of self-indulgence. Miora’s stone reading would have no influence over her if she held the power of Gemmes in her hand. These stones couldn’t link themselves to her past if she created a new future.

Tristan revealed his grin, bright and wild for adventure. A look Sophie knew well, for the look often graced her own arched brows.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked. “So happily?”

“Because I know I am in the right place, at the right time. It’s how I always feel when another gem is within my grasp. It makes me feel … alive.”

“Well, lucky you.” Sophie returned his grin with a dazzling smile, holding onto the moonstone necklace. Still warm to her touch. “Now, are we going up the
Montagne
, or are we staying in this room all day?”

“I’d prefer to be here with you at night, Bijou.”

Tristan’s words made Sophie blush. She didn’t reprimand or scold him for his salacious words, she rather enjoyed being teased and flirted with so openly. Henri would never speak to her like that.

It felt scandalous and delicious.

Of course Sophie was drawn to him.

“Well, I’m not in the habit of sleeping with men I haven’t known one solitary day.”

“Then let’s pick this conversation up tomorrow.”

She shook her head, and he winked unswervingly.

Tristan swept his bag over his shoulder and took Sophie’s over the other. She didn’t refuse the help, though she was to be his porter.

“For the sole purpose of wanting to know my porter better,” Tristan continued, “what sorts of men are you in the habit of sleeping with?”

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?”

Tristan’s eye grew wide at the bold words Sophie spoke. Sophie knew most boys weren’t used to her brazenness.

They left Ms. Josephine’s with the promise of returning in two days’ time. She didn’t seem to care what they did as long as they paid for their rooms and did whatever mischief making they intended upon outside of her establishment.

Sophie had been the subject of enough of
that sort
of gossip in her life that it fazed her little. She liked this brazen version of herself, and wasn’t intimidated by the notion of following through on the flirty words Tristan suggested.

Her face flushed, knowing Tristan was no boy from her
Vallee
. An amatory adventurer and risk-taker and because of that, Sophie found him irresistible.

They headed out of town toward the mountains looming above them. The late afternoon sun beat heavy across their cheeks, leaving Sophie glad she’d cast-off her underskirts before they left the
Aubérge
. She felt lighter than she had in a very long time, it didn’t only have to do with her attire. She felt lighter because she didn’t feel oppressed.

With Tristan leading the way, Sophie was free to look around with a sense of curiosity and wonder she hadn’t had on her ride in. Sitting on the wagon bench with the never-ending conversationalist, Beznik, hadn’t afforded her a moment to take in the new view.

Sophie walked with her hands free, altogether useless, but Tristan seemed pleased with his employee. They easily found themselves in flirty
tête-à-tête.

“Tristan?” she asked.

“Yes,
mon petit Bijou
?” he answered, rolling the cuffs of his shirt as he walked in the summer heat. A distinct familiarity wafted between them, something they couldn’t feign no matter how suave they believed themselves to be.

“I have something for you, but I won’t give it to you until you do three things for me when we set camp tonight.” She twisted her lips coyly. She glanced over at the devastatingly gorgeous man beside her.

“Your wish is my command.”

“First of all, I need some
café
. Second I need a slice of bread slathered with melted chocolate.”

She paused, waiting for an indication that he would agree to her requests. 

“Of course. I can do these both over the fire within minutes, Bijou,” Tristan scrunched his shoulders as if this request was nothing to him.

Sophie rolled her eyes at his eagerness.

“By the way, has anyone else ever called you Bijou? Or am I the first?” he asked.

“Oh, Tristan, you’re ridiculous and, perhaps, jealous?” she scoffed. “Anyways, there was this one boy … Henri. He called me Jou-Jou.” She shook her head slightly. It only served to encourage Tristan.

“And this boy, did you ever kiss him?” They were walking deeper into the Montagne and Sophie found herself needing to stop to catch her breath.

              She paused, considering his question, and leaned against a tree. Then she released a slight huff, as though he put her through an absurd exercise of no consequence.

              “I kissed him.”

              “And did he kiss you back?” Tristan found himself walking closer to her, as though his infatuation increased after she mentioned another beau.

It made her want him all the more. She had leaned back on the tree, resting her head against the bark, as he neared closer still. Nose-to-nose, she eked out the smallest of gasps, filled with longing.

              “He kissed me back and he would have continued, had I let him, but I refused. I refused him, completely.”

              She licked her lips, her breathing increasingly heavy as he fixed his eyes on her.

She didn’t look away.

Her eyes set harder now, as though bracing herself for what came next. Tristan leaned closer, daring her to move away.

She didn’t.

“You have my promise of
chocolat
and
cafe
. What is your third request?”

“You are giving me exactly what I want.”

“Then what is my gift?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Sophie pushed away, off the tree, and kept walking forward on the path, leaving Tristan to trail after her. She smiled to herself, no doubt now that Tristan would do anything for her. The exact place she liked a beau to be.

After they walked several uphill miles, Tristan stopped at a clearing.

“What is it?” Sophie asked, putting her hands on her hips. The path led them to an abandoned site, as if the king’s miners had spent many years here excavating, then after raking it clean, left. Complete with an old mine shaft precariously open, and a wooden shack filled with empty, broken bunks.

The site sat in a clearing, open and vulnerable. The sun dropped lower in the sky, and the temperature seemed to drop the deeper in the forest they walked. Sophie wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

“Maybe we should sleep here, and then keep walking in the morning. I’m looking for a particular spot, a few miles north. We won’t make it before night. It would be safer to stay here.”

“All right….” Sophie eyed the forest nervously, just now realizing the implications of coming up this mountain with this tracker. This stranger with sweat on his brow and flickers of light in his eyes, but she knew nothing of consequence about him.

Sophie pushed any crazed ideas out of her mind, realizing he probably just wanted to drop the packs he carried all day. He quickly set to making a fire in the abandoned pit, and asked her to gather some sticks to feed the flames.

She did as he asked and then sat on an old stump, across from him. Between the setting sun and the distance from home, she felt vulnerable for the first time in her entire life. She found herself looking at Tristan but thinking of Henri. What was he doing tonight, without her?

“So what do you usually do when you are done tracking for the night?” she asked, anxious to know what he expected from this evening as he handed her the promised
café
and
chocolat
slathered bread.

“I’m always with my uncle. He and I have done every trip together since he took me under his wing. I’ve never travelled to the mountains with a girl.” He smiled through the yellow flames. “This view is better than a grey-haired man.”

“That’s a relief, I suppose.”

Tristan laughed, then continued, “Usually I go over and over in my mind where I want to look the next day. I track well because of my focus. It’ll be interesting to see how this hunt goes. You could be seen as a distraction, you know.”

This time it was Sophie’s turn to laugh, but she didn’t. The heat rose again, not from the fire, but from the way he looked at her, laughed with her. Drawing something out of her that Henri never had.

Lust.

“But how do you know, to come here, to look in this particular mountain?” She wanted to understand this young man who had sincerely handed her a stake in this fortune.

“Don’t laugh, but there is this
devins-guérisseur
I visit from time to time. Do you know what that is?”

“A divine healer? Like, a
sorcière
?”

“I suppose, but it’s not like the olden days, when
sorcière
s cast horrible spells and performed evil sorcery. The king rounded all of those
sorcières
and hung them, with reason. Tamsin’s merely a lady who lives in the
Frontiere de Provence
. She’s a harmless woman, and my mother trusted her. Mother and I would visit Tamsin if she needed medicine or guidance. After my parents died, I never stopped seeing her when I was nearby.”