Raven's Hand (4 page)

“Greetings, Mother,” he said, addressing her
image. “How go your preparations at the abbey?”

“Troublesome,” she admitted. “There has been
a change of plan. The girl I had originally hoped would become your
bond has proven to be undisciplined.”

“More trouble than she’s worth?”

“Unfortunately,” Evelyn replied.

“I see,” Nathan said, beginning to pace about
his study.

Evelyn recognized his anxiety. He could never
sit still as a child, when he was agitated over something.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that
Father’s condition worsens every day,” Nathan said. “Honestly, I’m
surprised Bella has had the strength to keep him alive this
long.”

Evelyn was already aware of everything Nathan
was telling her. However, she didn’t bother to correct him for
stating the obvious. He was as nervous as she was about the king’s
failing health. Even now, the other great houses waited upon his
death like vultures circling the sky. They saw an opportunity here
where they might wrest the crown from House Rainier and establish
the monarchy in another location.

Unfortunately, in this situation, it might
not even cost them open war. If House Rainier could not produce a
bonded successor to the throne before Stephen died then the crown
would be forfeited. At that point, politics would take over and a
consensus had to be found between all of the great houses as to
where control lay.

Bella, the king’s bond, was older than Evelyn
by nearly ten years. It was only this Daughter of Eliam and her
life force which now sustained Stephen. Through the bond, they
shared life and power. Evelyn was comforted by the fact that her
life was not the one being sacrificed in order to keep the king
alive. She would live on after. However, when Bella’s life energies
expired, so would the king.

“Do not worry so,” she said. “I have made
other arrangements. Marissa will become your bride, as we planned,
and, in due time when I pass, she will succeed me as the Mistress
of House Rainier.”

“And my bond?”

“She will arrive with me in three days’ time
among my caravan.”

“Very well, Mother,” Nathan replied,
attempting to calm his fears.

“Until I arrive, you must keep Bella strong
for your father’s sake and ours.”

“I will triple the guard on them both,” he
assured her.

“Good,” she said. “We can’t afford to lose
them before your bonding ceremony.”

Nathan Rainier bowed to his mother. Evelyn
then released the link sustained by her wand between them. The
glowing runes upon its surface returned to their usual state. In
Nathan’s study, her image vanished. At the abbey, Nathan’s study
and his image also disappeared. Once more, Evelyn stood alone in
her bedchamber.

Celia came to wake me as promised. I recalled
my dreams with perfect clarity, even the parts that were disturbing
to me. Still, it was hard for me to deny some aspects of that world
that I knew came from my waking mind as well as my unconscious
person. Finding Mistress Evelyn as an old crone who hated me and
desired only to cause me pain was certainly not an idea born only
of my subconscious. The events earlier that day were only one
example of the sort of behavior I had come to expect from that
woman.

Still, I was excited by the dramatic
difference in this dream from the others. Celia had encouraged me
to ask the man of my dreams his name, something that had never
actually occurred to me, and this time I had done it. More to my
surprise had been his reply.

I was smiling as Celia helped me with my
gown, fastening the buttons that ran up the spine of the dress with
a button hook. As yet, I had said nothing, hoping Celia would bring
up the subject. She was anxious about something, and I could only
assume that it must have to do with Mistress Evelyn and the dinner
in her honor.

Only the girls from our ward and our Matron,
Hannah, would be present. Anytime Mistress Evelyn came to us, it
always set everyone on edge. The woman was insufferable, and there
was no pleasing her. She berated Hannah for her sloppy management
of Rainier’s abbey, and, in turn, Hannah berated us for our
slothful ways and inappropriate conduct.

Celia caught my smile in the mirror. “What
are you up to?” she asked.

Since I had only been waiting all this time
for an opportunity, and she might not have provided another, I
began to gush about my experience in the dreaming world.

Celia smiled when she heard my excitement. “I
knew he would come to you again while you slept,” she said. “You
must tell me all about it at once. I need some cheering with this
dinner ahead of us, and I can see that your news must be so
wonderful that you’ve quite forgotten all about the striping the
mistress gave you earlier today.”

I turned to her from the three-sided mirror
in my blue velvet gown. My eyes changed from green to a deep azure
to match the gown. This ability I had learned when I was only
ten-years-old. At the time, my eye color would change with my
mood—a trait that startled commoners in the Daughters of Eliam.
However, I had learned to control this trait very well. Celia
didn’t make any mention of the change. Her eyes matched her
lavender gown already.

I explained the beginning of my dream, when
the crone had abused me. Celia laughed at this. It was not the
first time my unconscious mind had portrayed the woman this way.
She had heard that part many times before.

However, as I moved on to my mysterious dream
man, Celia quieted and grew intent upon catching every detail. When
I got to the dancing, she sighed as though she might swoon at any
moment. As the dream lovers floated away from the ballroom, Celia
gasped. Her lavender eyes sparkled with delight.

“So romantic,” she said, clasping her hands
to her breast. “I must start having dreams like these.”

“But that isn’t all,” I offered.

Celia grinned. “It isn’t? What else happened?
Oh, you promised you would leave nothing out.”

I laughed at her eagerness, placing my hand
upon her cheek. “I did as you suggested.”

“You asked him his name?”

I nodded.

“And he told you?”

I grinned and nodded again.

Celia gasped at this. “What is he
called?”

I grinned and then turned back to the mirror.
“We really should finish dressing for dinner,” I suggested.

Celia swatted me across my posterior with her
lace fan. “You promised,” she pouted.

“He called himself, Killian,” I replied,
watching her reaction in the mirror.

She looked puzzled. “Killian,” she said,
repeating the name for herself. “Have you ever heard that
name?”

“I haven’t,” I said. “What do you suppose it
means?”

“It seems strange that you would make up a
name for this man when you’ve never heard it before,” Celia
postulated. “Still, he is only a dream.”

My smile faded at this, and Celia noticed my
downcast expression.

“But it is still a lovely dream,” she added.
“Now you may call upon Killian in your thoughts. What a lovely
distraction.”

I nodded, smiling a little at this. She was
correct, Killian was only a dream. However, knowing the name of my
prince could only make the dreaming sweeter.

When I had dressed, Celia and I joined the
other Daughters of Eliam in the anteroom, adjacent to the main
dining room. Our titles, as such, sounded very elegant, and one
would have thought we held high station. The truth, however, was
that the Daughters of Eliam were only highborn slaves.

Besides Celia and myself, the abbey was home
to nine other girls. I was the oldest at seventeen years of age.
Celia was next in line; two years my junior. The next girl in line
was only eleven-years-old; too young to be bonded and far behind
either of us in her training.

Celia was the only girl with whom I felt I
could share my thoughts. Even she was a bit immature, but at least
she was close to my age, having similar interests. Fortunately for
both of us, we had always gotten along splendidly.

The other nine girls were also dressed in
finely crafted gowns. Despite the fact that we were slaves, we were
well provided for. It was only that we had no free will to live our
lives according to our desires. Even the commoner could come and go
as he pleased. Not so with the Daughters of Eliam. We were always
subject to the Malkind and their mortal kings. They used our bodies
and they used our power.

From the oldest, me, to the youngest, a
six-year-old named Kayla, we stood as rigid as marble statues,
waiting for Hannah to ring the bell from the dining room. Each and
every one of us had learned stillness and obedience the hard way as
a young girl living within the abbey under Hannah’s care.

Still, it was no wonder she was so stern with
us. Our bad behavior reflected directly upon Hannah. More than
once, she had faced the same sort of punishment I had endured
earlier at Evelyn’s hand. I supposed any sane person would rather
show little mercy, in order that we perform as expected, and
thereby avoid receiving those punishments herself.

We heard the bell; eleven dolls dressed in
our finest and ready to be put out on display. From the youngest to
the oldest, we filed out through the door when the servant opened
to us. Our dresses represented eleven different colors, yet there
was no clashing of hues. We were a rainbow on parade for our royal
guest of honor.

I came through last, after Celia, in my azure
blue. Mistress Evelyn was already present, standing next to her
chair at the head of the table, watching our every move. A female
servant—for there were no males allowed at the abbey—waited
patiently behind her tall chair to seat her when Evelyn would begin
to move again.

We did not look at the mistress until our
lineup had reconvened along one side of the table, where Hannah,
dressed in her best, awaited us. As we stood at attention, our eyes
were reverently set upon her. The gesture was done only so she
could see that we had each mastered the ability to match our eye
color with our gowns. She scrutinized each living doll without
comment for a few moments.

Finally, she nodded, indicating that the
servant could seat her. Once she was set at the head of the table,
we girls scattered in the direction of our designated seating
assignments.

The table was long, able to accommodate
thirty persons and food enough for twice that many. The service was
laid out already. The power of we who were called Eliam’s Daughters
kept the flies and pests away from the abbey. In all my time here,
I had never seen a fly or a rat or any such creatures. Our spells,
though that is a terribly crude word for it, warded them away.

Mistress Evelyn allowed the servant to push
her and her chair up to the table. The rest of us, including our
matron, Hannah, seated ourselves five to a side. As the oldest, and
being the odd person out, I sat directly across from Hannah. We
were positioned closest to Evelyn in order that she might speak to
us if she so desired. It would be extremely unlikely that she would
have any want of talking to the younger girls; though she had
spoken on occasion to Celia.

The first course was served without
conversation. None of us dared to speak, unless a question was
directed to us from Mistress Evelyn or Hannah. A broth was ladled
out into the bowls set before each of us. Steam rose from my
spoonful in twisting curls as I brought it to my mouth. We did not
slurp. We did not gulp. Every mouthful was delivered with utmost
severity, as though we meant to smother all impropriety with
silence.

Anxiety levels were very high. Evelyn had
said nothing. I watched Celia and she watched me. Hannah was
watching all of us like a vulture perched in a tree, waiting for
its meal to stop wriggling. Celia and I had developed a way of
looking at one another without looking. I could see her in my
peripheral vision with what most would consider startling clarity.
All the while, our eyes appeared to be fixed upon distant
points.

We did not smile; not even once. Actually,
this part was pretty easy, since every person at the table was
wound as tightly as bowstring; every person except Mistress Evelyn.
She’s the one who had us on edge. For her part, she was the epitome
of elegance and grace. If she felt she had anything to say to us,
then evidently there was all the time in the world for us to wait
to hear it. She was royal; a Daughter of the Malkind. She waited
for no one.

It was during the dessert, after a grueling
five previous courses, that Mistress Evelyn finally addressed our
group. She did so without fanfare. There was no preamble, just the
shocking news.

“I have decided that Celia will accompany me
on my return journey to Rainier,” Evelyn said.

On her first syllable, every one of us girls
and Hannah stopped eating. We straightened and listened to every
word. When Celia’s name was mentioned, every girl at the table
opened their mouths in astonishment.

Evelyn continued unperturbed. “She will
become bond to my son, Nathan, since Raven has proven herself
unworthy.”

Hannah’s eyes were on me from across the
table. She knew how I felt about Celia. She was like a little
sister to me, the closest to family I had. Hannah likely expected
me to make some sort of outburst at Mistress Evelyn’s terrible
news, but I was no fool. The pain of my earlier punishment was
still fresh upon my skin.

Inside my mind, however, I was screaming long
and loud. How could the mistress do this to Celia? She was too
young for this. Her training was not complete. All these things and
more I wanted to say to the woman, but I knew better. She wouldn’t
have listened anyway.