The Crystal Heart (5 page)

It's not that I wasn't tired. I was exhausted. But every time I tried to close my eyes, a babble of voices spoke in my ears.
Why didn't you tell him about seeing him in your dreams? Why didn't you tell him that somehow you must be connected, soul to soul, and that is most likely the reason why he heard what he did?

I sat up and looked at the entrance to the hollow, where Kasper sat unmoving. He was hunched into his coat, with the collar turned up against the cold of the night. I crept closer to him and saw that his head had dropped onto his chest and his eyes were closed.
At least one of us can sleep
, I thought, smiling to myself.

Perhaps this was a sign. Perhaps I should flee. If I left, there might still be time for him to go back to the island without anyone connecting him to my disappearance. He could go back to his old life, safe in the knowledge that he'd helped me escape, and he wouldn't have to suffer for it. For suffer he would. If the situation were reversed,
I knew precisely what my people would do to one of us who helped an enemy in any way. And that was what I was, really. I was regarded as an enemy of his people, as he was of mine. Any connection between us was not only impossible, it was wrong.

And yet it was neither. And that was what made it so hard to walk away. Because if I did, if I disappeared into the night, I knew he wouldn't seize the opportunity to go back to the island unsuspected. He would come looking for me, afraid I'd get lost in that trackless wilderness. I knew that as clearly as if he'd said the words.

I knew, too, that it would be no good telling him that I wouldn't get lost, that I had enough of my father's blood in me to have that understanding of nature that is inborn in the children of Night. I could survive in the forest on my own if need be. Perhaps not as well as he could, with his learned knowledge, but enough to get by. Yet that wouldn't make any difference to what he'd do. After all, he hadn't let his fear of evil magic, nor the threat of getting caught doing the forbidden, stop him from entering the Tower. Reckless, I thought to myself, smiling a little, doesn't even begin to describe it.

I lay down on the moss again and closed my eyes. This time it wasn't voices but images that crowded in on me – Kasper straining at the oars, the two of us fleeing the Tower, the first moment I saw him, his hair black as a raven's wing, lips red as blood, skin pale as snow …

A tremble crept up my spine as I remembered my dream. It had foretold his coming. It had foretold I would not be alone. It had foretold the joy I would feel in his
company – a joy that, even in the midst of the danger we were in, I could not help feeling.

So I stayed.

When Kasper gently shook me awake, the pink and gold of dawn had cracked open the darkness, and dew lay upon the grass. ‘Good morning, Izolda,' he said with a shy smile.

I smiled and returned his greeting.

‘Did you sleep well?' he asked.

‘Oh yes. And you?'

‘Like a log.'

Sitting up, I saw that Kasper had been busy. He had made a fire, heated water in the pan he'd got from the pantry, and made buckwheat porridge, sweetened with dried fruit. And while I washed my face and hands in the stream to chase the drowsiness away, he brewed tea with the rest of the warm water and some fragrant leaves. But that was not the only surprise in store for me. When I came back from the stream, he bade me to sit down, handed me a mug of tea, put the food in front of me – a clean piece of bark serving as a dish – and took something out from his pocket: a rough but vivid carving of a squirrel, whittled on a piece of birchwood. ‘Happy birthday,' he said, handing it to me.

It was only then that I remembered it was the morning of my eighteenth birthday. The morning that was to have been my last on this earth, but was now the first of my new life. I struggled to control the tremble in my voice and the tears in my eyes. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much, Kasper.'

‘You are very welcome, Izolda,' he said quietly. Our eyes met for a moment and then, turning away, he added cheerfully, ‘Now, I know it isn't much of a birthday breakfast, but it will certainly get cold if we don't hurry up and eat it.'

I nodded and smiled, hurriedly taking a swig of tea to hide my emotion.

During my time in the Tower I had not been mistreated. I had been well fed, well dressed, cared for by a doctor when I was sick. I was given books, drawing materials, whatever I asked for. My room was warm, dry and well appointed. I hadn't even been deprived of beauty; from the Tower window I could see the sea in all its changing moods, and the little gardens on the island.

But what had that mattered when set against the bitterness of exile, the pain of understanding, over years of growing up in the Tower, that I'd never see anyone or anything I loved ever again? That all I had to look forward to was only more of the same lonely existence – until I learned that even that was to be denied me. To know, on the morning of my eighteenth birthday, that everything was now different – how could I ever repay him?

Straight after breakfast, we tamped down the fire and set off again. The path through the woods was narrow and we had to walk in single file. At first it was still rather dim but, as the day advanced, the light, filtering through the canopy of leaves, turned a soft gold-green.

It was quiet and still but every so often we heard the skittering of small animals. Once, a deer bounded across our path before crashing into the undergrowth on the other side. Kasper made us hurry along then. ‘In case something was chasing it and decides we are easier prey,' he explained. ‘A wolf or a bear, I mean, not a man,' he added, seeing my expression.

Wolf or bear – they didn't worry me as much as the thought of a human hunter, who might be tempted by the bounty Krainos was certain to put on our heads. Don't be foolish, I told myself as we kept going. Even if we did come across someone in the woods, the news of my disappearance would not have spread so fast. We were safe for the moment.

Touching the crystal heart with one hand, and with my other hand on the carving in my pocket, I murmured words that had not come to my mind for a very long time. Words that came from my deepest childhood – an ancient prayer of my people, asking for the protection of the Lady of the Rock. I hadn't prayed for such a long time, for all my prayers had seemed to go unanswered. The words welled up inside me, and as I spoke them, I felt the crystal begin to warm against my hand.

When the sun was high in the sky, we stopped for a rest and a drink beside a stream, and ate some more dried fruit. Then on we went, stopping only to gather some herbs Kasper found growing not far from the path.

‘I can make a meat stew with mushrooms and herbs tonight,' he said brightly. ‘And with dried fruit for dessert, we can have ourselves a feast. What do you say?'

I smiled. ‘I say it sounds perfect.'

He was in his element, that was plain. And when, in the late afternoon, we finally reached the place that was to be our refuge, the last of my doubts faded away.

The cottage itself was modest, even shabby, though it had a good roof. Though they were made of hotchpotch bits of wood, the walls looked strong. But what really made me catch my breath was the beauty of the spot where it stood, in a clearing by the side of a murmuring spring that gushed out from the rocks. The grass of the clearing was green and soft, with daisies and other little spring flowers dotted through it, and the great trees of the forest stood all around like giant benevolent guards, while a gnarled old plum tree leaning up near one wall of the cottage was covered in white blossom. The whole place had an air of peaceful, homely calm.

‘I know it's not much. But will it do?' The tone of Kasper's voice was tentative, and I realised he'd seen my expression and misinterpreted it.

‘It's – of course, it will do,' I said lamely. ‘I am very glad to be here.'

He seemed relieved. ‘Good. Shall we go in? You can have a look around.'

‘Oh, yes. I'm sure it will be fine, just fine,' I gabbled, following him into the house.

‘Careful of your head,' he said, and opened the creaking door. ‘The
domevoy
here can be a bit of a grumpy one. He's given me quite a crack before.'

From stories I'd read in my long imprisonment, I knew that
domevoys
were the elusive house-spirits of Krainos. There is one in each and every house, jealously guarding his or her territory. They rarely allow themselves to be seen by humans except in fleeting glimpses. And they choose where they live. Tellingly, there had been no
domevoy
in the Tower, though I'd longed for one to set up camp, just for the company. As I ducked my head under the low lintel and came into the main room, I thought happily that I'd be glad to share quarters with the
domevoy
of this place, grumpy or not.

I glanced around the room, taking in the rough-cut timber walls, the dusty floors and the basic furniture. There was a table, a bench, a small brick stove that needed whitewashing, some battered pots and pans and chipped dishes. In one corner, a tattered blanket partitioned off a corner of the room, which housed a narrow wooden bed with a faded patchwork quilt thrown over the mattress. The only decoration was an arrangement of dried flowers on another wall.

‘It's not much to look at, I know. But I promise you that, over the next few days, I will try to make it as cosy as a rough woodsman's cottage can possibly be. Meanwhile, tonight I'll make sure we have a roaring fire, a good dinner and that the bed will be made as comfortable as possible for you to sleep in.'

I glanced at him.

‘As to me, I'll sleep in front of the stove,' he went on, hurriedly. ‘Now, what else … We'll use water from the spring for washing and drinking – the best I've ever had – and there's an outhouse behind the cottage. Tomorrow I'll make some traps so that we can have fresh meat.'

‘Kasper, please don't worry,' I said quietly. ‘I may be a princess, but I've not lived in a palace for a long time. This house – I know we can make it cosy, and outside … outside is lovely. I like it here very much.'

His eyes lit up. ‘Really?'

‘Really,' I echoed. ‘So what would you say was the first task we have to tackle?'

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. ‘Gathering wood. But you don't have to do anything. You're high-born, so –'

‘Stop right there or you'll make me very cross,' I said firmly. ‘High-born or not high-born, if we are to stay here, I refuse to be idle. You know how to do a lot of things, and I do not, but I can learn if you'll teach me. Will you?'

His handsome face was alive with laughter, his brown eyes sparkling. ‘Yes, of course. Whatever you like, Izolda.'

‘Good,' I said sharply, trying to hide the fact that my heart was going so fast it felt like at any moment it might leap out of my chest.