The Gifted Heart (Marks of Inheritance: The Orkeia Cycle #1)

11. Within the Castle Walls

Chapter eleven

Within the Castle Walls

A large iron gate stood open between two majestic stone towers. Dual flights of stairs led to the grand entrance beyond a courtyard buzzing with gardeners. Above the ornate door hung a beautiful stained glass window depicting a diving sea hawk. The architecture was magnificent, and the kingdom’s blue banners—also bearing the sea hawk—brought color and life to the stone walls. As I stared, servants passed in and out of the courtyard, dressed in the finest clothes I had ever seen.

“Are you coming?”

The king’s voice brought me back to myself. He stood outside the carriage, his hand outstretched. Dazed, I took it, digging my fingers into his palm to retain balance. Once my feet were firmly on the ground, he wrapped an arm around my waist again, almost protectively, supporting me as we moved slowly along the beautifully paved path. He didn’t attempt to rush me, allowing me to take my time to get to the steps and instructing the staring servants to return to their duties. I must have looked ridiculous, walking into the courtyard of the castle wearing a worn out, wet, torn dress under the king’s cloak. I can’t imagine what they would've thought if they knew what I really was.

As we climbed the left staircase, the large, heavy doors ground against the stone floor. Four knights stood at each door and bowed deeply to their king when we reached the landing. These men had more elaborate uniforms than those I’d seen in Lewin’s company. More guards lined the stairway inside, as well as the railing of a grand balcony, armed to protect their king. I pulled my eyes down from the dangling chandelier to see six maids standing directly in front of us, their hair up in tight, perfect braids.

“Show this young woman to quarters in the East Tower,” the king ordered. “Give her a bath, new clothes, and anything else she might require.”

All six ladies curtsied and stepped forward. I reached for the latch on the cloak I was wearing, but he gently placed his strong hand over mine.

“Keep it, Kenna,” he said kindly.

He smiled, and there was a warmth to his smile that filled me with a surprising amount of comfort. For a moment, I almost forgot how terrified I was supposed to be of him. I realized as we stood there that his hand was still on top of mine. His eyes were filled with concern and…something else that I couldn’t quite place. I took in a deep breath, my chest feeling tight.

At length, he tore his eyes from mine and turned to ascend the stairs to the throne room. As his entrance was announced, I glimpsed a gathering of people standing inside. The room fell silent the second he walked through the door. He must have been presiding over a trial—what probably should have been my trial.

The doors closed behind him and the attendants he had assigned to me led me down the hall. I followed them numbly, my eyes darting this way and that. It was impossible to take in every detail of every painting and sculpture we passed, but I still tried.

The maids brought me to an enormous room on the second floor. My eyes widened in wonder at the silk tapestries, the ornate gold furnishings, the elaborate portraits on the walls, and the rich rugs beneath my bare feet. I had never felt anything so soft, and I was suddenly self-conscious of how dirty I must be making them. An enormous wardrobe stood on the opposite side of the room, bursting with more colors and styles of dress than I’d ever seen. There were candles lit around the room as well, and I noticed that in addition to light, they gave off a pleasant, flowery smell.

As awe-struck as I was, everything else disappeared when I saw the bed. It was all I could do to stay awake long enough for a bath. If I'd been alone, I wouldn’t have thought twice about jumping into those sheets in my drenched, muddy clothing. It was hard to remind myself that I was in the home of someone who wanted me dead, and that I couldn't afford to let my guard down.

When my bath arrived, the maids turned to give me privacy. I undressed and lowered myself into the warm water, gasping. I’d never had a hot bath before. It was the most wonderful feeling, especially after two winter days in that dungeon.

“If you need anything, M’Lady,” one of the maids said, her face pleasant, “just pull that rope there next to the bed.”

“Thank you.” I gave her an awkward smile. She smiled back, and curtsied before she and the rest of my attendants left the room.

When the door shut, I lifted my right leg just above the surface of the water and slowly traced the mark on my skin, watching the water roll down my leg. Years ago I’d accepted that I would probably never know what it meant or why it was placed where it was, but curiosity returned as I sat there, a witch in the king’s castle. Maybe my suspicions about some sort of destiny had been right after all—maybe the Giftgiver had known I would find myself in the castle one way or another and it would need to stay hidden.

Whatever the answer, I closed my eyes reverently and poured out my soul to Him, thanking Him for sending Isaiah to my rescue, and for keeping my identity a secret from the knights and the king. No matter how many times I’d wished for death in that dungeon, I was glad to be alive.

I briefly dozed off, but woke up shivering in the cooled water. Feeling cleaner than I'd ever been, I climbed sopping wet out of the bath. A beautiful, green velvet robe lay on my bed, and I wrapped it around me, amazed at how soft it was against my skin. As I climbed into the bed, there was a light knock on my door. The same six maids entered to clean up the bath, but I hardly noticed them. I’d never been in a bed like this, only the stone ones the Grisons padded down for comfort. But this— this was the most amazing feeling I could imagine! The closest thing I I had felt to it was laying on a soft bed of grass, but it was hardly a worthy comparison.

Before any of the maids could ask if I wanted anything else, I was fast asleep.

** *

I dreamt I was in the middle of a field, my spirit hovering above my limp body. As I watched, Neal rushed out from behind the hills and tenderly took my body in his arms. “Please come back, Kenna,” he whispered desperately. Tears came to my eyes as I watched him run his fingers through my hair, but for some reason I couldn’t return to my body.

Suddenly, he disappeared, and Gideon took his place. He laid my head in his lap as the knights approached from all directions, led by their king on horseback. Gid closed his eyes and stretched out his hands, creating a moat around us. The concentration in his face deepened and his hands shook as he increased the size of the obstacle, making it impossible for the knights to cross. King Kiernan dismounted and walked to the edge of the water, drawing his sword.

“Hand her over.”

Gideon’s blue eyes glared at him with a harshness completely alien to them. “Never,” he said.

King Kiernan’s grip on his sword tightened, but he didn’t attempt to cross the moat. Instead, he lifted the sword into the air and pointed toward us.

“Shoot him.”

I screamed silently as hundreds of arrows flew at Gideon. He cried out and collapsed to the ground, his blood staining the green grass red. My spirit snapped back into my body and I pulled him into my arms.

“MONSTER!” I screeched, tears staining my face as I turned toward the man who had killed my best friend.

His lips curved upward wickedly. “So you are one of them.”

Chilling my bones with his laughter, he mounted his horse.

“What are you waiting for? Shoot her!”

I squeezed my eyes shut as a hundred bow strings were pulled back .

When I opened them, I sat upright in my bed, sweating and panting heavily. A nightgown was laid out at the foot of my bed. In the dim light of the moon, I changed and sat on the edge of the bed, still shaking.

I stared ahead in the darkness. Despite how long I had dreamt of infiltrating the castle, now, I wanted to run as far away as possible. At the same time, another part of me wanted to find the king’s quarters now and kill him as he slept.

But no matter how many times I had wished for his death, I’d never be able to go through with it. And as hard as it was to admit, how that I'd actually met him, he was nothing like the horrible, ruthless monster I’d imagined. He was kind and seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being. While I knew that his demeanor would change if he knew the truth about my Gift, it was hard to imagine the man in my dream and the man who’d pulled me from the dungeon could be the same person.

And then there was Isaiah. I couldn’t leave without speaking to him. I needed answers.

It was dark outside, but I’d slept as long as my body was going to let me. Right as I decided to stand up, a long, rattling breathing sound came from the side of my bed. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck and I clutched the blanket, turning my head towards the sound.

A shadow hovered there, the shadow of a man. The evil emanating from the figure seized my throat. In a rush of panic, I threw my blankets into what I thought was his face and lunged for the candle on the other side of the bed. My fingers fumbled with the match, my breath coming out in gasps. With the candle finally lit, I spun around.

There was no one there.

Shaking, I pulled the rope next to the bed, my eyes lingering fearfully on where the figure had been. It didn’t feel like any spirit I’d sensed before, but I couldn’t come up with another logical reason for its quick disappearance. Could it have been a malevolent spirit that somehow escaped from the Land of the Lost ?

A soft knock jerked me out of my thoughts. The same maid who spoke to me the day before opened the door, a kind smile on her round face as she suppressed a yawn.

“You rang, M’Lady?”

My words came out in slow, staggered breaths. “Are there any other ways in and out of this room? Aside from that door?”

She eyed me curiously. “No. Might I ask why?”

I bit my lip. “I just had a bad dream. I’m sorry for disturbing your rest.”

“Twas no disturbance, M’Lady,” she said with another smile. “Anything else I can do for you?”

I was about to say that I was fine when my stomach rumbled loudly, and painfully for that matter. The maid smiled again, not waiting for me to speak. “I’ll fetch you something to eat,” she said with a bit of a chuckle, hurrying out of the room.

The sun rose as I waited for her to return. My eyes continually darted to where I’d seen the shadow. She returned with a platter of fruit, and my stomach rumbled again. She hid an amused smile as I devoured everything in front of me. I bit into a juicy apple, closing my eyes to relish the sweet taste.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring more, M’Lady,” the maid said, “but the king has requested your presence at his breakfast table, and I didn’t want you to eat too much beforehand.”

I almost dropped the apple. She no doubt attributed my reaction to the shock and awe of the king’s hospitality and concern, but as hungry as I was, the thought of sitting civilly and having breakfast with this murderer made my stomach turn.

Just play along.

“Oh—of course,” I breathed with a small nod.

As I ate, the maid opened the wardrobe, searching through the gowns. After a few minutes of silent debate with herself, she picked an emerald green one with gold accents, laid it on the bed, and pulled the cord to summon more maids.

The last grape was barely in my mouth when the door swung open and I was swarmed. The maids gave me some privacy as I pulled the dress on, enough that I was able to hide my mark, but no sooner had I put my arms through the sleeves than they were lacing up the back and fussing with my hair. I had to be presentable for their king. I did my best not to scream at them as they pulled my hair and pinched my cheeks, but I'm afraid I did let out a few involuntary sounds of protest. They pretended not to notice.

When the six pairs of hands finally stopped poking and prodding me, the maid who’d been helping me all morning turned me to face the mirror. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The person staring back at me was a complete stranger, a lady in the king’s royal court. Her brown curls were pulled up, expertly controlled in an elaborate style. My hair could never be controlled, and I did not have the figure the woman facing me did. With the dress hugging her body elegantly, she looked more like Helen than any version of myself. It was all I could do to take my eyes off the disturbing image and follow my attendants out of the room, back through the endless halls.

Time seemed to pass faster than normal, and soon I stood in front of a large set of doors. One of the maids knocked. I tried to appear pleasant and even managed a small smile to aid in my facade. The door opened and the king and his captains came into view.

“Ah, there you are!” King Kiernan said, standing. The other men at the table followed his example, though the surprise and confusion on their faces was evident. I recognized the two men who guarded me as we traveled and Lewin himself, his perpetual frown directed toward me from the moment I entered the hall. I averted my eyes and stared at the uncomfortable shoes on my feet, trying to hide my fear.

One of the maids passed me and pulled out a chair. I felt a slight relief from my panic when I saw Isaiah standing next to my seat. I joined him, wishing we were alone and not surrounded by these monsters. As soon as I sat, the men took their seats once more, the majority of them averting their gaze. The king and his captain of the guard, however, continued to stare at me. I stared at my plate in response.

“I trust you slept well?” the king inquired .

“I slept very well…Your Majesty.”

I glanced up and our eyes met for a moment. His, which I had deemed emotionless just the day before, were shining.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said. “Now, enough conversation—you must be starved.”

He clapped his hands, and servants immediately entered from the opposite end of the room. They filled the table with freshly baked bread, hot soup, more fresh fruit, eggs, and some meat I didn’t recognize. I almost forgot how uncomfortable I was at seeing the food, and I struggled to eat politely rather than shovel the food into my mouth as quickly as possible.

The meal passed in silence on my part. Occasionally I met Isaiah’s gaze, and he sent me an encouraging smile. I searched for answers on his face, but I knew I wasn’t going to get them until we could speak in private.

The conversation was uninteresting until halfway through the meal. The younger of my two guards mentioned preparing ships for departure, and the king set down his fork.

“When will they be ready, Captain Stole?”

“Within the next few hours, Your Majesty,” Stole said. He appeared to be the youngest captain present, but he was still quite a bit older than the king. “We are ensuring we have all the necessary supplies and precautions in place for your voyage.”

Kiernan glimpsed the surprise on my face and turned. “I will be leaving with my captains for a short while, Kenna. I’ve decided to join them on their patrol of the isle of Fain. I trust you will be safe in your uncle’s hands while I’m gone.”

I nodded, biting the inside of my lip to hide my excitement. If the king was leaving, I would get the chance to ask Isaiah my questions. Perhaps I would even be able to escape and find the Grisons. I resolved to search for them in spirit that night and try to let them know I was alive, though it was hard to communicate with mortals while in spirit form.

It seemed an eternity before the king finished eating. The rest of us stood as he left the room. Our eyes met once more, and his seemed to be searching mine. I searched his as well, trying to figure out this mystery of a man. How could someone that appeared so kind be the one waging war against my people? How could this be the face of the bloodthirsty king I’d been imagining for years?

The captains dispersed to prepare for their voyage, but Isaiah did not follow them. Instead, he put a strong, gentle hand on my shoulder and led me back to my room, telling my maids he would escort me and they could attend to their other duties. None of them questioned him. We walked the halls in silence, and only when my door was securely closed behind us did he speak.

“Which question should I answer first?”

If I tried to sort through them and decide which to ask when, this conversation would never end, so I blurted out the first one that came to my mind.

“Are you really my uncle?”

Isaiah ran his hand through his hair. “No, Kenna. I’m not your uncle.”

“Then who are you?” I breathed.

He took my hand. I stared into his gray eyes, a familiar ring of blue on the outer edges of the pupils. I searched my memory for where I’d seen those eyes before. With a shock I realized the memory was of my own reflection. My eyes widened in recognition before he spoke the words aloud.

“I’m your father.”