Ash (21 page)

The pavilion was lit with hundreds of lanterns hanging from the wooden ribs that held the pavilion’s roof aloft: globes of light suspended in midair. Long, cushioned benches were set around the perimeters of the pavilion, and on the south end a trestle table was piled high with food for the guests, who were fil ing their plates with roasted meat and bread and steaming potatoes. Attendants carried pitchers of wine around the room, 177

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and on a smaller dais directly facing the entrance, musicians were playing.

Ash began to turn toward the buffet table, but Lore touched her arm and said, “No, come and sit with us.” They sat at one end of the King’s table with the other members of the Royal Hunt and were served roasted game hens and rabbit, dark bread and rich butter, charred roasted potatoes and carrots, sharp cheese and ripe, sweet green pears. “There will be venison,” said Lore, “just when you think you’ve eaten too much.”

When most of the dishes had been served, Kaisa left her place at the center of the table and came to sit with them, and Ash listened as they talked about the chase that day: which horses had done wel , whether the lymer’s oldest hound should be retired, their plans for this new season. Ash watched the huntress, who was gesturing with her left hand as she spoke, and the ring she wore a gold signet ring stamped with the seal of the Royal Hunt winked in the light. She glanced at Ash in mid-sentence and Ash quickly looked away, feeling overwhelmed by it al : Kaisa, the hunters, the banquet hal , the King and Queen, barely twenty feet away from her. She stared down at the gold leaves embroidered on the cuffs of her shirt, and they seemed almost alive, as if they might grow into sinuous vines and twine themselves up her arm, making her sleeves of glittering foliage. She closed her eyes, wil ing herself to be rooted there, in that chair, and she gripped the armrest until the pattern carved in it rose up to meet her fingers, solid and reassuring. When she looked up again, the hunters were talking of Prince Aidan’s recently announced quest for a bride, and Kaisa seemed just the smallest bit tired from the long day, 178

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and it was as ordinary as a royal feast could be.

After the venison, when the last of the food had final y been cleared away, Ash leaned back in her chair and wondered if she would ever be able to stand again. The musicians were playing a stately pavane, and she watched with heavy-lidded eyes as Prince Aidan and his brother descended from the dais to choose partners from among the young ladies fanning out before them like the brightly colored feathers of a peacock’s tail. Prince Aidan took the hand of a slight, golden-haired girl wearing a gown made of pale blue trimmed with black ribbons, and Prince Hugh chose a redhead in a black silk dress with diamonds at her throat. Then Kaisa left the dais, and as she began to make her way along the edge of the pavilion, she was met by a black-haired woman in a red dress, who put her hand on Kaisa’s arm and smiled at her. Kaisa stopped, and Ash watched as the huntress led the woman toward one of the cushioned benches where they sat down together, and the woman leaned toward the huntress, the light shining over the curve of her lips.

Lore, who was stil sitting at the table with Ash, said, “There are many who would cast themselves as the huntress’s lover.”

Ash looked at Lore, blinking slowly, for the wine made her feel as if she were walking through cobwebs. “What do you mean?” Ash asked.

Lore smiled at her almost pityingly. “I thought you were one of them,” Lore said.

Ash felt heat rise in her cheeks at Lore’s words and asked,

“Why would you think that?” She wondered uncomfortably if she had done something to suggest it. And if she had—did she 179

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feel that way? The idea was unsettling; it made her feel vulner-able.

Lore had opened her mouth to respond, but then one of the hunters appeared on the other side of the table and said,

“Lore, come and dance with me, wil you?” He saw Ash’s reddened face and added, “Unless you have other designs?”

Lore laughed at that and said, “I’l dance with you, Gregory.” She pushed her chair back and followed him down to the dance floor. Relieved to be free of that conversation, Ash watched Lore and Gregory bow to each other before they entered into the elaborate roundelay that was in progress, the ladies’ many-colored gowns spinning outward like blooming roses scattered over the ground. Toward the center of the pavilion she saw a woman dressed in bright pink, her hair woven with white ribbons, and when the gentleman she was dancing with spun her to face the dais, Ash realized the woman was her stepsister, Ana. Ash stiffened, but Ana had not seen her; al of her attention was focused on her dance partner, a middle-aged man with a balding head of graying hair. Ash looked around the perimeter of the pavilion until she found her stepmother and Clara seated on a bench on the far side of the dance floor.

They were watching Ana as wel , but Ash was too far away to see their expressions. She realized, when she looked around, that she was the only person remaining at the table; even the King and Queen were dancing. If she stayed, it was only a matter of time before her stepmother noticed her there. She knew, then, that she had to leave.

She stood up to go, and as she made her way toward the exit, skirting the borders of the dance floor, she saw the huntress 180

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in the crowd ahead of her. They came together amid the throngs of people dressed in crimson and purple and rich black velvet. “You look as if you are leaving,” said Kaisa, and those around them turned to look at whom the King’s Huntress spoke to.

“I am,” Ash answered, schooling her face into a blank expression so no one might read the tension within her. She worried that her stepmother would see her; she worried that Kaisa would somehow discern a new awareness in her, in the way she held herself, her body tilting slightly, self-consciously, away.

But Kaisa seemed merely disappointed. “You wil not stay?”

she asked. “There is much more dancing to be had.”

Ash shook her head. “I am sorry. I must leave.”

“Then let me walk you to your horse,” said Kaisa, and Ash nodded. They went together through the dancers then, and when they exited the pavilion the night felt cool and dry. There were few people outside, and the torchlit path leading past the marquees was almost deserted.

“You rode well today,” Kaisa said.

“Thank you for al owing me to come with you,” Ash said formally.

“You must join us again. We wil hunt tomorrow, and though the King and Queen wil return to the City, the hunt wil remain here for several weeks into the hunting season.”

“I will try,” Ash said.

They passed a couple walking back toward the pavilion arm in arm, the lady giggling as she held up her long skirts to avoid tripping over them on the uneven ground. When they were 181

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alone again Kaisa asked, “Is something wrong?”

She spoke lightly, as if Ash were a nervous sight hound who might be spooked by a more serious tone, and Ash managed to say, “No, of course not.” She wasn’t exactly tel ing the truth, but she wasn’t entirely lying, either, for she did not believe that
wrong
was an accurate description of her feelings. Per-plexed, yes; uncertain, yes; but beneath it al something as yet unnamed was coming into focus.

They turned off the main path toward the working area of the hunting camp where the horses were tethered, and Kaisa said, “I hope that you enjoyed yourself today.”

There was something in her voice that sounded the tiniest bit affronted, and Ash looked at the huntress and said quickly,

“Oh, I did I wil never forget today.”

The huntress let out her breath in a smal laugh, and she said, “I am glad.”

Afraid to let silence come up between them again, Ash asked clumsily, “You said you invited me—how long wil you hunt this season?”

“I am not sure yet,” Kaisa answered. “It wil depend on how successful we are in the next few weeks.”

They reached the smal er path leading toward the horses, and Kaisa stepped back to al ow Ash to go ahead of her, as if she were a lady. Ash almost stopped, confused and then she asked, to hide the quick rush of nerves in her belly, “Have have you ever lost a stag during a hunt?”

“Of course,” Kaisa said, following her onto the path, “but not for many seasons. The last one I lost he was a quick one.

He crossed the river and took a path I did not know existed. It 182

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led into a ravine deep in the forest, and we could not follow.”

“Why could you not follow him?”

“There were too many hunters with me that day. It would have been impossible for us all to follow. But later I did go back to that place, and it was so strange I found the path to the ravine; I know it was the right one because the branches had been broken by the stag’s passage. But I could not find the ravine. It was as if it had vanished, and I kept tracking the stag’s trail in circles until I gave up.”

“There is a story,” Ash said, “of a stag that runs into a valley, and of the huntress who followed it.” They had reached the horses by then, and Ash went to re-saddle Saerla, who turned her moonlight-colored nose toward them as they approached.

“What did she find?” asked Kaisa.

“The entrance to the val ey was hidden, but there was a secret entrance that was revealed only by the light of the ful moon, and one night the huntress was watching that very location and she saw the entrance revealed. So she went in.”

“What happened when she went in?”

“In the val ey there was a cave. Inside, it was like a palace made of gold, and the huntress walked down many richly appointed corridors before she came to what seemed to be a throne room. And on the throne was a woman dressed al in white, and she was incredibly beautiful, but she was also incredibly sad, because she had been cursed to spend her life locked in that cave, and the only time she could leave was as a stag.”

“What did the huntress do?” Kaisa asked.

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Ash finished buckling the saddle in place and said, “The woman asked the huntress to chase her down, as a stag, and to kil her. And then, she could final y be free.”

Kaisa asked, “Is that your favorite fairy tale?”

“No,” Ash said.

“I would still like to hear it,” Kaisa said quietly, and the expression on her face was indistinct in the dark.

“I am not sure, anymore, what my favorite is,” Ash said.

The horse nudged her shoulder as if to remind her that she had to leave. “I am sorry,” Ash said. “I must go.”

Kaisa seemed about to ask her a question, but she did not.

“Safe journey home, then,” she said, stepping out of the way as Ash mounted the horse.

“Good night,” Ash said, and Saerla turned toward the path that would lead away from the hunting camp.

“Good night,” said Kaisa, briefly bowing her head to her, and Ash was reminded, uncomfortably, of the bargain she had struck with Sidhean. It did not seem quite right to think of Sidhean and Kaisa at the same time—there was something disloyal about it. But though she tried to separate the two of them in her mind, she could not, for the bargain, she knew, included all three of them.

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Chapter XVI

sh dreamed that she was walking
through the Wood at midsummer, and when she looked up through the canopy of A leaves she felt the warmth and heat of the sun on her face. There was someone walking beside her, and she was not surprised to turn and see the huntress, who smiled at her and extended her hand, and Ash took it. Smal white flowers bloomed al around them, and as they walked the flowers became vines that climbed up the tree trunks until it was as if the trees were hung with blossoms made of snow. When they came to a stop, Ash saw that the path ended on the edge of a cliff, and before them was a ravine. She could not see the other side, but the white flowers continued to twine down over the edge of the ravine like a rope ladder, and the huntress squeezed her hand and said, “Shal we find that poor stag-princess?”

“Are you going to kil her?” Ash asked, and her voice 185

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sounded strange, as though she heard it from outside her body.

The huntress smiled and shook her head. “No, but you will.”

Ash awoke, gasping, and sat up in the dim morning light in her smal room behind the kitchen. There was a pounding on the front door, and from upstairs she heard a bel ringing.

Dazed, she threw off the covers and dragged herself out of bed, pul ing on her wrinkled dressing gown as she stumbled through the kitchen and front hal . Her stepmother was standing at the top of the stairs in the dim morning light and said crossly, “Why aren’t you awake? Someone is knocking on the door! Go and answer it.”

Blinking and bleary-eyed, Ash went to the front door and opened it, and the rising sun flooded into the hal , momentarily blinding her. A man was standing on the doorstep, holding out a sealed letter. “I apologize for the early hour, madam,” he said, “but we have many of these to deliver this morning.”

She took the letter he handed her and before she had a chance to reply, he bowed and retreated. She saw him mount a horse draped with the royal insignia and ride off, and then her stepmother cal ed from upstairs, “Close the door! You’re letting a draft in. Who was it?”

Ash shut the door and looked down at the letter, but the light was too dim to make out the details of the seal. She took it to the bottom of the stairs and showed it to her stepmother.

“They brought a letter,” she said.

Lady Isobel came downstairs and took it from her, handing Ash the candle to hold while she broke the seal. Ash watched her stepmother’s eyes widen as she read, and a triumphant 186