Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) (6 page)

Once Anna was satisfied the fire was to her liking, she turned back to study me, paying particular attention to my eyes. Could she tell I'd been crying? She caught herself and glanced down, dropping into a curtsy. "I'll be down in the servants' quarters if you need anything else, your highness. Just pull the ribbon beside your bed." She smiled and left, and the door latched behind her.

And I was alone again.

I made my way over to the tray before my lonely thoughts could attack me again. Isla's note sat there glaring at me, and I couldn't help but wonder if she'd woven some curse into each curve of the letters to my name. I turned my attention away from the glaring letter and to the cup of…well, I wasn't sure what it was. It didn't smell like hot tea. It sort of smelled like that awful Pom Ale Stefan had given me once, back when I'd first arrived at the castle. Rhea would always change it to coffee for me.

Rhea. Who knew she'd turn out to be Mistress Astaire Dothrai, powerful sorceress and Thad's mother? I'd always been impressed a servant knew enough magic to transform ale to coffee, but now I knew better. No wonder she didn't want me telling anyone. Like everyone else, she'd capitalized on my ignorance and gained my trust in the process.

What I would give for a cup of hot coffee. Maybe when this was all over, I could start a Starbucks franchise on Gaia, and it would absolutely serve peppermint mochas year round.

I took a sip and immediately spit it back out. It
was
that awful Pom Ale, but hot. What was it with these people and drinks that tasted like battery acid? I set the cup back down on its plate and poked around the assortment of cakes and breads and fruits and…something that looked like a bowl of (red) grits. I sat down in the chair and picked my way around the tray, taste-testing all of the items until I found a dense scone that tasted like heaven. There were little crimson (of course) berries in it that reminded me of cranberries, but these were sweeter, and the dough was soft and sticky and warm. So sticky, in fact, it was difficult peeling it off the roof of my mouth. I
almost
took a sip of the hot Pom Ale to wash it down, but I wasn't that desperate.

I felt Isla's letter watching me out of the corner of my eye. With a grunt, I picked up the small envelope and stared at my name written across the front. Her handwriting was bold and pretentious, just like she was, and I didn't like the idea of her writing my name. It felt like sacrilege—as if my name had been defiled, somehow.

"What could you possibly want from me this morning?" I said aloud, holding the envelope between my thumb and forefinger. I'd half a mind to chuck it in the fire, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I slid my finger beneath the red wax seal, pulled out the letter, and unfolded the single crease.

Your Highness ~

It was a wonderful surprise seeing you last night, if only for a few moments.

Surprise? Yes. Wonderful? Someone should've handed you a mirror last night.

It's unfortunate I haven't had the pleasure of your company more, for I would so like to get to know you better. I understand that his lordship is preoccupied for much of the day, so I thought to inquire if I might accompany you in his absence.
I would be honored by your company and conversation, and for the opportunity to further acquaint myself with such an intriguing woman, let alone my regent and superior.

I snorted.

If you find you do have a few precious moments to spare within your exceedingly busy schedule, I'll be in the drawing room for the next few hours where you may find me.

I'd just as soon stab myself with a paintbrush.

Your admiring and devoted servant,

As always,

Lady Isla Justine of Campagna

I rolled my eyes and threw the paper at the fire, like I should've done in the first place. I was probably getting cursed this very moment. Could a person really be cursed from reading a letter? The fire popped and crackled while the paper charred and curled in on itself, until it finally disintegrated into ash. Had Danton told her yet? Not that it mattered, really. Any attention from her was dangerous.

I pushed myself up from the chair. I needed to move so I could think. Anna had said Danton had been tied up with his father all morning. What could be taking so long? Maybe Lord Pontefract had changed his mind and no longer saw me as a tool to further his political standing. If that were true, the fact that Danton had been with him all morning could only mean he was arguing in my favor. Right?

I rubbed my temples with a groan. I needed to be there with Danton and his father discussing how and when Orindor's soldiers would leave. We were at war, but it was the waiting that just might kill me.

"Please, Stefan, just hang on a little longer…" I said.

I couldn't stay in my room. At this rate, I'd wear a path in the rug I was pacing. I stopped pacing. Visiting Isla was out of the question. My thoughts were torment enough without her words of bottled poison. No doubt she'd only want to find leverage to use against me later.

I marched over to the wardrobe and opened the doors. It was huge and deep and filled with so many fabrics I couldn't even see the back panel. It reminded me of the Chronicles of Narnia, and since I was already in some twisted version of Narnia, I wondered if I could walk through the back of this wardrobe and end up on Earth. And then I remembered I had nothing on Earth to go back to, save Cadence. Assuming he was still there. I ran my fingertips over the various textures of fabric until I came across a pair of pants and a blouse, meant for riding. There was even a pair of burgundy leather riding boots standing on the floor of the wardrobe.

Perfect.

Within a few minutes, I'd replaced my nightgown with the riding ensemble and strapped my dagger just inside my boot. Danton's cousin must have been a little taller than me, and much curvier, but these would work. I walked to my bathroom and splashed some water across my face. My eyes were still puffy, but hopefully that would fade before Danton found me. I tamed my unruly hair into one long braid and snagged a cloak from inside the wardrobe—just in case, because I had no idea where I would be wandering off to—then took one quick glance about my room and stepped out into the hall.

The hallway was brighter than it had been last night, and busier. A servant smiled as he hurried past with a tray of used dishes.

"Good morning, your highness," he said with a slight bow of his head.

Had Danton already alerted his entire staff I was here? I smiled. "Good morning."

He hurried off around the corner just as another servant appeared. This one had a beaded silver gown draped over one arm.

"Morning, your highness." She smiled.

Okay, maybe he
had
told everyone. I decided this was a good sign, especially since the servants were smiling. I wasn't sure where I should go, though. Danton had spared me the midnight tour and led me straight from the garden to my room last night. Fresh air sounded nice, even though the view from my window warned it would rain any minute. I almost decided to chance it, but my feet seemed to have other ideas and led me in the opposite direction. Danton had promised me a tour this morning, but being that he was preoccupied, I'd give myself one. And besides: Anna had made it sound as if I could go anywhere I pleased. I thought this a good opportunity to study the home of my future spouse and in-laws. Who knew what I might find out about the Pontefracts in the process?

As it turned out, I didn't find out much. The estate sprawled in a maze of long hallways and short stairs, and it was like walking through the Natural History Museum—everything was off-limits. Most of the doors were locked, and those that weren't were flanked by intimidating looking men wearing blacks and reds, adorned in shiny swords. At the start of my solo tour, I approached a pair guarding one such door, and before I could even ask, they crossed their shiny swords before the door.

I smiled and said, "Excuse me, sirs, but Lord Danton said I could give myself a tour this morning."

"I'm sorry, your highness," one of the men said in a very nasally voice—the annoying sort that made you wince, "but you will have to restrict your wanderings to the halls. This room is off-limits, per order of Lord Pontefract."

"Even for me?" I asked.

"Especially for you, your highness."

I didn't like that response, but I left, and the halls didn't prove to be any better. On both sides, standing a few feet from the walls themselves, were fences of brass poles with velvety red rope strung in between, posing an elegant barrier between the portraits hanging along the walls and me, so I was forced to observe them from the center of the hallway. So maybe I
had
learned a little something about Lord Commodus Pontefract: He didn't like people touching his things.

After a while, I gave up and went outside to the gardens. It was colder today than it had been last night, and I slipped into my cloak, my breath clouding as I walked. The sky was dark and the air smelled like rain. I didn't know how long I'd be able to wander out here before the sky unleashed its fury, but being outside was better than being in Lord Commodus Pontefract's shrine of untouchables.

My boots crunched on the gravel path leading into the gardens. The foliage here was plump and rich green, and left unattended it wouldn't take long for this meticulously manicured garden to denature into a tangle of overgrowth and weeds. Nothing was in bloom this time of year, but the garden remained fragrant with balsam and something like peppermint. A soft breeze whispered past, fluttering my cloak behind me, and my gravel trail turned into a thread of damp, rich earth that wove through the hedges. From my brief walk with Danton last night, and with a little help from the view from my bedroom window, I knew the garden was circular and all the notches led to the middle. I meandered through the hedges, passing a few gardeners along the way who were pruning the hedges with enormous shears.

I reached the inner circle, walked to one of the stone benches, and sat down, relishing the fresh air. From where I sat, I could just see the second story of the Pontefract estate, all gloom and doom and spires in its Gothic glory. A little to my right was my bedroom window, reflecting the dark sky beyond. I rested the flats of my palms behind me, gripped the edge of the bench, and leaned back on my arms. It was peaceful and quiet here, even with the occasional snip-snip-snipping of pruning shears, and there was a somber quality to the air my spirit took comfort in.

The wind stroked my cheeks and loosed a few strands of hair free from my braid.

I will come for you soon
, a voice said in my mind, startling me. It was that deep and timeless voice I'd thought was Cian, the wind elemental, but now, after all that'd happened with the dragons, I wasn't so sure anymore.

I was about to ask "Who are you?" and "When is soon?" but then I remembered I'd heard the voice in my head, and I didn't think it would be a good idea for any of the gardeners to catch the princess of Gaia—Danton's soon-to-be betrothed—talking to herself. The wind rustled through the hedges, but the voice didn't speak again.

My thoughts wandered back to Alex. What was he doing? Was he still in Karth? Or had he left the city? What would he do now? Probably set sail for the shores of Campagna with Sir Torren and his men. I wished I were there with him. I wanted to be there with him so badly, working beside him. Working together like we'd always done when we were little. Sometimes I still couldn't believe I hadn't realized I'd loved him back then, especially when it was so obvious to me now.

Like that time—what, was it four years ago? Sonya had phoned saying Alex had been in a bad riding accident. He'd been put in ICU but his condition was stable and we shouldn't worry—she'd just wanted to let us know. I'd had the car backing out of the driveway within minutes, with my dad running out the door yelling at me. I was only fourteen, so I didn't have a driving permit or anything like that. Minor, irrelevant detail. Alex was hurt and I was going to see him—it was that simple. And then I was going to beat Jinx's hind for hurting him. I knew it was Jinx's fault. Alex had recently bought the thoroughbred, and he'd been breaking Jinx in, but it'd been difficult. Jinx was about as docile as a wild bull with a flag waving in front of its eyes.

Since I wasn't getting out of the driver's seat without a slew of cross-your-hearts from my father, he soon succumbed to driving me three hours to the hospital where Alex was being kept. By the time we got there, Alex was no longer in ICU. They'd wheeled him to a double room he had to share with a very old man who snored like a bear. My dad stood in the hall with Sonya, but I could still see Alex lying on the bed with his foot in a cast, elevated in a sling hanging from the ceiling. There was a wrap around his temple, too, which made his dark hair stand straight up like he'd been electrocuted, and there was a nasty bruise on his left cheekbone, as well as a mesh of cuts on his cheeks and forearms. When he saw me standing in the threshold of his room, he grinned. It was a lopsided grin, because his bottom lip was swollen on one side, but his sentiment was undeniable—he was proud of his current incapacitation.

Men.

I'd rolled my eyes. "Oh, stop beaming, you idiot," I'd said, walking toward the edge of his bed. Alex's gaze followed me all the way, bright and alive.

"Hey," he'd said. "Good to see you too."

"You're lucky you
can
see me." I'd touched the bandage on his forehead before sitting on the edge of his bed, careful not to move the mattress too much, and I looked over the rest of him with a frown. "Do I want to know?"

Alex had looked away, suddenly interested in the pulley-system supporting his bum leg.

I knew it.

Angry, I whacked his cast.

He lunged for his cast. "Geeze, Daria!"