Sometime during the night, Céline’s numbness began to wear off, and the cold night air began cutting through her dress.
She realized she had nothing left but the dress on her back, not even her cloak.
But Pavel must have felt her shivering because he stopped his horse long enough to pull his own cloak around them both. “Hold it closed with your hand,” he said.
For some reason, this small act of kindness moved her, and feeling warmer, a few moments later, she let herself lean back against him and closed her eyes.
The horse moved on at a steady pace through the wet woods.
The next thing she remembered was the sound of Jaromir’s voice saying, “All right, it’s light enough. Wake her up.”
She opened her eyes again and realized it was past dawn the next morning. Her first thought was of Amelie, and she cast about quickly to see her sister, wide-awake, sporting a dark bruise on her jaw, still sitting in front of Jaromir with her hands tied.
But Amelie’s eyes looked like thunder, and Céline feared what she might do to Jaromir once her hands were free. The sisters locked eyes, and Céline tried to offer a short shake of her head, hoping Amelie understood. Although nothing was certain, these two men had at least behaved like protectors throughout the night.
But then Céline looked up beyond Amelie and nearly gasped. “Where are we?”
Pavel answered in her ear. “Home. Castle Sèone.”
The sight was impressive. A moat the size of a river surrounded an enormous hill, almost a small mountain. Not far from where Céline was sitting, she could see a gatehouse with a closed portcullis at the end of a retractable bridge across the moat. A wall with numerous barbicans stretched from both sides of the gate all the way around the area at the bottom of the hill.
But she could see that on the other side of the gatehouse was a road leading about halfway up the hill to yet another gatehouse set against another stone wall that encircled the hill at that point. At the top of the hill stood a castle.
This place would be difficult to breach.
A creaking sound reached her ears, and then Jaromir said, “They’re opening the portcullis. We should head inside now.”
“In there?” Céline asked in alarm. The place had seemed impenetrable a second ago; once inside, how would she and Amelie ever get out again?
Without warning, Amelie rammed her head back and caught Jaromir hard on the chin, making him grunt with pain. She whipped one leg over the front of the saddle and tried leaping off, but he caught her and jerked her up against himself.
“Quit!” he ordered, sounding more annoyed than angry, and with her hands tied, she could do little more than struggle.
His chin was bleeding.
“My lord will just want to talk to you,” he said. “He only wants to know what his brother is up to. Then you’ll be free to go.” He paused. “If you have anyplace to go.”
Amelie stopped fighting him, but her face was still dark with rage.
“Good,” he said, and he jumped off the horse, looking up at her. “I’m going to free your hands so we don’t look like we’re walking in with prisoners, but you’d better keep still and do what I say.” Taking a knife from his belt, he looked at her and said, “You try to kick me or pull that dagger, and you’ll regret it.”
“She won’t,” Céline said quickly. “Amelie, tell him you won’t.”
It was possible Jaromir was telling the truth, that this Prince Anton simply wanted to know what was happening with his brother’s impending nuptials, and he’d let them go once they’d told him everything they knew. Céline just hoped that Anton did not have much in common with his brother. His men were certainly nothing like Damek’s.
Amelie just glared at her and then held out both hands. Jaromir cut her bonds, but he seemed ready for anything, watching her carefully.
“Amelie!” Céline said again. “We’ll just go in and speak to their prince. Then we’ll go…” She trailed off and the rage in Amelie’s eyes faded. Where exactly would they go?
Pavel jumped off from behind her and landed on the ground.
Before Céline knew what was happening, he began leading his horse across the bridge to the first gatehouse, but Jaromir took the lead. Two soldiers in tan tabards standing inside the open portcullis came to attention at the sight of Jaromir.
“Sir,” they said politely, almost reverently.
Jaromir just nodded and led Amelie past them, through the gatehouse tunnel and out the other side. Céline began to suspect that Jaromir was more than just a lieutenant in the prince’s guard. But she had no time to wonder as they all headed up the road toward the second gatehouse.
As they reached it, the guards up there treated Jaromir with the same respectful deference, and Céline found herself being led through the second gatehouse to the inside of the high stone wall…
And there, even Amelie looked around in surprise.
They entered what appeared to be a thriving town built all around the castle above. People and animals and dwellings of all sorts stretched out as far as Céline could see. A smithy and a tannery stood just ahead. Cobblers, weavers, candle makers, bakers, and butchers hawked their wares. But more than that, Céline saw a vast number of what looked like homes to her left, and all the people looked well fed.
“They all live here inside the castle wall?” Amelie asked in shock, gripping the horse’s mane. This was the first thing she’d said since last night, and Jaromir glanced up at her. “Of course. It’s safest here inside the wall.”
This seemed like a given to him, but to Céline it was not. Sub-Prince Damek lived quite differently. From what she understood, only his soldiers, his mistresses, his servants, and a number of minor nobles all currying his favor populated his home.
This Castle Sèone was more like a bustling town.
Jaromir kept moving onward and upward though the people and the shops and dwellings until they reached another bridge, this one shorter and leading across a gap to a huge wooden doorway at the front of the castle. It was unguarded, but Céline noted a pulley system on the other side that would allow the bridge to be raised, thus cutting off access to the castle.
“Here we are,” Jaromir said, stopping at the beginning of the bridge and reaching his hand up to Amelie. “Hop down.”
She ignored his hand and climbed off by herself. Céline admired her spirit, but when Pavel moved to help her down, Céline let him, and then she grabbed the stirrup to hold herself when her legs nearly gave way. She’d never in her life spent a whole night on the back of a horse. She was going to be sore for days.
“You all right?” Jaromir asked her, frowning.
“I’m fine,” she answered, trying to straighten, and walking as quickly as she could to Amelie’s side.
They crossed the bridge and entered the walled courtyard of the castle. Jaromir and Pavel were still leading their horses, but a boy appeared from nowhere to take their reins.
“Be generous with the grain,” Jaromir told him. “They’ve both been going all night.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy answered, leading the horses away.
Then Jaromir and Pavel strode across the courtyard—leaving Céline and Amelie little choice but to follow. They moved through a large entryway inside the castle itself, down a stone passage, and emerged into what appeared to be a great common dining hall. An enormous burning hearth had been built in the wall directly across from the arched entrance. Servants and a few soldiers in tan tabards were milling around, but everyone came to attention when Jaromir walked in. The hall seemed alive with dogs as well, spaniels, bloodhounds, and wolfhounds. A wolfhound with a smattering of white on its muzzle had been lying by the fire, but it scrambled stiffly to its feet and attempted to run to Jaromir.
“Lizzie,” he said when the dog reached him. “You’re getting too old to run.” He stroked her face while she continued to express great joy at his return by licking his hands.
Then he glanced at a servant carrying a tray and said, “Go and tell my lord I’m back, and that I brought the seer with me.”
The servant set down the tray and hurried off.
Céline couldn’t help wondering what it must be like to just give orders and have everyone run to do her bidding. She didn’t think she would particularly like it.
Still petting the dog, Jaromir turned to Pavel. “You’re dismissed. Go and find yourself something to eat.”
As Pavel headed off, Jaromir walked over to a side table and poured two goblets of wine. The dog followed at his heels. Carrying the goblets back, he held one out to Amelie. “Here.”
She didn’t touch it.
“Oh, just take it,” he said. “You haven’t had anything all night. I’ll arrange breakfast as soon as I can.”
Céline reached out and took the other goblet. She hated depending on him, but it was looking more and more like he was in control here, and her own normal sense of survival was beginning to surface. “Thank you,” she said.
He didn’t answer her and just raised one eyebrow at Amelie, who finally reached out and took the goblet. “Thank you,” she said, but her tone hardly suggested thanks.
To Céline’s surprise, Jaromir flashed a grin, as if he found Amelie amusing. That was never a wise move.
But before Amelie could do anything stupid—like toss the wine in his face—the people around them began to bow, and Céline turned to see a young man in a burgundy tunic walking into the hall.
“My lord,” Jaromir said, bowing slightly.
But Céline froze as the young man met her gaze. She knew him, and she could see that he remembered her, although his eyes flickered as if he was somewhat taken aback by the sight of her. He hadn’t seen her since she was fifteen, and she had changed a bit. So had he. He was still pale, with brown hair tucked behind his ears, but now he had circles under his eyes. Without the circles, he would have been handsome.
He’d been her first patron five years before, and he’d asked her to help him decide if he should marry a girl he loved named Joselyn or a wealthy girl named…
Rhiannon.
Céline fought to keep her face still as the past and present collided. Damek and Anton were brothers, and Rhiannon’s father had first tried to marry her to Anton, and he had refused in order to marry a penniless girl. What a blow that must have been to Rhiannon. Then her father had tried again five years later to marry her to Damek, and now Rhiannon was refusing the marriage. No wonder she’d been so worried about how her father would react.
Jaromir walked to Prince Anton quickly and leaned over, whispering in his ear. Anton’s dark eyes widened as he glanced at the sisters.
“Burned?” he mouthed.
Jaromir kept speaking in his lord’s ear, and Céline began growing nervous. What was he saying?
“What do you think this is really all about?” Amelie whispered.
“I’m not sure. But I think we have to play along.” She choked once. “I’m so sorry about the shop.”
“Why? You didn’t burn it down.”
But Céline could hear the cold anger in her sister’s voice and hoped Amelie could hold herself together just a little longer. Amelie might not be angry with Céline, but she was angry and feeling trapped and needed an outlet.
Prince Anton turned from Jaromir and looked at Céline. “In there,” he said, pointing to a small side chamber. “I would speak with you alone.” His tone was haughty, as if he never expected anything but obedience.
“No,” Amelie said flatly.
“It’s all right,” Céline said. “Truly.”
Before Amelie could argue, Céline walked into the side room and found that she wasn’t even nervous when Anton walked in behind her and closed the door.
Prince he might be, but for some reason, even after all she’d been through since last night, she wasn’t afraid of him.
“Why did my brother try to kill you?” he asked.
This was not the first question she expected, and she looked at their surroundings. The room was small indeed, with a single table, two chairs, and no window. Several candles glowed from the table.
Anton was looking at her red dress. “Why?” he repeated. “Jaromir says you spoke to Lady Rhiannon? What did you say to her? And why did Madam Zelinka and Captain Kochè visit you that morning?’
So he knew some of the story already. She wondered how much.
Sighing, she realized she’d gain nothing by holding information back. “Madam Zelinka paid me three pieces of silver to read Lady Rhiannon’s future and tell her that she’d be happy with your brother and to consent to the wedding. I agreed. I feared what might happen to me and my sister if I did not.”
He shook his head, puzzled.
“I found that I could not keep my word…after I saw her future,” Céline went on.
“He had her falsely accused of adultery and then strangled. I could not counsel her to marry him after seeing that.”
Anton flinched and sank down into a chair. “Poor Rhiannon,” he said softly. “Her father won’t understand.”
Really, this was not at all what Céline would have expected from Damek’s brother. Anton seemed almost softhearted. But he certainly voiced no doubts that his brother was capable of murder.
Then his eyes narrowed, almost in anger. “You’re speaking the truth to me? You really are a seer?”
This was shaky ground. The first time she’d spoken to him, she’d had no idea he was the prince of a great house. If he ever suspected that she’d been faking…
“Yes,” she answered standing straight, “like my mother before me.”
The anger in his eyes faded, replaced by what looked like pain. “But you told me to marry Joselyn. You told me I’d be happy.”
At that, Céline had to call upon all her skills. Something had gone terribly wrong in his life, something to do with Joselyn, but when he spoke her name, only pain and sorrow rang in his voice, not anger. That suggested Joselyn had not made him miserable, nor had she run off with one of the castle guards.
Joselyn was dead. Céline would have staked her life on it.
Standing even straighter, she challenged, “And weren’t you happy?”
His expression collapsed inward, and he looked away. “Yes,” he answered after a long moment. “I was happy.”
Abruptly he stood up and faced her again. All traces of sorrow were gone, and he was the haughty prince once more. Without another word, he turned and strode for the door, jerking it open and walking out.
At a loss, she followed him. Only a few paces into the great hall, he stopped and said over his shoulder, “You are free to go.”
Go where? she thought in sudden despair, looking across the hall at Amelie.
But as Anton began walking toward the exit again, Jaromir stepped forward and stopped him. “My lord, I had another thought.”
He leaned in and began speaking quietly in the prince’s ear. Anton frowned at first, but then he began listening in earnest, and finally he turned to glance back at Céline.
“Very well,” he said slowly. “But you’ll have to show them everything.” He paused, as if somehow the words Jaromir had whispered in his ear were beginning to take hold. “Show them the shop first, and then arrange a room for them in the castle.”
What shop?
Jaromir smiled at Amelie, and Céline had a sinking feeling in her stomach. He wanted something more from them.
* * *
Amelie kept close to Céline as they both followed Jaromir back through the bustling town, but she almost couldn’t believe how much her life had been altered in less than a full day. Their home was gone, and since she’d spent half the night unconscious, she had no idea where they were or how far they’d come.
Besides, after Damek’s attempt to kill them—and her stabbing one of his men in the throat—they couldn’t go home, even if someone there might take them in.
Worse, that bastard Jaromir kept smiling at her, as if sooner or later she’d find him charming. She wished she could run her dagger through his throat. Just thinking of how he’d knocked her out so easily and then trussed her up made her blood run hot. If he weren’t so damn strong, she’d have gotten away from him outside the moat this morning.
But…since coming inside the walls, her opinion of the situation itself had altered. Cows, goats, and chickens added to the noise of people doing business here, and everyone seemed warmly dressed and well fed. This was nothing like their drab home village, nor was it like the grand city she’d seen on her one visit to Enêmûsk, which had been sharply divided between the rich and the starving.
She’d never seen anything like this place.
No one seemed afraid of the soldiers, and many people either nodded or called a greeting to Jaromir as if they liked him. He stopped in front of a solid one-story wooden building that had been stained a rich brown, with yellow painted shutters.
“This is it,” he said.
Amelie barely glanced at the building and had no idea why he’d pointed it out, but then he opened the door and stepped inside. “Come on.”
Once inside, Céline sucked in a sharp breath, but it took Amelie a moment to realize why. They were in the front room of a shop. There was a sturdy counter running half the length of the room, and the walls were lined with shelves of clay pots and jars. A dusty wooden table was littered with pestle and mortar, brass scales, small wooden bowls, and an open box of tinder and flint. A large welcoming hearth comprised the center of the south wall.
“This way,” Jaromir said, and he led them behind the counter and through a set of swinging doors into a storage area. “There’s a large bedroom through there,” he said, pointing to a closed door, “but the best is out here.”
He opened the back door of the shop and held it for Céline to see outside. She drew in another sharp breath, and Amelie looked over her shoulder at the remnants of what had once been a thriving herb garden.
Divided into eight large separate beds, the herbs were now either overgrown or dying from lack of care: cumin, fennel, mint, lovage, sage, rue, savory, foxglove, pennyroyal, rosemary, lilies, and roses…Amelie lost count. Faded red poppies lined the back fence, and an apple tree graced one corner.
Céline stepped out and knelt down in what was left of the foxglove patch. “Many of these plants are still alive,” she said. “This could be brought back to its former state.”
Céline had always loved herbs. She loved healing. But this was cruel, letting Céline sit like that in someone else’s herb garden when her own was lost.
“Why did you bring us here?” Amelie demanded of Jaromir. “Why would you show this to her?”
“Because the owner’s dead,” he answered. He was standing so close she could see all the soft hairs of his goatee, and she backed up. “He died last summer,” he went on, “and we’ve had no apothecary since. Ownership reverted to the prince, but the place has been standing empty.”
Céline’s eyes were sad. “Lieutenant, I hope you don’t think we can purchase this place from your prince. We’ve no money hidden away.” She sighed. “At present, this dress is all I have left to my name.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m well aware you lost everything last night. But the prince has given me leave to offer this shop to you if you can solve a problem for us.”
Amelie stepped around him. “Offer us the…you mean let us live here, as members of his own people?”
Céline stood up, equally shocked.
This was a prosperous community, and the people here had goods to trade and money to spend…and daughters who’d be begging Céline to read their futures, daughters with coins in their purses.
And the shop was perfect, far superior to their old home. This was too good to be true. But nothing like this came easily. Amelie crossed her arms over the top of her canvas jacket. “Exactly what problem does he want us to solve?”
Céline listened with rapt attention, but for once, Jaromir didn’t look even mildly amused. He’d gone deadly serious.
“I can’t just tell you. I have to show you.” He paused. “And I warn you, the sight isn’t pretty.”
That didn’t sound good.
But Céline looked around at the large, neglected herb garden and then up at the beautifully stained wooden exterior of the shop. “Show me.”
* * *
Céline stood amid countless barrels of ale in a cold-storage room below the castle larder, staring down into what had once been the face of a teenaged girl.
The girl’s body was lying on a table beside two others in the same state. All three had been desiccated—shriveled down to skin and bones. Two were dressed in fine gowns, but the third wore plain homespun. Their long hair was spread around them. As a healer in a village like Shetâna, Céline had seen her share of dead bodies, but she’d never seen anything like this.
“Was it plague?” Amelie whispered, standing beside her.
“No,” Céline answered, and some of the numb feeling from the night before was returning to her hands. She needed time to recover between the fears and horrors and losses she’d experienced, but they just kept coming. The dead girls looked so fragile, so brittle, lying there with their hair spread around.
“How did this happen?” she asked Jaromir.
He, too, just looked down at the bodies, and Céline thought that even for him, a hardened soldier, this sight was difficult. “There was a fourth…I mean a first,” he said. “She just vanished one night, and her father found her in the stable, hidden beneath some hay. He sent word to me because he did fear plague and thought I should know. We burned the body. Days passed and no one else got sick…but I still wondered what could do this to a girl her age. She was only sixteen.”
He sounded so frustrated and so bereft that in spite of everything, Céline wondered what it would be like to live in a community where the people could report a death to the soldiers and someone like Jaromir would take charge, would actually care.
“But then it happened again, about a week later,” he went on, “only this time, the girl was found in her own bed.” He pointed to the girl in the homespun. “She kissed her parents good night and went to bed, and they found her like this the next morning. At that point, I reported both deaths to my lord, and he ordered me to store the body. We have a royal physician at the castle, Master Feodor, and Prince Anton had him examine the body, but he could tell no more than me. The poor girl was just a dried husk.”
Céline stared down at the body and shook her head. “But it happened twice more?”
“Again, about a week apart,” he said, “and only at night. They’d just go to bed, and someone would find them like this the next morning. Only these two were from…wealthier families, merchants’ daughters, but all of them were sixteen or seventeen years old and said to be uncommonly pretty. I managed to keep this hushed up for a while, but rumors are starting to spread.”
Then his tone changed, and once again, he sounded like a soldier. “Sub-Prince Damek is known for his penchant toward brutal strength. As cruel as it sounds, his father, Prince Lieven, respects that. Anton is known as a good leader who takes care of his people. His father respects that, too, but I don’t know which quality holds the most sway. I only know that if Anton loses his standing as a leader able to protect his people, it could destroy his chances of being named heir.”
Céline shook her head. “What is it exactly that you wish me to do?”
“Use your powers,” he said. “I can put together a list of young women this age who are thought to be pretty, and you can read their futures. If you can touch upon the next girl to die and see who or what is killing her, you can tell me. I can’t fight what I can’t see, but you can see for me.”
“Read their futures?” Céline asked. “Won’t that just set a blaze to more rumors?”
He hesitated. “I have a few ideas where we can make it look like a game…entertainment being provided by the prince.”
“A game?” Amelie said, glancing at Céline. “That might work.”
“You can do this, can’t you?” Jaromir asked Céline, unashamed to be voicing doubt. “I mean, I know Prince Anton believes you are a true seer, but he has a trusting heart.”
She looked down again at the three dead bodies, but Jaromir wasn’t finished.
“Here’s the bargain,” he said. “If you solve this for us, help me put a stop to it, the shop is yours unconditionally. You can live here and conduct business under Anton’s protection for as long as you like.”
“Then you’re no seer and no use to us here. You can leave and go your own way.”
Céline closed her eyes and saw the pretty shop with its yellow shutters and the herb garden out back. She imagined living in a world where the soldiers actually protected people and the prince cared for their welfare. She remembered the flash of ugly reality that had hit her when she’d read Rhiannon. Would it happen again? Had she inherited her mother’s gift? And if it didn’t happen again, how would she go about finding out whom or what was killing the young women here?
She only knew that she wasn’t going to pass this chance by, and if she had to, she’d start looking for the cause herself…leaning upon her ability to read people and see the secrets beneath their faces.
“Can you do it?” Amelie asked, and Céline saw that her sister wanted to stay as badly as she did.
Céline looked straight into Jaromir’s eyes. “Yes,” she said. “I can do it.”