Fool's Errand (9 page)

Persephone enjoyed Finn's stories very much, and though her own stories were bleak by comparison, she shared them with an uncharacteristically willing heart. She described years of waking each morning before dawn to haul water for the master's bath and to polish silver and beat rugs and chop vegetables and wash floors and hang laundry and scrub out fire-blackened pots that were nearly as big as she was. She recalled collapsing exhausted into the warm ashes by the dying fire late each night only to lie awake for hours wondering about the parents she'd never known. She told of the terrible evening she'd been wagered by the Master, who'd lost her to a tavern owner in a game of dice; she recounted how the tavern owner had been forced to drag her, kicking and screaming, away from her beloved Cookie and the only home she'd ever known. She told how the tavern owner had soon thereafter given her to the man who'd tried to stick his hand up her skirt and received a fork in the arm for his troubles, and how that man had turned around and sold her to an overseer at the Mines of Torodania. She spoke of arriving at the mine to find herself brutally shorn, clothed in rags and driven down into a section of the mine so restricted that it was guarded not only by soldiers but also by huge, slavering dogs trained to tear out human throats. She told of working to the point of collapse and of never having enough to eat, of being too terrified to sleep and of befriending a clever rat named Faust. In a tremulous voice, she told how Faust had been eaten by one of the feral children who inhabited the darkness, how her grief had spurred her escape from the mines and how she'd ended up on the owner's farm, where she'd laboured until that fateful moonlit night she'd surprised Azriel in the act of stealing a chicken.

Though plainly horrified by all that his lost twin had been forced to endure, Finn nevertheless abided by Persephone's request that they not allow the mood of the day to be ruined by sadness for things that could not be changed. Calling for a pair of slippers with intact heels, he gallantly got down on bended knee, slipped them onto Persephone's feet and then led her out to the beautiful royal garden. There, the two of them enjoyed a scrumptious picnic amid the blooms and the songbirds. Later, they made their way down to the harbour. Clambering down off the high, sturdy quay, they kicked off their shoes and spent a golden afternoon walking barefoot in the sand. They explored tidal pools, poked sticks at brilliantly coloured snapping crabs and stuck their heads into the treacherous sea caves that dotted the cliff behind them until the roar of the incoming tide sent them scrambling to the safety of higher ground.

That evening, although a second night of feasting and entertainments had been planned in honour of the king's birthday, Finn was so enjoying his time alone with Persephone that he refused to attend. Instead, he ordered food and drink brought up to his private chambers. His handsome face shining with eagerness, he suggested to Persephone that they sup while sitting cross-legged upon the bearskin rug before the fire as they might have done when they were children, if they'd but had the chance. Laughingly, she agreed.

And when they'd finally eaten their fill, and the first twinkling stars had begun to appear in the night sky beyond the open windows, and Finn was intently studying the playing cards in his hand, trying to decide how many white beans to wager, Persephone could not help thinking what a very marvellous thing it was to have a brother, and what a very terrible thing it would be to lose him.

Again.

EIGHT

B
Y DAWN THE FOLLOWING DAY
, Persephone was up and dressed like the princess she was, Rachel was swathed in the heavy linen bandages of a leper, and little Mateo was garbed in the smart livery of a palace pageboy.

Azriel—who'd personally selected their travelling outfits—was himself dressed in a richly embroidered doublet of crimson velvet with sleeves puffed and fashionably slashed to reveal a white silk undershirt. To complement this, he'd selected matching velvet breeches, good black boots, a black travelling cloak and a gilded codpiece of such impressive size that Meeka simply could not stop smiling.

“You don't think it's too much, do you, Princess?” he asked anxiously, but with a gleam in his eye.

Vexed to find herself blushing, Persephone ignored his question in favour of asking him if it was
really
necessary for Rachel to dress as a leper.

“It is,” he said as he casually planted his hands on his hips so that both index fingers just happened to be pointing directly at his gilded crotch. “Now, enough idle chatter and gawking at codpieces. Fetch your cloaks—it is time that we were on our way.”

A few minutes later—after an emotional farewell to Martha and the sisters, who vowed to say nothing to anyone of anything they'd seen or heard within Persephone's chamber—Persephone peeled Meeka off Azriel and led him, Rachel and Mateo down to the palace courtyard. When they arrived, she was astounded and dismayed to see that Azriel had assembled a veritable
entourage
to accompany them on their travels: four lowborn men, eight women, four boys and fifteen identically caparisoned horses loaded down with packs and panniers.

“I don't think this is what my brother, the king, meant when he ordered you to make ‘adequate' preparations, Azriel,” said Persephone as she leaned down to give Cur a pat on his scruffy head.

“The king did not
order
me to make preparations—he
asked
me to do so,” replied Azriel loftily. “He also granted me permission to freely requisition whatever I required in that regard, and that is what I have done. You are a princess, Your Highness—not only are your comfort and safety of the greatest import, but you are a representative of the royal family about to embark upon a procession through the streets of the imperial capital. It would not be seemly for you to travel like a nobody.”

“What he says is exactly true,” came a familiar voice from behind them.

Persephone turned to see Finn dressed in one of his grandest ceremonial outfits. After embracing Persephone, patting Mateo on the head and uncertainly offering Rachel condolences on the matter of her hideous affliction, he complimented Azriel on his dashing ensemble.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” murmured Azriel with a graceful bow. “Please allow me to apologize for my earlier duplicity and to say that I hope you were not overly shocked when you learned that I was a Gypsy outlaw.”

“I was far more shocked when I learned that you were
not
a eunuch,” admitted King Finnius, who seemed to be doing everything in his power to avoid looking at Azriel's ridiculous codpiece.

Smothering a smile, Azriel bowed again. As he did so, Finn put his arm around Persephone's shoulder and drew her aside.

“I received a great many gifts for our birthday, sister; it did not seem right that you should leave Parthania without getting any at all,” he explained with a cough as he handed her something wrapped in blue velvet and tied with a silver ribbon.

Persephone—who hadn't received a gift from someone who cared since she'd been dragged from the manor house all those years ago—reverently placed the package in the palm of her hand and tugged on the ribbon. Her breath caught as the folds of velvet fell away to reveal a linked bracelet hung with crude charms, an exquisitely crafted silver necklace and a heavy gold ring set with large rubies arranged in a perfect circle.

“The bracelet is an ancient piece said to confer protection, the ring bears the crest of the Erok royal family and will signal to all that we are as one, and the necklace belonged to our mother,” explained Finn. He smiled before wistfully adding, “I am certain she'd have given it to you herself if she'd but had the chance.”

Swallowing past the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, Persephone croaked, “They're … beautiful, Finn. Thank you. I just … I wish I had something to give you in return.”

“Ah, but you have,” said Finn, raising his index finger high in the air. “You can give me your word that while on this quest and ever afterward, you will run from danger, regardless of what quarter it comes from or who might suffer as a result of your actions.”

Thoroughly warmed by this utterly unreasonable request, Persephone gave her twin a quick, impulsive hug and said, “You must know I cannot promise that. But I
can
promise that I will not run
toward
danger unless I have a very good reason to do so.”

“That isn't really much of a promise,” observed Finn ruefully as he coughed again—this time so violently that three tiny droplets of blood appeared on his lower lip.

“I'm afraid it's the best I can do,” said Persephone, her heart clenching at the sight of the blood.

Casually, Finn ran his fingertip along his lip and the droplets disappeared. “Then let us hope you have more success finding the healing pool than you do acquiescing to the requests of your sovereign lord,” he said lightly.

“Let us hope,” replied Persephone, under her breath.

After helping Persephone don her new jewellery, Finn led her back to where the others were waiting and helped her into the saddle on Fleet's swayed back. As he did so, a reluctant groomsman helped the heavily bandaged Rachel and Mateo up onto a second horse, Azriel swung up onto a third, and the men, women and boys of the entourage all scrambled up onto theirs.

When everyone was mounted and ready, the king—who was, by this point, sitting straight and tall upon his big, black hunter—held his gloved hand out to Persephone. Side by side they led the others through the watchtower passageway, through the gates of the imperial palace and out into the streets of Parthania. It was far too early for any member of the nobility to be up and about, but the streets were filled with those of low birth who'd turned out to see the beautiful, long-lost princess who'd been raised a slave, who knew what it was to empty chamber pots and who'd almost certainly known hunger and cold and pain. She was one of them, this princess, and she was a living testament to the fact that while there was breath, there was always hope that better days might come. And so they cheered her and threw flowers; little girls blew kisses and little boys threw their caps in the air. One awestruck woman reached out to touch the hem of Persephone's gown as she rode past; another got down on her knees and begged a royal blessing for her sick child. Young men hung from second-storey windows, happily risking life and limb for the merest glimpse of her.

At first, Persephone was so overwhelmed by the adulation that she sat rigid in the saddle, looking neither left nor right. At length, however, she began to feel the genuine warmth behind the display, and it was this—combined with Azriel's mocking whispers that she was behaving like a royal stick-in-the-mud—that finally got her smiling and waving. Seeing how this delighted both Finn and the crowd, she smiled and waved more enthusiastically. Indeed, she got so comfortable doing so that when they finally reached the great gates of the city and she heard a familiar voice calling her name, she almost smiled and waved in the direction of the caller.