The Reign of Trees (24 page)

***

Her relationship with Valencio seemed to progressively degenerate. He was more demanding and less patient, to the point that yelling at her was a daily occurrence. Illianah feared him, as she suspected she had yet to see him entirely lose his patience, especially when many of the new servants whispered that Monsieur Valencio ruled with a sharp hand. But she could never let him see that she feared him. She frequently lashed back at him verbally, hoping he would see he had no control over her. However, she felt that her backlashes fell short, as he seemed to enjoy watching her struggle to keep her dignity.

She was not foolish enough to continue to inquire about the war, but he did not have power over her ears. If others were talking of it, she could not be stopped from listening.

The village and mill of Peroso had fallen to Prince Harrington just days after Donovan had come to Vieve. The latest news from the capital was that the village and mill of Tabo was now under attack. With that news, questions and speculations over what would happen next were on the tongues of every citizen. The common voice of the villagers of Bouron agreed that the Deltegran capital would be next in Prince Harrington’s sight. Also, it was commonly accepted that Deltegra would fall. King Henrick and his son would be dethroned.

“Prince Harrington will show them no mercy,” Illianah heard one man say.

“King Henrick is as good as dead,” another said.

Illianah was at the market, purchasing new pots from a traveling vendor; when she heard the prediction of King Henrick’s death, she dropped the pot she was looking at. She did not dare cast her eyes around to see if others had noticed how clumsy she was and she was certain her face looked as white as a ghost. She quickly finished up her business with the vendor and returned to her carriage. Illianah nearly forgot that she was being accompanied by the cook, but the stout woman caught up with Illianah just before she ordered the driver to leave.

“Are we leaving so soon, Mistress?” she asked.

“Yes. I have had enough for today.”

The cook did not seem to take notice of Illianah’s flustered and disoriented state and simply climbed aboard. Of course, the topic she chose to talk about on the ride back to the estate was the very one Illianah was trying to escape from: the war and the imminent deaths of the royal family of Deltegra.

“I do not wish to speak of it,” Illianah said a bit too harshly.

The cook sat back into the carriage so that Illianah could no longer see her face. Illianah sighed heavily. “I apologize for my harshness,” she said. “I already had an earful in the village about the war, and it is … grim. Too grim to think about.”

It seemed as if the cook accepted the apology. She sat back up and said, “I would have thought you would be happy with this news, what with you being from Burchess.”

“Death and destruction never makes me happy, no matter where I am from.”

Illianah could scarcely complete her daily tasks, as her mind seemed to be stuck in Deltegra. It was exactly as Donovan had thought it would be. Either he would starve to death or be forced to surrender. She could not accept either option.

Since she had not yet been given her month’s pay, she did not have the ability to purchase parchment. She could not ask to borrow some, as Valencio would demand to know who she needed to contact. Illianah waited until she was certain the entire household was asleep and then she crept into her master’s study. She did not dare to write the letter in the study, in case he might wake and find her there, so she brought the parchment, the ink, and the quill back to her bedchamber. Her words were selected with precision, in case someone besides Prince Henrick should read her letter.

Donovan,

I fear for your safety. I
 
believe death is marching close toward you. It would not be dishonorable for you to leave under these circumstances. Please, get out while you can.

I am at the seashore in Bouron. Once more, I bid you to come to me.

Yours,

Lily

She sealed the letter and formulated a plan to have it delivered to Andoradda. It would be complicated and she would need a great deal of money to accomplish it, but it was not hopeless. Only difficult.

***

The fatigue she had been fighting since her arrival at the Bouron estate finally seemed to win the battle. Through the thick fog of sleep, she could hear someone banging on her door and calling out for Katherine.
Who is Katherine?

But the banging at her door continued, and a man’s voice said, “Do not make me break this door down.”

Valencio!

She quickly threw back the covers and put her feet on the cold floor. Her robe was at the desk, as was her folded letter to Donovan and the evidence that she had stolen from her master. He banged on her door again. She did not have time to hide the ink and the pen. “Coming,” she said as she grabbed the letter and tucked it in the pocket of her robe.

Illianah put her foot in front of the door so it would only open a crack: just enough for him to see that she was not dressed.

When he saw her face through the small slit in the door, he immediately cursed at her and told her she had overslept. “I have been waiting an entire hour for you to join me for my breakfast instruction.”

“I think you are entirely capable of eating one meal on your own,” she said. “You do not always need my assistance.”

She began to shut the door, but Valencio shoved it open, pushing it into her foot in the process. Her first reaction was to cower in pain, but her second reaction preempted her first. “Sir!” she said firmly, drawing her robe tight around her chest. “I am not yet dressed. You may not enter my chambers.”

“You were up late,” he replied. “You were writing a letter, weren’t you?”

His eyes went to her desk, where the bottle of ink gave an unspoken answer.

“Where is it?” he asked as he moved to the desk. He lifted the blank sheet of parchment she had saved to enclose Donovan’s letter and found nothing else.

“I did not get around to writing it. I grew too tired.”

Valencio again swore at her and said, “You are a liar and a thief. I trusted you in my home.”

He began to toss her things around the room as he searched for her letter. After the first minute of searching, his anger intensified. He went so far as tossing her mattress from her bed, where he found Donovan’s dagger hidden there. Valencio tucked the dagger into his waistband and said, “Such wiliness, Katherine. What other secrets do you hide?”

When Illianah gave no answer, he shoved her nightstand, making it crashed sideways upon the floor. “Where is the letter?” he again demanded.

She did not want to lie to him again, yet she did not want to counter her claim that she had not written a letter, so she said nothing. He rushed to her side and put his forearm across the top of her chest and shoved her into the wall. “I asked you a question!” he yelled, his foul-smelling breath making her want to shrink away from him. But he had her pinned. She could not move, not even an inch.

“Get off me, you filthy, stinking pig!” Illianah was amazed that she was able to yell back and that her voice did not shake with fear. Somewhere deep within her mind, she had told herself to never show weakness in front of Valencio, no matter how hard he tried to assert control. It seemed that if she gave him even the smallest amount of power over her, he would
worm
his way into her soul and destroy her forever. She could not let him know how terrified she was at this moment.

He smiled wickedly and said, “This is nothing, my darling,” and again pushed her back against the wall. Within his eyes came a look of discovery and he backed away from her. “Empty your pockets, Katherine.”

“No! I will not!” The desperation in her voice must have confirmed her guilt, making his smile grow larger.

“Either you do it, or I will.”

“You have no right …” she began to say.

“I have every right. You have stolen from me. Now empty your pockets or I will be glad to do it for you.”

Illianah knew she had lost. He would again push her against the wall and proceed to feel through her pockets. She would not let him violate her.

She produced the letter from her pocket and then hung her head low, making it so she did not see the look of smugness she was certain he was wearing.

He opened the letter, and while she did not dare look at him, she could tell from the silence in the room that he was reading her words. “Donovan?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he had taken a knife to the back. “Who is this Donovan?”

Her head hung even lower. She would never answer Valencio’s question and reveal Prince Henrick’s identity, or her own.

Valencio was instantly upon her again, but this time he grabbed her by the hair at the top of her head as he shoved her into the wall. The pain quickly radiated through her head and she knew he had seen the grimace upon her face. “Ah, you did not like that, did you ‘Lily?’”

She said nothing.

“Tell me who he is or I will hit your head upon this wall until it is stained with your blood.”

“I do not fear you, nor do I fear death,” she said, her voice wrought with anger.

“I doubt that,” he said. He let go of her hair and stepped back, his chest heaving from the exertion.

“You have betrayed me,” he said, now pacing in front of her. “You have promised to marry me, and yet you are writing to another and bidding him to come to you. You are an adulteress.”

“Yes, I am,” she said, trying to push away the laughter that was coming into her heart. She was more of an adulteress than Valencio could ever imagine.

“And you are not ashamed?” he yelled.

“Oh yes,” she answered, not able to keep the sarcasm from her voice, “deeply.” While at one time, Illianah was ashamed for letting her heart have thoughts of another man while married to Leif, she no longer felt that it was him whom she belonged to. It was Donovan, even if their love could never be publically recognized. Yes, she felt shame for being with
Valenico
when she really should be with Donovan. But after Valencio’s poor treatment of her, she no longer felt as if she owed him anything.

“Since I do not trust you, I will not leave you here alone while I am at sea.” He had said just days ago that he would finally sail at the end of this week; Illianah could not wait to see his ship disappear into the distance, as she had known that would be the last she would ever see of him. But …

“You will marry me before I sail or you will come with me on my voyage.”

“If I am with you on your ship, who will run your household? Who will make certain it is ready for a lord?”

“At this moment, that is not my concern. I am concerned that the woman I planned to marry is deceiving me. You never intended to marry me, did you? You planned on leaving with your Donovan before I ever returned from sea.”

“No,” she answered honestly. She had never planned on leaving with Donovan: she had only hoped for it.

“You will not receive your pay until I am back from sea, but I do not think even that is enough to entice you to stay. And since I doubt you are strong enough to survive three months at sea and I do not want you dead yet, we will marry on Friday, the day before I sail. I will notify the preacher. Now clean up this mess and get dressed.”

Valencio left her standing breathless against the wall; he took her letter with him. Not that it mattered if he took the letter—there was no way she could send it to Donovan now. She needed her month’s wages to pay for the post.

She could not marry Valencio on Friday. Her conscience would force her to tell the preacher that she was already married, which would result in Valencio discovering her true identity. He would hold her for ransom and she knew his treatment of her would be nothing like the treatment she had received while being held for ransom in Deltegra.

The only thing she could do was run from Valencio.

***

Valencio watched her like a hawk that day. She could not move into another room without him following her; yet he could not follow her into her mind.

Illianah had thought up a plan. Valencio had several fine horses in his stables: Illianah planned to take one and ride off into the dark night. She would have to stick to the highway, as she did not know any other way to get back to the capital of Vieve and then to Deltegra. She would have to be fast and never stop, not even for a moment. She would have to make certain she slipped out quietly so that she would have at least an hour’s lead on Valencio and anyone he would send to pursue her.

But she would need food and money. It would be impossible to obtain either with him watching her so closely. Illianah did not feel guilty for betraying the cold and cruel Valencio, nor did she feel guilty for stealing from him as she was not just a common thief: she was stealing to save her soul.

Her plan was to slip out of her room after Valencio went to bed, but when she retired to her bedchamber that evening, her entire body tensed like she had just been wound tightly in a spider’s web.

“Monsieur Valencio,” she said, knowing he would be just two steps behind her, “where is my door?”

“I had it removed,” he said, approaching her from behind, “for the renovation. It needed to be refinished.”

“And it had to be done today?”

“Yes. You can have it back after you marry me—that is if you continue to stay in this bedchamber while I am gone.”

“How will I change into my nightgown?” she asked, hoping he would realize how unfeasible this was.

“I will not look,” he said, his voice light as if this were a joke.

“Then I will not change.”

She went to the room and set her candle upon her nightstand, only to have him follow her into her room. “Why are you in my bedchamber?” she asked, instantly alarmed.

“I am borrowing your cloak.”

“My cloak?” Her heart began to beat so loudly she was certain he would hear it and know of her plans. How could she flee into the darkness of the night without her cloak? Just yesterday, Valencio had said that the top of the nearby
Soder
Pass had seen snow; that was the direction she would be heading.

“Yes, I need something to keep me warm.”

She did not understand his meaning until he took the cloak, went into the hallway, and proceeded to lie down on the cold marble floor. He took her cloak, covered his body, and tucked his arms under his head. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“What does it look like I am doing? I am sleeping.”

Illianah retreated to her bedchamber
 
so he could not see the emotion on her face. She was not certain what that emotion was, but she knew it would betray her plans. She felt crushed. Angry. Scared.

After she blew out her candle, she fell onto her bed and kept her word about not changing her clothes, which actually did benefit her somewhat. It would be easier to slip out of the room if she did not have to change.

She lay in her bed and waited. And waited. And waited.

A few times, she caught herself nodding off. But she never did hear Valencio snore.

She assumed it to be very late—well past midnight—when she finally crept out of her bed and into the hall. If Valencio awoke, she would make the excuse of being hungry and going for a piece of bread, at which he would follow her to the kitchen and her attempted escape would be thwarted. But she had to try.

His feet were sprawled across her doorway, and as she stepped over him, she was grateful for many years of dancing lessons as she was able to move sinuously, not making a sound. Her slow, cautious movements took her down the hall and away from Valencio, to the kitchen. She grabbed a loaf of bread off the counter and then went to the dining room where she grabbed two silver candlesticks. They would not be worth much, but it was better than nothing.

As she passed through the great hall, she took a blanket from the back of one of the old, worn-out chairs and wrapped it around her shoulders before she went to the door.

She stopped dead with her hand on the doorknob. If she opened that door, it was likely that it would wake Valencio. She did not know if she could run fast enough to get to the stable before him. He would catch her. He would punish her with his firm hand, she was certain of that.

No Illianah
, a voice within her mind said.
Not the door
.

She held still and listened for further instructions, but nothing came. She did not know whether she needed to go back to bed to save herself from Valencio’s wrath or if she just needed to find another way to leave.

A window
.
Go out a window
.

Valencio’s study had the biggest windows, so she moved in the direction of that room, but she did not know if opening a window would be any quieter than opening the heavy front door. As soon as she stepped into the study, she was hit by a draft of cold air that brought a shiver down her back.

The window!

           
The fire in the study that evening had smoked excessively; Valencio had scolded the servant for bringing in wood covered with moss and demanded that the servant open the window to air the room out. Illianah was supposed to come back to close it, but Valencio had distracted her by following her every move. Since it was already open a few inches, it would be easy to push it open farther without it making too much noise, however this was an old house and everything within it seemed to either creak or groan.

Ever so carefully, she pushed against the pane. It did creak, but not loudly and only for the first few inches. She held still and listened.

Nothing.

No steps in the hallway. No rustling of parchments in the study as the wind blew through. It was as if a magician had put a spell on the estate, forcing everything to remain sleepy and still.

Illianah stepped through the window, the loaf of bread under one arm and the candlesticks under the other. She stood outside the window and again listened for any signs of arousal. She was safe. No one had heard.

The window needed to be closed, at least partially, or the breeze would creep throughout the house and wake Valencio. It creaked even louder than it had when she pushed it opened, but she hoped it was because she was standing closer to the hinge outside the window. She did not wait this time to see if the noise had been heard; she ran across the lawn and headed south, toward the stable.

Clouds covered the sky; Illianah’s heart fell, realizing she would not have the brightness of the moon to guide her as she fled. The moon had been her one comfort—her only beacon—the night she had fled from Deltegra. Tonight, she would have nothing but fear chasing at her back.

The door to the stable also creaked, but she knew the stable hand slept in the house, as the stable house had been overrun by rats.

It was black as mud inside the stable and she stood still, blinking, for at least a minute hoping her eyes would adjust. With her hand held out in front of her to make sure she did not bump into anything, she felt for the tack wall and found a saddle and a handbag. She also found a cloak. She did not know who it belonged to, but she suspected it was a man’s and likely threadbare and covered in hay, but it would work better than the blanket.

She counted the stalls as she went through the stable, not being able to see the horses well enough to know which one was which. Valencio’s finest horses were kept along the back wall, nearest to the large door.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, Illianah could see the rump of a white horse. It was probably the fastest, but it would stand out against the dark night, so she moved on and selected a chestnut mare in the next stall.

It whinnied as she put the saddle upon its back. “
Shhh
,” Illianah whispered. “It is all right. We are leaving this wretched place.” She continued to speak softly to keep the animal calm, as Illianah knew nothing would make Valencio wake from sleep quicker than a disturbance in his stable.

The massive stable door groaned loudly in complaint when she forced it open. She then let go of the door and turned her attention to the horse, which was unfortunate, because the door hit the outer wall of the stable with a loud thud, which then caused the horse to whinny.

Illianah’s heart raced with such great speed that she was having a hard time catching her breath.

She quickly shut the stable door and mounted the horse. “Yah!” she said, her voice cutting through the blackness of the night.

Illianah did not look back—not even once.