Yet all her mind could muster was; Where are you?
A visit to the city gaol—a place Jess hoped never to visit again—confirmed that Sasha and Rialta were not being kept there, which was a relief, but it had also become clear that no one was going to give her their exact whereabouts. Either because they didn’t know, as was the case with all of the Calyx and most of the Fahyli, or because they were sticking to the rules. Permission had to be given by one of three people; the justice—who didn’t live at the palace and whom Jess never learned the name of, she didn’t even know if the justice was male or female, everyone just called him or her ‘the justice’—Captain Bradburn, or Ian Peneçek, the Crofter. Presumably, the king and queen’s say-so would work as well.
Ilishec didn’t seem to notice that Jess’s focus on her work was basically nonexistent. He bustled about the palace in a state of constant fretting and frustration over the way the Calyx had reacted to the quarantining of their familiars. Of all of Solana’s floral fae population, only Ania, Beazle and Proteas’s sugar glider, Ahanu, escaped the week long hell of being restricted to life in a small box. Some of the insects seemed to understand and accept their fate, like Sphex, Jalla, and Amarylis’s famliar, a carpenter bee named Xylo. But Bombini, Trea, Heath’s familiar, Coco, and so many others buzzed about their tiny prison walls angrily, eating hardly at all, while others fell into a despondency that—had the Calyx not been mystically connected to their familiars—would have sent them into a panic, thinking they were dead. Famliars who’d gone dormant had responded to none of the attempts to revive or comfort them; nectar, music, fragrant blooms tucked inside their boxes to be a comfort and a nourishment.
The good news though, was that four days had passed already and none of the familiars were acting in the way Moony had before he’d died. Ilishec reminded the Calyx of this hopeful beam of light in an otherwise dark time, but still couldn’t get them to attend lectures, learn new dances or practice old ones, eat more than a few nibbles, or stand for Olinya’s couturieres to size them up for new costumes. In short, the Calyx were too upset to work until the quarantine was over, and there were still three days to go.
Jess and Laec rode back to the stables and put their mounts in the capable hands of the grooms to be rubbed down, blanketed, fed, and watered. It was supposed to be a morning ride with a friend, but they parted ways with hardly a word and it wasn’t until Jess was bathing away the smell of horse in her suite that she regretted not asking him how he was. How he really was. Jess understood that he cared deeply for Cifta after seeing the way he’d treated her during their rescue mission in Rahamlar.
She shook her head, chiding herself as she combed out her hair, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “You’re not the only one suffering, you know.”
She donned a long-sleeved woolen gown of deep burgundy, a typical winter dress for a Calyx. She pinned back half of her hair, revealing her ears, and slid her lion’s head ring onto her index finger. Wrapping a thick scarf around neck, and a soft fur cape around her upper body, she felt ready to go outside. Everyone was complaining that this winter was the coldest in a hundred years, but Jess was too distracted to care much about the weather. As she opened the door to leave her room, Beazle dropped from the ceiling and crawled under the hair at the nape of her neck. Jess smiled when she felt him drop off into a doze again almost immediately.
Aster, Rose and Snap were shorter with Jessamine than usual, as they moped about the East Keep waiting for hell-week to pass. And since Calyx activities had all but ceased, and Ilishec was the grumpiest of all, Jessamine spent most of her time in the West Keep, hoping for some clue about Sasha’s whereabouts, as though she could fish information out of the air.
“But what if they’re being mistreated, or not fed well, or Sasha needs to have a letter delivered?” Jess complained to Regalis as he carved a new handle for an old Kittrell blade that had belonged to his grandfather.
The Fahyli spared her a glance. “They’re fine, Jess. No one is presumed guilty or treated as such before a trial. Their needs are being met. Now, leave it alone. Leave me alone,” he added with a cornerwise smile of affectionate annoyance.
Jessamine sat down on the bench beside him, pretending to be interested in his craftsmanship. The head of an eagle was taking shape under his deft fingers. It was already so like Ferrugin that Jess should have been impressed. She stared at Regalis’s hands as they coaxed a new shape from the wood, but noticed nothing.
She sprang up again. “But where are they?”
“Jess, you’re in my light.” Regalis pushed her sideways, blasting dust and shavings away from his creation with a quick, well-aimed blow. Condensation misted the air and dissipated on the winter wind. “Why is it so important to you, anyway?”
“I told you.” Jess replied a little too quickly, “We’re friends.”
“I see.” Regalis’s tone had said he neither saw, nor cared, and he was bored of her.
Beazle shifted sleepily, coming briefly out of his slumber with an exasperation that matched Regalis’s. You’ve interrogated pretty everyone else. Why not him too?
Who? Jess looked around and caught a flash of sunshine on brown hair and tanned cheeks as Digit walked by the open gate before disappearing behind the stone wall. A moment later the tiny Ania hummed by in a straight line.
“Bye Regalis,” murmured Jess, her sights and hope now set on Digit.
“Mercy, at last.” Regalis didn’t look up.
Jess caught up to Digit as he climbed the rocky trail that curved up and around the base of the castle, leading to pasture land. It included a forested copse where animals gathered between the slender trunks for shade on hot days and shelter on windy ones. Right now there was so much horseflesh crammed into the grove that their exhaled breath hovered over them like a fog.
“Shouldn’t you be on the other side of the palace?” Digit asked as she fell in step beside him.
“The Calyx are on strike,” Jess replied, picking up her skirts to make for easier walking over the rough terrain.
This was not strictly true. Ilishec had—in a moment of irritation—referred to the Calyx’s stonewalling of him as a strike, and the term had stuck. But Jess had many Calyx duties she could do on her own—botanical studies, sweat sessions, learning the new spring dances, at least the ones which required solo steps, partner dancing, she could do with Proteas—but if the rest of the Calyx weren’t working, then Jess didn’t want to either. She told Ilishec that it was solidarity for her fellow flora fae. He’d rolled his eyes but let it go. Really, it was all about Sasha.
Digit looked up at the sky, calculating something, maybe the time. “I’d go on strike too, if the crofter wanted to put Ania in a box.”
“Well, sure,” replied Jess. “Can I ask you something?”
“I’m all ears.”
“Do you know where they might keep someone… who… recently got into trouble with the law?”
Ania landed in the pillow of his hair, looking like a glittering jewel in the world’s softest nest.
“Gee, I wonder who that might be. No, I don’t know where they’re keeping Sasha and his wolf, but I do know the palace pretty well, and they’re not in it. If they were, guard rotation would make it obvious.”
Jess stumbled over a loose stone. “Not in the palace?”
“Careful there.” He put a hand under her elbow.
“Where then?”
“I’d guess they’re in the caperlands.”
The name rang a very small, very distant bell.
The caperlands referred to an run-down building on a corner of land that was totally overgrown and mostly forgotten. The palace grounds were massive, with not only huge yards, gardens, greenhouses and keeps, but also countless outbuildings, towers, stables, forges, and sheds. Jess never had a reason to visit the caperlands, but recalled seeing it marked on one of the secret passageway maps. It was positioned well away from the palace, even beyond the training yards.
“They use it as a prison?” Jess pulled up her scarf as they turned a corner and a blast of wind struck her in the face.
Digit pulled a pair of gloves out of the pocket of his bulky coat. “Not usually. It’s a five-hundred year old building that hasn’t been maintained, but its still pretty solid. They say it was the building Erasmus first lived in while Solana City was being built. Caperberries took over the land, hence the name.”
“Weird place to keep him,” Jess mumbled.
“Better than the prison” Digit said, tugging a glove on with his teeth as he lifted his collar with his other hand, so Ania could crawl inside. “I heard there was a big debate about where to keep them. Laws say he should be gaoled, but many view him as a hero, and they pressured the justice to put him somewhere nicer. He’s up for an election next year, so I guess he caved in, which is just as well. Sasha and Rialta don’t deserve to be thrown in with murderers and thieves.”
Jess felt a renewed sense of hope. “Thanks, Digit. In that case, the caperlands makes a lot of sense.”
“It’s an educated guess, but I’d stay away if I were you.” At her expression, he put up his palms. “Just a suggestion. It’s your business, but you’d better not let Ilishec see you with that look on your face.”
Digit strode away, leaving Jess standing there with a pounding heart. What did her face look like when she was thinking of Sasha? However her love changed her features, it was recognizable as love to others, and that was a little frightening given the circumstances.
She made her way down the hill, narrowly avoiding spraining an ankle as she picked toward the lumpy stone structure. The path grew narrow, bookended by thick, prickly bushes. Caperberry plants were dense, with perfectly round, silver-green leaves, even in winter. Leggy tendrils curled out from a central root, catching at her skirt and boots with tiny green crochet-hook thorns.
As she descended into a large hollow place in the landscape, the building came into view. It looked like it might have been a majestic manor once, but time had broken its back, peeled away the plaster and tiles, leaving big patches exposed to the weather. Moss, lichens, and vines choked big grey blocks of stone, crumbling the mortar as nature made every attempt possible to turn the building into dust. A stream trickled somewhere in the undergrowth, and clouds hung over the hollow, filtering the winter sunlight. The caperlands building looked frozen and forlorn, and the closer she got, the less she liked it. Though it was on palace land, it would never be embraced by Solana. Jess had no doubt it had been Erasmus’s home in the early days of this kingdom. As beloved as Erasmus was, no wonder the manor had been rejected. It must have been built by the same architect that had masterminded the Rahamlar fortress.
Two fat wooden doors barred the way in. In front of those doors stood a pair of human soldiers in Solanan livery. Digit was right, Sasha and Rialta had to be inside, otherwise there’d be no one guarding this place. At the realization that she’d found them, Jess’s mouth went dry.
The soldiers were talking in the relaxed way of men who had been boys together, until they looked up and saw her coming down the trail. Then she realized that they were hardly men at all. One was short and soft-cheeked with a round belly pushing at his leathers. The other was tall and gangly, with a scrawny neck and spots on his forehead. Her confidence rose and she put on a friendly smile, picking up her gown to leap gracefully over a puddle. Caperberry tendrils caught the fabric of her dress, breaking threads. Gaby would not be pleased but it couldn’t be helped. She sunned the boys with her most flirtatious grin. Her body tingled as she summoned a honeysuckle-scented flush to her skin.
“Hello, gentlemen,” she said, breezily.
Beazle stirred sleepily. Why do you sound so weird?
The guards straightened, the smiles that had accompanied their private banter were gone. The shorter one looked at her with curiosity, but the skinny one took on a superior expression that Jess immediately disliked. She hated petty authority, and this lad was full of it. He took this duty very seriously. Jess supposed she should be grateful. There might be unfriendlies who wanted to get in and see Sasha, too.
The thin one spoke with a strong country accent. “No one is allowed here ‘cept for a few, and you’re not one of ‘em. You’d best go back where you come from, ‘fore you get into trouble.”
Beazle sensed her rising anxiety. Jess. What are you doing?
What we’re good at. Gathering intel. Go back to sleep.
She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear, still smiling, though her heart was scampering about like a frightened mouse.
Do we have an assignment I don’t know about?
No.
She imagined she could feel Sasha’s presence, and it battled down her fears.
“Thank you for the caution,” she simpered, “That’s so kind of you to warn me, but I won’t get into trouble. I’m Calyx and Sasha is a good friend of mine. I have permission to visit him.”
“This prisoner can’t have no visitors, Calyx or not,” the other youth said, looking apologetic, “Because of the trial, you see.”
He stared at her with big eyes, taking in her faeness, maybe smelling her perfume.
“And if you did have permission,” sniped the other, “it’ll be in writing, and I don’t see nuffink in your hands.”
She twirled a stray curl of hair through her fingers, her expression delicately perplexed. “I didn’t realize I had to wait for written permission. Of course I can get it. If you’ll really want to make me walk all the way back to the castle.” She gave an exhausted sounding sigh. “Then I’ll have to find Ian, of course. He could be anywhere, and the palace grounds are just so huge! It could take me hours and I have a very busy day ahead. If you’ll let me inside for a quick hello, I’ll only take a minute. I promise. I’ll be out of here before you even know it, you won’t even remember that I was here.”
The spotted one narrowed his eyes and actually put his hand on the pommel of his sword. “We don’t care if it takes you weeks, we can’t let you in without a stamp from Bradburn or the Honorable Crofter.” His emphasis was a none-too-subtle rebuke at her supposed inappropriate use of Ian’s first name.
The soft soldier looked uncomfortable, but didn’t voice any disagreement.
Jess let out a long, unhappy breath. “Very well. If I must.” She brightened, as though having an idea. “Shall I bring you anything from the kitchen when I return? A cinnamon popkin, or something savory? There’s hot coffee available for another hour, I could bring you some. That would help keep the cold out of your bones.”
The sweet-faced one lit up like a candle, but the other glowered and touched the back of his fist against his colleague’s chest, as though to say; She spied your weakness, but I’ll keep you in line.
“We get three squares a day, miss,” he told her, tone frigid. “We don’t need you to bring us anything.”
“Thank you, anyway,” the short one said, suffering a hard look from his fellow guardsman.
“Suit yourselves.” Trying to hide her irritation and not totally succeeding, Jess tossed her scarf over her shoulder a little too dramatically. She turned away, rolling her eyes once the guards could no longer see her face. The trail loomed steeply before her, littered with caperberry claws, loose stones, and puddles. Pouting, she climbed further and further from the one she loved. She sulked until she could see the pennants topping the west keep. By the time she reached level ground, the hem of her dress was filthy and torn, her boots were soaked, her knuckles scraped. She raised her eyes heavenward, watching the winter clouds shift slowly across the sky. Ferrugin and Eramus whirled briefly overhead before disappearing behind the trees. She closed her eyes as a shaft of sunlight fought its way through to touch her face, as warm as a promise. Her resolve hardened, nosing past this failure. There were other ways to surmount this obstacle.
If they see you again, without a stamp, they might report you, Beazle cautioned, recognizing the hope rising in her heart and not wanting her to be disappointed. Better not to sniff around anymore.
I’m not going to do any more sniffing around, Jess told him as she slipped through a side door. The warmth of the palace embraced them. You are.
Am I?
If I can’t see them with my own eyes, you can at least send me a visual. I need to know they’re ok.
That’s an abuse of power, observed Beazle, but without any real zeal.
Jess smiled. Technically, he was right, it would be an abuse of their powers, but sneaking in to see Sasha and Rialta wasn’t going to hurt the kingdom or anyone in it. Beazle was—even now—getting a thrill from imagining himself slipping unnoticed through the cracks of the old manor. He couldn’t help it. Like Jess, he’d taken to his job as spy, even craved it sometimes.
It’s a stupid rule anyway, Beazle added. They should be allowed visitors.
Jess agreed. She didn’t like stupid rules and felt few qualms about breaking them.
Daughter of Winter will be available soon.
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