Chapter 6

Wyl sat in a tiny, elevated courtyard known as the Orangery, which cunningly trapped the sun, encouraging its fruit trees to grow luxuriantly behind Stoneheart’s impenetrable walls. The fragrance of the blossoms was heady and Wyl loved the tranquility of this place, as did Ylena, whose suite of rooms overlooked it. He could never accuse Magnus of not following through on his promise to their father. Ylena lived in quiet splendor with maidservants to tend her needs, among a glorious series of chambers and this courtyard, which Magnus had designed and built for the little girl who came to him all those years ago.

The daughter I never had, he had once whispered to her and she loved him for it. Had loved him ever since. Ylena had never forgotten her father’s love but it had been taken from her so early that she had found it relatively simple to transfer it to his highly influential friend, who showered her with gifts and beautiful gowns and just about anything a noble’s daughter could wish for.

Wyl awaited his sister, his mind clouded in thought. A black dog sat patiently beside him. his mournful eyes staring up at Wyl. occasionally nudging his hand to remind him of his presence. Wyl stroked the large head absently and Knave complained softly at being so ignored by his master. He dropped his beloved ball, fashioned by Ylena from old linens, stockings, and wool, in the vain hope that Wyl might kick it and begin one of their games.

The dog’s ears pricked at the sound of a footfall.

“Looking for a game. Knave?” asked Ylena as she appeared fresh and primped from her rooms, her spicy fragrance mingling with the courtyard’s perfume. She duly kicked the ball and sent Knave leaping after it. “Hello, Wyl,” she said, tweaking her brother’s ear and planting a kiss on his coarse red head.

He pulled her close, loving the joy she found in simple pleasures and hating himself for bringing news to ruin her perfect day.

“You even smell like our mother,” he commented, kissing her on the cheek.

Ylena sighed. “I wish I could remember her as you do. I’m wearing her perfume.”

“It’s lovely.”

“Father gave it to me so many moons ago. He said I was to wear it on my wedding night. I’ve saved it all this time and yet felt reckless today and dabbed a little on. Do you think he’ll like it?” she asked shyly.

“Who?”

“Prince Celimus of course!” she said, making an exasperated expression that changed immediately to one of concern at the way Wyl started at that name. “Alyd, you fool—my husband-to-be. Who else could I mean?”

Wyl felt relieved that the subject had been raised inadvertently. He opened his mouth to say what he had rehearsed in his mind but Ylena interrupted him. reaching over to talk to Knave.

“You daft dog, you still have that silly red ball.”

“And woe betide anyone who touches it,” Wyl said affectionately.

“Other than you, of course,” she replied. “What is it between you and this dog, Wyl? He strikes the very fear of the devil into almost everyone at Stoneheart and yet he’s like a puppy around you.”

“And you.”

“Yes. but it’s passing strange, isn’t it?”

“Not really. He lost Myrren when he was a baby and then I came along out of the blue.” Wyl wanted to add that it was probably similar to how Ylena transferred her love from Fergys to Magnus. Instead he shrugged and scratched the dog’s ears. “I was the next best thing he had.”

“Whatever made you follow her instructions?” Ylena wondered.

“I’m not sure in truth. I felt somehow compelled and perhaps a little obliged after all her suffering. She said he was a gift and I was to use him wisely.”

“Do you understand what she meant?”

Wyl shook his head.

“What happened to her family?”

“I heard the father died on the morning the Witch Stalkers came for her. The mother was addled when we met. She listened to my tale and handed me the dog without another word. I don’t know what became of her but the house was all packed up when I visited and I presumed her mother was leaving town. She was probably glad to be rid of the burden of the pup.”

“Very strange.” Ylena admitted. “I’m just glad Knave sees me as friend and not foe.” Then she lowered her voice before adding: “He hates Celimus most of all, of course, but then I think he gets that from you.”

“Hush,” Wyl admonished.

“No one’s around.”

“Even Stoneheart’s thick walls have ears.”

“Well, it’s true. I think Knave hates anyone you don’t like. Think about it, he barely tolerates others who mean little to you but is loyal to those you love. How’s that for a fine philosophy?” she said, kicking the red ball, much to the dog’s surprised delight.

Their conversation was interrupted by one of Ylena’s maids announcing the arrival of Alyd. His expression was bleak as he kissed Ylena’s hand.

“Whatever is wrong with you, Alyd Donal? One would think the King had denied permission to our marriage.”

“Have you told her?” Alyd asked Wyl, who shook his head.

“Told me what?” Ylena’s eyes moved between two grim expressions.

“Ylena…” Wyl began.

“Wait!” she said. “This sounds bad.” She called to her maid and asked for a spiced cordial to be brought immediately. The maid returned quickly, and Ylena drank her small helping down in one gulp.

“Right. I’m presuming this is connected with our wedding. Tell me,” she commanded, her throat burning from the liquor.

Wyl started again. He told her what he knew and of his suspicions. She felt for Alyd’s steadying hand as Wyl bowed his head and finished with: “All that’s standing between you and the bed of Celimus is my sword.”

“But I’ve never done him a wrong.” she said.

“You’ve never done anyone a wrong, my beloved,” Alyd comforted. “This is not about you. This is about hurting Wyl…and your family name.”

“Are we sure of this?” she asked.

“No,” Wyl admitted. “But I know how his mind works. He knows how best to damage me.”

Ylena shook her head. “Why does he hate you so much, Wyl?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, not wanting to repeat what he had learned from the King.

“I do,” Alyd admitted. “It’s because the King is so fond of you.” And when Wyl shook his head in denial, he added: “Everyone’s seen it. He had to grow up around the inseparable friendship of your father and his. Now you come along and steal the affection that rightly belongs to Celimus.”

Wyl shrugged. He did not want to admit that Alyd’s argument was. in all probability, very sound. “And so. Ylena, by taking what’s so precious from you he humiliates the sister I adore, creating despair for my best friend and a chance to fire my anger sufficiently for an all-out confrontation.”

“I see,” she said. “Well, I won’t cooperate. I’d sooner die.”

Alyd nodded. “And although I’m no match for him. I swear I would gladly die trying to stop him laying a finger on you. Wyl. I’ve been thinking about how we can get Ylena away from here. My intention is to—”

Wyl shook his head. “Alyd, stop! I’ve told you, there is no escape. Celimus is not one for being thwarted. It would be a cruel blow to his ego not to attain something he has set his heart on—and taking Ylena in the way he imagines is a master stroke guaranteed to hurt both you and me. No, he would hunt you down as easy as blinking. And he is in no hurry. You would be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your lives. The fear of being caught at every turn will destroy any chance of true happiness.”

“Then what? What can we do?” Ylena’s voice was shaking.

“We have to be smarter than he is, more cunning.” Wyl stood and walked to one of the orange trees, inhaling its freshness and stealing a few moments to convince himself his plan could be done.

He turned back to them. “I have a plan. It was a comment from the King which seeded it in my mind, and we have only what’s left of today and tomorrow to make it work.”

They listened.