Remnant of Power

Chapter Twenty-five

Breanna had her hands where her hips should be on a less plump person. "What in the name of the plague are you doing? Have you gone mad?"

Yavenna stared at Breanna for a moment. What could she say? Something would come to her. But how long would it take?

She kept staring.

"Oh! It's my maid. I remember she said her fiancé was going for a walk late last night to think about things. I remember because she thought that he might be going off her, and she came to wake me. I was just terrified that he might have been caught by the soldiers! They might not have recognized him because he's only just joined the King's guard - they wouldn't know who he was! But he's not there." She blew out a big sigh. "Goodness, Aunt Breanna, for a minute there I was really worried for her." She smiled brightly, but her heart was heavy. There'd be no relief for the families of those men.

The old woman narrowed her eyes. Yavenna got the distinct impression Breanna didn't believe her. "Hmm. You shouldn't be so friendly with your maid. Servants are a different class of person to us. I think I need to spend more time with you."

"Thank you, Aunt Breanna, that would be lovely." Yavenna rolled her eyes behind the woman's back. That meant she'd now be spending most of her time avoiding people. The King, the mage, Aunt Breanna.

Yavenna followed Breanna into the dining hall. She was hungry but she could barely eat. She put a slice of pigeon pie on a plate and stood up.

"I'm feeling rather delicate, suddenly. I can't eat now, and I, er feel I need to rest. Do excuse me, Aunt Breanna. I'll look forward to seeing you later." Ignoring the woman's billow of disapproval, Yavenna smiled weakly and plodded out of the room.

Striding into her suite, she walked over to the doors, pushing them open and stepping out onto the balcony. On this side of the castle she could look at beautiful flowers instead of shocking murder - was it wrong to try and forget the misery affecting other people? She looked down to the garden below. And saw the mage. He was sitting on a bench that she hadn't noticed before, staring up at her balcony, the stone on his staff shining like a droplet of blue fire, even in the sunlight. Yavenna spun round. Daggers, was there nowhere she could go to have some peace? She ran to the washroom and lit the heater for the water, turning it up as hot as possible. As she watched the water gush into the bath she twisted her pendant though her fingers. It was warm. After a few minutes Yavenna pulled off her clothes and sank into the nearly-scalding water.

Lying in the tub breathing in the soft scent of a vase of nearby roses, thoughts buzzed around Yavenna's head like a swarm of vicious wasps. If the mage had seen her climbing back into the castle over the balcony, she wouldn't be able to get out that way again. How would she meet Mal tonight? But would it even be possible to meet Mal? After the release of the prisoners, there would be soldiers everywhere. And really, she should concentrate on discovering why the king wanted to excavate Tarhasta. Yavenna shut her eyes and sighed, searching for peace.

But as soon as her eyes were closed she saw the men hanging from the gibbets. And immediately afterwards an image of the slaves again. Starving. Brutalized. Taken away from their families.

She opened her eyes again and slipped down in the water so it came right up to her nostrils. She felt so confused. And so alone. There was no one she could really talk to. She didn't even feel she could talk to Sharva properly anymore. And she'd had to leave Tarhasta so suddenly she'd hardly even had time to say a proper goodbye to Marco and his family. His mother had been her mother's lady-in-waiting, and after Yavenna's mother Lilian had died she'd made Yavenna part of her own family. Yavenna's father had been so caught up in his own grief he hadn't really noticed what happened to Yavenna or cared who looked after her. Strange really, that he'd been so affected, because thinking back, it didn't seem like he and her mother had been that close. Why did her mother have to die so young anyway? She missed her so much, even after ten years of being without her. They'd been inseparable.

Yavenna wiped her nose on the back of a wet hand and suddenly thought of her mother. Oh, how she wished she was here with her. She wouldn't have let her come her to marry this tyrant. Fixed in her mind, like a painting, was a memory of the last time she'd seen her mother. Her mother had lifted the pendant over her head, given it to Yavenna, and then hugged her. As her mother had taken off the pendant, her face had brightened for a moment, as if a weight had been removed, but only for a few minutes, then the sickly look had returned.

The pendant. She held the soapy lump of silver up in front of her face and stared at it. Until the last few days she'd never ever known it to heat up. She turned it over between her fingers, studying its uneven surfaces.

A sudden knock on the door made her jump.

"Yavenna, Your Highness, a footman is here. You're needed downstairs again to check some of the wedding arrangements."

"Tell him I'll only be a few minutes." She climbed out of the bath and wrapped a towel around herself. She walked up to a large gilt mirror. Sticking her chin out and her shoulders back she whispered to her reflection.

"You'd better stop all this feeling sorry for yourself, Yavenna. You're on your own, but guess what? You've never let yourself down yet. There are just two important things you've got to do; firstly, try to forget about the slaves, and secondly think of a way to get out of this marriage. So you'd better just get on with it." Tucking the towel in firmly she pushed open the door and went to get dressed.