She shifted her eyes to the window, saying slowly, “Whatever the reason, they’ve tripled the king’s presence in Zone Seven. It isn’t good.” She frowned and continued, “I’m not sure I want you going back to Dyter’s until they’re gone. Not with him having those meetings there.”
“But they could be here for months,” I protested. “Besides, I’m skill-less Ryn. Everyone knows that.” And the rebel leader is coming tomorrow night. I was smart enough not to tell her that.
My quip made her smile, but she pursed her lips and shook her head. She placed the lantern down and came to sit next to me. “You’re anything but skill-less, baby.”
“Young lady,” I corrected. “We agreed.”
“My young lady-baby,” she replied.
We smiled at each other.
Her gaze dropped to where my feet were pulled up tight against my body on the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I replied quickly.
Everyone knew Lord Irrik could hide under beds at night, or anywhere else that was dark, and if my feet were off the bed, he would drag me underneath and I’d die a slow, horrible death.
“The Drae were once our saviors. They kept us safe from invasion. They were a loyal and honorable race.”
Mum had told me stories of the Drae since I was a baby. But they were myths, bedtime stories with lessons mixed in. The Drae were supposedly peacekeepers, self-sacrificing, generous with their skills, and did their best to serve humanity. But the emperor, who was also Drae, was greedy and tried to force them to join his war. He betrayed his own kind, having them slaughtered for their refusal to help him rule the world.
“Don’t forget the Drae boy,” she said with a quirk of her lips, referencing one such story of self-sacrifice. She then smoothed her expression and said, “We should go work some of the gardens in Harvest Zone Two.”
The opposite side of the kingdom. We’d be gone for at least two weeks. “Right,” I drew out. I did not want to miss my only chance to meet Cal. “And I’m coming?”
“I got a message from Bratrik. Their crops are failing. They need our help.”
I shook my head. “Your help, not mine.”
“Fourteen children died last week. There are dozens of gardens to visit. You know I can’t do it all on my own. Who else would haul dirt?” she asked with a smirk.
The tension in the room dissipated, and just like that, mother erased my disappointment. I’d help the children. Of course, I would.
“Funny,” I chirped, resigned to my fate. “We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m soap queen of Verald. I won’t be hauling your dirt then.”
She laughed, and the sound was my absolute favorite. It was delighted and youthful and carefree, and it lifted my mood to match hers. Another talent of my mother’s.
“When will we leave for Zone Two?” I yawned.
“I’ll need a day to make ready, so two days. Why?”
Yes! Thank the moons she was such a planner. “I need to ready my entourage; that’s why.”
“Al’right, soap queen,” she said with a grin. “It’s time for bed.” She swept up her lantern and blew me a kiss. “Goodnight, lady-baby.”
“Night, Mum.”
I kicked off my boots and held my breath as they fell into the danger zone off the bed. Faster than your eyes can track, with talons that can fell a tree in one swoop. I didn’t dare change into my nightclothes and leave the safety of bed island. Snuggling under the quilt, the adrenaline of the day waned and my eyes grew heavy. I was hovering just barely on the edges of consciousness when my mother’s next words drifted to me from the doorway. “I checked under the bed earlier. You’ll always be safe.”
4
“Hey, lady-baby, I need you to take a delivery to Arnik’s mother this morning, and one to Talryna in the Money Coil. I forgot there are three orders to fill, and I need to stop by Pru’s.” Mum set a basket on the table next to me and ran her hand over my long, cinnamon-colored hair. The table was set with two plates, two forks, and two glasses filled with honeyed milk. Someone must’ve paid Mum with it.
“I can lower myself to grant this boon.” I tipped my nose up and sniffed. The scent of lavender from the soap basket was stronger than whatever Mum had concocted for our breakfast.
She mussed my hair with her wet hands. “My thanks, soap queen. I’ve got deliveries all day today, but I’ll be back before curfew. We should wash your hair tonight, too.” She stepped back toward the stove and flipped the contents of the pan. She pointed the spatula at me and said, “Make sure you’re back. No matter what’s happening with Dyter, you need to be home before curfew with the patrols out.”
I nodded, trying to peek at our meal. I didn’t care about my hair. In fact, the stuff Mum used to wash it made it all stiff and gross. No, what was important to me right then were the glasses of milk because if we were having milk, there might be something else tasty.
“We’ll leave tomorrow at first light. It’ll take us two days to cross the Quota Fields.”
“We’re not taking the Market Circuit?” I asked. The paved ring road went through all twelve Harvest Zones and was the easiest way to travel.
Verald was shaped like a bull’s-eye and split into twelve wedges, called Harvest Zones. In the mountainous center of the kingdom was King Irdelron’s castle. The flat band of space immediately surrounding the castle took up the most space in the kingdom and belonged to the dry Quota Fields where the farmers worked. The next band out was the Market Circuit, which was the road running through the twelve Harvest Zone wedges. The wealthiest families lived closest to the Market Circuit in the next band, and their public houses, taverns, and trade shops were here as well. We peasants called the place where the wealthy hung out the Money Coil. The next band out from the Money Coil was named the Inbetween, a space for those who were on the fringes of wealth. And then the uneven very outer band of the kingdom where the rest of us lived was referred to as the Penny Wheel. As a rule, the closer to the king you were, the more he cared about you. That was why his food source was closest and his workers farthest away.
The Crane’s Nest was one of the only taverns outside the Coil in the entire kingdom. Dyter was on the very outskirts of the Inbetween, which was why he took payment of any kind, not just coin, like in the Money Coil.
“What’s for breakfast?” I asked Mum, trying to peek.
“You’ll see if you wait one second.”
She brought our plates to the table, and my stomach grumbled.
Breakfast was one potato pancake each and a small serving of sweet apple mash. Better than gruel, at least. Mum set her lavender-flower syrup on the table beside my plate. There was just enough for both of us—practically a feast with the milk.
A feast that was gone in less than a dozen savored bites, but a feast nevertheless.
Eating done, I washed the dishes, went back to my room to grab my boots, which somehow survived Lord Irrik under my bed overnight—not even a chew mark—and swiped up the basket. Calling a goodbye over my shoulder, I shook my head as I watched my mother ladle the dishwater into jars to water the garden.