The Maid's War (Kingfountain 0.5)

Alensson hurried to the corpses and found the one with the badge. After a quick search, he discovered the key ring and hurried over. His hands were shaking, his fingers clumsy as he tried to force the key into the lock. It was difficult to twist the cold metal, but he finally managed to free the bar that locked the cuffs together. His eyes fell to the frozen blood on her wrists.

“It’s not painful,” she said, shaking her head. She looked like a child who was half-awake, groggy at the first rise. Alensson put his arm around her and then lifted her up and carried her to the brazier. The tongues of flames were lashing violently in the wind. He set her down in front of it and then unfastened one of the soldier’s cloaks to wrap it around himself.

The sound of her teeth chattering reminded him they were still in danger. “I was waiting for you at the cave,” he said. “I should have waited here. I . . . I had a feeling.”

“No,” she responded. “I asked you to wait for me there. You did the right thing.”

“If I’d come sooner—”

“Shhhh,” she soothed. “If you’d come sooner, you would have been killed, Alensson. I didn’t want that.”

He stared at her in wonderment. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “I must fulfill the mission the Fountain gave me. I chose this, Gentle Duke. I knew I would die here . . . tonight . . . on this lonely mountain.”

“You are not going to die!” he snarled furiously.

“And I knew you would be here with me. Holding vigil until the last. I knew that when I first saw you. When we first met.” A shy smile came over her mouth. “I have done what the Fountain bade me to do. You have always been there for me, Alensson. Giving me strength. Having you near me has made the burden easier.”

“Why are you talking like this?” Alensson said in frustration. “I’ve rescued you. I’m going to take you down from this mountain. I will get you back to Occitania. You must come with me, Genette, or my child will die!”

A look of sadness passed over her. “I know, Alensson. I know he will.” She let out a trembling sigh. “He will be stillborn. Do you remember what I told you?”

“You said you knew the word. You said there was a word of power that could revive him.”

She nodded. “Not your son, Gentle Duke. The heir. Your time as Duke of La Marche is over.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was very gentle. “You will have no children. You never will. There is another the Fountain will put in your place. It has always been so. A future duke. A babe stillborn. He is the one I saw in my vision. The babe will come when you are about to die. You must know this, Gentle Duke. Your pain, our suffering”—she reached out and squeezed his hand—“has saved the lives of countless of our countrymen. They will never know what we did for them. They will never say thank you. They will, eventually, forget your name. But I will not forget you. You were the one who gave me courage to carry my burden. Remember this, Gentle Duke. Remember this when you are trapped in the king’s palace in Pree.” She reached up and touched his face. “One night, a poisoner will come to you. She will not come to kill you. You will tell her our story so that she can save the heir’s life. Our story will give her courage to do what must be done.” She squeezed his hand and then leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

He was startled by all she had said and found it impossible to react to the news with words. Grief, sadness, resentment, despair all buffeted inside him. He wanted to shake his fist at the sky; he wanted to lament the cruelty of his life. Then he felt her lips brush against the edge of his eyebrow. “Tardemaw,” she whispered. It was a word of power.

A feeling of heaviness slammed into him—an exhaustion so profound he could not fight it. He collapsed into a puddle of melting snow.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The Maid's Grave





As Alensson slept, he dreamed. He knew it was a dream, for only in dreams were the colors so vibrant. He was walking in a garden, listening to the babbling of fountain waters. The sky was such a clear blue, he imagined he could reach up and stir it like a pond. Butterflies flittered with exquisite wings, light and free, and the birds had heartbreakingly bright plumage—red, orange, purple, yellow. The ground was spongy, a woven mass of grass so thick and soft it was like walking on a cloud. It was strange how slowly the awareness stole over him before he noticed the young woman walking at his side.

It was Genette, he realized, and she was smiling at him peacefully.

“Where are we?” he asked, amazed at the butterfly that landed on her outstretched hand.

“It’s an in-between place, Gentle Duke,” she said. “In between dreams and awake. In between life and death. It’s one of the gardens of the Fountain.”

“Am I dreaming?” he asked, amazed at the fresh, sweet smell of the grass. It felt as if his entire being was keenly attuned to the sensations around him.

“Of course you are,” she answered. “It is the stuff of dreams.”

Memories stirred sluggishly in his mind. Memories of a cold mountaintop, frigid snow, leaden feet. But it was all fuzzy and far away. There was something wrong in his heart, some hidden grief that he could not quite remember. It lay buried beneath an overwhelming sense of peace.

“Am I dying?” he asked her.

Then he noticed she wasn’t wearing the soldier’s tunic he’d so often seen on her. No, she was dressed in the simple frock of a peasant girl from Donremy. Her hair was long and dark, but there were little hints of gold in it. Had it always been so, or were his powers of observation different here? The bruises and smudges on her skin were gone. She looked comfortable and calm as she strode barefoot in the grass beside him. She was the picture of innocence, and a protective, gentle feeling swelled in his heart.

“No, Gentle Duke. I asked a gift of the Fountain before I died. I wanted to bring you here.”

He was confused. “Before you died?”

She nodded, her hair bouncing slightly. “When I was young and first began hearing the water sounds of the Fountain, I would close my eyes and imagine what it was like. In my visions, I was always brought here, to this garden. This is where I learned to hear the whispers. This in-between place was just as much my home as Donremy. I tried to share it with others, but none believed me. None trusted me enough to let me take them here. I was the only one who could see it. Sometimes, when I was younger, I wondered if I was sick for seeing these visions that no one else could.” She gave him a delighted smile. “Before I died, I asked the Fountain to let me show you.”

He felt a rush of gratitude and intense emotions swell inside him. “When I awaken . . . you’ll be gone.”

She nodded cheerfully. “It is difficult being so different. To be the only one who hears or sees. Thank you for believing in me. It meant so much to me to have someone else believe in me.”

He smiled at her, but felt on the verge of tears. “I won’t see you again.”