Cryos & Jade- Secrets Read online

  Cryos & Jade

  Secrets

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  Other works by Luke T. Barnett

  Half-Orc Redemption

  Cryos & Jade

  Cryos & Jade Labyrinth

  Cryos & Jade Whispers

  Secrets

  “Beverly?”

  Beverly blinked her eyes open to her father’s searching gaze.

  “Forgive me, Father,” she said, rubbing her face. “I am awake.”

  Her father set down the paper he had been holding on the desk before her.

  “I dare say you are not,” he said. “Sir Merrik has told me of your slipping focus at swordplay. You are not sleeping well. Is there something troubling you?”

  His eyes were full of compassion. What would he say if she were to tell him she had defied his wishes and entered the keep of the necromancer? That she brought home a living gargoyle to be her protector? That they had gone out every other night for a fortnight exploring the island that was their kingdom? Would he be furious? Patient? Stern?

  “You know that you can tell me anything,” he said, a hand on her shoulder.

  She lowered her head to stare at the legal document in front of her, her fingers fiddling with its edges.

  He trusts me. I'll only disappoint him, anger him.

  Another voice inside her spoke up.

  You’re already doing that by neglecting your duties. So what’s the difference? Just tell him and be done with it.

  She turned her face to him and opened her mouth to speak. His smile was trusting. Shame and guilt covered her. She closed her mouth and looked back to the document.

  “I’m all right, Father,” she said. “My thoughts have just been…occupied…with the kingdom.”

  That much is true, she thought.

  “What of the kingdom, my daughter?”

  Beverly bit her lip, and she chanced a test.

  “Father,” she said, turning on her stool to face him. “Have you thought about…expanding our kingdom, into the forest, I mean.”

  His smile faded and Beverly’s heart sank.

  “Beverly, our kingdom is at peace. We have room to spare for the commoners in the village. There is no need to expand. We are stable.”

  “We are stagnant.”

  Her eyes went wide and she clamped her mouth shut. She must truly be exhausted. She would never have let her mouth slip like that before the king.

  Her father stood straighter and crossed his arms, his face questioning.

  “What do you mean by this?”

  No going back now, she told herself. Might as well push for it.

  “Since I was a child, our kingdom has not advanced in any way. Our laws, our economy, and especially our territory. I’ve seen it in my studies and I’ve watched as the forest is kept at a strict border.”

  “You know why the forest is off limits.”

  “Ixtus is dead! He has been for a hundred years. What are you so afraid of?”

  “Mind your tongue, young lady. I am not afraid of anything. I know what evil lies in that forest. I’ll not have you nor any other soul lost in its branches.”

  Beverly fumed.

  Why won’t he listen to me?

  She did her best to remain calm. It took all of her will to keep from blurting out what she had done.

  “We need to grow,” she said, “to expand, to explore.”

  “We need no such thing!”

  Beverly started. The king took a moment to compose himself and then replied in a calm tone.

  “Think about this, Beverly. What is so wrong with maintaining what we have? We are safe. We are comfortable.”

  “We are dying!”

  This time her father started.

  “If you don’t grow, you shrink. You shrivel up until you’re reduced to nothing but a shell; a shadow of who you were so numb with routine that you don’t even know who you are anymore!”

  She hadn’t noticed until then the hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Her hands were shaking and balled into tight fists. Her breaths were tight. She tried to calm herself down, but she felt like screaming.

  “Beverly, what is—”

  “You don’t even know!” She was screaming now and couldn’t stop herself. On her life, she couldn’t stop.

  “You don’t even know your own subjects! You just sit up here in your castle and say everything's fine! Well everything’s not fine, Father! And you won’t even do anything about it!”

  “What madness has taken you? What are you saying?”

  Beverly wiped her face as more tears fell to replace them.

  “Just forget it, Father. Just forget everything.”

  Before he could say another word, Beverly stormed out of the room.

  ***

  The door to the princess’s chambers opened. Beverly stormed in, slamming the door behind her. Cryos could see fat tears streaming down her face. “What is wrong?”

  He surprised himself with the question. Beverly was half-way out of her gown before she even reached her privacy screen.

  “Nothing,” she said, her anger clear in her voice.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Your highness?” Came a male voice. “The problem with the stable master persists. He says you have not addressed his grievance.”

  It was Tarn, the castle steward. One of Beverly’s duties was to oversee the castle’s daily operations and quell disputes. But she was in no mood.

  “Go away!” she snapped, poking her head out from behind her screen. “I will see to it in my time and not before!”

  When no objection came, she ducked back out of sight. She emerged a moment later in a lengthy shift. Her face was haggard.

  “You are tired,” Cryos stated.

  “And?” Beverly asked as she moved to the window.

  “You should sleep.”

  “That hasn’t been working out too well as of late. I can’t force myself to sleep, Cryos. And I can’t stave off nightmares.”

  “You have had more?”

  Beverly growled. “No, I haven’t. Not like I had been having. This may surprise you, but sometimes humans just can’t fall asleep. Especially when there’s a lot on their mind.”

  “I do not under—”

  “It means I’ve been thinking! Thinking about a lot of things. It hasn’t even been a sevenday since we stopped going out at night and I already feel stifled, like the walls are pressing about me, waiting to cave in on me. It’s always there. It simply won’t leave me alone. Just like—”

  She turned to face him and stopped mid-sentence.

  “Nevermind,” she said, crossing the room. “I’ll be fine.” She pulled out of a chest a pair of britches and a tunic and donned them. “I just need a reprieve and a chance to forget—”

  The door to her chambers burst opened, and a soldier entered and kneeled. Beverly had only just pulled up her britches.

  “Your majesty!”

  Beverly glanced at Cryos who had resumed his pose and then looked at the soldier.

  “How dare you barge into my chambers—“

  “Forgive my intrusion, your majesty, but there is a ship of refugees from Dorlain arriving at port. My Lord Captain sent me with all haste.”

  Beverly swallowed and turned away.

  “I…I'm sure Dalros and the guard can…”

  She trailed off, knowing what she was about to say was a lie.

  “Ugh! Fine! See that my horse is prepared. And tell Dalros I shall be there momentarily.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  The guard rose and retreated out of the room, closing the door behind
him.

  Beverly sighed and put her head in her hands.

  “I don't want to be doing this,” she muttered.

  Sucking in a breath, she stood straight, belying the air of nobility. That seemed to help, but as she pushed on her boots and stood, the fatigue was already returning to her face.

  Without so much as a glance at Cryos, she went to the door and walked out, closing it behind her.

  ***

  On her way to the stable, Beverly stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a couple honey cakes that the cook had prepared for breakfast. She neglected the meal earlier and now she was ravenous. She stuffed one of the delicious pastries in her mouth and put the other and a slice of mutton in her pockets.

  “My lady?”

  Beverly turned around to find Aldrea, the cook, standing before her, a heavy bag hoisted on her plump shoulder. She looked as tired and worn as Beverly felt.

  “The rats are getting at the grain again,” Aldrea said. “We need a mouser. And Mirribar has not recovered from her burns, the foolish girl. Be there help coming from the village?”

  Guilt stung at Beverly. She had known about Aldrea’s plight for some time and promised to find a cook from the village to assist in the meals as well as a mouser. But like so many other of her duties, she had forgotten about it. She attempted to speak, but realized the honeycake was still in her mouth. Removing it, she said, “I’m sorry, Aldrea, I—”

  She cut off, looking upon Aldrea’s tired face. The cook had always been kind to her, even when she made a mess of things as a child. She didn’t want to tell her she had forgotten. “I’m headed to the village now and will inquire of a cook and a mouser.”

  Aldrea nodded.

  “Please do get some sleep after that, m’lady. You look tired.” Aldrea then proceeded on her way, leaving Beverly feeling even more shamed. She tossed the honeycake aside and headed for the stables.

  The guard that had entered her chambers was there, arguing with Gar, the stablemaster. Their arguing ceased as they caught sight of the princess. Beverly noticed her horse still in its stall, unsaddled. She stood with her arms crossed, waiting for the hot-headed Gar to present his grievance. The guard bowed. Gar merely matched Beverly’s pose.

  “Thank you, soldier,” she said, “please see to my message.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  The guard trotted out of the stable.

  “You’ve been ignoring me, m’lady,” Gar told her.

  Beverly rolled her eyes and went into her horse’s stall.

  “I have told you before, Gar, do not take it to heart,” she said, saddling her mare. “I am not singling you out, I have just been busy.”

  “Aye, too busy for the likes of me, I see. Plenty of time for your friend, though.”

  Beverly froze, her blood running cold.

  No. He couldn’t know. How could he?

  She wheeled on him, trying to make her face deadpan.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She gripped the pommel with one hand to keep it from shaking, hiding the other beneath the wall.

  “You know blasted well what I’m talkin' about! You and the whore of a nursemaid! I sees you two together, laughin’ at the common folk. Brushing me off while she’s treated like she’s some kind of noble—“

  “That is enough, stablemaster! I’ll not have you insulting the servants! You are treated no differently than the rest. I will deal with your grievance against the stable conditions in due time. In the meantime, you will address me, the servants, and the guards with proper respect or you will be removed as stablemaster. Am I understood?”

  “Oh, aye, lady,” Gar said, his fat face red and his tone mocking. “I understand ye just fine.”

  Beverly glared at him a moment more before turning back to her horse. Gar didn’t say another word as she led the mare out of the stables.

  ***

  By the time she arrived, the ships had docked and refugees were pouring down the gangplanks. The docks were already full of people. Dalros took her reigns from her.

  “These are all refugees from Dorlain?” she asked.

  “No, your majesty,” Dalros answered, pointing. “Those two ships are from Dorlain. That one and the one behind it waiting to dock are from Sithrain on the coast of—”

  “I know where is Sithrain is,” Beverly said as she dismounted. “Why are we receiving refugees from that place?”

  “Orcs, m’lady.”

  Orcs? She’d heard of them. It was said they were murderous, bloodthirsty monsters. But what did they have to do with refugees from the Wildlands? As if reading her thoughts, Dalros answered.

  “Orcs of the Northlands have crossed over the North River Mountains of that land. As soon as the townsfolk in Sithrain saw them working to get past the mountains, they fled their city and came here.”

  Beverly watched the countless people streaming down the ramps and gathering in a large crowd on the docks.

  So many, she thought.

  She strode forward. Just before the docks was a large platform used for staging supplies, public announcements, and executions. A short set of stairs and a few paces brought her to the edge of the platform, facing the crowd. She would have had a herald announce her presence to gather the people’s attentions, but she had found when speaking authoritatively as Princess of Thoral Island, that her voice carried well enough.

  “Refugees from Dorlain and Sithrain,” she began, her voice carrying over the din of the crowd. The people quieted to a murmur, and all eyes turned to her.

  “I am Princess Beverly Lithos of the Greys, Heir Apparent to the throne of Thoral Island. Hear me!”

  The murmurs fell into silence.

  “Please gather with your families and remain close. Follow the instructions of the soldiers near you. They will help you locate your possessions.”

  She paused. Everywhere she saw worn and haggard faces. Her fatigue tugged at her eyes, and her body screamed at her to sleep. But her heart ached with compassion for these people.

  “I know you have travelled far and are tired and scared. Rest assured we will take care of you. Your difficulties are not yet at an end. There is much work to do. We have prepared food for you, but we must now labor to see that we do not run out. If we work together, this can be a haven and a home for you. Please come to the village elders with any concerns you have. If they cannot answer your query, then bring your problem to me. I will do my utmost to see it resolved. Welcome to Thoral Island. Men, to your duties.”

  The crowd resumed their bustle, and Beverly stepped down from the platform. She was on her way back to her horse when a young voice stopped her.

  “Your majesty.”

  A girl perhaps five years younger than her approached her, her brown hair disheveled. Her stunning sea-green eyes pleaded with Beverly to listen, her mouth hanging open.

  “Speak, I will listen,” Beverly told her.

  “Do you…do you have any… Sils here?”

  “I don't understand. What’s a Sil?”

  A man a few years older than Beverly walked up and put his arm around the girl.

  “Nevermind her, your majesty. She has a funny way of speaking. I will take care of her.”

  He moved to block her from Beverly’s view and whispered something to her. Beverly barely caught the girl’s response.

  “But, Peter, I can sense it.”

  Beverly blew out a breath and walked to her horse. She didn't have time for this.

  “Your highness,” Dalros said, handing her the reigns, “we will need to fell some of the forest to house all these people. Will you speak to the King?”

  Beverly looked back out on the gathering crowd. Here was her chance.

  “I already have,” she said. “Start with the forest North and South. Fell what seems reasonable and extra for firewood. Let none hinder you but the king himself, on my orders.”

  “Will you not be staying?”

  “I have other duties.”

  She turned h
er horse and rode away.

  ***

  “Your highness?”

  Beverly stopped before the door to her chambers. Katrice was there, her face displaying her confusion.

  “What is it, Katrice?”

  “I was just coming to make your bed. I thought you would be with the refugees.”

  “The soldiers can handle them.”

  The maid hesitated.

  “But…are you not to coordinate any of those coming to our kingdom? How will they get along without your guidance?”

  Beverly swallowed and looked away, her voice small.

  “They will…they'll have to get along without me.”

  “But, your majesty-“

  “I can't do everything, Katrice! I can’t be here in the castle and out with the refugees and out in the forest all the same t—“

  “The forest? Why would you be out in the forest? Do not tell me your nightly goings-out have you stepping foot in that wretched place.”

  Beverly stiffened, realizing how close she had come to revealing everything.

  “Just…see to your duties, Katrice.”

  She entered her chambers and shut the door, leaving Katrice gawking outside. Beverly leaned against the door, steaming.

  Why can’t she just leave me alone! She’s knows I have been going out at night. Why can’t she just leave it at that?

  Her mind sparked in revelation. Katrice did know. Why hadn’t she told the king? Surely if she had, her father would have said something. He would not have been so surprised at her reactions that morning. His wrath and displeasure would have been plain.

  She didn’t tell him. Why?

  As she stood there contemplating, her eyes drooped. Her head dipped once, and she started awake. She longed to crawl beneath the sheets of her bed.

  A knock on the door behind her reverberated through her back. She yelped and jumped away. Her face turned down into a scowl and she opened her mouth to tell whoever it was to go away.

  “Your majesty,” said a voice from the other side of the door, “Master Klador has arrived and brought the pieces you commissioned.”

  Beverly bit back her shout and opened the door.

  There stood Tarn and beside him was a short man in fine clothes, smiling through a thin beard. Two burley men bustled about, moving two short stone pillars, placing them on either side of the doorway.