Dearest (22 page)

“Odette!” cried Elisa.

“I bloody love that woman,” said Bernard.

“Quickly!” cried Christian.

Elisa stirred the air in the room, setting the two swans aloft. In a whisper, they had cleared the porthole. Tristan watched them speed into the horizon with the fate of Kassora strapped to their backs. Silently he wished them well, and prayed that Fate wished the same thing.

15

F
RIDAY DIDN’T EXACTLY
run from the base of the tower to her room, but her brisk walk left her almost breathless by the time she arrived. She removed Monday’s fancy ball gown with some difficulty and shoved it into the back of the wardrobe. She put on a clean linen shirt and a patchwork skirt and ran her hands through her hair, haphazardly scattering the ribbons and fading flowers onto the floor.

She paused by the window to frown into the sunrise. Arilland still looked the same as it had before the heirs of Kassora had arrived; there was no reason to expect it to appear any different now that Tristan had stood her up. Surely he’d had his reasons for not being there, first and foremost his family. Friday, too, might have abandoned her liaison with a new crush for the sake of her family, if it came to that. He would find her this morning; he would come to her and apologize and she would forgive him, just as she forgave everyone.

This was the greatest disadvantage of seeing the best in people: for the most part, they inevitably disappointed you. But sometimes, rare times, faith in a person was all it took for him to achieve greatness. Those times were why Friday never stopped believing. Determined as ever, she straightened her shoulders and went to collect the children.

As she opened the door to leave, Conrad came rushing through, almost toppling her over in his haste. “I’m sorry, milady, I can’t find him anywhere.”

She could feel Conrad’s exhaustion, a sapping of strength that meant he had run from one end of the castle to the other, possibly more than once. This wasn’t exactly what she’d expected.

“Gone? Surely he hasn’t just
vanished
. Have you asked the rest of his family?” He was a smart boy; of course he had. “What did they say?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. None of them—not Elisa nor her brothers—are anywhere on the castle grounds. I’ve searched everywhere.”

Stunned, Friday plopped down into the chair closest to her. “Maybe they went after Philippe. Tristan told me that he’d walked out on them earlier. He was incredibly mad, and hell-bent on exacting his revenge on Mordant immediately. I could feel the hatred pouring out of him when we were on the shore, after the curse was broken.”

“They all went after him?” asked Conrad. “Even Elisa and the swans?”

Her squire was right. Friday closed her eyes to think, and then snapped them open again. “You don’t suppose they’ve gone home already, do you?”

Conrad shook his head. “With no preparation? With no word to anyone? Especially you . . .” Friday put up a hand, and whatever else Conrad meant to say faded into nothing.

“I fell asleep,” he said instead.

“As did I,” said Friday. “It was a long night.”

“Friday, I’m a trained messenger. I don’t just fall asleep. Especially when I’m tasked with keeping an eye on a particular subject.”

That much was true; even Mordant’s Infidel had not managed to disappear from beneath Conrad’s watchful gaze, and Friday had asked her squire to watch over Tristan when she could not. Friday wondered how a young man acquired such training. And where. And why. “I warned you that extraordinary events surrounded my family.”

“You did,” admitted Conrad.

“Do you not think it reasonable that we both succumbed to exhaustion after the events of the past few days?”

“Yes, but Friday—”

John, Wendy, and Michael burst into the room. Wendy threw herself into Friday’s arms in greeting; Friday hugged the enthusiastic girl back tightly, wishing that some of Wendy’s innocent hopefulness would rub off on her. Friday winced at Ben the Extremely Loud’s enthusiastic barking.

“Good morning, Friday.”

“Good morning, John.”

“Did you sleep all right? You don’t look well.”

Friday attempted to distract both herself and the children by standing Wendy up and straightening her dress for her. “I imagine it will take me a bit before I’ve caught up after . . . the excitement of the past few days. Would you all help me collect the flock and get work started this morning? I would be ever so grateful.”

Michael wasted no time. “Where’s Tristan?”

Friday answered honestly. “I don’t know.”

“He’s gone,” Conrad said.

“No, he’s not,” said Michael.

Friday’s heart skipped a beat. “You’ve seen him?”

“No, but he’s not gone. He can’t be. You would know if he was.”

Friday cocked her head. “Why do you say that?”

Michael shrugged. “Because he promised.”

Friday froze. Tristan had indeed made that exact promise to the boy, right in front of her. He wasn’t the type of man to go back on his word. And if that were true, if he and his brothers hadn’t left to chase Philippe or return to the Green Isles of their own accord . . .

. . . then something was very, very wrong. She turned to Conrad. “You and I falling asleep. You think it was magic, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“So do I.” Friday stood and made her way to the door of her chamber. “I’m sorry, my darlings. I have to go.”

“Can I come?” asked Michael.

John held his brother back. “We’ll see that all the children wake up and get started on their chores. Go.”

Friday didn’t need much prompting. She turned on her heel and sped down the carpet to the Great Hall with Conrad close behind.

Sunday and Rumbold were very awake and very occupied upon her arrival, settling a particularly vociferous dispute between a merchant and a landowner. The Grand Marshal ushered her into the salon and promised to get word of her arrival to their majesties with all due haste. Friday sent Conrad to fetch Monday, Peter, and Papa while she waited. And then she paced. And paced. And paced some more. After a while, she began to tidy up the room, fluffing pillows and shaking out the curtains to keep herself occupied. She was moments away from rearranging the furniture when the door opened and the Woodcutters came pouring in.

“What is it, Friday?” Rumbold asked, eager to get to the point.

Sunday held up a hand. “Before that, let me first thank you for rescuing us from that never-ending battle. If those two men waste any more of this country’s time, I’m ordering them both to . . . to . . .”

“Clean the dungeon,” Conrad offered as he entered the salon, followed by the rest of the Woodcutters.

“Perfect.” Sunday snapped her fingers. “Exactly that.”

“Where’s your boy?” Peter asked Friday. At Papa’s stare he continued more politely, “I assumed you’d be spending the day with him.”

“Tristan is gone. They all are.” Friday’s comment was met with the same stunned silence she’d felt all morning. “There’s something wrong. There must be.”

Rumbold and Sunday exchanged looks.

“He didn’t strike me as the sort of person to vanish off into the night,” said Sunday.

Rumbold folded his arms. “Think about it, though. What would you do if you suddenly had the chance to save your kingdom from a madman and his gang? Would you wait patiently to consult with your new friends? No offense,” he said to Friday, who felt her face flush.

“I did hear that his younger brother ran off last night in quite a huff,” said Sunday.

“It’s true,” said Velius. “I never saw him again after he left the training grounds. Perhaps they’ve just gone after him.”

“We considered these as well,” said Friday. “But—”

“He promised,” finished Conrad. “He promised the children that he wouldn’t do anything without asking Friday’s permission first. Especially something as rash as leaving without supplies.”

Monday clucked her tongue and took Friday’s hand. “Friday, dearest. It wouldn’t be the first time a man gave a woman an empty promise.”

Friday wrenched her hand away. Her family meant well, but she needed to make them understand. “He wouldn’t have left me. We have a bond.” The pressure of that bond still weighed heavy in her chest. “We’re meant to be together. Papa, you wouldn’t have left Mama without telling her why, would you?” She turned to Rumbold. “Nor would you have ever left Sunday.”

Rumbold looked deeply into his wife’s sky-blue eyes. “I might if it meant saving my people,” he said. “If it meant coming back a hero and proving myself to the one I love.”

Sunday read all she needed to in that comment before turning to Friday. “It’s true.”

Friday couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The
Woodcutter
family refused to believe in something? Could this be some part of Gana’s foul magic as well? Each of them faced her, as if they might attack at any moment. The only one standing by her side was Conrad. Thank the gods for Conrad.

Friday took a step back. “He did not leave me,” Friday said adamantly. “Something happened to him. Something happened to them all, and I’ll bet my needle it’s Mordant’s doing.”

“Even if it was, what could we do?” Rumbold asked.

Papa considered the situation. “Peter and I have finished the ship.”

Friday felt a glimmer of hope flutter in her belly, but she refused to fuel it falsely.

“We need that ship to find relief for Arilland. Our country is on the verge of collapsing under the weight of all these people.” Rumbold sighed and turned to Friday. “Do you have any proof—hard proof—that the heirs of Kassora left under some sort of duress?”

Other than Tristan mysteriously vanishing and going back on his word, or a curious instance of oversleeping? No. “Do you have proof that they did not?” Friday countered.

Sunday threw up her hands. “It’s like arguing with Mama.”

Friday raised her chin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Papa actually chuckled at the exchange.

Rumbold bowed his head in defeat. “I’ll send out the ship at first light. If you like, you may travel with them.”

“And me,” Conrad said quickly.

“And you,” added Rumbold. “But the ship’s main purpose will be to find ports from which we can acquire food and other supplies. I can’t go sending this country’s best hope of survival on some wild swan chase.”

Then what was the point of going? But Friday had to try. She had to do
something
.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” said Monday.

“I have to,” Friday said to her. And then to Rumbold, “Thank you. We’ll be ready at first light.”

The rest of the day was torture. Friday would have used the opportunity to catch up on all the sleep she’d lost, but she feared the horrible visions of certain death that wouldn’t stop running through her mind. She concentrated on the children, seeing to the babies and the laundry and the games and the collection of what little food was left to scavenge on the castle grounds. She did not let herself stop to rest where she usually did; the pond by the willow tree was now as empty as her heart. Nor could she bring herself to visit the guards’ training grounds, or Cook’s herb garden. When Friday needed to pause, she sat herself on a blanket out in the middle of the field where the children played, beneath the merciless eye of the sun. She figured it was best to prepare herself—there would be no shade on the ship.

There would be little packing for this sea voyage; she didn’t own many articles of clothing these days. Perhaps Sunday would allow her some coin to trade for what she’d need when they found port. How long did it take a ship to cross to the sea beyond the Troll Kingdom? Weeks? Months? She’d bring a trunk of raw materials and spend her time wisely, sewing and mending and making herself useful to the crew.

“I want to go.”

Ben the Intrusive’s bark snapped Friday out of her reverie. “What?”

“If Conrad gets to go, I’m going too.” Michael stood with his hands on his hips and his tiny chest thrust out defiantly. Ben barked again. “And Ben too.”

“Oh, my darling,” Friday sighed. “Who said anyone was going anywhere?”

Michael was not having any of her subterfuge. “All the children know. It’s why they haven’t been bothering you today; Elaine and Evelyn told everyone to let you alone and come to them instead if they had a problem. You’re leaving on your Papa’s ship tomorrow to find Tristan.”

Friday considered recommending Michael to Rumbold as a spy. As it seemed he already had all the facts, there was no use glossing over the truth for him. “I’ve been invited to join the crew, yes, but the mission is to find food and supplies for our people. There is a very slim chance we’ll even hear about Tristan.” But she wanted to be there when they did. If they did.

“Your chances are better if you bring me along.”

Friday tousled Michael’s hair and pulled him into a hug that sent Ben hopping around them in wild fits. “I wish I could bring all of you,” she said into his neck. When she released him, she looked him straight in the eye. “I need you here, to make sure things run smoothly. I don’t know how bad this situation’s going to get, and I need you to keep everyone in good spirits.” Look at her, delegating tasks like a true leader! Tristan would be proud of her.

“Why me?”

“Don’t you know? The children look up to you, Michael. Because you are brave.” Friday looked down at Ben. “You even have a squire. You’re practically a knight already.”

Michael’s face burst into a brilliant smile at this, and he galloped away on his invisible horse, brandishing his invisible sword to beat invisible foes. Friday’s foes were far less invisible. She hoped she wasn’t sending herself on a fool’s errand.

The sun lingered in the sky, postponing the inevitable, but eventually it set itself to rest, as all things must. Friday should have been excited about a sea voyage, an adventure, a trip into the unknown, but that was Thursday’s territory. Or Saturday’s. Friday was content with . . . well . . . being content. She enjoyed her quiet little life. She was a seamstress, not a seaman. She pulled everything out of the wardrobe except the white ball gown and laid it out on the bed.

She ate the light meal Conrad had delivered to her room, and changed into her nightdress far earlier than usual so that she could spend all her remaining time with her Darlings. She played games with John, Wendy, and Michael, wrestled with Ben, and told them a few of her favorite Papa stories. Conrad even contributed a few stories of his own, dark tales of endless sands and priceless treasures and young men who defeated demons with nothing more than their wits.