The Crystal Heart (8 page)

‘What do you mean?' Izolda asked.

‘I had a very interesting conversation with the crew of a visiting barge, which convinced me we were safe from discovery.'

‘In what way?'

‘Wait a moment and I'll tell you,' I said, smiling at her impatience. ‘They had come from Ruvenya by way of the White City, where they'd heard all kinds of things. Funnily enough, the captain was human, and his wife was a werewolf, and –'

‘You trust the word of one of
those
?' Izolda said, with wide eyes.

‘One of
those
?' I echoed. Within moments everything had changed between us today, and truth to tell, I found it hard to concentrate on conversation when all I wanted was to take her in my arms, to smell the scent of her hair, feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her lips.

‘You said the woman was a werewolf. All the stories I've ever read say that werewolves are dangerous and unpredictable.'

‘That's because they've pretty much died out here,' I replied. ‘People always fear what they do not know.' I tapped
Tales from the Forest
. ‘When you read this book, you'll see not everyone feels the same way. The Ruvenyans, for example, respect and admire the breed. Centuries past, a werewolf saved a prince of their royal blood. And even here, long ago, humans and werewolves lived alongside one another as peacefully as with
feyin
. More so, in fact,' I added wryly, but instantly regretted it as a shadow crossed her face. What was I doing, reminding her of what separated us? ‘I'm sorry, Izolda,' I hastened on. ‘I did not mean to lecture you. What I mean is that, yes, I think the barge captain and his wife can be trusted. They had no reason to lie.'

She nodded. ‘Tell me what they said.'

‘They told me that our foreign minister has very recently visited Ruvenya. He had gone for the Ruvenyans' help in tracking down a foreign agitator who had supposedly been trying to destabilise the Krainos government, and who, it was thought, had escaped to Ruvenya.'

‘So they think that's where we've gone?'

‘I am sure of it. They said, too, that there was talk in the White City of some foreign plot that had been stopped in its tracks by the vigilance of the government.'

‘And you're quite sure there was no mention of my escape or of the island?'

‘None. Not a word. Nobody, whether local or foreign, suggested there'd been a prison-break. No one mentioned it in any way, in fact, except for Olga Ironheart, the barge
captain's wife. And that was only in connection with the toy.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘That was how we got into conversation in the first place. Taking a fancy to the figure of the old witch-woman we had made, Olga stopped by my stand. She asked me if it was meant to be the witch imprisoned on Tower Island.'

‘What? She actually said that?' Izolda exclaimed.

‘Yes. It startled me, all right,' I went on. ‘For a moment I thought she was a spy seeking to trap me. But then I realised she was making small talk. I shrugged and told her it was just a common forest witch and that no one has laid eyes on the witch in the Tower.'

‘What did she say?' breathed Izolda.

‘All she said was, “Well, I'm a foreigner, so I don't know these things.” I asked her then where she was from. She told me that, though she was Ruvenyan and her barge captain husband was Faustinian, they sailed up and down the inland waterways of the world, from Krainos to Almain and beyond, buying and selling second-hand goods. She told me they'd started in the White City three days ago, and it was then I found the right moment to ask if there was any interesting news from the city. That was when she'd told me about the minister's visit to Ruvenya. I didn't press her any further for I didn't want to arouse suspicions.

‘I traded the doll of the witch-woman for the book and art materials. We shook hands, well pleased with our trade, and I left the barge. Though it stayed moored at the quay the rest of my stay, I did not see Olga or her husband again.'

‘What happened then?'

‘Well, I managed to sell all the dolls at prices well above what I'd initially imagined. I then bought the rest of the goods, asking a careful question here and a wary one there in each store I visited. But I heard nothing of alarm. No one seemed particularly interested in the supposed foreign plot. Life was chugging along as normal in the little river port where the only excitement that month had been the arrival of the barge from the White City. I would learn nothing more, I knew that. And I wanted to get back as soon as possible to tell you the good news, so I left, going as fast as I could, following the forest trails home.'

I hadn't even noticed I'd said ‘home' until I saw the look in Izolda's eyes. ‘I was afraid you might get caught in the storm,' she murmured.

‘It must have been only local,' I said lightly. ‘And even if it hadn't been, no storm would have kept me from you.' I took her in my arms and held her tight, breathing in her beauty and her warmth, knowing that this was home indeed.

We had a festive dinner that night, with smoked fish to start, bacon pancakes as a main course, and sweets to finish, and we toasted each other with water fresh from the spring. Then we sat by the fire, talking, and for the first time, Izolda began to tell me about her family. She told me a story that her father had told her so many times as a young child and which she'd thought about so many times in her long imprisonment that it had become brightly polished as a jewel in her mind.

‘My father was on a state visit to the White City, in the days when our countries were at peace,' she began. ‘One day, needing a break from official functions, he went on an impromptu visit to the markets. On the way there he passed a house and saw, sitting at her balcony, a lovely young auburn-haired woman reading. That was my mother, Irina Leonska.'

‘With a name like that, she must have been descended from the Lion Knights!' I exclaimed. The Lion Knights were the greatest order of chivalry in old Krainos, but they had ceased to exist a century ago, along with the parliament they served. But even in our time, their legend remained intact, and families claiming Lion Knight descent were high in the ranks of our society.

‘Yes, she was,' said Izolda. ‘And very proud of it, too. She was the only child of my widowed grandfather, who absolutely doted on her. Anyway, my father saw my mother, and one glimpse was enough. There could be no other woman for him. And she felt exactly the same about him, for he was very handsome, tall with black eyes under white-blond hair.'

‘Love at first sight,' I murmured.

‘Yes. A powerful magic strong enough to overcome my father's duty to the Erlking's sister.'

‘The Erlking?'

‘He is a
feyin
lord in Almain. My father's parents had arranged the betrothal as a way of uniting our people. My father had gone along with it for the most part, but when he set eyes on my mother, nothing else mattered to him. And it was the same for her. They met that same day, then the next, and on the third day my father went to his
parents and told them the engagement with the Erlking's sister was off.'

‘What did they say?'

‘They were angry, but he was determined. He found a way to break it off which did not cause any enmity. You see, he knew the Erlking's sister did not love him and that her heart leaned to another man but that she had not dared to speak out before. She was so relieved of being freed of the engagement that she helped my father smooth it over both with my father's parents and with her own brother. But then, of course, there was my human grandfather's opposition to deal with.'

‘What? He wasn't happy, either?'

‘No, he was not. He distrusted
feyin
and was afraid for my mother, afraid she'd hate living underground in the alien realm of Night. But my mother assured him that my father made her happier than she'd ever been in her life, and that her father must rejoice for her instead.'

‘She sounds like a decided sort of lady, your mother,' I said, smiling. ‘And you a chip off the old block, too, I'd wager.'

‘I don't know,' Izolda said softly. ‘And I wish I did.'

Her expression grew sad, and I cursed myself for a clumsy fool as she told me what had happened, based on what she'd been able to piece together from half-memories and books she'd read. What she said revealed a startling new picture to me, one that might explain in some measure why the Prince of Night had declared war on Krainos.

‘My mother was happy in Night,' Izolda said, ‘but she also liked to come above ground at times to visit her father and her old city. At first, all went well and my grandfather
lost his dislike of my father; even warmed to him a little. Then, five years into the marriage, when I was just on two, she left me with my father at home while she went on a special visit to the City. It was the thousandth anniversary of its founding, and my mother and grandfather were to be guests of honour at a special ball at the City Governor's house. My father had been invited, but he had urgent business of State to attend to and could not go – quite apart from the fact he did not much like the City Governor, who was a man both toadying and arrogant. So my mother journeyed to Krainos with her ladies, and I stayed behind at home with my father.'

Izolda took a deep breath. ‘They went to the ball, and my mother charmed everyone as usual. The next day, she felt slightly unwell. By that night, she had developed a high fever and fallen into a coma. It was soon established that she had somehow contracted a virulent strain of a disease much like measles, which was raging in the poorer parts of the City. Though frantic efforts were made to cure her both by human and
feyin
doctors, she died two days later.

‘My father was inconsolable. He had lost the love of his life, and for a while his courtiers thought he would go mad, so great was his grief.' Izolda paused. ‘My mother's father died only a few months later. Of a broken heart, they said. It was then that my father began to conceive a violent hatred of Krainos. His grief made him blame your country for the destruction of his happiness. And what's more, it wasn't the first time that a similar tragedy had struck his family.'

‘What do you mean?' I asked, puzzled. Then a vague recollection came into my head. Something that I'd once
heard mentioned – the Prince of Night had not been the original heir to his father's throne. ‘There was a brother who died very young – is that it?'

Izolda nodded. ‘Yes. Back then, my grandfather had sent his firstborn to Krainos, reviving the tradition for a child of the royal blood of Night to be sent to a human foster family to learn the ways of the human world. But the little boy was delicate, and he took ill with scarlet fever and died. My father never knew him, because he himself was only a baby when it happened, and it was overshadowed by the fact his mother, my grandmother, had died not long after his own birth. But I think now that the remembrance of old tragedy added to the pain of the new one to further darken his view of Krainos. He even forgot, I think, that my mother had come from there. As the years passed, his hatred grew and grew until one day it could no longer be contained. And then he launched the black ships …'

She fell silent, staring into the flames, and I felt a shiver crawl over me as the echo of her words died away. By the Angels, was it really possible that her father had killed all those people – our people and his own – caused so much havoc, struck so much fear into so many souls, because his heart was broken? Had he really thought that hatred could heal the pain of love? If so, he had been grievously, terribly wrong. Not only had he been defeated, not only had his kingdom been forced into a humiliating treaty, but he had lost his only daughter, the fruit of his and his wife's love.

Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined I might feel even a shred of pity for the Prince of Night.
Always, we'd been told he was a monster, a power-hungry aggressor who had made a grab for our country and failed. But now I could not help a tiny flicker of sympathy as I thought of the very special hell he must have been living in all these years.