Chrys motioned for them to follow as she sprang lightly up the wide steps that led to her door.
“What did I tell you?” Freddy whispered to Shea as they trailed behind her. “So proper that an old lady would ask you in for tea.”
Stepping into Chrys’ home was like walking into a florist’s shop. Hanging planters were suspended from the ceiling, potted plants with wide, green leaves filled the corners of the room, along with miniature citrus trees. Vases of flowers rested on nearly every surface, each arrangement expertly and artistically done. The streams of muted, colored light from the windows gave the small space a warm, almost magical feeling. The house was one room, with a quilted bed tucked up against the back wall opposite a fat, round stove. A table and chairs filled the middle of the room, and the rest of the walls were lined with rustic wooden shelves that held a variety of pots and canisters.
Chrys busied herself at the stove, starting a fire and filling a kettle with water from a floral pitcher. “Have a seat, boys. I’msure those legs are tired from all of that walking.” She pulled back the edge of a thin, faded rug, revealing a cellar door.
Freddy jumped back up from the surprisingly comfortable wooden seat he had just taken. “Let us help you first.”
She waved his words away as she pulled up the door with ease and grabbed a fistful of her skirts. “No need. You just rest.” She disappeared into the dark hole, only to appear a moment later with a jar of ruby red cherry preserves. Freddy’s mouth watered at the sight.
Chrys bustled around the room, stubbornly ignoring every offer of help the young men made. She set a loaf of soft, fresh bread in the middle of the table, along with a bowl of creamy butter and the jar of preserves. “Eat as much as you like,” she directed with a grandmotherly smile. “I have more cherries than I know what to do with.”
Freddy woke up the next morning slightly disoriented and with a crick in his neck from sleeping on the wooden floor. He blinked slowly as he stared at the ceiling, calling the events of the night before to mind.
Between Chrys’ entertaining conversation, the delicious food, the hot floral tea that warmed him from the inside out, and the fact that Freddy’s clothes were finally no longer damp, the evening seemed to fly by. When Chrys rose to begin clearing away the empty plates and cups, Freddy was surprised to look out the windows and see that night had completely fallen. It had taken both of their powers combined to convince Chrys that they were not about to put her out of her own bed and would be completely comfortable on the floor—a statement that Freddywas now certain was lie, given the way his head lanced with pain every time he tilted his head to the right.
He sat up slowly, kneading the stiff muscles at the base of his skull, and looked around. The stained glass windows made it hard to tell just how much of the morning had passed, though there was enough light streaming in that he was certain dawn had already come. Beside him, Shea’s breaths came deep and even as he slept.
Apparently we should add ‘ability to sleep soundly on uncomfortable surfaces’ to the list of skills he acquired in the army.
Chrys shifted, also still asleep and bundled under brightly colored patchwork. Freddy tiptoed to the front door and slipped out.
The cool, fresh air of the morning greeted him. The sun was still fairly low in the sky, suggesting that no more than an hour or two had passed since dawn. Still, after the delay caused by the river the day before, Freddy was itching to leave as soon as possible.
Hopefully Lizzie won’t have gotten too far ahead. Even if she’s riding, as Audrey said, the storm yesterday would have slowed her down a bit.
He wandered into the garden in an attempt to calm some of the nervous energy that hummed just under the surface of his skin. He forced himself to slow down and breathe, focusing on the color and shape of the flowers and the fresh, clean scent of the morning. Even the uncomfortable way the dew on the grass soaked into his socks through the holes in his boots was a welcome distraction from the anxious thought that every moment that he was delayed, Lizzie was getting further and further away.
Chrys’ garden was a delightful mix of order and natural chaos. Rather than straight paths through the flower beds, the walkwaytwisted in a meandering maze. The plants were all expertly pruned, and the ground cleared of weeds, but the way that the bushes grew into one another and the seemingly random conglomeration of colors and shapes made it seem just a little wild. Cheerful birdsong floated on the breeze above him, as the feathered residents of the garden spoke to one another from the trees that grew at irregular intervals.
The sound of the birds tugged at fond memories, and Freddy lowered himself to the ground by the trunk of an apple tree. He leaned his head back against the rough bark, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to get lost in his memories.
Chapter Six
Freddy, 6 years old
“Butwhydo I have to go?” Freddy threw his head back and pouted as Queen Clarice finished buttoning the collar of his shirt. His hand immediately flew to the stiff fabric, pulling it away from his neck. “It’s boring and my feet hurt, and these clothes are so uncomfortable. Why can’t I just stay here?”
His mother’s gentle hands smoothed his hair as she spoke. “Because it is polite to greet our guests when they arrive. It makes them feel welcome.”
“But we see them every year. Don’t they already know?”
“Perhaps, but perhaps not.”
“Why do they have to come, anyway? They don’t even like us.” Freddy gave up on his collar, dropping heavily to the floor and shifting his attention instead to yanking on the laces of his shoes. Tying them in neat knots was a challenge he had not yet conquered, and he stuck his tongue out in concentration as he fought with the strings.
Queen Clarice sank gracefully to the floor in front of him, her skirts forming a puddle of purple on the floor. In his mind, Kysta’s queen was the most beautiful woman in all of Eukarya, with sparkling blue eyes that he was proud matched his own, and soft blonde hair that she always gathered into mesmerizing, mysterious twists. He watched from the corner of his eyes as she folded her hands in her lap, ready to help him, should he ask.
“You can’t know that.”
He looked up from his frustrating laces to frown at her. “King Alfred always looks angry, and sometimes he yells at Father.”
His mother sighed. “Yes. King Alfred has a temper and occasionally lets it get the better of him.”
“I don’t like it.” With a growl of annoyance, Freddy threw his laces down and shoved his foot towards his mother. She remained perfectly still, saying nothing and looking at him with raised eyebrows until he squirmed and added politely. “Will you help me, please?”
She acquiesced at one, her fingers deftly tying the knots with a speed that was astonishing to his young mind. “It won’t take very long. You just need to say hello and welcome, and then you’re free to go.” She tapped his other foot, and he shifted so that she could reach the laces on that shoe as well. “Though I would appreciate it if you could help Princess Eliza feel at home while she’s here.”
