It was heavy.
Even the lid was made of solid slabs of wood fitted tightly together. As she lifted it, the back end of the lid lost contact with the chest and twisted backwards, slamming back down between the chest and the stone wall behind it. Fortunately, she had been far enough away that her hands did not get smashed between them.
She coughed in the dust.
Bringing the lanterns closer, she realized that the leather hinges holding the lid in place had completely disintegrated. It really had been years since someone had bothered to open this chest. Maybe that meant there was another figurine in it that had been made by the Majis? Or perhaps it housed some instrument of torture or spelled curse? She gulped and pushed the lid off the back of the chest.
All she could see inside was a layer of loose wool, surprisingly still intact. Broken stems and leaves suggested that it had once been packed with sprigs of lavender or hyssop. But if they had provided any pleasantness of scent, it was long since gone. She was afraid to breathe, not wanting to inhale more dust and mold.
Carefully lifting the loose wool out in bunches, she uncovered a large canvas bundle that nearly filled the entire chest. She was unable to lift it, so she peeled back the layer of canvas. Bringing the lantern closer, she saw thick layers of fabric that appeared to be wrapped in a giant scroll. The fabric had close, tight stitching on it...
A tapestry!
It had once been a much-revered art form, but as painting had become the preferred method for flattering portraits, tapestries had gone out of favor. Mistress Cedrice would love to see this! She would coo over the craftsmanship and detail! Ashlin wished she could lift the heavy bundle and carry it all the way to the seamstress’s shop. But she would have to content herself with the one corner she could access. She bent forward to examine the stitches. They were perfect, tiny, the small threads expertly interlocking to create a section of solid blue as bright as the sky.
The color seemed bright, unfaded. She could hardly wait to unroll it and see what kind of story the stitched panels contained.
It was nearly midnight, but if someone was available to help lift this treasure out of the chest, she would gladly stay the whole night. Ah well, she could ask Hommlyn or Drirsi to help lift it in the morning.
Chapter 8
“Onric, you absolute fool,” the young prince berated himself. “Your skull is as empty as a flagon of good mead.”
He jumped out of bed and wrapped himself in his warmest cloak. His mind refused to sleep as his conscience pricked with guilt. Or was it the image of a certain young woman he couldn’t seem to shut out?
That young woman, whose name he still did not know, would likely never speak to him again after the way he had raised his voice and then given the sorriest excuse for doing so.
It seemed that every time he opened his mouth around her, he only hurt her. Not that he was trying to, it just... He was an idiot.
She seemed particularly aware of herself, as though she thought she was always at fault. Normally, he could not stand the kind of person who was always sorry for themselves, but he had also seen brief moments where a carefree laugh or tease seemed to shine through.
He felt a certain responsibility to make her laugh. He knew he held a privileged position in life, but it seemed that most of the servants at the castle seemed fairly happy and comfortable. She was different.
She was gentle. Small. And her eyes held a life all their own. They contained both a pain and a joy he longed to unravel.
He had to get her out of his head if he wanted to start sleeping again.
For now, though, he had different plans. He quietly made his way out down the hall so as not to wake any of his siblings in the adjoining rooms. Once in the clear, he picked up his pace, hoping he wasn’t too late as he sprinted to the stables and saddled Blossom.
“Hey, my good boy,” he said, soothing the confused animal, “fancy a midnight ramble?”
Walking in front of the horse, he led it to the side gate of the castle that was mostly frequented by the servants. He and his siblings often used it themselves when they did not want to be noticed.
Most of the servants were housed at the palace, but a small handful came up daily from the small city below. The girl must have really convinced the steward to bring her on, as most of the evening shifts were given to the servants who lived on the premises. Smiling, Onric could instantly imagine the sweet young woman winning over the testy steward. He was a short man with a shorter temper, but he really did have a heart of gold. There was a reason he was trusted with the management of the entire palace.
Onric settled against the courtyard wall and removed his hood despite the frigid cold. He did not want to surprise the girl by bursting out of the dark shadows. The flaming torch on the wall offered a small modicum of warmth, but not much.
She probably needed the extra work desperately. Likely, she had a family somewhere she was trying to support. Younger siblings, maybe? Aging parents?
He only hoped she had not yet left the palace.
He was about to give up his wait when a small figure exited the castle on the other side of the courtyard. He could not see her face in the dim torchlight, but her silhouette was easy to make out as she was not even wearing a cloak.
She noticed him immediately and continued walking towards the gate where he stood. She dipped into a curtsy as she approached. “Prince Onric?”
“Just Onric, m’lady,” he countered, bowing back to her. Her formal behavior sent another dagger through his heart, and he longed to return to that stormy night in the kitchen over the washing. “Please, allow me and Blossom to take you home tonight.”
She searched his face. He was not sure what she was looking for, but he did not know a single other person who waited for so long before they spoke. His brothers and even his sister were far more aggressive with their words, and all the noble ladies he had ever known were quick and confident in their conversation.
