The Fire Star Read online

  ‘Keep walking,’ I whisper to Reeve, ignoring his question.

  ‘But they’ve gone past us!’ he protests in an overly loud voice. ‘We should head back to the castle so I can tell Sir Garrick about the sweeping man . . . Unless there is some reason you do not wish me to do that.’

  I lift my skirts a little to clear a boggy patch of the forest floor, grateful for my foresight in slipping out of the dainty soft-soled slippers that fashionable ladies – and their companions – must wear indoors and into the pair of sturdy lace-up boots I’d found by the kitchen door.

  ‘I need to talk to someone,’ I demur. ‘And I know that you would not wish a young lady to be left to wander the forest alone.’

  I look sideways just in time to catch the suspicious glance Reeve throws my way. But, as I knew they would, his innate good manners and chivalry win out. ‘Indeed, my lady,’ he responds smoothly after a moment. ‘I would not wish such a thing. Particularly for one so unworldly and demure as yourself.’

  I suppress a grin. Two can play at this game.

  ‘Oh, good Sir Almost Knight, what a brave and kind gentleman you are. I will not miss the opportunity to sing of your courtliness to Sir Garrick and my Lady Cassandra.’

  There is a pause. ‘I thought we’d agreed not to do this,’ Reeve says before muttering a sharp ‘ouch’. His gait hitches, and it seems he is still wearing his house boots, and that the leaf litter may not be as soft as I’d thought.

  ‘Why can’t you just tell me where we’re going?’ he protests.

  I stop and turn to face him, dropping his hand, which I had not even realised I was still holding.

  ‘I cannot,’ I say. ‘I should not even be taking you with me. But it seems I find myself in the awkward position of needing you, Reeve of Norwood.’

  He studies my face for a moment, and I have the uncomfortable feeling that he is staring into my very thoughts. ‘Er, thank you,’ he says. ‘I think. So I should just . . . follow?’

  I want to laugh at the expression on Reeve’s face, but I say nothing, leaving him to work through his thoughts. When you’ve been raised as this boy has been raised, the idea of following a girl anywhere goes against everything you know.

  ‘All right,’ he says, and I blink at the rapid acquiescence. ‘But you owe me an explanation.’

  I hide my surprise and rapidly recalculate my opinion of him yet again as we continue, weaving our way through the trees. I had not thought he would agree so readily. It seems that the Lady Rhoswen has indeed done more than teach him a serving fork from an eating awl – or that ‘die at sea’ comment was less of an exaggeration than I’d imagined.

  Still, I can’t help but wonder how he will react when I remove my sock in a few minutes to blindfold him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘You want to what?’

  Reeve shook his head, as though to unscramble her words. He’d had just about enough of traipsing about in the forest with this strange, bossy girl. He could feel the beginnings of a large, watery blister on the ball of his foot and didn’t dare to look at the soles of his boots to see just what a mess they were.

  He had been about to turn around and return to Rennart Castle to change into more suitable footwear, cursing his lack of forethought, when he’d caught that flash of crimson in the brambles. Reeve was only pleased that he hadn’t fainted when he’d realised it was blood – though he had to admit it had been a close call.

  And now this.

  ‘You have to wear this,’ Maven said, brandishing her sock at him even as she replaced the boot on her now-bare foot. ‘I can’t take you any further if I don’t cover your eyes.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Reeve snapped. ‘I couldn’t find my way back here if there was a knighthood wrapped in gold at the end of the trail. How can it possibly make any difference now?’

  Maven said nothing, continuing to proffer the sock.

  ‘No,’ Reeve repeated through gritted teeth. ‘I. Will. Not. Wear. The. Blindfold.’

  ‘Reeve,’ she said, her tone measured. ‘It is essential that I go . . . where I’m going. Now, I can either spin you around three times and push you off into the forest on your own to get lost, or, if you want those answers, you can put this over your eyes for about five minutes and we’ll be there.’

  ‘Where is “there”?’ he demanded, before realising there was a more pressing question. ‘And how do you even know where “there” is? You’re not from here, either!’

  Maven blinked, and, at first, he thought she wasn’t going to respond. ‘I’ve been before,’ she admitted.

  Reeve thought about this. ‘You arrived last night,’ he said, talking out loud to himself. ‘But I saw you on the road much earlier. You came – “there” – before you went to the castle.’

  He stopped, suddenly remembering the conversation the Airl and Sir Garrick had been having at dinner. The talk of treason, and uprising, of the King’s spies . . .

  ‘Are you a spy for the King?’ Reeve blurted, wishing he could take back the words as soon as he’d spoken them. He had no weapon, and where there was one spy there were bound to be more. If she’d heard any rumours at all about the Airl’s plans, then it was up to Reeve to stop her right now, before she had the chance to destroy them all!

  ‘What?’ It was Maven’s turn to look astounded. ‘No! One thousand times no. I wouldn’t spy for that bounder if you paid me. Which I suppose he would, given the way he’s spending.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re supposed to say that out loud,’ Reeve muttered, peering into the trees around them to make sure they were quite alone.

  ‘What? Bounder?’ Maven repeated, and Reeve could see her trembling. ‘You would prefer that I call him a villain? That’s what he is. My father gambled away our entire family fortune in the company of that wastrel when he was Prince. Now, he’s King, and sitting on a golden throne, dressed in the finest silks, and building three new palaces he does not need, while my father drinks away what little money he has left!’

  The last words were a shout that echoed through the trees, setting a nearby bird to flight, and Maven paused before going on in a fierce whisper. ‘I have no ties to him. Why would you ask me a question like that? What do you know?’

  ‘I, er, well, I know nothing,’ Reeve said, quailing before her cold, curious stare. There was no way he was going to provoke her further or repeat to this puzzling girl what he’d overheard at the table. Not when he was already dealing with a dead man on the road, a missing jewel, an angry Airl and a reluctant bride. ‘Here, give me that sock. I will wear your blindfold.’

  Anything to change the subject.

  With a searching look, Maven gave him the sock, saying nothing as he tied the soft fabric over his eyes. To his surprise, the sock smelled faintly of lavender and rosewater, a distinctly different odour to that of his own socks. What’s more, with his eyes covered, Reeve noticed that he could hear the birdsong more clearly – not to mention a skittering sound in the leaf litter to his left. The slight breeze ruffled his hair.

  ‘Maven?’ he asked, annoyed to hear a faint wobble in his voice. What was it about covering your eyes that made the whole world unfamiliar?

  ‘Here,’ she said, and now her voice was gentle as she took his hand. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not far and I won’t let you fall.’

  Despite Maven’s words, Reeve stumbled as she led him forward.

  ‘Stay close,’ Maven warned, pulling him towards her, so close that he could feel her skirts brush against his boots. ‘The ground is uneven.’

  Reeve exhaled sharply, hating how defenceless he felt as he crept along behind her, wondering just what it was that he was getting himself into. Maven’s outburst had shocked him – not just her words, but the intense feeling that had forced them from her, when Reeve had thought her so contained, so sure of herself, so . . . cold. He was torn between feeling sorry for her and being very worried that all of that anger he’d just glimpsed might have led her to take drastic action.
r />   She might not be a spy for the King, but Maven was into something up to her neck, and Reeve’s very presence here was making him complicit.

  Reeve pushed the thought away. The Airl had charged him with finding the Fire Star, and Reeve’s very future as a knight depended on that. A knight would not run away, not when his gut told him that he was on the right track – even if that track did require him to blunder about wearing a blindfold.

  ‘It’s not far now,’ Maven said, breaking into his thoughts. ‘About twenty more steps.’

  Reeve concentrated on counting the steps.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, dropping his hand as he felt the sun burning on his face. They had left the shadowy twilight of the forest and stepped into a clearing of some sort. He reached up to remove the blindfold.

  ‘Not just yet,’ Maven said, putting her hand on his to still the fingers that were already working at the knot. ‘Wait here.’

  Reeve heard her walk away and then, inexplicably, the creaking sound of a door opening. Within moments, she was back, grabbing his hand again. ‘Follow me,’ she said, ‘but be prepared for steps. I’ll tell you when.’

  ‘Maven –’ he began, as she dragged him forward.

  ‘I’ll answer all your questions in a minute,’ she said, cutting off his protest. ‘But now, put one hand on my shoulder and step when I tell you to.’

  ‘Is all this entirely necessary?’ Reeve asked, even as he allowed her to place his hand on her shoulder. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ Maven confirmed. ‘You’ll see. Now, step.’

  Reeve did as he was told, nearly falling on his face as his foot dropped, his other hand clawing for Maven’s other shoulder. ‘Steady!’ she yelped, and he realised he was digging his fingers into her skin.

  ‘You could have warned me that it was a long way down,’ Reeve grumbled.

  ‘Oh, stop being a baby,’ she said. ‘You didn’t fall, did you? Now, step again – this one is smaller.’

  So the stairs were not even? Where was she taking him?

  ‘Come on, Reeve,’ Maven encouraged. ‘Only a few more.’

  He said nothing, simply stepping when she told him to do so, his mind churning with questions.

  At last, Reeve arrived on what felt like solid ground. To his surprise, he could feel the chill of cobblestones under the thin soles of his boots.

  ‘All right,’ Reeve said, reaching for the blindfold. ‘I’m taking this off now.’

  Maven said nothing, and this time he didn’t bother with the knot, reefing the sock from his eyes in one movement.

  For a moment, Reeve thought he’d somehow damaged his sight forever but, gradually, his eyes began to adjust to the gloom, and he realised that he was standing in some kind of room. The room had no windows, and the only sources of light were from a faint glow from above him, at the top of the winding stairs he’d just come down, and a warm red from the dying coals in the huge stone fireplace that took up most of the wall beside him.

  Maven was standing beside a long, wooden table, and, as he watched, she took a thin taper from a box on a shelf that was carved into the sandstone wall, and pushed it into the coals until it took light. She then used it to light the candles on three tall candelabra down the middle of the table, and the room was revealed.

  Reeve stared open-mouthed as the scale of the space became clear.

  ‘What is this place?’ he blurted, his voice seeming to disappear into the stone walls. The ceiling was high and vaulted, carved into a dome that sat above the long table. Intricate carvings of birds and leaves, flowers and bees, suns and moons, stars and fantastic winged creatures adorned every tiny inch of the ceiling, as well as an arch that led into darkness at the far end of the room. Above the arch, inset as a circular coat of arms would be, was the same trees-and-bird symbol that Reeve had noticed on the muslin that wrapped the Lady Cassandra’s wedding gown, and he frowned before turning his gaze to the rest of the room.

  An enormous carved wooden chest sat to one side of the arch, the only furniture in the room besides the table and chairs. Above it hung a huge gilt-framed mirror, its unpolished frame reflecting dull gold in the candlelight. Reeve caught sight of his own face, pale and distorted, reflected in its cloudy surface, as Maven took the stairs two at a time and closed the door above them with a bang.

  ‘It’s a meeting room,’ said Maven, answering his question as she made her way back down the stairs. ‘Take a seat. She’ll be here soon.’

  As Maven spoke, she took her sock from his hand and, pulling out the nearest chair with an unceremonious scrape along the stone floor, dropped heavily into it and began tugging at her boot.

  Reeve shook his head, the strangeness of the room creating an agony of nerves within him. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I have done all you asked without question, but now you must answer. I’ll not stay here a moment longer without that.’

  ‘I know you’re curious,’ Maven said wearily, slipping the sock over her toes. ‘You would not have come this far without that. Can you really not wait another few minutes?’

  But Reeve had had enough, and the calm way in which she performed the everyday task of putting her boot back on annoyed him. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘You have made me complicit in whatever mess you’re involved in, and I have a right to know what that is.’

  To his surprise, Maven laughed. ‘I have made you complicit,’ she said and groaned. ‘Reeve, have you not yet realised that you and I “make” nothing. Your Sir Garrick will decide for you, just as the Lady Cassandra decides for me. The only choices we have are what we do with those decisions. Can we make them work and therefore save ourselves? Or will we be dragged to rack and ruin under their loving care?’

  Reeve felt his brow furrow at her words, even as he caught sight of his own confused-looking reflection in the mirror. He didn’t even look like himself down here, he realised, his usually bright golden hair dulled to a mousy brown by the light and the mirror’s distorted surface.

  ‘They do what they think is best,’ Reeve said, but even he could hear the doubt in his voice. Were they talking about the Lady Rhoswen, there would be no hesitation in his words. He had always trusted her implicitly, even when he was champing at the bit to be promoted from page to squire and she had made him wait, and wait, determined that Sir Garrick was the only knight sponsor for him.

  But now? Could Reeve honestly say that Sir Garrick knew what was best for him? The Knight Protector barely knew Reeve – if anything, he seemed to swing from tolerating his presence to thinking Reeve useless.

  ‘Reeve,’ Maven said, and now her voice was sad. ‘They do what they think is best for them. Never forget that.’

  Reeve found he needed to sit down, all thoughts of escaping up the staircase to the fresh air halted by the reality of his situation. The truth was that the Airl was ready to throw him from the castle in the next day or so, with no home and no future prospects, based simply on the fact that he needed a scapegoat for a burglary that should never have happened under the Airl’s own roof.

  And now the man that Reeve had thought might know something, his only lead for information, was lying dead in a ditch by the side of the road. Alone and unlamented by anyone bar he and Maven – and even they had left him to lie there.

  ‘Tell me,’ Reeve said, his rising anxiety squeezing his voice to a higher pitch. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He may not feel like himself in this room, or even look like himself, but he would sound like himself if it took every ounce of poise and self-control the Lady Rhoswen had instilled in him.

  ‘Tell me,’ Reeve repeated, and this time there was no tremble or squeak.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I have put it off as long as I can. Now that I have brought us both to safety, away from any prying eyes and eager ears that may be loitering, I can avoid this no longer. Simply by bringing Reeve to our sanctuary, I have enmeshed him in my plans, and I must hope that he has enough to lose not to bring me undone.

  Reeve sits quietly enou
gh, the candlelight bringing a dull glow to his fair hair, but his tension is evident in the way his fists lie clenched upon the table.

  He will not move until he knows.

  ‘His name was Sullivan and he had the Fire Star,’ I say on a sigh, gesturing in the general direction of the body in the brambles. Reeve says nothing, waiting for me to go on.

  ‘You were right to suspect him,’ I continue, evoking a small half-smile from Reeve – a smile that I know will disappear at my next words. ‘My Lady Cassandra dropped the stone to him this morning moments before she screamed.’

  Reeve blanched and then nodded. ‘I had wondered . . . But I couldn’t quite believe. Then again . . . the perfect cover. Everyone in the courtyard was looking up at her as he made off with the stone. But who is he? A man that could be trusted with such a task.’

  I think carefully about my next words. ‘A loyal servant,’ I say, as my tears begin to fall and I dash them away with the back of my hand. ‘A man who would follow his mistress to the ends of the earth.’

  ‘Poor soul,’ Reeve says, crossing himself. ‘He did not deserve this.’

  ‘No,’ I say fiercely, wiping my tears away. ‘He did not.’

  Reeve is still working through my story. ‘But how?’ he asks. ‘He did not travel with you. I saw you on the road, and there were but the two of you.’

  I say nothing, and he sits back in his chair, giving me a long, assessing look.

  ‘This was not spur of the moment,’ Reeve says, and now perplexed wrinkles mark his forehead. ‘He came ahead of you . . . he got himself a job . . .’

  Reeve is shaking his head. ‘What did you do?’ he asks, and even though he does not seem to expect an answer, I give him one.

  ‘I did as my lady asked me to do,’ I say, mustering up as much dignity as I can manage when I feel so sick and tired. ‘I tried to find her a way out.’

  ‘But why you?’ he asks, his confusion obvious. ‘Why in the name of all things sacred would she choose a servant girl to organise her life for her?’