Chapter 31

E velyn made a trip to the post office every week as summer rolled on and harvest season began. Every time she pushed open the heavy wooden door, she held out a bit of hope that she'd find a letter from Lady Kilgour, only to return to her shop empty-handed, or with only a brief letter from Odessa, with word of how matters were unfolding at the castle. However, the fairy-witch was careful not to reveal too much in her correspondence, usually keeping to the topic of what she and the others were working on, and while Odessa didn't outright say it, there were hints that things were amiss, as she complained about not having any large events to prepare for—as royal feasts and balls were always her favorite—and about the frustration of having her least favorite chamberlain, Tomlin, breathing down her neck more in recent days .

And by the middle of harvesttime, Odessa's letters stopped, too.

Evelyn did her best to focus on her work, which fully revolved around brewing and dispatching potions and salves and balms to any of the townsfolk and farmers who asked for her aid. The shop on Sailcloth Row, once leased as a ruse to conceal her true work, became an official shop with the help of the others. Erwin built her more shelves and proper flower beds for the strip of land behind the Row. When she'd shown them to Coren, he asked why she needed them when he could grow anything she could dream up in his vast gardens. She'd smiled and said it was her spare plan, should he one day tire of her. This had earned her a dramatic sigh and a rolling of his eyes, though the feigned display of annoyance ended quickly, with several kisses and an assurance such a thing would never happen.

Archie had hooted in disgust and flown off early for his hunt.

Somewhere along the way, Trudy and Maeve bullied Evelyn into charging for some of her potions. Those truly in need—with an illness or injury—could be served free of charge, but there were other potions and draughts the pair of them deemed worthy of charging. Largely those meant to ease wrinkles or remove spots, along with those meant to add a shine to dull hair or soothe frayed nerves.

Together, everyone pitched in and surprised her with a custom-made sign, and had Lorcan mount it above the shop.

Fortune's Apothecary

Sio provided as many bottles and vessels as Evelyn needed, and the two of them even worked out a way for loyal customers to return the empty ones for a credit toward their next purchase.

To Evelyn's surprise, the townsfolk and farmers were happy to pay for her services and wares, and it was all she could do to keep up with the growing demand in the weeks following her official opening day. She hired one of Lenora's grown daughters to help run deliveries through town, and Archie pitched in when she got well and truly in a bind—granted, he demanded quarts of orange marmalade as payment for his aid.

On a blustery Griamorn, Evelyn set out to the post office, as had become her custom, even after three weeks had passed without a single letter. She bundled up in her cloak and kept the hood tucked in around her neck as she fought against the bitter wind that rolled in from the storm-tossed waters. The docks were filled with boats and small ships, their crews hunkered down in the taverns and boarding houses, as they waited for Iseulta to send her wintry breeze further to the south. It was far too early in the season for such a chill, and the sailors were none too happy about it.

As she neared the post office she dug a handful of letters from her satchel. She'd written three in total: one to Odessa, Merielle, and Tansy; one to Lady Kilgour; and one to Rona. The one to her coven leader was the shortest of them all, but in the past weeks, she'd decided to at least write and thank her properly and let her know the blight was resolved. It was unlikely to make much of a difference, but Evelyn was no longer interested in holding on to such a grudge. She thought it might even be nice to take Coren to Everspring one day, to show him where she came from. And such a trip might not be possible—or at least comfortable—without Rona's blessing.

Her musings were interrupted by an abrupt chorus of voices shouting from somewhere nearby, and then the sound of hooves. She turned back, stopping just shy of the garden space before the post office, and found three fine carriages thundering down the main road.

Evelyn jumped back, pressing against a wall of shrubs, as the horses blazed up the sloped road, heading toward the hilltop district. As they whizzed past, her heart leaped, noting the royal sigil sewn into the banners hanging from the horses and the sides of the carriages.

Alongside them hung another banner.

"Ardorin!" she gasped, bringing one hand to her mouth as the horses thundered past.

She thrust the stack of letters back into her satchel and took off at a run, chasing the carriages up the hillside. The guards at the smaller gate in the wall surrounding the district knew her well, as she had several loyal customers within its walls, and let her pass with barely a sidelong glance.

The three carriages stood in front of the large home she'd mistaken for a great hall on her first night in the city. That of the Dunlas family. Guards stood at the front and rear of the procession, also wearing the royal sigil, but the helmets were shiny and new, and engraved with a hammer—the sign of Ardorin.

Was this why Lady Kilgour had not answered her? If King Ayren had indeed been overthrown by Ivor, why had word not reached the harborside city? Surely a messenger or carrier pigeon would have arrived far more quickly than three royal carriages, weighted down with guards and whoever sat on the other side of the fluttering velvet curtains shrouding the windows.

Before she could fully decide what to do, her feet moved, making up her mind for her, it seemed. She thrust her shoulders back and held her chin high, knowing that unless Ivor had replaced the king's guards, they would likely recognize her, even without her taking the time to find and arrange her official hat.

As she approached, the doors to the carriage in the center opened, and a dour-looking woman in a fine red dress, the color of the wine served at the most prestigious of royal feasts, emerged.

With a soft gasp, Evelyn stopped short and ducked her chin, bowing slightly. "My lady."

"Evelyn?" Lady Kilgour replied, seeming equally startled. "What are you—" She shook her head, letting the question fade. "Never mind. I need to speak with you anyway, so you might as well follow me inside."

A dozen questions tried to leave Evelyn's mouth at once, like a group of people all attempting to squeeze through the same doorway, rendering the stream of words unintelligible. "How are you—what is—I mean, is King Ayren?—"

Lady Kilgour raised a sharp eyebrow. "Ivor is your king now."

Evelyn blinked.

"I realize this is quite a shock, but that is why I am here, to speak with the merchants and inform them of the news face-to-face, as there are bound to be many questions." Her expression shifted as she looked up at the large home, a flicker of exhaustion cutting through her stony resolve, if only for a moment.

Dread coiled inside Evelyn's stomach as she followed Lady Kilgour inside. Questions stacked one on top of the other with each step she took in the advisor's wake, the woman's steps striking the stones with importance.

Once inside the impressive home, Evelyn was quickly forgotten in the shuffle of activity. She thought she saw Paulette somewhere in the activity, but she was swallowed up in the crowd of servants and guards and important-looking people in fine clothing.

It appeared some notice had been given, if not to the townsfolk, at least to the wealthy merchants who, for all intents and purposes, ruled the harbor. Dora and James stood near the front of those gathered, but as the crowd swirled and moved, it broke upon the rocks that were Lord Greymairn and his wife, as they stood anchored in the center of the largest room. The silver-haired lord raised a glass and smiled as Lady Kilgour was escorted through the room. "Ah, well done, Catriona. We received word of your success!"

Lady Kilgour smiled and accepted a glass from a young servant girl, who ducked into a curtsey before scurrying away. "I believe you mean of our success, Philip."

A rumble of laughter and scattered applause rang through the room. Evelyn hugged the wall and glanced around, wishing someone would tell her what in the nine kingdoms was going on.

"I take it your residents do not yet know?" Lady Kilgour asked .

"I suppose they do now, having seen your carriages," Lord Greymairn replied with a throaty chuckle.

"King Ivor insisted on the banners." Lady Kilgour allowed a thin smile. "However, it is time they knew. The coronation will take place in ten days' time."

"And as for Ayren? Is he still… resisting?" Philip asked, lacing the word with meaning.

"In the end, the transfer of power was peaceful, and no one in Crownvale spilled so much as a drop of blood—royal or otherwise," Lady Kilgour explained to her captivated audience. "Ayren has agreed to be reasonable, and in turn, Ivor has agreed to let him fade into obscurity on the Isle of Walthorpe, where he will have everything he needs."

A chuckle rumbled through the room as some of the merchants gave one another knowing looks.

"I'm glad he's come to his senses," Lord Greymairn exclaimed, hoisting his glass up. "We here in Shieglas look forward to a most prosperous future under King Ivor's leadership. And yours, as well, Catriona. We know we can always rely on you."

Then, glancing around the room, he lifted the glass higher, and others joined in. "To King Ivor! Long may he reign!"

An echo of sentiments rang through, and everyone drank deeply.

Everyone except Evelyn.

Lady Kilgour extracted herself from the festivities and beckoned for Evelyn to follow her outside. The wind had picked up, and a smattering of fat raindrops bounced off the carriages. A footman opened the door and set out a small stepping stool, before assisting Lady Kilgour and Evelyn inside.

The bench seats were plush and upholstered in fine velvet, but Evelyn felt as though she were sitting on a bramble bush as she met Lady Kilgour's flat countenance while the older woman settled more gracefully into her own seat. The carriage lurched into motion and Evelyn's spine stiffened.

"I assume you have many questions," Lady Kilgour began.

"Y-yes!"

"Then I shall start as near to the beginning as I can. Ivor is the rightful heir to the throne of Calendra," Lady Kilgour continued, her voice unshakable. "Our former queen, Alisa, and I were childhood friends. We both came from noble families, and when she was chosen to marry King Bruscan, she asked me to join her at Crownvale. Regrettably, I refused." Lady Kilgour paused, her thin lips pulling so tightly they all but vanished as her gaze moved to the window. " It is hardly a secret that King Bruscan was a cruel man, and that malice spilled over to his wife. Alisa was treated horribly, and would often write to me, asking for my counsel. I was only a lord's daughter, with no power of my own, or recourse to offer my friend. Before she gave birth to Ivor, she had a vivid dream, of a son who grew up to be cold and cruel, like his father. She could not bear the thought of her sweet unborn child turning into such a man. And so, together, we made a plan."

Evelyn's eyes went wide and she found herself leaning forward, breath thin as she waited for the rest of the tale.

"It took some doing, but we managed to pull it off. Alisa sent her precious son to be raised by a group who serve Ardorin, in the north. And King Bruscan was told his son had perished before he drew his first breath."

"Ivor."

Lady Kilgour dipped her chin and shifted her gaze across the carriage. "Eventually, the king tired of Alisa, and set her aside, banishing her to the long-deserted Isle of Walthorpe, and he married Ayren's mother, Queen Euna. You know the rest of the story."

Evelyn nodded slowly. King Bruscan died in his sixties, when he fell from a wild horse he was bent on breaking, only to be trampled. Some in the covens said it was Talira herself who spooked the horse and rid the kingdom of an evil ruler, though those sentiments were only whispered far from the capitol's borders.

"I have only been granted permission to visit Alisa once since her exile, and that was when she was near the end of her life. Ayren was already on the throne. And it was during that visit I begged for her forgiveness in not going to court with her when she was betrothed to Bruscan. She told me how I could make it up to her. The one thing she wanted was to see that Ivor was given his rightful place on the throne. I left the island and went to Benenfar, and took a position in the court. From there, it's rather a long story, but I managed to work my way through the ranks until I put myself in the position to offer a key bit of advice to Ayren at the right moment. I won his favor and he made me his advisor."

"And it was all with the aim to give the throne to Ivor?"

Lady Kilgour smiled, and Evelyn marveled at how much it softened the woman's angular face and brightened her aged eyes. "And now, I have done just that. Alisa may finally rest in peace."

"And what role did I play? Why send me here? Clearly you have some sort of alliance with the merchants and Lord Greymairn."

"That you were able to lift the blight was something of an unexpected boon. Although it is unfortunate it was credited to Ayren." The bridge of her nose scrunched, but she waved a hand, dismissing it quickly. "If Lord Greymairn would have kept his mind on his own marriage bed, perhaps none of this would have happened?—"

"What do you mean?"

Lady Kilgour sighed. "I did not know this at the time I sent you," she began. "It was only told to me recently, in fact. It appears there was a witch who wanted control of Shieglas, and the easiest way was through Philip. She managed to get close, and he led her on, until Lady Greymairn put an end to it. The witch cursed the land on her way out, deeming that if she couldn't have Shieglas, she would watch it crumble."

Lady Kilgour exhaled. "All told, it wasn't a bad plan. The woman clearly had an eye for economics."

Evelyn wondered again if it wasn't the same witch who had tricked Erwin.

She could not wonder too long, as Lady Kilgour lifted her chin. "In any case, the harbor is an important port, and we need it secured. You have served Calendra with honor, Evelyn, and for that, you have my gratitude. However, the main purpose in sending you away was to keep you from being killed. Ivor may prefer Ardorin to the Four, but the last thing any of us want is trouble with the covens."

A new thought occurred to Evelyn. She opened her mouth to give it voice, but Lady Kilgour seemed to anticipate it and lifted one finger.

"The official decree will have to wait until after Ivor is crowned and the news can spread throughout the kingdom, but the treaty with the covens will come to an end. As he was raised in a temple of Ardorin, Ivor has other plans for his reign, and has declared no use for the Sisters. "

Evelyn bristled. No part of her liked the treaty, but to say the Sisters were of no use to the crown or kingdom, especially with her own achievement so recent and apparent… But she kept her lips sealed.

There were other questions that were more important.

"What will happen to the others? Odessa and Tansy and Merielle?"

"They will be released from their service, the same as you. I've already spoken with them individually, though they are likewise sworn to secrecy until after the coronation. A change like this is bound to bring unrest and fear among the people, and it is my duty to quell as much of that as I can, to ensure a smooth transition of power into Ivor's hands. At the time of my departure, both Odessa and Tansyleaf had agreed to remain and continue their duties through the winter. As for Merielle, she's made it known she will be leaving immediately, though I confess I don't know her destination."

Evelyn had further questions, but the carriage slowed to a stop, and she knew her time with the advisor was coming to an end.

Lady Kilgour leaned forward and opened a small chest on the floor between the two seats. Evelyn hadn't noticed it when she'd climbed inside. The top was carved with the royal sigil, and when opened, revealed parchments and a small leather bag, presumably containing coins. Lady Kilgour flipped through the leaves of parchment and removed one. Straightening, she extended it toward Evelyn. "It is my hope you will speak fondly of your time in Benenfar whenever you return to Everspring Glade."

Evelyn took the parchment, her hands trembling as she read the words declaring her freedom from service.

The door of the carriage opened and Lady Kilgour gestured for Evelyn to precede her. She barely felt the ground under her boots as she descended the steps and oriented herself. To her surprise, they were near the city gate.

"You're not staying here?" Evelyn asked as she turned back toward the carriage, her letter clutched to her chest.

Lady Kilgour leaned out. "I have other meetings to see to," she replied. "And I imagine you, too, have other matters to attend."

The woman inclined her head, offering a final tight-lipped smile, before gesturing for the footman to close the door.

Evelyn watched as the royal carriages rolled through the gate, one in front of Lady Kilgour's and one behind, likely filled with guards for her protection.

When the sound of the horses faded, Evelyn looked down at the parchment once more, as though still not fully believing it to be true.

Then she turned and ran all the way to Sailcloth Row.

Coren stood before the hearth when she threw open the door and raced inside, breathless and red-cheeked, her hair flying in wild tangles around her face.

He turned at the flurry of her entrance, concern etched on his handsome face. "Evelyn? Are you?—"

"She did it! She kept her word!" Evelyn exclaimed, waving the parchment like a banner. "I'm free!"

Coren nearly tripped over Nareen, who lay dozing by the fire, and hurried over to her. "What's this?"

Evelyn threw her arms around his neck. "I'm free! I don't have to leave Shieglas. I don't have to go back to Crownvale!" Tears sprang to her eyes as he held her tight and laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest and into her own.

When they parted, he kissed her madly, only breaking apart when they were breathless and laughing too much to continue. Coren wiped a thumb along the crest of her cheekbone, clearing a stray tear, and smiled at her, his own eyes brimming and glossy. "So, you're saying I'm well and truly stuck with you, Evelyn Rosewood?"

She snorted a laugh. "Rather hopelessly, I'm afraid."

His grin widened. "Well then, that's the best news I've ever heard."