No Choice

25 May, 1368. St Ivan's Palace, Havietten

Celia listened as the chapel clock chimed to announce the fourth hour of the morning. She closed her tired, scratchy eyes. After what felt like an eternity, the clock eventually sounded the fifth hour.

She hadn't slept a wink all night from nerves. She'd lain as still as a corpse in the bed, not wanting to risk disturbing the sleeping man next to her.

Another long while passed. Celia silently slipped out of the bed and tiptoed out of the bedchamber, closing the door behind her. When she paused to listen, she could still hear the steady rumble of Tobin's snores.

For once, the noise reassured instead of annoyed her.

She reached under the largest couch in the presence chamber, where she'd hidden clothing and a pair of silk slippers the night before.

Celia quickly dressed and shoved her nightgown under the couch. After braiding her hair, and wrapping a dark cloak around herself, there was nothing left for her to do but wait for Sabine and hope that her lady would keep her word to help.

It's just another morning, she told herself over and over. This is no different to every other morning, when I sit in here and stare into the fireplace until Tobin eventually wakes up.

The chapel clock thudded out the sixth hour.

Then, silence.

Celia was tempted to call off the entire plan, convinced Sabine was never going to be brave enough to show up, when she heard a gentle knock on the door.

Celia leapt to her feet and had swung the door open before Sabine finished knocking. The two young women stared at each other in apprehension.

"Are you sure you really want to do this, my lady?" Sabine asked through pinched lips. Her eyes darted around the gloomy corridor.

"I have no choice." Celia replied as she pulled up her cloak hood to cover her hair. It was the truth.

With a resigned nod, Sabine started leading the way in silence.

- - -

Celia realised that despite having lived in St Ivan's Palace for almost a year, there were still a great many parts of it that were unfamiliar to her within its twisting, winding layout. As a princess, she had the right in theory to go almost anywhere she wished in the palace.

In reality however, she'd always felt too many prying, suspicious eyes on her to wander around much beyond a few wings.

It was a rambling fortress built over two centuries ago from the local grey stone. As the two young women walked through narrow stairwells and back corridors, Celia felt like the walls were threatening to close in on her.

Sabine eventually gestured for them to stop outside a gnarled wooden door. She knocked but there was no response at first.

Celia felt like she was going to vomit with nerves.

"Maybe there's no one there." Sabine said hopefully.

"Really? And where do you expect a bunch of old men to be this early in the morning? Out cavorting?" Celia snapped. She'd be damned if she came this far, only to walk away without having spoken to anyone at all. "Knock again, louder this time."

With a long suffering sigh, the lady-in-waiting raised her hand to knock again but before she could, the door swung open.

A messy haired, brown skinned urchin looked back at them. He was dressed in something similar to a page's livery, though his was dirty and speckled with what looked like scorch marks.

"We're here to see Master Noem." Sabine raised her chin. "It's an urgent matter."

The boy shrugged as if there was nothing unusual about two young noblewomen showing up unannounced.

Perhaps there wasn't. Celia briefly wondered how many other nobles snuck around and secretly looked beyond the knowledge endorsed by the church, to solve their problems.

For all the king and queen insisted theirs was a pious court, Celia knew that piety only went so far when you were desperate.

With a wave of his hand, the page gestured for them to follow him into the darkness behind him. As she did, Celia's nose was assaulted by the acrid scent of burning leaves.

She kept her head down but could see she was in a cavernous room with only a single window. No wonder the air was so hazy with smoke, she thought. Though the room was very large, it was crowded. There were tables crammed with documents, sacks of herbs and overflowing bookshelves everywhere. Half a dozen men stood around, grinding herbs or flipping though books.

Unlike in Islia, where the healers each had their own quarters, these men seemed to share the same chaotic space. To Celia's great relief, none of them even glanced up as the hooded women walked past them.

The page led them to a table towards the back of the room, where an old man was writing on parchment. As they drew closer, Celia saw the man was actually drawing what looked like a strange rune.

She was almost certain all runes were forbidden by the church.

What was she getting herself into?

"Master Noem. I have a lady here who wishes to speak with you." Sabine spoke quietly and then turned to her mistress. "Master Noem is the eldest of all the court healers. What he doesn't know is likely not worth knowing."

Celia shot her a grateful look for not mentioning her name, then pulled her hood down more firmly over her eyes.

Not that it mattered. The old man looked up at her from his rune, then bowed his head. "A pleasure, Your Grace. I'm flattered you seek me out. How may I be of service?"

"Wait! How do you know who I am?" Celia was aghast. She'd swear she'd never crossed paths with the man before, yet he could recognise her without even blinking?

The healer chuckled, sounding quite delighted. "Some people can tell you a great deal, without them having to say a word. I'm intrigued, what does a pretty maid in the full bloom of youth need from an old man like me?"