Of Ash & Linen
Chapter 1

Traitors. All of them. Every sail on every boat growing smaller in the distance had betrayed her, each a little triangle of white that sliced her, one at a time as it disappeared into the horizon. Even now, the specks of white were taking on a red tinge, tainted by her blood. Not her blood. Sunset. The day had worn itself out, the sun igniting sails with its dying light. Despite all of Ava’s silent pleas, her last day of freedom had come to an end.

She sat near the banks of the Corriere River, watching as the last boats of the day departed. They were heading south for trade with neighboring countries or for the open waters of the Meiri Sea. How Ava longed for the liberty, the possibilities that the open sea offered. Instead, she was here, in Cincia, held in captivity by her own sense of duty. She pulled her hood down and her cloak tighter to fend off the brisk winds as she watched in silence.

She had left the castle keep hours ago, brimming with a hope that spurred her on until she reached the docks of the river. She’d intended to buy passage aboard one of the ships departing immediately. But then she was overcome by her conscience, by her duty. She could not abandon her responsibility to her country. Though she might have been free, she would have earned that freedom by running away like a coward. She couldn’t live with that.

With a final sigh of regret, Ava stood from the smooth stone wall she had been sitting on and turned back to the hub of shops that lined the edge of the river. The receding light reflected orange against the sand-colored stone buildings that were arranged in a neat, slightly curving line. The stone, sable stone, was found in abundance here, and many of the city’s buildings were constructed from it.

Passing between two shops, she kept her head low so as not to draw attention as she headed back into the heart of the city. It was not a crime for women to walk unaccompanied in Minore, but it was frowned upon and not necessarily safe for the eighteen-year-old niece of the king.

Minore was a fairly progressive country compared to several of its neighbors; not that she had ever visited any of those neighboring countries to know firsthand. Everything she knew she had learned from her father, her palace appointed teachers, or the hundreds of books she had spent her life devouring in the city’s libraries.

Ava hurried around the corner of a merchant’s home and narrowly avoided the horses of an oncoming carriage.

“Woah!” the driver yelled from his perch as she stumbled back. “Get outta the road, ya’ daffy fool!”

He turned to glare at her as he rumbled past, and she ducked her head.

Her heartbeat sped, echoing the hoof beats of the horses as they clattered away. She paused a moment, breathing deeply to calm herself. Full night was almost upon them and she didn’t think he had seen her face clearly.

She quickened her pace until her ears detected the edge of music spilling from the center of Cincia. After a moment, she turned onto the broad, smoothly paved street that cut a clean line directly through the city. It took a fair bit of concentration to slow her steps in order to blend in with the leisure crowd of lords and ladies.

A lifetime of wandering the halls and grounds of the castle had resulted in Ava mastering several hidden paths within the palace and one escape route. A forgotten tunnel burrowed straight from the back of the king’s wine cellar, crossed underneath the castle wall, and emptied out into an alley behind the opera house.

The palace, naturally, rested on a hill to offer the high ground in battle should the city suffer an attack. Her father had taught her well the basics of good defense strategy in war.

Ava’s father was the brother of the king and the general of the king’s army. Having no son, he prided himself in the military education of his only daughter. Someone must, after all, carry on the legacy of his military expertise, though they both knew she would never use such training.

Minoran women were not permitted to join the military. They were not permitted to own land. They were not even permitted to choose their own husbands. Not in her case, anyway. Surely there were some caring fathers in Minore who allowed their daughters to decide for themselves who they would marry. She didn’t know of any such men.

Her stride was steady but slow as she kept near to the buildings at her left, trying not to venture too far out in the open. Just a few more yards until she reached the opera house and then the alley that led to her tunnel.

Since there was always a performance or rehearsal going on at the opera house, she found it easy to pass unnoticed as she came and went on her secret outings. Those forbidden trips had served as an escape from her rigid life ever since the day she’d finally built up the bravery to follow the tunnel to its end.

Her memory of that day caused her right hand to twitch. On her first journey through the tunnel six years ago, she had felt along the rough-hewn stone of the tunnel walls to keep from falling in the dark. She had tripped, nonetheless, and her right hand had flown to the low ceiling for balance, impaling her palm half a centimeter deep on a rusted steel point protruding from a hollow. It was the edge of one of the many gates that she had discovered immersed in deep grooves in the roof of the tunnel.

It wasn’t until years later when she was reading a book on Minoran’s architectural history that she’d discovered what the purpose of the gates were. They were engineered to drop, preventing enemies from accessing the castle during a siege.

She’d fabricated an unconvincing lie to explain the injury that day, resulting in her father monitoring her closely for weeks after that. It was agony waiting until she could sneak away to traverse the tunnel again and follow it to her escape. She was rewarded with a scar in the center of her right palm shaped like a four-pointed star, a brand to remind her of her silent rebellion.

Squeezing behind a carriage parked near the front corner of the opera house, Ava emerged in the alley that ran next to the palace wall. She breathed a sigh of relief. Soon she would be safely back inside.

The light from the street dimmed as she pressed deeper into the alley, the walls converging on her. At the back, Ava pushed aside a mass of vines and shouldered her way behind the clingy foliage. She then stepped over a few fallen stones, arriving inside the hidden mouth of the tunnel.

Originally, she’d kept a torch and flint stashed here to light her way. Then one day, she’d heard voices as she’d emerged from the tunnel and thought for sure someone in the alley had seen the glow of her torch. She’d doused it quickly in the dirt and retreated quickly back into the tunnel. Since then, she had memorized the loose stones and sharp edges of the tunnel’s rocks so she could traverse it safely without light. Still, it was disconcerting to be in complete darkness for so many minutes alone.

She made it through the tunnel and managed to slip into the halls of the palace without incident. Leaving her cloak in the mouth of the tunnel for later use, she traded it for a book she had left there earlier that day. With her fine dress exposed and a book in hand, which was usual for her, no one in the palace questioned her as she walked the halls. They all probably assumed she was coming from the castle library or had been reading in the gardens.

Rounding the final corner leading to her hallway, Ava glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one had noticed anything amiss.

“Stop.”

Startled, she skidded to a halt, then braced for the cringe that the high-pitched voice invoked in her. She knew without looking that the voice belonged to the last person she wanted to see, save for her father…maybe.

When she turned to her cousin, she felt the cringe rise in her again as she took in the flamboyant dress and ridiculous jewelry she wore. Pernice flaunted every bit of her station and wealth on her body.

“Where were you? I’ve been looking for you,” Pernice narrowed her eyes, which were roaming all over Ava, looking for any sign of misbehavior.

Holding up the book to block her cousin’s scrutiny, Ava simply relied, “Library.”

Then she pushed past Pernice, swearing that she wouldn’t fall prey to her venomous games, not today during her last hours of freedom.

Pernice huffed. “Don’t you want to know why I was looking for you?” The girl’s brittle voice trailed her down the hallway along with the clack of her fancy shoes. “Father sends his regards.”

This caught Ava’s attention and she reluctantly turned to her cousin.

“Why?” she conceded the question, immediately regretting the pleasure she saw bloom on her cousin’s face.

Sometimes, when Ava looked at Pernice, she caught a glimpse of Coralli in her features. In those moments Ava missed her friend dearly, but aside from looks Pernice was nothing like her kind-hearted older sister.

“Father won’t be attending your sendoff tomorrow. He has far too many important matters to attend. A king’s time is never to be wasted.” Pernice speared her with another glare. “He mentioned it at dinner tonight. Well, you would have known if you’d been there,”

Pernice waited, but Ava wouldn’t give her the reaction she knew her young cousin was looking for.

She merely blinked and said, “Of course. I wouldn’t have expected him there.”

The plummeting of her gut contrasted with the calm façade she worked to maintain. She was sacrificing her freedom, obediently falling in line with her uncle’s commands and allowing herself to be traded so that his country would reap the benefits. Yet, he couldn’t even show himself at her departure.

Ava pulled tight the threads of old wounds that threatened to reopen and whirled away from Pernice. She would not let her cousin see her bleed. She was still standing there, gripping the door handle long moments after Pernice’s malicious laughter had receded with her down the hall. Ava took a breath and ripped open her door.

She wasn’t a foot inside her parlor when the reality of her life slammed into her like an arrow to the chest. She wouldn’t ever have need of the cloak or the tunnel again, she realized.

She looked around at the swirl of activity in her chambers. Several maids were delicately folding and packing away all of her gowns and undergarments. Other maids were wrapping the personal effects she was allowed to bring with her in muslin and placing them in one of her many traveling chests.

They were packing away her life before her eyes. Tomorrow she would be leaving for Erdene. She briefly wondered how long her cloak would remain in the wine cellar tunnel before someone discovered it, if ever.

Standing in the middle of the room and directing all the chaos was Padovana. She turned and saw Ava leaning with her back against the door, book held limply in hand.

“Finally!” Padovana exclaimed as she shuffled a few servants out of the way and hurried towards her. “By the Mother, girl, where have you been?” She took the book from her hand and guided her by the elbow towards her dressing room.

“We’ve but a few hours to finish preparations, and you’re nowhere to be found. Well, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve spent half my life trying to replace the whereabouts of you, young lady,” Padovana glanced at her charge and stopped, an edge of concern in the tilt of her eyes. “Are you unwell? You’re pale as a snow owl.”

Ava had felt the blood drain from her face when she’d entered her room. The realization of her imminent departure made her sick.

The lady’s maid lightly placed a hand on Ava’s cheek, her gray eyes level with Ava’s.

Padovana had been her lady’s maid and primary caregiver since before she could remember. The woman had a steel quality about her, solid and unyielding, yet possessing a deep kindness and love for her charge. Padovana cared for her as if she were her own daughter. She would miss her the most of all, even more than she would miss her father.

“Ava,” Padovana said in a low voice as she held her gaze. “You must break out of this cage of fear you have locked yourself in. It will do me no good to worry about you surviving on your own once you depart my care tomorrow. Show me you can do this, because you must do this.”

She knew what Padovana was doing. Ava would do anything to spare the woman pain, and Padovana was using that knowledge now to urge her to gather herself together.

Clearing her throat, she forced back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “Yes, Ma’am. I merely became overwhelmed at the disastrous state my belongings are currently in.” She forced a smile to seal the lie. “I am fine now. Let’s continue.”

She knew Padovana recognized the lie for what it was. But it was a lie they must tell each other, because they had no other choice but to make it through. Neither had ever gotten much of a choice in life, so they must hold their heads high and march on. They could at least take a little comfort in the silent understanding that passed between them.

“Come now,” said Padovana as she resumed leading her charge to the dressing room. “We must finish the last touches to your gown and get you ready for bed. You have an early day tomorrow.”

Ava was pushed forward into a room with several full-length mirrors. She stepped onto the small, raised platform in the center of her dressing room. She’d stood here many times over the years as various seamstresses had fitted her for an unending number of dresses. She was never able to fully appreciate them, as she hated attending the dreadful events the gowns were crafted for.

She watched as the servants dressed her in the seamstress’s newest masterpiece. It was a silk dress that wrapped tightly around her midsection and billowed out into a full skirt starting at her waist. The white fabric was trimmed with intricate red flowers around the bodice and hem. The sleeves flowed freely down to her wrists. It was her wedding gown; done in a combination of the Erdene and Minoran styles to further symbolize the union of the two countries that was to be sealed by her marriage.

She looked at how the dress hugged her slender frame. Her deep brown hair had been braided and pinned atop her head that morning by Padovana. Her dark hair was balanced by equally dark eyes and offset by a smooth, light complexion.

Her gaze moved from her reflection, to Padovana’s, who was watching her with an uncharacteristically sympathetic expression. Her chestnut hair, streaked with gray, was also braided and pinned in a neat bun, but in a simpler style appropriate to a woman in a servant’s station.

Padovana met Ava’s eyes in the mirror and gave a reassuring smile. Ava thought she saw tears glistening there, but her lady’s maid turned away before she could be sure.

Ava looked away too, studying the flowers that adorned her bell sleeves. Dei lilies, a legendary flower that was intertwined with the foundations of Minore. There were some histories that said the flower had special properties, offering those who consumed it the strength of a god. The legends claim that the earliest Minorans used the gift of the dei lily to conquer the lands they desired and establish the country of Minore.

It was supposed that the flower was consumed in such great quantities that it was completely eradicated. Though, everyone knew that the flower had never really existed. It was just the type of grandiose tale that Minorans liked to use to flourish their origins. Nonetheless, the dei lily had become one of the many symbols of the power of Minore, and so it had earned a spot on her wedding dress.

***

Ava spent most of the night tossing and turning in her bed. Sleep eluded her, and when it did finally claim her, it was filled with images of a sinister land and a menacing king waiting to devour her.

She woke to the soft pats of Padovana’s hand on her arm.

“It’s time to wake, young one.” Padovana’s gray eyes were sad as she smiled down at her. “Your father will be here soon. You must dress and eat. I will not send you on your journey hungry.”

Ava’s attendants outfitted her in sturdy traveling clothes: a practical dress and comfortable boots. Her finery would be saved for when she arrived in Erdene and was met by her future husband’s traveling party. He would escort her to Erdene’s capital himself, and her Minoran traveling company would return here, without her. Then she would truly be alone.

Despite Padovana’s efforts, Ava could not bring herself to eat. She was too nervous. So nervous, in fact, that when a knock sounded on the door, she nearly leapt out of her own skin.

Padovana frowned at her, and she mumbled an apology.

A servant hurried to the door as Padovana moved to straighten Ava’s dress. Once satisfied, Padovana grasped Ava’s shoulders.

“You will be a magnificent bride.” Padovana held her gaze as tightly as she held her shoulders. “I believe in you and in the strength you possess.”

“Thank you,” Ava whispered. It was all the volume she could muster. Then she looked away, ashamed at her fear. “Padovana, I am afraid I will fail. What if I do not please the Shar? What if his household hates me, and I am truly alone forever? I am afraid— “

She stopped when Padovana shook her shoulders lightly, causing her to look up.

“You will not fail, child,” Padovana said. “You have prepared your whole life for the day you would marry a king. There is no one more fit to be the Sharral of Erdene.”

But Ava hadn’t prepared, not even a little. Inevitably, she had endured all the hosting lessons, studied the intricacies of regal societies, practiced composition on several instruments, but she had not prepared in her heart. Instead she had spent any unrestricted time dreaming of a life, any life, other than this.

“You will never be alone,” Padovana rested a hand on her cheek. “I will think of you always, and you will think of me. We will replace strength in the memories we have made together.” Padovana smiled, but Ava could tell it was forced.

She wrapped her arms around her lady’s maid intending to never let go. That delusion was quickly shattered when she heard the sound of her father’s voice in the hall.

“Go now,” Padovana said as she pulled away from her, and another servant stepped in view. She was led away too quickly from the person she loved most in the world.

“Avocetta,” her father’s voice was stern.

Her body tensed at the use of her proper name.

Disappointment clearly registered in his expression when her father saw the tears on her face as she walked out of her rooms for the last time. He regarded her silently for a moment, and she stared back, willing him to see the sorrow he had forced upon her. He moved aside when a line of servants exited her room carrying her trunks and belongings.

He did not make eye contact again as he bid her to follow him down the hallway. Ava dared not look back. She feared she would leave all her dignity behind if she saw Padovana again, because she would surely have to be pulled kicking and screaming from the palace upon her refusal to leave.