The Affiliate Read online

  Cyrene sat gracefully in the chair Prince Kael had vacated.

  “I’ve been reviewing your file to make a decision about your educational regimen. It seems you have excelled in nearly all your subjects, and you have received positive marks from your tutor. But where to put you?” She slapped her hands down on the table, spreading her fingers wide, and then she rose before positioning herself in front of her desk.

  After a couple of minutes of silence, the Queen said, “As you know, an Affiliate’s educational regimen is the most important aspect of your First Class life. You will become an expert in whatever is decided, and you will make a great contribution to Byern. As your Receiver, it is my job to find a proper placement for your career…somewhere you will flourish.” She gave a wry smile. “Lucky for you, my husband spoke to me about you this morning.”

  “He did?” Cyrene gasped out. Her mouth popped open, and her blue eyes grew wide. Why did the King speak on my behalf?

  “Indeed he did,” Queen Kaliana said. “You act surprised.”

  “I beg your pardon, Queen Kaliana, but it is not an act. I have no idea why King Edric would have spoken of me or about me.”

  “While I’m sure that is true,” the Queen said as if she believed no such thing, “he still spoke to me about his opinion regarding your Affiliate duties. He mentioned that you have quite an affinity for the weather, even suggesting heretical things such as predicting it.”

  Cyrene’s face blanched. Oh no!

  “You don’t deny it?”

  “No, Your Majesty,” Cyrene began carefully. “I did mention that to the King, but it was in jest.”

  “That would be a useful quality.”

  Only If I want to be burned for witchcraft or cast out for madness…

  The Queen stalked over to a gorgeous standing cabinet. The top half was lined with shelves and covered in glass to protect the priceless artifacts within. The bottom half was covered with solid wooden doors and round doorknobs protruding from each one.

  Queen Kaliana opened one door to reveal a stack of papers over a foot tall. She eased the loose papers out of the cabinet and heaved them across the room. She quivered under the weight of the documents.

  Cyrene jumped to her feet. “Do you need assistance, My Queen?”

  “Sit,” she barked.

  Cyrene nearly fell back into the chair. The Queen slammed the papers onto a blank space on her desk with a sigh of relief. The papers were black around some of the edges, and other pieces looked like scraps.

  Queen Kaliana stared into Cyrene’s blue eyes, searching.

  For what, Cyrene had no idea. She wished Rhea were here for strength or to help her determine what was about to happen.

  “I’ve taken my husband’s wishes into consideration,” she began.

  Cyrene felt like sinking into the seat.

  “Additionally, after looking at the various positions that have recently opened up, I have come to a decision.”

  The weight of the Oath of Acceptance Cyrene had taken only yesterday morning was already weighing heavily on her shoulders.

  “One of the most trusted and oldest living Affiliates among us, Affiliate Lorne sadly passed away. She had been working in her field for more than seventy years. Unfortunately, Lorne’s house was burned to the ground before we could retrieve her life’s work from her residence. This stack here”—Queen Kaliana placed her hand on the enormous pile of papers—“is one of four that we were able to recover before the fire consumed everything. You are to read through everything Affiliate Lorne left behind and write a detailed report on her discoveries…if any.”

  “What was her life work on?” Cyrene asked warily.

  Queen Kaliana smiled. “Foreign agriculture.”

  Cyrene’s heart sank. If she was stuck in agriculture her entire life, then she might never get to leave. She would never see the world. All her dreams of traveling were shattering before her eyes. This could not be happening. She was supposed to have an Ambassadorship.

  “My Queen, are you quite certain that agriculture is the best use of my abilities?” Cyrene asked, trying to sound confident. “Do you not think I would be better served in some other field?”

  The Queen smacked her hand back down on the stack, crumpling the paper on the top of the pile. Her face was set in a stern scowl, her mouth bunching up, and her eyes seething. “Do you dare contradict what I have decided?”

  “No. Of course not, Your Highness.”

  “I thought not.” She released the paper from her hand. “Your abilities will be best utilized in the field I have chosen for you, and you will receive no further training until you have completed the task I have set forth for you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, My Queen,” Cyrene said, meeting the Queen’s gaze. “I understand perfectly.”

  She understood that the Queen, for some reason, felt threatened by her. She understood that the Queen did not like her husband speaking on anyone’s behalf, and clearly, she thought this was some sort of punishment for him doing so. She understood perfectly this was a means to get her out of the way.

  But Cyrene wouldn’t be pushed aside so easily.

  She was meant to see the world, and she would find a way to do so, one way or another.

  Cyrene’s hands were bleeding again when she made it back to her rooms.

  The Queen had made her stagger there under the weight of the enormous stack of papers. She’d nearly tumbled headfirst into ten different people within the Queen’s common room alone—not to mention, the number of other people who had finally woken up and were strolling through the castle.

  Over the next couple of days, the castle was occupied with the death of High Order Zorian and the preparations for his funeral, which everyone in the castle was required to attend. Cyrene spent the time leading up to that attempting to glean anything of value from the wreckage of Affiliate Lorne’s life’s work and learning her way around the Nit Decus castle. At some point, she returned to her room to find servants had deposited the remaining three stacks of paperwork in her room, and she despaired over ever finishing.

  One day, on her way back to her room, Cyrene found Maelia waiting for her in the hallway. Cyrene had been so occupied with her studies that she had forgotten her promise to the girl, the only friend she had made in the castle.

  “Cyrene,” Maelia said in greeting. “I have been looking for you.”

  “Hello, Maelia. I haven’t seen you in days.”

  Maelia nodded. “I have been…held up. I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Cyrene walked beside Maelia the remaining way to their rooms. Cyrene opened her door and found that her things had finally arrived from home. Books lined the once empty bookshelf, jewelry dangled from an open box, and a multitude of clothes burst from her wardrobe.

  “I see you’ve been given your full orders.” Maelia eyed the hundreds of pieces of paper neatly arranged on the sitting room table. “What was decided?”

  “Foreign agricultural division.” The last thing Cyrene wanted to discuss was her dull research. She wandered over to the bookshelf and thumbed through the titles.

  “Oh.”

  “It’s as bad as it sounds.” Her finger landed on the book she had been looking for, and she extracted it from the shelf. She stared at the funny symbol that was like a tree missing branches on one side.

  “It will get better. The first week is the hardest.”

  Cyrene flipped open the mysterious volume and saw that Elea had added a note to the inside.

  ASK FOR BASILLE SELBY AT THE LAELISH.

  Interesting. Well, at least she had some sort of starting point.

  “So, what took you away?” Cyrene snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf. The journal with its strange words made her nervous all over again. She had a strange urge to hide it under the floorboard when Maelia left.

  She turned back toward Maelia and found her chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes watery.

  “Are you all right?”
/>   “Yes. Sorry. I just feel so torn”—she glanced at the closed door—“between the Queen and the Consort. I probably shouldn’t say anything, but I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

  “What happened?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? The Queen is my Receiver. I should want to do as she orders, but the Consort has procured me to work with medicinal herbs. I find myself…drawn to the Consort and to the tasks she requests of me. Have you ever felt such a way?” Maelia’s hazel eyes widened.

  “Yes, I know perfectly what you are describing. Have a seat, and I’ll ring for some tea.”

  A pang of jealousy hit Cyrene at the thought of Maelia working for the Consort, but it quickly passed. She must deserve it if she was getting the privilege.

  A few minutes later, a servant woman rushed into the room with a silver tray, a still hissing teapot, and a pair of cups with matching saucers. Cyrene thanked the woman and poured her friend a spot of tea out of the kettle.

  Maelia thanked her, and after letting the beverage cool, she drank warmly from the cup. Once she seemed comfortable again, she began to talk, “I was raised in a militaristic household. My parents were both in the Royal Guard. A Receiver is your commander. You follow the orders perfectly and without question. One order is no different than another.”

  Cyrene couldn’t imagine such a life—to never question, to never feel the freedom of your life since it was constantly shaped for you.

  “This world here is very different. Court is not as I expected. The Queen expects me to work as a Treasury assistant, as if I’ve had more than a few coppers to my name in my life.”

  “Maybe that’s why she has trusted you with it,” Cyrene offered.

  Maelia softly shook her head, the wisps of her nearly white-blonde hair brushing against her youthful round face. “I don’t presume to understand Queen Kaliana’s agenda. And if that was the proper course, then why do I find myself enjoying my medicinal training under the guidance of Consort Daufina more than I ever have in the Treasury?”

  “Well, I’ve wanted to travel the world my entire life, and now, I’m stuck with this.” Cyrene spread her hands for Maelia to see the stacks and stacks of papers she had to dig through. “I’m not sure we are always assigned to a program that suits us completely. I think we’re meant to adapt—just as you’re adapting. There is nothing wrong with that.”

  Maelia seemed to weigh Cyrene’s words as she drank more of the tea. She slightly chewed on her bottom lip in a way that made Cyrene think of Elea.

  “You don’t have to come to terms with it overnight,” Cyrene said. She knew that it would take herself a long time to get over being relegated to the agricultural division. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be okay with it. “How about we schedule a time to go see the city to take your mind off of it?”

  Maelia nodded. “I’d like that.”

  Everyone in the castle had been given two days off before the funeral for High Order Zorian. Cyrene would have preferred to keep working on her assignment, but she and Maelia had agreed they would go into the city.

  While waiting in her bedroom for Maelia before they were to leave, Cyrene removed the leather-bound book from its new hiding place under the floorboard in her bedroom. She felt uneasy about having it in her hands, but she hoped to get answers from the peddler Elea had said she had purchased it from.

  Why am I able to see the words when Elea hadn’t been able to? Maybe if she tried to read it, she would know what it said, and then she could go from there.

  Taking a seat on the sofa in her living quarters, she opened the book on her lap. She inhaled deeply and stared down at the pretty pages. Cyrene had never seen anything like it. Something demandingly tugged at the back of her mind, but for the life of her, she didn’t know what about the font was familiar. Her fears were creeping in all around her. Since Elea hadn’t been able to see the words, Cyrene believed that something was…wrong with her. What could it mean?

  Her eyes roamed the page, wondering what the secret language would unlock. Sighing, she pondered how much time she had before Maelia would show up. She probably still had twenty minutes. Cyrene shrugged and focused on trying to decipher the first sentence.

  A second later, Maelia rushed into the room, breaking Cyrene’s concentration. Cyrene snapped the book shut, not wanting to risk Maelia seeing it.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said with a huff. “Got caught up in the corridor. Are you ready?”

  Late?

  Huh. Cyrene had thought she had twenty minutes. Strange.

  Oh well.

  “Yes, let’s be off.” She hastily placed the book in her satchel and followed Maelia out the door.

  They weaved their way out of the Vines and back through the main corridors, angling toward the stable yard. As they got closer and closer to the entrance, they noticed that Affiliates clustered together. Cyrene recognized one of the girls as Jardana, but she did not know Jardana’s three friends. Maelia and Cyrene shared a confused glance and moved closer to the group to listen in.

  “That’s right. High Order Zorian’s death wasn’t an accident. It was murder!” Jardana exclaimed.

  “But who do they think did it?” another Affiliate asked.

  “The Queen wants everyone to know they are perfectly safe, and they will figure all this mess out, but I know they took in High Order Ahlvie for questioning. He was the one who found the body.”

  Ahlvie? No, that didn’t make sense. He had helped her when she came out of her warrior ceremony. Then again, he’d had blood splattered on him, and his clothes had been cut apart.

  She blanched at the thought.

  Cyrene pulled Maelia away from the other Affiliates.

  “What do you think about High Order Zorian’s murder?” Maelia asked.

  “I don’t know. I was with Ahlvie that night,” Cyrene admitted.

  “What? You were?”

  “Yes. He showed me how to get to my rooms. I never suspected—”

  “You have to tell someone, Cyrene!”

  Cyrene sighed. “Do you think so? I wasn’t involved.”

  “But what if he brings it up?”

  “Then, if I’m brought in to answer questions about it, I’ll answer honestly, of course. I hope it was all an accident,” Cyrene said as they reached the stable yard.

  “Me, too. The Royal Guard always said that death was an unfortunate necessity that should never be taken lightly. I pray the Creator carries Zorian’s soul peacefully from this life.” Her friend’s cheeks flushed.

  Cyrene nodded. “As She always does.”

  Still, she wondered what was happening to Ahlvie if he was being accused of murdering Zorian. A gut instinct told her that he hadn’t done it, and she always relied on that instinct. But what do I really know about Ahlvie anyway?

  The sun beat down on them as they took Cyrene’s horses out of the castle stable yard and into the city. Maelia borrowed her chestnut-brown horse, Astral, while Cyrene took her gray dapple, Ceffy. The pair trotted leisurely out of the castle gates and onto the cobble path that led into the inner city.

  Cyrene weaved them down the main path, passing First Class stone houses along the way. She pointed out some of the large stone homes, like her parents’, that housed the wealthiest citizens among them. The houses became smaller and more tightly packed together as they neared the second tier of the city. The crowds grew dense, pushing Maelia closer to Cyrene. Then, they entered the main road, and the path widened considerably.

  “This is Broad Street, our largest avenue to the Laelish Market,” Cyrene said.

  Guards strode by them. Their leather breastplates were ablaze with the Dremylon golden flames, a scripted D lying across their hearts, and steel blades with a matching emblem hung at their sides. Women and men alike called out to each other in passing, dragging their children behind them while keeping them from dipping their hands in candy booths. Giant signs announced inns and taverns.

  Cyrene guided their horses behind the well-
established Winespring Inn, a sturdy-looking stone building with a waterfall of wine displayed on the hanging sign out front. She tossed the stableman a few copper coins to take care of their horses.

  Once the boy had a hold of Astral’s and Ceffy’s reins, the girls left the stable and walked back to Broad Street. Their first destination was a simple two-story house off the main stretch. No decorative sign hung from the doorway. No welcoming host burst from the entrance upon their arrival.

  Cyrene walked up the small staircase to the main door of the building and knocked twice. Not more than a minute later, a woman appeared at the door and frowned when she saw Cyrene.

  “What are you doing here, girl?” Lady Cauthorn asked.

  “I’ve come for a commission, of course,” Cyrene said. “Lady Cauthorn, this is Affiliate Maelia. Maelia, this is my seamstress, Lady Cauthorn.”

  “How do you do?” Maelia said.

  “Yes. Yes. Fine. Come in then.”

  The girls followed Lady Cauthorn into a sitting room. An assistant hurried in with a pot of tea and some tarts from the kitchen.

  “Tell me about this commission.”

  “I’ve made a list,” Cyrene said.

  She retrieved a sheet of parchment from her bag and handed it to the seamstress, who read through the items listed.

  Cyrene wanted eight new gowns—one ball gown in the same design as her Presenting attire, three everyday silk dresses with embroidery, two dresses in a sturdy cotton wool, and two riding habits with divided skirts. She had told the King she would commission a new wardrobe, and she would see it would be done.

  “Fine,” Lady Cauthorn said after a moment. “I require half payment up front. I’ll have it all completed in four months.”

  “Can you not do it any faster?”

  “Eight new gowns, and four are in silks with full embroidery.” Lady Cauthorn ticked off on her fingers. “You’ll be lucky if it’s done in three.”

  Maelia’s mouth dropped open. “What do you need all of that for, Cyrene?”