Chantress Alchemy Read online

  “I am sorry, my lady. The King is anxious for your welfare, and we had orders not only to find you, but to capture anyone we found here who was behaving in a suspicious manner.” The red of his cheeks deepened. “I’m afraid we did not recognize you until you started singing.”

  Knollys’s embarrassed gaze made me flush too. The last time he and his men had seen me, I’d been at court, attired in silken robes fit for a queen, with my hair elegantly coiffed. Now I was wearing my oldest clothes, water-stained at the hem and darned where they’d snagged on driftwood—and my hair had sprung free from its coil, its black tangles whipping on the wind.

  No wonder they’d failed to recognize me.

  But really, what did it matter? I was here to work, not to be a figure of fashion. Given the choice between a new song-spell and new skirts, I’d pick the song-spell any day.

  “The ring, my lady.” Knollys offered the gold circle to me.

  Forgetting about my appearance, I held the ring up to the light, the better to see the rose etched in its amethyst stone. No doubt about it: this was the King’s ring. I showed it to Norrie, who was still looking askance at the scattered horses and the men dismounting to collect their swords and spears.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re here,” I said to Knollys.

  “I am here because the King wishes to see you,” Knollys said. “Pack your belongings as quickly as you can. We must leave within the hour.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE KING’S COMMAND

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “You intend to take us to London?”

  “To Greenwich Palace, rather,” Knollys said. “The King has held court there since Christmas.”

  I knew nothing about Greenwich Palace except that it was a few miles outside London, but if the Court was gathered there, then it was the last place I wanted to be. After Scargrave’s downfall last year, I had spent a few weeks at the King’s side, and I had been shocked by the naked ambition of his courtiers. Half of them seemed to hate me—and most of the others had been desperate for me to do magic for them. To make matters worse, my magic had been at its lowest ebb then. To be so powerless, and to have to hide it, had been the stuff of nightmares.

  Since then, I’d heard that there had been changes at Court, that some of the King’s old advisers had been cast off, and that new men had risen in their place. But still . . .

  I can’t face them. Not yet. Not now. Not until I’m certain I have the power to deal with them.

  “I regret that I must refuse,” I said to Knollys. “Please tell the King I appreciate his invitation, but I shall remain here.”

  Knollys’s stance changed, and I saw why he was regarded as a fearsome leader of men. “My lady Chantress, you misunderstand. This is not a request. It is a direct command from your King.” His flinty voice brooked no dissent. “I am to bring you back with me, and you will attend His Majesty at Greenwich.”

  So much for thinking I was safe with Knollys! I would have summoned up another mist then, if only I could have been sure of it. I was tired, though, and cold to my marrow, and I was not certain I could pull off such a song twice. And if I lost myself in the fog again, what then?

  Perhaps the wish showed in my face, however, for Knollys’s next words were more conciliatory. “My lady, the King does not act for idle reasons. He wishes you to come in part so that he may safeguard you. As I have said, these are dangerous times. Enemies are working against King Henry, and they may target you as well.”

  Norrie and I exchanged glances of surprise and alarm. I remembered the sea’s song of danger. Was this what it meant? Not Knollys and his men . . . but something even more daunting?

  “Who are these enemies?” I asked.

  When Knollys didn’t immediately answer, Norrie said, “Have there been more riots?”

  Riots? This was news to me. “Who’s rioting?”

  “Didn’t you hear what the King’s men said when they last delivered our supplies?” Norrie asked me. “Bread’s more than twice the price it was last year, and wheat’s in short supply everywhere. There’ve been riots in some places.”

  I vaguely remembered the delivery, but not the conversation. My mind had been on my magic the whole time they’d been talking. “Is that why you’re here?” I asked Knollys.

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” Knollys said. “The King himself will explain when he sees you.”

  Behind him the men were regrouping.

  “We must leave right away,” Knollys urged. “If we hurry, we can reach the King’s hunting lodge at Letheringham by nightfall. After that, I judge it will take us four days to reach Greenwich.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the gray curve of the sea beyond the bluff. Whatever Knollys said, this place felt safe to me. It was the world beyond—including the Court at Greenwich—that felt dangerous.

  But perhaps that was just an illusion.

  Certainly Norrie seemed to think it was. Close at my side, she murmured, “Lucy, I know you don’t want to go. But I really think we must. We’ll be safer with the King.”

  I bit my lip. How could I stay if it meant exposing Norrie to attack?

  And there was the King to consider too. It was through his grace and favor that I had been granted this refuge. When it came down to it, I could ill afford to displease him. And I genuinely wanted to help him if I could. Henry was only a couple of years older than I was, and in the brief time I’d known him, he’d struck me as determined and brave, with a keen sense of honor. Saddled with the task of setting the kingdom to rights, he was intent on doing his duty. If he was in danger, I ought to help him, both for his sake and the country’s.

  Next to that, how much did it matter that the very notion of Greenwich Palace filled me with dread?

  I turned to Knollys, the frozen wind thrashing at my cape. “Will I be able to return here?”

  “As soon as the danger is over,” Knollys assured me. “The King gives you his word.”

  That was something. And I supposed it was something, too, that I’d managed to sing up the sea mist under pressure and disarm the King’s men.

  You’re stronger than you think, Norrie had said. Perhaps I was more prepared to face the world of court intrigue than I’d feared.

  “My lady,” Knollys said. “We await your answer.”

  “Very well,” I said. “We will go with you to the King.”

  † † †

  Three-quarters of an hour to pack, that was all Knollys allowed us. “And less would be better.”

  “We’ll have to move fast,” Norrie huffed as we heaved ourselves up to the loft. “You’ll need your court clothes, of course—the ones you wore last year. I’m not sure they’ll fit any better than what you’ve got on now, but at least they’re not patched and stained like your work clothes are.” She opened the trunk at the foot of my bed. “Put on the blue wool, and I’ll pack the mulberry silk. Quickly now!”

  Shivering, I changed out of my water-stained skirts and dived into the sea-blue wool. The soft fabric warmed my skin, but even when I tightened my stays, the bodice strained to hold me. The skirts, too, were slightly too short, and the fabric pulled across my hips. It was only with difficulty that I managed to slide the precious letter from my mother into the secret pocket. I couldn’t leave that behind.

  Norrie paced a circle around me. “I suppose it will do for the trip,” she said doubtfully. “But thank goodness there will be seamstresses aplenty in Greenwich Palace. You can have a whole new wardrobe made.” The thought seemed to cheer her. “No cloud without a silver lining, is there? I’ve been wanting to do something about your clothes for a while. Maybe it’s just as well we’ve been called to Court. Nothing like a change to do a body good.”

  Surprised, I stopped twisting back my tangled hair. “But you were glad to leave Court behind. You said so last summer, when we came here.”

  “I did say that, yes,” Norrie admitted. “I think we both wanted a life more like the one we’d been us
ed to, back on the island.”

  I nodded. We would never see the island again—it was an enchanted place, lost to us now—but we’d lived there in peace and safety for seven years. At the time, I’d longed for a way to leave it, but now I often dreamed about its grassy bluffs and golden shores.

  “Trouble is, I forgot what a lonely life we had there,” Norrie said. “And this place is almost as bad.”

  I looked at her, dismayed. “You don’t like it here?”

  “I like having a house of my own, and a garden. But a garden’s not much use in winter, is it? And the cottage—well, it’s darker than I expected, and quieter, especially with you always out practicing your magic.” She gave me a crooked smile. “I suppose I got used to seeing people last year. It was nice having someone to talk to of an afternoon.”

  My heart smote me. “I’m sorry, Norrie. I didn’t know. I thought you were happy here.”

  “I was at first, child. It’s the winter that’s been hard. But never mind. Everything’s about to change now.”

  Norrie turned back to the packing. “Now, let me see . . . what else do we need to bring?” She dived into the trunk and came up with two stacks of linen shifts. A bundle of papers fell out of them. Face flaming, I snatched it from the floor.

  Norrie smiled. “Nat’s letters?”

  I couldn’t lie, though part of me wanted to. “Yes.”

  I should have burned them.

  Burning, however, had been more than I’d been ready for. That’s why I’d buried Nat’s letters in the trunk instead. Putting them out of sight had helped, but now that I held them in my hands again, the wrenching pain came roaring back.

  Nat and I had never had an easy relationship, but there was a spark between us that I’d never felt with anyone else. And last summer, once we’d won the battle against Scargrave, we’d become closer than ever. We’d laughed together, and spent lazy days in the sun together, and shared kisses that made my heart sing. But now . . .

  “Such a shame he couldn’t come to us for Christmas,” Norrie said, refolding the shirts. Nat was a favorite with her. “Still, I can’t blame him. It’s like that boy to put his country before himself. ‘The kingdom has to come first.’ Wasn’t that what he said in his letter?” Her lips quirked. “Well, the bit you read out to me, anyway.”

  I winced. I hadn’t had the heart to show the full letter to Norrie. It had been disappointment enough to her that he wasn’t coming, and I . . . well, I’d been too humiliated to tell her the truth.

  Even now, I could remember all too clearly the rainy November afternoon when I’d returned to the cottage, wet and weary, to find the letter waiting. Merely seeing Nat’s strong handwriting had filled me with joy—until I’d read what he’d had to say.

  Such a thin excuse for a letter, it had been. Stilted and halfhearted, with none of his usual affection. It had taken me only a minute to read the brief lines saying that he couldn’t come as expected, that the King needed him at Court. He’d finished with a formal phrase or two. And he’d signed the letter with his full name.

  Since then I’d not heard one word from him.

  I thrust the letters back into the trunk.

  “You don’t want to take them?” Norrie said.

  I stuffed my shifts into a bag. “There’s no need.”

  “I suppose not,” Norrie agreed. “Letters can’t hold a candle to seeing somebody in the flesh. And once we’re at Court, you’ll be seeing Nat all the time.”

  I kept quiet, but Norrie wouldn’t let the subject drop.

  “Like as not, he’ll be there to greet us. And I must admit it will be a comfort to have him at our side.” Her eyes crinkled with sudden merriment. “Indeed, if it’s anything like last summer, we’ll have a job prying him away from you.”

  My cheeks burned. “It won’t be like that.”

  The words shot out of me. I couldn’t call them back.

  Scenting trouble, Norrie stopped packing. “Won’t be like what?”

  Maybe it was time to tell her. After all, there would be no hiding the truth once we reached Court.

  “He hasn’t visited, Norrie. And he’s stopped writing. You must have noticed: I haven’t had a letter in three months.” It was an effort to keep my voice even. “I don’t think he wants to see me.”

  Norrie blinked. “Why, of course he does, child. He’s been busy, that’s all.”

  “Too busy to write?” I said.

  “It happens.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe he’s met someone else.” I tried to hide how the idea ate away at me. “That happens too.”

  “Someone else? Oh, child.” Norrie set down the slippers she was trying to cram into the bag. “Letters or no letters, Nat’s a young man who knows his own mind. He won’t have changed toward you, you mark my words.”

  She sounded so sure that she half convinced me—and goodness knows, I wanted to believe her. Yet how could I, after that awful letter in November, and the silence ever since?

  Boots thumped below.

  “What do you want done with your chickens?” a deep voice called out.

  “Oh, goodness.” Norrie hastened for the stairs. “I completely forgot. Maybe we can put them in baskets and bring them to Letheringham? I expect the cook there will be glad of the extra eggs. You finish up with the packing, Lucy, and I’ll go down and see to it.”

  Left to myself, I filled the bags and tied them shut. More boots tramped downstairs. Be quick, I told myself.

  When I went to close the trunk, however, I glimpsed Nat’s letters again and paused. For a moment, I was tempted to bring them after all.

  But no. Whatever Norrie might say, I wasn’t going to do that to myself. I flipped the lid down.

  A quarter hour later, we set off for Greenwich.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE RABBLE

  By the time we reached the hunting lodge, it was twilight, and I was hungry. But food had to wait. After hours of riding pillion behind one of the King’s men, Norrie’s back pained her so much that she could neither sit nor stand. Waving away her supper, she collapsed onto the pallets that had been laid out for us.

  I wished that I knew a song-spell for soothing pain, but that was not where my gifts lay; my magic was more elemental. Instead, I prevailed upon the lodge cooks to brew some willow bark tea, and I made Norrie drink it all.

  “And you ought to eat something too,” I said.

  “I’ve no appetite, child.” Her face contorted as she shifted on the bed.

  “Oh, Norrie.” I knelt by her side in distress. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing, child. It’s just that dratted pillion. Thanks be I shan’t have to ride it again on this trip.”

  I nodded. Knollys had already told us that from this point onward, Norrie and I would travel by carriage. I hadn’t been best pleased by the choice—carriages, in my experience, were a stuffy and bone-rattling way to travel—but Knollys had said that we would need to travel all day and most of the night, and that we would find it impossible to keep up with his hand-picked riders on horseback. Despite my protests, he’d insisted on the point, and now I was glad. Norrie could never have ridden all the way to Greenwich.

  “A sound night’s sleep, that’s what I need,” Norrie said, grimacing as I tucked the blankets around her. “I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

  “Let’s hope so.” I hated having to go to Greenwich at all, but seeing Norrie in such terrible pain made it harder.

  † † †

  That night, just as I was about to slip into bed, I heard the strange droning again. This time it was difficult to locate the source: perhaps the river nearby? It was so faint that I could make no sense of it at all, but I feared it still meant danger. I checked on Norrie, but she was sleeping peacefully. When I crept out to the hall, I saw only Rowan Knollys and his men standing guard.

  There was nothing more I could do.

  When I finally did fall asleep, however, I was restless. Toward morning I dreamed I was in the Tower of L
ondon, running through its maze of rooms in panic. I heard a scream behind me. Lady Helaine . . .

  I woke, my heart hammering at my ribs. Above me was the low-beamed ceiling of the hunting lodge.

  It was just a dream, I told myself. But then I heard the yelp again.

  It was Norrie.

  “I can’t move,” she groaned, still flat in bed. “I’m so sorry, child, but I can’t get up.”

  An hour later, after the application of salves and plasters and heat, she still had not managed to stand. The only medicine that helped was poppy syrup, and it merely took the edge off the pain while making her very sleepy. Any attempt to lift her made the pain come roaring back.

  “She’s in no condition to travel,” I told Knollys, who was watching from the door. “We’ll have to wait.”

  “We can’t wait,” Knollys said. “My orders are to bring you to Greenwich without delay. The King requires your presence immediately.”

  “But a carriage ride would be torture to her right now,” I said.

  “To her, perhaps, but not to you. And you’re the one the King needs to see.” He went over to Norrie and leaned down to her, speaking loudly and clearly. “Miss Northam, I need to take the Lady Chantress to Greenwich. When you’re better, there will be another carriage at your disposal, and you can follow her in easy stages, if you like. Unless, that is, she has already returned to you, which is what we all hope for.”

  I resented the way he was making all the decisions. But the suggestion that I might be back so soon was a welcome one. If that were the case, better I should go right away, and spare Norrie the rigors of the trip entirely.

  “Lucy?” Norrie searched me out with sleep-fogged eyes. “You can’t . . . go alone. I will . . .”

  I took her hand. “I’ll be fine, Norrie. It’s you I’m worried about. You must stay here and get well. I wish I could stay—”

  “No, no. Must go. King needs . . .” Her eyes were closing. Succumbing to the poppy syrup, she fell fast asleep.

  “Come,” Knollys said. “We can’t delay any longer.”

  I bent and kissed Norrie’s cheek, soft as worn chamois. “Will she be safe here?” I asked Knollys.