A River of Orange Read online

  After two days, Gotham had not only returned to his original state, but had aged rapidly and died a few days later. Horror had filled Devora, as her feet took to the dungeon stairs two at a time. If she could not find more of the blue miracle, she would succumb to the same fate.

  Relief had flooded her when she spotted a new crop of the youth-inducing herb growing in the same place as those she had previously picked, but in much more abundance. She became hilarious with joy—stripped off all her clothes like a mad woman and rolled around in the flowers.

  From that time on, the east side of the dungeon was locked, off limits to anyone but Devora. The potion had been religiously brewed every two days and drank, assuring her eternal youth. She smiled at her reflection again.

  "Aye, you are clever indeed,” Devora repeated softly.

  "And what makes you so clever, my queen?” came a deep voice.

  Titiana knew that voice well. She smiled when she spotted Shell the sentry standing in the door. Shell was handsome and strong. Titiana especially liked to watch when he removed all of his clothes for the queen's pleasure. The meaty staff between his thighs would grow and grow, until it stood erect. It made Devora giggle and purr like a cat. Titiana watched intrigued while Shell inserted the rigid rod inside Devora. First Shell would open Devora's legs wide and poke her there, then flip the queen onto to her belly and insert himself there. Titiana believed it must be a magic wand Shell had connected to his body. It certainly wove a spell on Devora.

  Devora spun around to find Shell standing in the archway. “You should have had Zailia announce you,” she grumbled.

  Shell smirked. “Only this morning you were spread upon the bed naked and moist to my touch."

  Devora was irked by his cool, aloof manner. “What pleasures I bestow upon your pathetic body gives you no cause to think your attitude toward me is casual,” she spat. “Never for a moment forget that I am your queen, and should be treated with due respect for the title."

  Shell stiffened as though she had struck him. “Am I not due for a bit of respect as well?” He moved closer. “Do I not give you pleasure?"

  "'Twill do you no good to challenge me, Shell."

  He gave her a curt nod. “Forgive me, Your Majesty."

  Devora turned back toward the mirror and deliberately arranged her full bosom to blossom further from her neckline. She knew Shell was watching, drooling, wanting to suck the rosy nipples. The mere thought of his warm lips encompassing the tender peaks made her wet. Her annoyance increased at how quickly he excited her.

  Devora frowned. “Why are you here?"

  Shell locked his hands behind his back and stood with legs astride. This stance always brought her down before him, her fingers ready, and mouth searching for what was hidden beneath his breeches. “Hobbs has news that will interest you."

  Devora was irritated at the thrilling current moving through her. The sentry's muscular legs spread wide drove her imagination wild. Annoyed with herself for feeling the way she did, Devora waved a hand over her head. “Who the hell is Hobbs?"

  "He is one of your gardeners, Your Majesty."

  Devora frowned. “And what sort of news could a grounds man have that would be of interest to me?"

  Shell arched a brow. “He stands just beyond your chamber door, why not invite him in and hear for yourself."

  "You have brought a commoner to the second floor?” Devora screeched. “Have you no sense, no respect?” She wrung her hands nervously. “How can he be trusted?” It was no secret that most of the kingdom hated her, wished her an ill fate. Because of this, Devora had to be cautious at every turn. “He could be in possession of a dagger, planning my demise as we speak."

  Shell chuckled lightly. “I doubt such is true, my queen."

  Devora's lips puckered with annoyance. “Has he been searched?"

  Shell nodded. “That he has, with and without his clothes.” He chuckled again. “The little toad squealed like a pig when Carson bent him over and searched him thoroughly with his fingers."

  Devora's full red lips curled into a sly smile. “It does my peace of mind good to know Carson takes his position seriously."

  Shell returned the grin. “And he takes such pleasure in what he does, as well."

  They both began to laugh.

  Shell's shoulders relaxed. “Should I show Hobbs in, my queen?"

  Devora sighed. “Aye, the quicker he tells his news, the sooner he will leave."

  Shell went to the door and opened it wide.

  In walked Hobbs, visibly embarrassed and shaking in his skin. His weather worn hands held tightly to the white sheet wrapped around his waist. Upon seeing Devora, he dropped to his knees.

  Behind him entered Carson, spear in hand. Politely he bowed.

  Devora crossed her arms in front of her. “You have not allowed him his clothes?"

  "Nay, Your Majesty,” Carson said. “Not until he leaves the castle.” He chuckled wickedly. “And maybe not even then."

  Devora sneered. “I like how you think, Carson."

  Carson bowed his head. “Thank you, my queen."

  Devora looked down at the pathetic little man. “What have you come to tell me?"

  Hobbs reluctantly rose from the floor. “Was makin’ me way home, me was, and took me a short cut by way of old Tobiah's yard."

  Devora glared at him. “Why would your journey home interest me, peasant?"

  Hobbs swallowed hard. “'Twas what me ears heard ye'd be interested in, me queen."

  Devora moved closer, purposely allowing the gardener a closer view of her heaving cleavage. “And what did you hear?"

  Hobbs stared at the scene before him.

  Shell kicked Hobbs in the arse. “Keep your eyes in your head before I have them plucked out."

  Devora felt immense satisfaction at Shell's jealousy. She stood very near to Hobbs, hoping Shell would become even more disturbed. “I am waiting."

  Hobbs quickly cast his gaze to the floor. “Me heard a young woman washed ashore a day or so ago, seems she came from a land called Ireland."

  Devora looked over at Shell. “Have you heard of this news ... ever heard of Ireland?"

  Shell frowned. “Nay, Your Majesty on both accounts."

  Devora looked back at the gardener. “What else did you hear?"

  Hobbs went on to relay word for word Tobiah's leprechaun legend, how it might pertain to the maiden's presence, and that the young castaway was staying with Wysteria.

  Devora felt a momentary panic as her mind jumped on the possibility that Wysteria's new guest could be more than a marooned traveler. She would put nothing passed her dear sister, especially if Wysteria could foil Devora's plans and dethrone her.

  "It that all you have come to say?” Devora snapped at the messenger.

  "Aye, me queen,” Hobbs said, falling again to his knees.

  Devora looked over at Carson. “Take him away, and for good measure, I believe it might be wise if you search him again."

  "Nay, please, Your Majesty,” Hobbs pleaded.

  Devora looked deep into Carson's round, black eyes. “We never can be too sure, now can we?"

  Carson smiled. “Aye, that we cannot, Your Majesty.” He grabbed Hobbs by the arm and dragged him out the door.

  Shell shut the heavy portal behind them. “'Twould be wise for me to find out all I can about Ireland and this maiden your sister houses."

  A wave of trepidation swept through Devora. “Do so immediately,” she snapped, making her way back to the mirror. “But discreetly."

  Shell bowed politely. “Aye my queen,” he said and left the room.

  Devora continued to admire her reflection, all the while her mind working on how she could obtain more information about the girl. Certainly if she tried to be hospitable, gain the young woman's confidence, Wysteria would warn her against Devora and thwart the attempt. But someone no one would expect of any ulterior motives would be of no suspicion.

  Devora tapped her forefinger lightly at her
temple. “Think, who would be appropriate for the job?” she whispered to herself. In an instant the perfect candidate popped into her mind. She rang the bell for her handmaiden, Zailia.

  * * * *

  Zailia had been washing the second corridor's stone floor when the bell of doom pealed loudly. Quickly she rose from her knees, dropped the rag into the bucket of murky water and made her way to the queen's chamber.

  Out of breath, she opened the door, and bowed before her evil employer. “Aye, Your Majesty."

  "Rise, shut the door, and sit in the chair by the window,” Devora commanded.

  Zailia obeyed, a wave of apprehension washing over her. She had never been allowed to sit upon any of the chairs in the room.

  Devora took a seat opposite Zailia and gazed casually out the large window. “I hear a young woman has been washed ashore this isle."

  Zailia swallowed hard, fear gripping her heart. “I know nothing of the maiden."

  "Nay, of course you do not, which is exactly why very soon you will,” Devora said, turning to look deep into Zailia's eyes.

  Zailia clasped her moist, chapped hands in her lap. “I have not the time for socializing, my queen. My duties here take precedence."

  Devora twirled a lock of hair that fell down one shoulder. “And who said you would not be doing your duty?"

  Zailia frowned. “I do not understand, Your Majesty."

  Devora sighed. “Nay, that pea you have for a brain probably understands very little.” She leaned forward in her seat. “So I will make crystal clear, my plans for you and this guest my sister harbors."

  Zailia felt her heart lurch up to her throat. “Plans?"

  Devora smiled. “Aye, Zailia ... the ones you will make with our newest dweller. And while you are befriending her, you will find out everything you can about her."

  Zailia's mouth went dry. “Why is she so important to you?"

  Devora's smile fell. “That is none of your business. All that concerns you is to gain her confidence, become her friend, draw information from her and bring it back to me."

  Knowing Devora's black heart, Zailia did not believe it would end there. “Then what, my queen? What happens after I do all what you have asked?"

  Devora's smile returned. “Then you poison her."

  Zailia gasped. “I cannot do such a thing.

  Devora's face twisted. “Oh, but you will, Zailia dear. If you want that old man of yours to remain alive, you will do exactly as I say on this matter.” She stood and walked over to an apothecary chest, opened a drawer and pulled from it a small vial. Slowly she caressed the tiny bottle. Devora spun around to face Zailia. “This is the poison you will use."

  Tears stung the back of Zailia's throat. “But she is just a young girl, Your Majesty. What possible harm can she bring down upon you?"

  Devora held up a hand. “Silence!” She made her way to Zailia and seized her by the arm, pulling her to her feet. “You will do as you are told, or your father dies."

  Tears streamed down Zailia's cheeks. “Please, I beg of you, Your Majesty, do not do this horrible thing to the maiden."

  Devora grabbed a fist full of Zailia's hair and yanked it hard.

  Zailia cried out as Devora dragged her to the door.

  Fear for Zailia gripped Titiana and she almost lost her balance on the window's ledge. Quickly, she repositioned herself. Pity swelled in her heart for the pretty and kind young handmaiden. It took great effort on Titiana's part to stifle the urge to fly from her perch,, into the witch's room, and bite Devora on the nose, which was most affective for inflicting pain.

  Devora threw open the portal. “You ... Sentry,” she called out to a guard standing watch at the top of the staircase.

  Quickly the young man left his post and came to his queen's aid. He bowed before Devora. “Wesley, at your service, Your Majesty."

  Devora threw Zailia at the young man's feet. “Well then, Wesley, take this peasant to Carson with my orders to strip her and give her ten lashes."

  Titiana gasped, fearful and humiliating images quickly building in her mind.

  Zailia began to shake as the young sentry lowered his gaze, a look of pity for the beautiful young servant filled his eyes.

  "You wish this done for certain, my queen?"

  Devora's lips thinned. “I would not have ordered it, Sentry, if I was not certain. And if you do not obey these orders, Carson can do the same to you.” She smirked. “And you know of Carson's fancy for men, his punishment would not end with a beating."

  Wesley bowed respectively and pulled Zailia to her feet. “As you wish, Your Majesty."

  Devora's eyes narrowed. “This will be your fate every day at this hour, for three days. On the fourth day your father will join you and you will watch him die."

  Titiana cringed at the thought.

  Zailia tried to jerk her arm free from the guard's hold. “Nay ... please!"

  "Then do you agree to what I have asked of you?” Devora spat.

  Tears fell in torrents down Zailia's flushed cheeks. “Aye, I agree."

  Titiana cried too, feeling for Zailia's predicament, but also quite relieved there would be no beating.

  Devora smiled. “Good.” She turned her attention toward the young guard. “Release her and return to your post."

  He bowed and left Zailia to face Devora alone.

  "Now go ... put on something clean, comb your hair, wash your face,” Devora demanded. She chuckled wickedly, dropping the vial into Zailia's apron pocket. “And make yourself a new friend."

  Titiana watched Zailia flee from the queen's chamber. Spreading her tiny wings, Titiana did the same.

  Chapter Six

  Meav bid the Elwins goodbye and followed Wysteria out of the cottage. She was thankful for the long walk ahead. She had eaten way too much ... not being able to resist all the delicious food offered her, and now her belly felt as though it would burst.

  Once down the path, Meav turned left ... the way she had come. But Wysteria's hand upon her arm stopped her.

  Wysteria smiled warmly. “We have another stop, lass, before we go back home."

  Home ... the word conjured up visions of the farm in Dublin and nights around the fire with her family, not Wysteria's tiny cottage on this strange island. Yet, that was the only home Meav had now. Silently she followed the elder woman through the glen and into the jungle.

  Wysteria glanced sideways at her young charge. “Not a word of curiosity as to our next stop?"

  "I trust you, Wysteria, and respect you enough to wait until you are ready to tell me,” Meav said.

  Wysteria's heart melted. She remembered such devotion from Meridith, and now the daughter was the same. “You honor me, child."

  Meav shrugged. “I have no reason to doubt you, dear healer. If ‘twasn't for you and your hospitality, me sorry flesh would still be hungry and dirty.” She frowned. “There is one thing I do wonder about, though."

  "Speak your mind, lass,” Wysteria encouraged.

  "How did I get to your cottage?"

  "Rule,” Wysteria said softly.

  Meav halted shocked. “Why did he not tell me?"

  Wysteria hesitated.

  "Why did he not tell me, Wysteria?” Meav repeated.

  "'Tis not like Rule to call attention to his good deeds,” Wysteria explained, taking Meav's arm and continuing their walk.

  Meav regarded Wysteria quizzically for a moment. “'Twas him then, that saved me from the panther?"

  Wysteria clamped her lips tight, guarding Rule's secret.

  Meav sighed. “Should I see him again, I will be sure to thank him for saving me life."

  "What is most important is that you are safe and no one will ever harm you again,” Wysteria promised.

  Meav frowned. “'Tis what Rule said as well."

  "Then you can believe him,” Wysteria said. “Rule is a man of his word."

  * * * *

  The waterfall was breathtaking. Meav stared in awe at the magical way the water casca
ded over the smoothened rocks, ending its journey into the pool of orange below.

  "'Tis magnificent,” Meav exclaimed. “The water is so bright."

  "Aye, ‘tis at that,” Wysteria responded with a lilt to her voice. “I remember the days as a young girl swimming naked in this sweet channel."

  Meav had come upon the strange colored water when she first arrived on the island ... but obviously that was from another end of the river, for she would have truly remembered the waterfall. “What makes it orange?"

  Wysteria sat down upon a large rock. “The blood of a hero, mixed with the yellow of the sun."

  Meav sat down at her feet, dropping Wysteria's satchel and looking up at the elderly woman like a little child eager to hear the tale. “Tell me, dear healer."

  Wysteria raised her face to the sky and closed her eyes. “'Tis said that Hugo Pierre Quinn, a mighty warrior-god, came upon this river centuries ago. He found a young maiden sitting where you are sitting now, crying and cradling her dying man in her arms."

  Meav gasped, bringing her hand to her throat. “Nay, how awful for her."

  Wysteria looked down at the girl. “I am pleased to see the compassion upon your face, child."

  "The young woman must have been crushed,” Meav whispered.

  Wysteria sighed. “Aye, for sure, and her sorrowed heart lay broken."

  Tears filled Meav's eyes. “I can understand why ... she loved him."

  "With all that was in her,” Wysteria added.

  Meav sighed. “Aye, with all that was in her,” she repeated softly. A lone tear slipped down her cheek. “Why was he dying?"

  Wysteria arched a craggy brow. “He tried to slay the hydra."

  "Ah me, what is a hydra?” Meav questioned, feeling slightly fearful of the answer.

  "A hydra is a dragon, and this hydra guarded the glass case that held the crystal crown of wisdom,” Wysteria explained. “He breathed fire and had deadly venom; just a look from his eyes could kill. His body was that of a snake, the claws of a lion, and the wings of an eagle."

  Meav swallowed hard. “And the young man saved his love from the monster?"